In this blog post, we will examine the political and aesthetic significance of Schiller’s ‘Wilhelm Tell’, as well as the issues of resistance and violence.

Introduction

On March 17, 1804, Johann Christoph Friedrich von Schiller’s (1759–1805) ‘Wilhelm Tell’ was first staged at the Weimar Court Theater. Directed by Goethe himself, the performance lasted over five hours, but the audience’s response was enthusiastic. A few days later, Schiller wrote in a letter: “My ‘Wilhelm Tell’ was performed three days ago, and it has been a greater success than any of my previous plays.” However, the play’s success became even more evident after its performance at the Royal Theater in Berlin that July. Encouraged by the success of the performance, the theater management immediately decided to add six more performances. Subsequently, theaters across Germany rushed to stage the play. Depicting popular resistance, a sense of freedom, and even the assassination of a tyrant, the play was unwelcome in the eyes of government officials. As a result, it was often performed only after many parts had been cut, and in some places, it was banned for decades. However, the play eventually became one of the most successful works in the history of German theater and, from the late 19th century onward, firmly established itself as required reading for students and a staple of general education. Numerous lines from the play are widely used as proverbs throughout the German-speaking world. Performances of this play often became folk festivals in their own right, and it is still performed today at the Thäl Festival, held annually in Interlaken, Switzerland. Gioachino Rossini also composed an opera based on this work. Having been repeatedly translated into most European languages as early as the 19th century, the work is now not only recognized as an integral part of world literature but has also been adapted into children’s literature, where it is widely cherished.

Wilhelm Tell: The Icon of Freedom and Revolution

The fact that this work has come to be so beloved by people around the world is, of course, due to Schiller’s skill in masterfully transforming the story of Wilhelm Tell into a dramatic work, but the popularity of the subject matter itself also played a significant role. This popularity was also a key factor in Schiller’s decision to adapt the subject matter into a play. In one letter, he noted that the subject contained “a great deal of dramatic effect and popular elements,” and in another, he wrote, “People are absolutely obsessed with such popular subjects.” Wilhelm Tell was already a well-known figure to the public during Schiller’s lifetime. From the 15th century through Schiller’s time, there were countless literary works based on Wilhelm Tell, and numerous historical works dealing with the Swiss uprising were also published. However, this figure received particular attention in post-Revolutionary France, where Wilhelm Tell was revered as an idol. In 1793, the French National Convention decided to stage “tragedies such as Brutus and plays like ‘Wilhelm Tell’, which depict the glorious events of the Revolution and the virtues of the defenders of liberty,” three times a week. In speeches and proclamations before the Convention, Wilhelm Tell was frequently cited as a legendary forefather of the French Revolution. In street parades, a person dressed as Wilhelm Tell rode on a triumphal chariot to the cheers of the crowd, and countless streets, squares, place names, and newborns were named after him. Furthermore, in 1798, the Helvetic Republic, established in Switzerland under Napoleon’s leadership, also adopted Wilhelm Tell as its symbolic figure. Tell’s image was printed on all official documents of the republic. Around the time Schiller wrote this work, Wilhelm Tell was not only a popular figure but also a highly symbolic political figure, and Schiller himself was well aware of this political significance.

Schiller, the “Poet of Freedom”

