Wilhelm Tell Part 21

Whatever the event, stand by the people.

It is thy post by birth.

[Hunting horns are heard in the distance.

But bark! The chase!

Farewell,--'tis needful we should part--away!

Fight for thy land; thou lightest for thy love.

One foe fills all our souls with dread; the blow That makes one free emanc.i.p.ates us all.

[Exeunt severally.

SCENE III.

A meadow near Altdorf. Trees in the foreground. At the back of the stage a cap upon a pole. The prospect is bounded by the Bannberg, which is surmounted by a snow-capped mountain.

FRIESSHARDT and LEUTHOLD on guard.

FRIESSHARDT.

We keep our watch in vain. There's not a soul Will pa.s.s and do obeisance to the cap.

But yesterday the place swarmed like a fair; Now the whole green looks like a very desert, Since yonder scarecrow hung upon the pole.

LEUTHHOLD.

Only the vilest rabble show themselves, And wave their tattered caps in mockery at us.

All honest citizens would sooner make A tedious circuit over half the town Than bend their backs before our master's cap.

FRIESSHARDT.

They were obliged to pa.s.s this way at noon, 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 Rosselmann, the priest, was even with me: Coming just then from some sick penitent, He stands before the pole--raises the Host-- The Sacrist, too, must tinkle with his bell-- When down they dropped on knee--myself and all In reverence to the Host, but not the cap.

LEUTHOLD.

Hark ye, companion, I've a shrewd suspicion, 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!

FRIESSHARDT.

Why not, an't please thee, to an empty cap.

Thou'st ducked, I'm sure, to many an empty sconce.

[HILDEGARD, MECHTHILD, and ELSBETH enter with their children and station themselves around the pole.

LEUTHOLD.

And thou art an officious sneaking knave, That's fond of bringing honest folks to trouble.

For my part, he that likes may pa.s.s the cap I'll shut my eyes and take no note of him.

MECHTHILD.

There hangs the viceroy! Your obeisance, children!

ELSBETH.

I would to G.o.d he'd go, and leave his cap!

The country would be none the worse for it.

FRIESSHARDT (driving them away).

Out of the way! Confounded pack of gossips!

Who sent for you? Go, send your husbands here, If they have courage to defy the order.

[TELL enters with his crossbow, leading his son WALTER by the hand. They pa.s.s the hat without noticing it, and advance to the front of the stage.

WALTER (pointing to the Bannberg).

Father, is't true, that on the mountain there, The trees, if wounded with a hatchet, bleed?

TELL.

Who says so, boy?

WALTER.

The master herdsman, father!

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.

TELL.

There is a charm about them, that's the truth.

Dost see those glaciers yonder, those white horns, That seem to melt away into the sky?

WALTER.

They are the peaks that thunder so at night, And send the avalanches down upon us.

TELL.

They are; and Altdorf long ago had been Submerged beneath these avalanches' weight, Did not the forest there above the town Stand like a bulwark to arrest their fall.

WALTER (after musing a little).

And are there countries with no mountains, father?

TELL.

Yes, if we travel downwards from our heights, And keep descending in the rivers' courses, 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 scanned Without impediment. The corn grows there In broad and lovely fields, and all the land Is fair as any garden to the view.

WALTER.

But, father, tell me, wherefore haste we not Away to this delightful land, instead Of toiling here, and struggling as we do?

TELL.

The land is fair and bountiful as Heaven; But they who till it never may enjoy The fruits of what they sow.

WALTER.

Live they not free, As you do, on the land their fathers left them?

TELL.

The fields are all the bishop's or the king's.

WALTER.