Basil.
Having, on a former occasion, made a more extensive tour through
Switzerland, we determined not to deviate from the direct road to
Strasbourg. In pursuance of this resolution, H——y and I, when we left
Bern, passed by Soleurre, the capital of the canton of the same name.
Soleurre is an agreeable little town situated on the river Aar. The
houses are neatly built, and not inelegant; the meanest of them have a
cleanly appearance. The common people seem to be in easier circumstances,
and have a greater air of content, than in any Roman Catholic country I
have ever visited. The inn where we lodged has the comfortable look of
an English one. The French ambassador to the cantons has his residence in
this town. One of the churches of Soleurre is the most magnificent modern
building in Switzerland.
The arsenal is stored with arms in proportion to the number of
inhabitants in the canton; and there are trophies, and other monuments
of the valour of their ancestors, as in the arsenal of Bern. In the
middle of the hall there are thirteen figures of men in complete armour,
representing the thirteen Swiss cantons.
The country between Soleurre and Basil, though very hilly, is beautiful,
perhaps the more so on that account; because of the variety of surface
and different views it presents. H——y and I had more leisure to admire
those fine landscapes than we wished, for the axle tree of the chaise
broke at some miles distant from Basil.
It was the gay season of the vintage.—The country was crowded with
peasantry of both sexes and every age, all employed in gathering and
carrying home the grapes. Our walk for these few miles was agreeable and
amusing. In all countries this is the season of joy and festivity, and
approaches nearest the exaggerated description which the ancient poets
have given of rural happiness. Perhaps there is in reality not so much
exaggeration in their description, as alteration in our manners.—For, if
the peasants were allowed to enjoy the fruits of their own labour, would
not their lives be more delightful than those of any other people?—In
spite of poverty and oppression, a happy enthusiasm, a charming madness,
and perfect oblivion of care, are diffused all over France during the
vintage.—Every village is enlivened with music, dancing, and glee;—and
were it not for their tattered clothes and emaciated countenances, one
who viewed them in the vintage season, would imagine the country people
of France in a situation as enviable as that which, according to the
Poets, was formerly enjoyed by the Shepherds of Arcadia.—The peasantry
of this country have not so great a sensibility or expression of joy;
and though blessed with health, freedom, and abundance, a composed
satisfaction, a kind of phlegmatic good-humour, mark the boundaries of
their happiness.
When we arrived at Basil, we went directly to the Three Kings. This
inn, in point of situation, is the most agreeable you can well imagine.
The Rhine washes its walls, and the windows of a large dining-room look
across that noble river to the fertile plains on the opposite side.
I am just returned from that same dining-room, where H——y and I thought
proper to sup.—There were ten or a dozen people at table.—I sat next to
a genteel-looking man from Strasbourg, with whom I conversed a good
deal during supper. He had for his companion a round-faced, rosy, plump
gentleman, from Amsterdam, who did not speak French; but the Strasburgher
addressed him from time to time in Low Dutch, to which the other replied
by nods.
When the retreat of the greater part of the company had contracted the
little circle which remained, I expressed some regret to my Strasbourg
acquaintance, that Mr. H——y and I could not speak a little Dutch; or that
his friend could not speak French, that we might enjoy the pleasure of
his conversation. This was immediately translated to the Dutchman, who
heard it with great composure, and then took his pipe from his mouth,
and made an answer, which I got our interpreter, with some difficulty,
to explain. It was to this effect:—That we ought to console ourselves
for the accident of our not understanding each other; for as we had
no connection, or dealings in trade together, our conversing could
not possibly answer any useful purpose. H——y made a low bow to this
compliment, saying, that the justness and good sense of that remark had
certainly escaped my observation, as he acknowledged it had hitherto done
his.
A man that travels, you see, my friend, and takes care to get into good
company, is always learning something.—Had I not visited the Three Kings
at Basil, I might have conversed all my lifetime without knowing the true
use of language.