Friedrich von Schiller (1759–1805). Wilhelm Tell.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.
Act V
Scene IR
Ruodi.See there! The beacons on the mountain heights!
Upon our native soil the tyrant’s keep?
Are we the last to strike for liberty?
Up! Tear it to the ground!
As shall resound afar, from peak to peak;
Rousing the echoes of each glen and hill,
To rally swiftly all the mountain men![Exit S
What has been done in Unterwald and Schwytz.
Let’s wait till we receive intelligence!
And on us freedom’s glorious day has dawn’d!
That blaze on every mountain-top around?
Destroy the scaffold! Burst the arches! Down,
Down with the walls, let not a stone remain!
How best to hurl it down.
In ashes, and the Rossberg’s in our hands?
Are all the Cantons from our tyrants freed?
Now, at this very moment, while we speak,
There’s not one tyrant left in Switzerland!
With manly valour mastered Sarnen’s keep.
The Rossberg I had storm’d the night before.
But hear, what chanced. Scarce had we driven the foe
Forth from the keep, and given it to the flames,
That now rose crackling upwards to the skies,
When from the blaze rush’d Diethelm, Gessler’s page,
Exclaiming, “Lady Bertha will be burnt!”
By Gessler’s orders secretly immured.
Up sprang Rudenz in frenzy. For even now
The beams and massive posts were crashing down,
And through the stifling smoke the piteous shrieks
Of the unhappy lady.
Had he been but our baron, and no more,
We should have been most chary of our lives;
But he was our confederate, and Bertha
Honour’d the people. So, without a thought,
We risk’d the worst, and rush’d into the flames.
Bore her between us from the blazing pile.
With crashing timbers toppling all around.
And when she had revived, the danger past,
And raised her eyes to look upon the sun,
The baron fell upon my breast; and then
A silent vow between us two was sworn,
A vow that, welded in yon furnace heat,
Will last through ev’ry shock of time and fate.
’Twas not my fault he bore his sight away;
He who had robb’d my father of his eyes!
He fled—I followed—overtook him soon,
And dragg’d him to my father’s feet. The sword
Already quiver’d o’er the caitiff’s head,
When from the pity of the blind old man,
He wrung the life which, craven-like, he begged.
He swore U
He’ll keep his oath, for he has felt our arm.
Our spotless victory!
We’re free! we’re free!
Remember it when all their heads are grey.[Girls bring in the cap upon a pole. The whole stage is filled with people.
Let it be burnt!
’Twas once the instrument of despots—now
’Twill of our freedom be a lasting sign.[Peasants, men, women, and children, some standing, others sitting upon the beams of the shattered scaffold, all picturesquely grouped, in a large semicircle.
We stand upon the wreck of tyranny;
And gloriously the work has been fulfilled,
Which we at Rootli pledged ourselves to do.
Courage and concord firm, we need them both;
For, be assured, the king will make all speed,
To avenge his Viceroy’s death, and reinstate,
By force of arms, the tyrant we’ve expelled.
The foe’s expelled, that press’d us from within.
The foe without we are prepared to meet!
These with our bodies we will block, we will!
And all his armies shall not make us quail.[Enter R
What tidings?
King Albert fell. A most trustworthy man,
John Müller, from Schaffhausen, brought the news.
It was his nephew, his own brother’s son,
Duke John of Austria, who struck the blow.
Despite his urgent importunities;
’Twas said, he meant to keep it for himself,
And with a mitre to appease the duke.
However this may be, the duke gave ear
To the ill counsel of his friends in arms:
And with the noble lords, Von Eschenbach,
Von Tegerfeld, Von Wart and Palm, resolved,
Since his demands for justice were despised,
With his own hands to take revenge at least.
Upon his way to join the court at Rheinfeld,—
With him a train of high-born gentlemen,
And the young Princes John and Leopold;
And when they’d reach’d the ferry of the Reuss,
The assassins forced their way into the boat,
To separate the Emperor from his suite.
