The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Volume 03

Yet do not, for that I am young, and want

Experience, slight my counsel and my words.

'Tis not the wantonness of youthful blood

That fires my spirit; but a pang so deep

That e'en the flinty rocks must pity me.

You, too, are fathers, heads of families,

And you must wish to have a virtuous son,

To reverence your gray hairs, and shield your eyes

With pious and affectionate regard.

Do not, I pray, because in limb and fortune

You still are unassail'd, and still your eyes

Revolve undimm'd and sparkling in their spheres—

Oh, do not, therefore, disregard our wrongs!

Above you, also, hangs the tyrant's sword.

You, too, have striven to alienate the land

From Austria. This was all my father's crime:

You share his guilt, and may his punishment.

STAUFFACHER (to FÜRST).

Do thou resolve! I am prepared to follow.

FÜRST.

First let us learn what steps the noble lords

Von Sillinen and Attinghaus propose.

Their names would rally thousands to the cause.

MELCH.

Is there a name within the Forest Mountains

That carries more respect than yours—and yours?

On names like these the people build their trust

In time of need—such names are household words.

Rich was your heritage of manly worth,

And richly have you added to its stores.

What need of nobles? Let us do the work

Ourselves. Yes, though we have to stand alone,

We shall be able to maintain our rights.

STAUFF.

The nobles' wrongs are not so great as ours.

The torrent, that lays waste the lower grounds,

Hath not ascended to the uplands yet.

But let them see the country once in arms,

They'll not refuse to lend a helping hand.

FÜRST.

Were there an umpire 'twixt ourselves and Austria,

Justice and law might then decide our quarrel.

But our oppressor is our Emperor too,

And judge supreme. 'Tis God must help us, then,

And our own arm! Be yours the task to rouse

The men of Schwytz; I'll rally friends in Uri.

But whom are we to send to Unterwald?

MELCH.

Thither send me. Whom should it more concern?

FÜRST.

No, Melchthal, no; you are my guest, and I

Must answer for your safety.

MELCH.

                               Let me go.

I know each forest track and mountain path;

Friends too, I'll find, be sure, on every hand,

To give me willing shelter from the foe.

STAUFF.

Nay, let him go; no traitors harbor there:

For tyranny is so abhorred in Unterwald,

No tools can there be found to work her will.

In the low valleys, too, the Alzeller

Will gain confederates, and rouse the country.

MELCH.

But how shall we communicate, and not

Awaken the suspicion of the tyrants?

STAUFF.

Might we not meet at Brunnen or at Treib,

Where merchant vessels with their cargoes come?

FÜRST.

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 bound'ries 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 God's guidance, fix what next to do.

STAUFF.

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.

FÜRST and MELCHTHAL.

In life and death.

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

MELCH.

               Alas, my old blind father!

The day of freedom, that thou canst not see.

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 darken'd 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 passed 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 hills.

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?

ATTING.

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 niggard measure, that thou must

Be chary of them 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).

Ay, pity 'tis thou art! Alas, that home

To thee has grown so strange! Oh, Uly! Uly!

I scarce do know thee now, thus deck'd in silks,

The peacock's feather[45] flaunting in thy cap,

And purple mantle round thy shoulders flung;

Thou look'st upon the peasant with disdain;

And tak'st his honest greeting with a blush.

RUDENZ.

All honor due to him I gladly pay,

But must deny the right he would usurp.

ATTING.

The sore displeasure of its monarch rests

Upon our 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 tak'st 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 oppress'd, I know it, uncle.

But why? Who plunged it into this distress?

A word, one little easy word, might buy

Instant deliverance from all our ills,

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 nobles on the Herrenbank;[46]

They'll have the Kaiser for their lord, forsooth—

That is to say, they'll have no lord at all.

ATTING.

Must I hear this, and from thy lips, rash boy!

RUDENZ.

You urged me to this answer. Hear me out.

What, uncle, is the character you've stoop'd

To fill contentedly through life? Have you

No higher pride than in these lonely wilds

To be the Landamman or Banneret,[47]

The petty chieftain of a shepherd race?

How! Were it not a far more glorious choice,

To bend in homage to our royal lord,

And swell the princely splendors of his court,

Than sit at home, the peer of your own vassals,

And share the judgment-seat with vulgar clowns?

