A lime-tree in front of STAUFFACHER'S house at Steinen,
in Schwytz, upon the public road, near a bridge.
WERNER STAUFFACHER and PFEIFFER, of Lucerne, enter into
conversation.
PFEIFFER.
Ay, ay, friend Stauffacher, as I have said,
Swear not to Austria, if you can help it.
Hold by the empire stoutly as of yore,
And God preserve you in your ancient freedom!
[Presses his hand warmly and is going.
STAUFFACHER.
Wait till my mistress comes. Now do! You are
My guest in Schwytz—I in Lucerne am yours.
PFEIFFER.
Thanks! thanks! But I must reach Gersau to-day.
Whatever grievances your rulers' pride
And grasping avarice may yet inflict,
Bear them in patience—soon a change may come.
Another emperor may mount the throne.
But Austria's once, and you are hers forever.
[Exit.
[STAUFEACHER sits down sorrowfully upon a bench
under the lime tree. Gertrude, his wife, enters,
and finds him in this posture. She places herself
near him, and looks at him for some time in silence.
GERTRUDE.
So sad, my love! I scarcely know thee now.
For many a day in silence I have marked
A moody sorrow furrowing thy brow.
Some silent grief is weighing on thy heart;
Trust it to me. I am thy faithful wife,
And I demand my half of all thy cares.
[STAUFFACHER gives her his hand and is silent.
Tell me what can oppress thy spirits thus?
Thy toil is blest—the world goes well with thee—
Our barns are full—our cattle many a score;
Our handsome team of sleek and well-fed steeds,
Brought from the mountain pastures safely home,
To winter in their comfortable stalls.
There stands thy house—no nobleman's more fair!
'Tis newly built with timber of the best,
All grooved and fitted with the nicest skill;
Its many glistening windows tell of comfort!
'Tis quartered o'er with scutcheons of all hues,
And proverbs sage, which passing travellers
Linger to read, and ponder o'er their meaning.
STAUFFACHER.
The house is strongly built, and handsomely,
But, ah! the ground on which we built it totters.
GERTRUDE.
Tell me, dear Werner, what you mean by that?
STAUFFACHER.
No later since than yesterday, I sat
Beneath this linden, thinking with delight,
How fairly all was finished, when from Kuessnacht
The viceroy and his men came riding by.
Before this house he halted in surprise:
At once I rose, and, as beseemed his rank,
Advanced respectfully to greet the lord,
To whom the emperor delegates his power,
As judge supreme within our Canton here.
"Who is the owner of this house?" he asked,
With mischief in his thoughts, for well he knew.
With prompt decision, thus I answered him:
"The emperor, your grace—my lord and yours,
And held by one in fief." On this he answered,
"I am the emperor's viceregent here,
And will not that each peasant churl should build
At his own pleasure, bearing him as freely
As though he were the master in the land.
I shall make bold to put a stop to this!"
So saying he, with menaces, rode off,
And left me musing, with a heavy heart,
On the fell purpose that his words betrayed.
GERTRUDE.
Mine own dear lord and husband! Wilt thou take
A word of honest counsel from thy wife?
I boast to be the noble Iberg's child,
A man of wide experience. Many a time,
As we sat spinning in the winter nights,
My sisters and myself, the people's chiefs
Were wont to gather round our father's hearth,
To read the old imperial charters, and
To hold sage converse on the country's weal.
Then heedfully I listened, marking well
What or the wise men thought, or good man wished,
And garnered up their wisdom in my heart.
Hear then, and mark me well; for thou wilt see,
I long have known the grief that weighs thee down.
The viceroy hates thee, fain would injure thee,
For thou hast crossed his wish to bend the Swiss
In homage to this upstart house of princes,
And kept them stanch, like their good sires of old,
In true allegiance to the empire. Say.
Is't not so, Werner? Tell nee, am I wrong?
STAUFFACHER.
'Tis even so. For this doth Gessler hate me.
GERTRUDE.
He burns with envy, too, to see thee living
Happy and free on thy inheritance,
For he has none. From the emperor himself
Thou holdest in fief the lands thy fathers left thee.
