190 THE BARENGRABEN. heart, besides the pleasure we had in seeing its Bears chase each other, its turbaned Soldan shake his scimetar, and its Cock flap his wings: know then this redoutable name is Zeitglochenthurm. St. Christopher's Gateway is my favourite, not only from its noble dimensions, its picturesque detail, but also from that delicious old monster over the arch which might be Goliah, or Gog, or Magog, or Colbrand, or any other of those heroes of superlative stature. For my own part, I rather like those Giants; the very dilation of their form and feature prevents your giving them that concentration, that quintessence of malice, which is the characteristic of a wicked Dwarf. There is always a lurking expression of goodnature about the exaggerated lineaments, which seems, in spite of himself, to say "I am not the Rawhead and Bloody bones you take me for!" One always thinks of the dwarf Hudson and his victim Crofts; and yet I pity Ellen, who says, 66 My Sire's tall Form might grace the part Of Ferragus or Ascabart!" if those champions of Southampton resembled these monsters of the Berne Towers. Of course we went to see the Barengraben, but the poor dear Bears were really fit for nothing but to be shewn at Atkinson's door. They would make the man's fortune; they were so enormously fat, that they could not be troubled to waddle after the Biscuits and Redstreaks which we flung to them. I think it is Murray who says that the Interior of Berne Minster is not remarkable ;-pace tanti viri-I should venture to assert that it is eminently remarkable, not so much for its original ugliness, as for that beautification with which municipal Taste has thought proper to invest it. If the Roman Catholic interiors are too frequently disfigured by their tawdry decorations, there is some excuse, though a feeble one, for a Church whose predominant spirit it avowedly is "To gild refined gold, to paint the Lily, but that the Protestant, nay, the most ultra protestant, the Calvinist, the "simplex munditiis," for sooth, the Brother Jack who tore off the lace and tags of his hereditary coat, lest a remnant of Lord Peter should disfigure his Beautiful Garments; that he should paint and bedaub these ugly old Aisles in such a fashion, reminds one marvellously of the old proverb of the Washed Sow! * Such a thing too as that flowered and gilded organ!-why, the orchestra of a provincial ballroom would be ashamed of it. As for the details of the whole Interior, I must, at the hazard of coming to a sweeping conclusion, declare that there is *See "A Tale of a Tub." 192 THE MÜNSTER-THAL. nothing to admire in it. The outline of the Great Tower is majestic and impressive: indeed the exterior, rising in the centre of a broad area, surrounded by lofty mansions, is sufficiently striking. I should not forget to mention that there are some splendid windows of painted glass in the Choir worthy of a more congenial situation. Basle, 28th of September, 1844. Of course it would be worse than idle to attempt a description of the scenery between the lovely Lake of Bienne and Bâle, rejoicing in the worthy title The Münster Thal,* or indeed between any other two places in the alphabet;-but "Duller should I be than the fat weed That roots itself in ease on Lethe wharf," were I to withhold my tribute of admiration to its sublime characteristics. It is something to have traversed the Jura, something more when Jura's thunder splitten mass rends for us a strange road out of the chasm; but it is more than all to behold those enormous rampires from the chafing torrent at *The Vale of The Cathedral. THE MÜNSTER-THAL. 193 their base to the narrow arch of blue sky at their summit, inrobed with vast forests of beach and pine. You are ushered by a romantic arch of living rock into this wonderous scenery, which, not contented with the gloomy monotony which the grandeur of the mountain, or the purple mists of the deep gorge, disclose, intermingles these silvan ravines with basking meadows of the most delicate verdure, quaint old Villages, and ever and anon façades of perpendicular rock, whose natural Colonnades, sculptured by no architect less mighty than the torrent and the blast, Ellora or Elephanta might envy. The Birs, at first a small insignificant stream, racing hither and thither over its rocky bed, did at length, as day declined, assume the dignity of a swift but silent stream, whose chief delight it seemed to be to uncoil its purple scarf through meadows more like woven tapestry than mere earthly grass, while ever and anon, girdled with strange antic Towerlets, grim tall Dungeon, Gatehouse, Bridge and Moat, or soaring on its steep green mound, distinguished by the more stately ornaments of Terrace and Grove, some venerable Chateau received the willing homage of the circling stream. The tranquil lustre of the brightest harvest moon I ever beheld, exercised to the full her beautifying privilege over all this, alternately pic 194 THE STREETS OF BASLE. turing, in superb blackness, the outline of the massy buildings, or sparkling in the river that twined enamoured round their base. I may add by way of climax, that this unparalleled scenery extends between forty and fifty miles. Basle, 30th September, 1844. BASLE, or (as the Italians more legally, or more musically phrase it) Basilia, at first disappointed me. From what earthly source I would fain know do we draw our Home imaginations of the ancient Swiss and German towns? One is always picturing them as the most delightful old monsters of brick, stone, and timber work that can be conceived. Streets just made for two to encounter and lift their hats for about ten yards after they have passed each other, doubtless in gratitude for being allowed to pass at all; mansions apparently in transports of anxiety to embrace each other across the way, in which laudable attempt, with the help of enormous porches, and quatrefoiled and diamond work balconies, they just fail by half a yard! broad Bay windows, whose emblazoned and dusty lattices were intended for any purpose except Light and |