On
November 18, 1307 Wilhelm Tell, who may
or may not have existed, allegedly shot an apple off the head off
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 that he 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 marketplace 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 happened to be carrying
his crossbow.
Tell
haughtily refused to bow down to a
hat and was seized by Gessler’s
troops. The cruel tyrant had 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, offered 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
comforted his son and then with unerring
calm split the apple with a bolt from
his crossbow. Gessler noticed that Tell
had a second bolt. He demanded to know what he intended to do
with it. Tell demurred until he was assured that no matter his answer his pardon would be honored. Then he told
Gessler that the second bolt was meant to kill him should the first have
gone astray and wounded the boy.
Infuriated Gessler had Tell and his son seized.
The Tells
were put on a boat to transport them across Lake Lucerne to Küssnacht to a dungeon
in Gessler’s new castle. But a terrible storm erupted, and the boat was nearly lost. The oarsmen,
in fear for their lives, unbound the powerful Tell who took the rudder and brought the boat to shore—where
he leapt to safety on a rocky point now known as Tellsplatte. He also somehow still had his famous crossbow
and that second bolt.
He ran
cross country to Küssnacht where
he laid in wait at a narrow point in the route he knew
Gessler must take from Altdorf. There
from hiding he ambushed the official,
assassinating Gessler with a single shot.
Escaping into the mountains
Tell joined existing bands of
rebels and/or raised a guerilla army to rise up against the Austrians.
The successful revolt that
followed united most of the Swiss Cantons into the Old Confederacy and thus began the history of the Swiss as a
nation.
Tell
was said to have died heroically 40 years later as an old man when 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 was a song called the Tellenlied first appeared
in a manuscript in 1501 although it
was clearly already widely sung. In
neither of these accounts was Gessler named or is there mention of his
assassination. The Tellenlied called 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 inspiration
for Friedrich Schiller’s
play William
Tell in1804.
In
each of these versions the story of
Tell became more elaborate with
details filled in, names and dates supplied, and a mantel of historical
verisimilitude draped around it. The
story also adapted to more modern political developments—there really
was a Gessler family, for instance, which 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.
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 became a tool of an unseen—and not even historically
accurate—Austrian Emperor. In the
post-Napoleonic era Tell became the symbol of 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 as played by John Wilkes Booth for his assassination of Abraham Lincoln, and by late 19th
Century 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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