  (Switzerland had been conquered by Austria, and Gesler, a cruel tyrant, was her governor. William Tell had refused to bow before Gesler’s hat, which had been elevated on a pole; he was therefore arrested and taken before the governor. His son Albert was also taken, and both were threatened with death.) Scene I(William Tell, Albert, his son, and Gesler with officers. Tell in chains.) Gesler. What is thy name? Tell. My name? It matters not to keep it from thee now— My name is Tell. Ges. Tell!—William Tell? Tell. The same. Ges. What! he so famed ’bove all his countrymen For guiding o’er the stormy lake the boat? And such a master of his bow, ’tis said His arrows never miss! Indeed, I’ll take Exquisite vengeance! Mark! I’ll spare thy life— Thy boy’s, too!—both of you are free—on one Condition. Tell. Name it. A trial of your skill with that same bow You shoot so well with. Tell. Name the trial you Would have me make. Ges. You look upon your boy As though instinctively you guessed it. Tell. Look upon my boy! What mean you? Look upon My boy as though I guessed it! Guessed the trial Instinctively! you do not mean—no—no— You would not have me make a trial of My skill upon my child! Impossible! I do not guess your meaning. Ges. I would see Thee hit an apple at the distance of A hundred paces. Tell. Is my boy to hold it? Ges. No. Tell. No! I’ll send the arrow through the core. Ges. It is to rest upon his head. Tell. Great Heaven, you hear him! Ges. Thou dost hear the choice I give— Such trial of the skill thou art master of, Or death to both of you; not otherwise To be escaped. Tell. O monster! Ges. Wilt thou do it? Albert. He will! he will! Tell. Ferocious monster! Make A father murder his own child— Ges. Take off His chains, if he consent. Tell. With his own hand! Alb. He does. (Gesler signs to his officers, who proceed to take off Tell’s chains. Tell all the time unconscious what they do.) Tell. With his own hand! Murder his child with his own hand—this hand! The hand I’ve led him, when an infant, by! ’Tis beyond horror—’tis most horrible. Amazement! (His chains fall off.) What’s that you’ve done to me? Villains! put on my chains again. My hands Are free from blood, and have no gust for it, That they should drink my child’s! Here! here! I’ll not Murder my boy for Gesler. Alb. Father—father! You will not hit me, father! Tell. Hit thee! Send The arrow through thy brain; or, missing that, Shoot out an eye; or, if thine eye escape, Mangle the cheek I’ve seen thy mother’s lips Cover with kisses. Hit thee—hit a hair Of thee, and cleave thy mother’s heart. Ges. Dost thou consent? Ges. For what? Tell. To shoot my boy! Alb. No, father—no! To save me! You’ll be sure to hit the apple— Will you not save me, father? Tell. Lead me forth; I’ll make the trial. Alb. Thank you! Tell. Thank me! Do You know for what? I will not make the trial, To take him to his mother in my arms And lay him down a corpse before her! Ges. Then he dies this moment—and you certainly Do murder him whose life you have a chance To save, and will not use it. Tell. Well, I’ll do it. I’ll make the trial. Alb. Father— Tell. Speak not to me; Let me not hear thy voice. Thou must be dumb; And so should all things be. Earth should be dumb, And heaven—unless its thunders muttered at The deed, and sent a bolt to stop it. Give me My bow and quiver! Ges. When all’s ready. Scene IIEnter, slowly, people in evident distress. Officers, Sarnem, Gesler, Tell, Albert, and soldiers, one bearing Tell’s bow and quiver, another with a basket of apples. Ges. That is your ground. Now shall they measure thence A hundred paces. Take the distance. Tell. Is the line a true one? Ges. True or not, what is’t to thee? Tell. What is’t to me? A little thing, A very little thing—a yard or two Is nothing here or there—were it a wolf I shot at. Never mind. Ges. Be thankful, slave, Our grace accords thee life on any terms. Tell. I will be thankful, Gesler. Villain, stop! You measure to the sun! Ges. And what of that? What matter whether to or from the sun? Tell. I’d have it at my back—the sun should shine Upon the mark, and not on him that shoots. I cannot see to shoot against the sun; Ges. Give him his way. Thou hast cause to bless my mercy. Tell. I shall remember it. I’d like to see The apple I’m to shoot at. Ges. Stay! show me the basket—there— Tell. You’ve picked the smallest one. Ges. I know I have. Tell. Oh! do you? But you see The color on’t is dark.