It does not seem coincidental that Schiller dedicated his final work to the figure of Wilhelm Tell. Having spent his youth in a military school that felt like a prison, freedom was a lifelong theme for Schiller. For Schiller, who was confined for seven years—until he turned twenty-one—at the Karlschule, where the daily routine was strictly dictated by the monarch from the moment he woke up until he fell asleep, where the children of commoners and nobles were strictly segregated, and where obedience and discipline were relentlessly enforced, literature was the only space where he could dream of freedom. The protagonist of his first work, ‘The Robbers’ (‘Die Rauber’), Karl More, exclaims: “Death or freedom—it must be one or the other!” In ‘Don Karlos’, which Schiller wrote in his twenties and was later adapted into an opera by Verdi, the Marquis of Fossa cries out to King Philip II of Spain: “Look at the magnificent nature that surrounds you! Freedom is the foundation of nature. How richly does freedom enrich nature!” Freedom is also a central concept in Schiller’s aesthetics and theories of art. In the ‘Kallias Letters’ (‘Kalliasbriefe’), where he systematically discussed the concept of beauty, he defined beauty as “freedom within phenomena”; and in ‘On the Sublime’ (‘Vom Erhabenen’), which discusses the sublime—one of the two fundamental concepts of modern aesthetics—he stated that the essence of the sublime lies in “the awareness of the freedom of our reason.” In his theory of tragedy as well, “freedom as the source of art’s power” is repeatedly emphasized. Thus, freedom was the central theme to which Schiller devoted his entire life. The fact that Wilhelm Tell—regarded as the embodiment of freedom—was the character Schiller created by devoting his remaining strength while anticipating his death due to a long illness was entirely fitting for his nickname, “the Poet of Freedom.”

The Road to the Completion of ‘Wilhelm Tell’

However, Schiller was not immediately drawn to Wilhelm Tell and the Swiss peasant uprising. In 1789, when Charlotte von Lengefeld—who would later become his wife—read an account of the Swiss peasant uprising in a history book and sent him an enthusiastic letter, Schiller’s response was relatively lukewarm. At the time, Schiller acknowledged the greatness demonstrated by the Swiss peasant uprising, but he viewed it with disapproval, believing that the people’s roughness and crudeness had led to this outcome.
It was Goethe who rekindled Schiller’s interest in Wilhelm Tell. In October 1797, in a letter written during his travels in Switzerland, Goethe expressed his intention to write a work about Tell. Even after returning from his trip, Goethe did not abandon the idea of writing this work, and Schiller, too, actively supported Goethe’s intention at that time. This was because he believed that, despite being a local event, it allowed for a broad perspective on humanity. However, Goethe decided to write another work, ‘Achilles’, first and thus abandoned this project. Afterward, Schiller also put it out of his mind. But a few years later, beginning in early 1801, a false rumor spread throughout Germany that Schiller was writing a work about Wilhelm Tell, and Schiller began to receive frequent inquiries about it. This prompted Schiller to take a renewed interest in the subject, and he began discussing the possibility of adapting it into a play with his acquaintances. After further examining not only the book ‘History of the Swiss Confederation’ (1786) by the Swiss historian Johannes Müller—which Charlotte had recommended—but also numerous Swiss historical texts, including ‘The Swiss Chronicle’ (1570)—as well as numerous other Swiss historical texts—Schiller carefully weighed the possibilities for dramatizing the subject and ultimately decided to write the play.
After first writing the play ‘The Bride of Messina’ (‘Die Braut von Messina’), Schiller began work on this play in earnest around July 1803. Having never set foot on Swiss soil in his life, Schiller had to study the nature and customs around Lake Vierwaldstättli extensively in order to write this work, which is steeped in local color. Schiller considered traveling to Switzerland himself but was unable to do so. He began writing at the end of August of that year. Goethe later recalled Schiller’s work at that time as follows: “Schiller maintained that a person must be able to accomplish whatever he sets his mind to, and he actually worked according to this creed. Let me give one example. Schiller decided to write ‘Tell’. First, he obtained as many detailed maps of Switzerland as he could and covered an entire wall with them. Then he began reading various travelogues about Switzerland and did not stop until he knew every road and even the smallest path in the region where the Swiss uprising took place. He also studied Swiss history. Once he had completed all the necessary preparations, he sat down at his desk and, quite literally, did not rise from his seat until he had finished ‘Wilhelm Tell’.” When word spread that Schiller was writing this work, Johannes Müller also sent word through Goethe, expressing his high hopes for it. After a long battle with illness, and facing death that would come a year later, Schiller persevered through sheer willpower and worked intensively. As a result, on February 18, 1804, Schiller was able to write the following in his notebook: “‘ I have finished ‘Wilhelm Tell’.”

