In a picturesque little châlet high up in the mountains, covered with
snow and edelweiss (which is a flower that grows in the Alps, and you
are not allowed to pick it), dwelt William Tell, his wife Hedwig, and
his two sons, Walter and William. Such a remarkable man was Tell that I
think I must devote a whole chapter to him and his exploits. There was
really nothing he could not do. He was the best shot with the cross-bow
in the whole of Switzerland. He had the courage of a lion, the
sure-footedness of a wild goat, the agility of a squirrel, and a
beautiful beard. If you wanted someone to hurry across desolate
ice-fields, and leap from crag to crag after a chamois, Tell was the
man for your money. If you wanted a man to say rude things to the
Governor, it was to Tell that you applied first. Once when he was
hunting in the wild ravine of Schächenthal, where men were hardly
ever to be seen, he met the Governor face to face. There was no way
of getting past. On one side the rocky wall rose sheer up, while below
the river roared. Directly Gessler caught sight of Tell striding along
with his cross-bow, his cheeks grew pale and his knees tottered, and he
sat down on a rock feeling very unwell indeed.
"Aha!" said Tell. "Oho! so it's you, is it? _I_ know you. And a
nice sort of person you are, with your taxes on bread and sheep, aren't
you! You'll come to a bad end one of these days, that's what will
happen to you. Oh, you old reprobate! Pooh!" And he had passed on with
a look of scorn, leaving Gessler to think over what he had said. And
Gessler ever since had had a grudge against him, and was only waiting
for a chance of paying him out.
"Mark my words," said Tell's wife, Hedwig, when her husband told her
about it after supper that night--"mark my words, he will never
forgive you."
"I will avoid him," said Tell. "He will not seek me."
"Well, mind you do," was Hedwig's reply.
On another occasion, when the Governor's soldiers were chasing a friend
of his, called Baumgarten, and when Baumgarten's only chance of escape
was to cross the lake during a fierce storm, and when the ferryman,
sensibly remarking, "What! must I rush into the jaws of death? No man
that hath his senses would do that!" refused to take out his boat even
for twice his proper fare, and when the soldiers rode down to seize
their prey with dreadful shouts, Tell jumped into the boat, and, rowing
with all his might, brought his friend safe across after a choppy
passage. Which made Gessler the Governor still more angry with him.
But it was as a marksman that Tell was so extraordinary. There was
nobody in the whole of the land who was half so skilful. He attended
every meeting for miles around where there was a shooting competition,
and every time he won first prize. Even his rivals could not help
praising his skill. "Behold!" they would say, "Tell is quite the
pot-hunter," meaning by the last word a man who always went in for
every prize, and always won it. And Tell would say, "Yes, truly am I
a pot-hunter, for I hunt to fill the family pot." And so he did. He never
came home empty-handed from the chase. Sometimes it was a chamois that
he brought back, and then the family had it roasted on the first day,
cold on the next four, and minced on the sixth, with sippets of toast
round the edge of the dish. Sometimes it was only a bird (as on the
cover of this book), and then Hedwig would say, "Mark my words, this
fowl will not go round." But it always did, and it never happened that
there was not even a fowl to eat.
[Illustration: Frontispiece]
In fact, Tell and his family lived a very happy, contented life, in
spite of the Governor Gessler and his taxes.
Tell was very patriotic. He always believed that some day the Swiss
would rise and rebel against the tyranny of the Governor, and he used
to drill his two children so as to keep them always in a state of
preparation. They would march about, beating tin cans and shouting, and
altogether enjoying themselves immensely, though Hedwig, who did not
like noise, and wanted Walter and William to help her with the
housework, made frequent complaints. "Mark my words," she would say,
"this growing spirit of militarism in the young and foolish will lead
to no good," meaning that boys who played at soldiers instead of
helping their mother to dust the chairs and scrub the kitchen floor
would in all probability come to a bad end. But Tell would say, "Who
hopes to fight his way through life must be prepared to wield arms.
Carry on, my boys!" And they carried on. It was to this man that the
Swiss people had determined to come for help.
[Illustration: PLATE II]