Chapter XV: Act V: Scene I (1)

_A common near Altdorf. In the background to the right the Keep of Uri, with the scaffold still standing, as in the Third Scene of the first Act. To the left, the view opens upon numerous mountains, on all of which signal fires are burning. Day is breaking, and distant bells are heard ringing in several directions._

RUODI, KUONI, WERNI, MASTER MASON, _and many other country people, also women and children_.

RUODI.

See there! The beacons on the mountain heights!

MASON.

Hark how the bells above the forest toll!

RUODI.

The enemy's routed.

MASON.

And the forts are storm'd.

RUODI.

And we of Uri, do we still endure Upon our native soil the tyrant's keep? Are we the last to strike for liberty?

MASON.

Shall the yoke stand, that was to curb our necks? Up! Tear it to the ground!

ALL.

Down, down with it!

RUODI.

Where is the Stier of Uri?

URI.

Here. What would ye?

RUODI.

Up to your tower, and wind us such a blast As shall resound afar, from peak to peak; Rousing the echoes of each glen and hill, To rally swiftly all the mountain men!

[_Exit_ STIER OF URI--_Enter_ WALTER FÜRST.]

FÜRST.

Stay, stay, my friends! As yet we have not learn'd What has been done in Unterwald and Schwytz. Let's wait till we receive intelligence!

RUODI.

Wait, wait for what? The accursed tyrant's dead. And on us freedom's glorious day has dawn'd!

MASON.

How! Are these flaming signals not enough, That blaze on every mountain top around?

RUODI.

Come all, fall to--come, men and women, all! Destroy the scaffold! Burst the arches! Down, Down with the walls, let not a stone remain!

MASON.

Come, comrades, come! We built it, and we know How best to hurl it down.

ALL.

Come! Down with it!

[_They fall upon the building on every side_.]

FÜRST.

The floodgate's burst. They're not to be restrained.

[_Enter_ MELCHTHAL _and_ BAUMGARTEN.]

MELCH.

What! Stands the fortress still, when Sarnen lies In ashes, and the Rossberg's in our hands?

FÜRST.

You, Melchthal, here? D'ye bring us liberty? Are all the Cantons from our tyrants freed?

MELCH.

We've swept them from the soil. Rejoice, my friend, Now, at this very moment, while we speak, There's not one tyrant left in Switzerland!

FÜRST.

How did you get the forts into your power?

MELCH.

Rudenz it was who by a bold assault With manly valor 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!"

FÜRST.

Good heavens!

[_The beams of the scaffold are heard falling_.]

MELCH.

'Twas she herself. Here had she been 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.

FÜRST.

Is she saved?

MELCH.

'Twas not a time to hesitate or pause! 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 Honor'd the people. So, without a thought, We risk'd the worst, and rush'd into the flames.

FÜRST.

But is she saved?

MELCH.

She is. Rudenz and I 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.

FÜRST.

Where is the Landenberg?

MELCHTHAL.

Across the Brünig. '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 URPHEDE,[59] never to return He'll keep his oath, for he has felt our arm.

FÜRST.

Oh, well for you, you have not stain'd with blood Our spotless victory!

CHILDREN (_running across the stage with fragments of_ _wood_).

We're free! we're free!

FÜRST.

Oh! what a joyous scene! These children will Remember it when all their heads are gray.

[_Girls bring in the cap upon a pole. The whole stage is filled with people_.]

RUODI.

Here is the cap, to which we were to bow!

BAUM.

What shall we do with it? Do you decide!

FÜRST.

Heavens! 'Twas beneath this cap my grandson stood!

SEVERAL VOICES.

Destroy the emblem of the tyrant's power! Let it be burnt!

FÜRST.

No. Rather be preserved; '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_.]

MELCH.

Thus now, my friends, with light and merry hearts, We stand upon the wreck of tyranny; And gloriously the work has been fulfilled Which we at Rootli pledged ourselves to do.

FÜRST.

No, not fulfilled. The work is but begun: 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 expell'd.

MELCH.

Why let him come, with all his armaments! The foe's expelled that press'd us from within; The foe without we are prepared to meet?

RUODI.

The passes to our Cantons are but few; These with our bodies we will block, we will!

BAUM.

Knit are we by a league will ne'er be rent, And all his armies shall not make us quail.

[_Enter_ RÖSSELMANN _and_ STAUFFACHER.]

RÖSSELMANN (_speaking as he enters_).

These are the awful judgments of the Lord!

PEASANT.

What is the matter?

RÖSSELMANN.

In what times we live!

FÜRST.

Say on, what is't? Ha, Werner, is it you? What tidings?

PEASANT.

What's the matter?

RÖSSELMANN.

Hear and wonder!

STAUFF.

We are released from one great cause of dread.

RÖSSEL.

The Emperor is murdered.

FÜRST.

Gracious Heaven!

[PEASANTS _rise up and throng round_ STAUFFACHER.]

ALL.

Murder'd!--the Emp'ror? What! The Emp'ror! Hear!

MELCH.

Impossible! How came you by the news?

STAUFF.

'Tis true! Near Bruck, by the assassin's hand, King Albert fell. A most trustworthy man, John Müller, from Schaffhausen, brought the news.

FÜRST.

Who dared commit so horrible a deed?

STAUFF.

The doer makes the deed more dreadful still; It was his nephew, his own brother's son, Duke John of Austria, who struck the blow.

MELCH.

What drove him to so dire a parricide?

STAUFF.