The French Revolution and Schiller

In Schiller’s view, the successful uprising of the Swiss people to defend their autonomy and freedom against Austria’s desire for domination and tyranny was an exceptional event in history. In the 1790s, Schiller moved away from the Enlightenment’s optimistic view of history and arrived at a negative assessment of history as it had been.
In his aesthetic essay ‘On the Sublime (Über das Erhabene)’, he summarized human history as “a conflict between the forces of nature and human freedom,” assessing that the forces of nature (which include human instincts and desires) had exerted far greater power throughout history, while free reason “had been able to assert its power only in a few exceptional cases.” However, as a historian, Schiller was primarily interested in historical events that illustrated humanity’s struggle against force and power in the name of freedom. This is evident not only in his plays ‘The Conspiracy of Fiesco in Genoa’ (‘Die Verschwörung des Fiesco zu Genua’) and ‘Don Carlos’, and ‘The Maid of Orleans’ (Die Jungfrau von Orleans) are prime examples of this; furthermore, ‘History of the Most Remarkable Rebellions and Conspiracies of the Middle and Modern Ages’ (Geschichte der merkwurdigsten Rebellionen und Verschworungen aus den mittlern und neuern Zeiten), which he edited and published, also deals with resistance to power. His first historical work, ‘The History of the Revolt of the United Netherlands against Spanish Rule’ (‘Geschichte des Abfalls der Vereinigten Niederlande von der spanischen Regierung’), which depicts the Dutch citizens’ struggle for freedom against the tyranny of Philip II, was also written with the intention of advocating resistance to absolutism. This is why Schiller’s ‘The Robbers’ was frequently performed in post-revolutionary France, and why the French National Assembly named Schiller an honorary citizen of France in 1792—in recognition of his contributions to freedom and humanity through literature. Given this background, it was only natural for him to dramatize the story of Wilhelm Tell and the Swiss popular uprising; however, the most significant ideological impetus that led Schiller to write this play was the French Revolution.
For Schiller, the “Poet of Freedom,” the French Revolution could not help but be a matter of the utmost concern. While many German intellectuals were initially enthusiastic about the French Revolution, which began in 1789, they gradually became indifferent as the violence of the revolution intensified. Schiller closely followed the events unfolding in France, yet maintained a reserved and skeptical attitude from the very beginning. He naturally agreed with the ideals of the French Revolution—liberty, equality, and fraternity—and recognized natural rights and the right to resistance, but he resolutely criticized the revolution’s descent into excessive violence and indiscriminate chaos. Schiller explored in depth, from an early stage, the problem that even a resistance movement begun with the right intentions could be distorted by the numerous forms of greed, individual self-interest, and excessive idealism that became entangled within it. This is why, among Schiller’s plays, the struggle against unjust power and circumstances is victorious only in ‘The Maid of Orleans’ and ‘William Tell’. For Schiller, the French Revolution was an event that once again prompted him to reflect on the path toward desirable social development. In his renowned work on aesthetics, ‘Letters on the Aesthetic Education of Man’ (‘Über die ästhetische Erziehung des Menschen in einer Reihe von Briefen’), written after the Revolution, Schiller diagnosed that the subjective conditions for political transformation—namely, the ethical consciousness of the citizens—had not yet been established, and argued that fulfilling these conditions was a task that must precede any transformation. He further emphasized that education through the arts plays a decisive role in accomplishing this task. ‘Wilhelm Tell’, which he began writing ten years after the execution of Louis XVI, is also deeply imbued with Schiller’s reflections on the desirable path of social development.

