Chapter 21

POPULATION. STREETS AND FOUNTAINS. CHURCHES. CONVENTS. PALACES. THEATRES. THE PRATER. THE EMPEROR'S PRIVATE LIBRARY. COLLECTION OF DUKE ALBERT. SUBURBS. MONASTERY OF CLOSTERNEUBURG. DEPARTURE FROM VIENNA.

_Vienna, September_ 18, 1818.

My dear friend;

"Extremum hunc--mihi concede laborem." In other words, I shall trouble you for the last time with an epistle from the Austrian territories: at any rate, with the last communication from the capital of the empire. Since my preceding letter, I have stirred a good deal abroad: even from breakfast until a late dinner hour. By the aid of a bright sky, and a brighter moon, I have also visited public places of entertainment; for, having completed my researches at the library, I was resolved to devote the mornings to society and sights out of doors. I have also made a pleasant day's trip to the MONASTERY of CLOSTERNEUBURG--about nine English miles from hence; and have been led into temptation by the sight of some half dozen folios of a yet more exquisite condition than almost any thing previously beheld. I have even bought sundry tomes, of monks with long bushy beards, in a monastery in the suburbs, called the ROSSAU; and might, if I had pleased, have purchased their whole library--covered with the dust and cobwebs of at least a couple of centuries.

As, in all previous letters, when arrived at a new capital, I must begin the present by giving you some account of the population, buildings, public sights, and national character of the place in which I have now tarried for the last three weeks; and which--as I think I observed at the conclusion of my _first_ letter from hence--was more characteristic of English fashions and appearances than any thing before witnessed by me ... even since my landing at Dieppe. The CITY of VIENNA may contain a population of 60,000 souls; but its SUBURBS, which are _thirty-three_ in number, and I believe the largest in Europe, contain full _three times_ that number of inhabitants.[134] This estimate has been furnished me by M. Bartsch, according to the census taken in 1815. Vienna itself contains 7150 houses; 123 palaces; and 29 Catholic parishes; 17 convents, of which three are filled by _Religieuses_; one Protestant church; one of the reformed persuasion; two churches of the united Greek faith, and one of the Greek, not united.[135] Of synagogues, I should think there must be a great number; for even _Judaism_ seems, in this city, to be a thriving and wealthy profession. Hebrew bibles and Hebrew almanacks are sufficiently common. I bought a recent impression of the former, in five crown octavo volumes, neatly bound in sheep skin, for about seven shillings of our money; and an atlas folio sheet of the latter for a penny. You meet with Jews every where: itinerant and stationary. The former, who seem to be half Jew and half Turk, are great frequenters of hotels, with boxes full of trinkets and caskets. One of this class has regularly paid me a visit every morning, pretending to have the genuine attar of roses and rich rubies to dispose of. But these were not to my taste. I learnt, however, that this man had recently married his daughter,--and boasted of having been able to give her a dowry equal to 10,000l. of our money. He is short of stature, with a strongly-expressive countenance, and a well-arranged turban--and laughs unceasingly at whatever he says himself, or is said of him.

As Vienna may be called the key of Italy, on the land side--or, speaking less figuratively, the concentrating point where Greeks, Turks, Jews, and Italians meet for the arrangement of their mercantile affairs throughout the continent of Europe--it will necessarily follow that you see a great number of individuals belonging to the respective countries from whence they migrate. Accordingly, you are constantly struck with the number and variety of characters, of this class, which you meet from about the hour of three till five. Short clokes, edged with sable or ermine, and delicately trimmed mustachios, with the throat exposed, mark the courteous Greek and Albanian. Long robes, trimmed with tarnished silver or gold, with thickly folded girdles and turbans, and beards of unrestrained growth, point out the majestic Turk. The olive-tinted visage, with a full, keen, black eye, and a costume half Greek and half Turkish, distinguish the citizen of Venice or Verona. Most of these carry pipes, of a varying length, from which volumes of fragrant smoke occasionally issue; but the exercise of smoking is generally made subservient to that of talking: while the loud laugh, or reirated reply, or, emphatic asseveration, of certain individuals in the passing throng, adds much to the general interest of the scene.

Smoking, however, is a most decidedly general characteristic of the place. Two shops out of six in some streets are filled with pipes, of which the _bowls_ exhibit specimens of the most curious and costly workmanship. The handles are generally short. A good Austrian thinks he can never pay too much for a good pipe; and the upper classes of society sometimes expend great sums in the acquisition of these objects of comfort or fashion. It was only the other evening, when, in company with my friends Messrs. G. and S., and Madame la Comtesse de------a gentleman drew forth from his pocket a short pipe, which screwed together in three divisions, and of which the upper part of the bowl--(made in the fashion of a black-a-moor's head) near the aperture--was composed of diamonds of great lustre and value. Upon enquiry, I found that this pipe was worth about 1000l. of our money!--and what surprised me yet more, was, the cool and unconcerned manner in which the owner pulled it out of a loose great-coat pocket--as if it had been a tobacco box not worth half a dozen kreutzers! Such is their love of smoking here, that, in one of their most frequented coffee-houses--where I went after dinner for a cup of coffee--the centre of the room was occupied by two billiard tables, which were surrounded by lookers on:--from the mouths of every one of whom, including even the players themselves, issued constant and pungent puffs of smoke, so as to fill the whole room with a dense cloud, which caused me instantly to retreat... as if grazed by a musket ball.

Of female society I can absolutely say little or nothing. The upper circles of society are all broken up for the gaieties of Baden. Yet, at the opera, at the Prater, and in the streets, I should say that the general appearance and manners of the females are very interesting; strongly resembling, in the former respect, those of our own country. In the streets, and in the shops, the women wear their own hair, which is generally of a light brown colour, apparently well brushed and combed, platted and twisted into graceful forms. In complexion, they are generally fair, with blue eyes; and in stature they are usually short and stout. The men are, I think, every where good-natured, obliging, and extremely anxious to pay you every attention of which you stand in need. If I could but speak the language fluently, I should quickly fancy myself in England. The French language here is less useful than the Italian, in making yourself understood.

So much for the living, or active life. Let me now direct your attention to inanimate objects; and these will readily strike you as relating to _Buildings_--in their varied characters of houses, churches and palaces. First, of the STREETS. I told you, a little before, that there are upwards of one hundred and twenty palaces, so called, in Vienna; but the truth is, almost every street may be said to be filled with palaces: so large and lofty are the houses of which they are usually composed. Sometimes a street, of a tolerable length, will contain only a dozen houses--as, for instance, that of the _Wallnerstrasse:_ at the further end of which, to the right, lives Mr.------ the second banker (Count Fries being the first) in Vienna. Some of the banking-houses have quite the air of noblemen's chateaux. It is true, that these houses, like our Inns of Court, are inhabited by different families; yet the external appearance, being uniform, and frequently highly decorated, have an exceedingly picturesque appearance. The architectural ornaments, over the doors and windows--so miserably wanting in our principal streets and squares, and of which the absence gives to Portland Place the look, at a distance, of a range of barracks--are here, yet more than at Augsbourg or Munich, boldly and sometimes beautifully managed. The _Palace of Prince Eugene_[136] in the street in which I reside, and which no Englishman ought to gaze at without emotions of pleasure--is highly illustrative of the justice of the foregoing remark. This palace is now converted into the _Mint_. The door-ways and window-frames are, generally, throughout the streets of Vienna, of a bold and pleasing architectural character. From one till three, the usual hour of dining, the streets of Vienna are stripped of their full complement of population; but from three till six; at the latter of which hours the plays and opera begin, there is a numerous and animated population. Notwithstanding the season of the year, the days have been sometimes even sultry; while over head has constantly appeared one of the bluest and brightest skies ever viewed by human eyes.

Among the most pleasing accompaniments or characteristics of street scenery, at Vienna, are the FOUNTAINS. They are very different from those at Paris; exhibiting more representations of the human figure, and less water. In the _Place_, before mentioned, is probably the most lofty and elaborate of these sculptured accompaniments of a fountain: but, in a sort of square called the _New Market_, and through which I regularly passed in my way to the Imperial Library--there is a fountain of a particularly pleasing, and, to my eye, tasteful cast of character; executed, I think, by DONNER. A large circular cistern receives the water, which is constantly flowing into it, from some one or the other of the surrounding male and female figures, of the size of life. One of these male figures, naked, is leaning over the side of the cistern, about to strike a fish, or some aquatic monster, with a harpoon or dart--while one of his legs (I think it is the right) is thrown back with a strong muscular expression, resting upon the earth--as if to balance the figure, thus leaning forward--thereby giving it an exceedingly natural and characteristic air. Upon the whole, although I am not sure that any _one_ fountain, of the character just mentioned, may equal that in the High Street at Augsbourg, yet, taken collectively, I should say that Vienna has reason to claim its equality with any other city in Europe, on the score of this most picturesque, and frequently salutary, accompaniment of street scenery. In our own country, which has the amplest means of any other in the world, of carrying these objects of public taste into execution, there seems to be an infatuation--amounting to hopeless stupidity--respecting the uniform exclusion of them.

While I am on these desultory topics, let me say a word or two respecting the _quoi vivre_ in this metropolis. There are few or no _restaurateurs_: at least, at this moment, only two of especial note.[137] I have dined at each--and very much prefer the vin du Pays, of the better sort [138]--which is red, and called _vin d'Offner_ (or some such name) to that at Paris. But the _meats_, are less choice and less curiously cooked; and I must say that the sense of smelling is not very acute with the Germans. The mutton can only be attacked by teeth of the firmest setting. The beef is always preferable in a stewed or boiled state; although at our Ambassador's table, the other day, I saw and partook of a roasted sirloin which would have done honour to either tavern in Bishopsgate-street. The veal is the _safest_ article to attack. The pastry is upon the whole relishing and good. The bread is in every respect the most nutritive and digestive which I have ever partaken of. The _fruit_, at this moment, is perfectly delicious, especially, the pears. Peaches and grapes are abundant in the streets, and exceedingly reasonable in price. Last Sunday, we dined at the palace of _Schönbrunn;_ or rather, in the suite of apartments, which were formerly servant's offices,--but which are now fitted up in a very tasteful and gay manner, for the reception of Sunday visitors: it being one of the principal fashionable places of resort on the Sabbath. We had a half boiled and half stewed fowl, beefsteak, and fritters, for dinner. The, beef was perfectly uneatable, as being entirely _gone_--but the other dishes were good and well served. The dessert made amends for all previous grievances. It consisted of peaches and grapes--just gathered from the imperial garden: the Emperor allowing his old servants (who are the owners of the taverns, and who gain a livelihood from Sunday visitors) to partake of this privilege. The choicest table at Paris or at London could not boast of finer specimens of the fruit in question. I may here add, that the _slaughter-houses_ are all in the suburbs--or, at any rate, without the ramparts. This is a good regulation; but it is horribly disgusting, at times, to observe carts going along, with the dead bodies of animals, hanging down the sides, with their heads cut off.

Of all cities in Europe, Vienna is probably the most distinguished for the excellence of its CARRIAGES of every description--and especially for its _Hackney Coaches._ I grant you, that there is nothing here comparable with our London carriages, made on the nicest principles of art: whether for springs, shape, interior accommodations, or luxury; but I am certain that, for almost every species of carriage to be obtained at London, you may purchase them _here_ at half the price. Satin linings of yellow, pink, and blue, are very prevalent ... even in their hackney coaches. These latter, are, in truth, most admirable, and of all shapes: landau, barouche, phaeton, chariot, or roomy family coach. Glass of every description, at Vienna--from the lustre that illuminates the Imperial Palace to that which is used in the theatre--is excellent; so that you are sure to have plate glass in your fiacre. The coachmen drive swiftly, and delight in rectangular turns. They often come thundering down upon you unawares, and as the streets are generally very narrow, it is difficult to secure a retreat in good time. At the corners of the streets are large stone posts, to protect the houses from the otherwise constant attrition from the wheels. The streets are paved with large stones, and the noise of the wheels, arising from the rapidity of their motion,--re-echoed by the height of the houses, is no trifling trial to nervous strangers.

Of the chief objects of architecture which decorate street scenery, there are none, to my old-fashioned eyes, more attractive and more thoroughly beautiful and interesting--from a thousand associations of ideas--than PLACES OF WORSHIP--and of course, among these, none stands so eminently conspicuous as the Mother-Church, or the CATHEDRAL, which, in this place, is dedicated to _St. Stephen_. The spire has been long distinguished for its elegance and height. Probably these are the most appropriate, if not the only, epithets of commendation which can be applied to it. After Strasbourg and Ulm, it appears a second-rate edifice. Not but what the spire may even vie with that of the former, and the nave may be yet larger than that of the latter: but, as a _whole_, it is much inferior to either--even allowing for the palpable falling off in the nave of Strasbourg cathedral. The spire, or tower--for it partakes of both characters--is indeed worthy of general admiration. It is oddly situated, being almost detached--and on the _south_ side of the building. Indeed the whole structure has a very strange, and I may add capricious, if not repulsive, appearance, as to its exterior. The western and eastern ends have nothing deserving of distinct notice or commendation. The former has a porch, which is called "_the Giant's porch_:" it should rather be designated as that of the _Dwarf_. It has no pretensions to size or striking character of any description. Some of the oldest parts of the cathedral appear to belong to the porch of the eastern end. As you walk round the church, you cannot fail to be struck with the great variety of ancient, and to an Englishman, whimsical looking mural monuments, in basso and alto relievos. Some of these are doubtless both interesting and curious.

But the spire[140] is indeed an object deserving of particular admiration. It is next to that of Strasbourg in height; being 432 feet of Vienna measurement. It may be said to begin to taper from the first stage or floor; and is distinguished for its open and sometimes intricate fretwork. About two-thirds of its height, just above the clock, and where the more slender part of the spire commences, there is a gallery or platform, to which the French quickly ascended, on their possession of Vienna, to reconnoitre the surrounding country. The very summit of the spire is bent, or inclined to the north; so much so, as to give the notion that the cap or crown will fall in a short time. As to the period of the erection of this spire, it is supposed to have been about the middle, or latter end, of the fifteenth century. It has certainly much in common with the highly ornamental gothic style of building in our own country, about the reign of Henry the VIth. The coloured glazed tiles of the roof of the church are very disagreeable and _unharmonising_. These colours are chiefly green, red, and blue. Indeed the whole roof is exceedingly heavy and tasteless. I will now conduct you to the interior. On entering, from the south-east door, you observe, to the left, a small piece of white marble--which every one touches, with the finger or thumb charged with holy water, on entering or leaving the cathedral. Such have been the countless thousands of times that this piece of marble has been so touched, that, purely, from such friction, it has been worn nearly _half an inch_ below the general surrounding surface. I have great doubts, however, if this mysterious piece of masonry be as old as the walls of the church, (which may be of the fourteenth century) which they pretend to say it is.

The first view of the interior of this cathedral, seen even at the most favourable moment--which is from about three till five o'clock--is far from prepossing. Indeed, after what I had seen at Rouen, Paris, Strasboug, Ulm, and Munich, it was a palpable disappointment. In the first place, there seems to be no grand leading feature of simplicity: add to which, darkness reigns every where. You look up, and discern no roof--not so much from its extreme height, as from the absolute want of windows. Every thing not only looks dreary, but is dingy and black--from the mere dirt and dust which seem to have covered the great pillars of the nave--and especially the figures and ornament upon it--for the last four centuries. This is the more to be regretted, as the larger pillars are highly ornamented; having human figures, of the size of life, beneath sharply pointed canopies, running up the shafts. The extreme length of the cathedral is 342 feet of Vienna measurement. The extreme width, between the tower and its opposite extremity--or the transepts--is _222_ feet.

There are comparatively few chapels; only four--but many _Bethstücke_ or _Prie-Dieus_. Of the former, the chapels of _Savoy_ and _St. Eloy_ are the chief: but the large sacristy is more extensive than either. On my first entrance, whilst attentively examining the choir, I noticed--what was really a very provoking, but probably not a very uncommon sight,--a maid servant deliberately using a long broom in sweeping the pavement of the high altar, at the moment when several very respectable people, of both sexes, were kneeling upon the steps, occupied in prayer. But the devotion of the people is incessant--all the day long,--and in all parts of the cathedral. The little altars, or _Prie-Dieus,_ seem to be innumerable. Yonder kneels an emaciated figure, before a yet more emaciated crucifix. It is a female--bending down, as it were, to the very grave. She has hardly strength to hold together her clasped hands, or to raise her downcast eye. Yet she prays--earnestly, loudly, and from the heart. Near her, kneels a group of her own sex: young, active, and ardent--as she _once_ was; and even comely and beautiful ... as she _might_ have been. They evidently belong to the more respectable classes of society--and are kneeling before a framed and glazed picture of the Virgin and Child, of which the lower part is absolutely smothered with flowers. There is a natural, and as it were well-regulated, expression of piety among them, which bespeaks a genuineness of feeling and of devotion.

Meanwhile, service is going on in all parts of the cathedral. They are singing here: they are praying there: and they are preaching in a third place. But during the whole time, I never heard one single note of the organ. I remember only the other Sunday morning--walking out beneath one of the brightest blue skies that ever shone upon man--and entering the cathedral about nine o'clock. A preacher was in the principal pulpit; while a tolerably numerous congregation was gathered around him. He preached, of course, in the German language, and used much action. As he became more and more animated, he necessarily became warmer, and pulled off a black cap--which, till then, he had kept upon his head: the zeal and piety of the congregation at the same time seeming to increase with the accelerated motions of the preacher. In other more retired parts, solitary devotees were seen--silent, and absorbed in prayer. Among these, I shall not easily forget the head and the physiognomical expression of one old man--who, having been supported by crutches, which lay by the side of him--appeared to have come for the last time to offer his orisons to heaven. The light shone full upon his bald head and elevated countenance; which latter indicated a genuineness of piety, and benevolence, of disposition, not to be soured... even by the most-bitter of worldly disappointments! It seemed as if the old man were taking leave of this life, in full confidence of the rewards which await the righteous beyond the grave. Not a creature was near him but myself;--when, on the completion of his devotions, finding that those who had attended him thither were not at hand to lead him away--he seemed to cast an asking eye of assistance upon me: nor did he look twice before that assistance was granted. I helped to raise him up; but, ere he could bring my hand in contact with his lips, to express his thankfulness--his friends ... apparently his daughter, and two grandchildren ... arrived--and receiving his benediction, quietly, steadily, and securely, led him forth from the cathedral. No pencil ... no pen ... can do justice to the entire effect of this touching picture.

So much for the living. A word or two now for the dead. Of course this latter alludes to the MONUMENTS of the more distinguished characters once resident in and near the metropolis. Among these, doubtless the most elaborate is that of the _Emperor Frederick III_.--in the florid gothic style, surmounted by a tablet, filled with coat-armour, or heraldic shields. Some of the mural monuments are very curious, and among them are several of the early part of the sixteenth century--which represent the chins and even mouths of females, entirely covered by drapery: such as is even now to be seen ...and such as we saw on descending from the Vosges; But among these monuments--both for absolute and relative antiquity--none will appear to the curious eye of an antiquary so precious as that of the head of the ARCHITECT of THE CATHEDRAL, whose name was _Pilgram._ This head is twice seen--first, on the wall of the south side aisle, a good deal above the spectator's eye, and therefore in a foreshortened manner--as the following representation of it testifies;[141]

The second representation of it is in one of the heads in the hexagonal pulpit--in the nave, and in which the preacher was holding forth as before mentioned. Some say that these heads represent one and the same person; but I was told that they were designated for those of the _master_ and _apprentice:_ the former being the apprentice, and the latter the master.

The preceding may suffice for a description of this cathedral; in which, as I before observed, there is a palpable want of simplicity and of breadth of construction. The eye wanders over a large mass of building, without being able to rest upon any thing either striking from its magnificence, or delighting by its beauty and elaborate detail. The pillars which divide the nave from the side aisles, are however excluded from this censure. There is one thing--and a most lamentable instance of depraved taste it undoubtedly is--which I must not omit mentioning. It relates to the representation of our Saviour. Whether as a painting, or as a piece of sculpture, this sacred figure is generally made most repulsive--even, in the cathedral. It is meagre in form, wretched in physiognomical expression, and marked by disgusting appearances of blood about the forehead and throat. In the church of _St. Mary_, supposed to be the oldest in Vienna, as you enter the south door, to the left, there is a whole length standing figure of Christ--placed in an obscure niche--of which the part, immediately under the chin, is covered with red paint, in disgusting imitation of blood: as if the throat had been recently cut,--and patches of paint, to represent drops of blood, are also seen upon the feet!

In regard to other churches, that of _St. Mary_, supposed to be, in part, as old as the XIIIth century, has one very great curiosity, decidedly worthy of notice. It is a group on the outside, as you enter a door in a passage or court--through which the whole population of Vienna should seem to pass in the course of the day. This group, or subject, represents our _Saviour's Agony in the garden of Gethsemane_: the favourite subject of representation throughout Austria. In the foreground, the figure of Christ, kneeling, is sufficiently conspicuous. Sometimes a handkerchief is placed between the hands, and sometimes not. His disciples are asleep by the side of him. In the middle ground, the soldiers, headed by Judas Iscariot, are leaping over the fence, and entering the garden to seize him: in the back ground, they are leading him away to Caiphas, and buffeting him in the route. These latter groups are necessarily diminutive. The whole is cut in stone--I should think about three centuries ago--and painted after the life. As the people are constantly passing along, you observe, every now and then, some devout citizen dropping upon his knee, and repeating a hurried prayer before the figure of Christ.

The _Church of the Augustins_ is near at hand; and the contents of _that_ church are, to my taste and feelings, more precious than any of which Vienna may boast. I allude to the famous monument erected to the memory of the wife of the present venerable DUKE ALBERT OF SAXE TESCHEN. It is considered to be the chef d'oeuvre of CANOVA; and with justice. The church of the Augustins laying directly in my way to the Imperial Library, I think I may safely say that I used, two mornings out of three, to enter it--on purpose to renew my acquaintance with the monument in question. My admiration increased upon every such renewal. Take it, all in all, I can conceive nothing in art to go beyond it. It is alone worth a pilgrimage to Vienna: nor will I from henceforth pine about what has perished from the hand of Phidias or Praxiteles--it is sufficient that this monument remains... from the chisel of CANOVA.

