In literature a drama genre deserves your attention. Dramas are usually called plays. Every person is made up of two parts: good and evil. Due to life circumstances, the human reveals one or another side of his nature. In drama we can see the full range of emotions : it can be love, jealousy, hatred, fear, etc. The best drama books are full of dialogue. This type of drama is one of the oldest forms of storytelling and has existed almost since the beginning of humanity. Drama genre - these are events that involve a lot of people. People most often suffer in this genre, because they are selfish. People always think to themselves first, they want have a benefit.Wilhelm Tell by Friedrich Schiller (classic books for 11 year olds .txt) 📖
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did we learn To bend the crossbow - wield the battle-axe? What living creature, but in its despair, Finds for itself a weapon of defence? The baited stag will turn, and with the show Of his dread antlers hold the hounds at bay; The chamois drags the huntsman down the abyss; The very ox, the partner of man's toil, The sharer of his roof, that meekly bends The strength of his huge neck beneath the yoke, Springs up, if he's provoked, whets his strong horn, And tosses his tormenter to the clouds.
FURST. If the three Cantons thought as we three do, Something might, then, be done, with good effect.
STAUFFACHER. When Uri calls, when Unterwald replies, Schwytz will be mindful of her ancient league. [8]
MELCHTHAL. I've many friends in Unterwald, and none That would not gladly venture life and limb If fairly backed and aided by the rest. Oh, sage and reverend fathers of this land, Here do I stand before your riper years, An unskilled youth whose voice must in the Diet Still be subdued into respectful silence. Do not, because 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 even 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 unassailed, and still your eyes Revolve undimmed and sparkling in their spheres; Oh, do not, therefore, disregard our wrongs! Above you, too, doth hang 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 FURST). Do then resolve! I am prepared to follow.
FURST. First let us learn what steps the noble lords Von Sillinen and Attinghaus propose. Their names would rally thousands in the cause.
MELCHTHAL. Is there a name within the Forest Mountains That carries more respect than thine - and thine? To names like these the people cling for help With confidence - such names are household words. Rich was your heritage of manly virtue, And richly have you added to its stores. What need of nobles? Let us do the work Ourselves. Although we stood alone, methinks We should be able to maintain our rights.
STAUFFACHER. 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.
FURST. 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?
MELCHTHAL. Thither send me. Whom should it more concern?
FURST. No, Melchthal, no; thou art my guest, and I Must answer for thy safety.
MELCHTHAL.
Let me go. I know each forest track and mountain pass; Friends too I'll find, be sure, on every hand, To give me willing shelter from the foe.
STAUFFACHER. Nay, let him go; no traitors harbor there: For tyranny is so abhorred in Unterwald No minions can be found to work her will. In the low valleys, too, the Alzeller Will gain confederates and rouse the country.
MELCHTHAL. But how shall we communicate, and not Awaken the suspicion of the tyrants?
STAUFFACHER. Might we not meet at Brunnen or at Treib, Hard by the spot where merchant-vessels land?
FURST. 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 boundaries 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 our onward course.
STAUFFACHER. 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.
FURST and MELCHTHAL. In life and death.
[They hold their hands clasped together for some moments in silence.
MELCHTHAL.
Alas, my old blind father! Thou canst no more behold the day of freedom; 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 darkened 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 mountains. 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!
ATTINGHAUSEN. 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 then 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). Alas, thou art indeed! Alas, that home To thee has grown so strange! Oh, Uly! Uly! I scarce do know thee now, thus decked in silks, The peacock's feather [9] flaunting in thy cap, And purple mantle round thy shoulders flung; Thou lookest upon the peasant with disdain, And takest with a blush his honest greeting.
RUDENZ. All honor due to him I gladly pay, But must deny the right he would usurp.
ATTINGHAUSEN. The sore displeasure of the king is resting Upon the 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 takest 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 oppressed; I know it, uncle. But why? Who plunged it into this distress? A word, one little easy word, might buy Instant deliverance from such dire oppression, 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; [10] They'll have the Caesar for their lord, forsooth, That is to say, they'll have no lord at all.
