The Works of Frederick Schiller Part 242

Let me go.

I know each forest track and mountain pa.s.s; Friends too I'll find, be sure, on every hand, To give me willing shelter from the foe.

STAUFFACHER.

Nay, let him go; no traitors harbor there: For tyranny is so abhorred in Unterwald No minions can be found to work her will.

In the low valleys, too, the Alzeller Will gain confederates and rouse the country.

MELCHTHAL.

But how shall we communicate, and not Awaken the suspicion of the tyrants?

STAUFFACHER.

Might we not meet at Brunnen or at Treib, Hard by the spot where merchant-vessels land?

FURST.

We must not go so openly to work.

Hear my opinion. On the lake's left bank, As we sail hence to Brunnen, right against The Mytenstein, deep-hidden in the wood A meadow lies, by shepherds called the Rootli, Because the wood has been uprooted there.

'Tis where our Canton boundaries verge on yours;--

[To MELCHTHAL.

Your boat will carry you across from Schwytz.

[To STAUFFACHER.

Thither by lonely by-paths let us wend At midnight and deliberate o'er our plans.

Let each bring with him there ten trusty men, All one at heart with us; and then we may Consult together for the general weal, And, with G.o.d's guidance, fix our onward course.

STAUFFACHER.

So let it be. And now your true right hand!

Yours, too, young man! and as we now three men Among ourselves thus knit our hands together In all sincerity and truth, e'en so Shall we three Cantons, too, together stand In victory and defeat, in life and death.

FURST and MELCHTHAL.

In life and death.

[They hold their hands clasped together for some moments in silence.

MELCHTHAL.

Alas, my old blind father!

Thou canst no more behold the day of freedom; But thou shalt hear it. When from Alp to Alp The beacon-fires throw up their flaming signs, And the proud castles of the tyrants fall, Into thy cottage shall the Switzer burst, Bear the glad tidings to thine ear, and o'er Thy darkened way shall Freedom's radiance pour.

ACT II.

SCENE I.

The Mansion of the BARON OF ATTINGHAUSEN. A Gothic hall, decorated with escutcheons and helmets. The BARON, a gray-headed man, eighty-five years old, tall, and of a commanding mien, clad in a furred pelisse, and leaning on a staff tipped with chamois horn. KUONI and six hinds standing round him, with rakes and scythes. ULRICH OF RUDENZ enters in the costume of a knight.

RUDENZ.

Uncle, I'm here! Your will?

ATTINGHAUSEN.

First let me share, After the ancient custom of our house, The morning-cup with these my faithful servants!

[He drinks from a cup, which is then pa.s.sed round.

Time was I stood myself in field and wood, With mine own eyes directing all their toil, Even as my banner led them in the fight, Now I am only fit to play the steward; And, if the genial sun come not to me, I can no longer seek it on the mountains.

Thus slowly, in an ever-narrowing sphere, I move on to the narrowest and the last, Where all life's pulses cease. I now am but The shadow of my former self, and that Is fading fast--'twill soon be but a name.

KUONI (offering RUDENZ the cup).

A pledge, young master!

[RUDENZ hesitates to take the cup.

Nay, sir, drink it off!

One cup, one heart! You know our proverb, sir!

ATTINGHAUSEN.

Go, children, and at eve, when work is done, We'll meet and talk the country's business over.

[Exeunt Servants.

Belted and plumed, and all thy bravery on!

Thou art for Altdorf--for the castle, boy?

RUDENZ.

Yes, uncle. Longer may I not delay----

ATTINGHAUSEN (sitting down).

Why in such haste? Say, are thy youthful hours Doled in such n.i.g.g.ard measure that thou must Be chary of then to thy aged uncle?

RUDENZ.

I see, my presence is not needed here, I am but as a stranger in this house.

ATTINGHAUSEN (gazes fixedly at him for a considerable time).

Alas, thou art indeed! Alas, that home To thee has grown so strange! Oh, Uly! Uly!

I scarce do know thee now, thus decked in silks, The peac.o.c.k's feather [9] flaunting in thy cap, And purple mantle round thy shoulders flung; Thou lookest upon the peasant with disdain, And takest with a blush his honest greeting.

RUDENZ.

All honor due to him I gladly pay, But must deny the right he would usurp.

ATTINGHAUSEN.

The sore displeasure of the king is resting Upon the land, and every true man's heart Is full of sadness for the grievous wrongs We suffer from our tyrants. Thou alone Art all unmoved amid the general grief.

Abandoning thy friends, thou takest thy stand Beside thy country's foes, and, as in scorn Of our distress, pursuest giddy joys, Courting the smiles of princes, all the while Thy country bleeds beneath their cruel scourge.

RUDENZ.

The land is sore oppressed; I know it, uncle.

But why? Who plunged it into this distress?

A word, one little easy word, might buy Instant deliverance from such dire oppression, And win the good-will of the emperor.

Woe unto those who seal the people's eyes, And make them adverse to their country's good; The men who, for their own vile, selfish ends, Are seeking to prevent the Forest States From swearing fealty to Austria's house, As all the countries round about have done.

It fits their humor well, to take their seats Amid the n.o.bles on the Herrenbank; [10]