ATTING.

Ah, Uly, Uly; all too well I see,

The tempter's voice has caught thy willing ear,

And pour'd its subtle poison in thy heart.

RUDENZ.

Yes, I conceal it not. It doth offend

My inmost soul, to hear the stranger's gibes,

That taunt us with the name of "Peasant Nobles!"

Think you the heart that's stirring here can brook,

While all the young nobility around

Are reaping honor under Habsburg's banner,

That I should loiter, in inglorious ease,

Here on the heritage my fathers left,

And, in the dull routine of vulgar toil,

Lose all life's glorious spring? In other lands

Great deeds are done. A world of fair renown

Beyond these mountains stirs in martial pomp.

My helm and shield are rusting in the hall;

The martial trumpet's spirit-stirring blast,

The herald's call, inviting to the lists,

Rouse not the echoes of these vales, where naught

Save cowherd's horn and cattle bell is heard,

In one unvarying dull monotony.

ATTING.

Deluded boy, seduced by empty show!

Despise the land that gave thee birth! Ashamed

Of the good ancient customs of thy sires!

The day will come, when thou, with burning tears,

Wilt long for home, and for thy native hills,

And that dear melody of tuneful herds,

Which now, in proud disgust, thou dost despise!

A day when wistful pangs shall shake thy heart,

Hearing their music in a foreign land.

Oh! potent is the spell that binds to home!

No, no, the cold, false world is not for thee.

At the proud court, with thy true heart, thou wilt

Forever feel a stranger among strangers.

The world asks virtues of far other stamp

Than thou hast learned within these simple vales.

But go—go thither—barter thy free soul,

Take land in fief, be minion to a prince,

Where thou might'st be lord paramount, and prince

Of all thine own unburden'd heritage!

O, Uly, Uly, stay among thy people!

Go not to Altdorf. Oh, abandon not

The sacred cause of thy wrong'd native land!

I am the last of all my race. My name

Ends with me. Yonder hang my helm and shield;

They will be buried with me in the grave.[48]

And must I think, when yielding up my breath,

That thou but wait'st the closing of mine eyes,

To stoop thy knee to this new feudal court,

And take in vassalage from Austria's hands

The noble lands, which I from God received,

Free and unfetter'd as the mountain air!

RUDENZ.

'Tis vain for us to strive against the king.

The world pertains to him. Shall we alone,

In mad presumptuous obstinacy, strive

To break that mighty chain of lands, which he

Hath drawn around us with his giant grasp?

His are the markets, his the courts—his, too,

The highways; nay, the very carrier's horse,

That traffics on the Gotthardt, pays him toll.

By his dominions, as within a net,

We are inclosed, and girded round about—

And will the Empire shield us? Say, can it

Protect itself 'gainst Austria's growing power?

To God, and not to emperors must we look!

What store can on their promises be placed,

When they, to meet their own necessities,

Can pawn, and even alienate the towns

That flee for shelter 'neath the Eagle's wings?[49]

No, uncle! It is wise and wholesome prudence,

In times like these, when faction's all abroad,

To vow attachment to some mighty chief.

The imperial crown's transferred from line to line.[50]

It has no memory for faithful service

But to secure the favor of these great

Hereditary masters, were to sow

Seed for a future harvest.

ATTINGHAUSEN.

                              Art so wise?

Wilt thou see clearer than thy noble sires,

Who battled for fair freedom's priceless gem

With life, and fortune, and heroic arm?

Sail down the lake to Lucern, there inquire

How Austria's thraldom weighs the Cantons down.

Soon she will come to count our sheep, our cattle,

To portion out the Alps, e'en to their peaks,

And in our own free woods to hinder us

From striking down the eagle or the stag;

To set her tolls on every bridge and gate,

Impoverish us, to swell her lust of sway,

And drain our dearest blood to feed her wars.

No, if our blood must flow, let it be shed

In our own cause! We purchase liberty

More cheaply far than bondage.

RUDENZ.

                         What can we,

A shepherd race, against great Albert's hosts?

ATTING.

Learn, foolish boy, to know this shepherd race!

I know them, I have led them on in fight—

I saw them in the battle of Favenz.

What! Austria try, forsooth, to force on us

A yoke we are determined not to bear!