ATTINGHAUSEN. 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 stooped To fill contentedly through life? Have you No higher pride, than in these lonely wilds To be the Landamman or Banneret, [11] 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?
ATTINGHAUSEN. Ah, Uly, Uly; all too well I see, The tempter's voice has caught thy willing ear, And poured 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 Hapsburg'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 Deeds are achieved. 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.
ATTINGHAUSEN. 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 thou wilt drink its tones in sadness, 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
FURST. If the three Cantons thought as we three do, Something might, then, be done, with good effect.
STAUFFACHER. When Uri calls, when Unterwald replies, Schwytz will be mindful of her ancient league. [8]
MELCHTHAL. I've many friends in Unterwald, and none That would not gladly venture life and limb If fairly backed and aided by the rest. Oh, sage and reverend fathers of this land, Here do I stand before your riper years, An unskilled youth whose voice must in the Diet Still be subdued into respectful silence. Do not, because 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 even 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 unassailed, and still your eyes Revolve undimmed and sparkling in their spheres; Oh, do not, therefore, disregard our wrongs! Above you, too, doth hang 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 FURST). Do then resolve! I am prepared to follow.
FURST. First let us learn what steps the noble lords Von Sillinen and Attinghaus propose. Their names would rally thousands in the cause.
MELCHTHAL. Is there a name within the Forest Mountains That carries more respect than thine - and thine? To names like these the people cling for help With confidence - such names are household words. Rich was your heritage of manly virtue, And richly have you added to its stores. What need of nobles? Let us do the work Ourselves. Although we stood alone, methinks We should be able to maintain our rights.
STAUFFACHER. 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.
FURST. 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?
MELCHTHAL. Thither send me. Whom should it more concern?
FURST. No, Melchthal, no; thou art my guest, and I Must answer for thy safety.
MELCHTHAL.
Let me go. I know each forest track and mountain pass; Friends too I'll find, be sure, on every hand, To give me willing shelter from the foe.
STAUFFACHER. Nay, let him go; no traitors harbor there: For tyranny is so abhorred in Unterwald No minions can be found to work her will. In the low valleys, too, the Alzeller Will gain confederates and rouse the country.
MELCHTHAL. But how shall we communicate, and not Awaken the suspicion of the tyrants?
STAUFFACHER. Might we not meet at Brunnen or at Treib, Hard by the spot where merchant-vessels land?
FURST. 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 boundaries 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 our onward course.
STAUFFACHER. 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.
FURST and MELCHTHAL. In life and death.
[They hold their hands clasped together for some moments in silence.
MELCHTHAL.
Alas, my old blind father! Thou canst no more behold the day of freedom; 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 darkened 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 mountains. 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!
ATTINGHAUSEN. 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 then 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). Alas, thou art indeed! Alas, that home To thee has grown so strange! Oh, Uly! Uly! I scarce do know thee now, thus decked in silks, The peacock's feather [9] flaunting in thy cap, And purple mantle round thy shoulders flung; Thou lookest upon the peasant with disdain, And takest with a blush his honest greeting.
RUDENZ. All honor due to him I gladly pay, But must deny the right he would usurp.
ATTINGHAUSEN. The sore displeasure of the king is resting Upon the 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 takest 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 oppressed; I know it, uncle. But why? Who plunged it into this distress? A word, one little easy word, might buy Instant deliverance from such dire oppression, 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; [10] They'll have the Caesar for their lord, forsooth, That is to say, they'll have no lord at all.
ATTINGHAUSEN. 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 stooped To fill contentedly through life? Have you No higher pride, than in these lonely wilds To be the Landamman or Banneret, [11] 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?
ATTINGHAUSEN. Ah, Uly, Uly; all too well I see, The tempter's voice has caught thy willing ear, And poured 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 Hapsburg'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 Deeds are achieved. 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.
ATTINGHAUSEN. 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 thou wilt drink its tones in sadness, 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
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