A Bibliographical, Antiquarian and Picturesque Tour in France and Germany, Volume Three
by Thomas Frognall Dibdin
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A CALENDAR. This is a pretty little duodecimo volume, containing also short prayers to Christ; and embellished by a representation of the several months in the calendar. Each illumination has a border, and its apposite characteristic subject attached to the month. Among the latter, those of October and November are vigorously touched and warmly finished. A picture of the Deluge follows December. The scription is in a neat roman character. This book is bound in lilac velvet, with silver clasps, and preserved in a yellow morocco case.

OFFICE OF THE VIRGIN. An exquisite little octavo or rather duodecimo; bound in silver, with coloured ornaments inlaid. The writing, in small roman, shews an Italian calligraphist. The vellum is white, and of the most beautiful quality. The text is surrounded by flowers, fruits, insects, animals, &c. The initial letters are sparkling, and ornamented in the arabesque manner. But the compositions, or scriptural subjects, are the most striking. Among the more beautiful specimens of high finishing, is the figure of Joseph—with the Virgin and Child—after the subject of the Circumcision. Upon the whole, the colours are probably too vivid. The subjects seem to be copies of larger paintings; and there is a good deal of French feeling and French taste in their composition. The rogue of a binder has shewn his love of cropping in this exquisite little volume. The date of 1574 is upon the binding.

MISSAL: beginning with the Oratio devota ad faciem dni nostri ihu xpi—A most exquisite volume in 8vo.: bound in black fish skin, with silver clasps of an exceedingly graceful form, washed with gold, and studded with rubies, emeralds, and other coloured stones. The head of Christ, with a globe in his hand, faces the beginning of the text. This figure has a short chin, like many similar heads which I have seen: but the colours are radiant, and the border, in which our Saviour is bearing his cross, below, is admirably executed. The beginning of St. John's Gospel follows. The principal subjects have borders, upon a gray or gold ground, on which flowers are most beautifully painted: and some of the subjects themselves, although evidently of Flemish composition, are most brilliantly executed. There is great nature, and vigour of touch, in the priests chanting, while others are performing the offices of religion. The Annunciation is full of tenderness and richness; and, in the Christ in the manger—from whose countenance, while lying upon the straw, the light emanates and shines with such beauty upon the face of the Virgin—we see the origin perhaps of that effect which has conferred such celebrity upon the NOTTE of CORREGIO. What gives such a thorough charm to this book, is, the grace, airiness, and truth of the flowers—scattered, as it were, upon the margins by the hand of a faery. They have perhaps suffered somewhat by time: but they are truth and tenderness itself. The writing is a large handsome square gothic.

OFFICE OF THE VIRGIN: bound in massive silver—highly ornamented, in the arabesque manner, and washed with gold. The back is most ingeniously contrived. But if the exterior be so attractive, the interior is not less so—for such a sweetly, and minutely ornamented, book, is hardly to be seen. The margins are very large and the text is very small: only about fifteen lines, by about one inch and three quarters wide. Upon seeing the margins, M. Scherer, the head-librarian, exclaimed, "I hope that satisfies you!" But they are by no means disproportionate—and the extraordinary colour and quality of the vellum render them enchanting. We come now to the ornaments. These are clusters of small flowers, strung in a pearl-like manner, and formed or grouped into the most pleasing and tasteful shapes. The figures are small, with a well indicated outline. How pretty are the little subjects at the foot of each month of the Calendar! And how totally different from the common-place stiffness, and notorious dullness, of the generality of Flemish pieces of this character! This book has no superior of its kind in Europe; and is worthy, on a small scale, of what we see in the superb folios of Matthias Corvinus.[49]

A BOOK OF PRAYERS—almost entirely spoilt by damp and rottenness within. I should think, from the writing and illuminations, it was executed between the years 1450 and 1480. The outside is here the principal attraction. It is a very ancient massive binding, in silver. On each side is a sacred subject; but on that, where the Crucifixion is represented, the figure to the right has considerable expression. At the bottom of each compartment are the arms of Bavaria and of the Dukes of Milan. This is a precious treasure in its way.

The present is probably the proper place to notice the principal gem—in the department of illuminated books of devotion—preserved in the Royal Library at Munich:—I mean, what is called, ALBERT DURER'S PRAYER BOOK. This consists merely of a set of marginal embellishments in a small folio volume, of which the text, written in a very large lower-case gothic letter, forms the central part. These embellishments are said to be by the hand of ALBERT DURER: although, if I mistake not, there is a similar production, or continuation, by LUCAS CRANACH. They are executed in colours of bistre, green, purple, or pink; with a very small portion of shadow—and apparently with a reed pen. Nothing can exceed the spirit of their conception, the vigour of their touch, and the truth both of their drawing and execution. They consist chiefly of capriccios, accompanied by the figure or figures of four Saints, &c. They afford one addition to the very many proofs, which I have already seen, of the surprising talents of Albert Durer: and, if I remember rightly; this very volume has been lithographised at Munich, and published in our own country.[50]

Descending lower in the chronological order of my researches, I now come to the notice of four very splendid and remarkable folio volumes, comprising only the text of the SEVEN PENITENTIAL PSALMS: and which exhibit extraordinary proofs of the united skill of the Scribe, the Musician, the Painter, and the Book Binder—all engaged in the execution of these volumes. Of each of these artists, there is a PORTRAIT; but among them, none please my fancy so much as that of GASPAR RITTER, the book-binder. All these portraits are executed in body colour, in a slight but bold manner, and appear to me to be much inferior to the general style of art in the smaller and historical compositions, illustrative of the text of the book. But Gaspar Ritter well merits a distinct notice; for these volumes display the most perfect style of binding, which I have yet seen, of the sixteenth century. They are in red morocco, variegated with colours, and secured by clasps. Every thing about them is firm, square, knowing and complete. The artist, or painter, to whom these volumes are indebted for their chief attraction, was John MIELICH; a name, of which I suspect very little is known in England. His portrait bears the date of 1570.

Looking fairly through these volumes—not for the sake of finding fault, or of detecting little lapses from accuracy of drawing, or harmony of composition—I do not hesitate one moment to pronounce the series of embellishments, which they contain, perfectly unrivalled—as the production of the same pencil. Their great merit consists in a prodigious freedom of touch and boldness of composition. The colouring seems to be purposely made subordinate. Figures the most minute, and actions the most difficult to express, are executed in a ready, off-hand manner, strongly indicative, of the masterly powers of the artist. The subjects are almost interminable in number, and endless in variety.