There's not a prince in the empire that can show
A better title to his heritage;
For thou hast over thee no lord but one,
And he the mightiest of all Christian kings.
Gessler, we know, is but a younger son,
His only wealth the knightly cloak he wears;
He therefore views an honest man's good fortune
With a malignant and a jealous eye.
Long has he sworn to compass thy destruction
As yet thou art uninjured. Wilt thou wait
Till he may safely give his malice scope?
A wise man would anticipate the blow.
STAUFFACHER.
What's to be done?
GERTRUDE.
Now hear what I advise.
Thou knowest well, how here with us in Schwytz,
All worthy men are groaning underneath
This Gessler's grasping, grinding tyranny.
Doubt not the men of Unterwald as well,
And Uri, too, are chafing like ourselves,
At this oppressive and heart-wearying yoke.
For there, across the lake, the Landenberg
Wields the same iron rule as Gessler here—
No fishing-boat comes over to our side
But brings the tidings of some new encroachment,
Some outrage fresh, more grievous than the last.
Then it were well that some of you—true men—
Men sound at heart, should secretly devise
How best to shake this hateful thraldom off.
Well do I know that God would not desert you,
But lend his favor to the righteous cause.
Hast thou no friend in Uri, say, to whom
Thou frankly may'st unbosom all thy thoughts?
STAUFFACHER.
I know full many a gallant fellow there,
And nobles, too,—great men, of high repute,
In whom I can repose unbounded trust.
[Rising.
Wife! What a storm of wild and perilous thoughts
Hast thou stirred up within my tranquil breast?
The darkest musings of my bosom thou
Hast dragged to light, and placed them full before me,
And what I scarce dared harbor e'en in thought,
Thou speakest plainly out, with fearless tongue.
But hast thou weighed well what thou urgest thus?
Discord will come, and the fierce clang of arms,
To scare this valley's long unbroken peace,
If we, a feeble shepherd race, shall dare
Him to the fight that lords it o'er the world.
Even now they only wait some fair pretext
For setting loose their savage warrior hordes,
To scourge and ravage this devoted land,
To lord it o'er us with the victor's rights,
And 'neath the show of lawful chastisement,
Despoil us of our chartered liberties.
GERTRUDE.
You, too, are men; can wield a battle-axe
As well as they. God ne'er deserts the brave.
STAUFFACHER.
Oh wife! a horrid, ruthless fiend is war,
That strikes at once the shepherd and his flock.
GERTRUDE.
Whate'er great heaven inflicts we must endure;
No heart of noble temper brooks injustice.
STAUFFACHER.
This house—thy pride—war, unrelenting war,
Will burn it down.
GERTRUDE.
And did I think this heart
Enslaved and fettered to the things of earth,
With my own hand I'd hurl the kindling torch.
STAUFFACHER.
Thou hast faith in human kindness, wife; but war
Spares not the tender infant in its cradle.
GERTRUDE.
There is a friend to innocence in heaven
Look forward, Werner—not behind you, now!
STAUFFACHER.
We men may perish bravely, sword in hand;
But oh, what fate, my Gertrude, may be thine?
GERTRUDE.
None are so weak, but one last choice is left.
A spring from yonder bridge, and I am free!
STAUFFACHER
(embracing her).
Well may he fight for hearth and home that clasps
A heart so rare as thine against his own!
What are the hosts of emperors to him!
Gertrude, farewell! I will to Uri straight.
There lives my worthy comrade, Walter Furst,
His thoughts and mine upon these times are one.
There, too, resides the noble Banneret
Of Attinghaus. High though of blood he be,
He loves the people, honors their old customs.
With both of these I will take counsel how
To rid us bravely of our country's foe.
Farewell! and while I am away, bear thou
A watchful eye in management at home.
The pilgrim journeying to the house of God,
And pious monk, collecting for his cloister,
To these give liberally from purse and garner.
Stauffacher's house would not be hid. Right out
Upon the public way it stands, and offers
To all that pass an hospitable roof.
[While they are retiring, TELL enters with BAUMGARTEN.
TELL.
Now, then, you have no further need of me.
Enter yon house. 'Tis Werner Stauffacher's,
A man that is a father to distress.
See, there he is himself! Come, follow me.