The Historical Wilhelm Tell and the Swiss Peasants’ Revolt

Historians have already established that Wilhelm Tell was not a real historical figure. It is unclear where the story of an archer forced to shoot an apple placed on his son’s head originated, but as early as the 12th century, in ‘The History of the Kings and Heroes of Denmark’ by the Danish historian Saxo Grammaticus, an archer named Toko drew three arrows to shoot an apple placed on his son’s head at the king’s command, and and that he had drawn the other two arrows to kill the king in case he missed the apple. Toko shot an arrow from the forest and killed the king. It is estimated that this story made its way to Switzerland in the 15th century, after the Swiss peasant uprising, and by the end of the 15th century, it had already begun to be intertwined with the history of the Swiss uprising. However, at that time, Tell’s story was treated merely as one of several anecdotes—alongside those of Baumgarten and Melchthal—that helped spark the uprising. But in the 16th century, as plays featuring Tell as the protagonist began to emerge, he was elevated to the status of liberator of the Swiss people and founder of the Swiss Confederation. In contrast, in historical works that sought to remain more faithful to historical facts—such as Züddi’s ‘Chronicle of Switzerland’ or Müller’s ‘History of the Swiss Confederation’—Tell’s story was still treated merely as an anecdote. However, even in these historical works, Tell was described as having participated in the Rütli Assembly and taken the oath alongside the others.
The three Swiss cantons formed an alliance and rose in revolt because the Austrian Habsburg dynasty sought to strip them of their autonomy and annex the region into Austrian territory. According to the historical works Schiller read, the background to the Swiss uprising was roughly as follows. From the late 13th century to the early 14th century, the three cantons of Uri, Schwyz, and Unterwalden belonged to the Holy Roman Empire but were imperial territories under the direct rule of the emperor, free from the authority of local lords; as a result, they exercised considerable autonomy. However, Albert I, who had been Duke of Austria and was elected King of the Holy Roman Empire in 1298, sought to use this position to expand the Habsburg family’s territories by annexing the Swiss region, which was situated between the Habsburgs’ existing territories in the Rhineland and Austria. To this end, he refused to recognize the “Letters of Freedom,” which were central to the three cantons’ autonomy. As he misused the bailiffs—who were supposed to serve as representatives of the Imperial King or Emperor—as agents of the Habsburg dynasty, and as the bailiffs’ abuses continued, the residents of the three cantons convened a popular assembly at Rütli in 1307 and formed an alliance. An uprising broke out the following year. The residents drove out the governors and prepared for an expected counterattack, but shortly thereafter, Albrecht I was assassinated by his nephew, the Duke of Swabia, and Austria’s counterattack was postponed (according to recent historical research, the three cantons formed their alliance in 1291, and their uprising occurred after Albrecht I’s assassination, triggered by that event. There is also a view that the uprising occurred in mid-1291, just before the alliance was formed).