The Emp'ror kept his patrimony back, 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.

FÜRST.

But say--the dreadful deed, how was it done?

STAUFF.

The king was riding down from Stein to Baden. 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 Habsburg'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.

MELCH.

Thus has he dug his own untimely grave, Who sought insatiably to grasp at all.

STAUFF.

The country round is fill'd with dire alarm, 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.

MELCH.

Is't known which way the murderers have fled?

STAUFF.

No sooner had they done the deed, than they 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.

FÜRST.

And thus their crime has borne no fruit for them. Revenge bears never fruit. Itself, it is The dreadful food it feeds on; its delight Is murder--its satiety despair.

STAUFF.

The assassins reap no profit by their crime; 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 Habsburg's house into another line; The Empire is determined to assert Its old prerogative of choice, I hear.

FÜRST _and several others_.

Is any named?

STAUFFACHER.

The Count of Luxembourg's Already chosen by the general voice.

FÜRST.

'Tis well we stood so staunchly by the Empire! Now we may hope for justice, and with cause.

STAUFF.

The Emperor will need some valiant friends. He will 'gainst Austria's vengeance be our shield.

[_The peasantry embrace. Enter_ SACRISTAN _with Imperial messenger_.]

SACRIST.

Here are the worthy chiefs of Switzerland!

RÖSSELMANN _and several others_.

Sacrist, what news?

SACRISTAN.

A courier brings this letter.

ALL (_to_ WALTER FÜRST).

Open and read it.

FÜRST (_reading_).

"To the worthy men Of Uri, Schwytz, and Unterwald, the Queen Elizabeth sends grace and all good wishes!"

MANY VOICES.

What wants the queen with us? Her reign is done.

FÜRST (_reads_).

"In the great grief and doleful widowhood, 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."

MELCH.

She ne'er did that in her prosperity.

RÖSSEL.

Hush, let us hear!

FÜRST (_reads_).

"And she is well assured, Her people will in due abhorrence hold The perpetrators of this damnèd 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_.]

MANY VOICES.

The love and grace!

STAUFF.

Grace from the father we, indeed, received, But what have we to boast of from the song 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;

FÜRST.

We will not triumph in his fall, nor now 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.

MELCH.

And if the queen laments within her bower, 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_.]

STAUFFACHER (_to the people_).

But where is Tell? Shall he, our freedom's founder, 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 Savior of our country hail!

[_Exeunt omnes_.]

SCENE II

_Interior of_ TELL's _cottage. A fire burning on the hearth. The open door shows the scene outside._

HEDWIG, WALTER, _and_ WILLIAM

HEDWIG.

My own dear boys! your father comes today; He lives, is free, and we, and all are free; The country owes its liberty to him!

WALTER. And I, too, mother, bore my part in it! I must be named with him. My father's shaft Ran my life close, but yet I never flinch'd.

HEDWIG (_embracing him_).

Yes, yes, thou art restored to me again! Twice have I seen thee given to my sad eyes, Twice suffered all a mother's pangs for thee! But this is past--I have you both, boys, both! And your dear father will be back today.

[_A monk appears at the door_.]

WILLIAM.

See, mother, yonder stands a holy friar; He comes for alms, no doubt.

HEDWIG.

Go lead him in, That we may give him cheer, and make him feel That he has come into the house of joy.

[_Exit and returns immediately with a cup_.]

WILLIAM (_to the monk_).

Come in, good man. Mother will give you food!

WALTER.

Come in and rest, then go refresh'd away!

MONK (_glancing round in terror, with unquiet looks_).

Where am I? In what country? Tell me.

WALTER.

How! Are you bewildered, that you know not where? You are at Bürglen, in the land of Uri, Just at the entrance of the Shechenthal.

MONK. (_to_ HEDWIG).

Are you alone? Your husband, is he here?

HEDWIG.

I am expecting him. But what ails you, man? There's something in your looks, that omens ill! Whoe'er you be, you are in want--take that.

[_Offers him the cup_.]

MONK.

Howe'er my sinking heart may yearn for food, Nought will I taste till you have promised first--

HEDWIG.

Touch not my garments, come not near me, monk! You must stand farther back, if I'm to hear you.

MONK.

Oh, by this hearth's bright hospitable blaze, By your dear children's heads, which I embrace--

[_Grasps the boys_.]

HEDWIG.

Stand back, I say! What is your purpose, man? Back from my boys! You are no monk,--no, no, Beneath the robe you wear peace should abide, But peace abides not in such looks as yours.

MONK.

I am the wretchedest of living men.

HEDWIG.

The heart is never deaf to wretchedness; But your look freezes up my inmost soul.

WALTER (_springs up_).

Mother, here's father!

HEDWIG.

Oh, my God!

[_Is about to follow, trembles and stops_.]

WILLIAM (_running after his brother_).

My father!

WALTER (_without_).

Here, here once more!

WILLIAM (_without_).

My father, my dear father!

TELL (_without_).

Yes, here once more! Where is your mother, boys?

[_They enter_.]

WALTER.

There at the door she stands, and can no further, She trembles so with terror and with joy.

TELL.

Oh Hedwidg, Hedwig, mother of my children! God has been kind and helpful in our woes. No tyrant's hand shall e'er divide us more.

HEDWIG (_falling on his neck_).

Oh, Tell, what anguish have I borne for thee!

[_Monk becomes attentive_.]

TELL.

Forget it now, and live for joy alone! I'm here again with you! This is my cot! I stand again upon mine own hearth stone!