I will describe it briefly, and criticise it with the same freedom which I used towards the _Madonna_ of the same sculptor, in the collection of the Marquis de Sommariva at Paris.[142] At the time of my viewing it, a little after ten o'clock, the organ was generally playing--and a very fine chant was usually being performed: rather soft, tender, and impressive--than loud and overwhelming. I own that, by a thousand associations of ideas, (which it were difficult to describe) this coincidence helped to give a more solemn effect to the object before me. You enter a door, immediately opposite to it--and no man of taste can view it, unexpectedly, for the first time, without standing still ... the very moment it meets his eyes! This monument, which is raised about four feet above the pavement, and is encircled by small iron palisades--at a distance just sufficient to afford every opportunity of looking correctly at each part of it--consists of several figures, in procession, which are about to enter an opened door, at the base of a pyramid of gray marble. Over the door is a medallion, in profile, of the deceased... supported by an angel. To the right of the door is a huge lion couchant, asleep. You look into the entrance ... and see nothing ... but darkness: neither boundary nor termination being visible. To the right, a young man--resting his arm upon the lion's mane, is looking upwards, with an intensity of sorrowful expression. This figure is naked; and represents the protecting genius of the afflicted husband. To the left of the door, is the moving procession. One tall majestic female figure, with dishevelled hair, and a fillet of gold round her brow, is walking with a slow, measured step, embracing the urn which contains the ashes of the deceased. Her head is bending down, as if her tears were mingling with the contents of the urn. The drapery of this figure is most elaborate and profuse, and decorated with wreaths of flowers. Two children--symbolical, I suppose, of innocence and purity--walk by her side ... looking upwards, and scattering flowers. In the rear, appear three figures, which are intended to represent the charitable character of the deceased. Of these, two are eminently conspicuous ... namely, an old man leaning upon the arm of a young woman ... illustrative of the bounty and benevolence of the Duchess:--and intended to represent her liberality and kind-heartedness, equally in the protection of the old and feeble, as in that of the orphan and helpless young. The figures are united, as it were, by a youthful female, with a wreath of flowers; with which, indeed the ground is somewhat profusely strewn: so as, to an eye uninitiated in ancient costume, to give the subject rather a festive character. The whole is of the size of life.[143]

Such is the mere dry descriptive detail of this master-piece of the art of CANOVA. I now come to a more close and critical survey of it; and will first observe upon what appear to me to be the (perhaps venial) defects of this magnificent monument. In the first place, I could have wished the medallion of the duchess and the supporting angel--_elsewhere_. It is a common-place, and indeed, here, an irrelevant ornament. The deceased has passed into eternity. The apparently interminable excavation into which the figures are about to move, helps to impress your mind with this idea. The duchess is to be thought of ... or seen, in the mind's eye... as an inhabitant of _another world_ ... and therefore not to be brought to your recollection by a common-place representation of her countenance in profile--as an inhabitant of _earth._ Besides, the chief female figure or mourner, about to enter the vault, is carrying her ashes in an urn: and I own it appears to me to be a little incongruous--or, at least, a little defective in that pure classical taste which the sculptor unquestionably possesses,--to put, what may be considered visible and invisible--or tangible and intangible--representations of the _same_ person before you at the _same_ time. If a representation of the figure of the duchess be necessary, it should not be in the form of a medallion. The pyramidal back-ground would doubtless have had a grander effect without it.

The lion is also, to me, an objectionable subject. If allegory be necessary, it should be pure, and not mixed. If a _human figure_, at one end of the group, be considered a fit representation of benevolence ... the notion or idea meant to be conveyed by a _lion_, at the other end, should not be conveyed by the introduction of an animal. Nor is it at all obvious--supposing an animal to be necessary--to understand why a lion, who may be considered as placed there to guard the entrance of the pyramid, should be represented _asleep?_ If he be sympathising with the general sorrow, he should not be sleeping; for acute affliction rarely allows of slumber. If his mere object be to guard the entrance, by sleeping he shews himself to be unworthy of trust. In a word, allegory, always bad in itself, should not be _mixed_; and we naturally ask what business lions and human beings have together? Or, we suppose that the females in view have well strung nerves to walk thus leisurely with a huge lion--even sleeping--in front of them!

The human figures are indeed delightful to contemplate. Perfect in form, in attitude, and expression, they proclaim the powers of a consummate master. A fastidious observer might indeed object to the bold, muscular strength of the old man--as exhibited in his legs and arms--and as indicative of the maturity, rather than of the approaching extinction, of life ... but what sculptor, in the representation of such subjects, can resist the temptation of displaying the biceps and gastrocnemian muscles? The countenances are all exquisite: all full of nature and taste... with as little introduction, as may be, of Grecian art. To my feelings, the figure of the young man--to the right of the lion--is the most exquisitely perfect. His countenance is indeed heavenly; and there is a play and harmony in the position and demarcation of his limbs, infinitely beyond any thing which I can presume to put in competition with it. In every point of view, in which I regarded this figure, it gained upon my admiration; and on leaving the church, for the last time, I said within myself--"if I have not seen the _Belvedere Apollo_, I have again and again viewed the monument to the memory of the _Duchess Albert of Saxe-Teschen_, by CANOVA... and I am satisfied to return to England in consequence."

From churches we will walk together to CONVENTS. Here are only two about which I deem it necessary to give you any description; and these are, the _Convent of the Capuchins_, near the new Market Place, and that of the _Franciscans_, near the street in which I lodge. The former is tenanted by long-bearded monks. On knocking at the outer gate, the door was opened by an apparently middle-aged man, upon whose long silvery, and broad-spreading beard, the light seemed to dart down with a surprisingly, picturesque effect. Behind him was a dark cloister; or at least, a cloister very partially illumined--along which two younger monks were pacing in full costume. The person who opened the outward door proved to be the _porter_. He might, from personal respectability, and amplitude of beard, have been the _President_. On my servant's telling him our object was to view the IMPERIAL TOMBS, which are placed in a vault in this monastery, he disappeared; and we were addressed by a younger person, with a beard upon a comparatively diminutive scale, and with the top of his hair very curiously cut in a circular form. He professed his readiness to accompany us immediately into the receptacle of departed imperial grandeur. He spoke Latin with myself, and his vernacular tongue with the valet. I was soon satisfied with the sepulchral spectacle. As a whole, it has a poor and even disagreeable effect: if you except one or two tombs, such as those of _Francis I_. Emperor of the Romans, and _Maria Theresa_--which latter is the most elaborately ornamented of the whole: but it wants both space and light to be seen effectually, and is moreover I submit, in too florid a style of decoration. Like the generality of them, it is composed of bronze. The tombs of the earlier Emperors of Germany lie in a long and gloomy narrow recess--where little light penetrates, and where there is little space for an accurate examination. I should call them rather _coffin-shells_ than monuments. When I noticed the tomb of the Emperor Joseph II. to my guide, he seemed hardly to vouchsafe a glance at it ... adding, "yes, he is well known every where!" They rather consider him (from the wholesale manner in which the monasteries and convents were converted by him to civil purposes) as a sort of _softened-down Henry VIII_. Upon the whole, the living interested me more than the dead ... in this gloomy retirement ... notwithstanding these vaults are said to contain very little short of fourscore tombs of departed Emperors and Monarchs.

The MONASTERY OF THE FRANCISCANS is really an object worth visiting ... if it be only to convince you of the comfort and happiness of ... _not_ being a _Franciscan monk._ I went thither several times, and sauntered in the cloisters of the quadrangle. An intelligent middle-aged woman--a sort of housekeeper of the establishment--who conversed with me pretty fluently in the French language, afforded me all the information which I was desirous of possessing. She said she had nothing to do with the kitchen, or dormitories of the monks. They cooked their own meat, and made their own beds. You see these monks constantly walking about the streets, and even entering the hotels. They live chiefly upon alms. They are usually bare-headed, and bare-footed--with the exception of sandals. Their dress is a thick brown cloak, with a cowl hanging behind in a peaked point: the whole made of the coarsest materials. They have no beards--and yet, altogether, they have a very squalid and dirty appearance. It was towards eight o'clock, when I walked for the first time, in the cloisters; and there viewed, amongst other mural decorations, an oil painting--in which several of their order are represented as undergoing martyrdom--by hanging, and severing their limbs. It was a horrid sight ... and yet the _living_ was not very attractive.

Although placed in the very heart of the metropolis of their country, this Franciscan fraternity appears to be insensible of every comfort of society. To their palate, nothing seems to be so sweet as the tainted morsel upon the trencher--and to their ear, no sound more grateful than the melancholy echo, from the tread of their own cloister. Every thing, which so much pleased and gratified me in the great Austrian monasteries of CHREMSMINSTER, ST. FLORIAN, MÕLK, and GÕTTWIC, would, in such an atmosphere, and in such a tenement as the Franciscan monastery here, have been chilled, decomposed, and converted into the very reverse of all former and cheerful impressions. No walnut-tree shelved libraries: no tier upon tier of clasp and knob-bound folios: no saloon, where the sides are emblazoned by Salzburg marble; and no festive board, where the watchful seneschal never allows the elongated glass to remain five minutes unreplenished by Rhenish wine of the most exquisite flavour! None of these, nor of any thing even remotely approximating to them, were to be witnessed, or partaken of, in the dreary abode of monachism which I have just described.

You will be glad to quit such a comfortless residence; and I am equally impatient with yourself to view more agreeable sights. Having visited the tombs of departed royalty, let us now enter the abodes--or rather PALACES--of _living_ imperial grandeur. I have already told you that Vienna, on the first glance of the houses, looks like a city of palaces; those buildings, which are professedly _palatial_, being indeed of a glorious extent and magnificence. And yet--it seems strange to make the remark ... will you believe me when I say, that, of the various palaces, or large mansions visited by me, that of the EMPEROR is the least imposing--as a whole? The front is very long and lofty; but it has a sort of architectural tameness about it, which gives it rather the air of the residence of the Lord Chamberlains than of their regal master. Yet the _Saloon_, in this palace, must not be passed over in silence. It merits indeed warm commendation. The roof, which is of an unusual height, is supported by pillars in imitation of polished marble ... but why are they not marble _itself_? The prevailing colour is white--perhaps to excess; but the number and quality of the looking glasses, lustres, and chandeliers, strike you as the most prominent features of this interior. I own that, for pure, solid taste, I greatly preferred the never-to-be-forgotten saloon in the monastery of St. Florian.[144] The rooms throughout the palaces are rather comfortable than gorgeous--if we except the music and ball rooms. Some scarlet velvet, of scarce and precious manufacture, struck me as exceedingly beautiful in one of the principal drawing rooms. I saw here a celebrated statue of a draped female, sitting, the workmanship of Canova. It is worthy of the chisel of the master. As to paintings, there are none worth description on the score of the old masters. Every thing of this kind seems to be concentrated in the palace of the Belvedere.

To the BELVEDERE PALACE, therefore, let us go. I visited it with Mr. Lewis--taking our valet with us, immediately after breakfast--on one of the finest and clearest-skied September mornings that ever shone above the head of man. We had resolved to take the _Ambras_, or the LITTLE BELVEDERE, in our way; and to have a good, long, and uninterrupted view of the wonders of art--in a variety of departments. Both the little Belvedere and the large Belvedere rise gradually above the suburbs; and the latter may be about a mile and a half from the ramparts of the city. The _Ambras_ contains a quantity of ancient horse and foot armour; brought thither from a chateau of that name, near Inspruck, and built by the Emperor Charles V. Such a collection of old armour--which had once equally graced and protected the bodies of their wearers, among whom, the noblest names of which Germany can boast may be enrolled--was infinitely gratifying to me. The sides of the first room were quite embossed with suspended shields, cuirasses, and breast-plates. The floor was almost filled by champions on horseback--yet poising the spear, or holding it in the rest--yet _almost_ shaking their angry plumes, and pricking the fiery sides of their coursers. Here rode Maximilian--and there halted Charles his Son. Different suits of armour, belonging to the same character, are studiously shewn you by the guide: some of these are the foot, and some the horse, armour: some were worn in fight--yet giving evidence of the mark of the bullet and battle axe: others were the holiday suits of armour ... with which the knights marched in procession, or tilted at the tournament. The workmanship of the full-dress suits, in which a great deal of highly wrought gold ornament appears, is sometimes really exquisite.

The second, or long room, is more particularly appropriated to the foot or infantry armour. In this studied display of much that is interesting from antiquity, and splendid from absolute beauty and costliness, I was particularly gratified by the sight of the armour which the Emperor Maximilian wore as a foot-captain. The lower part, to defend the thighs, consists of a puckered or plated steel-petticoat, sticking out at the bottom of the folds, considerably beyond the upper part. It is very simple, and of polished steel. A fine suit of armour--of black and gold--worn by an Archbishop of Salzburg in the middle of the fifteenth century, had particular claims upon my admiration. It was at once chaste and effective. The mace was by the side of it. This room is also ornamented by trophies taken from the Turks; such as bows, spears, battle-axes, and scymitars. In short, the whole is full of interest and splendor. I ought to have seen the ARSENAL--which I learn is of uncommon magnificence; and, although not so curious on the score of antiquity, is yet not destitute of relics of the old warriors of Germany. Among these, those which belonged to my old bibliomaniacal friend Corvinus, King of Hungary, cut a conspicuous and very respectable figure. I fear it will be now impracticable to see the Arsenal as it ought to be seen.

It is now approaching mid-day, and we are walking towards the terrace in front of the GREAT BELVEDERE PALACE: built by the immortal EUGENE in the year 1724, as a summer residence. Probably no spot could have been selected with better judgment for the residence of a Prince--who wished to enjoy, almost at the same moment, the charms of the country with the magnificence of a city view... unclouded by the dense fumes which for ever envelope our metropolis. It is in truth a glorious situation. Walking along its wide and well cultivated terraces, you obtain the finest view imaginable of the city of Vienna. Indeed it may be called a picturesque view. The spire of the cathedral darts directly upwards, as it were, to the very heavens. The ground before you, and in the distance, is gently undulating; and the intermediate portion of the suburbs does not present any very offensive protrusions. More in the distance, the windings of the Danube are seen; with its various little islands, studded with hamlets and fishing huts, lighted up by a sun of unusual radiance. Indeed the sky, above the whole of this rich and civilized scene, was, at the time of our viewing it, almost of a dazzling hue: so deep and vivid a tint we had never before beheld. Behind the palace, in the distance, you observe a chain of mountains which extends into Hungary. As to the building itself, I must say that it is perfectly _palatial_; in its size, form, ornaments, and general effect. He must be fastidious indeed, who could desire a nobler residence for the most illustrious character in the kingdom!

Among the treasures, which it contains, it is now high time to enter and to look about us. Yet what am I attempting?--to be your _cicerone_ ... in every apartment, covered with canvas or pannel, upon which colours of all hues, are seen from the bottom to the top of the palace!? It cannot be. My account, therefore, is necessarily a mere sketch. RUBENS, if any artist, seems here to "rule and reign without control!" Two large rooms are filled with his productions; besides several other pictures, by the same hand, which are placed in different apartments. Here it is that you see verified the truth of Sir Joshua's remark upon that wonderful artist: namely, that his genius seems to expand with the size of his canvas. His pencil absolutely riots here--in the most luxuriant manner--whether in the majesty of an altarpiece, in the gaiety of a festive scene [145], or in the sobriety of portrait-painting. His _Ignatius Loyola_ and _St. Francis Xavier_--of the former class--each seventeen feet high, by nearly thirteen wide--are stupendous productions ... in more senses than one. The latter is, indeed, in my humble judgment, the most marvellous specimen of the powers of the painter which I have ever seen... and you must remember that both England and France are not without some of his most celebrated productions--which I have frequently examined.

In the _old German School_, the series is almost countless: and of the greatest possible degree of interest and curiosity. Here are to be seen _Wohlgemuths, Albert Durers,_ both the _Holbeins, Lucas Cranachs, Ambergaus,_ and _Burgmairs_ of all sizes and degrees of merit. Among these ancient specimens--which are placed in curious order, in the very upper suite of apartments, and of which the back-grounds of several, in one solid coat of gilt, lighten up the room like a golden sunset--you must not fail to pay particular attention to a singularly curious old subject--representing the _Life, Miracles, and Passion of our Saviour_, in a series of one hundred and fifty-eight pictures--of which the largest is nearly three feet square, and every other about fifteen inches by ten. These subjects are painted upon eighty-six small pieces of wood; of which seventy-two are contained in six folding cabinets, each cabinet holding twelve subjects. In regard to _Teniers, Gerard Dow, Mieris, Wouvermann,_ and _Cuyp_ ... you must look _at home_ for more exquisite specimens. This collection contains, in the whole, not fewer than FIFTEEN HUNDRED PAINTINGS: of which the greater portion consists of pictures of very large dimensions. I could have lived here for a month; but could only move along with the hurried step, and yet more hurrying eye, of an ordinary visitor[146].

About three English miles from the Great Belvedere--or rather about the same number of miles from Vienna, to the right, as you approach the Capital--is the famous palace of SCHÖNBRUNN. This is a sort of summer-residence of the Emperor; and it is here that his daughter, the ex-Empress of France, and the young Bonaparte usually reside. The latter never goes into Italy, when his mother, as Duchess of Parma, pays her annual visit to her principality. At this moment her Son is at Baden, with the court. It was in the Schönbrunn palace that his father, on the conquest of Vienna, used to take up his abode; rarely, venturing into the city. He was surely safe enough here; as every chamber and every court yard was filled by the élite of his guard--whether as officers or soldiers. It is a most magnificent pile of building: a truly imperial residence--but neither the furniture nor the objects of art, whether connected with sculpture or painting, are deserving of any thing in the shape of a _catalogue raisonné_. I saw the chamber where young Bonaparte frequently passes the day; and brandished his flag staff, and beat upon his drum. He is a soldier (as they tell me) every inch of him; and rides out, through the streets of Vienna, in a carriage of state drawn by four or six horses, receiving the _homages_ of the passing multitude.

To return to the SCHÖNBRUNN PALACE. I have already told you that it is vast, and capable of accommodating the largest retinue of courtiers. It is of the _Gardens_ belonging to them, that I would now only wish to say a word. These gardens are really worthy of the residence to which they are attached. For what is called ornamental, formal, gardening--enriched by shrubs of rarity, and trees of magnificence--enlivened by fountains--adorned by sculpture--and diversified by vistos, lawns, and walks--interspersed with grottos and artificial ruins--you can conceive nothing upon a grander scale than these: while a menagerie in one place (where I saw a large but miserably wasted elephant)--a flower garden in another--a labyrinth in a third, and a solitude in a fourth place--each, in its turn; equally beguiles the hour and the walk. They are the most spacious gardens I ever witnessed.

The preceding is all I can tell you, from actual observation, about the

PALACES at Vienna. Those of the Noblesse, with the exception of that of Duke Albert, I have not visited; as I learn that the families are from home--and that the furniture is not arranged in the order in which one could wish it to be for the purpose of inspection or admiration. But I must not omit saying a word or two about the TREASURY--where the Court Jewels and Regalia are kept and where curious clocks and watches, of early Nuremburg manufacture, will not fail to strike and astonish the antiquary. But there are other objects, of a yet more powerful attraction: particularly a series of _crowns_ studded with gems and precious stones, from the time of Maximilian downwards. If I remember rightly, they shewed me here the crown which that famous Emperor himself wore. It is, comparatively, plain, ponderous, and massive. Among the more modern regal ornaments, I was shewn a precious diamond which fastened the cloak of the Emperor or Empress (I really forget which) on the day of coronation. It is large, oval-shaped, and, in particular points of view, seemed to flash a dazzling radiance throughout the room.

It was therefore with a _refreshing_ sort of delight that I turned from "the wealth of either Ind" to feast upon a set of old china, upon which the drawings are said to have been furnished by the pencil of Raffaelle. I admit that this is a sort of _suspicious_ object of art: in other words, that, if all the old china, _said_ to be ornamented by the pencil of Raffaelle, were really the production of that great man, he could have done nothing else but paint upon baked earth from his cradle to his grave--and all the _oil paintings_ by him _must_ be spurious. The present, however, having been presented by the Pope, may be safely allowed to be genuine. In this suite of apartments--filled, from one extremity to the other, with all that is gay, and gorgeous, and precious, appertaining to royalty--I was particularly struck with the insignia of regality belonging to Bonaparte as King of Rome. It was a crown, sceptre, and robe--of which the two former were composed of metal, like brass--but of a form particularly chaste and elegant. There is great facility of access afforded for a sight of these valuable treasures, and I was surprised to find myself in a crowd of visitors at the outer door, who, upon gaining entrance, rushed forward in a sort of scrambling manner, and spread themselves in various directions about the apartment. Upon seeing one of the guides, I took him aside, and asked him in a quiet manner "what was done with all these treasures when the French visited their capital?" He replied quickly, and emphatically, "they were taken away, and safely lodged in the Emperor's Hungarian dominions."

You may remember that the conclusion of my last letter left me just about to start to witness an entertainment called _Der Berggeist_, or the _Genius of the Mountain;_ and that, in the opening of this letter, I almost made boast of the gaiety of my evening amusements. In short, for a man fond of music--and in the country of GLUCK, MOZART and HAYDN--_not_ to visit the theatres, where a gratification of this sort, in all the perfection and variety of its powers, is held forth, might be considered a sort of heresy hardly to be pardoned. Accordingly, I have seen _Die Zauberflöte, Die Hochzeit des Figaro_, and _Don Giovanni:_ the two former quite enchantingly performed--but the latter greatly inferior to the representation of it at our own Opera House. The band, although less numerous than ours, seems to be perfect in every movement of the piece. You hear, throughout, a precision, clearness, and brilliancy of touch--together with a facility of execution, and fulness of instrumental tone--which almost impresses you with the conviction that the performers were _born_ musicians. The principal opera house, or rather that in which the principal singers are engaged, is near the palace, and is called _Im Theater nächst dem Kärnthnerthoc_. Here I saw the _Marriage of Figaro_ performed with great spirit and éclat. A young lady, a new performer of the name, of _Wranizth_, played Susannah in a style exquisitely naïve and effective. She was one of the most natural performers I ever saw; and her voice seemed to possess equal sweetness and compass. She is a rising favourite, and full of promise. Madame _Hönig_ played Mazelline rather heavily, and sung elaborately, but scientifically. The Germans are good natured creatures, and always prefer commendation to censure. Hence the plaudits with which these two rival syrens were received.