I shall now proceed at once to an account of the xylographical productions, or of BLOCK BOOKS in the public library of this place; and shall begin with a work, of which (according to my present recollection) no writer hath yet taken notice. It is a Life of Christ, in small quarto, measuring scarcely five inches by four. The character of the type is between that of Pfister and the Mazarine Bible, although rather more resembling the latter. Each side of the leaf has text, or wood cut embellishments. The first eight pages contain fifteen lines in a page: the succeeding two pages only thirteen lines; but the greater number of the pages have fourteen lines.

It is precisely the dotted ground, in the draperies, that impresses me with a notion of the antiquity of these cuts. Such a style of art is seen in all the earlier efforts of wood engraving, such as the St. Bernardinus belonging to M. Van-Praet, and the prints pasted within the covers of Mr. George Nicol's matchless copy of the Mazarine Bible, upon vellum, in its original binding.[51] M. Bernhard also shewed me, from his extraordinary collection of early prints, taken from the old MS. volumes in this library, several of this precise character; and to which we may, perhaps with safety, assign the date of 1460 at the latest. I have been particular in the account of this curious little volume, not so much because it is kept in a case, and considered to be unique, as because, to the best of my recollection, no account of it is to be found in any bibliographical publication.

EXHORTATION AGAINST THE TURKS, &c.: of the supposed date of 1455. This is the singular tract, of which Baron Aretin (the late head librarian of this establishment) published an entire fac-simile; and which, from the date of appearing at the bottom line of the first page, was conceived to be of that period. M. Bernhard, however,—in an anonymous pamphlet—proved, from some local and political circumstances introduced, or referred to, in the month of December—in the Calendar attached to this exhortation—that the genuine date should rather be 1472. This brochure is also considered to be unique. It is a small quarto, of six leaves only, of which the first leaf is blank. The type is completely in the form of that of Pfister, and the paper is unusually thick. At the bottom of the first leaf it is observed, in ms. "Liber eximiae raritatis et inter cimelia bibliothecae asservandus. F. Er."

ARS MEMORANDI, &c. Here are not fewer than five copies of this well known—and perhaps first—effort of block-book printing. These are of the earliest dates, yet with trifling variations. The wood cuts in all the copies are coloured; some more heavily than others; and in one of them you observe, in the figure of St. Matthew, that red or crimson glossy wash, or colour, so common in the earliest prints—and which is here carried over the whole figure. One of these five copies is unbound.

ARS MORIENDI. Here are two editions, of which one copy is indisputably the most ancient—like that in Lord Spencer's library,[52]—but of a considerably larger size, in quarto. There can be no doubt of the whole of this production being xylographical. Unluckily this fine copy has the first and last pages of text in ms. The other pages, with blank-reverses, are faintly impressed in brown ink: especially the first, which seems to be injured. A double-line border is round each page. This copy, which is bound in blue morocco, has also received injury from a stain. I consider the second copy, which is bound in red morocco, to be printed with moveable metal types. The ink is however of a palish brown. I never saw another copy of this latter impression.

BIBLIA PAUPERUM. In Latin. I doubt whether this be the first edition; but at any rate it is imperfect. In German: with the date of 1470. Here are two copies; of which I was anxious to obtain the duplicate (the largest and uncoloured,) for the library in St. James's Place; but the value fixed upon it was too high; indeed a little extravagant.

The APOSTLES CREED. In German. Only seven leaves, but pasted together—so that, the work is an opistographised production. This is a very rare, and indeed unique volume; and utterly unknown to bibliographers. Each cut is about the same size, and there are twelve in the whole. There is no other text but the barbarous letters introduced at the bottom of the cut.

MIRABILIA URBIS ROMAE. Another generally unknown xylographic performance; printed in the German language: being a small quarto. I have secured a duplicate of this singular volume for Lord Spencer's library, intending to describe it in the AEdes Althorpianae.[53]

The LIFE OF ST. MEINRAT; in German, in a series of wood-cut representations. This Saint was murdered by two men, whose Christian names were Peter and Richard, and who were always afterwards haunted by a couple of crows. There is a German introduction of two pages, preceding the cuts. These cuts are forty-eight in number. At the thirtieth cut, the Saint is murdered; the earlier series representing the leading events of his life. The thirty-first cut represents the murderers running away; an angel being above them; In the thirty-second cut, they continue to be pursued. The thirty-third cut thus describes them; the German and the version being as follow; "Hie furt man die mord vo danne un wil schleisse vn redern die rappen volget alle zit hin nach vn stechet sy." "Here they bring the murderers, in order to drag them upon the hurdle to execution, and to break them upon the wheel. The crows follow and peck them."

In the thirty-fourth cut Peter and Richard are tied and dragged at the heels, of a horse. In the thirty-fifth they are broken upon the wheel.

The Calendar of Regiomontanus—A decidedly xylographical production; the first date is 1475, the last 1525. A fine sound copy, but cropt. In a duplicate copy the name of the mathematician is given at the end.

CANTICA CANTICORUM. First edition. A beautiful copy; cropt, but clean. Sixteen cuts, uncoloured. The leaves have been evidently pasted together. Another copy, coloured; but of a later date. In fine preservation. A third copy; apparently the first edition; washed all over with a slight brown tint, and again coarsely coloured in parts: This copy singularly enough, is intermixed with portions of the first edition (as I take it) of the Apocalypse: very clumsily coloured. A fourth copy, also, as I conceive, of the first edition; rather heavily coloured. The back grounds are uncoloured. This is larger than the other copies.

DEFENSIO IMMACULATAE CONCEPTIONIS B.M.V. Without place; of the date of 1470. This is a Latin treatise; having four cuts in each page, with the exception of the first two pages, which exhibit only Saints Ambrose, Austin, Jerom and Gregory. At the bottom of the figure of St. Austin, second column, first page, it is thus written; "f.w. 1470." In the whole sixteen pages. The style of art is similar to that used in the Antichrist.[54] Of this tract, evidently xylographical, I never saw or heard of another copy.

The foregoing list may be said to comprise the chief rarities among the BLOCK BOOKS in the Public Library at Munich; and if I am not mistaken, they will afford no very unserviceable supplement to the celebrated work of Heineken upon the same subject. From this department in the art of printing, we descend naturally to that which is connected with metal types; and accordingly I proceed to lay before you another list of Book-Rarities—taken from the earlier printed volumes in this most extraordinary Library.

