Berne is the capital of the little Republic, and here its Congress meets. Its sessions last a month, as a rule, and then Congress adjourns, and the members go home. The country is too poor to have much to steal, and consequently a short session is sufficient.
I was shaved in Berne, and, speaking of shaving and barbers generally, I want to say all I have to say on that subject at once.
There is no barber like the American barber, and no such comfort anywhere in barbers as we enjoy at home. Tourists have complained of the straight chairs, the dull razors, and all that sort of thing, and with some reason, though it is not as bad as represented. I have never known of any one being absolutely killed by an European barber, either at sight or sixty days.
It is true that you do not have the luxurious reclining chair, nor the soothing manipulations of a deft artist, nor the delightful hair dressing, and all that. In England you are seated in a common, straight-backed chair, a napkin is adjusted closely about your neck, a dab of soap, three strokes of a bad razor, and you are permitted to staunch the blood and wash off the soap yourself. If you desire your hair dressed, as a very clumsy brushing is called, it is “tuppence extra.”
In France the operation is the same, only the barber, being always a statesman, talks you to the verge of madness. He knows that you do not understand a word of his language, but he talks on cheerfully just the same, till he is through, and really believes he has entertained you.
The German barber does not talk you to death, for he is by nature phlegmatic. He stays by you longer, however, and leaves less of your face to carry away than either the English or French torturer. He wants to earn his money, and he does.
The Swiss is less airy than the Frenchman, and more active than the German, for, very likely, he is of both nationalities. He is more careful, likewise. When his razor enters the flesh, he does not slice the whole side of the face off, for his time is not occupied with talk, as is the Frenchman, nor is he so heavy as the German. No, indeed! When he sees that his razor has cut through the skin, and is entering the flesh, he stops right there, and calls your attention to the fact that he has stopped, and claims some credit for not carving off a half pound or more.
BARBERS.
French, German, and Swiss allow you to wash your own face, and comb your own hair, and otherwise fix yourself, but the Swiss is the best of the three.
But even in Switzerland, it is better for the tourist if he has his own shaving material, and does it himself. He may cut and scar himself, but he will have some skin left, and may console himself that the cutting was the result of his own lack of skill, and not that of another.