WILLIAM.

But, father, where's your cross-bow? Not with you?

TELL.

Thou shalt not ever see it more, my boy. Within a holy shrine it has been placed, And in the chase shall ne'er be used again.

HEDWIG.
Oh, Tell! Tell!

[_Steps back, dropping his hand_.]

TELL.
What alarms thee, dearest wife?

HEDWIG. How--how dost thou return to me? This hand-- Dare I take hold of it? This hand--Oh God!

TELL (_with firmness and animation_).

Has shielded you and set my country free; Freely I raise it in the face of Heaven.

[MONK _gives a sudden start--he looks at him_.]

Who is this friar here?

HEDWIG.

Ah, I forgot him;
Speak thou with him; I shudder at his presence.

MONK (_stepping nearer_).

Are you the Tell who slew the governor?

TELL.

Yes, I am he. I hide the fact from no man.

MONK.

And you are Tell! Ah! it is God's own hand, That hath conducted me beneath your roof.

TELL (_examining him closely_).

You are no monk. Who are you?

MONK.

You have slain The governor, who did you wrong. I, too, Have slain a foe, who robb'd me of my rights. He was no less your enemy than mine. I've rid the land of him.

TELL (_drawing back_).

You are--oh, horror! In--children, children--in, without a word, Go, my dear wife! Go! Go! Unhappy man, You should be--

HEDWIG.

Heav'ns, who is it?

TELL.

Do not ask. Away! away! the children must not hear it. Out of the house--away! You must not rest 'Neath the same roof with this unhappy man!

HEDWIG.

Alas! What is it? Come.

[_Exit with the children_.]

TELL (_to the_ MONK).

You are the Duke Of Austria--I know it. You have slain The Emperor, your uncle, and liege lord.

JOHN.

He robb'd me of my patrimony.

TELL.

How! Slain him--your king, your uncle! And the earth Still bears you! And the sun still shines on you!

JOHN.

Tell, hear me, ere you--

TELL.

Reeking with the blood Of him that was your Emperor, your kinsman, Dare you set foot within my spotless house, Dare to a honest man to show your face, And claim the rites of hospitality?

JOHN.

I hoped to find compassion at your hands. You took, like me, revenge upon your foe!

TELL.

Unhappy man! Dare you confound the crime Of blood-imbued ambition with the act Forced on a father in mere self-defence? Have you to shield your children's darling heads, To guard your fireside's sanctuary--ward off The last, the direst doom from all you loved? To Heaven I raise my unpolluted hands, To curse your act and you! I have avenged That holy nature which you have profaned. I have no part with you. You murdered, I Have shielded all that was most dear to me.

JOHN.

You cast me off to comfortless despair!

TELL.

I shrink with horror while I talk with you. Hence, on the dread career you have begun, Cease to pollute the home of innocence!

[JOHN _turns to depart._]

JOHN.

I cannot and I will not live this life!

TELL.

And yet my soul bleeds for you. Gracious Heaven, So young, of such a noble line, the grandson Of Rudolph, once my lord and emperor, An outcast--murderer--standing at my door, The poor man's door--a suppliant, in despair!

[_Covers his face_.]

JOHN.

If you have power to weep, oh let my fate Move your compassion--it is horrible! I am--say, rather was--a prince. I might Have been most happy, had I only curb'd The impatience of my passionate desires: But envy gnaw'd my heart--I saw the youth Of mine own cousin Leopold endow'd With honor, and enrich'd with broad domains, The while myself, of equal age with him, In abject slavish nonage was kept back.

TELL.

Unhappy man, your uncle knew you well, When from you land and subjects he withheld! You, by your mad and desperate act have set A fearful seal upon his wise resolve. Where are the bloody partners of your crime?

JOHN.

Where'er the avenging furies may have borne them; I have not seen them since the luckless deed.

TELL.

Know you the Empire's ban is out--that you Are interdicted to your friends, and given An outlaw'd victim to your enemies!

JOHN.

Therefore I shun all public thoroughfares, And venture not to knock at any door-- I turn my footsteps to the wilds, and through The mountains roam, a terror to myself. From mine own self I shrink with horror back, If in a brook I see my ill-starr'd form. If you have pity or a human heart--

[_Falls down before him_.]

TELL.

Stand up, stand up! I say.

JOHN.

Not till you give
Your hand in promise of assistance to me.

TELL.

Can I assist you? Can a sinful man? Yet get ye up--how black soe'er your crime-- You are a man. I, too, am one. From Tell Shall no one part uncomforted. I will Do all that lies within my power.

DUKE JOHN (_springs up and grasps him ardently by the hand_).

Oh, Tell,
You save me from the terrors of despair.

TELL.

Let go my hand! You must away. You cannot Remain here undiscover'd, and, discover'd, You cannot count on succor. Which way, then, Would you be going? Where do you hope to find A place of rest?

DUKE JOHN.

Alas! I know not where.

TELL.

Hear, then, what Heaven unto my heart suggests. You must to Italy--to Saint Peter's City-- There cast yourself at the Pope's feet--confess Your guilt to him, and ease your laden soul!

JOHN.

Will he not to the avengers yield me up?

TELL.

Whate'er he does, accept it as from God.

JOHN.

But how am I to reach that unknown land? I have no knowledge of the way, and dare not Attach myself to other travelers.

TELL.

I will describe the road, so mark me well! You must ascend, keeping along the Reuss, Which from the mountains dashes wildly down.