The other, opera house, which is in the suburbs, and called _Schauspielhause_, is by much the larger and more commodious place of entertainment. I seized with avidity the first opportunity of seeing the _Zauberflöte_ here, and here also I saw Don Giovanni: the former as perfectly, in every respect, as the latter was inefficiently, performed. But here I saw the marvellous ballet, or afterpiece, called _Die Berggeist_; and I will tell you why I think it marvellous. It is entirely performed by children of all ages--from three to sixteen--with the exception of the venerable-bearded old gentleman, who is called the _Genius of the Mountain_. The author of the piece or ballet "von herrn Ballet-meister"--is _Friedrich Horschelt:_ who, if in such a department or vocation in society a man may be said (and why should he not?) to "deserve well of his country," is, I think, eminently entitled to that distinction. The truth is, that, all the little rogues (I do not speak literally) whom we saw before us upon the stage--and who amount to nearly one hundred and twenty in number--were absolutely beggar-children, and the offspring of beggars, or of the lowest possible classes in society. They earned a livelihood by the craft of asking alms. Mr. Horschelt conceived the plan of converting these hapless little vagabonds into members of some honest and useful calling. He saw an active little match girl trip across the street, and solicit alms in a very winning and even graceful manner--"that shall be my _columbine_," said he:--and she was so. A young lad of a sturdy form, and sluggish movement, is converted into a _clown_: a slim youth is made to personate _harlequin_--and thus he forms and puts into action the different characters of his entertainment... absolutely and exclusively out of the very lowest orders of society.

To witness what these metamorphosed little creatures perform, is really to witness a miracle. Every thing they do is in consonance with a well-devised and well-executed plot. The whole is in harmony. They perform characters of different classes; sometimes allegorical, as præternatural beings--sometimes real, as rustics at one moment, and courtiers at another--but whether as fairies, or attendants upon goddesses--and whether the dance be formal or frolicksome--whether in groups of many, or in a pas de deux, or pas seul--they perform with surprising accuracy and effect. The principal performer, who had really been the little match girl above described, and who might have just turned her sixteenth year--would not have disgraced the boards of the Paris opera--at a moment, even, when Albert and Bigotini were engaged upon them. I never witnessed any thing more brilliant and more perfect than she was in all her evolutions and pirouettes. Nor are the lads behind hand in mettle and vigorous movement. One boy, about fourteen, almost divided the plaudits of the house with the fair nymph just mentioned--who, during the evening, had equally shone as a goddess, a queen, a fairy, and a columbine. The emperor of Austria, who is an excellent good man--and has really the moral welfare of his people at heart--was at first a little fearful about the _effect_ of this early metamorphosis of his subjects into actors and actresses; but he learnt, upon careful enquiry, that these children, when placed out in the world--as they generally are before seventeen, unless they absolutely prefer the profession in which they have been engaged--generally turn out to be worthy and good members of society. Their salaries are fixed and moderate, and thus superfluous wealth does not lead them into temptation.

On the conclusion of the preceding piece, the stage was entirely filled by the whole juvenile _Corps Dramatique_--perhaps amounting to about one hundred and twenty in number. They were divided into classes, according to size, dress, and talent. After a succession of rapid evolutions, the whole group moved gently to the sound of soft music, while masses of purple tinted clouds descended, and alighted about them. Some were received into the clouds--which were then lifted up--and displayed groups of the smallest children upon their very summits, united by wreaths of roses; while the larger children remained below. The entire front of the stage, up to the very top, was occupied by the most extraordinary and most imposing sight I ever beheld--and as the clouds carried the whole of the children upwards, the curtain fell, and the piece concluded. On its conclusion, the audience were in a perfect frenzy of applause, and demanded the author to come forward and receive the meed of their admiration. He quickly obeyed their summons--and I was surprised, when I saw him, at the youthfulness of his appearance, the homeliness of his dress, and the simplicity of his manners. He thrice bowed to the audience, laying his hand the same number of times upon his heart. I am quite sure that, if he were to come to London, and institute the same kind of exhibition, he would entirely fill Drury Lane or Covent Garden--as I saw the _Schauspielhause_ filled--with parents and children from top to bottom.

But a truce to _in-door_ recreations. You are longing, no doubt, to scent the evening breeze along the banks of the PRATER, or among the towering elms of the AUGARTEN--both public places of amusement within about a league of the ramparts of the city. It was the other Sunday evening when I visited the Prater, and when--as the weather happened to be very fine--it was considered to be full: but the absence of the court, and of the noblesse, necessarily gave a less joyous and splendid aspect to the carriages and their attendant liveries. In your way to this famous place of sabbath evening promenade, you pass a celebrated coffee house, in the suburbs, called the _Leopoldstadt_, which goes by the name of the _Greek coffee-house_--on account of its being almost entirely frequented by Greeks--so numerous at Vienna. Do not pass it, if you should ever come hither, without entering it--at least _once_. You would fancy yourself to be in Greece: so thoroughly characteristic are the countenances, dresses, and language of every one within.

But yonder commences the procession ... of horse and foot: of cabriolets, family coaches, german waggons, cars, phaetons, and landaulets ... all moving in a measured manner, within their prescribed ranks, towards the PRATER. We must accompany them without loss of time. You now reach the Prater. It is an extensive flat, surrounded by branches of the Danube, and planted on each side with double rows of horse chesnut trees. The drive, in one straight line, is probably a league in length. It is divided by two roads, in one of which the company move _onward_, and in the other they _return_. Consequently, if you happen to find a hillock only a few feet high, you may, from thence, obtain a pretty good view of the interminable procession of the carriages before mentioned: one current of them, as it were, moving forward, and another rolling backward. But, hark!--the notes of a harp are heard to the left ... in a meadow, where the foot passengers often digress from the more formal tree-lined promenade. A press of ladies and gentlemen is quickly seen. You mingle involuntarily with them: and, looking forward, you observe a small stage erected, upon which a harper sits and two singers stand. The company now lie down upon the grass, or break into standing groups, or sit upon chairs hired for the occasion--to listen to the notes so boldly and so feelingly executed.[147] The clapping of hands, and exclamations of bravo! succeed: and the sounds of applause, however warmly bestowed, quickly die away in the open air. The performers bow: receive a few kreutschers ... retire; and are well satisfied.

The sound of the trumpet is now heard behind you. Tilting feats are about to be performed: the coursers snort and are put in motion: their hides are bathed in sweat beneath their ponderous housings; and the blood, which flows freely from the pricks of their riders' spurs, shews you with what earnestness the whole affair is conducted. There, the ring is thrice carried off at the point of the lance. Feats of horsemanship follow in a covered building, to the right; and the juggler, conjurer, or magician, displays his dexterous feats, or exercises his potent spells ... in a little amphitheatre of trees, at a distance beyond. Here and there rise more stately edifices, as theatres ... from the doors of which a throng of heated spectators is pouring out, after having indulged their grief or joy at the Mary Stuart of Schiller, or the----of----.. In other directions, booths, stalls, and tables are fixed; where the hungry eat, the thirsty drink, and the merry-hearted indulge in potent libations. The waiters are in a constant state of locomotion. Rhenish wine sparkles here; confectionary glitters there; and fruit looks bright and tempting in a third place. No guest turns round to eye the company; because he is intent upon the luxuries which invite his immediate attention--or he is in close conversation with an intimate friend, or a beloved female. They talk and laugh,--and the present seems to be the happiest moment of their lives.

All is gaiety and good humour. You return again to the foot-promenade, and look sharply about you, as you move onward, to catch the spark of beauty, or admire the costume of taste, or confess the power of expression. It is an Albanian female who walks yonder ... wondering, and asking questions, at every thing she sees. The proud Jewess, supported by her husband and father, moves in another direction. She is covered with brocade and flaunting ribbands; but she is abstracted from every thing around her ... because her eyes are cast downwards upon her stomacher, or sideways to obtain a glimse of what may be called her spangled epaulettes. Her eye is large and dark: her nose is aquiline: her complexion is of an olive brown: her stature is majestic, her dress is gorgeous, her gait is measured--and her demeanour is grave and composed. "She _must_ be very rich," you say--as she passes on. "She is _prodigiously_ rich," replies the friend, to whom you put the question:--for seven virgins, with nosegays of choicest flowers, held up her bridal train; and the like number of youths, with silver-hilted swords, and robes of ermine and satin, graced the same bridal ceremony. Her father thinks he can never do enough for her; and her husband, that he can never love her sufficiently.

Whether she be happy or not, in consequence, we have no time to stop to enquire ... for, see yonder! three "turbaned Turks" make their advances. How gaily, how magnificently they are attired! What finely proportioned limbs--what beautifully formed features! They have been carousing, peradventure, with some young Greeks--who have just saluted them, en passant--at the famous coffee-house before-mentioned. Every thing around you is novel and striking; while the verdure of the trees and lawns is yet fresh, and the sun does not seem yet disposed to sink below the horizon. The carriages still move on, and return, in measured procession. Those who are within, look earnestly from the windows--to catch a glance of their passing friends. The fair hand is waved here; the curiously-painted fan is shaken there; and the repeated nod is seen in almost every other passing landaulet. Not a heart seems sad; not a brow appears to be clouded with care.

Such--or something like the foregoing--is the scene which usually passes on a Sunday evening--perhaps six months out of the twelve--upon the famous PRATER at Vienna; while the tolling bell of St. Stephen's tower, about nine o'clock--and the groups of visitors hurrying back, to get home before the gates of the city are shut against them--usually conclude the scene just described.

And now, my good friend, methinks I have given you a pretty fair account of the more prominent features of this city--in regard to its public sights; whether as connected with still or active life: as churches, palaces, or theatres. It remains, therefore, to return again, briefly, but yet willingly, to the subject of BOOKS; or rather, to the notice of two _Private Collections,_ especially deserving of description--and of which, the first is that of the EMPEROR HIMSELF.

His Majesty's collection of Books and Prints is kept upon the second and third floors of a portion of the building connected with the great Imperial library. Mr. T. YOUNG is the librarian; and he also holds the honourable office of being Secretary of his Majesty's privy council. He is well deserving of both situations, for he fills them with ability and success. He has the perfect appearance of an Englishman, both in figure and face. As he speaks French readily and perfectly well, our interviews have been frequent, and our conversations such as have led me to think that we shall not easily forget each other. But for the library, of which he is the guardian. It is contained in three or four rooms of moderate dimensions, and has very much the appearance of an English Country Gentleman's collection of about 10,000 volumes. The bindings are generally in good taste: in full-gilt light and gray calf--with occasional folios and quartos resplendent in morocco and gold. I hardly know when I have seen a more cheerful and comfortable looking library; and was equally gratified to find such a copious sprinkling of publications from Old England.

But my immediate, and indeed principal object, was, a list of a few of the _Rarities_ of the Emperor's private collection, as well in ms. as in print. Mr. Young placed before me much that was exquisite and interesting in the former, and splendid and creditable in the latter, department. He begged of me to judge with my own eyes, and determine for myself; and he would then supply me with a list of what he considered to be most valuable and splendid in the collection. Accordingly, what here ensues, must be considered as the united descriptions of my guide and myself:--Mr. Young having composed his memoranda in the Latin language. First, of the MANUSCRIPTS. The _Gospels;_ a vellum folio:--with illuminated capitals, and thirteen larger paintings, supposed to be of the thirteenth--but I suspect rather of the fourteenth--century. A _Breviary ... "for the use of Charles the Bold, Duke of Burgundy_" This vellum MS. is of the fifteenth century, and was executed for the distinguished character to whom it is expressly dedicated. This is really an elegant volume: written in the gothic character of the period, and sprinkled with marginal and capital initial decorations. Here are--as usual in works of this kind, executed for princes and great men--divers illuminations of figures of saints, of which there are three of larger size than the rest: and, of these three, one is eminently interesting, as exhibiting a small portrait of DUKE CHARLES himself, kneeling before his tutelary saint.

Here is an exceedingly pretty octavo volume of _Hours,_ of the fifteenth century, fresh and sparkling in its illuminations, with marginal decorations of flowers, monsters, and capriccios. It is in the binding of the time--the wood, covered with gilt ornaments. _Office of the Virgin:_ a neat vellum MS. of the fourteenth century--with ornamented capital initials and margins, and about two dozen of larger illuminations. But the chief attraction of this MS. arises from the text having been written by four of the most celebrated Princesses of the House of Austria, whose names are inscribed in the first fly leaf.

Here is a "_Boccace des Cas des Nobles_" by Laurent Premier Fait--which is indeed every where. Nor must a sprinkle of _Roman Classics_ be omitted to be noticed, however briefly. A _Celsus, Portions of Livy,_ the _Metamorphosis of Ovid_, _Seneca's Tragedies_, the _Æneid of Virgil_, and _Juvenal_: none, I think, of a later period than the beginning or middle of the fifteenth century--just before the invention of printing. Among the MSS. of a miscellaneous class, are two which I was well pleased to examine: namely, the _Funerailles des Reines de France_, in folio--adorned with eleven large illuminations of royal funerals--and a work entitled _Mayni Jasonis Juris consulti Eq. Rom. Cæs., &c, Epitalamion, in_ 4to. The latter MS. is, in short, an epithalamium upon the marriage of Maximilian the Great and Blanche Maria, composed by M. Jaso, who was a ducal senator, and attached to the embassy which returned with the destined bride for Maximilian. What is its _chief_ ornament, in my estimation, are two sweetly executed small portraits of the royal husband and his consort. I was earnest to have fac-similes of them; and Mr. Young gave me the strongest assurances that my wishes should be attended to.[148] Thus much; or perhaps thus little, for the MSS. Still more brief must be my account of the PRINTED BOOKS: and first for a fifteener or two. It is an edition of _Dio Chrysostom de Regno_, without date, or name of printer, in 4to.; but most decidedly executed (as I told Mr. Young) by _Valdarfer_. What renders this copy exceedingly precious is, that it is printed UPON VELLUM; and is, I think, the only known copy so executed. It is in beautiful condition. Here is a pretty volume of _Hours_, in Latin, with a French metrical version, printed in the fifteenth century, without date, and struck off UPON VELLUM. It has wood-cuts, which are coloured of the time. From a copy of ms. verses, at the beginning of the volume, we learn that "the author of this metrical version was _Peter Gringore,_ commonly called _Vaudemont_, herald at arms to the Duke of Lorraine; who dedicated and brought this very copy to _Renatus of Bourbon_." I was much struck with a magnificent folio _Missal_, printed at Venice by that skilful typographical artist _I.H. de Landoia,_ in 1488--UPON VELLUM: with the cuts coloured.[149] A few small vellum _Hours_ by _Vostre_ and Vivian are sufficiently pretty.

In the class of books printed upon vellum, and continuing with the sixteenth century, I must not fail to commence with the notice of two copies of the _Tewrdannckh_, each of the date of 1517, and each UPON VELLUM. One is coloured, and the other not coloured. Mr. Young describes the former in the following animated language: "Exemplar omnibus numeris absolutum, optimeque servatum. Præstantissimum, rarissimumque tum typographicæ, tum xylographicæ artis, monumentum." _Lucani Pharsalia,_ 1811. Folio. Printed by Degen. A beautiful copy, of a magnificent book, UPON VELLUM; illustrated by ten copper plates. _M.C. Frontonis Opera: edidit Maius Mediol_. 1815. 4to. An unique copy; upon vellum. _Flore Medicale decrite par Chaumeton & peinte par Mme. E. Panckoucke & I.F. Turpin. Paris,_ 1814. Supposed to be unique, as a vellum copy; with the original drawings, and the cuts printed in bistre. Here is also a magnificent work, called "_Omaggio delle Provincie Venetæ_" upon the nuptials of the present Emperor and Empress of Austria. It consists of seventeen copper-plates, printed upon vellum, and preserved in two cases, covered with beautiful ornaments and figures, in worked gold and silver, &c. Of this magnificent production of art, there were two copies only printed upon vellum, and this is one of them.

Up stairs, on the third floor, is kept his Majesty's COLLECTION of ENGRAVED PORTRAITS--which amount, as Mr. Young informed me, to not fewer than 120,000 in number. They commence with the earliest series, from the old German and Italian masters, and descend regularly to our own times. Of course such a collection contains very much that is exquisite and rare in the series of _British Portraits_. Mr. Young is an Italian by birth; but has been nurtured, from earliest youth, in the Austrian dominions. He is a man of strong cultivated parts, and so fond of the literature of the "_Zodiacus Vitæ_" of _Marcellus Palingenius_--translated by our _Barnabe Googe_: of the editions of which translation he was very desirous that I should procure him a copious and correct list. But it is the gentle and obliging manners--the frank and open-hearted conversation--and, above all, the high-minded devotedness to his Royal master and to his interests, that attach, and ever will attach, Mr. Young to me--by ties of no easily dissoluble nature. We have parted ... perhaps never to meet again; but he may rest assured that the recollection of his kindnesses ("Semper honos nomenque," &c.) will never be obliterated from my memory.[150]

Scarcely a stone's throw from the Imperial Library, is the noble mansion of the venerable DUKE ALBERT of _Saxe-Teschen:_ the husband of the lady to whose memory Canova has erected the proudest trophy of his art. This amiable and accomplished nobleman has turned his eightieth year; and is most liberal and kind in the display of all the treasures which belong to him.[151] These "treasures" are of a first-rate character; both as to _Drawings_ and _Prints_. He has no rival in the _former_ department, and even surpasses the Emperor in the latter. I visited and examined his collection (necessarily in a superficial manner) twice; paying only particular attention to the drawings of the Italian school--including those of Claude Lorraine. I do not know what is in our _own_ royal collection, but I may safely say that our friend Mr. Ottley has some finer _Michel Angelos and Raffaelles_--and the Duke of Devonshire towers, beyond all competition, in the possession of _Claude Lorraines_. Yet you are to know that the drawings of Duke Albert amount to nearly 12,000 in number. They are admirably well arranged--in a large, light room--overlooking the ramparts. Having so recently examined the productions of the earlier masters in the German school, at Munich--but more particularly in Prince Eugene's collection of prints, in the Imperial Library here--I did not care to look after those specimens of the same masters which were in the port folios of the Duke Albert. The _Albert Durer_ drawings, however, excited my attention, and extorted the warmest commendation. It is quite delightful to learn (for so M. Bartsch told me--the Duke himself being just now at Baden) that this dignified and truly respectable old man, yet takes delight in the treasures of his own incomparable collection. "Whenever I visit him (said my "fidus Achates" M.B.) he begs me to take a chair and sit beside him; and is anxious to obtain intelligence of any thing curious, or rare, or beautiful, which may add to the worth of his collection."

It is now high time, methinks, to take leave not only of public and private collections of books, but of almost every thing else in Vienna. Yet I must add a word connected with literature and the fine arts. As to the former, it seems to sleep soundly. Few or no literary societies are encouraged, few public discussions are tolerated, and the capital of the empire is without either _reviews_ or _institutions_--which can bear the least comparison with our own. The library of the University is said, however, to hold fourscore thousand volumes. Few critical works are published there; and for _one_ Greek or Roman classic put forth at Vienna, they have _half_ a _score_ at Leipsic, Franckfort, Leyden, and Strasbourg. But in Oriental literature, M. Hammer is a tower of strength, and justly considered to be the pride of his country. The Academy of Painting is here a mere shadow of a shade. In the fine arts, Munich is as six to one beyond Vienna. A torpidity, amounting to infatuation, seems to possess those public men who have influence both on the councils and prosperity of their country. When the impulse for talent, furnished by the antique gems belonging to the Imperial collection,[152] is considered, it is surprising how little has been accomplished at Vienna for the last century. M. Bartsch is, however, a proud exception to any reproach arising from the want of indigenous talent. His name and performances alone are a host against such captious imputations.[153] There wants only a few wiser heads, and more active spirits, in some of the upper circles of society, and Vienna might produce graphic works as splendid as they would be permanent.

We will now leave the city for the country, or rather for the immediate neighbourhood of Vienna; and then, having, I think, sent you a good long Vienna despatch, must hasten to take leave--not only of yourself, but of this metropolis. Whether I shall again write to you before I cross the Rhine on my return home--is quite uncertain. Let me therefore make the most of the present: which indeed is of a most unconscionable length. Turn, for one moment, to the opening of it--and note, there, some mention made of certain monasteries--one of which is situated at CLOSTERNEUBURG, the other in the suburbs. I will first take you to the former--a pleasant drive of about nine miles from hence. Mr. Lewis, myself, and our attendant Rohfritsch, hired a pair of horses for the day; and an hour and a half brought us to a good inn, or Restaurateur's immediately opposite the monastery in question. In our route thither, the Danube continued in sight all the way--which rendered the drive very pleasant. The river may be the best part of a mile broad, near the monastery. The sight of the building in question was not very imposing, after those which I had seen in my route to Vienna. The monastery is, in fact, an incomplete edifice; but the foundations of the building are of an ancient date.[154] Having postponed our dinner to a comparatively late hour, I entered, as usual, upon the business of the monastic visit. The court-yard, or quadrangle, had a mean appearance; but I saw enough of architectural splendour to convince me that, if this monastery had been completed according to the original design, it would have ranked among the noblest in Austria.

