Friedrich von Schiller (1759–1805). Wilhelm Tell.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.
Act III
Scene IIIF
Friess.We keep our watch in vain. Zounds! not a soul
Will pass, and do obeisance to the cap.
But yesterday the place swarm’d like a fair;
Now the old green looks like a desert, quite,
Since yonder scarecrow hung upon the pole.
And wave their tattered caps in mockery at us.
All honest citizens would sooner make
A weary circuit over half the town,
Than bend their backs before our master’s cap.
As they were coming from the Council House.
I counted then upon a famous catch,
For no one thought of bowing to the cap,
But Rösselmann, the priest, was even with me:
Coming just then from some sick man, he takes
His stand before the pole,—lifts up the Host—
The Sacrist, too, must tinkle with his bell,—
When down they dropp’d on knee—myself and all—
In reverence to the Host, but not the cap.
Our post’s no better than the pillory.
It is a burning shame, a trooper should
Stand sentinel before an empty cap,
And every honest fellow must despise us.
To do obeisance to a cap, too! Faith,
I never heard an order so absurd!
You’ve duck’d, I’m sure, to many an empty sconce.[H
Delight in bringing honest folks to harm.
For my part, he that likes may pass the cap:—
I’ll shut my eyes and take no note of him.
The country would be none the worse for it.
Who sent for you? Go, send your husbands here,
If they have courage to defy the order.[T
They pass the hat without noticing it, and advance to the front of the stage.
The trees, if wounded with a hatchet, bleed?
He tells us there’s a charm upon the trees,
And if a man shall injure them, the hand
That struck the blow will grow from out the grave.
Dost see those glaciers yonder—those white horns—
That seem to melt away into the sky?
And send the avalanches down upon us.
Submerged beneath these avalanches’ weight,
Did not the forest there above the town
Stand like a bulwark to arrest their fall.
And keep descending where the rivers go,
We reach a wide and level country, where
Our mountain torrents brawl and foam no more,
And fair large rivers glide serenely on.
All quarters of the heaven may there be scann’d
Without impediment. The corn grows there
In broad and lovely fields, and all the land
Is like a garden fair to look upon.
Away to this delightful land, instead
Of toiling here, and struggling as we do?
But they who till it never may enjoy
The fruits of what they sow.
As you do, on the land their fathers left them?
I’d rather dwell beneath the avalanches.
Behind one’s back, than evil-minded men![They are about to pass on.
This way, you men!
Good people, help! They’re dragging him to prison![R&
An honest man, and worthy citizen.
For God’s sake, Tell, what is the matter here?[M
Refusing flatly to acknowledge it.
Take my security, and let him go.
We only do our duty. Hence with him.
Him dragged away before our very eyes?
Our countrymen will back us to a man.
Think you, had I a mind to use my strength,
These pikes of theirs should daunt me?
Try from our midst to force him, if you dare.
Fürst and Stauff. Peace, peace, friends!
Why throng the people thus? Who calls for help?[General silence.
Who was it? I will know.[F
And who art thou?
And why hast thou this man in custody?[Gives his falcon to an attendant.
And station’d sentinel beside the cap;
This man I apprehended in the act
Of passing it without obeisance due,
So as you ordered, I arrested him,
Whereon to rescue him the people tried.
And me, who act as his viceregent here,
That you refuse obeisance to the cap,
I hung aloft to test your loyalty?
I read in this a disaffected spirit.
From inadvertence,—not from disrespect.
Were I discreet, I were not William Tell.
Forgive me now—I’ll not offend again.
From every rival bear the palm away.
He’ll shoot an apple for you off the tree.
Bring down the apple from the tree, thou shalt
Approve thy skill before me. Take thy bow—
Thou hast it there at hand—make ready, then,
To shoot an apple from the stripling’s head!
But take this counsel,—look well to thine aim,
See, that thou hit’st the apple at the first,
For, shouldst thou miss, thy head shall pay the forfeit.[All give signs of horror.
What! from the head of mine own child!—No, no!
It cannot be, kind sir, you meant not that—
God, in His grace, forbid! You could not ask
A father seriously to do that thing!
I do desire—command it so.
Level my crossbow at the darling head
Of mine own child? No—rather let me die!
You have no children, sir—you do not know
The tender throbbings of a father’s heart.
I had been told thou wert a visionary,—
A wanderer from the paths of common men.
Thou lov’st the marvellous. So have I now
Cull’d out for thee a task of special daring.
Another man might pause and hesitate;—
Thou dashest at it, heart and soul, at once.
See, how they tremble, and how pale they look,
So little used are they to hear thee jest.
Here is the apple.
Room there, I say! And let him take his distance—
Just eighty paces,—as the custom is,—
Not an inch more or less! It was his boast,
That at a hundred he could hit his man.
Now, archer, to your task, and look you miss not!
And beg the governor to spare your life.
To trifle with a father’s anguish thus.
Although this wretched man had forfeited
Both life and limb for such a slight offence,
Already has he suffer’d tenfold death.