DUKE JOHN (_in alarm_).

What! See the Reuss? The witness of my deed!

TELL.

The road you take lies through the river's gorge, And many a cross proclaims where travelers Have been by avalanches done to death.

JOHN.

I have no fear for nature's terrors, so I can appease the torments of my soul.

TELL.

At every cross, kneel down and expiate Your crime with burning penitential tears-- And if you 'scape the perils of the pass, And are not whelm'd beneath the drifted snows, That from the frozen peaks come sweeping down, You'll reach the bridge that's drench'd with drizzling spray. Then if it give not way beneath your guilt, When you have left it safely in your rear, Before you frowns the gloomy Gate of Rocks, Where never sun did shine. Proceed through this, And you will reach a bright and gladsome vale. Yet must you hurry on with hasty steps, You must not linger in the haunts of peace.

JOHN.

O Rudolph, Rudolph, royal grandsire! thus Thy grandson first sets foot within thy realms!

TELL.

Ascending still, you gain the Gotthardt's heights, Where are the tarns, the everlasting tarns, That from the streams of Heaven itself are fed, There to the German soil you bid farewell; And thence, with swift descent, another stream Leads you to Italy, your promised land.

[_Ranz des Vaches sounded on Alp-horns is heard without_.]

But I hear voices! Hence!

HEDWIG (_hurrying in_).

Where art thou, Tell? My father comes, and in exulting bands All the confederates approach.

DUKE JOHN (_covering himself_).

Woe's me!
I dare not tarry 'mong these happy men!

TELL.

Go, dearest wife, and give this man to eat. Spare not your bounty; for his road is long, And one where shelter will be hard to find. Quick--they approach!

HEDWIG.

Who is he?

TELL.

Do not ask! And when he quits you, turn your eyes away, So that they do not see which way he goes.

[DUKE JOHN _advances hastily toward_ TELL, _but he beckons him aside and goes out. When both have left the stage, the scene changes_.]

SCENE III

_The whole valley before_ TELL's _house, the heights which inclose it occupied by peasants, grouped into tableaux. Some are seen crossing a lofty bridge, which crosses the Shechen_. WALTER FÜRST _with the two boys_, WERNER _and_ STAUFFACHER, _come forward. Others throng after them. When_ TELL _appears, all receive him with loud cheers._

ALL.

Long live brave Tell, our shield, our Savior!

[_While those in front are crowding round_ TELL, _and embracing him_, RUDENZ _and_ BERTHA _appear. The former salutes the peasantry, the latter embraces_ HEDWIG. _The music front the mountains continues to play. When it has stopped_, BERTHA _steps into the centre of the crowd_.]

BERTHA.

Peasants! Confederates! Into your league Receive me, who was happily the first That found deliverance in the land of freedom. To your brave hands I now intrust my rights. Will you protect me as your citizen?

PEASANTS.

Ay, that we will, with life and goods!

BERTHA. 'Tis well!

And now to him (_turning to_ RUDENZ) I frankly give my hand. A free Swiss maiden to a free Swiss man!

RUDENZ.

And from this moment all my serfs are free!

[_Music, and the curtain falls_.]

* * * * *

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 36: Permission The Macmillan Co., New York, and G. Bell & Sons, Ltd., London.]

[Footnote 37: The German is, _Thalvogt_, Ruler of the Valley--the name given figuratively to a dense gray mist which the south wind sweeps into the valleys from the mountain tops. It is well known as the precursor of stormy weather.]

[Footnote 38: A steep rock, standing on the north of Rütli, and nearly opposite to Brumen.]

[Footnote 39: In German, _Wolfenschiessen_--a young man of noble family, and a native of Unterwalden, who attached himself to the House of Austria, and was appointed _Burvogt_, or Seneschal, of the Castle of Rossberg. He was killed by Baumgarten in the manner, and for the cause, mentioned in the text.]

[Footnote 40: Literally, The _Föhn_ is loose! "When," says Müller, in his History of Switzerland, "the wind called the Föhn is high, the navigation of the lake becomes extremely dangerous. Such is its vehemence that the laws of the country require that the fires shall be extinguished in the houses while it lasts, and the night watches are doubled. The inhabitants lay heavy stones upon the roofs of their houses, to prevent their being blown away."]

[Footnote 41: Bürglen, the birthplace and residence of Tell. A chapel, erected in 1522, remains on the spot formerly occupied by his house.]

[Footnote 42: Berenger von Landenberg, a man of noble family in Thurgau, and Governor of Unterwald, infamous for his cruelties to the Swiss, and particularly to the venerable Henry of the Halden. He was slain at the battle of Morgarten, in 1315.]

[Footnote 43: A cell built in the 9th century, by Meinrad, Count of Hohenzollern, the founder of the Convent of Einsiedeln, subsequently alluded to in the text.]

[Footnote 44: The League, or Bond, of the Three Cantons was of very ancient origin. They met and renewed it from time to time, especially when their liberties were threatened with danger. A remarkable instance of this occurred in the end of the 13th century, when Albert, of Austria, became Emperor, and when, possibly, for the first time, the Bond was reduced to writing. As it is important to the understanding of many passages of the play, a translation is subjoined of the oldest known document relating to it. The original, which is in Latin and German, is dated in August, 1291, and is under the seals of the whole of the men of Schwytz, the commonalty of the vale of Uri and the whole of the men of the upper and lower vales of Stanz.

THE BOND.