On obtaining admission, I enquired for the librarian, but was told that he had not yet (two o'clock) risen from dinner. I apologised for the intrusion, and begged respectfully to be allowed to wait till he should be disposed to leave the dining-room. The attendant, however, would admit of no such arrangement; for he instantly disappeared, and returned with a monk, habited in the _Augustine_ garb, with a grave aspect and measured step. He might be somewhere about forty years of age. As he did not understand a word of French, it became necessary again to brush up my Latin. He begged I would follow him up stairs, and in the way to the library, would not allow me to utter one word further in apology for my supposed rudeness in bringing him thus abruptly from his "symposium." A more good natured man seemingly never opened his lips. Having reached the library, the first thing he placed before me--as the boast and triumph of their establishment--was, a large paper copy (in quarto) of an edition of the _Hebrew Bible_, edited by I. Hahn, one of their fraternity, and published in 1806, 4 vols.[155] This was accomplished under the patronage of the Head of the Monastery, _Gaudentius Dunkler_: who was at the sole expense of the paper and of procuring new Hebrew types. I threw my eye over the dedication to the President, by Hahn, and saw the former with pleasure recognised as the MODERN XIMENES.

Having thanked the librarian for a sight of these volumes--of which there is an impression in an octavo and cheap form, "for the use of youth"--I begged that I might have a sight of the _Incunabula Typographica_ of which I had heard a high character. He smiled, and said that a few minutes would suffice to undeceive me in this particular. Whereupon he placed before me ... such a set of genuine, unsoiled, uncropt, _undoctored_, ponderous folio tomes ... as verily caused my eyes to sparkle, and my heart to leap! They were, upon the whole---and for their number--_such_ copies as I had never before seen. You have here a very accurate account of them--taken, with the said copies "oculis subjectis." _St. Austin de Civitate Dei_, 1467. _Folio_. A very large and sound copy, in the original binding of wood; but not free from a good deal of ms. annotation. _Mentelin's German Bible_; somewhat cropt, and in its second binding, but sound and perfect. _Supposed first German Bible_: a large and fine copy, in its first binding of wood. _Apuleius_, 1469. Folio. The largest and finest copy which, I think, I ever beheld--with the exception of some slight worm holes at the end. _Livius_, 1470. Folio. 2 vols. _Printed by V. de Spira._ In the original binding. When I say that this copy appears to be full as fine as that in the collection of Mr. Grenville, I bestow upon it the highest possible commendation. _Plutarchi Vit. Parall._ 2 vol. Folio. In the well known peculiarly shaped letter R. This copy, in one magnificent folio volume, is the largest and finest I ever saw: but--eheu! a few leaves are wanting at the end. _Polybius. Lat._ 1473. Folio. The printers are Sweynheym and Pannartz. A large, fine copy; in the original binding of wood: but four leaves at the end, with a strong foxy tint at top, are worm-eaten in the middle.

Let me pursue this _amusing_ strain; for I have rarely, within so small a space--in any monastic library I have hitherto visited--found such a sprinkling of classical volumes. _Plinius Senior_, 1472. Folio. Printed by Jenson. A prodigiously fine, large copy. A ms. note, prefixed, says: "_hunc librum comparuit Jacobus Pemperl pro viij t d. an [14]88," &c. Xenophontis Cyropædia_. Lat. _Curante Philelpho_. With the date of the translation, 1467. A very fine copy of a well printed book. _Mammotrectus_, 1470. Folio. Printed by Schoeffher. A fine, white, tall copy; in its original wooden binding. _Sti. Jeronimi Epistolæ_. 1470. Folio. Printed by Sweynheym and Pannartz. In one volume: for size and condition probably unrivalled. In its first binding of wood. _Gratiani Decretales_. 1472. Folio. Printed by Schoeffher. UPON VELLUM: in one enormous folio volume, and in an unrivalled state of perfection. Perhaps, upon the whole, the finest vellum Schoeffher in existence. It is in its original binding, but some of the leaves are loose. _Opus Consiliorum I. de Calderi_. 1472. Idem Opus: _Anthonii de Burtrio_. 1472. Folio. Each work printed by _Adam Rot, Metensis_: a rare printer, but of whose performances I have now seen a good number of specimens. These works are in one volume, and the present is a fine sound copy. _Petri Lombardi Quat. Lib. Sentent_. Folio. This book is without name of printer or date; but I should conjecture it to be executed in Eggesteyn's largest gothic character, and, from a ms. memorandum at the end, we are quite sure that the book was printed in 1471 at latest. The memorandum is as follows: "_Iste liber est magistri Leonardi Fruman de Hyersaw_, 1471."

Such appeared to me to be the choicer, and more to be desiderated, volumes in the monastic library of Closterneuberg--which a visit of about a couple of hours only enabled me to examine. I say "_desiderated_"--my good friend--because, on returning home, I revolved within myself what might be done with propriety towards the _possession_ of them.[156] Having thanked the worthy librarian, and expressed the very great satisfaction afforded me by a sight of the books in question--which had fully answered the high character given of them--I returned to the auberge--dined with an increased appetite in consequence of such a sight--and, picking up a "white stone," as a lucky omen, being at the very extent of my _Bibliographical_, _Antiquarian_, and _Picturesque Tour_--returned to Vienna, to a late cup of tea; well satisfied, in every respect, with this most agreeable excursion.

There now remains but one more subject to be noticed--and, then, farewell to this city--and hie for Manheim, Paris, and Old England! That one subject is again connected with old books and an old Monastery ... which indeed the opening of this letter leads you to anticipate. In that part of the vast suburbs of Vienna which faces the north, and which is called the ROSSAU--there stands a church and a _Capuchin convent_, of some two centuries antiquity: the latter, now far gone to decay both in the building and revenues. The outer gate of the convent was opened--as at the Capuchin convent which contains the imperial sepulchres--by a man with a long, bushy, and wiry beard ... who could not speak one word of French. I was alone, and a hackney coach had conveyed me thither. What was to be done. "_Bibliothecam hujusce Monasterii valdè videre cupio--licetne Domine?"_ The monk answered my interrogatory with a sonorous "_imo_:" and the gates closing upon us, I found myself in the cloisters--where my attendant left me, to seek the Principal and librarian. In two minutes, I observed a couple of portly Capuchins, pacing the pavement of the cloister, and approaching me with rather a hurried step. On meeting, they saluted me formally--and assuming a cheerful air, begged to conduct me to the library. We were quickly within a room, of very moderate dimensions, divided into two compartments, of which the shelves were literally thronged and crammed with books, lying in all directions, and completely covered with dust. It was impossible to make a selection from such an indigested farrago: but the backs happening to be lettered, this afforded me considerable facility. I was told that the "WHOLE LIBRARY WAS AT MY DISPOSAL!"--which intelligence surprised and somewhat staggered me. The monks seemed to enjoy my expression of astonishment.

I went to work quickly; and after upwards of an hour's severe rummaging, among uninteresting folios and quartos of medicine, canon-law, scholastic metaphysics, and dry comments upon the decretals of Popes Boniface and Gratian--it was rather from courtesy, than complete satisfaction, that I pitched upon a few ... of a miscellaneous description--begging to have the account, for which the money should be immediately forthcoming. They replied that my wishes should be instantly attended to--but that it would be necessary to consult together to reconsider the prices--and that a porter should be at the hotel of the _Crown of Hungary_, with the volumes selected--to await my final decision. As a _book-bill_ sent from a monastery, and written in the Latin language, may be considered _unique_ in our country--and a curiosity among the _Roxburghers _--I venture to send you a transcript of it: premising, that I retained the books, and paid down the money: somewhere about _6l. 16s. 6d_. You will necessarily smile at the epithets bestowed upon your friend.

Plurimum Reverende, ac Venerande Domine!

Mitto cum hisce, quos tibi seligere placuit, libros, eosdemque hic breviter describo, addito pretio, quo nobis conventum est; et quidem ex catalogo desumptos:

Florins. Missale Rom. pro Pataviensis Ecclæ ritu. 1494 5 Missa defunctorum. 1499 3 Val. Martialis Epigrammatum opus. 1475 25 Xenophontis Apologia Socratis 3 Epulario &c. 1 De Conceptu et triplici Mariæ V. Candore 1 ac demum Trithemii Annales Hirsaug. et Aristotelis opera Edit. Sylburgii 35 ----- 73 Quæ cuncta Tibi optime convenire, Teque valere perpetim precor et opto.

P. JOAN. SARCANDER MRA. _Ord. Serv. B.M.V._

This is the last _bibliomaniacal_ transaction in which I am likely to be engaged at Vienna; for, within thirty-six hours from hence, the post horses will be in the archway of this hotel, with their heads turned towards Old England. In that direction my face will be also turned ... for the next month or five weeks to come; being resolved upon spending the best part of a fortnight of those five weeks, at _Ratisbon_, _Nuremberg_, and _Manheim_. You may therefore expect to hear from me again--certainly for the _last_ time--at Manheim, just before crossing the Rhine for Chalons sur Marne, Metz, and Paris. I shall necessarily have but little leisure on the road--for a journey of full 500 miles is to be encountered before I reach the hither bank of the Rhine at Manheim.

Farewell then to VIENNA:--a long, and perhaps final farewell! If I have arrived at a moment when this capital is comparatively thinned of its population, and bereft of its courtly splendors--and if this city may be said to be _now_ dull, compared with what its _winter_ gaieties will render it--I shall nevertheless not have visited it IN VAIN. Books, whether as MSS. or printed volumes, have been inspected by me with an earnestness and profitable result--not exceeded by any previous similar application: while the company of men of worth, of talents, and of kindred tastes, has rendered my social happiness complete. The best of hearts, and the friendliest of dispositions, are surely to be found in the capital of Austria. Farewell. It is almost the hour of midnight--and not a single note of the harp or violin is to be heard in the streets. The moon shines softly and sweetly. God bless you.

[134] In Hartman Schedel's time, these suburbs seem to have been equally distinguished. "Habet (says he, speaking of Vienna) SUBURBIA MAXIMA et AMBICIOSA." _Chron. Norimb._ 1493. fol. xcviii. rev.

[135] Schedel's general description of the city of Vienna, which is equally brief and spirited, may deserve to be quoted. "VIENNA autem urbs magnifica ambitu murorum cingitur duorum millium passuum: habet fossa et vallo cincta: urbs autem fossatum magnum habet: undique aggerem prealtum: menia deinde spissa et sublimia frequentesque turres; et propugnacula ad bellum prompta. Ædes civium amplae et ornatae: structura solida et firma, altæ domorum facies magnificaeque visuntur. Unum id dedecori est, quod tecta plerumque ligna contegunt pauca lateres. Cetera edificia muro lapideo consistunt. Pictæ domus, et interius et exterius splendent. Ingressus cuiusque domum in ædes te principis venisse putabis." _Ibid._ This is not an exaggerated description. A little below, Schedel says "there is a monastery, called St. Jerome, (much after the fashion of our _Magdalen_) in which reformed Prostitutes are kept; and where, day and night, they sing hymns in the Teutonic dialect. If any of them are found relapsing into their former sinful ways, they are thrown headlong into the Danube." "But (adds he) they lead, on the contrary, a chaste and holy life."

[136] I suspect that the houses opposite the Palace are of comparatively recent construction. In _Pfeffel's Viva et Accurata Delineatio_ of the palaces and public buildings of Vienna, 1725 (oblong folio,) the palace faces a wide place or square. Eighteen sculptured human figures, apparently of the size of life, there grace the topmost ballustrade in the copper-plate view of this truly magnificent residence.

[137] [Recently however the number of _Restaurateurs_ has become considerable.]

[138] In Hartmann Schedel's time, there appears to have been a very considerable traffic in wine at Vienna: "It is incredible (says he) what a brisk trade is stirring in the article of wine,[139] in this city. Twelve hundred horses are daily employed for the purposes of draught--either for the wine drank at Vienna, or sent up the Danube--against the stream--with amazing labour and difficulty. It is said that the wine cellars are frequently as deep _below_ the earth, as the houses are _above_ it." Schedel goes on to describe the general appearance of the streets, and the neatness of the interiors, of the houses: adding, "that the windows are generally filled with stained glass, having iron-gratings without, where numerous birds sing in cages. The winter (remarks he) sets in here very severely." _Chron. Norimb_. 1493, fol. xcix.

[139] The vintage about Vienna should seem to have been equally abundant a century after the above was written. In the year 1590, when a severe shock of earthquake threatened destruction to the tower of the Cathedral--and it was absolutely necessary to set about immediate repairs--the _liquid_ which was applied to make the most astringent _mortar_, was WINE: "l'on se servit de _vin,_ qui fut alors en abondance, pour faire le _plâtre_ de cette batise." _Denkmahle der Baukunst und Bildneren des Mittelalters in dem Oesterreichischen Kaiserthume_. Germ. Fr. Part iii. p. 36. 1817-20.

[140] There is a good sized (folded) view of the church, or rather chiefly of the south front of the spire, in the "_Vera et Accurata Delineatio Omnium Templorum et Cænobiorum_" of Vienna, published by Pfeffel in the year 1724, oblong folio.

[141] This head has been published as the first plate in the third livraison of the ECCLESIASTICAL ANTIQUITIES of Vienna--accompanied by French and German letter-press. I have no hesitation in saying that, without the least national bias or individual partiality, the performance of Mr. Lewis--although much smaller, is by far the most _faithful_; nor is the engraving less superior, than the drawing, to the production of the Vienna artist. This latter is indeed faithless in design and coarse in execution. Beneath the head, in the original sculpture, and in the latter plate, we read the inscription M.A.P. 1313. It is no doubt an interesting specimen of sculpture of the period.

[142] Vol. ii. p. 312-313.

[143] There is a large print of it (which I saw at Vienna) in the line manner, but very indifferently executed. But of the last, detached group, above described, there is a very fine print in the line manner.

[144] See p. 245 ante.

[145] As in that of the _Feast of Venus in the island of Cythera_: about eleven feet by seven. There is also another, of himself, in the Garden of Love--with his two wives--in the peculiarly powerful and voluptuous style of his pencil. The picture is about four feet long. His portrait of one of his wives, of the size of life, habited only in an ermine cloak at the back (of which the print is well known) is an extraordinary production ... as to colour and effect.

[146] I am not sure whether any publication, connected with this extraordinary collection, has appeared since _Chrétien de Mechel's Catalogue des Tableaux de la Galerie Impériale et Royale de Vienne_; 1784, 8vo.: which contains, at the end, four folded copper-plates of the front elevations and ground plans of the Great and Little Belvederes. He divides his work into the _Venetian, Roman, Florentine, Bolognese_, and _Ancient and Modern Flemish Schools_: according to the different chambers or apartments. This catalogue is a mere straight-forward performance; presenting a formal description of the pictures, as to size and subject, but rarely indulging in warmth of commendation, and never in curious and learned research. The preface, from which I have gleaned the particulars of the History of the Collection, is sufficiently interesting. My friend M. Bartsch, if leisure and encouragement were afforded him, might produce a magnificent and instructive work--devoted to this very extraordinary collection. (Upon whom, NOW, shall this task devolve?!)

[147] See the OPPOSITE PLATE.

[148] The truth is, not only fac-similes of these illuminations, but of the initial L, so warmly mentioned at page 292, were executed by M. Fendi, under the direction of my friend M. Bartsch, and dispatched to me from Vienna in the month of June 1820--but were lost on the road.

[149] Lord Spencer has recently obtained a copy of this exquisitely printed book from the M'Carthy collection. See the _Ædes Althorpianæ;_ vol. ii. p. 192.

[150] [I annex, with no common gratification, a fac-simile of the Autograph of this most worthy man,

[151] He has (_now_) been _dead_ several years.

[152] ECKHEL'S work upon these gems, in 1788, folio, is well known. The apotheosis of Augustus, in this collection, is considered as an unrivalled specimen of art, upon sardonyx. I regretted much not to have seen these gems, but the floor of the room in which they are preserved was taken up, and the keeper from home.

[153] It will be only necessary to mention--for the establishment of this fact--the ENGRAVED WORKS alone of M. Bartsch, from masters of every period, and of every school, amounting to 505 in number: an almost incredible effort, when we consider that their author has scarcely yet passed his grand climacteric. His _Peintre Graveur_ is a literary performance, in the graphic department, of really solid merit and utility. The record of the achievements of M. Bartsch has been perfected by the most affectionate and grateful of all hands--those of his son, _Frederic de Bartsch_--in an octavo volume, which bears the following title, and which has the portrait (but not a striking resemblance) of the father prefixed:--"_Catalogue des Estampes de_ J. ADAM de BARTSCH, _Chevalier de l'Ordre de Léopold, Conseiller aulique et Premier Garde de la Bibl. Imp. et Roy. de la Cour, Membre de l'Academie des Beaux Arts de Vienne_." 1818. 8vo. pp. 165. There is a modest and sensible preface by the son--in which we are informed that the catalogue was not originally compiled for the purpose of making it public.

The following is a fac-simile of the Autograph of this celebrated graphical Critic and Artist.

[154] The MONASTERY of CLOSTERNEUBURG, or Nevenburg, or Nuenburg, or Newburg, or Neunburg--is supposed to have been built by Leopold the Pious in the year 1114. It was of the order of St. Augustin. They possess (at the monastery, it should seem) a very valuable chronicle, of the XIIth century, upon vellum--devoted to the history of the establishment; but unluckily defective at the beginning and end. It is supposed to have been written by the head of the monastery, for the time being. It is continued by a contemporaneous hand, down to the middle of the fourteenth century. They preserve also, at Closterneuburg, a Necrology--of five hundred years--down to the year 1721. "Inter cæteros præstantes veteres codices manuscriptos, quos INSIGNIS BIBLIOTHECA CLAUSTRO-NEOBURGENSIS servat, est pervetus inclytæ ejusdem canoniæ Necrologium, ante annos quingentos in membranis elegantissimè manu exaratum, et a posteriorum temporum auctoribus continuatum." _Script. Rer. Austriacar. Cura Pez._ 1721. vol. 1. col. 435, 494.

[155] The librarian, MAXIMILIAN FISCHER, informed me the quarto copies were rare, for that only 400 were printed. The octavo copies are not so, but they do not contain all the marginal references which are in the quarto impressions.

[156] In fact, I wrote a letter to the librarian, the day after my visit, proposing to give 2000 florins in specie for the volumes above described. My request was answered by the following polite, and certainly most discreet and commendable reply: "D....Domine! Litteris a Te 15. Sept. scriptis et 16 Sept. a me receptis, de Tuo desiderio nonnullos bibliothecæ nostræ libros pro pecunia acquirendi, me certiorem reddidisti; ast mihi respondendum venit, quod tuis votis obtemperare non possim. Copia horum librorum ad cimelium bibliothecæ Claustroneoburgensis merito refertur, et maxima sunt in æstimatione apud omnes confratres meos; porro, lege civili cautum est, ne libri et res rariores Abbatiarum divenderentur. Si unum aliumve horum, ceu duplicatum, invenissem, pro æquissimo pretio in signum venerationis transmisissem.

"Ad alia, si præstare possem, officia, me paratissimum invenies, simulque Te obsecro, me æstimatorem tui sincerrimum reputes, hinc me in ulteriorem recordationem commendo, ac dignum me æstimes quod nominare me possem,

... dominationis Tuæ _E Canonia Claustroneoburgensi_, addictissimum 17 _Septbr_ 1818. MAXIMILIANUM FISCHER. Can. reg. Bibliothec. et Archivar."

_Supplement_.

RATISBON, NUREMBERG, MANHEIM.

_Supplement_.

Having found it impracticable to write to my friend--on the route from Vienna to Paris, and from thence to London--the reader is here presented with a few SUPPLEMENTAL PARTICULARS with which that route furnished me; and which, I presume to think, will not be considered either misplaced or uninteresting. They are arranged quite in the manner of MEMORANDA, or heads: not unaccompanied with a regret that the limits of this work forbid a more extended detail. I shall immediately, therefore, conduct the reader from Vienna to

RATISBON.

I left VIENNA, with my travelling companion, within two days after writing the last letter, dated from that place--upon a beautiful September morning. But ere we had reached _St. Pölten_, the face of the heavens was changed, and heavy rain accompanied us till we got to Mölk, where we slept: not however before I had written a note to the worthy _Benedictine Fraternity_ at the monastery--professing my intention of breakfasting with them the next morning. This self-invitation was joyfully accepted, and the valet, who returned with the written answer, told me that it was a high day of feasting and merry-making at the monastery--and that he had left the worthy Monks in the plenitude of their social banquet. We were much gratified the next morning, not only by the choice and excellence of the breakfast, but by the friendliness of our reception. So simple are manners here, that, in going up the hill, towards the monastery, we met the worthy Vice Principal, Pallas, habited in his black gown--returning from a baker's shop, where he had been to bespeak the best bread. I was glad to renew my acquaintance with the Abbé Strattman, and again solicited permission for Mr. Lewis to take the portrait of so eminent a bibliographer. But in vain: the Abbé answering, with rather a melancholy and mysterious air, that "the world was lost to him, and himself to the world."

We parted--with pain on both sides; and on the same evening slept, where we had stopt in our route to Vienna, at _Lintz_. The next morning (Sunday) we started betimes to breakfast at _Efferding_. Our route lay chiefly along the banks of the Danube ... under hanging woods on one side, with villages and villas on the other. The fog hung heavily about us; and we could catch but partial and unsatisfactory glimpses of that scenery, which, when lightened by a warm sunshine, must be perfectly romantic. At Efferding our carriage and luggage were examined, while we breakfasted. The day now brightened up, and nothing but sunshine and "the song of earliest birds" accompanied us to _Sigharding_,--the next post town. Hence to _Scharding_, where we dined, and to _Fürsternell_, where we supped and slept. The inn was crowded by country people below, but we got excellent quarters in the attics; and were regaled with peaches, after supper, which might have vied with those out of the Imperial garden at Vienna. We arose betimes, and breakfasted at _Vilshofen_--and having lost sight of the Danube, since we left Efferding, we were here glad to come again in view of it: and especially to find it accompany us a good hundred miles of our route, till we reached _Ratisbon_.

_Straubing_, where we dined--and which is within two posts of Ratisbon--is a very considerable town. The Danube washes parts of its suburbs. As the day was uncommonly serene and mild, even to occasional sultriness, and as we were in excellent time for reaching Ratisbon that evening, we devoted an hour or two to rambling in this town. Mr. Lewis made sketches, and I strolled into churches, and made enquiries after booksellers shops, and possessors of old books: but with very little success. A fine hard road, as level as a bowling green, carries you within an hour to _Pfätter_--the post town between Straubing and Ratisbon--and almost twice that distance brings you to the latter place.