We will begin with the best and most ancient of all Books:—the BIBLE. They have a very singular copy of what is called the Mazarine edition: or rather the parent impression of the sacred text:—inasmuch as it contains (what, I believe, no other copy in Europe contains, and therefore M. Bernhard properly considers it as unique) four printed leaves of a table, as directions to the Rubricator. At the end of the Psalter is a ms. note thus: "Explicit Psalterium, 61." This copy is in other respects far from being desirable, for it is cropt, and in very ordinary calf binding. Mentelin's German Bible. Here are two copies of this first impression of the Bible in the German language: both of which have distinct claims to render them very desirable. In the one is an inscription, in the German language, of which M. Bernhard supplied me with the following literal version: "Hector Mulich and Otilia his wife; who bought this Bible in the year of Our Lord, 1466, on the twenty-seventh day of June, for twelve florins." Their arms are below. The whole is decidedly a coeval inscription. Here, therefore, is another testimony[55] of the printing of this Bible at least as early as the year 1466. At the end of the book of Jeremiah, in the same copy, is a ms. entry of 1467; "sub Papa Paulo Secundo et sub Imperatore Frederico tertio." The second copy of this edition, preserved in the same library, has a German ms. memorandum, executed in red ink, stating that this edition is "well translated, without the addition of a single word, faithful to the Latin: printed at Strasbourg with great care." This memorandum is doubtless of the time of the publication of the edition; and the Curators of the library very judiciously keep both copies.

A third, or triplicate copy, of Mentelin's edition—much finer than either of the preceding—and indeed abounding with rough edges—was purchased by me for the library in St. James's place; but it was not obtained for a sum beneath its full value.[56]

Here is a copy of Eggesteyn's Latin Bible, containing forty-five lines in a full page, with the important date of "24th May, 1466"—in a coeval ms. memorandum. Thus, you see, here is a date two years earlier[57] than that in a copy of the same Bible in the Public Library at Strasbourg; and I think, from hence, we are well warranted in supposing that both Mentelin and Eggesteyn had their presses in full play at Strasbourg in 1466—if not earlier. This copy of Eggesteyn's first Bible, which is in its original binding of wood, is as fine and large as it is precious.

I shall continue, miscellaneously, with the earlier printed books. T. Aquinas de Virtutibus et Vitiis; printed by Mentelin in his smallest character. At the end, there is the following inscription, in faded green ink; Johannes Bamler de Augusta hui^9 libri Illuiator Anno 1468. Thus Bamler should seem to be an illuminator as well as printer,[58] and Panzer is wrong in supposing that Bamler printed this book. Of course Panzer formed his judgment from a copy which wanted such accidental attestation. Ptolemy, 1462: with all the maps, coloured. Livy (1469): very fine—in its original binding—full sixteen inches high. Caesar, 1469: very fine, in the original binding. Lucan, 1469: equally fine, and coated in the same manner. Apuleius, 1469: imperfect and dirty. The foregoing, you know, are all EDITIONES PRINCIPES. But judge of my surprise on finding neither the first edition of Terence, nor of Valerius Maximus, nor of Virgil[59]—all by Mentelin. I enquired for the first Roman or Bologna Ovid: but in vain. It seemed that I was enquiring for "blue diamonds;"[60]—so precious and rare are these two latter works.

Here are very fine copies of the Philosophical works of Cicero, printed by Ulric Han—with the exception of the Tusculan Questions and the treatise upon Oratory, of the dates of 1468, 1469—which are unluckily wanting. M. Bernhard preserves four copies of the Euclid of 1482, because they have printed variations in the margins. One of these copies has the prefix, or preface of one page, printed in letters of gold. I saw another such a copy at Paris. Here is the Milan Horace of 1474—the text only. The Catholicon by Gutenberg, of 1460: UPON VELLUM: quite perfect as to the text, but much cropt, and many pieces sliced out of the margins—for purposes, which it were now idle to enquire after; although I have heard of a Durandus of 1459 in our own country, which, in ancient times, had been so served for the purpose of writing directions on parcels of game, &c. Catholicon of 1469 by G. Zeiner; also UPON VELLUM, and equally cropt—but otherwise sound and clean. This copy contains an ancient manuscript note which must be erroneous; as it professes the first owner to have got possession of the book before it was printed: in other words, an unit was omitted in the date, and we should read 1469 for 1468.[61]

Among the more precious ITALIAN BOOKS, is a remarkably fine copy of the old edition of the Decameron of Boccaccio, called the Deo Gracias—which Lord Spencer purchased at the sale of the Borromeo library in London, last year. It is quite perfect, and in a fine, large condition. It was taken to Paris on a certain memorable occasion, and returned hither on an occasion equally memorable. It contains 253 leaves of text and two of table; and has red ms. prefixes. It came originally from the library of Petrus Victorius, from which indeed there are many books in this collection, and was bought by the King of Bavaria at Rome. What was curious, M. Bernhard shewed me a minute valuation of this very rare volume, which he had estimated at 1100 florins—somewhere about L20. below the price given by Lord Spencer for his copy, of which four leaves are supplied by ms. Here is a magnificent copy of the Dante of 1481, with XX CUTS; the twentieth being precisely similar to that of which a fac-simile appears in the B.S. This copy was demanded by the library at Paris, and xix. cuts only were specified in the demand; the twentieth cut was therefore secreted, from another copy—which other copy has a duplicate of the first cut, pasted at the end of the preface. The impressions of the cuts, in the copy under description, are worthy of the condition of the text and of the amplitude of the margins. It is a noble book, in every point of view.

I was shewn a great curiosity by this able bibliographer; nothing less than a sheet, or broadside, containing specimens of types from Ratdolf's press. This sheet is in beautiful preservation, and is executed in double columns. The first ten specimens are in the gothic letter, with a gradually diminishing type. The last is thus:

Hunc adeas mira quicunq: volumina queris Arte uel ex animo pressa fuisse tuo Seruiet iste tibi: nobis (sic) iure sorores Incolumem seruet vsq: rogare licet.

This is succeeded by three gradually diminishing specimens of the printer's roman letter. Then, four lines of Greek, in the Jensonian or Venetian character: next, in large black letter, as below.[62]

But a still greater curiosity, in my estimation, was a small leaf; by way of advertisement, containing a list of publications issuing from the press of a printer whose name has not yet been discovered, and attached apparently to a copy of the Fortalitium Fidei; in which it was found. Luckily there was a duplicate of this little broadside—or advertisement—and I prevailed upon the curators, or rather upon M. Bernhard (whose exclusive property it was) to part with this Sibylline leaf, containing only nineteen lines, for a copy of the AEdes Althorpianae— as soon as that work should be published.[63] Of course, this is secured for the library in St. James's Place.