Be it known to every one, that the men of the Dale of Uri, the Community of Schwytz, as also the men of the mountains of Unterwald, in consideration of the evil times, have full confidently bound themselves, and sworn to help each other with all their power and might, property and people, against all who shall do violence to them, or any of them. That is our Ancient Bond.

Whoever hath a Seignior, let him obey according to the conditions of his service.

We are agreed to receive into these dales no Judge, who is not a countryman and indweller, or who hath bought his place.

Every controversy amongst the sworn confederates shall be determined by some of the sagest of their number, and if any one shall challenge their judgment, then shall he be constrained to obey it by the rest.

Whoever intentionally or deceitfully kills another, shall be executed, and whoever shelters him shall be banished.

Whoever burns the property of another shall no longer be regarded as a countryman, and whoever shelters him shall make good the damage done.

Whoever injures another, or robs him, and hath property in our country, shall make satisfaction out of the same.

No one shall distrain a debtor without a judge, nor any one who is not his debtor, or the surety for such debtor.

Every one in these dales shall submit to the judge, or we, the sworn confederates, all will take satisfaction for all the injury occasioned by his contumacy. And if in any internal division the one party will not accept justice, all the rest shall help the other party. These decrees shall, God willing, endure eternally for our general advantage.]

[Footnote 45: The Austrian knights were in the habit of wearing a plum of peacocks' feathers in their helmets. After the overthrow of the Austrian dominion in Switzerland, it was made highly penal to wear the peacock's feather at any public assembly there.]

[Footnote 46: The bench reserved for the nobility.]

[Footnote 47: The Landamman was an officer chosen by the Swiss Gemeinde, or Diet, to preside over them. The Banneret was an officer intrusted with the keeping of the State Banner and such others as were taken in battle.]

[Footnote 48: According to the custom by which, when the last male descendent of a noble family died, his sword, helmet, and shield, were buried with him.]

[Footnote 49: This frequently occurred. But in the event of an imperial city being mortgaged for the purpose of raising money, it lost its freedom, and was considered as put out of the realm.]

[Footnote 50: An allusion to the circumstance of the Imperial Crown not being hereditary, but conferred by election on one of the Counts of the Empire.]

[Footnote 51: These are the cots, or shealings, erected by the herdsmen for shelter while pasturing their herds on the mountains during the summer. These are left deserted in winter, during which period Melchthal's journey was taken.]

[Footnote 52: It was the custom at the meetings of the Landes Gemeinde, or Diet, to set swords upright in the ground as emblems of authority.]

[Footnote 53: The Heribann was a muster of warriors similar to the _arrière ban_ of France.]

[Footnote 54: A The Duke of Suabia, who soon afterward assassinated his uncle for withholding his patrimony from him.]

[Footnote 55: A sort of national militia.]

[Footnote 56: Rocks on shore of Lake Lucerne.]

[Footnote 57: An allusion to the gallant self-devotion of Arnold Struthan of Winkelried, at the battle of Sempach [9th July, 1386], who broke the Austrian phalanx by rushing on their lances, grasping as many of them as he could reach, and concentrating them upon his breast. The confederates rushed forward through the gap thus opened by the sacrifice of their comrade, broke and cut down their enemy's ranks, and soon became the masters of the field. "Dear and faithful confederates, I will open you a passage. Protect my wife and children," were the words of Winkelried, as he rushed to death.]

[Footnote 58: The URPHEDE was an oath of peculiar force. When a man, who was at feud with another, invaded his lands and was worsted, he often made terms with his enemy by swearing the _Urphede_, by which he bound himself to depart, and never to return with a hostile intention.]

* * * * *

THE HOMAGE OF THE ARTS

A MASQUE

Dedicated in all reverence to her Imperial Highness, the Crown Princess of Weimar, MARIA PAULOWNA, Grand-Duchess of Russia, and produced at the Court Theatre in Weimar, November 12, 1804.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

A FATHER. A MOTHER. A YOUTH. A MAIDEN. CHORUS OF COUNTRY PEOPLE. GENIUS. THE SEVEN ARTS.

The scene is laid in a country place. In the centre of the stage, an orange-tree, laden with fruit and bedecked with ribbons. The country people are setting it firmly in the earth, while maidens and children, on each side, hold it erect by means of garlands of flowers.

THE HOMAGE OF THE ARTS (1804)

TRANSLATED BY A. I. DU P. COLEMAN, A.M.

Professor of English Literature, College of the City of New York

THE FATHER

Blossom, blossom, bountiful tree
With thy golden apples gay,
Which from lands so far away
We have brought for ours to see!
Fullest fruitage ever bearing,
May thy branches ne'er decay!

ALL

Blossom, blossom, bountiful tree,
Shooting upward strong and free!

THE YOUTH

With the fragrant bloom united,
Proudly hang the golden store!
May it stand by storms unblighted,
May it grow from more to more!

ALL

May it stand by storms unblighted,
May it grow from more to more!

THE MOTHER

Mother Earth, O hear my word!
Guard the tender nursling now.
Thou that lead'st the speckled herd,
God of the fields, to thee we bow!

THE MAIDEN

Gentle Dryads, guard its growing,
Guard it, guard it, Pan most high!
Mountain nymphs, your gifts bestowing,
Shield it when the storms are blowing--
Bid their fury pass it by!

ALL

Gentle Dryads, guard its growing,
Guard it, guard it, Pan most high!

THE YOUTH

May kind skies smile down upon it,
Always clear and always blue!
Sun, send out thy softest radiance!
Feed it, Earth, with all thy dew!

