Interlachen! How peacefully, by the margin1 of the swift-rushing Aar, thou liest, on the broad lap of those romantic meadows, all overshadowed by the wide arms of giant trees! Only the round towers of thine ancient cloister2 rise above their summits; the round towers themselves, but a child's playthings under the great church-towers of the mountains. Close beside thee are lakes, which the flowing band of the river ties together. Before thee opens the magnificent valley of Lauterbrunn, where the cloud-hooded Monk3 and pale Virgin4 stand like Saint Francis and his Bride of Snow; and all around thee are fields, and orchards5, and hamlets green, from which the church-bells answer each other at evening! The eveningsun was setting when I first beheld6 thee! The sun of life will set ere I forget thee! Surely it was a scene like this, that inspired the soul of the Swiss poet, in his Song of the Bell!
"Bell! thou soundest merrily,
When the bridal party
To the church doth hie!
Bell! thou soundest solemnly,
When, on Sabbath morning,
Fields deserted7 lie!
"Bell! thou soundest merrily;
Tellest thou at evening,
Bed-time draweth nigh!
Bell! thou soundest mournfully;
Tellest thou the bitter
Parting hath gone by!
"Say! how canst thou mourn?
How canst thou rejoice?
Art but metal dull!
And yet all our sorrowings,
And all our rejoicings,
Thou dost feel them all!
"God hath wonders many,
Which we cannot fathom8,
Placed within thy form!
When the heart is sinking,
Thou alone canst raise it,
Trembling in the storm!"
Paul Flemming alighted at one of the principal hotels. The landlord came out to meet him. He had great eyes and a green coat; and reminded Flemming of the innkeeper mentioned in the Golden Ass9, who had been changed by magic into a frog, and croaked10 to his customers from the lees of a wine-cask. His house, he said, was full; and so was every house in Interlachen; but, if the gentleman would walk into the parlour, he would procure11 a chamber12 for him, in the neighbourhood.
On the sofa sat a gentleman, reading; a stout13 gentleman of perhaps forty-five, round, ruddy, and with a head, which, being a little bald on the top, looked not unlike a crow's nest, with one egg in it. A good-humored face turned from the book as Flemming entered; and a good-humored voice exclaimed;
"Ha! ha! Mr. Flemming! Is it you, or your apparition14! I told you we should meet again! though you were for taking an eternal farewell of your fellow-traveller."
Saying these words, the stout gentleman rose and shook Flemming heartily15 by the hand. And Flemming returned the shake as heartily, recognising in this ruddy personage, a former travelling companion, Mr. Berkley, whom he had left, a week or two previous, toiling16 up the Righi. Mr. Berkley was an Englishman of fortune; a good-humored, humane17 old bachelor; remarkable18 alike for his common sense and his eccentricity19. That is to say, the basis of his character was good, sound common sense, trodden down and smoothed by education; but this level groundwork his strange and whimsical fancy used as a dancing-floor, whereon to exhibit her eccentric tricks. His ruling passion was cold-bathing; and he usually ate his breakfast sitting in a tub of cold water, and reading a newspaper. He kissed every child he met; and to every old man, said in passing, "God bless you!" with such an expression of voice and countenance20, that no one could doubt his sincerity21. He reminded one of Roger Bontemps, or the Little Man in Gray; though with a difference.
"The last time I had the pleasure of seeing you, Mr. Berkley," said Flemming, "was at Goldau, just as you were going up the Righi. I hope you were gratified with a fine sunrise on the mountain top."
"No, Sir, I was not!" replied Mr. Berkley. "It is all a humbug22! a confounded humbug! They made such a noise about their sunrise, that I determined23 I would not see it. So I lay snug24 in bed; and only peeped through the window curtain. That was enough. Just above the house, on the top of the hill, stood some fifty half-dressed, romantic individuals, shivering in the wet grass; and, a short distance from them, a miserable25 wretch26, blowing a long, wooden horn. That's your sunrise on the Righi, is it? said I; and went to sleep again. The best thing I saw at the Culm, was the advertisement on the bed-room doors, saying, that, if the ladies would wear the quilts and blankets for shawls, when they went out to see the sunrise, they must pay for the washing. Take my word for it, the Righi is a great humbug!"
"Where have you been since?"
"At Zurich and Schaffhausen. If you go to Zurich, beware how you stop at the Raven27. They will cheat you. They cheated me; but I had my revenge, for, when we reached Schaffhausen, I wrote in the Traveller's Book;
Beware of the Raven of Zurich!
'T is a bird of omen28 ill;
With a noisy and an unclean nest,
And a very, very long bill.
If you go to the Golden Falken you will find it there. I am the author of those lines!"
"Bitter as Juvenal!" exclaimed Flemming.
"Not in the least bitter," said Mr. Berkley. "It is all true. Go to the Raven and see. But this Interlachen! this Interlachen! It is the loveliest spot on the face of the earth," he continued, stretching out both arms, as if to embrace the objectof his affection. &q............