I am now hastening to the close of this catalogue of the Munich book-treasures. You remember my having mentioned a sort of oblong cabinet, where they keep the books PRINTED UPON VELLUM—together with block books, and a few of the more ancient and highly illuminated MSS. I visited this cabinet the first thing on entering—and the last thing on leaving—the Public Library. "Where are your Vellum Alduses, good Mr. Bernhard?" said I to my willing and instructive guide. "You shall see only two of them"—(rejoined he) but from these you must not judge of the remainder. So saying, he put into my hands the first editions of Horace and Virgil, each of 1501, and bound in one volume, in old red morocco. They were gems—almost of the very first order, and—almost of their original magnitude: measuring six inches and three eighths, by three inches and seven eighths. They are likewise sound and clean: but the Virgil is not equal to Lord Spencer's similar copy, in whiteness of colour, or beauty of illumination. Indeed the illuminations in the Munich copy are left in an unfinished state. In the ardour of the moment I talked of these two precious volumes being worth "120 louis d'or." M.B. smiled gently, as he heard me, and deliberately returned the volumes to their stations—intimating, by his manner, that not thrice that sum should dispossess the library of such treasures. I have lost my memoranda as to the number of these vellum Alduses; but the impression upon my mind is, that they have not more than six.

Of course, I asked for a VELLUM Tewrdanckhs of 1517, and my guide forthwith placed two MEMBRANACEOUS copies of this impression before me:—adding, that almost every copy contained variations, more or less, in the text. Indeed I found M.B. "doctissimus" upon this work; and I think he said that he had published upon it as well as Camus.[64] This is about the ninety-ninth time that I have most sensibly regretted my utter ignorance, of the language (German) in which it pleaseth M. Bernhard to put forth his instructive bibliographical lucubrations. Of these two copies, one has the cuts coloured, and is very little cropt: the other has the cuts uncoloured, and is decidedly cropt.

With the Tewrdanckhs, I take my leave both of the public library of Munich and (for the present) of its obliging and well-informed Second Librarian. But I must not leave this WORLD OF BOOKS without imparting to you the satisfaction which I felt on witnessing half a dozen grave-looking scribes employed, chiefly under the direction of M. Bernhard, in making out a classed catalogue of Fifteeners—preparatory to the sale of their Duplicates. This catalogue will be important in many respects; and I hope to see it in my own country within two years from the date of the present epistle.[65]

And now methinks it is high time to put the concluding paragraph to this said epistle—so charged with bibliographical intelligence respecting the capital of Bavaria. You must give it more than one perusal if you wish to digest it thoroughly. My next, within forty-eight hours hereof, will leave me on the eve of departure from hence. In the meanwhile, prepare for some pleasant BOOK TIDINGS in my ensuing despatch.

[40] Both the nave and towers appear in Hartmann Schedel's view of Munich, in the Nuremberg Chronicle of 1493: see fol. ccxxvi. The "pepper-box" terminations are, I conceive, of a later date.

[41] I take this to be the famous Albert who died in 1500; and who, in Schedel's time, kept lions for his disport—at Munich: "qui sua magnificentia plures nutrit leones" Chron. Norimb. 1493. Ibid.

[42] The steeple fell down in the year 1599, and has never been rebuilt.

[43] See p. 87 ante.

[44] See p. 66 ante.

[45] [Sir J. Reynolds criticised these pictures when they were in the Dusseldorf Gallery: but I cannot just now lay my hand upon his remarks.]

[46] [It has made, and is yet making, great strides towards the accomplishment of the above-mentioned objects—since the above passage was written.]

[47] [With the exception of the first, (although I do not make this exception with confidence) all the above-named gentlemen have CEASED TO EXIST. Mr. Bernhard I believe died before the publication of the preceding edition of this work: and I add, with perfect sincerity, that his decease, and that of M. Adam Bartsch (vide post) were, to me, among the bitterest regrets which I ever experienced in my intercourse with foreign literati.

[48] The able editor of the Romance of Sir TRISTREAM, ascribed to Thomas of Ercildoune, appears to have been entirely ignorant of the existence of this highly curious and coeval German version. I regret that I am unable to give the reader a complete analysis of the whole.

From this account, I select the following very small portion—of fidelity of version—with a fac-simile of one of the Embellishments.

So all his thoughts were wavering:

Wilen abe vn wilent an— One while above, and one while down, Er tet wol an im selben schin He truly on himself made shew, Daz der minnende mot That an amorous mind behaves Reht als der vrie fogel tot Even as the bird in the open air, Der durch die friheit dier hat Who, by the liberty he enjoys, Vf daz gelimde twi gestat Slightly sits on the lime-twig down; Als er des limes danne entsebet As soon as he the lime descrys, Vnd er sieh vf ze fluhte hebet And rises up to fly in haste, So chlebet er mit den fossen an. His feet are clinging to the twig.

This simile of the bird seems expressed in the illumination, of which the outline has been faithfully copied by Mr. Lewis:

[49] See page 33 ante.

[50] It appeared in the year 1808, and was sold for 2l. 12s. 6d. But a blank space was left in the middle—which, in the original, is occupied by a heavy gothic text. The publication of the continuation by Lucas Cranach appeared in 1818.

[51] Now in the Collection of Henry Perkins, Esq.

[52] See Bibl. Spenceriana, vol. i. p. xv-xxiii. where fac-similes of some of the cuts will be found.

[53] Where it is fully described, in vol. ii. p. 188, &c. with fac-similes of the type and ornaments. An entire page of it is given at p. 189.

[54] See Bibl. Spenceriana, vol. i. p. xxxi.

[55] A copy in the public library at Stuttgart has a ms. memorandum in which the same dominical date is entered. See note, at page 21 ante.

[56] It must be mentioned, however, that a fine copy of the German edition of Breydenbach's Travels, of 1486, was given into the bargain.

[57] In the Bibl. Spencer, vol. i. p. 38-9—where a fac-simile of the type of this edition is given—the impression is supposed to have been executed in "the year 1468 at latest." The inscription of 1468 in the Strasbourg copy (see vol. ii. p. 404.) should seem at least to justify the caution of this conclusion. But, from the above, we are as justified in assigning to it a date of at least two years earlier.

[58] Lord Spencer possesses a copy of St. Austin de Civitate Dei, with the Commentary of Trivetus, printed by Mentelin, which was also illuminated by Bamler in the same year as above—1468. The memorandum to this effect, by Bamler, is given in the AEdes Althorpianae; vol. ii. p. 20.

[59] I will not say positively that the VIRGIL is not there; but I am pretty sure of the absence of the two preceding works. My authority was, of course, the obliging and well informed M. Bernhard.

