On St. Jacob’s day he had a pole erected in the market-place at Altdorf, under the lime-trees there growing, and directed that his hat should be placed on its top.  This done, the command was issued that all who passed through the market-place should bow and kneel to this hat as to the king himself, blows and confiscation of property to be the lot of all who refused.  A guard was placed around the pole, whose duty was to take note of every man who should fail to do homage to the governor’s hat.

On the Sunday following, a peasant of Uri, William Tell by name, who, as we are told, was one of the thirty-three sworn confederates, passed several times through the market-place at Altdorf without bowing or bending the knee to Gessler’s hat.  This was reported to the governor, who summoned Tell to his presence, and haughtily asked him why he had dared to disobey his command.

“My dear lord,” answered Tell, submissively, “I beg you to pardon me, for it was done through ignorance and not out of contempt.  If I were clever, I should not be called Tell.  I pray your mercy; it shall not happen again.”

[Illustration:  STATUE OF WILLIAM TELL.]

The name Tell signifies dull or stupid, a meaning in consonance with his speech, though not with his character.  Yet stupid or bright, he had the reputation of being the best archer in the country, and Gessler, knowing this, determined on a singular punishment for his fault.  Tell had beautiful children, whom he dearly loved.  The governor sent for these, and asked him,—­

“Which of your children do you love the best?”

“My lord, they are all alike dear to me,” answered Tell.

“If that be so,” said Gessler, “then, as I hear that you are a famous marksman, you shall prove your skill in my presence by shooting an apple off the head of one of your children.  But take good care to hit the apple, for if your first shot miss you shall lose your life.”

“For God’s sake, do not ask me to do this!” cried Tell in horror.  “It would be unnatural to shoot at my own dear child.  I would rather die than do it.”

“Unless you do it, you or your child shall die,” answered the governor harshly.

Tell, seeing that Gessler was resolute in his cruel project, and that the trial must be made or worse might come, reluctantly agreed to it.  He took his cross-bow and two arrows, one of which he placed in the bow, the other he stuck behind in his collar.  The governor, meanwhile, had selected the child for the trial, a boy of not more than six years of age, whom he ordered to be placed at the proper distance, and himself selected an apple and placed it on the child’s head.

Tell viewed these preparations with startled eyes, while praying inwardly to God to shield his dear child from harm.  Then, bidding the boy to stand firm and not be frightened, as his father would do his best not to harm him, he raised the perilous bow.