His highness landed, and was riding on
Across a fresh plough’d field—where once, they say,
A mighty city stood in Pagan times—
With Hapsburg’s ancient turrets full in sight,
That was the cradle of his princely race.
When Duke John plunged a dagger in his throat,
Palm ran him thro’ the body with his lance,
And Eschenbach, to end him, clove his skull;
So down he sank, all weltering in his blood,
On his own soil, by his own kinsmen slain.
Those on the opposite bank beheld the deed,
But, parted by the stream, could only raise
An unavailing cry of loud lament.
A poor old woman, sitting by the way,
Raised him, and on her breast he bled to death.
Who sought insatiably to grasp it all.
The passes are blockaded everywhere,
And sentinels on ev’ry frontier set;
E’en ancient Zurich barricades her gates,
That have stood open for these thirty years,
Dreading the murd’rers and th’ avengers more.
For cruel Agnes comes, the Hungarian Queen,
By all her sex’s tenderness untouch’d,
Arm’d with the thunders of the ban, to wreak
Dire vengeance for her parent’s royal blood,
On the whole race of those that murder’d him,—
Their servants, children, children’s children,—yea,
Upon the stones that built their castle walls.
Deep has she sworn a vow to immolate
Whole generations on her father’s tomb,
And bathe in blood as in the dew of May.
Took flight, each following a different route,
And parted ne’er to see each other more.
Duke John must still be wand’ring in the mountains.
Revenge bears never fruit. Itself, it is
The dreadful food it feeds on; its delight
Is murder—its satiety despair.
But we shall pluck with unpolluted hands
The teeming fruits of their most bloody deed.
For we are ransomed from our heaviest fear;
The direst foe of liberty has fallen,
And, ’tis reported, that the crown will pass
From Hapsburg’s house into another line;
The Empire is determined to assert
Its old prerogative of choice, I hear.
Already chosen by the general voice.
Now we may hope for justice, and with cause.
He will ’gainst Austria’s vengeance be our shield.[The peasantry embrace. Enter S
Of Uri, Schwytz, and Unterwald, the Queen
Elizabeth sends grace and all good wishes.”
In which the bloody exit of her lord
Has plunged the queen, still in her mind she bears
The ancient faith and love of Switzerland.”
Her people will in due abhorrence hold
The perpetrators of this damned deed.
On the three Cantons, therefore, she relies,
That they in nowise lend the murderers aid;
But rather, that they loyally assist,
To give them up to the avenger’s hand,
Remembering the love and grace which they
Of old received from Rudolph’s royal house.”[Symptoms of dissatisfaction among the peasantry.
But what have we to boast of from the son?
Did he confirm the charter of our freedom,
As all preceding emperors had done?
Did he judge righteous judgment, or afford
Shelter, or stay, to innocence oppress’d?
Nay, did he e’en give audience to the men
We sent to lay our grievances before him?
Not one of all these things did the king do,
And had we not ourselves achieved our rights
By our own stalwart hands, the wrongs we bore
Had never touch’d him. Gratitude to him!
Within these vales he sowed no seeds of that;
He stood upon an eminence—he might
Have been a very father to his people,
But all his aim and pleasure was to raise
Himself and his own house: and now may those
Whom he has aggrandized, lament for him.
Recall to mind the wrongs that we endured.
Far be’t from us! Yet, that we should avenge
The sovereign’s death, who never did us good,
And hunt down those who ne’er molested us,
Becomes us not, nor is our duty. Love
Must be a tribute free, and unconstrain’d;
From all enforced duties death absolves,
And unto him we owe no further debt.
Accusing Heaven in sorrow’s wild despair;
Here see a people, from its anguish freed,
To that same Heav’n send up its thankful praise.
Who would reap tears, must sow the seeds of love.[Exit the Imperial courier.
Alone be absent from our festival?
He did the most—endured the worst of all.
Come—to his dwelling let us all repair,
And bid the Saviour of our country hail![Exeunt omnes.