[60] See page 115 ante.

[61] The inscription is this: "Anno dni Millesimo cccc^o lxviij^o. Conparatus est iste Katholicon tpe Iohis Hachinger h^{9} ccclie p tunc imeriti pptti. p. xlviij Aureis R flor^{9} taxatus p. H xxi faciunt in moneta Vsuali xlvj t d." So that it seems a copy of this work, upon vellum, was worth at the time of its publication, forty-six golden florins.

[62] Indicis characterum diversarum manerieru impressioni parataru: Finis. Erhardi Ratdolt Augustensis viri solertissimi: preclaro ingenio & mirifica arte: qua olim Venetijs excelluit celebratissimus. In imperiali nunc vrbe Auguste vindelicorum laudatissime impressioni dedit. Annoq; salutis M.CCCC.LXXXXVI. Cale Aprilis Sidere felici compleuit.

[63] An admirably executed fac-simile of the above curious document appears in the work here referred to: vol. ii. p. 131—where the subject of its probable printer is gone into at considerable length.

[64] The reader, if he have leisure and inclination, may consult a long note in the Bibliographical Decameron, vol. i. p. 201, respecting the best authorities to be consulted upon the above very splendid and distinguished performance. Camus is included in the list of authorities referred to.

[65] Seven years have elapsed since the above was written, but no CLASSED CATALOGUE of any portion of the Public Library of Munich has appeared in this country. Speaking of duplicates, not printed in the fifteenth century, it may be worth observing that they have at Munich not fewer than six copies (double the number of those at Strasbourg;) of the ACTA SANCTORUM; good handsome copies in vellum binding.

[Since the first edition of this Tour was published, several copies of this stupendous, but unfortunately imperfect work, have been imported into England: among which, however, none, to my recollection, have found their way from MUNICH. Indeed, the heavy expense of carriage is almost an interdiction: unless the copies were obtained at very moderate prices.]



The bright bibliographical star, which shone upon me at Stuttgart, has continued to shine with the same benign lustre at this place. "[Greek: Heureka Heureka]"!—the scarcest and brightest of all the ALDINE GEMS has been found and secured by me: that gem, for which M. Renouard still continues to sigh and to rave, alternately, in despair of a perfect copy; and which has, only very recently, been placed among the most brilliant ornaments of the Royal Library at Paris.[66] What may these strange exclamations and inuendos imply?—methinks I hear you say. You shall know in a trice—which just brings me to the very point with which my previous epistle concluded. Those "pleasant book-tidings," referred to in my last, and postponed for the present opportunity, are "as hereafter followeth."

In my frequent conversations with the Guardians of the Public Library, I learnt that one STOEGER, a bookseller chiefly devoted to the purchase and sale of Aldine volumes, resided in this metropolis; that his abode was rather private than public; and that his "magasin" was lodged on the second or third floor, in a row of goodly houses, to the right, on entering the city. M. Bernhard added, that Mr. Stoeger had even a copy of the first Aldine edition of the Greek hours (printed in 1497)—which is the very gem above alluded to; "but (observed my intelligent informant, as he accompanied me to the door of the bookseller in question) "he will not part with it: for both the Prince Royal and our Public Library have been incessant in their importunities to possess it. He sets an extravagant price upon it." Having been instructed from early youth, "never to take that for granted which remained to be proved," I thanked the worthy M. Bernhard for his intelligence; and, wishing him a good morning, entered the chamber of Mr. Stoeger.

I had previously heard (and think that I have before made mention) of the eagerness with which the Prince Royal of Bavaria purchases Alduses; and own, that, had I chosen to reflect one little minute, I might have been sufficiently disheartened at any reasonable prospect of success, against two such formidable opponents as the Prince and the Public Library. However, in cases of emergency, 'tis better to think courageously and to act decisively. I entered therefore the chamber of this Aldine bookseller, resolved upon bearing away the prize—"coute qu'il coute"—provided that prize were not absolutely destined for another. M. Stoeger saluted me formally but graciously. He is a short, spare man, with a sharp pair of dark eyes, and speaks French with tolerable fluency. We immediately commenced a warm bibliographical discussion; when Mr. Stoeger, all of a sudden, seemed to raise himself to the height of six feet—gave three strides across the room—and exclaimed, "Well, Sir; the cabinet of my Lord Spencer wants something which I possess in yonder drawer." I told him that I knew what it was he alluded to; and, with the same decision with which I seemed to bespeak the two Virgils at Stuttgart, I observed, that "that want would soon cease; for that ere I quitted the room, the book in question would doubtless become the property of the nobleman whom he had just mentioned." Mr. Stoeger, for three seconds, was lost in astonishment: but instinctively, as it were; he approached the drawer: opened it: and shewed me an unbound, sombre-looking, but sound and perfect copy of the first edition of the GREEK HOURS, printed by Aldus.

As I had among my papers a collation of the perfect copy at Paris, I soon discovered that Mr. Stoeger's copy was also complete; and ... in less than fifteen minutes I gained a complete victory over the Prince Royal of Bavaria and the corps bibliographique of Messrs. Von Moll, Schlichtegroll, Scherer, Bernhard, &c.—the directors and guardians of the Public Library at Munich. In other words, this tiny book, measuring not quite four inches, by not quite three, was secured—for the cabinet in question—at the price of * * florins!! The vender, as I shrewdly suspect, had bought it of a brother bookseller at Augsbourg,[67]of the name of KRANSFELDER (a worthy man; whom I visited—but with whom I found nothing but untransportable Latin and German folios) for ... peradventure only the hundredth part of the sum which he was now to receive. What shall we say? The vender is designated by Mr. Schlichtegroll, in the preface of the last sale catalogue of the duplicates of the Public Library (1815, 8vo.) as "bibliopola honestissimus"—and let us hope that he merits the epithet. Besides, books of this excessive rarity are objects of mere caprice and fancy. To return to this "bibliopola honestissimus," I looked out a few more tempting articles, of the Aldine character,[68] and receiving one or two as a douceur; in the shape a present, settled my account with Mr. Stoeger ... and returned to my lodging more and more confirmed in the truth of the position of "not taking that for granted which remained to be proved." The whole of this transaction was, if I may so speak, in the naughty vanity of my heart, a sort of octodecimo illustration of the "VENI, VIDI, VICI" of a certain illustrious character of antiquity.