Breach of the Social Contract and the Right to Resistance

Based on this historical understanding, Schiller condensed the events that unfolded over a total of one and a half years—from October 28, 1306 (“Simon and Jude’s Day”), when the Baumgarten incident occurred, to immediately after the assassination of Albert I (May 1308)—into a much shorter period of less than two months. The play begins by depicting the peaceful, idyllic lives of the Swiss people, but suddenly, with the appearance of Baumgarten, it reveals the reality of suffering under tyranny, thereby contrasting what must be preserved with what must disappear and laying the groundwork for a tense dramatic development. According to the “Letter of Freedom”—which represented a social contract between the three cantons and the emperor—the Swiss were only required to pay land taxes and fulfill their military service obligations to the emperor, while they were free to decide on all other internal matters autonomously. However, Albert I refused to sign the Letter of Freedom, thereby breaching the contract. Furthermore, the bailiffs—who were supposed to exercise only judicial authority—brutally punish the residents and violate their families. The more Gessler is portrayed as the embodiment of evil, the more legitimacy the uprising gains, and the more likely it becomes that Tell’s killing will be condoned. Moreover, as seen in the construction of the Zwinger, it is clear that the tyranny will only grow worse with each passing day. Resistance gains dual justification: not only does the Emperor’s breach of contract already free the Swiss from their duty of obedience, but the governors’ destruction of the natural order in which the Swiss believe further legitimizes their resistance. Furthermore, judging by the people of Schwyz’s declaration of secession from the Empire following the conflict with the Abbey of Einsiedeln, it appears that the contract with the Emperor also included the right to resistance. Adequately describing the legitimacy of resistance was a matter of great importance to Schiller, as the right to resistance was a central issue in the political debates of his time.
The debate over the right to resistance, which had begun as early as antiquity, emerged as a key topic in social contract theory by the time of 17th-century English philosophers such as Hobbes and Locke. It was Kant who reignited the debate on the right to resistance during Schiller’s era. In his 1793 essay, “On the Cliché ‘It May Be True in Theory, but Not in Practice,’” he sparked a heated debate by denying the right of resistance. Kant, who had previously recognized the right of resistance before the French Revolution, denied it in this essay because he had come to believe that the Revolution was undermining the very foundations of law. Raising the question, “Who, and by what authority, recognizes the right of resistance?” he argued that recognizing this right amounts to denying the authority of the supreme legislator—who must be unique—and that this denial ultimately leads to leaving the question of whether to recognize the law to individual judgment, which in turn signifies the collapse of society itself. Kant’s critique of the right of resistance, as stipulated in Article 2 of the 1789 French Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen, was, in essence, a critique of the right to revolution.
‘Wilhelm Tell’ can also be viewed as Schiller’s response to Kant’s views. Let us recall Stauffacher’s lines: “Even the power of a tyrant has its limits. (omitted) When no other means will do, / a man has no choice but to take up the sword as a last resort— / We have the right to defend our greatest possession / against violence—.” (p. 76) This is a clear declaration of the right to resistance and a critique of Kant.
However, Schiller believed that exercising the right to resistance correctly was just as important as recognizing it. He held that one must not use more violence than the minimum morally justifiable amount, and that if resistance leads to indiscriminate violence and anarchy, the very legitimacy of the resistance itself is lost. It was precisely for this reason that he criticized the French Revolution. As evidenced by Schiller’s comparison of Zwingour to the Bastille in one of his letters, the connection between this work and the French Revolution is clear. Through this play, Schiller sought to present an alternative path distinct from the one taken by the French Revolution, and thus he devoted great effort to preserving the nonviolent nature of the popular uprising in this drama. In the play, Walter Fürst says: “But let us avoid bloodshed if possible. (…) For a nation that knows how to exercise restraint even while wielding a sword / is a force to be feared.” (p. 81) Melchital spares the captured Landenberger, and the uprising ends without bloodshed. Schiller expressed this intention even more clearly in a letter: “A nation that does not lose its humanity even in anger / and knows how to exercise restraint even in moments of success and victory / will endure forever and deserves to be praised.” This is precisely why, unlike the historical texts he consulted, Schiller thoroughly separated Tell from the alliance of the people and the uprising. This is because Tell is a character who commits the act of murder.

