In the historico-critical treatise of Julius Ludwig Ideler (Berlin 1836), the author says that there exists no record of incontestable authenticity referring to the romantic incident of Tell’s life. The chapel near Flüelen, on the borders of the lake, was only constructed in 1388: the chapel at Burglen, on the spot where Tell’s house formerly stood, dates back to the same time, and there is no written document to prove that they were built to commemorate any share taken by Tell in the emancipation of Switzerland.
The stone fountain at Altdorf[30] which bore the name of Tell, and above which was seen the statue of Tell, and of his son with an apple placed upon his head, was only constructed in 1786, when the tradition had already been singularly shaken by critical researches.
Ideler adds, that Tell’s lime-tree in the centre of the market place at Altdorf (Tellenlinde), and his crossbow preserved in the arsenal at Zürich, are not more valid proofs than the pieces of the true cross which are exhibited in a thousand places, or the handkerchief of St. Veronica, that is said to be the real original.
A critic whom it is also important to read on this question, is Hisely, in his investigations into the sources whence the Swiss writers have drawn the history of William Tell. He explains at length the reasons that make him consider the absolute silence of Jean de Winterthür and of Conrad Justinger as an inexplicable enigma.
Hisely has pursued his researches without being prejudiced for or against the popular faith, but the result tends to show how little foundation there is for the story.
In conclusion we will cite the legends analogous to the circumstance of the apple shot in twain by William Tell.
ENDRIDE PANSA, OR THE SPLAY-FOOTED.
(A LEGEND OF THE 10TH CENTURY.)
The king of Norway went to pay a visit to Endride, a young pagan whom he wished to convert to Christianity. After they had drank together, and before setting out for the chase, the king said to Endride: “I wish to see which of us two is the best marksman.” “I consent,” said Endride. They entered a neighbouring forest. The king took off his cloak, fixed a long piece of wood in the ground at a considerable distance, which was to serve as a mark to the two archers. He then bent his bow and aimed so accurately that the arrow hit the top of the wood and remained fixed in it. All the spectators were in admiration at the dexterity of the king. Endride at first asked to be excused from shooting; but the king refused, and Endride, being forced to obey, shot, and planted his arrow in that of the king, so that they were embedded the one in the other. The king, evidently piqued, said to Endride: “In truth thy skill is remarkable, but this trial is not decisive. Let thy sister’s son be brought, on whom thou hast once said all thy affections are concentrated. Let him serve as a mark for us, and let one of the chessmen be placed upon the head of the child.” The boy was brought and fastened to a stake. “We are going,” said the king to his rival, “to bring down this chessman from the head of the child without hurting him.” “Make the trial, if such is your good pleasure,” replied Endride; “but if you touch the boy, I will avenge him.”
The king ordered the eyes of the child to be bandaged, made the sign of the cross, and blessed the point of the arrow before shooting. The countenance of Endride became flushed with emotion. The dart flew, and the historian Thormod Torfæus, who recites the fact, adds that Olaf shot off the chessman without doing the least injury to the child.