Of a very different character from this Aldine bibliopolist is a bookseller of the name of VON FISCHHEIM: the simplest, the merriest, the most artless of his fraternity. It was my good friend Mr. Hess (of whom I shall presently speak somewhat more at large) who gave me information of his residence. "You will find there (added he) all sorts of old books, old drawings, pictures, and curiosities." What a provocative for an immediate and incessant attack! I took my valet with me—for I was told that Mr. Von Fischheim could not speak a word of French—and within twenty minutes of receiving the information, found myself in the dark and dreary premises of this same bibliopolist. He lives on the first floor; but the way thither is almost perilous. Mr. Fischheim's cabinet of curiosities was crammed even to suffocation; and it seemed as if a century had elapsed since a vent-hole had been opened for the circulation of fresh air. I requested the favour of a pinch of snuff from Mr. Fischheim's box, to counteract all unpleasant sensations arising from effluvia of a variety of description—but I recommend English visitors in general to smoke a segar while they rummage among the curiosities of Mr. Fischheim's cabinet! Old Tom Hearne might here, in a few minutes, have fancied himself ... any thing he pleased!

The owner of these miscellaneous treasures wore one unvarying smile upon his countenance during the whole time of my remaining with him. He saw me reject this, and select that; cry "pish" upon one article, and "bravo" upon another—with the same settled complacency of countenance. His responses were short and pithy, and I must add, pleasant: for, having entirely given up all hopes of securing any thing in the shape of a good picture, a good bust, or a genuine illumination from a rich old MS., I confined myself strictly to printed books—and obtained some very rare, precious, and beautifully-conditioned volumes upon most reasonable and acceptable terms.[69] Having completed my purchase, the books were sent to the hotel by a shopman, in the sorriest possible garb, but who wore, nevertheless, a mark of military distinction in his button-hole. From henceforth I can neither think, nor speak, but with kindness of Paul Ludwig Von Fischheim, the simplest, the merriest, and most artless of his fraternity.

The day following this adventure, I received a note informing me that a person, practising physic, but also a collector and seller of old books, would be glad to see me in an adjoining street. He had, in particular, some "RARE OLD BIBLES." Another equally stimulant provocative! I went, saw, and... returned—with scarcely a single trophy. Old Bibles there were—but all of too recent a date: and all in the Latin language. Yet I know not how it was, but I suffered myself to be prevailed upon to give some twenty florins for a doubtfully-printed Avicenna, and a Biblia Historica Moralisata. Had I yielded to further importunities, or listened to further information, I might have filled the large room in which I am now sitting—and which is by much the handsomest in the hotel[70]—with oak-bound folios, vellum-clad quartos, and innumerable broadsides. But I resisted every entreaty: I had done sufficient—at least for the first visit to the capital of Bavaria.

And doubtless I have good reason to be satisfied with these Bavarian book-treasures. There they all lie; within as many strides of me as Mr. Stoeger took across the room; while, more immediately within reach, and eyed with a more frequent and anxious look, repose the Greek Hours, the first Horace, the Mentelin German Bible, and the Polish Protestant Bible; all—ALL destined for the cabinet of which Mr. Stoeger made such enthusiastic mention.

A truce now to books, and a word or two about society. I arrived here at a season when Munich is considered to be perfectly empty. None of the noblesse; no public gaieties; no Charge d'Affaires—all were flown, upon the wings of curiosity or of pleasure towards the confines of Italy. But as my business was rather with Books and bookmen, I sought chiefly the society of the latter, nor was I disappointed. I shall introduce them one by one. First therefore for the BARON VON MOLL; one of the most vivacious and colloquial of gentlemen; and who perhaps has had more to do with books than any one of his degree in Bavaria. I know not even if he have not had two or more monastic libraries to dispose of—which descended to him as ancestral property. I am sure he talked to me of more than one chateau, or country villa, completely filled with books; of which he meditated the disposal by public or private sale. And this, too—after he had treated with the British Museum through the negotiation of our friend the Rev. Mr. Baber, for two or three thousand pounds worth of books, comprehending, chiefly, a very valuable theological collection. The Baron talked of twenty thousand volumes being here and there, with as much sang-froid and certainty as Bonaparte used to talk of disposing of the same number of soldiers in certain directions.

The other Sunday afternoon I accompanied him to one of his villas, in the direct road from Munich—near which indeed I had passed in my route hither. Or, rather, speaking more correctly the Baron accompanied me:—as he bargained for my putting a pair of post-horses to my carriage. He wished me to see his books, and his rural domain. The carriage and burden were equally light, and the road was level and hard. We therefore reached the place of our destination in a short hour. It was a very pleasant mansion, with a good garden, and several fertile fields of pasture and arable land. The Baron made it his summer residence. His books filled the largest room in the house. He invited me to look around, to select any volumes that I might fancy, provided they were not grammatical or lexicographical—for, in that department, he never wished his strength to be diminished, or his numbers to be lessened. I did as he desired me: culled a pretty book-posey;—not quite so blooming as that selected at Lincoln,[71] some dozen years ago,—and, as the sun was setting, voted the remainder of the evening, till supper-time, to a walk with the Baron upon the neighbouring heights.

The evening was fair and mild, and the Baron was communicative and instructive. His utterance is rapid and vehement; but with a tone of voice and mode of action by no means uninteresting. We talked about the possession of Munich by the French forces, under the command of Moreau, and he narrated some particulars equally new and striking. Of Moreau, he spoke very handsomely; declaring him to have been a modest, grave, and sensible man—putting his great military talents entirely out of the question. The Baron himself, like every respectable inhabitant of Munich, was put under military surveillance. Two grenadiers and a petty officer were quartered upon him. He told me a curious anecdote about Bonaparte and Marshal Lasnes—if I remember rightly, upon the authority of Moreau. It was during the crisis of some great battle in Austria, when the fate of the day was very doubtful, that Bonaparte ordered Lasnes to make a decisive movement with his cavalry; Lasnes seemed to hesitate. Bonaparte reiterated the order, and Lasnes appeared to hesitate again—as if doubting the propriety of the movement. Bonaparte eyed him with a look of ineffable contempt; and added—almost fixing his teeth together, in a hissing but biting tone of sarcasm—"Est-ce que je t'ai fait trop riche?" Lasnes dashed his spurs into the sides of his charger, turned away, and prepared to put the command of his master into execution.

