A 19th Century lithograph gives the William Tell legend the full Romantic treatement. |
On
November 18, 1307 Wilhelm Tell, who may or may not have existed, allegedly shot an apple off of the head of his
trembling son with his trusty crossbow
on the orders of a tyrannical local Austrian official or Bailiff
who may, or may not, have existed.
Subsequently Tell may, or may not, have assassinated the villain and led
a rebellion that led to the creation of the Old Swiss Confederacy. Or so
the story goes.
Known
to the English speaking world as William Tell and Napoleonic Era European romantics as Guillaume Tell, he became a heroic
symbol of Swiss independence, revolutionary resistance to oppression and tyranny, and a blank page
various political ideologies claimed for
their own. Americans know him mostly as a
motif in countless comedy sketches going back to vaudeville and animated
cartoons, built around gags of the boy and the apple stripped of any context.
They also may remember the Overture
of an opera by Gioachino Rossini became the theme song for another mythical hero—The Lone Ranger.
Most
modern scholars believe Tell is a mythical figure, analogous to the English Robin Hood. They can find no evidence her or his son ever existed or that Albrecht (sometimes Herman) Gessler ever oppressed the people
of Altdorf in the Canton of Uri. The Swiss tend not to take kindly to these scholars
and have been known to burn them in
effigy in the streets. Some Swiss
scholars still make a living producing
tomes that make historical claims
for the truth of at least a nugget
of the folk tale. And like Englishmen love and believe in a
rebellious Saxon noble, the Swiss,
no matter which of four languages
they speak, swear by the reality of William Tell.
Here
is the story in its most familiar form.
Gessler
arrived in Altdorf to assume his duties as Landvogt, a local tax collector/enforcer for an Austrian feudal prince—very analogous to the authority of the Sheriff of Nottingham in the Robin Hood tales—already drunk with his new power. He erected a pole in the market place and demanded that the locals bow down to his hat
which he perched on it. He stationed troops to enforce the order
and often sat watching the locals grovel
in fear. Enter Tell and his ten year
old son Walter. Tell was by all accounts a large and powerful man—a hunter, mountain climber,
and boatman in early accounts was a local
gentleman of wide repute and respect and
in later accounts a rustic peasant leader. He happens to be carrying his crossbow.
One of the earliest graphic depictions--a woodcut illustration from Ein Schönes Spiel…von Wilhelm Tell. |
Tell
haughtily refuses to bow down to a
hat and is seized by Gessler’s
troops. The cruel tyrant has already
filled the jails and local dungeons and had recently blinded an elderly man for some trivial
or imagined offence. Gessler, aware of Tell’s reputation with his weapon, offers his prisoner a choice—immediate death or a reprieve
if he can shoot an apple off of the head of his son’s head at several paces with a single shot.
Tell
comforts his son and then with unerring calm splits the apple with a bolt from his crossbow. Gessler notices that Tell had a second bolt. He demands to know what he intended to do
with it. Tell demurs until he is assured
that no matter his answer his pardon
would be honored. Then he tells
Gessler that the second bolt was meant
to kill him should the first have gone astray and wounded the boy. Infuriated Gessler has Tell and his son seized.
The
Tells are put on a boat to transport them across Lake Lucerne to Küssnacht to a dungeon
in Gessler’s new castle. But a terrible
storm erupts and the boat is nearly
lost. The oarsmen, in fear for their
lives, unbind the powerful Tell
who take the rudder and brings the
boat to shore—where he leaps to safety
on a rocky point now known as Tellsplatte. He also somehow still has his famous crossbow
and that second bolt.
An American take on the embellished legend--William Tell Escapes the Tyrant by Nathaniel Currier. |
He
runs cross country to Küssnacht where he lays in wait at a narrow
point in the route he knows Gessler must take from Altdorf. There from hiding he ambushes the official, assassinating
Gessler with a single shot.