ALL

Sun, send out thy softest radiance!
Feed it, Earth, with all thy dew!

THE FATHER

Joy, sweet joy, and life new-springing
May'st thou still to all be bringing--
Joy it was that set thee here.
May thy gifts of nectar gather
Children's children, like their father,
And all bless thee for thy cheer!

ALL

Joy, sweet joy, and life new-springing
May'st thou still to all be bringing--
Joy it was that set thee here!

[_They dance in picturesque groups around the tree. The orchestral music accompanies the dance, and gradually passes into a more elevated style, as there appear in the background from above_ GENIUS _and the Goddesses of the Seven Arts. The country people retire to the sides of the stage_, GENIUS _comes down to the centre, with_ PAINTING, SCULPTURE, _and_ ARCHITECTURE _on his right_, POETRY, DRAMA, MUSIC, _and_ DANCING _on his left_.]

THE ARTS

We come from a far land--
Still wandering, roaming
From people to people,
From ages to ages;
We are seeking a home that shall always endure--
In peaceful possession
To find our expression,
In stillness creating,
No power abating--
Yet we still seek in vain for a dwelling secure.

THE YOUTH

Who are these my eyes behold,
Like a troop of fairies nigh--
Forms whose beauty ne'er was told!
Beats my heart, I know not why!

GENIUS

Where weapons are clashing
And trumpets are blown,
Where hearts are with hate and with madness o'erflowing,
Where mortals are wand'ring, their goal never knowing,
Thence turn we our footsteps, in haste to be gone.

ARTS

We hate the deceivers,
Despisers of heaven;
We seek among mortals
Who to virtue are given.
Where pure hearts have welcome
To give to a friend,
We will build habitations
To dwell without end.

THE MAIDEN

What is this strange feeling?
What can it betoken?
By some hidden power my nature is moved,
They call to my heart like the friends I have loved--
Yet never before with these strangers I've spoken.

THE COUNTRY PEOPLE

What is this strange feeling?
What can it betoken?

GENIUS

Ah, but yonder see I mortals,
Come to revel with delight.
Look--with ribbons and with garlands
Richly is the tree bedight!
Surely joy their bosom fills--

[_To the country people_.]

Tell me what it is you do.

THE FATHER

Shepherds are we of these hills,
And a feast we keep, 'tis true.

GENIUS

What the feast? I fain would hear!

THE MOTHER

In honor of our lady dear,
Great as good, and good as great,
Who, to bless our humble vale,
From her high imperial station
Has descended--her we hail!

THE YOUTH

For her charms our jubilation,
Kindness like the sun's warm rays!

GENIUS

Wherefore do you plant a tree?

THE YOUTH

Ah, it comes of foreign race,
And its heart toward home is yearning;
That is why we fear its turning
From its new abiding-place.

GENIUS

That is why you plant it deep,
With the soil its roots encase,
That its blessings you may keep
In its new abiding-place?

THE MAIDEN

To her native land that bind her
Many, many are the ties--
All that she has left behind her
In her childhood's paradise:
All her mother's fond embraces,
And the love of noble brothers,
And her sisters' tender bosoms.
Can we then in equal measures,
Can the world, supply a price
For such pleasures,
For such treasures?

GENIUS

Love can reach to any distance,
Is not bound by far or near.
As the fire is undiminished
When another flame is kindled
With its heat, to glow more clear,
So that has no tie to bind her,
Which of old she held most dear:
Though she has left love behind her,
She will find love dwelling here.

THE MOTHER

She has come from halls of state,
Rich with gold and crystal sheen;
Can our hills please one so great,
Where for gold we boast but sunshine,
And our wealth is meadows green?

GENIUS

In a heart of princely kind
Much is hidden from your sense.
Know, then, that a noble mind
Puts the greatness into living,
Never needs to draw it thence.

THE YOUTH

Oh, lovely strangers, teach us to retain her!
Oh, teach us to find favor in her sight!
We long with perfumed garlands to enchain her
Within our homeland, never to take flight.

GENIUS

A noble heart soon finds itself at home--
Creates, in stillness working, its own world:
And as the tree takes hold upon the earth
With eager grasping roots, and soon is fast,
So will a great and doubly royal nature
By its own noble deeds take hold on life.
Love's tender ties soon knit themselves anew--
For where is happiness, there too is home!

ALL THE COUNTRY PEOPLE

Oh, handsome stranger, say how we may chain her,
The fairest, in our quiet vale retain her!

GENIUS

Courage! The help you seek is nigh at hand.
All is not strange to her in this new land.
Me she will know, and my attendant train,
When we have made our names and office plain.

[GENIUS _comes forward. The Seven Arts follow him and form a semi-circle about him. As they do so, they display their attributes, which until this moment have been concealed beneath their robes_.]

GENIUS (_addressing the Crown Princess_)

Lo, I am Genius--beauty's lord alone--
And these that follow me the sister Arts.
'Tis we that deck the altar and the throne;
We crown the work that springs from human hearts.
Long have we dealt with thine imperial line;
And she, the noble dame that gave thee birth,
With spotless hand a dedicated shrine
Still keeps for us, a sacred spot of earth.
We follow thee obedient to her sending;
For happiness through us finds perfect ending.