[They retire up. Scene changes.
in Schwytz, upon the public road, near a bridge.
WERNER STAUFFACHER and PFEIFFER, of Lucerne, enter into
conversation.
PFEIFFER.
Ay, ay, friend Stauffacher, as I have said,
Swear not to Austria, if you can help it.
Hold by the empire stoutly as of yore,
And God preserve you in your ancient freedom!
[Presses his hand warmly and is going.
STAUFFACHER.
Wait till my mistress comes. Now do! You are
My guest in Schwytz—I in Lucerne am yours.
PFEIFFER.
Thanks! thanks! But I must reach Gersau to-day.
Whatever grievances your rulers' pride
And grasping avarice may yet inflict,
Bear them in patience—soon a change may come.
Another emperor may mount the throne.
But Austria's once, and you are hers forever.
[Exit.
[STAUFEACHER sits down sorrowfully upon a bench
under the lime tree. Gertrude, his wife, enters,
and finds him in this posture. She places herself
near him, and looks at him for some time in silence.
GERTRUDE.
So sad, my love! I scarcely know thee now.
For many a day in silence I have marked
A moody sorrow furrowing thy brow.
Some silent grief is weighing on thy heart;
Trust it to me. I am thy faithful wife,
And I demand my half of all thy cares.
[STAUFFACHER gives her his hand and is silent.
Tell me what can oppress thy spirits thus?
Thy toil is blest—the world goes well with thee—
Our barns are full—our cattle many a score;
Our handsome team of sleek and well-fed steeds,
Brought from the mountain pastures safely home,
To winter in their comfortable stalls.
There stands thy house—no nobleman's more fair!
'Tis newly built with timber of the best,
All grooved and fitted with the nicest skill;
Its many glistening windows tell of comfort!
'Tis quartered o'er with scutcheons of all hues,
And proverbs sage, which passing travellers
Linger to read, and ponder o'er their meaning.
STAUFFACHER.
The house is strongly built, and handsomely,
But, ah! the ground on which we built it totters.
GERTRUDE.
Tell me, dear Werner, what you mean by that?
STAUFFACHER.
No later since than yesterday, I sat
Beneath this linden, thinking with delight,
How fairly all was finished, when from Kuessnacht
The viceroy and his men came riding by.
Before this house he halted in surprise:
At once I rose, and, as beseemed his rank,
Advanced respectfully to greet the lord,
To whom the emperor delegates his power,
As judge supreme within our Canton here.
"Who is the owner of this house?" he asked,
With mischief in his thoughts, for well he knew.
With prompt decision, thus I answered him:
"The emperor, your grace—my lord and yours,
And held by one in fief." On this he answered,
"I am the emperor's viceregent here,
And will not that each peasant churl should build
At his own pleasure, bearing him as freely
As though he were the master in the land.
I shall make bold to put a stop to this!"
So saying he, with menaces, rode off,
And left me musing, with a heavy heart,
On the fell purpose that his words betrayed.
GERTRUDE.
Mine own dear lord and husband! Wilt thou take
A word of honest counsel from thy wife?
I boast to be the noble Iberg's child,
A man of wide experience. Many a time,
As we sat spinning in the winter nights,
My sisters and myself, the people's chiefs
Were wont to gather round our father's hearth,
To read the old imperial charters, and
To hold sage converse on the country's weal.
Then heedfully I listened, marking well
What or the wise men thought, or good man wished,
And garnered up their wisdom in my heart.
Hear then, and mark me well; for thou wilt see,
I long have known the grief that weighs thee down.
The viceroy hates thee, fain would injure thee,
For thou hast crossed his wish to bend the Swiss
In homage to this upstart house of princes,
And kept them stanch, like their good sires of old,
In true allegiance to the empire. Say.
Is't not so, Werner? Tell nee, am I wrong?
STAUFFACHER.
'Tis even so. For this doth Gessler hate me.
GERTRUDE.
He burns with envy, too, to see thee living
Happy and free on thy inheritance,
For he has none. From the emperor himself
Thou holdest in fief the lands thy fathers left thee.
There's not a prince in the empire that can show
A better title to his heritage;
For thou hast over thee no lord but one,
And he the mightiest of all Christian kings.
