URROUNDED by some of the most powerful nations of Europe, Switzerland, a comparatively small country, has for ages maintained a singular degree of freedom and independence, and been distinguished for the civil liberty which its people generally enjoy. For these enviable distinctions, it is allowed to have been greatly indebted to its physical character. Composed of ranges of lofty mountains, extensive lakes, almost inapproachable valleys, craggy steeps and passes, which may be easily defended, it has afforded a ready retreat against oppression, and its inhabitants have at various times defeated the largest armies brought by neighbouring powers for their subjugation. How this intrepid people originally gained their liberty, forms an exceedingly interesting page in European history.

About six hundred years ago, a large portion of Switzerland belonged to the German empire; but this was little more than a nominal subjection to a supreme authority. Socially, it consisted of districts which were for the greater part the hereditary possessions of dukes, counts, and other nobles, who viewed the people on their properties as little better than serfs, and made free with their lives, their industry, and their chattels. In some instances, certain cities had formed alliances for mutual protection against the rapacity of these persons, and demolished many castles from which they exercised their oppression upon the peaceful husbandmen and merchants.

Things were in this state, when, in 1273, Rodolphe of Hapsburg, one of the most powerful of the noble proprietors, was

chosen Emperor of Germany, an event which added greatly to his means of oppressing his Swiss vassals. Rodolphe, however, was a humane master, and did not abuse his power. Albert, his son, who succeeded to the imperial dynasty in 1298, was a person of a different character. He was a grasping prince, eager to extend his family possessions, and, by a most unjustifiable stretch of ambition, wished to unite certain free Swiss towns, with their surrounding districts, called the Waldstatte, or Forest-towns, with his hereditary estates, proposing to them at the same time to renounce their connexion with the German empire, and to submit themselves to him as Duke of Austria. They rejected his advances, and hence commenced the first of the memorable struggles for civil liberty in Switzerland.

Proud of his great rank, uniting, as he did, in his own person the dignities of the house of Austria and the imperial throne, Albert was indignant at the refusal by which his propositions were followed, and forthwith resolved to hold no measured terms with what he deemed a set of rude peasants. His first impulse was to decide the question by the sword; but the result of any sudden attack was doubtful, and he finally resolved to proceed cautiously in his movements. Disguising his intentions, therefore, he confined himself, in the first instance, to introducing as governor Hermann Gessler of Brunegg, along with small parties of Austrian soldiers, after which his design of subjugating the district became too manifest to its unhappy inhabitants.

Once firmly established, Gessler, who was a fit instrument for the purposes of a tyrant, assumed an insolent bearing, and scrupled not to commit the most severe acts of oppression. The seat of his assumed authority was at Altorf, a small town near the head of the lake of Lucerne, on which the Waldstatte bordered, and surrounded by some of the most romantic scenery in Switzerland. Every great crisis in national disasters brings forth its great man; as Scotland, under the oppression of the Edwards, produced its William Wallace; as America its Washington, when its liberty was threatened; so did a part of Switzerland, under the vice-regal domination of Gessler, produce its WILLIAM TELL. Not much is really known of this patriot, but the little that has been wafted by history and tradition to our times is interesting, and possesses all the charm of poetry and romance. William Tell, according to the best accounts, was born at Bürglen, a secluded hamlet in the canton of Uri, near the lake of Lucerne, about the year 1275, and, like his forefathers, was the proprietor of a cottage, a few small fields, a vineyard, and an orchard. When William had reached the age of twenty, his father is said to have died, bequeathing to him these humble possessions, and earnestly requesting him, with his latest breath, to work diligently for his subsistence, and to die, should it be needed, in his country's service. These admonitions, addressed to a highly sensitive mind, were not disregarded. Having consigned

his father's body to the tomb, he gave himself up to the labours of the field, and by his assiduous industry, is said ever to have reaped a plentiful harvest.

Rising at dawn of day, he stood behind his rude plough, and left it only when darkness summoned both man and beast to repose. Endowed by nature with a lofty and energetic mind, Tell was distinguished also by great physical strength and manly. beauty. He was taller by a head than most of his companions; he loved to climb the rugged rocks of his native mountains in pursuit of the chamois, and to steer his small boat across the lake in time of storm and of danger. The load of wood which he could bear upon his shoulders was prodigious, being, it is said, double that which any ordinary man could support.

In all out-door sports Tell likewise excelled. During holidays, when the young archers were trying their skill, according to ancient Swiss custom, Tell, who had no equal in the practice of the bow, was obliged to remain an idle spectator, in order to give others a chance for the prize. With such varied qualifications, and being also characterised by a courteous disposition, Tell was a general favourite among his countrymen, and an acceptable guest at every fireside. Meanwhile, in his humble home, he remained without a mate; and desirous of finding a partner who might grace his little domain, he fixed his attention on Emma, the daughter of Walter Furst, who was considered the best and fairest maiden of the whole canton of Uri. His advances being well received by both father and daughter, Tell in due time called Emma his wife, and henceforth his mountain home was the scene of happiness and contentment. The birth of a son, who was named Walter, in honour of his grandfather, added to the felicity of the pair. Until the age of six, Walter was left to his mother's care, but at that period the father undertook his education, carried him to the fields and pastures to instruct him in the works of nature, and spared no pains at home to cultivate and enlighten his mind. Other children subsequently added to the ties of family.