ARCHITECTURE (_a mural crown on her head, a golden ship in her right hand_)

By Neva's flood thou saw'st me sit at home:
Thy great forefather called me to his side--
And there I built for him a second Rome;
Through me it grew to be an empire's pride.
A paradise of stately pleasure-grounds
Arose beneath the magic of my wand;
And now the busy hum of life resounds
Where once a desert stretched on every hand.
The thunder of the cannon of thy fleet
Alarms the hoary Neptune in his ancient seat.

SCULPTURE (_a small image of victory in her hand_)

Me too hast thou beheld with wondering eyes,
That did the old Olympian world restore.
Upon a cliff that age and storm defies
Its mighty image stands for evermore.

(_Shows the Victory_)

Lo, Victory's image, by my fingers shaped!
Thy lordly brother grasps it in his hand:
And round her form his conquering banners draped,
See Alexander bear her through the land!
I strive, but end with lifeless imitation--
He builds of savage hordes a mighty nation.

PAINTING

And me, most noble, thou wilt know again--
The fond creator of depicted form;
Know very life in all its colors plain
Upon my canvas glowing fresh and warm.
Yea, through the eyes I can deceive the heart,
My skill can cheat the senses without wronging
And still the beating of the lover's heart--
Present the very face for which he's longing:
Wide as the poles asunder though they go,
They are not quite alone, my help who know.

POETRY

Through farthest space I fly on soaring pinion;
I know no limits; naught disputes my rule
Or bids me stay. I hold supreme dominion
O'er realms of thought--the Word my winged tool.
All things that move in heaven above, on earth,
Are to my penetrating eyes displayed--
Though in the secret depths they have their birth.
No bar across the poet's path is laid.
But I have found, in all my age-long quest,
Naught fairer than a pure soul in a lovely breast.

MUSIC (_with the lyre_)

The might of tones that tremble on the strings,
Thou know'st it well--for thou canst wield it too.
What fills the quivering heart when music sings
Can find in me alone its utterance true.
A sweet enchantment plays on every sense
When my harmonious flood has reached its height--
Until the enraptured soul would fain go hence
And from the lips, soft sighing, take its flight.
Where I set up my ladder, built of sound,
A way to scale the dizziest heights is found.

DANCING (_with the cymbals_)

In solemn stillness brooding, the Divine
Is by a silent soul perceived at rest:
Yet life and youth for gladsome motion pine--
They must expression find, must thus be blest.
Led by soft beauty's chain, they follow me
To lose themselves within the sinuous maze.
On Zephyr's wings I raise the body free;
In dancing steps I teach symmetric grace.
Grace is the gift I bear within my hand;
All things that move I lead with magic wand.

DRAMA (_with the double mask_)

The mask of Janus have I in my keeping--
On one side sorrow, on the other joy;
For man must alternate 'twixt bliss and weeping,
And with the dark is mixed a light alloy.
In all its deeps profound, its dizzy heights,
Life's tale before thine eyes I can unroll,
And make thee turn, richer for these great sights,
Into the peaceful silence of thy soul.
Who the whole world in one wide view surveys,
In his own heart no civil strife dismays.

GENIUS

And all of us who here appear before you,
Majestic sisterhood of noble arts,
For leave to serve you, Princess, would implore you:
Do but command, and we will play our parts.
As Theban walls obeyed the lyre's sweet sounding,
So here the senseless stone shall live at thine--
A world of beauty rise, thine eyes astounding.

ARCHITECTURE

Tall columns stand in well-proportioned line.

SCULPTURE

The marble shape beneath the mallet's blow.

PAINTING

Fresh life upon the painted canvas show.

MUSIC

For thee the stream of harmonies shall spring.

DANCING

Light dances follow close the vibrant string.
DRAMA

The whole world'll pass 'fore thee on the stage.

POETRY

And fancy with her magic equipage
Shall bear thee, ravished, to the fields on high.

PAINTING

And as the magic rainbow in the sky
Conjures its colors from the gorgeous sun,
So will we, each for all, and all as one,
With mystic sevenfold wealth of pageantry,
Weave for thee, Lady, life's great tapestry.

ALL THE ARTS (_embracing one another_)

For strength must wed with strength, and so impart
Beauty to life and life to forms of art.

* * * * *

HISTORY AND LITERATURE

THE THIRTY YEARS' WAR--THE LAST CAMPAIGNS OF GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS (1792)[59]

TRANSLATED BY THE REV. A. J. W. MORRISON, M.A.

The glorious battle of Leipzig effected a great change in the conduct of Gustavus Adolphus, as well as in the opinion which both friends and foes entertained of him. Successfully had he confronted the greatest general of the age, and had matched the strength of his tactics and the courage of his Swedes against the elite of the imperial army, the most experienced troops in Europe. From this moment he felt a firm confidence in his own powers--self-confidence has always been the parent of great actions. In all his subsequent operations more boldness and decision are observable; greater determination, even amidst the most unfavorable circumstances, a more lofty tone toward his adversaries, a more dignified bearing toward his allies, and even in his clemency, something of the forbearance of a conqueror. His natural courage was further heightened by the pious ardor of his imagination. He saw in his own cause that of heaven, and in the defeat of Tilly beheld the decisive interference of Providence against his enemies, and in himself the instrument of divine vengeance. Leaving his crown and his country far behind, he advanced on the wings of victory into the heart of Germany, which for centuries had seen no foreign conqueror within its bosom. The warlike spirit of its inhabitants, the vigilance of its numerous princes, the artful confederation of its states, the number of its strong castles, its many and broad rivers, had long restrained the ambition of its neighbors; and frequently as its extensive frontier had been attacked, its interior had been free from hostile invasion. The Empire had hitherto enjoyed the equivocal privilege of being its own enemy, though invincible from without. Even now, it was merely the disunion of its members, and the intolerance of religious zeal, that paved the way for the Swedish invader. The bond of union between the states, which alone had rendered the Empire invincible, was now dissolved; and Gustavus derived from Germany itself the power by which he subdued it. With as much courage as prudence, he availed himself of all that the favorable moment afforded; and equally at home in the cabinet and the field, he tore asunder the web of the artful policy, with as much ease, as he shattered walls with the thunder of his cannon. Uninterruptedly he pursued his conquests from one end of Germany to the other, without breaking the line of posts which commanded a secure retreat at any moment; and whether on the banks of the Rhine, or at the mouth of the Lech, alike maintaining his communication with his hereditary dominions.

