The Lion of Lucerne
- Patrick Young
- Aug 9
- 4 min read
This series explores threads of German heritage beyond the Capital Region of New York. Click here for a full list of all articles in the series.
In a panicked scene from Shakespeare’s Hamlet, King Claudius demanded protection, calling out "Where are my Switzers? Let them guard the door."
He wasn’t talking about Swiss cheese, but rather he was demanding protection from his Swiss mercenaries. This raises a few questions - why, in Shakespeare’s version of the story, would Swiss soldiers be protecting a Danish king? In fact, if Switzerland is a neutral country, why would their soldiers be anywhere out of the country at all? The Lion of Lucerne can help us find the answer.
Supply & Demand
Today, the stunning Swiss mountains bring in tourists from around the globe, but in the Middle Ages they posed a major economic problem. The rough terrain made agriculture difficult, and the Swiss had very limited natural resources for trade or consumption. But they did have one thing others wanted — soldiers — and a reputation that preceded them.
In the 14th and 15th centuries, as the Swiss fought for their own independence, their foot soldiers faced off against numerically superior European armies with armored knights on horseback. To counter this disadvantage, the Swiss developed tight, disciplined infantry formations armed with long pikes. These formations neutralized the advantage of cavalry and won a series of spectacular victories. Word spread quickly: the Swiss were disciplined, reliable, and deadly on the battlefield.
European rulers wanted them in their armies, and the Swiss — in need of cash — were happy to supply them.
The Swiss Guard Mercenary System
Several Swiss cantons organized regiments of guards, which could be “rented” to foreign powers under a formal contract known as a capitulation. These agreements defined the length of service, pay, weapons, uniforms, and the soldiers’ rights. Because they were bound by law and tradition, Swiss units had a reputation for loyalty that went beyond most mercenaries of the time.
One such customer was Louis XVI of France. In the late 18th century, he recognized that the political winds in France were shifting, and he wanted a regiment he could count on as personal bodyguards. Louis, like King Claudius in Hamlet, felt he could depend on the loyalty of the Swiss. They were under contract, bound by honor, and less likely to adopt revolutionary ideas or join an insurrection against the king.
The Swiss Guards in France
The Canton of Lucerne gladly provided a regiment for this duty. On August 10, 1792, French revolutionaries stormed the Tuileries Palace, where Louis had fled after leaving Versailles. True to their contract, the Swiss Guards fought until they ran out of ammunition. Outnumbered and overwhelmed, perhaps 600–700 were killed in the fighting or executed shortly thereafter, and roughly 200 more died in prison.
The regimental commander was captured, put on trial, and executed by guillotine — still proudly wearing the red coat of the Swiss Guard Regiment.
Except for a small detachment stationed elsewhere in France, the Canton of Lucerne had lost most of its best soldiers. One officer from that detachment, Karl Pfyffer von Altishofen, returned home after the insurrection and wrote a detailed account of the regiment’s stand. The book, combined with the irreplaceable loss of Lucerne’s finest soldiers, inspired the creation of a monument. Pfyffer began collecting money in 1818, and by 1821 the Lion of Lucerne monument was complete.
The Monument
The lion is the largest part of the monument, lying mortally wounded by an impaled spear. Even in the face of death, his unyielding loyalty to both Switzerland and France is clear — shown by the Swiss coat of arms on the far left and the French fleur-de-lis beneath his paws. Below the lion, the inscription lists the names of the officers who died, including the commander, Major Karl Josef von Bachmann, in the right column, as well as the approximate number of soldiers who perished and survived.
Mark Twain visited the monument in 1880, and it’s best to let his own unique description stand for itself.
The Lion lies in his lair in the perpendicular face of a low cliff—for he is carved from the living rock of the cliff. His size is colossal, his attitude is noble. His head is bowed, the broken spear is sticking in his shoulder, his protecting paw rests upon the lilies of France. Vines hang down the cliff and wave in the wind, and a clear stream trickles from above and empties into a pond at the base, and in the smooth surface of the pond the lion is mirrored, among the water-lilies. Around about are green trees and grass. The place is a sheltered, reposeful woodland nook, remote from noise and stir and confusion—and all this is fitting, for lions do die in such places, and not on granite pedestals in public squares fenced with fancy iron railings. The Lion of Lucerne would be impressive anywhere, but nowhere so impressive as where he is.
The Legacy of the Swiss Guards
Switzerland’s permanent neutrality was formally recognized by the Congress of Vienna in 1815. The new Swiss constitution explicitly banned mercenary service for foreign powers, with one exception — the Papal Swiss Guard in Rome.
If you visit the Vatican today and see the brightly uniformed Swiss Guards, you are witnessing the last living remnant of a centuries-old tradition.
It’s worth making a connection here to the Hessian mercenaries of the American Revolution. In both cases, small countries with limited economic resources sought to improve their fortunes by creating well-trained, professional, and disciplined armies to rent to the highest bidder. In the 18th century, both German princes and Swiss cantons discovered that military manpower could be as valuable a commodity as gold — and for a time, they exported it throughout Europe and beyond.
Sources
All information about the monument and it's history, as well as photographs, can be found on the website maintained by the City of Lucerne.
Very interesting, I especially enjoyed learning what Mark Twain wrote. Thank you for teaching me something I never knew about!