Gessler, we know, is but a younger son,
His only wealth the knightly cloak he wears;
He therefore views an honest man's good fortune
With a malignant and a jealous eye.
Long has he sworn to compass thy destruction
As yet thou art uninjured. Wilt thou wait
Till he may safely give his malice scope?
A wise man would anticipate the blow.
STAUFFACHER.
What's to be done?
GERTRUDE.
Now hear what I advise.
Thou knowest well, how here with us in Schwytz,
All worthy men are groaning underneath
This Gessler's grasping, grinding tyranny.
Doubt not the men of Unterwald as well,
And Uri, too, are chafing like ourselves,
At this oppressive and heart-wearying yoke.
For there, across the lake, the Landenberg
Wields the same iron rule as Gessler here—
No fishing-boat comes over to our side
But brings the tidings of some new encroachment,
Some outrage fresh, more grievous than the last.
Then it were well that some of you—true men—
Men sound at heart, should secretly devise
How best to shake this hateful thraldom off.
Well do I know that God would not desert you,
But lend his favor to the righteous cause.
Hast thou no friend in Uri, say, to whom
Thou frankly may'st unbosom all thy thoughts?
STAUFFACHER.
I know full many a gallant fellow there,
And nobles, too,—great men, of high repute,
In whom I can repose unbounded trust.
[Rising.
Wife! What a storm of wild and perilous thoughts
Hast thou stirred up within my tranquil breast?
The darkest musings of my bosom thou
Hast dragged to light, and placed them full before me,
And what I scarce dared harbor e'en in thought,
Thou speakest plainly out, with fearless tongue.
But hast thou weighed well what thou urgest thus?
Discord will come, and the fierce clang of arms,
To scare this valley's long unbroken peace,
If we, a feeble shepherd race, shall dare
Him to the fight that lords it o'er the world.
Even now they only wait some fair pretext
For setting loose their savage warrior hordes,
To scourge and ravage this devoted land,
To lord it o'er us with the victor's rights,
And 'neath the show of lawful chastisement,
Despoil us of our chartered liberties.
GERTRUDE.
You, too, are men; can wield a battle-axe
As well as they. God ne'er deserts the brave.
STAUFFACHER.
Oh wife! a horrid, ruthless fiend is war,
That strikes at once the shepherd and his flock.
GERTRUDE.
Whate'er great heaven inflicts we must endure;
No heart of noble temper brooks injustice.
STAUFFACHER.
This house—thy pride—war, unrelenting war,
Will burn it down.
GERTRUDE.
And did I think this heart
Enslaved and fettered to the things of earth,
With my own hand I'd hurl the kindling torch.
STAUFFACHER.
Thou hast faith in human kindness, wife; but war
Spares not the tender infant in its cradle.
GERTRUDE.
There is a friend to innocence in heaven
Look forward, Werner—not behind you, now!
STAUFFACHER.
We men may perish bravely, sword in hand;
But oh, what fate, my Gertrude, may be thine?
GERTRUDE.
None are so weak, but one last choice is left.
A spring from yonder bridge, and I am free!
STAUFFACHER
(embracing her).
Well may he fight for hearth and home that clasps
A heart so rare as thine against his own!
What are the hosts of emperors to him!
Gertrude, farewell! I will to Uri straight.
There lives my worthy comrade, Walter Furst,
His thoughts and mine upon these times are one.
There, too, resides the noble Banneret
Of Attinghaus. High though of blood he be,
He loves the people, honors their old customs.
With both of these I will take counsel how
To rid us bravely of our country's foe.
Farewell! and while I am away, bear thou
A watchful eye in management at home.
The pilgrim journeying to the house of God,
And pious monk, collecting for his cloister,
To these give liberally from purse and garner.
Stauffacher's house would not be hid. Right out
Upon the public way it stands, and offers
To all that pass an hospitable roof.
[While they are retiring, TELL enters with BAUMGARTEN.
TELL.
Now, then, you have no further need of me.
Enter yon house. 'Tis Werner Stauffacher's,
A man that is a father to distress.
See, there he is himself! Come, follow me.
[They retire up. Scene changes.
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