The consternation of the Emperor and the League at Tilly's defeat at Leipzig, was scarcely greater than the surprise and embarrassment of the allies of the King of Sweden at his unexpected success. It was beyond both their expectations and their wishes. Annihilated in a moment was that formidable army which, while it checked his progress and set bounds to his ambition, rendered him in some measure dependent on themselves. He now stood in the heart of Germany, alone, without a rival or without an adversary who was a match for him. Nothing could stop his progress, or check his pretensions, if the intoxication of success should tempt him to abuse his victory. If formerly they had dreaded the Emperor's irresistible power, there was no less cause now to fear everything for the Empire from the violence of a foreign conqueror, and for the Catholic Church from the religious zeal of a Protestant king. The distrust and jealousy of some of the combined powers, which a stronger fear of the Emperor had for a time repressed, now revived; and scarcely had Gustavus Adolphus merited, by his courage and success, their confidence, when they began covertly to circumvent all his plans. Through a continual struggle with the arts of enemies, and the distrust of his own allies, must his victories henceforth be won; yet resolution, penetration, and prudence made their way through all impediments. But while his success excited the jealousy of his more powerful allies, France and Saxony, it gave courage to the weaker, and emboldened them openly to declare their sentiments and join his party. Those who could neither vie with Gustavus Adolphus in importance, nor suffer from his ambition, expected the more from the magnanimity of their powerful ally, who enriched them with the spoils of their enemies and protected them against the oppression of their stronger neighbors. His strength covered their weakness, and, inconsiderable in themselves, they acquired weight and influence from their union with the Swedish hero. This was the case with most of the free cities, and particularly with the weaker Protestant states. It was these that introduced the king into the heart of Germany; these covered his rear, supplied his troops with necessaries, received them into their fortresses, while they exposed their own lives in his battles. His prudent regard to their national pride, his popular deportment, some brilliant acts of justice, and his respect for the laws, were so many ties by which he bound the German Protestants to his cause; while the crying atrocities of the Imperialists, the Spaniards, and the troops of Lorraine, powerfully contributed to set his own conduct and that of his army in a favorable light.

If Gustavus Adolphus owed his success chiefly to his own genius, at the same time, it must be owned, he was greatly favored by fortune and by circumstances. Two great advantages gave him a decided superiority over the enemy. While he removed the scene of war into the lands of the League, drew their youth as recruits, enriched himself with booty, and used the revenues of their fugitive princes as his own, he at once took from the enemy the means of effectual resistance and maintained an expensive war with little cost to himself. And, moreover, while his opponents, the princes of the League, divided among themselves, and governed by different and often conflicting interests, acted without unanimity, and therefore without energy; while their generals were deficient in authority, their troops in obedience, the operations of their scattered armies without concert; while the general was separated from the lawgiver and the statesman--these several functions were united in Gustavus Adolphus, the only source from which authority flowed, the sole object to which the eye of the warrior turned, the soul of his party, the inventor as well as the executor of his plans. In him, therefore, the Protestants had a centre of unity and harmony, which was altogether wanting to their opponents. No wonder, then, if favored by such advantages, at the head of such an army, with such a genius to direct it, and guided by such political prudence, Gustavus Adolphus was irresistible.

With the sword in one hand and mercy in the other, he traversed Germany as a conqueror, a lawgiver, and a judge, in as short a time almost as the tourist of pleasure. The keys of towns and fortresses were delivered to him, as if to the native sovereign. No fortress was inaccessible; no river checked his victorious career. He conquered by the very terror of his name. The Swedish standards were planted along the whole stream of the Main: the Lower Palatinate was free, the troops of Spain and Lorraine had fled across the Rhine and the Moselle. The Swedes and Hessians poured like a torrent into the territories of Mentz, of Würtzburg, and Bamberg, and three fugitive bishops, at a distance from their sees, suffered dearly for their unfortunate attachment to the Emperor. It was now the turn for Maximilian, the leader of the League, to feel in his own dominions the miseries he had inflicted upon others. Neither the terrible fate of his allies, nor the peaceful overtures of Gustavus, who, in the midst of conquest, ever held out the hand of friendship, could conquer the obstinacy of this prince. The torrent of war now poured into Bavaria. Like the banks of the Rhine, those of the Lecke and the Donau were crowded with Swedish troops. Creeping into his fortresses, the defeated Elector abandoned to the ravages of the foe his dominions, hitherto unscathed by war, and on which the bigoted violence of the Bavarians seemed to invite retaliation. Munich itself opened its gates to the invincible monarch, and the fugitive Palatine, Frederick V., in the forsaken residence of his rival, consoled himself for a time for the loss of his dominions.