Send him away uninjured to his home;
He’ll know thee well in future; and this hour
He and his children’s children will remember.
Thy life is forfeited; I might dispatch thee,
And see, I graciously repose thy fate
Upon the skill of thine own practised hand.
No cause has he to say his doom is harsh,
Who’s made the master of his destiny.
Thou boastest thine unerring aim. ’Tis well!
Now is the fitting time to show thy skill;
The mark is worthy and the prize is great.
To hit the bull’s eye in the target;—that
Can many another do as well as thou;
But he, methinks, is master of his craft,
Who can at all times on his skill rely,
Nor lets his heart disturb or eye or hand.
But oh, let justice yield to mercy here.
Take half my property, nay, take it all,
But spare a father this unnatural doom!
Say, where am I to stand? I do not fear;
My father strikes the bird upon the wing,
And will not miss now when ’twould harm his boy!
To whom you must account for all your deeds.
No, I will not be bound! I will be still.
Still as a lamb—nor even draw my breath!
But if you bind me, I can not be still.
Then I shall writhe and struggle with my bonds.
An arrow from my father’s hand? Not I!
I’ll wait it firmly, nor so much as wink!
Quick, father, show them what thy bow can do.
He doubts thy skill—he thinks to ruin us.
Shoot then and hit, though but to spite the tyrant![He goes to the lime tree, and an apple is placed on his head.
Before our very eyes? Where is our oath?
And see the wood of lances round us! See!
God pardon those who counsell’d the delay!
To carry deadly tools is dangerous,
And on the archer oft his shaft recoils.
This right, these haughty peasant churls assume,
Trenches upon their master’s privileges:
None should be armed, but those who bear command.
It pleases you to carry bow and bolt;—
Well,—be it so. I will prescribe the mark.
You shake—your hand’s unsteady—your knees tremble.
Summon your troopers—let them strike me down!
Thy talent’s universal! Nothing daunts thee!
The rudder thou canst handle like the bow!
No storms affright thee, when a life’s at stake.
Now, saviour, help thyself,—thou savest all![T
You will not. It was surely but a test.
You’ve gained your object. Rigour push’d too far
Is sure to miss its aim, however good,
As snaps the bow that’s all too straitly bent.
Ay, and I dare! I reverence my King;
But acts like these must make his name abhorr’d.
He sanctions not this cruelty. I dare
Avouch the fact. And you outstep your powers
In handling thus my harmless countrymen.
To all the oppressions I was doomed to see.
I’ve closed mine eyes to shut them from my view,
Bade my rebellious, swelling heart be still,
And pent its struggles down within my breast.
But to be silent longer, were to be
A traitor to my King and country both.
Oh, Heavens! you but exasperate his rage!
Broke all the ties of nature, that I might
Attach myself to you. I madly thought
That I should best advance the general weal
By adding sinews to the Emperor’s power.
The scales have fallen from mine eyes—I see
The fearful precipice on which I stand.
You’ve led my youthful judgment far astray,—
Deceived my honest heart. With best intent,
I had well-nigh achiev’d my country’s ruin.
As you by birth, and I can cope with you
In every virtue that beseems a knight.
And if you stood not here in that King’s name,
Which I respect e’en where ’tis most abused,
I’d throw my gauntlet down, and you should give
An answer to my gage in knightly sort.
Ay, beckon to your troopers! Here I stand;
But not like these[Pointing to the people.
—unarmed. I have a sword,
And he that stirs one step—
Pray you, compose yourself. The boy’s alive.
You would not harm your boy.[T
It will be talked of to the end of time.
Long as these mountains stand upon their base.[Hands the apple to G
It was a master shot, I must allow.
The man to tempt his God by such a feat!
And now may go in quiet to your home.
A second arrow in thy belt—nay, nay!
I saw it well. Thy purpose with it? Speak!
There was some other motive, well I know.
Frankly and cheerfully confess the truth;—
Whate’er it be, I promise thee thy life.
Wherefore the second arrow?
Since you have promised not to take my life,
I will, without reserve, declare the truth.[He draws the arrow from his belt, and fixes his eyes sternly upon the governor.
If that my hand had struck my darling child,
This second arrow I had aimed at you,
And, be assured, I should not then have miss’d.
I gave my knightly word, and I will keep it.
Yet, as I know the malice of thy thoughts,
I’ll have thee carried hence, and safely penn’d,
Where neither sun nor moon shall reach thine eyes.
Thus from thy arrows I shall be secure.
Seize on him, guards, and bind him![They bind him.
How can you treat in such a way a man
On whom God’s hand has plainly been reveal’d?
Remove him to my ship; I’ll follow straight,
At Küssnacht I will see him safely lodged.
So violate our dearest chartered rights.
He never has. And only by obedience
May you that favour hope to win from him.
You are all rebels ’gainst the Emp’ror’s power,—
And bear a desperate and rebellious spirit.
I know you all—I see you through and through.
Him do I single from amongst you now,
But in his guilt you all participate.
If you are wise, be silent and obey![Exit, followed by B
Destruction on myself and all my house.
With you we all are fettered and enchain’d.