In the meantime a very remarkable event had happened at the town of Altorf in Uri. Gessler had placed a hat on a pole in the market-place, with strict orders that passers-by should do it reverence, for he wished to test their obedience. William Tell scorned this piece of over-bearing tyranny, and proudly marched past without making obeisance to the hat. He was seized, and Gessler riding up, demanded why he had disobeyed the order. "From thoughtlessness," he replied, "for if I were witty my name were not Tell." The governor, in a fury, ordered Tell to shoot an apple from the head of his son, for Gessler knew Tell to be a most skilful archer, and, moreover, to have fine children. Tell's entreaties that some other form of punishment should be substituted, for this were of no avail. Pierced to the heart the archer took two arrows, and, placing one in his quiver, took aim with the other, and cleft the apple. Foiled in his design, Gessler inquired the meaning of the second arrow. Tell hesitated, but on being assured that his life would be spared, instantly replied, "Had I injured my child, this second shaft should not have missed thy heart." "Good!" exclaimed the enraged governor, "I have promised thee thy life, but I will throw thee into a dungeon where neither sun nor moon shall shine on thee." Tell was chained, and placed in a barge, his bow and arrow being put at his back. As they rowed towards Axenstein, suddenly their arose a fearful storm, and the crew fearing they would be lost, suggested that Tell, an expert boatman, should save them. Gessler had him unbound, and he steered towards Axenberg, where there was a natural landing-stage formed by a flat rock—Tellenplatte. Seizing his bow and arrows he flung the boat against the rock, and leapt ashore, leaving its occupants to their fate. Woe betide him, however, should the governor escape death on the lake! Tell hurried on to Schwyz, and thence to the "hollow way" near Kusnach, through which Gessler must come if he returned to his castle. Hiding in the thicket lining the road, Tell waited, and presently seeing the tyrant riding past, took aim, and shot him through the heart. Gessler's last words were, "This is Tell's shaft."

Thus runs the old story. The question naturally arises, What of all this is truth, and what fiction? just as it will in the case of Winkelried and others. The question is easier to ask than to answer, at least in the very limited space at our disposal. The truth is, this question has been for half a century the subject of controversy always lively, often passionate and violent. Some authorities are for making a clean sweep of all traditional annals, and all semi-mythical national heroes. Others, no less able and conscientious, and no less learned, have re-admitted tradition to investigation, and have made it their special care to pick out the historical grain from the chaff of fiction. It is impossible within the limits of our space to discuss the merits of the numerous chronicles, and popular songs and plays, in which the traditions of the Tell period are preserved. Suffice it to say, that the "White Book of Sarnen" (1470), naïve and artless as is its tone, is the most trustworthy; that of the "Swiss Herodotus," the patriotic Tschudi (1570), the most fascinating and most skilfully penned. The work of the latter is mainly a series of gleanings from the "White Book," together with additional pictures from Tschudi's own pencil. He combined and supplied dates and minor details, and cast the whole in a mould apparently so historical that it became an authority for Joh von Müller, the great Swiss historian of the eighteenth century. And the immortal Schiller deeply stirred by the grand epic, produced his magnificent drama, "William Tell."

It hardly needs to be said in these days that whilst no one thinks of taking these beautiful old-world stories literally, yet few of us would care to toss them contemptuously and entirely on one side. Truly they have a meaning, if not exactly that which was once accepted. In the present instance they represent and illustrate a long epoch during which a high-spirited people were engaged in establishing a confederation, and maintaining it against a powerful enemy—one long effort to secure emancipation from Habsburg tyranny—an epoch which opened with the acquisition of a charter of liberties for Uri in 1231, and closed with the brilliant victory of Morgarten in 1315.

It remains now to show briefly what may be considered the authentic history of the period, that is, the history as found in authentic documents.