Oh, learn to feel from what a stock thou'rt sprung;

Cast not, for tinsel trash and idle show,

The precious jewel of thy worth away.

To be the chieftain of a free born race,

Bound to thee only by their unbought love,

Ready to stand—to fight—to die with thee,

Be that thy pride, be that thy noblest boast!

Knit to thy heart the ties of kindred—home—

Cling to the land, the dear land of thy sires,

Grapple to that with thy whole heart and soul!

Thy power is rooted deep and strongly here,

But in yon stranger world thou'lt stand alone,

A trembling reed beat down by every blast.

Oh come! 'tis long since we have seen thee, Uly!

Tarry but this one day. Only today!

Go not to Altdorf. Wilt thou? Not today!

For this one day, bestow thee on thy friends.

[Takes his hand.]

RUDENZ.

I gave my word. Unhand me! I am bound.

ATTING. (drops his hand and says sternly).

Bound, didst thou say? Oh yes, unhappy boy,

Thou art indeed. But not by word or oath.

'Tis by the silken mesh of love thou'rt bound.

[RUDENZ turns away.]

Ay, hide thee, as thou wilt. 'Tis she, I know,

Bertha of Bruneck, draws thee to the court;

'Tis she that chains thee to the Emperor's service.

Thou think'st to win the noble knightly maid

By thy apostacy. Be not deceived.

She is held out before thee as a lure;

But never meant for innocence like thine.

RUDENZ.

No more, I've heard enough. So fare you well.

[Exit.]

ATTING.

Stay, Uly! Stay! Rash boy, he's gone! I can

Nor hold him back, nor save him from destruction.

And so the Wolfshot has deserted us;

Others will follow his example soon.

This foreign witchery, sweeping o'er our hills,

Tears with its potent spell our youth away.

O luckless hour, when men and manners strange

Into these calm and happy valleys came,

To warp our primitive and guileless ways!

The new is pressing on with might. The old,

The good, the simple, all fleet fast away.

New times come on. A race is springing up

That think not as their fathers thought before!

What do I hear? All, all are in the grave

With whom erewhile I moved, and held converse;

My age has long been laid beneath the sod

Happy the man, who may not live to see

What shall be done by those that follow me!

SCENE II

A meadow surrounded by high rocks and wooded ground. On the rocks are tracks, with rails and ladders, by which the peasants are afterward seen descending. In the background the lake is observed, and over it a moon rainbow in the early part of the scene. The prospect is closed by lofty mountains, with glaciers rising behind them. The stage is dark, but the lake and glaciers glisten in the moonlight.

MELCHTHAL, BAUMGARTEN, WINKELRIED, MEYER VON SARNEN BURKHART AM BUHEL, ARNOLD VON SEWA, KLAUS VON DER FLUE, and four other peasants, all armed.

MELCHTHAL (behind the scenes).

The mountain pass is open. Follow me!

I see the rock, and little cross upon it:

This is the spot; here is the Rootli.

[They enter with torches.]

WINKELRIED.

Hark!

SEWA.

The coast is clear.

MEYER.

            None of our comrades come?

We are the first, we Unterwaldeners.

MELCH.

How far is't i' the night?

BAUMGARTEN.

                    The beacon watch

Upon the Selisberg has just called two.

[A bell is heard at a distance.]

MEYER.

Hush! Hark!

BUHEL.

             The forest chapel's matin bell

Chimes clearly o'er the lake from Switzerland.

VON F.

The air is clear and bears the sound so far.

MELCH.

Go, you and you, and light some broken boughs,

Let's bid them welcome with a cheerful blaze.

[Two peasants exeunt.]

SEWA.

The moon shines fair tonight. Beneath its beams

The lake reposes, bright as burnish'd steel.

BUHEL. They'll have an easy passage.

WINK. (pointing to the lake).

                 Ha! look there!

Do you see nothing?

MEYER.

                Ay, indeed, I do!

A rainbow in the middle of the night.

MELCH.

Formed by the bright reflection of the moon!

VON F.

A sign most strange and wonderful, indeed!

Many there be who ne'er have seen the like.

SEWA.

'Tis doubled, see, a paler one above!

BAUM.

A boat is gliding yonder right beneath it.

MELCH.

That must be Werner Stauffacher! I knew

The worthy patriot would not tarry long.