It was dark when we entered Ratisbon, and having been recommended to the hotel of the _Agneau Blanc_ we drove thither, and alighted ... close to the very banks of the Danube--and heard the roar of its rapid stream, turning several mills, close as it were to our very ears. The master of the hotel, whose name is _Cramer_, and who talked French very readily, received us with peculiar courtesy; and, on demanding the best situated room in the house, we were conducted on the second floor, to the chamber which had been occupied, only two or three days before, by the Emperor of Austria himself, on his way to _Aix-la-Chapelle_. The next morning was a morning of wonder to us. Our sitting-room, which was a very lantern, from the number of windows, gave us a view of the rushing stream of the Danube, of a portion of the bridge over it, of some beautifully undulating and vine-covered hills, in the distance, on the opposite side--and, lower down the stream, of the town-walls and water-mills, of which latter we had heard the stunning sounds on our arrival.[157] The whole had a singularly novel and pleasing appearance.

But if the sitting room was thus productive of gratification, the very first walk I took in the streets was productive of still greater. On leaving the inn, and turning to the left, up a narrow street, I came in view of a house ... upon the walls of which were painted, full three hundred years ago, the figures of _Goliath and David_. The former could be scarcely less than twenty feet high: the latter, who was probably about one-third of that height, was represented as if about to cast the stone from the sling. The costume of Goliath marked the period when he was thus represented;[158] and I must say, considering the time that has elapsed since that representation, that he is yet a fine, vigorous, and fresh-looking fellow. I continued onwards, now to the right, and afterwards to the left, without knowing a single step of the route. An old, but short square gothic tower--upon one of the four sides of which was a curious old clock, supported by human figures--immediately caught my attention. The _Town Hall_ was large and imposing; but the _Cathedral_, surrounded by booths--it being fair-time--was, of course, the great object of my attention. In short, I saw enough within an hour to convince me, that I was visiting a large, curious, and well-peopled town; replete with antiquities, and including several of the time of the Romans, to whom it was necessarily a very important station. Ratisbon is said to contain a population of about 20,000 souls.

The Cathedral can boast of little antiquity. It is almost a building of yesterday; yet it is large, richly ornamented on the outside, especially on the west, between the towers--and is considered one of the noblest structures of the kind in Bavaria.[159] The interior wants that decisive effect which simplicity produces. It is too much broken into parts, and covered with monuments of a very heterogeneous description. Near it I traced the cloisters of an old convent or monastery of some kind, now demolished, which could not be less than five hundred years old. The streets of Ratisbon are generally picturesque, as well from their undulating forms, as from the antiquity of a great number of the houses. The modern parts of the town are handsome, and there is a pleasant inter-mixture of trees and grass plats in some of these more recent portions. There are some pleasing public walks, after the English fashion; and a public garden, where a colossal sphinx, erected by the late philosopher _Gleichen_, has a very imposing appearance. Here is also an obelisk erected to the memory of Gleichen himself, the founder of these gardens; and a monument to the memory of Keplar, the astronomer; which latter was luckily spared in the assault of this town by the French in 1809.

But these are, comparatively, every day objects. A much more interesting source of observation, to my mind, were the very few existing relics of the once celebrated monastery of ST. EMMERAM--and a great portion of the remains of another old monastery, called ST. JAMES--which latter may indeed be designated the _College of the Jacobites_; as the few members who inhabit it were the followers of the house and fortunes of the Pretender, James Stuart. The monastery, or _Abbey of St. Emmeram_ was one of the most celebrated throughout Europe; and I suspect that its library, both of MSS. and printed books, was among the principal causes of its celebrity.[160] The intelligent and truly obliging Mr. A. Kraemer, librarian to the Prince of Tour and Taxis, accompanied me in my visit to the very few existing remains of St. Emmeram--which indeed are incorporated, as it were, with the church close to the palace or residence of the Prince. As I walked along the corridors of this latter building, after having examined the Prince's library, and taken notes of a few of the rarer or more beautiful books, I could look through the windows into the body of the church itself. It is difficult to describe this religious edifice, and still more so to know what portions belonged to the old monastery. I saw a stone chair--rude, massive, and almost shapeless--in which _Adam_ might have sat ... if dates are to be judged of by the barbarism of form. Something like a crypt, of which the further part was uncovered--reminded me of portions of the crypt at _Freysing_; and among the old monuments belonging to the abbey, was one of _Queen Hemma_, wife of Ludovic, King of Bavaria: a great benefactress, who was buried there in 876. The figure, which was whole-length, and of the size of life, was painted; and might be of the fourteenth century. There is another monument, of _Warmundus, Count of Wasserburg_, who was buried in 1001. These monuments have been lithographised, from the drawings of Quaglio, in the "_Denkmahle der Baukunst des Mittelalters im Koenigreiche Baiern_," 1816. Folio.

Of all interesting objects of architectural antiquity in Ratisbon, none struck me so forcibly--and indeed none is in itself so curious and singular--as the MONASTERY OF ST. JAMES, before slightly alluded to. The front of that portion of it, connected with the church, should seem to be of an extremely remote antiquity. It is the ornaments, or style of architecture, which give it this character of antiquity. The ornaments, which are on each side of the door way, or porch, are quite extraordinary, and appear as if the building had been erected by Mexicans or Hindoos.

Quaglio has made a drawing, and published a lithographic print of the whole of this entrance. I had conjectured the building to be of the twelfth century, and was pleased to have my conjecture confirmed by the assurance of one of the members of the college (either Mr. Richardson or Mr. Sharp) that the foundations of the building were laid in the middle of the XIIth century; and that, about twenty miles off, down the Danube, there was another monastery, now in ruins, called _Mosburg_, if I mistake not--which was built about the same period, and which exhibited precisely the same style of architecture.

But if the entire college, with the church, cloisters, sitting rooms, and dormitories, was productive of so much gratification, the _contents_ of these rooms, including the _members_ themselves, were productive of yet greater. To begin with the Head, or President, DR. C. ARBUTHNOT: one of the finest and healthiest looking old gentlemen I ever beheld--in his eighty-second year. I should however premise, that the members of this college--only six or eight in number, and attached to the interests of the Stuarts--have been settled here almost from their infancy: some having arrived at seven, and others at twelve, years of age. Their method of speaking their _own_ language is very singular; and rather difficult of comprehension. Nor is the _French_, spoken by them, of much better pronunciation. Of manners the most simple, and apparently of principles the most pure, they seem to be strangers to those wants and wishes which frequently agitate a more numerous and polished establishment; and to move, as it were, from the cradle to the grave ...

"The world forgetting, by the world forgot."

As soon as the present Head ceases to exist,[161] the society is to be dissolved--and the building to be demolished.[162] I own that this intelligence, furnished me by one of the members, gave a melancholy and yet more interesting air to every object which I saw, and to every Member with whom I conversed. The society is of the Benedictine order, and there is a large whole length portrait, in the upper cloisters, or rather corridor, of ST. BENEDICT--with the emphatic inscription of "PATER MONACHORUM." The _library_ was carefully visited by me, and a great number of volumes inspected. The local is small and unpretending: a mere corridor, communicating with a tolerably good sized room, in the middle, at right angles. I saw a few _hiatuses_, which had been caused by disposing of the volumes, that had _filled_ them, to the cabinet in St. James's Place. In fact, Mr. Horn--so distinguished for his bibliographical _trouvailles_--had been either himself a _member_ of this College, or had had a _brother_, so circumstanced, who foraged for him. What remained was, comparatively, mere chaff: and yet I contrived to find a pretty ample sprinkling of Greek and Latin Philosophy, printed and published at Paris by _Gourmont_, _Colinæus_, and the _Stephens_, in the first half of the sixteenth century. There were also some most beautifully-conditioned Hebrew books, printed by the _Stephen family_;--and having turned the bottoms of those books outwards, which I thought it might be possible to purchase, I requested the librarian to consider of the matter; who, himself apparently consenting, informed me, on the following morning, that, on a consultation held with the other members, it was deemed advisable not to part with any more of their books. I do not suppose that the whole would bring 250l. beneath a well known hammer in Pall-Mall.

The PUBLIC LIBRARY was also carefully visited. It is a strange, rambling, but not wholly uninteresting place--although the collection is rather barbarously miscellaneous. I saw more remains of Roman antiquities of the usual character of rings, spear-heads, lachrymatories, &c.--than of rare and curious old books: but, among the latter, I duly noticed _Mentelin's edition of the first German Bible_. No funds are applied to the increase of this collection; and the books, in an upper and lower room, seem to lie desolate and forlorn, as if rarely visited--and yet more rarely opened. Compared with the celebrated public libraries in France, Bavaria, and Austria, this of RATISBON is ... almost a reproach to the municipal authorities of the place. I cannot however take leave of the book-theme, or of Ratisbon--without mentioning, in terms of unfeigned sincerity, the obligations I was under to M. AUGUSTUS KRAEMER, the librarian of the Prince of Tour and Taxis; who not only satisfied, but even anticipated, my wishes, in every thing connected with antiquities. There is a friendliness of disposition, a mildness of manner, and pleasantness both of mien and of conversation, about this gentleman, which render his society extremely engaging. Upon the whole, although I absolutely gained nothing in the way of book-acquisitions, during my residence at Ratisbon, I have not passed three pleasanter days in any town in Bavaria than those which were spent here. It is a place richly deserving of the minute attention of the antiquary; and the country, on the opposite side of the Danube, presents some genuine features of picturesque beauty. Nor were the civility, good fare, and reasonable charges of the _Agneau Blanc_, among the most insignificant comforts attending our residence at Ratisbon.

We left that town a little after mid-day, intending to sleep the same evening at NEUMARKT, within two stages of Nuremberg. About an English mile from Ratisbon, the road rises to a considerable elevation, whence you obtain a fine and interesting view of that city--with the Danube encircling its base like a belt. From this eminence I looked, for the last time, upon that magnificent river--which, with very few exceptions, had kept in view the whole way from Vienna: a distance of about two hundred and sixty English miles. I learnt that an aquatic excursion, from Ulm to Ratisbon, was one of the pleasantest schemes or parties of pleasure, imaginable--and that the English were extremely partial to it. Our faces were now resolutely turned towards Nuremberg; while a fine day, and a tolerably good road, made us insensible of any inconvenience which might otherwise have resulted from a journey of nine German miles.

We reached _Neumarkt_ about night-fall, and got into very excellent quarters. The rooms of the inn which we occupied had been filled by the Duke of Wellington and Lord and Lady Castlereagh on their journey to Congress in the winter of 1814. The master of the inn related to us a singular anecdote respecting the Duke. On hearing of his arrival, the inhabitants of the place flocked round the inn, and the next morning the Duke found the _tops of his boots half cut away_--from the desire which the people expressed of having "some memorial of the great captain of the age."[163] No other, or more feasible plan presented itself, than that of making interest with his Grace's groom--when the boots were taken down to be cleaned on the morning following his arrival. Perhaps the Duke's _coat_, had it been seen, might have shared the same fate.

The morning gave me an opportunity of examining the town of _Neumarkt_, which is surrounded by a wall, in the _inner_ side of which is a sort of covered corridor (now in a state of great decay) running entirely round the town. At different stations there are wooden steps for the purpose of ascent and descent. In a churchyard, I was startled by the representation of the _Agony in the Garden_ (so often mentioned in this Tour) which was executed in stone, and coloured after the life, and which had every appearance of _reality_. I stumbled upon it, unawares: and confess that I had never before witnessed so startling a representation of the subject. Having quitted Neumarkt, after breakfast, it remained only to change horses at _Feucht_, and afterwards to dine at Nuremberg. Of all cities which I had wished to see, before and since quitting England, NUREMBERG was that upon which my heart seemed to be the most fixed.[164] It had been the nursery of the Fine Arts in Bavaria; one of the favourite residences of Maximilian the Great; the seat of learning and the abode equally of commerce and of wealth during the sixteenth century. It was here too, that ALBERT DURER--perhaps the most extraordinary genius of his age--lived and died: and here I learnt that his tombstone, and the house in which he resided, were still to be seen.

The first view of the spires and turretted walls of Nuremberg[165] filled me with a sensation which it is difficult to describe. Within about five English miles of it, just as we were about to run down the last descent, from the bottom of which it is perfectly level to the very gates of the city--we discovered a group of peasants, chiefly female, busied in carrying barrows, apparently of fire wood, towards the town. On passing them, the attention of Mr. Lewis was caught by one female countenance in particular--so distinguished by a sweetness and benevolence of expression--that we requested the postilion to stop, that we might learn some particulars respecting this young woman, and the mode of life which she followed. She was without stockings; of a strong muscular form, and her face was half buried beneath a large flapping straw hat. We learnt that her parents were engaged in making black lead pencils (a flourishing branch of commerce, at this moment, at Nuremberg) for the wholesale dealers; and they were so poor, that she was glad to get a _florin_ by conveying wood (as we then saw her) four miles to Nuremberg.

It was market-day when we entered Nuremberg, about four o'clock. The inn to which we had been recommended, proved an excellent one: civility, cleanliness, good fare, and reasonable charges--these form the tests of the excellence of the _Cheval Rouge_ at Nuremberg. In our route thither, we passed the two churches of St. _Lawrence_ and St. _Sebald_, of which the former is the largest--and indeed principal place of worship in the town. We also passed through the market-place, wherein are several gothic buildings--more elaborate in ornament than graceful in form or curious from antiquity. The whole square, however, was extremely interesting, and full of population and bustle. The town indeed is computed to contain 30,000 inhabitants. We noticed, on the outsides of the houses, large paintings, as at Ratisbon, of gigantic figures: and every street seemed to promise fresh gratification, as we descended one and ascended another.

My first object, on settling at the hotel, was to seek out the PUBLIC LIBRARY, and to obtain an inspection of some of those volumes which had exercised the pen of DE MURR, in his Latin _Memoirs of the Public Library of Nuremberg_. I was now also in the birthplace of PANZER--another, and infinitely more distinguished bibliographer,--whose _Typographical Annals of Europe_ will for ever render his memory as dear to other towns as to Nuremberg. In short, when I viewed the _Citadel_ of this place--and witnessed, in my perambulations about the town, so many curious specimens of gothic architecture, I could only express my surprise and regret that more substantial justice had not been rendered to so interesting a spot. I purchased every thing I could lay my hand upon, connected with the _published antiquities_ of the town; but that "every thing" was sufficiently scanty and unsatisfactory.

Before, however, I make mention of the Public Library, it may be as well briefly to notice the two churches--- _St. Sebald_ and _St. Lawrence_. The former was within a stone's throw of our inn. Above the door of the western front, is a remarkably fine crucifix of wood--placed, however, in too deep a recess--said to be by _Veit Stoss_. The head is of a very fine form, and the countenance has an expression of the most acute and intense feeling. A crown of thorns is twisted round the brow. But this figure, as well as the whole of the outside and inside of the church, stands in great need of being repaired. The towers are low, with insignificant turrets: the latter evidently a later erection--probably at the commencement of the sixteenth century. The eastern extremity, as well indeed as the aisles, is surrounded by buttresses; and the sharp-pointed, or lancet windows, seem to bespeak the fourteenth, if not the thirteenth century. The great "wonder" of the interior, is the _Shrine of the Saint_,[166] (to whom the church is dedicated,) of which the greater part is silver. At the time of my viewing it, it was in a disjointed state--parts of it having been taken to pieces, for repair: but from Geisler's exquisite little engraving, I should pronounce it to be second to few specimens of similar art in Europe. The figures do not exceed two feet in height, and the extreme elevation of the shrine may be about eight feet. Nor has Geisler's almost equally exquisite little engraving of the richly carved gothic _font_ in this church, less claim upon the admiration of the connoisseur.

The mother church, or Cathedral of _St. Lawrence_, is much larger, and portions of it may be of the latter end of the thirteenth century. The principal entrance presents us with an elaborate door-way--perhaps of the fourteenth century--with the sculpture divided into several compartments, as at Rouen, Strasbourg, and other earlier edifices. There is a poverty in the two towers, both from their size, and the meagerness of the windows; but the slim spires at the summit, are, doubtless, nearly of a coeval date with that which supports them. The bottom of the large circular, or marygold window, is injured in its effect by a gothic balustrade of a later period. The interior of this church has certainly nothing very commanding or striking, on the score of architectural grandeur or beauty; but there are some painted glass-windows--especially by _Volkmar_---which are deserving of particular attention. Nuremberg has one advantage over many populous towns; its public buildings are not choked up by narrow streets: and I hardly know an edifice of distinction, round which the spectator may not walk with perfect ease, and obtain a view of every portion which he is desirous of examining. _The Fraüenkerche_, or the _church of St. Mary_, in the market-place, has a very singular construction in its western front. A double arched door-way, terminated by an arch at the top, and surmounted by a curious triangular projection from the main building, has rather an odd, than a beautiful effect. Above, terminating in an apex--surmounted by a small turret, are five rows of gothic niches, of which the extremities, at each end, narrow--in the fashion of steps, gradually--from the topmost of which range or rows of niches, the turret rises perpendicularly. It is a small edifice, and has been recently doomed to make a very distinguished figure in the imposing lithographic print of Quaglio.[167] The interior of this church is not less singular, as may be seen in the print published about sixty years ago, and yet faithful to its present appearance.

I know not how it was, but I omitted to notice the ci-devant church of _Ste. Claire_, where there is said to be the most ancient stained glass window which exists--that is, of the middle of the thirteenth century; nor did I obtain a sight of the seven pillars of _Adam Kraft_, designating the seven points or stations of the Passion of our Saviour. But in the _Rath-hauz Platz_, in the way to the public library, I used to look with delight--almost every morning of the four days which I spent at Nuremberg--at the fragments of gothic architecture, to the right and left, that presented themselves; and among these, none caught my eye and pleased my taste, so fully, as the little hexagonal gothic window, which has sculptured subjects beneath the mullions, and which was attached to the _Pfarrhof_, or clergyman's residence, of St. Sebald. If ever Mr. Blore's pencil should be exercised in this magical city for gothic art, I am quite persuaded that _this window_ will be one of the subjects upon which its powers will be most successfully employed.

A little beyond, in a very handsome square, called St. Giles's Place, lived the famous ANTHONY KOBERGER; the first who introduced the art of printing into Nuremberg--and from whose press, more Bibles, Councils, Decretals, Chronicles, and scholastic works, have proceeded than probably from any other press in Europe. Koberger was a magnificent printer, using always a bold, rich, gothic letter--and his first book, _Comestorium Vitiorum_, bears the date of 1470.[168] They shew the house, in this square, which he is said to have occupied; but which I rather suspect was built by his nephew JOHN KOBERGER, who was the son of Sebaldus Koberger, and who carried on a yet more successful business than his uncle. Not fewer than seventeen presses were kept in constant employ by him, and he is said to have been engaged in a correspondence with almost every printer and bookseller in Europe. It was my good fortune to purchase an original bronze head of him, of _Messrs. Frauenholz_ and _Co_., one of the most respectable and substantial houses, in the print trade, upon the Continent. This head is struck upon a circular bronze of about seven inches in diameter, bearing the following incription: JOANNES KOBERGER ... SEIN. ALTR. xxxx: that is, John Koberger, in the fortieth year of his age. The head, singularly enough, is _laureated;_ and in the upper part of it are two capital letters, of which the top parts resemble a B or D--and F or E. It is a fine solid piece of workmanship, and is full of individuality of character. From an old ms. inscription at the back, the original should appear to have died in 1522. I was of course too much interested in the history of the Kobergers, not to ask permission, to examine the premises from which so much learning and piety had once issued to the public; and I could not help being struck with at least the _space_ which these premises occupied. At the end of a yard, was a small chapel, which formerly was, doubtless, the printing office or drying room of the Kobergers. The interior of the house was now so completely devoted to other uses, that one could identify nothing. The church of St. Giles, in this place, is scarcely little more than a century old; as a print of it, of the date of 1689, represents the building to be not yet complete.

I shall now conduct the reader at once to the PUBLIC LIBRARY; premising, that it occupies the very situation which it has held since the first book was deposited in it. This is very rarely the case abroad. It is, in fact, a small gothic quadrangle, with the windows modernised; and was formerly a convent of _Dominicans_. M. RANNER, the public librarian, (with whom--as he was unable to speak French, and myself equally unable to speak his own language--I conversed in the Latin tongue) assured me that there was anciently a printing press here--conducted by the Dominicans--who were resolved to print no book but what was the production of one of their own order. I have great doubts about this fact, and expressed the same to M. Ranner; adding, that I had never seen a book so printed; The librarian, however, reiterated his assertion, and said that the monastery was built in the eleventh century. There is certainly no visible portion of it older than the beginning of the fifteenth century. The library itself is on the first floor, and fills two rooms, running parallel with each other; both of them sufficiently dismal and uninviting. It is said to contain 45,000 volumes; but I much question whether there be half that number. There are some precious MSS. of which M. Ranner has published a catalogue in two octavo volumes, in the Latin language, in a manner extremely creditable to himself, and such as to render De Murr's labour upon the same subjects almost useless. Among these MSS. I was shewn one in the Hebrew language--of the eleventh or twelfth century--with very singular marginal illuminations, as grotesques or capriccios; in which the figures, whether human beings, monsters, or animals, were made out by _lines composed of Hebrew characters_, considered to be a gloss upon the text.