With other sources of happiness, Tell combined that of possessing a friend, who dwelt amid the rocky heights separating Uri from Underwald. Arnold Anderhalden of Melchthal was this associate. Although similar in many salient points of character, there was still an essential difference between the two men. Arnold of Melchthal, while he loved his country with an ardour equal to that of Tell, was capable of very great actions, without being prepared for much patient suffering or long endurance of wrong. Tell, whose temperament was more calm, and whose passions were more influenced by reason than impulse, only succeeded in restraining his friend's impulsive character by the stern force of example. Meantime the two friends passed their days in the enjoyment of one another's society, visiting at intervals each other's humble residence. Arnold had a daughter,

Clair by name, and Walter, the son of Tell, learned as he grew up to love and cherish her. Thus, in simple and tranquil pleasures, in the industrious prosecution of their several occupations, these two families dwelt in tranquillity and mutual happiness.

The introduction to power of Hermann Gessler broke in upon the joys of every citizen of Uri. Besides the allowance of the utmost license to his soldiers, the tolls were raised, the most slight and trivial offences punished by imprisonment and heavy fines, and the inhabitants treated with insolence and contempt. Gessler, passing on horseback before a house built by Stauffacher, in the village of Steinen, near Schwytz, cried, "What! shall it be borne that these contemptible peasants should build such an edifice as this? If they are to be thus lodged, what are we to do?" History records the indignant remonstrance of the wife of Stauffacher upon this occasion. "How long," exclaimed she, "shall we behold the oppressor triumphant, and the oppressed weep? How long shall the insolent stranger possess our lands, and bestow our inheritances upon his heirs? What avails it that our mountains and valleys are inhabited by men, if we, the mothers of Helvetia, are to suckle the children of slavery, and see our daughters swelling the train of our oppressors?" The energetic language of his wife was not thrown away upon Werner, but settled, and in due time brought forth fruit.

Meanwhile some of the instruments of oppression were punished when they were least prepared for retribution. As an example, we may instance the governor of Schwanau, a castle on the lake of Lowerz, who, having brought dishonour upon a family of distinction, perished by the hand of the eldest son. As a parallel instance, we may mention that a friend of Berenger of Landenberg, the young lord of Wolfenchiess, in Unterwalden, having seen the beautiful wife of Conrad of Baumgarten at Alzallen, and finding that her husband was absent, desired, in the most peremptory terms, that she should prepare him a bath; but the lady having called Conrad from the fields, and explained to him the repeated indignities to which she had been exposed, his resentment was so inflamed at the recital, that, rushing into the bath-chamber, he sacrificed the young noble on the spot. In a state of society but just emerging from barbarism, and which as yet knew but little of law or justice, continual instances were of daily occurrence in which private individuals thus took the law into their own hands. The result, however chivalric the custom may look in the abstract, was most fearful and terrible, and is but one of the many proofs how great a blessing civilisation has really been to mankind.

Tell foresaw, on the arrival of Gessler, many of the misfortunes which must inevitably follow his iron rule, and without explaining his views even to Arnold of Melchthal, without needlessly alarming his family, endeavoured to devise some means, not of bearing the yoke demurely, but of delivering his country from

the galling oppression which Albert had brought upon it. The hero felt satisfied that the evil deeds of the governor would sooner or later bring just retribution upon him; for this, and many other reasons, therefore, despite his own secret wishes, when Arnold poured out his fiery wrath in the ear of his friend, he listened calmly, and, to avoid inflaming him more, avowed none of his own views or even feelings in return.

One evening, however, William Tell and his wife sat in the front of their cottage, watching their son amusing himself amid the flocks, when the former grew more thoughtful and sad than usual. Presently Tell spoke, and for the first time imparted to his wife some of his most secret designs. While the conversation was still proceeding, the parents saw their son rush towards them crying for help, and shouting the name of old Melchthal. As he spoke, Arnold's father appeared in view, led by Clair, and feeling his way with a stick. Tell and his wife hastened forward, and discovered, to their inconceivable horror, that their friend was blind, his eyes having been put out with hot irons. The hero of Bürglen, burning with just indignation, called on the old man to explain the fearful sight, and also the cause of Arnold's absence. The unfortunate Melchthal seated himself, surrounded by his agonized friends, and immediately satisfied the impatient curiosity of Tell.

It appeared that that very morning the father, son, and granddaughter were in the fields loading a couple of oxen with produce for the market-town, when an Austrian soldier presented himself, and having examined the animals, which appeared to suit his fancy, ordered their owner to unyoke the beasts preparatory to his driving them off. Adding insolence to tyranny, he further remarked that such clodpoles might very well draw their own ploughs and carts. Arnold, furious at the man's daring impertinence, was only restrained by his father's earnest intreaties from sacrificing the robber on the spot; nothing, however, could prevent him from aiming a blow at him, which broke two of his fingers. The enraged soldier then retreated; but old Melchthal, who well knew the character of Gessler, immediately forced Arnold, much against his inclination, to go and conceal himself for some days in the Rhigi. This mountain rises in a somewhat isolated position-a rare circumstance with the Swiss Alps-and is one of the most conspicuous hills of Switzerland. In form a truncated cone, with its base watered by three lakesLucerne, Zug, and Zurich-this gigantic hill is pierced by deep caverns, of which two are famous-the Bruder-balm, and the hole of Kessis-Boden. Scarcely had Arnold departed in this direction, when a detachment of guards from Altorf surrounded their humble tenement, and dragging old Melchthal before Gessler, he ordered him to give up his son. Furious at the refusal which ensued, the tyrant commanded the old man's eyes to be put out, and then sent him forth blind to deplore his misfortunes.