[Goes with BAUMGARTEN toward the shore.]

MEYER.

The Uri men are like to be the last.

BUHEL.

They're forced to take a winding circuit through

The mountains; for the Viceroy's spies are out.

[In the meanwhile the two peasants have kindled a fire in the centre of the stage.] MELCHTHAL (on the shore).

Who's there? The word?

STAUFFACHER (from below).

Friends of the country.

[All retire up the stage, toward the party landing from the boat. Enter STAUFFACHER, ITEL REDING, HANS AUF DER MAUER, JORG IM HOFE, CONRAD HUNN, ULRICH DER SCHMIDT, JOST VON WEILER, and three other peasants, armed.]

ALL.

Welcome!

[While the rest remain behind exchanging greetings, MELCHTHAL Comes forward with STAUFFACHER.]

MELCH.

Oh worthy Stauffacher, I've look'd but now

On him who could not look on me again;

I've laid my hands upon his rayless eyes,

And on their vacant orbits sworn a vow

Of vengeance, only to be cool'd in blood.

STAUFF.

Speak not of vengeance. We are here, to meet

The threatened evil, not to avenge the past.

Now tell me what you've done, and what secured,

To aid the common cause in Unterwald.

How stand the peasantry disposed, and how

Yourself escaped the wiles of treachery?

MELCH.

Through the Surenen's fearful mountain chain,

Where dreary ice-fields stretch on every side,

And sound is none save the hoarse vulture's cry,

I reach'd the Alpine pasture, where the herds

From Uri and from Engelberg resort,

And turn their cattle forth to graze in common.

Still as I went along, I slaked my thirst

With the coarse oozings of the glacier heights

That thro' the crevices come foaming down,

And turned to rest me in the herdsmen's cots,[51]

Where I was host and guest, until I gain'd

The cheerful homes and social haunts of men.

Already through these distant vales had spread

The rumor of this last atrocity;

And wheresoe'er I went, at every door,

Kind words saluted me and gentle looks.

I found these simple spirits all in arms

Against our rulers' tyrannous encroachments.

For as their Alps through each succeeding year

Yield the same roots—their streams flow ever on

In the same channels—nay, the clouds and winds

The selfsame course unalterably pursue,

So have old customs there, from sire to son,

Been handed down, unchanging and unchanged;

Nor will they brook to swerve or turn aside

From the fixed even tenor of their life.

With grasp of their hard hands they welcomed me—

Took from the walls their rusty falchions down—

And from their eyes the soul of valor flash'd

With joyful lustre, as I spoke those names,

Sacred to every peasant in the mountains,

Your own and Walter Fürst's. Whate'er your voice

Should dictate as the right, they swore to do;

And you they swore to follow e'en to death.

–So sped I on from house to house, secure

In the guest's sacred privilege;—and when

I reached at last the valley of my home,

Where dwell my kinsmen, scatter'd far and near—

And when I found my father, stript and blind,

Upon the stranger's straw, fed by the alms

Of charity—

STAUFFACHER.

Great heavens!

MELCHTHAL.

                  Yet wept I not!

No—not in weak and unavailing tears

Spent I the force of my fierce burning anguish;

Deep in my bosom, like some precious treasure,

I lock'd it fast, and thought on deeds alone.

Through every winding of the hills I crept—

No valley so remote but I explored it;

Nay, at the very glacier's ice-clad base,

I sought and found the homes of living men;

And still, where'er my wandering footsteps turn'd,

The selfsame hatred of these tyrants met me.

For even there, at vegetation's verge,

Where the numb'd earth is barren of all fruits,

Their grasping hands had been for plunder thrust.

Into the hearts of all this honest race

The story of my wrongs struck deep, and now

They, to a man, are ours; both heart and hand.

STAUFF.

Great things, indeed, you've wrought in little time.

MELCH.

I did still more than this. The fortresses,

Rossberg and Sarnen, are the country's dread;

For from behind their adamantine walls

The foe, like eagle from his eyrie swoops,

And, safe himself, spreads havoc o'er the land.

With my own eyes I wish'd to weigh its strength,

So went to Sarnen, and explored the castle.

STAUFF.

How! Venture even into the tiger's den?

MELCH.

Disguised in pilgrim's weeds I entered it;

I saw the Viceroy feasting at his board—