The story which tradition hands down as the origin of the freedom of Switzerland dates back to the beginning of the fourteenth century.  At that time Switzerland was under the sovereignty of the emperor of Germany, who ruled over Central Europe.  Count Rudolph of Hapsburg, a Swiss by birth, who had been elected to the imperial throne in 1273, made some efforts to save his countrymen from the oppression of a foreign yoke.  His son, Albert, Archduke of Austria, who succeeded him in 1298, inherited none of his sympathies for Switzerland.  On his accession to the throne Albert resolved to curtail the liberties still enjoyed by the inhabitants of some of the cantons, and to bend the whole of the Swiss people to his will.

The mountaineers of the cantons of Schwytz, Uri, and Unterwalden recognized no authority but that of the emperor; while the peasants of the neighboring valleys were at the mercy of local tyrants—­the great nobles and their allies.

In order to carry out his project of subjecting all to the same yoke, Albert of Austria appointed governors to rule over the semi-free provinces or cantons.  These governors, who bore the official title of Bailiffs of the Emperor, exercised absolute authority over the people.  Men, women, and children were at their mercy, and were treated as mere chattels—­the property of their rulers.  Insult and outrage were heaped upon them until their lives became almost unendurable.

An instance of the manner in which these petty tyrants used their authority is related of the bailiff Landenberg, who ruled over Unterwalden.

For some trumped-up offense of which a young peasant, named Arnold of Melcthal, was accused, his oxen were confiscated by Landenberg.  The deputy sent to seize the animals, which Landenberg really coveted for his own, said sneeringly to Arnold, “If peasants wish for bread, they must draw the plow themselves.”  Roused to fury by this taunt, Arnold attempted to resist the seizure of his property, and in so doing broke an arm of one of the deputy’s men.  He then fled to the mountains; but he could not hide himself from the vengeance of Landenberg.  The peasant’s aged father was arrested by order of the bailiff, and his eyes put out in punishment for his son’s offense.  “That puncture,” says an old chronicler, “went so deep into many a heart that numbers resolved to die rather than leave it unrequited.”

But the crudest and most vindictive of the Austrian or German bailiffs, as they were interchangeably called, was one Hermann Gessler.  He had built himself a fortress, which he called “Uri’s Restraint,” and there he felt secure from all attacks.

This man was the terror of the whole district.  His name was a synonym for all that was base, brutal, and tyrannical.  Neither the property, the lives, nor the honor of the people were respected by him.  His hatred and contempt for the peasants were so great that the least semblance of prosperity among them aroused his ire.