—I’d have it light, To see it better. Ges. Take it as it is; Thy skill will be the greater if thou hit’st it. Tell. True—true! I did not think of that—I wonder I did not think of that. Give me some chance To save my boy! (Throws away the apple.) I will not murder him, If I can help it—for the honor of The form thou wearest, if all the heart is gone. Ges. Well, choose thyself. Tell. Have I a friend among the lookers-on? Verner. (Rushing forward.) Here, Tell! Tell. I thank thee, Verner! He is a friend runs out into a storm When once the bow is bent, we cannot take The shot too soon. Verner, whatever be The issue of this hour, the common cause Must not stand still. Let not to-morrow’s sun Set on the tyrant’s banner! Verner! Verner! The boy! the boy! Thinkest thou he hath the courage To stand it? Ver. Yes. Tell. How looks he? Ver. Clear and smilingly; If you doubt it, look yourself. Tell. No—no—my friend; To hear it is enough. Ver. He bears himself so much above his years. Tell. I know! I know! Ver. With constancy so modest— Tell. I was sure he would. Ver. And looks with such relying love And reverence upon you. Tell. Man! man! man! No more. Already I’m too much the father To act the man. Verner, no more, my friend. I would be flint—flint—flint. Don’t make me feel I’m not. Do not mind me. Take the boy Set him upon his knees—and place this apple Upon his head, so that the stem may front me,— Thus, Verner; charge him to keep steady—tell him I’ll hit the apple. Verner, do all this More briefly than I tell it thee. Ver. Come, Albert. (Leading him out.) Alb. May I not speak with him before I go? Ver. You must not. Alb. I must! I cannot go from him without. Ver. It is his will you should. Alb. His will, is it? I am content, then—come. Tell. My boy! (Holding out his arms to him.) Alb. My father! (Rushing into Tell’s arms.) Tell. If thou canst bear it, should not I? Go, now, My son—and keep in mind that I can shoot— Go, boy—be thou but steady, I will hit The apple. Go! God bless thee—go. My bow!— (The bow is handed to him.) Thou wilt not fail thy master, wilt thou? Thou Hast never failed him yet, old servant. No, I’m sure of thee. I know thy honesty. Thou art stanch—stanch. Let me see my quiver. Ges. Give him a single arrow. Sol. I do. Tell. Is it so you pick an arrow, friend? The point, you see, is bent; the feather jagged. (Breaks it.) That’s all the use ’tis fit for. Ges. Let him have another. Tell. Why, ’tis better than the first, But yet not good enough for such an aim As I’m to take—’tis heavy in the shaft; I’ll not shoot with it! (Throws it away.) Let me see my quiver. Bring it! ’Tis not one arrow in a dozen I’d take to shoot with at a dove, much less A dove like that. Ges. It matters not. Show him the quiver. Tell. See if the boy is ready. (Tell here hides an arrow under his vest.) Ver. He is. Tell. I’m ready, too! Keep silent for Heaven’s sake and do not stir—and let me have Your prayers—your prayers—and be my witnesses That if his life’s in peril from my hand, ’Tis only for the chance of saving it. (To the people.) Ges. Go on. O friends, for mercy’s sake, keep motionless And silent. (Tell shoots; a shout of exultation bursts from the crowd. Tell’s head drops on his bosom; he with difficulty supports himself upon his bow.) Ver. (Rushing in with Albert.) Thy boy is safe, no hair of him is touched. Alb. Father, I’m safe! Your Albert’s safe, dear father,— Speak to me! Speak to me! Ver. He cannot, boy. Alb. You grant him life? Ges. I do. Alb. And we are free? Ges. You are. (Crossing angrily behind.) Ver. Open his vest And give him air. (Albert opens his father’s vest, and the arrow drops. Tell starts, fixes his eye upon Albert, and clasps him to his breast.) Tell. My boy! my boy! Ges. For what Hid you that arrow in your breast? Speak, slave! Tell. To kill thee, tyrant, had I slain my boy! —Sheridan Knowles. |
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