Escaping into the mountains Tell joins existing bands of rebels and/or raises a guerilla army to rise up against the Austrians. The successful
revolt that follows unites most
of the Swiss Cantons into the Old Confederacy and thus begins the history of the Swiss as a nation.
Tell
was said to have died heroically 40
years later as an old man w/hen he tried to rescue a child from a raging river.
None
of this is corroborated in contemporary
annals.
The
first mention of Tell in relationship to the rebellion seems to be in the White
Book of Sarnen by a country scribe
named Hans Schreiber in
1475. Shortly thereafter a song called
the Tellenlied
began to be sung. Its first appearance
in a manuscript was in 1501 although
it was clearly already widely sung. In
neither of these accounts is Gessler named or is there mention of his
assassination. The Tellenlied calls Tell the “First
Confederate.”
The
first printed version of the story appeared in 1507 in Chronicle of the Swiss
Confederation by Petermann
Etterlin, a soldier/scholar who wrote in German but supported the French factions ruling Lucerne. Around 1570 Aegidius Tschudi from Glarus
compiled his monumental Chronicon Helveticum which in turn
was the main source for Johannes von Müller’s History
of the Swiss Confederation in 1780—written under the ideological influence of rising French radicalism—and for Friedrich
Schiller’s play William Tell in1804.
In
each of these versions the story of
Tell becomes more elaborate with
details filled in, names and dates supplied and a mantel of historical verisimilitude draped around it. The story also adapts to more modern political developments—There really was a
Gessler family, for instance, that administered a fiefdom of a Hapsburg prince
around Zurich in the late 14th Century. He became a stand-in for imperial
Austrian designs on Switzerland three hundred years later.
Tell
inspired The Three Tells—heroes of
the 1653 Swiss Peasants’ War who
dressed as Tell attempted to assassinate
Ulrich Dullike, Schultheiss (Mayor) of
Lucerne for the Hapsburgs in 1653. In
the writings of early 19th Century Romantics they became similar to certain Nordic myths and King Arthur in English folklore, sleeping
under the mountains and waiting to be resurrected
and come to the salvation of the
nation in a time of peril.
Napoleon's pupet Helvetic Republic sought legitimacy by draping itself in the mantle of Williiam Tell as an anti-Austrian patriot. The short lived Republic incorporated Tell into its official seal. |
During
the French Revolution Tell was adopted as a model for rebellion against authority. He was re-cast
as a peasant leader and his role as
a revolutionary elevated over earlier versions which emphasized his individual defiance.
In the Napoleonic Era Gessler
becomes a tool of an unseen—and not even historically accurate—Austrian Emperor. In the
post-Napoleonic era Tell becomes the symbol to resistance against all oppression—including that inflicted in the false hope that Bonaparte
would be a liberating force in Europe.
When
Napoleon invaded western Switzerland
and imposed the Helvetic Republic in
1798, the new central government
sought legitimacy by making Tell and
his son the central device in their official seal. When the Republic was overthrown in 1803 and the Confederacy
of Cantons restored in the period known in Swiss history as the Restoration, Tell became a symbol for
resistance to all foreign meddling
in Swiss affairs. This is the Tell of Schiller’s
play and Rossini’s opera.
Since
then he has been schizophrenic—simultaneously
hailed as a hero of left populism and
of right-wing Swiss nationalism. He has been cited as the inspiration for Guy Fawkes and the Gunpowder
Plotters in England in 1604, along with Brutus by John Wilkes Booth for
his assassination of Abraham Lincoln,
and by late 19th Century by anarchist assassins
and attempted assassins of European rulers.
Adolph Hitler in Mein
Kampf praised Tell as the prototype
of a Germanic hero and man of
action. He sang a different song
after young Swiss Francophone patriot
Maurice Bavaud—dubbed the “New William Tell”
by his admirers—attempted to assassinate him in 1938. He subsequently banned all performances of both Schiller’s play and the Rossini
opera. At a banquet in 1942 he complained, “Why did Schiller have to immortalize that Swiss sniper!”
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