As to the _printed books_ of an early date, they are few and unimportant--if the _subject_ of them be exclusively considered. There is a woeful want of _classics_, and even of useful literary performances. Here, however, I saw the far-famed _I. de Turrecremata Meditationes_ of 1467, briefly described by De Murr; of which, I believe, only two other copies are known to exist--namely, one in the Imperial library at Vienna,[169] and the other in the collection of Earl Spencer. It is an exceedingly precious book to the typographical antiquary, inasmuch as it is supposed to be the first production of the press of _Ulric Han_. The copy in question has the plates coloured; and, singularly enough, is bound up in a wooden cover with _Honorius de Imagine Mundi_, printed by Koberger, and the _Hexameron_ of _Ambrosius_, printed by Schuzler in 1472. It is, however, a clean, sound copy; but cut down to the size of the volumes with which it is bound. Here is the _Boniface_ of 1465, by Fust, UPON VELLUM: with a large space on the rectos of the second and third leaves, purposely left for the insertion of ms. or some subsequent correction. The _Durandus of_ 1459 has the first capital letter stamped with red and blue, like the smaller capital initials in the Psalter of 1457. In this first capital initial, the blue is the outer portion of the letter. The _German Bible by Mentelin_ is perfect; but wretchedly cropt, and dirty even to dinginess. Here is a very fine large genuine copy of _Jenson's Quintilian_ of 1471. Of the _Epistles of St. Jerom_, here are the early editions by _Mentelin_ and _Sweynheym_ and _Pannartz_; the latter, of the date of 1470: a fine, large copy--but not free from ms. annotations.

More precious, however, in the estimation of the critical bibliographer--than either, or the whole, of the preceding volumes--is the very rare edition of the _Decameron of Boccaccio_, of the date of 1472, printed at _Mantua, by A. de Michaelibus_.[170] Such a copy as that in the public library at Nuremberg, is in all probability unparalleled: it being, in every respect, what a perfect copy should be--white, large, and in its pristine binding. A singular coincidence took place, while I was examining this extraordinarily rare book. M. Lechner, the bookseller, of whom I shall have occasion to speak again, brought me a letter, directed to his own house, from Earl Spencer. In that letter, his lordship requested me to make a particular collation of the edition of Boccaccio--with which I was occupied at the _very moment of receiving it_. Of course, upon every account, that collation was made. Upon its completion, and asking M. Ranner whether any consideration would induce the curators of the library to part with this volume, the worthy librarian shouted aloud!... adding, that, "not many weeks before, an English gentleman had offered the sum of sixty louis d'or for it,--but not _twice_ that sum could be taken!... and in fact the book must never leave its present quarters--no ... not even for the noble collection in behalf of which I pleaded so earnestly." M. Ranner's manner was so positive, and his voice so sonorous,--that I dreaded the submission of any contre-projet ... and accordingly left him in the full and unmolested enjoyment of his beloved Decameron printed by _Adam de Michaelibus_.

M. Ranner shewed me a sound, fair copy of the _first Florentine Homer_ of 1488; but cropt, with red edges to the leaves. But I was most pleased with a sort of cupboard, or closet-fashioned recess, filled with the first and subsequent editions of all the pieces written by _Melancthon_, I was told that there were more than eight hundred of such pieces. These, and a similar collection from the pens of _Luther_ and _Eckuis_ at Landshut,[171] would, as I conceive, be invaluable repertories for the _History of the Reformation upon the Continent_. Although I examined many shelves of books, for two successive days, in the Public Library of Nuremberg, I am not conscious of having found any thing more deserving of detail than what has been already submitted to the reader.

Of all edifices, more especially deserving of being visited at Nuremberg, the CITADEL is doubtless the most curious and ancient, as well as the most remarkable. It rises to a considerable height, close upon the outer walls of the town, within about a stone's throw of the end of _Albrecht Durer Strasse_--or the street where ALBERT DURER lived--and whose house is not only yet in existence, but still the object of attraction and veneration with every visitor of taste, from whatever part of the world he may chance to come. The street running down, is the street called (as before observed) after Albert Durer's own name; and the _well_, seen about the middle of it, is a specimen of those wells--built of stone--which are very common in the streets of Nuremberg. The house of Albert Durer is now in a very wretched, and even unsafe condition. The upper part is supposed to have been his study. The interior is so altered from its original disposition, as to present little or nothing satisfactory to the antiquary. It would be difficult to say how many coats of whitewash have been bestowed upon the rooms, since the time when they were tenanted by the great character in question.

Passing through this street, therefore, you turn to the right, and continue onwards, up a pretty smart ascent; when the entrance to the citadel, by the side of a low wall--in front of an old tower--presents itself to your attention. It was before breakfast that my companion and self visited this interesting interior, over every part of which we were conducted by a most loquacious _cicerone_, who spoke the French language very fluently, and who was pleased to express his extreme gratification upon finding that his visitors were _Englishmen_. The tower, of the exterior of which there is a very indifferent engraving in the _Singularia Norimbergensia_, and the adjoining chapel, may be each of the thirteenth century; but the tombstone of the founder of the monastery, upon the site of which the present Citadel was built, bears the date of 1296. This tombstone is very perfect; lying in a loose, unconnected manner, as you enter the chapel:--the chapel itself having a crypt-like appearance. This latter is very small.

From the suite of apartments in the older parts of the Citadel, there is a most extensive and uninterrupted view of the surrounding country, which is rather flat. At the distance of about nine miles, the town of _Furth_ (Furta) looks as if it were within an hour's walk; and I should think that the height of the chambers, (from which we enjoyed this view,) to the level ground of the adjacent meadows, could be scarcely less than three hundred feet. In these chambers, there is a little world of curiosity for the antiquary: and yet it was but too palpable that very many of its more precious treasures had been transported to Munich. In the time of Maximilian II., when Nuremberg may be supposed to have been in the very height of its glory, this Citadel must have been worth a pilgrimage of many score miles to have visited. The ornaments which remain are chiefly pictures; of which several are exceedingly precious. Our guide hastened to show us the celebrated two Venuses of _Lucas Cranach_, which are most carefully preserved within folding doors. They are both whole lengths, of the size of life. One of them, which is evidently the inferior picture, is attended by a Cupid; the other is alone, having on a broad red velvet hat--but, in other respects, undraped. For this latter picture, we were told that two hundred louis d'or had been offered and refused--which they well might have been; for I consider it to be, not the only chef-d'oeuvre of L. Cranach, but in truth a very extraordinary performance. There is doubtless something of a poverty of drawing about it; but the colouring glows with a natural warmth which has been rarely surpassed even by Titian. It is one of the most elaborated pictures--yet producing a certain breadth of effect--which can be seen. The other Venus is perhaps more carefully painted--but the effect is cold and poor.

Here is also, by the same artist, a masterly little head of _St. Hubert_; and, near it, a charming portrait of _Luther's wife_, by Hans Holbein; but the back-ground of the latter being red and comparatively recent, is certainly not by the same hand. The countenance is full of a sweet, natural expression; and if this portrait be a faithful one of the wife of Luther, we must give that great reformer credit for having had a good taste in the choice of a wife--as far as _beauty_ is concerned. Here are supposed portraits of _Charlemagne and Sigismund II.,_ by Albert Durer--which exhibit great freedom of handling, and may be considered magnificent specimens of that master's better manner of portrait painting. The heads are rather of colossal size. The draperies are most elaborately executed. I observed here, with singular satisfaction, _two_ of the well-known series of the TWELVE APOSTLES, supposed to be both painted and engraved by Albert Durer. They were _St. John_ and _St. Paul_; the drapery, especially of the latter, has very considerable merit. But probably the most interesting picture to the generality of visitors--and indeed it is one entitled to particular commendation by the most curious and critical--is, a large painting, by _Sandrart_, representing a fête given by the Austrian Ambassador, at Nuremberg, upon the conclusion of the treaty of peace at Westphalia, in 1649, after the well known thirty year's war. This picture is about fourteen feet long, by ten wide. The table, at which the guests are banquetting, is filled by all the great characters who were then assembled upon the occasion. An English knight of the garter is sufficiently conspicuous; his countenance in three quarters, being turned somewhat over his left shoulder. The great fault of this picture is, making the guests to partake of a banquet, and yet to turn all their faces _from it_--in order that the spectator may recognise their countenances. Those who sit at table, are about half the size of life. To the right of them, is a group as large as life, in which Sandrart has introduced himself, as if painting the picture. His countenance is charmingly coloured; but it is a pity that all propriety of perspective is so completely lost, by placing two such differently sized groups in the same chamber. This picture stands wofully in need of being repaired. It is considered--and apparently with justice--to be the CHEF D'OEUVRE of the master. I have hardly ever seen a picture, of its kind, more thoroughly interesting--both on the score of subject and execution; but it is surely due to the memory of an artist, like Sandrart,--who spent the greater part of a long life at Nuremberg, and established an academy of painting there--that this picture ... be at least _preserved_ ... if there be no means of engraving it.

In these curious old chambers, it was to be expected that I should see some _Wohlegemuths_--as usual, with backgrounds in a blaze of gold, and figures with tortuous limbs, pinched-in waists, and caricatured countenances. In a room, pretty plentifully encumbered with rubbish, I saw a charming _Snyders;_ being a dead stag, suspended from a pole. There is here a portrait of _Albert Durer_, by himself; but said to be a copy. If so, it is a very fine copy. The original is supposed to be at Munich. There was nothing else that my visit enabled me to see, particularly deserving of being recorded; but, when I was told that it was in THIS CITADEL that the ancient Emperors of Germany used oftentimes to reside, and make carousal, and when I saw, _now_, scarcely any thing but dark passages, unfurnished galleries, naked halls, and untenanted chambers--I own that I could hardly refrain from uttering a sigh over the mutability of earthly fashions, and the transitoriness of worldly grandeur. With a rock for its base, and walls almost of adamant for its support--situated also upon an eminence which may be said to look frowningly down over a vast sweep of country--THE CITADEL OF NUREMBERG should seem to have bid defiance, in former times, to every assault of the most desperate and enterprising foe. It is now visited only by the casual traveller ... who is frequently startled at the echo of his own footsteps.

While I am on the subject of ancient art--of which so many curious specimens are to be seen in this Citadel--it may not be irrelevant to conduct the reader at once to what is called the _Town Hall_--a very large structure--of which portions are devoted to the exhibition of old pictures. Many of these paintings are in a very suspicious state, from the operations of time and accident; but the great boast of the collection are the Triumphs of Maximilian I, executed by _Albert Durer_--which, however, have by no means escaped injury. I was accompanied in my visit to this interesting collection by Mr. Boerner, a partner in the house of Frauenholz and Co.--and had particular reason to be pleased by the friendliness of his attentions, and by the intelligence of his observations. A great number of these pictures (as I understood) belonged to Messrs. Frauenholz and Co.; and among them, a portrait by _Pens_, struck me as being singularly admirable and exquisite. The countenance, the dress, the attitude, the drawing and colouring, were as perfect as they well might be. But this collection has also suffered from the transportation of many of its treasures to Munich. The rooms, halls, and corridors of this Hôtel de Ville give you a good notion of municipal grandeur.

Nuremberg was once the life and soul of _art_ as well as of _commerce_. The numismatic, or perhaps medallic, productions of her artists, in the XVIth century, might, many of them, vie with the choicest efforts of Greece. I purchased two silver medals, of the period just mentioned, which are absolutely perfect of their kind: one has, on the obverse, the profile of an old man with a flowing beard and short bonnet, with the circumscription of _Ætatis Suæ LXVI._; and, on the reverse, the words _De Coelo Victoria. Anno M.D. XLVI._ surrounding the arms of Bavaria. I presume the head to be a portrait of some ancient Bavarian General; and the inscription, on the reverse, to relate to some great victory, in honour of which the medal was struck. The piece is silver-gilt. The boldness of its relief can hardly be exceeded. The other medal represents the portrait of _Joh. Petreius Typographus, Anno Ætat. Suæ._ IIL. (48), _Anno_ 1545--executed with surprising delicacy, expression, and force. But evidences of the perfect state of art in ancient times, at Nuremberg, may be gathered from almost every street in which the curious visitor walks. On the first afternoon of my arrival here, I was driven, by a shower of rain, into a small shop--upon a board, on the exterior of which were placed culinary dishes. The mistress of the house had been cleaning them for the purpose of shewing them off to advantage on the Sunday. One of these dishes--which was brass, with ornaments in high relief--happened to be rather deep, but circular, and of small diameter. I observed a subject in relief, at the bottom, which looked very like art as old as the end of the fifteenth century--although a good deal worn away, from the regularity pf periodical rubbing. The subject represented the eating of the forbidden fruit. Adam, Eve, the Serpent, the trees, and the fruit--with labels, on which the old gothic German letter was sufficiently obvious--all told a tale which was irresistible to antiquarian feelings. Accordingly I proposed terms of purchase (one ducat) to the good owner of the dish:--who was at first exceedingly surprised at the offer ... wondering what could be seen so particularly desirable in such a homely piece of kitchen furniture ... but, in the end, she consented to the proposal with extraordinary cheerfulness. In another shop, on a succeeding day, I purchased two large brass dishes, of beautiful circular forms, with ornaments in bold relief--and brought the whole culinary cargo home with me. While upon the subject of _old art_--of which there are scarcely a hundred yards in the city of Nuremberg that do not display some memorial, however perishing--I must be allowed to make especial mention of the treasures of BARON DERSCHAU--a respectable old Prussian nobleman, who has recently removed into a capacious residence, of which the chambers in front contain divers old pictures; and one chamber in particular, backward, is filled with curiosities of a singular variety of description.[172] I had indeed heard frequent mention of this gentleman, both in Austria and Bavaria. His reception of me was most courteous, and his conversation communicative and instructive. He _did_, and did _not_, dispose of things. He _was_, and was _not_, a sort of gentleman-merchant. One drawer was filled with ivory handled dirks, hunting knives, and pipe-bowls; upon which the carver had exercised all his cunning skill. Another drawer contained implements of destruction in the shape of daggers, swords, pistols, and cutlasses: all curiously wrought. A set of _Missals_ occupied a third drawer: portfolios of drawings and _prints_, a fourth; and sundry _volumes_, of various and not uninteresting character, filled the shelves of a small, contiguous book-case. Every thing around me bore the aspect of _temptation_; when, calling upon my tutelary genius to defend me in such a crisis, I accepted the Baron's offer, and sat down by the side of him upon a sofa--which, from the singularity of its form and _matériel_, might formerly possibly have supported the limbs of Albert Durer himself.

The Baron commenced the work of _incantation_ by informing me that he was once in possession of the _journal_, or day-book, of Albert Durer:--written in the German language--and replete with the most curious information respecting the manner of his own operations, and of those of his workmen. From this journal, it appeared that Albert Durer was in the habit of _drawing upon the blocks_, and that his men performed the remaining operation of _cutting away the wood_. I frankly confessed that I had long suspected this: and still suspect the same process to have been used in regard to the wood cuts supposed to have been executed by _Hans Holbein_. On my eagerly enquiring what had become of this precious journal, the Baron replied with a sigh--which seemed to come from the very bottom of his heart--that "it had perished in the flames of a house, in the neighbourhood of one of the battles fought between Bonaparte and the Prussians!!" The Baron is both a man of veracity and virtù. In confirmation of the latter, he gave all his very extraordinary collection of original blocks of wood, containing specimens of art of the most remote period of wood engraving, to the Royal University at Berlin--from which collection has been regularly published, those livraisons, of an atlas form, which contain impressions of the old blocks in question.[173] It is hardly possible for a graphic antiquary to possess a more completely characteristic and _beguiling_ publication than this.

On expressing a desire to purchase any little curiosity or antiquity, in the shape of _book_ or _print_, for which the Baron had no immediate use, I was shewn several rarities of this kind; which I did not scruple to request might be laid aside for me--for the purpose of purchasing. Of these, in the book way, the principal were a _Compendium Morale_: a Latin folio, PRINTED UPON VELLUM, without date or name of printer--and so completely unknown to bibliographers, that Panzer, who had frequently had this very volume in his hands, was meditating the writing of a little treatise on it; and was interrupted only by death from carrying his design into execution. It is in the most perfect state of preservation. A volume of _Hours_, and a _Breviary of Cracow_, for the winter part, PRINTED UPON VELLUM--in the German language, exceedingly fair and beautiful. A TERENCE of 1496 (for 9 florins), and the first edition of _Erasmus's Greek Testament_, 1516, for 18 florins. The "_Compendium"_ was charged by the Baron at about 5_l_. sterling. These, with the Austrian historians, Pez, Schard, and Nidanus, formed a tolerably fair acquisition.[174] In the _print_ way, I was fortunate in purchasing a singularly ancient wood-cut of _St. Catherine_, in the peculiarly dotted manner of the fifteenth century. This wood-cut was said to be UNIQUE. At any rate it is very curious and rare; and on my return to England, M. Du Chesne, who is the active director in the department of the prints at Paris, prevailed upon me to part with my St. Catherine--at a price, which sufficiently shewed that he considered it to be no very indifferent object to the royal collection of France. This however was a perfectly secondary consideration. The print was left behind at Paris, as adding something to a collection of unrivalled value and extent, and where there were previously deposited two or three similar specimens of art.

But the Baron laid the greatest stress upon a copper plate impression of a crucifixion, of the date of 1430: which undoubtedly had a very staggering aspect.[175] It is described in the subjoined note; and for reasons, therein detailed, I consider it to be much less valuable than the _St. Catherine_.[176] I also purchased of the Baron a few _Martin Schoens, Albert Durers_, and _Israel Van Mechlins_; and what I preferred to either, is a beautiful little illumination, cut out of an old choral book, or psalter, said, by the vendor, to be the production of _Weimplan_, an artist, at Ulm, of the latter end of the fifteenth century. On my return to England, I felt great pleasure in depositing this choice morceau of ancient art in the very extraordinary collection of my friend Mr. Ottley--at the same price for which I had obtained it--about five and twenty shillings. Upon the whole, I was well satisfied with the result of the "temptation" practised upon me at Baron Derschau's, and left the mansion with my purse lightened of about 340 florins. The Baron was anxious to press a choice _Aldus_ or two upon me; but the word "choice" is somewhat ambiguous: and what was considered to be so at _Nuremberg_, might receive a different construction in _London_. I was, however, anxious to achieve a much nobler feat than that of running away with undescribed printed volumes, or rare old prints--whether from copper or wood. It was at Nuremberg that the EBNER FAMILY had long resided: and where the _Codex Ebnerianus_--a Greek MS. of the New Testament, of the XIIth. century--had been so much celebrated by the elaborate disquisition of De Murr--which is accompanied by several copper plate fac-simile engravings of the style of art in the illuminations of the MS. in question. I had heard that the ancient splendors of the Ebner family had been long impaired; that their library had been partly dispersed; and that THIS VERY MS. was yet to be purchased. I resolved, therefore, to lose no opportunity of becoming possessed of it ... preparing myself to offer a very considerable sum, and trusting that the spirit of some private collector, or public body, in my own country, would not long allow it to be a burden on my hands. Accordingly, by the interposition and kind offices of M. Lechner, the bookseller, I learnt, not only in what quarter the MS. was yet preserved, but that its owners were willing to dispose of it for a valuable consideration. A day and hour were quickly appointed. The gentleman, entrusted with the MS.--M. Lechner as interpreter, my own valet, as interpreter between myself and M. Lechner, who could not speak French very fluently--all assembled at the _Cheval Rouge_: with the CODEX EBNERIANUS, bound in massive silver, lying upon the table between us. It is a small, thick quarto volume; written in the cursive Greek character, upon soft and fair coloured vellum, and adorned with numerous illuminations in a fine state of preservation. Its antiquity cannot surely be carried beyond the XIIth century. On the outside of one of the covers, is a silver crucifix. Upon the whole, this precious book, both from its interior and exterior attractions, operated upon me infinitely more powerfully than the ivory-handled knives, gilt-studded daggers, gorgeous scraps of painting, or antique-looking prints ... of the Baron Derschau.

We soon commenced an earnest conversation; all four of us frequently being upon our legs, and speaking, at the same time. The price was quickly fixed by the owner of the MS.; but not so readily consented to by the proposed purchaser. It was 120 louis d'or. I adhered to the offer of 100: and we were each inflexible in our terms. I believe indeed, that if my 100 louis d'or could have been poured from a bag upon the table, as "argent-comptant," the owner of the MS. _could_ not have resisted the offer: but he seemed to think that, if paper currency, in the shape of a bill, were resorted to, it would not be prudent to adopt that plan unless the sum of 120l. were written upon the instrument. The conference ended by the MS. being carried back to be again deposited in the family where it had so long taken up its abode. It is, however, most gratifying for me to add, that its return to its ancient quarters was only temporary; and that it was destined to be taken from them, for ever, by British spirit and British liberality. When Mr. John Payne visited Germany, in the following year, I was anxious to give him some particulars about this MS. and was sanguine enough to think that a second attempt to carry it off could not fail to be successful. The house of Messrs. Payne and Foss, so long and justly respected throughout Europe, invested their young representative with ample powers for negotiation--and the _Codex Ebnerianus_, after having been purchased by the representative in question, for the sum first insisted upon by the owner--now reposes upon the richly furnished shelves of the BODLEIAN LIBRARY--where it is not likely to repose _in vain_; and from whence no efforts, by the most eminently successful bibliographical diplomatist in Europe, can dislodge it.

I must now say a few words respecting the present state of the FINE ARTS at Nuremberg, and make mention of a few things connected with the vicinity of the town, ere I conduct the reader to Manheim: regretting, however, that I am necessitated to make that account so summary. I consider M. KLEIN to be among the very brightest ornaments of this place, as an artist. I had seen enough of his productions at Vienna, to convince me that his pencil possessed no ordinary powers. He is yet a young man; somewhere between thirty and forty, and leads occasionally a very romantic life--but admirably subservient to the purposes of his art. He puts a knapsack upon his back, filled with merely necessary articles of linen and materials for work--and then stops, draws, eats, drinks, and sleeps where it pleases him: wherever his eye is gratified by strong characteristics of nature--whether on cattle, peasants, soldiers, or Cossacks.

Klein appears to have obtained his exquisite knowledge of animal painting from having been a pupil of GABLER--a professed studier of natural history, and painter of animals. The pupil was unluckily absent from Nuremberg, when I was there; but from many enquiries of his ultimate friends, I learnt that he was of a cheerful, social disposition--fond of good company, and was in particular a very active and efficient member of a _Society of Artists_, which has been recently established at Nuremberg. Klein himself, however, resides chiefly at Vienna--there not being sufficient patronage for him in his native city. His water-coloured drawings, in particular, are considered admirable; but he has lately commenced painting in oil--with considerable success. His _etchings_, of which he has published about one hundred, are in general masterly; but perhaps they are a little too metallic and severe. His observation of nature is at once acute and correct.