The Lone Figure, Wilhelm Tell

Wilhelm Tell appears as a savior from the very beginning, to the extent that he is often compared to Jesus. The people repeatedly call him a savior; this not only demonstrates that Tell is an exceptional heroic figure but also reveals that a considerable distance lies between the common people and Tell. At times, Tell harbors a naive belief that nothing will happen if he keeps a low profile—such as when he refuses to attend the Rütli Assembly, saying, “A snake won’t bite someone who stays still” (p. 31), or when he states, “When a ship is sinking, it’s easier to save yourself alone” (p. 31), thereby denying the effectiveness of collective action—all of which demonstrates that his way of thinking is very different from that of the common people. In Act 4, Scene 3, when Tell says, “No matter how good a person may be, / if tormented by a wicked neighbor, he loses his peace” (p. 154), it is tantamount to Tell’s confession that he had misjudged the situation in the early part of the play. The reason Tell made such a mistake is that he embodies the “simplicity of thought” that Schiller described in “On Naive and Reflective Literature.” A person who has not yet experienced the division and conflict between the self and the world that arise within civilization, who remains in a natural state not yet called upon to reflect, and who therefore follows only natural emotions and judgments without artifice in thought or action—this is precisely what “simplicity of thought” reveals;
Tell’s willingness to help Baumgarten without hesitation demonstrates that he is a natural man who retains this simplicity of thought. Furthermore, the fact that his profession is that of a solitary hunter wandering alone suggests that he is a natural man and a loner—a figure ill-suited to the era of modern democracy. He strictly distinguishes between the private and public spheres, making it clear that he will not get involved in public affairs as long as he can protect his own family. Even when he acts as a savior, he limits his role to helping one individual as a private citizen.
The reason why Tell kills the tyrant Gessler is by no means because Gessler is committing tyranny as a public figure. He kills Gessler solely because Gessler has forced him to endanger his son’s life and is now expected to inflict violence upon his family. When we recall Landenberger’s atrocity—gouging out Melchthal’s father’s eyes to force him to reveal his son’s hiding place—Tell’s anticipation is well-founded. Tell, who had always kept the public and private spheres separate, took action precisely because this private sphere was under attack. Thus, Tell’s act was driven not by political motives but solely by personal ones. Therefore, Tell’s killing of Gessler was neither a political nor a revolutionary act, nor did it have any connection to a popular uprising.
On the contrary, from the perspective of a popular uprising, Tell’s act was a dangerous one that could easily have thwarted the entire uprising. At the conclusion of the town meeting, Stauffacher issued this warning: “Restrain even righteous anger, / and postpone personal vengeance for the sake of the whole. / Those who act out of personal grudges / will undermine the greater cause of the whole.” (p. 85) Had Tell participated in the town meeting, he would have been the one who violated the collective code of conduct for personal reasons. Even in Tell’s lengthy soliloquy immediately before the assassination of Gessler, there is no trace of consideration for how his actions might affect the success or failure of the uprising. Schiller himself wrote in a letter, “Tell stands utterly alone within the play; his cause is a private one, and it remains so until it is united with the public cause at the play’s conclusion.” Unlike the historical texts he consulted, Schiller thoroughly isolated Tell from the other residents, the people’s assembly, and the uprising itself precisely because Tell resorted to violence. And this violence was none other than the assassination of a tyrant. Given that Schiller was deeply outraged by the execution of Louis XVI, Tell’s assassination of a tyrant was a serious issue that he could never view lightly. Schiller’s decision to include Tell’s soliloquy in the play—which, given Tell’s overall character, seemed somewhat forced and excessively long—and to stage a seemingly implausible encounter with the Duke of Swabia were measures intended to convey sufficient reflection on this act of regicide.