So much for the Baron Von Moll. The name of SCHLICHTEGROLL was frequently mentioned in my last letter. It is fitting, therefore, that you should know something of the gentleman to whom this name appertains. Mr. F. Schlichtegroll is the Director in Chief of the Public Library at Munich. I was introduced to him in a room contiguous to that where they keep their models of public buildings—such as bridges, barriers, fortifications, &c. which are extremely beautiful and interesting. The director received me in the heartiest manner imaginable; and within five minutes of our first salutation, I found his arm within my own, as we walked up and down the room—discoursing about first editions, block-books, and works printed upon vellum. He was delighted to hear of my intention to make a vigorous attack, with pen, ink, and paper, upon the oblong cabinet of Fifteeners and precious MSS. of which my last letter made especial mention; and promised to afford me every facility which his official situation might command. Unluckily for a more frequent intercourse between us, which was equally wished by both parties, the worthy Director was taken ill towards the latter part of my stay;[72]—not however before I had visited him twice, and been his guest attended by a numerous party.

Mr. SCHERER is the third figure upon this bibliographical piece of canvass, of which I deem it essential to give you a particular description. He is very hearty, very alert in the execution of his office, and is "all over English" in his general appearance and manner of conduct. He is learned in oriental literature; is a great reader of English Reviews; and writes our language with fluency and tolerable correctness. He readily volunteered his kind offices in translating the German ms. of Sir Tristrem, of which my last letter made mention—and I have been indebted to him upon every occasion, wherein I have solicited his aid, for much friendly and much effectual attention. He has, luckily for his own character, vouchsafed to dine with me; although it was with difficulty I could prevail upon him so to do, and for him to allow me to dine at the protracted hour of four. After dinner, it was with pleasure,—when surrounded by all the book-treasures, specified in the early part of this letter, and which were then lying in detached piles upon the floor[73]—I heard Mr. Scherer expatiate upon the delight he felt in taking a trip, every summer or autumn, among the snow-capt mountains of the Tyrol; or of burying his cares, as well as changing his studies and residence, by an excursion along the lakes and mountains of Switzerland. "When that season arrives (added he—stretching forth both arms in a correspondently ardent manner) I fly away to these grand scenes of silence and solitude, and forget the works of man in the contemplation of those of nature!" As he spake thus, my heart went a good way with him: and I could not but express my regret that London was not situated like the capital of Bavaria.

Of Mr. BERNHARD, the sub-librarian, I have already spoken frequently; and in a manner, I trust, to shew that I can never be insensible either of his acquirements or his kindness. He has one of the meekest spirits—accompanied by the firmest decision—which ever marked the human character; and his unconsciousness both of the one and of the other renders his society the more delightful.

A temporary farewell to Bibliography, and to Bibliographers. You may remember that I introduced the name of Hess, in a former part of this letter; with an intention of bringing the character, to whom it belonged, at a future period before your notice. You will be gratified by the mention of some particulars connected with him. Mr. Hess has passed his grand climacteric; and is a Professor of Design, but more especially a very distinguished Engraver. His figure, his manner of conversation, his connections, and his character, are all such—as to render it pleasing to find them combined with a man of real talent and worth. I had brought with me, from England, a drawing or copy of one of the original portraits at Althorp—supposed to be painted by Anthony More—with a view of getting it engraved abroad. It is very small, scarcely four inches square. I had shewn it at Paris to Lignon, who modestly said he would execute it in his very best manner, for 3000 francs! M. Hess saw it—and was in extacies. "Would I allow him to engrave it?" "Name your price." "I should think about thirty-five guineas." "I should think (replied I) that that sum would entitle me to your best efforts." "Certainly; and you shall have them"—rejoined he. I then told him of the extravagance of Lignon. He felt indignant at it. "Not (added he) that I shall execute it in his highly finished manner." I immediately consigned the precious portrait into his hands—with a written agreement to receive the engraving of it next year, at the stipulated sum.[74]

Thus you see I have set Mr. Hess to work in my absence—when I quit Munich—which will be to-morrow, or the following day at farthest. This worthy artist won upon me at every interview. His dress and address were truly gentlemanly; and as he spoke the English language as well as he did the French, we were of course glad to renew our visits pretty frequently. His anxiety to promote my views, and to afford my companion every assistance in his power, connected with the Fine Arts, will be long and gratefully remembered by us.[75] But Mr. NOCKHER shall not be passed over "sub silentio." He is a banker; and I found another FRANCS in the promptitude and liberality of his offers of pecuniary supply. He, together with Mr. Hess, has tasted the best red wine, at my humble table, that the Schwartzen Adler can afford; and I have quaffed his souchong, in society in which I should like to have mingled again and again. The subjects of pictures and prints occupied every moment of our time, and almost every word of our discussion; and Mr. Nockher shewed me his fine impression of the Dresden Raphael, in a manner that proved how perfectly well he was qualified to appreciate the merits of the graphic art. That print, you know, is considered to be the masterpiece of modern art; and it is also said that the engraver—having entirely finished every portion of it—did NOT LIVE TO SEE A FINISHED PROOF. Mr. Nockher bought it for some three or four napoleons, and has refused twenty for it. I own that, to my eye, this print has more power, expression, and I may say colouring, than almost any which I remember to have seen. The original is in the second, or darker style of colouring, of the master; and this engraving of it is as perfect a copy of the manner of the original, as that by Raphael Morghen of the last Supper of Leonardo da Vinci—so celebrated all over Europe.

Mr. Nockher is both a good-natured man, and a man of business; and the facility and general correctness of his mode of speaking the English language, renders a communication with him very agreeable. He has undertaken to forward all my book-purchases to England—with the exception of a certain little Greek duodecimo, which has taken a marvellous fancy to be the travelling companion of its present master. Mr. Nockher also promises to forward all future book-purchases which I may make—and which may be directed for him at Munich—on to England. Thus, therefore—when I quit this place—I may indulge a pleasing anticipation of the future, without any anxieties respecting the past.[76]

And now fare you well. Within twenty-four hours I start from hence, upon rather a digressive excursion; and into which the Baron Von Moll and M. Schlichtegroll have rather coaxed, than reasoned, me. I am to go from hence to Freysing and Landshut—and then diverge down, to the right, upon Salzburg—situated 'midst snow-clad mountains, and containing a LIBRARY within the oldest monastery in Austria. I am to be prepared to be equally struck with astonishment at the crypt of Freysing, and at the tower of Landshut—and after having "revelled and rioted" in the gloomy cloisters and sombre apartments of St. Peter's monastery, at Salzburg, I am instructed to take the Lake of Gmunden in my way to the Monastery of Chremsminster—in the direct route to Lintz and Vienna. A world of variety and of wonder seems therefore to be before me; and as my health has been recently improved, from the comparatively cool state of the weather, I feel neither daunted nor depressed at the thought of any difficulties, should there be any, which may await me in the accomplishment of this journey. My next, God willing, will assuredly be from Salzburg—when I shall have rested awhile after a whirl of some two hundred miles.