In the neighbourhood of Nuremberg--that is to say, scarcely more than an English mile from thence--are the grave and tomb-stone of ALBERT DURER. Dr. Bright having printed that artist's epitaph at length[177]--and it being found in most biographical details relating to him--it need not be here repeated. The monument is simple and striking. In the churchyard, there is a representation of the Crucifixion, cut in stone. It was on a fine, calm evening, just after sunset, that I first visited the tombstone of Albert Durer; and shall always remember the sensations, with which that visit was attended, as among the most pleasing and impressive of my life. The silence of the spot,--its retirement from the city--the falling shadows of night, and the increasing solemnity of every monument of the dead--- together with the mysterious, and even awful effect, produced by the colossal crucifix... but yet perhaps, more than either, the recollection of the extraordinary talents of the artist, so quietly sleeping beneath my feet ... all conspired to produce a train of reflections which may be readily conceived, but not so readily described. If ever a man deserved to be considered as the glory of his age and nation, ALBERT DURER was surely that man. He was, in truth, the Shakspeare of his art--for the _period_.

Notwithstanding I had made every enquiry among the principal booksellers, of _Antiquars_, [178] for rare and curious old volumes, I literally found nothing worth purchasing. The Baron Derschau was doubtless my best friend on this score. Yet I was told that, if I would put a pair of horses to my carriage, and drive, to _Furth_--a short two German mile stage from Nuremberg, and which indeed I had distinctly seen from the windows of the citadel--I should find there, at a certain Antiquar's, called HEERDEGEN, an endless, variety of what was precious and curious in the department of which I was in search. Accordingly, I put the wheels of my carriage in motion, within twenty-four hours of receiving the intelligence. The road to Furth is raised from the level of the surrounding country, and well paved in the centre. It is also lined by poplar trees, a great part of the way. I have reason to remember this visit for many a long day. Having drove to M. Heerdegen's door, I was received with sufficient courtesy; and was told to mount to the top of the house, where the more ancient books were kept, while he, M. Heerdegen, settled a little business below. That business consisted in selling so many old folios, by the pound weight, in great wooden scales;--the vendor, all the time, keeping up a cheerful and incessant conversation. The very _sight_ of this transaction was sufficient to produce an hysterical affection--and, instead of mounting upwards, I stood--stock still--wondering at such an act of barbarity! Having requested permission to open the volumes in question, and finding them to contain decretals, and glosses upon councils, I recovered myself by degrees ... and leisurely walked to the very topmost floor of the house.

M. Heerdegen was not long after me. He is a most naïf character; and when he is pleased with a customer, he presents him with an india ink drawing of his own portrait. On receiving this testimony of his approbation, I did not fail to make my proper acknowledgements: but, with respect to the books with which I was to load my carriage, there was scarcely a shadow of hope, of even securing a dozen volumes worth transporting to the banks of the Rhine. However, after three hours pretty severe labour--having opened and rejected I know not how many books of Medicine, Civil and Canon Law, Scholastic Divinity, Commentaries upon Aristotle, and disputations connected with Duns Scotus, together with a great number of later impressions of the Latin Bible in the XVth century--I contrived to get a good _Latin Plutarch_, some pretty Aldine octavos, a few _Lochers_ and _Brandts_, a rare little German poetical tract, of four leaves, called the _Wittemberg Nightingale_, and an _Italian Bible_ printed by the _Giuntæ_, which had belonged to _Melancthon_, and contained his autograph:--all which, with some pieces by _Eckius_, _Schottus_, and _Erasmus_, to the amount of 4_l._ 4_s._ of English money, were conveyed with great pomp and ceremony below.

However, I had not been long with M. Heerdegen, before a clergyman, of small stature and spare countenance, made his appearance and saluted me. He had seen the carriage pass, and learnt, on enquiry, that the traveller within it had come expressly to see M. Heerdegen. He introduced himself as the curate of the neighbouring church, of which M. Fronmüller was the rector or pastor: adding, that _his own_ church was the only place of Christian worship in the village. This intelligence surprised me; but the curate, whose name was _Link_, continued thus: "This town, Sir, consists of a population of ten thousand souls, of which four-fifths are _Jews;_ who are strictly forbidden to sleep within the walls of Nuremberg. It is only even by a sort of courtesy, or sufferance, that they are allowed to transact business there during the day time." M. Link then begged I would accompany him to his own church, and to the rector's house--taking his own house in the way. There was nothing particularly deserving of notice in the church, which has little claim to antiquity. It had, however, a good organ. The rector was old and infirm. I did not see him, but was well pleased with his library, which is at once scholar-like and professional. The library of the curate was also excellent of its kind, though limited, from the confined means of its owner. It is surprising upon what small stipends the Protestant clergy live abroad; and if I were to mention that of M. Link, I should only excite the scepticism of my readers.

I was then conducted through the village--which abounded with dirty figures and dirty faces. The women and female children were particularly disgusting, from the little attention paid to cleanliness. The men and boys were employed in work, which accounted for their rough appearance. The place seems to swarm with population--and if a plague, or other epidemic disorder should prevail, I can hardly conceive a scene in which it is likely to make more dreadful havoc than at _Furth_. Although I had not obtained any thing _very special_ at this place, in the book way, I was yet glad to have visited it--were it only for the sake of adding one more original character to the _bibliopolistic fraternity_ upon the Continent. In spite of the very extraordinary _line_ of business which M. Heerdegen chooses to follow, I have reason to think that he "turns a good penny" in the course of the year; but own that it was with surprise I learnt that Mr. Bohn, the bookseller of Frith Street,[179] had preceded me in my visit--and found some historical folios which he thought well worth the expense of conveyance to England.

It remains only to return for a few hours to Nuremberg, and then to conduct the reader to Manheim. One of the four days, during which I remained at Nuremberg, happened to be _Sunday_; and of all places upon the Continent, Sunday is, at Nuremberg, among the gayest and most attractive. The weather was fine, and the whole population was alternately within and without the city walls. Some Bavarian troops of cavalry were exercising near the public walks, and of course a great multitude was collected to witness their manoeuvres. On casting my eye over this concourse of people, attired in their best clothes, I was particularly struck with the head dresses of the women: composed chiefly of broad-stiffened riband, of different colours, which is made to stick out behind in a flat manner--not to be described except by the pencil of my graphic companion. The figure, seen in the frontispiece of the third volume of this work, is that of the _Fille de chambre_ at our hotel, who was habited in her Sunday attire; and it displays in particular the riband head-dress--which was of black water-tabby sarsenet. But as these ribands are of different colours, and many of them gay and gorgeous, their appearance, in the open air--and where a great number of people is collected, and in constant motion--is that, as it were, of so many moving suns. In general, the _Nurembergeoises_ have little pretensions to beauty: they are; however, active, civil, and intelligent.

It is rarely one takes leave of an hotel with regret when every days journey brings us sensibly nearer home. But it is due to the kind treatment and comfortable lodgings, of which I partook at Nuremberg; to say, that no traveller can leave the _Cheval Rouge_ without at least wishing that all future inns which he visits may resemble it. We left Nuremberg after dinner, resolving to sleep at _Ansbach_; of which place the Margrave and Margravine were sufficiently distinguished in our own country. I had received a letter of introduction to Monsieur Le Comte de Drechsel, President de la Regence--and President of the corporation of Nuremberg--respecting the negotiation for the Boccaccio of 1472; from which, however, I augured no very favourable result. The first stage from Nuremberg is _Kloster Heilbronn_: where, on changing horses, the master of the inn pressed me hard to go and visit the old church, which gives the name to the village, and which was said to contain some curious old paintings by Albert Durer: but there was literally no time--and I began to be tired ... almost of Albert Durers! At Ansbach we drove to the _Crown_, a large and excellent inn. It was nightfall when we entered the town, but not so dark as to render the size and extent of the Margrave's palace invisible, nor so late as to render a visit to two booksellers, after a late cup of tea, impracticable. At one place, I found something in the shape of old books, but purchased nothing--except an edition of Boccaccio's Tales, in French, with the well known plates of Roman Le Hooge, 1701. 8vo. It was loosely bound in sorry calf, but a florin could not be considered too much for it, even in its sombre state. The other bookseller supplied, by the tender of his friendly offices, the deficiencies of his collection--which, in fact, consisted of nothing but a stock of modern publications.

The next morning I visited the Comte Drechsel--having first written him a note, and gently touched upon the point at issue. He received me with courtesy; and I found him particularly intelligent--but guarded in every expression connected with any thing like the indulgence, even of a hope, of obtaining the precious volume in question. He would submit my proposition to the municipality. He understood English perfectly well, and spoke French fluently. I had received intimation of a collection of rare and curious old books, belonging to a Mr...., in the environs of Ansbach; who, having recently experienced some misfortunes, had meditated the sale of his library. The owner had a pretty country house, scarcely a stone's throw from the outskirts of the town, and I saw his wife and children--but no books. I learnt that these latter were conveyed to the town for the purpose of sale; and having seen a few of them, I left a commission for a copy of _Fust and Schoeffher's_ edition of Pope Boniface's Councils of 1465, UPON VELLUM. I have never heard of the result of the sale.

From Ansbach to _Heilbronn_, which can be scarcely less than sixty English miles, few things struck me on the road more forcibly than the remains of a small old church and cloisters at _Feuchtwang_--where we stopped to change horses, the first stage after Ansbach. It rained heavily, and we had only time to run hastily through these very curious old relics, which, if appearances formed the test of truth, might, from the colour of the stone and the peculiarity of the structure, have been old enough to designate the first christian place of worship established in Germany. The whole, however, was upon a singularly small scale. I earnestly recommend every English antiquary to stop longer than we did at Feuchtwang. From thence to _Heilbronn_, we passed many a castle-crowned summit, of which the base and adjacent country were covered by apparently impenetrable forests of fir and elm; but regretted exceedingly that it was quite nightfall when we made the very steep and _nervous_ entrance into _Hall_--down a mountainous descent, which seemed to put the carriage on an inclined plane of forty-five degrees. We were compelled to have four horses, on making the opposite ascent; and were even preceded by boys, with links and torches, over a small bridge, under which runs a precipitous and roaring stream. Hall is a large, lively, and much frequented town.

_Heilbronn_, or _Hailbrunn_, is a large consequential town; and parts of it are spacious, as well as curious from appearances of antiquity. The large square, where we changed horses, was sufficiently striking; and the Hotel de ville in particular was worthy of being copied by the pencil of my companion. But we were only passing travellers, anxious to reach Manheim and to cross the Rhine. The country about Heilbronn is picturesque and fertile, and I saw enough to convince me that two days residence there would not be considered as time thrown away. It is one of the principal towns in the kingdom of Wirtemberg, and situated not many leagues from the Black Forest, or _Schwartz Wald_, where wild boars and other wild animals abound, and where St. Hubert (for aught I know to the contrary) keeps his nocturnal revels in some hitherto unfrequented glen ... beneath the radiance of an unclouded moon.

But if _Heilbronn_ be attractive, from the imposing appearance of the houses, _Heidelberg_ is infinitely more so; containing a population of nine thousand inhabitants. We reached this latter place at dinner time, on Sunday--but as it rained heavily for the last hour previous to our entrance, we could not take that survey of the adjacent country which we so much desired to do. Yet we saw sufficient to delight us infinitely: having travelled along the banks of the river _Neckhar_ for the last three or four miles, observing the beautifully wood-crowned hills on the opposite side. But it is the CASTLE, or OLD PALACE of HEIDELBERG--where the Grand Dukes of Baden, or old Electors Palatine, used to reside--and where the celebrated TUN, replenished with many a score hogshead of choice Rhenish wine--form the grand objects of attraction to the curious traveller. The palace is a striking edifice more extensive than any thing I had previously seen; but in the general form of its structure, so like _Holland House_ at Kensington, that I hesitated not one moment to assign the commencement of the sixteenth century, as the period of the building in question. The date of 1607,[180] cut in stone, over one of the principal doors, confirmed my conjecture.

I now looked eagerly on all sides--observing what portions were more or less dilapidated, and wondering at the extent and magnificence of the building. Room after room, corridor succeeding corridor--saloons, galleries, banquetting apartments, each and all denuded of its once princely furniture--did not fail to strike my imagination most forcibly. Here was the _Hall of Chivalry_, which had been rent asunder by lightning: yonder, a range of statues of the old _Electors Counts Palatine_:--a tier of granite columns stood in another direction, which had equally defied the assaults of the foe and the ravages of time. In one part, looking down, I observed an old square tower, which had been precipitated in consequence (as I learnt) of an explosion of gunpowder. It was doubtless about a century older than the building from which I observed it. On an eminence, almost smothered with larch and lime, and nearly as much above ourselves as we were from the town, stand the ruins of another old castle ... the residence of the older Counts Palatine. The whole scene was full of enchantment to an antiquarian traveller; and I scarcely knew how to quit one portion of it for another.

The terrace, at the back of the castle, forms a noble and commanding walk. Here, in former days, the counts and dukes of the empire, with all their trains of duchesses and damoiselles, used to parade in full pomp and magnificence, receiving the homage of their dependants, and the applause of the townsmen. From hence, indeed, they might have looked down, in the proud spirit of disdain, upon their vassal subjects:--or, in case of rebellion, have planted their cannon and pulverised their habitations in a little hour. It is hardly possible to conceive a more magnificent situation ... but now, all is silence and solitude. The wild boar intrudes with impunity into the gardens--and the fowls of heaven roost within those spacious chambers, which were once hung with rich arras, or covered with gorgeous tapestry. Scarcely three human beings ... who seem to sleep out their existence ... are now the tenants of THAT MANSION, where once scarcely fewer than one hundred noblemen with their attendants, found comfortable accommodations. A powerful, and yet not unpleasing melancholy, touches the heart ... as one moves leisurely along these speaking proofs of the mutability of earthly grandeur.

No man visits this proud palace without visiting also the equally celebrated TUN--of which _Merian_, in his well known views, has supplied us with a print or two. It is placed in the lower regions of the palace, in a room by itself--except that, by the side of it, there stands a small cask which may hold a hogshead, and which is considered to be the _ne plus ultra_ of the art of cooperage. It is made in the neatest and closest- fitting manner imaginable, without either a nail, or piece of iron, or encircling hoop; and I believe it to be nearly as old as the _great Tun_. This latter monstrous animal, of his species, is supported by ribs--of rather a picturesque appearance--which run across the belly of the cask, at right angles with the staves. As a WINE CASK, it has long maintained its proud distinction of being the _largest in the world_. A stair-case is to the right of it, leading to a little square platform at the top; upon which frolicksome lads and lasses used, in former days, to dance, when the tub had been just filled with the produce of the passing year's vintage. The guide told us that one Elector or Grand Duke, I think it was CHARLES THEODORE, had immortalised himself, by having, during his regency, caused the great tun of Heidelberg to be fairly _twice emptied_;--"those (added he) were golden days, never to return. At present, and for a long time past, the cask is filled almost to the very top with _mere lees_." In an adjoining cellar, I was shewn a set of casks, standing perpendicularly, called the _Twelve Apostles_. The whole of this subterraneous abode had, I must confess, a great air of hospitality about it; but when I mentioned to the guide the enormous size of those casks used by our principal London brewers--compared with which, even the "GREAT TUN" was a mere TEA-CUP--he held up his hands, shook his head, and exclaimed with great self- satisfaction... "cela ne se peut pas être!"

After I had dined, I called upon M. Schlosser, one of the professors of the University--for which this town is rather celebrated.[181] Attached to this University, is a famous _Library of MSS. and printed books_--but more especially of the former. It has been long known under the name of the _Palatine Library;_ and having been seized and transported to the Vatican, at the conclusion of the thirty years war, and from thence carried to Paris, was, in the year 1815, at the urgent intercession of the King of Prussia, restored to its ancient-resting-place. What "a day of joyance" was that when this restoration took place! M. Schlosser adverted to it with a satisfaction amounting... almost to rapture. That gentleman made me a present of the first part of his _Universal Biography_, published at _Franckfort on the Main_, the preceding year, in 8vo.--in the German language--with copious and erudite notes. He shewed me the earlier printed volumes of the Public Library; of which, having unluckily lost the few memoranda I had taken--but which I believe only included the notice of a _first Caesar_, _first Suetonius_, and _first Tacitus_--I am not able to give any particular details. M. Schlosser conversed a good deal, and very earnestly, about Lord Spencer's library--and its probable ultimate destination; seeming to dread its "_dispersion_" as a national calamity.

It was late in the afternoon, when darkness was rather prematurely coming on--and the rain descending almost in torrents--that I left Heidelberg for MANHEIM--the _ultima Thule_ of my peregrinations on the German side of the Rhine. The road is nearly straight, in good order, and lined with poplar trees. People of all descriptions--on foot, in gigs, carriages, and upon horseback--were hastening home--as upon a Sunday evening with _us_:--anxious to escape the effects of a soaking rain. Unfavourable as the weather was, I could not help looking behind, occasionally, to catch glimpses of the magnificent palace of Heidelberg; which seemed to encrease, in size and elevation as we continued to leave it in the rear. The country, also, on the other side of the _Neckhar_, was mountainous, wooded, and picturesque: the commencement of that chain of hills, which, extending towards _Mayence_ and _Cologne_, form the favourite and well known scenery which Englishmen delight to visit. As my eye ran along this magnificent range, I could not but feel something approaching to deep regret ... that _other_ causes, besides those of the lateness of the season, operated in preventing me from pursuing my course in that direction. It was impossible ... however I might have wished to visit the cities where _Fust_ and _Schoeffher_ and _Ulric Zel_ are supposed to lie entombed, and where the FIRST PRODUCTIONS OF THE PRESS were made public--it was impossible for me to do otherwise than to make Manheim the _colophon_ of my bibliographical excursion. The glass had been _turned_ for some time past, and the sand was fast running out.

It was rather late when we drove to the _Golden Fleece_ at Manheim, the best inn in the town--and situated in a square, which, when we visited it, was filled by booths: it being fair time. With difficulty we got comfortable lodgings, so extremely crowded was the inn. The court-yard was half choked up with huge casks of Rhenish wine, of different qualities; most of them destined for England--and all seemed to be agitation and bustle. The first night of my arrival was a night of mixed pleasure and pain, by the receipt of nearly a dozen letters from Vienna, Munich, Stuttgart, and London, collectively: the whole of which had been purposely directed to this place. The contents of the Stuttgart letter have been already detailed to the reader.[182] The first object of my visitation at Manheim, on the morrow, was the house of DOM. ARTARIA--known, throughout the whole of Germany, as the principal mercantile house for books, prints, and pictures.[183] With these objects of commerce, was united that of _banking_: forming altogether an establishment of equal prosperity and respectability. The house is situated in the principal square, at the corner of one of the streets running into it. It has a stone front, and the exterior is equally as attractive in appearance, as the interior is from substantial hospitality. The civility, the frankness, the open-heartedness of my reception here was, if possible, more warm and encouraging than in any previous place in Germany; and what rendered the whole perfectly delightful, was, the thorough English-like appearance of every thing about me. Books, prints, pictures--and household furniture of every description--bespoke the judicious and liberal taste of the owner of the mansion; while the large and regular supplies of letters and despatches, every morning, gave indication of a brisk and opulent commerce. It so happened that, the very first morning of my visit to M. Artaria, there arrived trucks, filled with boxes and bales of goods purchased at the Frankfort fair--which had not been long over. In some of these ponderous cases, were pictures of the old masters; in others, _prints_.. chiefly from Paris and London,[184] and principally from the house of Messrs. Longman and Co. in Paternoster row. Among these latter, was a fine set of the _Bibliotheca Topographica Britannica,_ in ten volumes, 4to. bound in russia--which had been bespoke of M. Artaria by some Bavarian Count: and which must have cost that Count very little short of 120 guineas. The shelves of the front repository were almost wholly filled with English books, in the choicest bindings; and dressed out to catch and captivate the susceptible _bibliomaniac_, in a manner the most adroit imaginable. To the left, on entrance, were two rooms filled with choice paintings; many of them just purchased at the Frankfort fair. Some delicious Flemish pictures, among which I particularly noticed a little _Paul Potter_--valued at five hundred guineas--and some equally attractive Italian performances, containing, among the rest, a most desirable and genuine portrait of _Giovanni Bellini_--valued at one hundred and fifty guineas--were some of the principal objects of my admiration.

But, more interesting than either, in my humble judgment, and yet not divested of a certain vexatious feeling, arising from an ignorance of the original--was a portrait, painted in oil, of the size of life, quite in the manner of _Hans Holbein_ ... yet with infinitely more warmth and power of carnation-tint. It was alive--and looked you through, as you entered the room. Few galleries, of portraits contain a more perfect specimen of the painting of the times. For the original, I believe, M. Artaria asked three hundred guineas.[185]

The purse and table of M. Artaria were as open and as richly furnished as were his repositories of books and pictures; and I was scolded because I had not made _his house_ my head quarters during my residence at Manheim. I dined with him, however, twice out of the four days of my stay; and was indifferent to plays and public places of resort, in the conversation and company which I found at his house. Yet it was during the circulation of his double-quart bottles of old Rhenish wine--distributed with a liberality not to be exceeded by the Benedictines at the monastery at Göttwic, and yet more exquisite and choice in its flavour--that the gallant host poured forth the liberal sentiments which animated a bosom... grateful to providence for the success that had crowned his steadily and well directed labours! I never saw a man upon whom good fortune sat more comfortably, or one whom it was so little likely to spoil. Half of my time was spent in the house of M. Artaria, because there I found the kind of society which I preferred--and which contained a mixture of the antiquary and collector, with the merchant and man of the world. After this, who shall say that a fac-simile of his Autograph (now that he is NO MORE!) can be unacceptable even to the most fastidious.