And first, it is clearly absurd to suppose that the three Forest Cantons sprang suddenly into existence as democracies. Feudalism had spread its net over the Waldstätten as elsewhere in Switzerland and Europe generally. But the inborn love of freedom amongst the "freemen" of the three cantons was intensified by two things, the secluded Alpine life and the tyranny and aggressiveness of the Habsburgs. The inhabitants of the Forest were Alamanni, who, in the seventh century, had moved into the higher Alpine regions, the immigration into those regions being greatly promoted by a decree of Charlemagne, that whoever should cultivate land there with his own hands should be the owner thereof. But besides these farmer freemen, land was taken up by religious-houses, and by the secular grandees, who claimed the soil cultivated by their serfs, bondsmen, and dependants of all kinds. By the bounty of Louis the German, the "Gotteshausleute" (God's-house-people), had become of great importance in Uri; in 853 that monarch had bestowed his royal lands in Uri, with everything appertaining thereto, on the Abbey of our Lady at Zurich, an abbey founded for his daughters. Beneath the mild rule of these royal ladies the inhabitants had acquired great independence, and had shared with their mistress the high privilege of the "Reichsfreiheit," which saved their lands from being mortgaged, or from falling under the power of vassal princes. Besides the Lady Abbess, there were other proprietors in Uri—the Maison Dieu of Wettingen, the barons of Rapperswyl, and other high-born or noble families, and, lastly, a body of "freemen."

This scattered and various society was knit into one close boundary-association by the possession of the "Almend," a stretch of land common to all, according to the old German custom—to free and unfree, rich and poor, noble and serf, who were brought together in council for deliberation. These assemblies gave rise to the political gatherings of the "Landsgemeinde."

Now by a decree of the Emperor Frederick II., Uri was severed from the jurisdiction of Zurich Abbey in 1218, and placed under the control of Habsburg, who had succeeded to the governorship of Zurichgau, a district which then included the three Forest states. "Reichsfreiheit" was lost, and the inhabitants, fearing their state would fall into the hands of the Habsburgs, applied for protection from Henry, son of Frederick II., then at variance with the Habsburg family. He complied with their request, and on the 26th of May, 1231, granted them a charter of liberties, restored "Reichsfreiheit," and received them into the pale of the empire. Uri was now under the direct control of the monarch, and the local authority was vested in an Ammann chosen from the native families. An imperial representative appeared twice a year in the country to hold his half-yearly sessions, and to collect the imperial taxes. When Rudolf of Habsburg rose to the imperial throne, he recognized fully the validity of the Uri charter. However a charter was but little check on the monarchical tyranny, and we find the country exasperated by Rudolf's grinding taxation.

The inhabitants of Schwyz were no less bold, resolute, and energetic, than those of Uri, and no less averse to falling into the hands of the Habsburgs. Here the freemen predominated, and owned the largest portion of the country. There is not space to tell of their long quarrel with the monks of Einsiedeln respecting some forest lands. Suffice it to say that, after a stout stand for their rights, they were ordered to share the corpus delicti, the forest, with their opponents. During the quarrels between Rome and the Hohenstaufen, Schwyz staunchly upheld the cause of Frederick II., but the wavering policy of Rudolf of the junior line, Habsburg-Laufenburg, was a strong temptation to separate themselves from him (1239). They sent letters, messengers, and most likely auxiliaries, to Frederick, when he was besieging Faënza with the view of recovering the Lombard cities, and begged for the protection of the empire. Frederick expressed his gratification that the freemen of Schwyz should voluntarily place themselves under his protection, and sent them a charter similar to that of Uri (1240)—to "his faithful men"—by which they obtained the "Reichsfreiheit," and an assurance that they should not be severed from the empire.

A very few years later we hear of the first federal union of which we have any certain knowledge. The great quarrel between the emperor and the Pope, and the flight of the latter to Lyons, had set Europe on fire. Schwyz took up arms to defend the founder of its liberties, and entered into an alliance with Uri and Unterwalden—and even Lucerne—to throw off the yoke of the younger Habsburg line. War raged fiercely in the valleys of the Forest and by Lake Lucerne, till the Popish party was brought to bay, and the overseer driven from the Habsburg castle. We do not know the result of this insurrection; it closed no doubt with the death of Rudolf and Frederick in 1249-50.

It is to this period of the insurrection doubtless that the stories of Tell, the oath on the Rütli, &c., apply most clearly. They are reminiscences probably of some forgotten episodes of the campaigns. Had the annalists connected the stories with these times instead of with the reign of Albrecht, their validity could hardly have been contested.