“Such is the height of many of these mountains that I saw at the least two hundred of them that were ‘farre aboue’ some of the clouds!”
I was glad that Constance, which controls the mouth of its lake, has also its Reformer—John Huss—to compare with Geneva’s Calvin and Zürich’s Zwingli; they prize him all the more because they put him to death!
THE FALLS OF THE RHINE.
The Professor and I talked of all manner of things,—antiquities, Swiss history, which, except in spots, and its final results, is not very inspiring; strikes and labour-troubles, woman-suffrage, the growth of commercialism, the Swiss railways and the advantage of having them owned by the state, and education. We forgot that it rained. But the following morning the storm showed symptoms of dissolution, and the Professor and I sallied forth to see the city. Every city is worthy of a hundred books; for every city is full of human beings, or else of history, or both. Zürich has nearly two hundred thousand inhabitants and also has its history. I had seen lying on the library table a beautifully printed and well illustrated pamphlet describing the restoration of the Fraumünster, which was completed in 1912. That venerable building settles Zürich’s historic solidity. There were found in it, or rather under it, traces of the little church which was torn down in the Ninth Century to make room for the Carolingian minster, which has been so successfully repaired. We went around it and into it and the Professor pointed out to me the relics of its most ancient carvings, more or less mutilated inscriptions, grave-stones—one of them to the Ritter Berngerus von Wile, dated 1284.
“Did you know that in the Thirteenth Century when Berngerus,—I wonder if he was a bear-slayer,—when Von Wile was living in Zürich,—there was a regular school of poetry here? Heinrich Mannes, the Probst of the Abtei, who founded the Library, had charge of it. He died in 1270. Rüdiger Mannesse had a great collection of song-books, and the tests in ‘Mastersong’ were much enjoyed. Count Krafto von Toggenburg was afterwards Probst of the Abtei. It is supposed that Hadloub was his pupil. He was the nephew of Elizabeth von Wetzikon, the Fürstabtissin, who made him chaplain of St. Stephen’s outside the walls. This Elizabeth von Wetzikon’s mortuary inscription was found in the old church, but badly mutilated. The Zürich Antiquarian Society has published nearly three score of Hadloub’s poems. I read some of them. There is one that reminded me of the old English song—‘Sumer is i-kumen in—lude sing kuku.’ It begins:—
“‘Sumer hât gesendet ûz sîn Wunne;
Seht die bluomen gênt ûf dur daz gras.
Lûter klâr stêt nû der liechte sunne
Dâ der winter ê vil trûebe was.’”