The Killing of a Tyrant and Tell’s Agony

The debate over the legitimacy of killing a tyrant dates back to antiquity; since the killing of a tyrant cannot be justified unless the right to resist is recognized, this issue was also intrinsically linked to the right to resist. Is it right to endure a ruler’s unjust violence, oppression, and killings, or is it right to remove the tyrant, even if it means resorting to murder? Since the assassination of Hipparchus, the absolute monarch of Athens, in 514 BCE, the most famous case of tyrannicide—one that has been widely debated—was the assassination of the dictator Caesar. In 17th-century France, a group of political theorists known as the Monarchomachs recognized tyrannicide as a last resort. This issue was also actively debated in the 18th century, and Voltaire addressed the problem of tyrannicide from a republican perspective in ‘The Death of Caesar’. In Germany, too, there were writers who venerated Brutus, and in Schiller’s ‘The Robbers’, the dialogue between Caesar and Brutus was depicted in a tragic tone. Following the execution of Louis XVI in early 1793, the assassination of a tyrant had become a highly sensitive issue; consequently, the acts of murder committed by Tell and the Duke of Swabia in this play inevitably drew significant attention. Taking this situation into account, Schiller gave Tell ample opportunity to justify his actions within the play.
Schiller valued Tell’s soliloquy immediately before the murder of Gessler so highly that he called it “the finest part of the play.” In this soliloquy, which demonstrates how Gessler’s unnatural command caused Tell to lose his simplicity and become reflective, Tell justifies his act of murder as a defense of natural rights. Tell believes that protecting his wife and children from the tyrant’s violence is a natural right bestowed upon humans by nature, independent of positive law. He swore to God that he would kill Gessler because he was convinced that this belief aligned with God’s will. Following Tell’s soliloquy, Gessler’s act of trampling on Armgard—who is begging him to release her husband—once again underscores Gessler’s sin of violating the family and reinforces the necessity of killing him.
However, even here, a deep shadow is cast over Tell’s self-defense. Tell’s repeated use of the word “murder” reveals his anguish over his situation and a sense of guilt that no logic can fully erase. This sentiment is echoed in his conversation with the Duke of Swabia. By highlighting the difference between Tell’s actions and those of the Duke of Swabia, Schiller once again creates an opportunity to justify Tell’s actions and demonstrates that he does not take murder lightly but judges it according to very strict standards. To use Schiller’s own words, the Duke of Schwaben’s killing of the Emperor was a “detestable murder born of audacity and a thirst for glory,” whereas Tell’s killing was an act of self-defense to protect natural rights. Through this contrast with the Duke of Swabia, Schiller sought to make it clear that the play merely advocates for “the necessity and legitimacy of self-defense, which is recognized only in strictly limited, specific cases.”
However, despite this justification, Tell’s anguish still seems profound.
Tell declares that he will never use a crossbow again, calls himself a “sinful man,” and—even after fiercely rebuking the Duke of Swabia—ultimately feels compassion for him; at the end of the play, instead of responding joyfully to the cheers of the townspeople, he remains silent. Regardless of the victory of the uprising, Tell cannot shake the belief that murder is a sin. Ultimately, Tell remains a man tormented by guilt. Schiller’s decision to thoroughly isolate Tell from the uprising was likely because he himself believed that the stain of guilt from the murder of a tyrant could never be completely erased. Viewed in this light, Tell could be seen as the scapegoat of the uprising, enabling the people’s resistance to be achieved nonviolently. Had it not been for the actions of Tell and the Duke of Swabia, the uprising would not have ended bloodlessly.
A Bold Defense of Resistance and DemocracyThe people’s resistance initially took on a conservative character. This was because its purpose was to restore the old order that had governed the world of their forebears. The residents decided to continue fulfilling their feudal obligations and did not even attempt to secede from the empire. However, the nobility was excluded from the People’s Assembly; figures like Melchital expressed a critical stance toward the nobility, and the Assembly’s decisions followed the principle of majority rule. The residents replaced the era of vertical paternal authority with a horizontal era in which “a people united as brothers” held sway. It is not difficult to discern an allusion to fraternity—a slogan of the French Revolution—in this term “brothers.” Arthinghausen prophesies that the era of the nobility has ended and a new era of popular sovereignty has begun. The fact that the play concludes with Ludenz’s declaration, “I hereby proclaim freedom to all my servants,” clearly reveals the work’s anti-feudal and democratic character.This work embodies Schiller’s intense search for a path that would advocate for the people’s right to resistance and the necessity of democratic reform while avoiding excessive violence and the breakdown of order. The fact that Schiller chose Tell as the protagonist rather than Stauffer seems to be an admission that this reflection had not yet reached a complete resolution. Nevertheless, this play was a bold and profound defense of democracy, and Schiller’s commitment to freedom—which never abandoned the natural rights, the right to resistance, and the doctrine of popular sovereignty championed by the French Revolution, despite all the challenges—serves as a powerful full stop at the very end of his life.