Among the antiquaries, were Messrs. TRAITEUR and KOCH. The former had been public librarian at Munich; and related to me the singular anecdote of having picked up the _first Mentz Bible_, called the _Mazarine_, for a few francs at Nancy. M. Traiteur is yet enthusiastic in his love of books, and shewed me the relics of what might have been a curious library. He has a strange hypothesis, that the art of printing was invented at _Spire;_ on account of a medal having been struck there in 1471, commemorative of that event; which medal was found during the capture of that place about two centuries ago. He fixed a very high price--somewhere about forty pounds--upon the medal; which, however, I never saw. He hoped (and I hope so too, for his own sake) that the Prince Royal of Bavaria would offer him that sum for it, to enrich his collection at Munich. M. Traiteur talked largely of a German book in his possession, with the express date of 1460; but though I was constantly urging him to shew it to me, he was not able to put his hand upon it. I bought of him, however, about ten pounds worth of books, among which was the _Life of St. Goar _, printed by _Schoeffher_ in 1481, quarto--the date of which had been artfully altered to 1470--by scratching out the final xi. This was not the knavery of the vender. M. Traiteur _offered_ me the _Tewrdanckhs_ of 1517, upon paper, for ten pounds: a sum, much beyond what I considered to be its real worth--from the copy having been half bound, and a good deal cropt. He was incessant in his polite attentions to me.

M. Koch had been, if he be not yet, a grocer; but was so fond of rare old books, that he scarcely ever visited his canisters and sugar-loaves. I bought some very curious little pieces of him, to the amount of ten or twelve guineas: among which, was the strange and excessively rare tract, in Latin and German, entitled _De Fide Concubinarum in Sacerdotes_, of which a very particular account appears in the _Bibliographical Decameron_, vol. i. p. 229, 235. His simplicity of manners and friendliness of disposition were equally attractive; and I believe if he had possessed the most precious Aldine Classics, upon vellum, I could have succeeded in tempting him to part with them.

The town of Manheim is large, neat, and populous; containing 20,000 souls. The streets run generally at right angles, and are sufficiently airy and wide. But, compared with the domestic architecture of Augsburg, Munich, and Vienna, the houses are low, small, and unornamented. The whole place has much the appearance of a handsome provincial town in England. There are gardens and public walks; but the chief of these is connected with the old red-stone palace of the former Elector Palatine. The Rhine terminates these walks on one side; and when I visited them, which was twice during my stay, that river was running with a rapid and discoloured current. The Rhine is broad here; but its banks are tame. A mound is raised against it, in some parts, to prevent partial overflows, and a fine terrace crowns its summits. A bridge of boats, over which you pass into France, is immediately in view. Upon the whole, these gardens, which seem to be laid out in the English fashion, and which are occasionally varied by some pleasing serpentine walks, are left in a sad state of neglect. The breeze from the river plays freely along the osiers and willows, with which its banks are plentifully planted; and I generally felt refreshed by half an hour's walk upon the broad, dry, gravel terrace, which comes close up to the very windows of the palace. The palace itself is of an enormous size--but is now bereft of every insignia of royalty. It is chiefly (as I understood) a depôt for arms.

I ought to mention, among the social gratifications, of which I partook at Manheim, that arising from the kind attentions of M. ACKERMANN; a gentleman, retired from business, and residing in the place or square:--devoting the evening of a bachelor's life to the amusement resulting from a small but well chosen collection of coins and medals. He shewed me several of surprising delicacy and finish ... more especially of the sixteenth century, executed at Nuremberg--and tempted me to become a purchaser of the _Gold Royal_ of our _Edward IV._, for which I offered him five louis. As he thought himself handsomely paid, he presented me, in addition, with a beautiful silver medal of the sixteenth century--struck at Nuremberg--of which particular mention has been made in a preceding, page.[186] One of my visits to M. Ackermann was diversified by the sight of a profusion of fine grapes, of both colours, which had been just gathered from his garden--within the suburbs of the town:--where, indeed, a number of finely trimmed gardens, belonging to the citizens of Manheim, are kept in the highest state of cultivation. The vintage had now set through-out Germany and France; and more delicious grapes than those presented to me by M.A., could seldom be partaken of. Yet I know not if they were quite equal to those of Ratisbon and Heilbrunn. Passing along a very extensive vineyard, we stopped--requesting the valet to alight, and try to procure us some of the tempting fruit in view ... in order to slake our thirst during a hot journey. In a second he disappeared, and in a minute reappeared--with a bunch of black grapes--so large, full, and weighty ... that I question if Van Huysum or De Heem ever sat down to such a model for the exercise of their unrivalled pencils. The juice of this bunch was as copious and delicious as the exterior was downy and inviting. We learnt, however, that these little acts of depredation were not always to be committed with impunity; for that, in the middle of extensive fields, when the grape was ripe enough to be gathered, watch-boxes were placed--and keepers within these boxes were armed with carbines, loaded with something more weighty than _powder_!

It only remains to mention, that, having left particular directions with the house of M. Artaria, to forward all _the_ cases which had been consigned to me, at their own house, from Vienna and Nuremberg, to that of Messrs. Arch and Co., booksellers, Cornhill, I had nothing to do but renew my letter of credit, and pass over the Rhine into France. I started immediately after dinner, from M. Artaria's house; horses having been brought to the door.

MANHEIM TO PARIS.

About four o'clock we passed over the bridge of boats, across the Rhine, and changed horses at _Ogersheim_ and _Spire_, sleeping at _Germezsheim_. The Rhine flows along the meadows which skirt the town of Spire; and while the horses were changing, we took a stroll about the cathedral. It is large, but of a motley style of architecture--and, in part, of a Moorish cast of character. Nothing but desolation appears about its exterior. The roof is sunk, and threatens to fall in every moment. No service (I understood) was performed within--but in a contiguous garden were the remains of a much older edifice, of an ecclesiastical character. Around, however, were the traces of devastation and havoc--the greater part arising from the bullets and cannon balls of the recent campaigns. It was impossible, however, for a _typographical antiquary_ to pass through this town, without feeling some sensations approaching to a sort of pleasing melancholy: for HERE were born the TWO SPIRAS--or _John and Vindelin de Spira_--who introduced the art of printing into Venice. I do not suppose that there exists any relic of domestic architecture here old enough to have been contemporaneous with the period of their births.

The journey to Paris, through the route we took, was such--till we reached _St. Avold_, about two hundred and fifty English miles from the capital--as is never likely to induce me to repeat the attempt. The continuation of the chain of mountains called the _Vosges_, running northerly from Strasbourg downwards--renders the road wearisome, and in parts scarcely passable--as the government has recently paid no attention to its reparation. _Landau_, _Weissenbourg_, and _Bitche_ are the principal fortified towns; the latter, indeed, boasts of a commanding fort--upon a very elevated piece of ground, ranked among the more successful efforts of Vauban. The German language continued chiefly to be spoken among the postilions and lower orders, till we left _Forbach_ for _St. Avold_. At _Landau_, about three hundred and sixty miles from Paris, I parted with my valet--- for Strasbourg; under the impression that he would be glad to resume his acquaintance with me, on any future occasion: at the same time he seemed to long to be taken with us to _London_--a city, of all others, he said, he was desirous of seeing. He had also half imbibed the notion that its streets were paved with gold.

_Metz_ is a noble city: finely situated, strongly fortified, and thickly inhabited. The _Moselle_ encircles a portion of it in a very picturesque manner. The inn, called the _Cheval Blanc_, should rather be that of _Cheval Noir_--if it take its epithet from the colour of the interior--for a dirtier hotel can scarcely exist. It was a fine moonlight night when we left Metz, on a Sunday, resolving to sleep two stages on the road. The next day we dined at _Dombasle_, a stage beyond _Verdun_; and were within about seventy miles of _Chalons sur Marne_. The vintage and the fruits of Autumn were now rich and abundant on all sides. The fields were all purple, and the orchards all red and gold. Wine casks, stained with the gushing juice, met us between every stage; while on the right hand and left, we saw the women walking beneath their perpendicular baskets, laden with the most bountiful produce of the vineyard. Such a year of plenty had hardly been remembered within the oldest memory. Mean time, the song and the roundelay were heard from all quarters; and between _Dombasle_ and _Clermont_, as we ascended a wooded height, with the sun setting in a flame of gold, in front--we witnessed a rural sight, connected with the vintage, which was sufficient to realise all the beautiful paintings ever executed by _Watteau_ and _Angelis_.

It was late when we reached _Chalons_. The next day, we started for _Rheims_, and stopped at _Sillery_ in our way--the last stage on that side of it. The day was really oppressive--although we were in the middle of October. At Sillery we drank some Champagne--for which it is famous--the produce of the same year's vintage. It had not been made a fortnight--and tasted rather sharp and strong. This, we were triumphantly told, was the sure test of its turning out excellent. We were infinitely delighted with Rheims, more especially with THE CATHEDRAL. The western porches--and particularly that on the north side--are not less beautifully, than they are elaborately, sculptured. The interior, immediately within the western porches--or rather on the reverse sides of them--presents sculpture of admirable workmanship:--of the fourteenth century. But the porches appeared much lower than I had imagined. In the nave is an isolated roman sculpture,[187] of the lower age, cut in a block of marble--and unconnectedly placed there. This has been engraved in the _Antiquité Expliquée_ of _Montfaucon_. At the further end of the choir, is an elaborately sculptured modern monument--containing many beautiful figures in white marble:--upon the whole, one of the most interesting which I had seen upon the Continent. The upper part of the exterior of the cathedral, on the south side, is very elegantly carved; but the towers are short, and under repair. The lower part of the south exterior of the cathedral is entirely marred, as to picturesque effect, by the recent buildings attached to it. Upon the whole, however, the Cathedral at Rheims is a very pure and interesting specimen of Gothic architecture. Nor must I omit an anecdote connected with its present state of preservation. That it escaped the ravages of the revolution, was owing, as I learnt, to the respect which was paid to the Curé of some neighbouring parish. He came down to the armed multitude, when they were ripe for every species of destruction. He told them--they might take his LIFE ... but entreated them to spare the MOTHER CHURCH. They spared both: but many marks of their devastation are yet seen; and pieces of old sculpture, dragged from their original places of destination, are stuck about in different parts, over shopkeepers' doors. I could have filled a caravan with several curious specimens of this kind:--which would have been joyfully viewed by many a Member of the Society of Antiquaries. The population of Rheims is estimated at about thirty thousand. It appears to be situated in a fertile and picturesque country.

As the weather continued not only serene, but almost sultry--and as we began to be weary of packing and unpacking, and sleeping at so many different inns in the route--I resolved upon travelling all night, and pushing on at once for Paris: where our fatigue would have a temporary cessation. I left, therefore, this venerable city about six o'clock in the evening--intending to travel without intermission till I reached my old quarters at the _Hôtel des Colonies_, in the _Rue de Richelieu_. The road is paved in the middle, the whole way to Paris; but we were careful to avoid the centre. In other respects, this road is broad, and has a noble appearance. As we quitted Rheims, and were gaining the height of the first hill, on the Paris side, we turned round to take a farewell view of the venerable cathedral. It will be long ere I forget that view. The moon, now at full, was rising--in unclouded majesty--just above the summit of the old towers of the cathedral. Her orb was clear, pale, and soft; and yet completely irradiated. The towers and western front were in a cold, gray tint: the houses, of inferior dimensions, were shrunk to insignificancy. There was, therefore, nothing but a cloudless sky, a full moon, and the cathedral of Rheims:--objects, upon which the eye rests, and the imagination riots... as ours did ... till a turning of the road shut out the scenery from our view.

It was considerably past midnight when I reached _Soissons_--the principal town between Rheims and Paris. I breakfasted at _Dammartin_. About mid-day I entered Paris, and found the hostess of the _Hôtel des Colonies_, (who had been apprised by letter of our intention of returning thither) perfectly disposed to give me a cordial reception, after an absence of about three months. Having settled my affairs, and enjoyed a short repose at Paris of a fortnight, I returned with my companion, by the diligence, to Calais; and landed at Dover within about six months, and a half of my departure from Brighton to Dieppe. Although my tour was carried on in the most favourable of seasons--and with every sort of comfort, and attention arising from letters of recommendation, and hospitable receptions in consequence--yet I had undergone, from a constant state of excitement and occupation, a great deal of bodily and mental fatigue; and I question if poor Park, ... had it pleased Providence to have allowed him to re-visit his native shore... would have retouched BRITISH EARTH with greater joy than I experienced, when, leaping from the plank, put out from the boat, I planted my foot upon the shingles at DOVER ...

... _reddens landes Domino_.[188]

[157] The Emperor of Austria having stopped at this hotel, the landlord asked his permission to call it from henceforth by his _Majesty's name_; which was readily granted. There is an _Album_ here, in which travellers are requested to inscribe their names, and in which I saw the _imperial autograph_.

[158] Especially in the striped broad shoes; which strongly resemble those in the series of wood-cuts descriptive of the triumphs of the Emperor Maximilian.

[159] There is a lithographic print of it recently published, from the drawing of Quaglio--of the same folio size with the similar prints of Ulm and Nuremburg. The date of the _towers_ of the Cathedral of Ratisbon may be ascertained with the greatest satisfaction. From the _Nuremberg Chronicle_ of 1493 folio xcviii, recto, it appears that when the author (Hartmann Schedel) wrote the text of that book, "the edifice was yet incomplete." This incomplete state, alludes, as I suspect, to the towers; for in the wood-cut, attached to the description, there is a crane fixed upon the top of _one_ of the towers, and a stone being drawn up by it--this tower being one story shorter than the other. Schedel is warm in commendation of the numerous religious establishments, which, in his time, distinguished the city of Ratisbon. Of that of St. Emmeran, the following note supplies some account.

[160] Lord Spencer possesses some few early Classics from this monastic library, which was broken up about twenty years ago. His Lordship's copy of the _Pliny of_ 1469, folio, from the same library, is, in all probability, the finest which exists. The MONASTERY OF ST. EMMERAM was doubtless among the "most celebrated throughout Europe." In Hartmann Schedel's time, it was "an ample monastery of the order of St. Benedict." In the _Acta Sanctorum, mense Septembris, vol. vi. Sep_. 22, p. 469, the writer of the life of St. Emmeram supposes the monastery to have been built towards the end of the VIIth century. It was at first situated _without_ the walls,--but was afterwards (A.D. 920) included within the walls. Hansizius, a Jesuit, wrote a work in 1755, concerning the origin and constitution of the monastery--in which he says it was founded by Theodo in 688. The body of St. Emmeram was interred in the church of St. George, by Gaubaldus, in the VIIIth century, which church was reduced to ashes in 1642; but three years afterwards, they found the body of St. Emmeram, preserved in a double chest, or coffin, and afterwards exposed it, on Whitsunday, 1659, in a case of silver--to all the people.

[161] He died in April, 1820.

[162] [NOT so--as I understand. It is re-established in its previous form.]

[163] So I heard him called everywhere--in Austria and Bavaria--by men of every degree and rank in society; and by _professional_ men as frequently as by others. I recollect when at Landshut, standing at the door of the hotel, and conversing with two gallant-looking Bavarian officers, who had spent half their lives in the service: one of them declaring that "he should like to have been _opposed_ to WELLINGTON--to have _died_ even in such opposition, if he could not have vanquished him." I asked him, why? "Because (said he) there is glory in such a contest--for he is, doubtless, the FIRST CAPTAIN OF THE AGE."

[164] Dr. Bright, in _Travels in Lower Hungary_, p. 90-3, has an animated passage connected with this once flourishing, but now comparatively drooping, city. In the _Bibl. Spenceriana_, vol. iii. p. 261-3, will be found an extract or two, from Schedel's _Nuremberg Chronicle_, fol. c., &c. edit. 1493, which may serve to give a notion of the celebrity of Nuremberg about three centuries and a half ago.

[165] Or rather, walls which have certain round towers, with a projecting top, at given intervals. These towers have a very strong and picturesque appearance; and are doubtless of the middle part of the fifteenth century. In Hartman Schedel's time, there were as many of them as there were days in the year.

[166] [A large and most beautiful print of this interesting Shrine has been published since the above was written. It merits every commendation.]

[167] This is a striking and interesting print--and published in England for 1_l._ 1_s._ The numerous figures introduced in it are habited in the costume of the seventeenth century.

[168] The author of this work was _Franciscus de Retz_. As a first essay of printing, it is a noble performance. The reader may see the book pretty fully described in the _Bibl. Spenceriana_, vol. iii. p. 489.

[169] See p. 320 ante.

[170] See a copy of it described at Paris; vol. ii. p. 126.

[171] See p. 182 ante.

[172] [He is since DEAD.]

[173] Only three livraisons of this work have, I believe, been yet published:--under the title of "_Gravures en Bois des anciens maîtres allemands tirées des Planches originales recueillies par_ IULIAN ALBERT DERSCHAU. _Publiées par Rodolphe Zecharie Becker_." The last, however, is of the date of 1816--and as the publisher has now come down to wood-blocks of the date of 1556, it may be submitted whether the work might not advantageously cease? Some of the blocks in this third part seem to be a yard square.

[174] They are now in the library of Earl Spencer.

[175] I will describe this singular specimen of old art as briefly and perspicuously as I am able. It consists of an impression, in pale black ink--resembling very much that of aquatint, of a subject cut upon copper, or brass, which is about seventeen inches in height (the top being a little cut away) and about ten inches six-eighths in width. The upper part of the impression is in the shape of an obtusely pointed, or perhaps rather semicircular, gothic window--and is filled by involutions of forms or patterns, with great freedom of play and grace of composition: resembling the stained glass in the upper parts of the more elaborated gothic windows of the beginning of the fifteenth century. Round the outer border of the subject, there are seven white circular holes, as if the metal from which the impression was taken, had been _nailed up_ against a wall--and these blank spots were the result of the aperture caused by the space formerly occupied by the nails. Below, is the subject of the crucifixion. The cross is ten inches high: the figure of Christ, without the glory, six inches: St. John is to the left, and the mother of Christ to the right of the cross; and each of these figures is about four inches high. The drawing and execution of these three figures, are barbarously puerile. To the left of St. John is a singular appearance of the _upper_ part of _another_ plate, running at right angles with the principal, and composed also in the form of the upper portion of a gothic window. To the right of the virgin, and of the plate, is the "staggering" date abovementioned. It is thus: M.cccc.xxx. This date is fixed upon the stem of a tree, of which both the stem and the branches above appear to have been _scraped_, in the copper, almost _white_--for the sake of introducing the inscription, or _date_. The date, moreover, has a very suspicious look, in regard to the execution of the letters of which it is composed. As to the _paper_, upon which the impression is taken, it has, doubtless, much of the look of old paper; but not of that particular kind, either in regard to _tone_ or _quality_, which we see in the prints of Mechlin, Schoen, or Albert Durer. But what gives a more "staggering aspect" to the whole affair is, that the worthy Derschau had _another_ copy of this _same_ impression, which he sold to Mr. John Payne, and which is now in the highly curious collection of Mr. Douce. This was fortunate, to say the least. The copy purchased by myself, is now in the collection of Earl Spencer.

[176] I should add, that the _dotted_ manner of executing this old print, may be partly seen in that at page 280 of vol. iii. of the second edition of this work; but still more decidedly in the old prints pasted within the covers of the extraordinary copy of the _Mazarine Bible_, UPON VELLUM, once in the possession of Messrs. Nicol, booksellers to his late Majesty, and now in that of Henry Perkins, Esq.

[177] _Travels in Lower Hungary_, 1818, 4to. p.93.

[178] _Buchhandler_ is bookseller: and _Antiquar_ a dealer in old books. In Nuremberg, families exist for centuries in the same spot. I.A. ENDTER, one of the principal booksellers, resides in a house which his family have occupied since the year 1590. My intercourse was almost entirely with M. Lechner--one of the most obliging and respectable of his fraternity at Nuremberg.

[179] [Now of Henrietta Street Covent Garden. As is a sturdy oak, of three centuries growth, compared with a sapling of the last season's transplanting, so is the business of Mr. Bohn, NOW, compared with what it was when the _above_ notice was written.]

[180] It is either 1607, or 1609.

[181] The reputation of the University of Heidelberg, which may contain 500 students, greatly depends upon that of the professors. The students are generally under twenty years of age. Their dress and general appearance is very picturesque. The shirt collar is open, the hair flowing, and a black velvet hat or cap, of small and square dimensions, placed on one side, gives them a very knowing air. One young man in particular, scarcely nineteen from his appearance, displayed the most beautiful countenance and figure which I had ever beheld. He seemed to be _Raphael_ or _Vandyke_ revived.

[182] See note at page 49-51.

[183] Since March 1819, called the firm of ARTARIA and FONTAINE.

[184] Among the prints recently imported from the _latter_ place, was the whole length of the DUKE OF WELLINGTON, engraved by Bromley, from the painting of Sir Thomas Lawrence. I was surprised when M. Artaria told me that he had sold _fifty copies_ of this print--to his Bavarian and Austrian customers. In a large line engraving, of the Meeting of the Sovereigns and Prince Schwartzenberg, after the battle of Leipsic--from the painting of P. Krafft--and published by Artaria and Fontaine in January 1820--it is gratifying to read the name of our SCOTT--as that of the engraver of the piece--although it had been _previously_ placed in other hands.

[185] [It was brought to England about three years ago, and is YET, I believe, a purchasable article in some Repository. It should at least be _seen_ by the whole tribe of COGNOSCENTI in Pall Mall.]

[186] See page 439.

[187] The town is said to abound with Roman antiquities; among which is a triumphal arch of the time of Augustus, and an arcade called the _Romulus_. It was at Rheims where the holy _ampoule_, or oil for consecrating the Kings of France was kept--who were usually crowned here. A Jacobin ruffian, of the name of _Ruht_, destroyed this ampoule during the revolution. This act was succeeded by his own self-destruction.

[188] CHRISTMAS CAROL: printed by Wynkyn De Worde, 1521, 4to. see _Typog. Antiquities_, vol. ii. p. 251.

THE END.

PRINTED BY WILLIAM NICOL, AT THE

Shakspeare Press,

Cleveland Row, St. James's.