[66] [See vol. ii. p. 147. Renouard, L'Imprim. des Alde, vol. i. 36-7. There are however, NOW, I believe, in this country, FIVE copies of this very rare book; of which four are perfect.]

[67] The copy in question had, in 1595, been the property of F. Gregorius, prior of the monastery of Sts. Ulric and Afra at Augsbourg: as that possessor's autograph denotes.

[68] The principal of these "tempting articles" were a fine first Statius of 1502, Asconius Pedianus, 1522. Cicero de Officiis, 1517, and Leonicerus de Morbo Gallico—with the leaf of errata: wanting in the copy in St. James's Place. But perhaps rarer than either, the Laurentius Maoli and Averrois, each of 1497—intended for presents. But Mr. Stoeger had forgotten these intended presents—and charged them at a good round sum. I considered his word as his bond—and told him that honest Englishmen were always in the habit of so considering the words of honest Germans. I threatened him with the return of the whole cargo, including even the beloved Greek Hours. Mr. Stoeger seemed amazed: hesitated: relented: and adhered to his original position. Had he done otherwise, I should doubtless have erased the epithet "honestissimus," in all the copies of the sale catalogue above alluded to, which might come within my notice, and placed a marginal emendation of "avidissimus."

[69] It may be a novel, and perhaps gratifying, sight to the reader to throw his eye over a list (of a few out of the fifty articles) like the following: Flor. Kreutz. Liber Moralizat. Biblic. Ulm. 1474. Folio. Fine copy 11 Biblia Vulg. Hist. Ital. Venet. Giunta 1492. Fol. 8 Horatius. Venet. 1494. 4to. Fig. lig. incis. 11 Cronica del rey don Iuan. Sevilla. 1563. 4to. 11 Breviarium. Teutonice. 4to. In MEMBRANIS. A most beautiful and spotless book. It contains only the Pars Hyemalis of the cathedral service. 11 Dictionarium Pauperum. Colon. 1504. 8vo. 1 Pars quart. Ind. Orient. Francof. 1601. 5 30 Fabulae AEsopicae. Cura Brandt. 1501. Folio. Perhaps a matchless copy; in original binding of wood. Full of cuts 55 Thirteen different opuscula, at one florin each; many very curious and uncommon 13 The Lord's Prayer and Creed—in the German language—printed by "Fricz Crewsner," in 1472: folio: broadside. Perhaps UNIQUE 22

The florin, at the time of my residence at Munich, was about 1s. 9d.

[70] [However severely I may have expressed myself in a preceding page (105) of the general condition of this huge Inn, yet I cannot but gaze upon the subjoined view of it with no ordinary sensation of delight when I remember that the three-windowed room, on the first floor, to the right—close to the corner—was the room destined to be graced by the BOOK TREASURES above mentioned. This view may also serve as a general specimen of the frontage of the larger Inns in Bavaria.]

[71] [All the book-world has heard mention of THE LINCOLNE NOSEGAY, —a small handful of flowers, of choice hues, and vigorous stems, culled within the precincts of one of the noblest cathedrals in Europe. Neither Covent Garden at home, nor the Marche aux Fleurs at Paris, could boast of such a posey. I learn, however, with something approaching to horror, that the Nosegay in question has been counterfeited. A spurious edition (got up by some unprincipled speculator, and, I must add, bungling hand—for the typographical discrepancy is obvious) is abroad. Roxburghers, look well to your book-armouries! The foe may have crept into them, and exchanged your steel for painted wood.]

[72] There is something so hearty and characteristic in the Director's last letter to me, that I hope to be pardoned if I here subjoin a brief extract from it. "M. Scherer vient me quitter, et m'annoncer que votre depart est fixe pour demain. Jamais maladie—auxquelles, heureusement, je suis tres rarement expose—m'est survenu aussi mal-a-propos qu'a cette fois-ci. J'avois compte de jouir encore au moins quelques jours, apres mon retablissement, de votre entretien, et jetter les fondemens d'une amitie collegiale pour la future. La nouvelle, que M. Scherer m'apporte, me desole. J'avois forme le plan de vous accompagner pour voir quelqu'uns de nos Institutions remarquables, principalement La Lithographie, "Vana Somnia!" Votre resolution de quitter Munich plutot que je n'avois pense, detruit mes esperances. N'est-ce-pas possible que vous passiez par Munich a votre retour de Vienne? Utinam! Combien de choses restent, sur lesquelles j'esperais de causer et de traiter avec vous! "I bono alite: pede fausto."


[The author of this Letter is NO MORE!]

[73] See the note, p. 157 ante.

[74] This Engraving appears in the AEdes Althorpianae, vol. i. p. 246. On my return to England, it was necessary to keep up a correspondence with the amiable and intelligent character in question. I make no apology, either to the reader, or to the author of the Epistle, for subjoining a copy of one of these letters—premising, that it relates to fac-similes of several old copper cuts in the Public Library at Munich, as well as to his own engraving of the above-mentioned portrait. There is something throughout the whole of this letter so hearty, and so thoroughly original, that I am persuaded it will be perused with extreme gratification:

Munich, 17 May, 1819.

Dear and Reverend Sir;

I am a good old fellow, and a passable engraver; but a very bad Correspondent. You are a ... and minister of a religion which forgive all faults of mankind; and so I hope that you will still pardon me the retardation of mine answer. I am now 65 years old, and have never had any sickness in mine life, but I have such an averseness against writing, that only the sight of an ink-horn, pen and paper, make me feeling all sort of fevers of the whole medicinal faculty;—and so I pray that you would forgive me the brevity of mine letters. Following your order, I send you jointly the first proof prints of those plates still (already) finished. The plate of that beautiful head of an English artist, is not yet so far advanced; but in about six weeks you will have it—and during this time, I expect your answer and direction to whom I shall deliver the whole. I wish and hope heartily that the fac-similes and portraits would be correspondent with your expectation.

I hold it for necessary and interesting, to give you a true copy of that old print—"Christ in the lap of God the Father." You'll see that this print is cutten round, and carefully pasted upon another paper on a wooden band of a book: which proves not only a high respect for a precious antiquity, but likewise that this print is much older than the date of 1462—which is written in red ink, over the cutten outlines, of that antique print. You may be entirely assured of the fidelity of both fac-similes. Now I pray you heartily to remember my name to our dear Mr. Lewis, with my friendliest compliments, and told him that the work on Lithography is now finished, and that he shall have it by the first occasion. In expectation of your honorable answer, I assure you of the highest consideration and respect of

Your most obedient humble Servant,


[75] [This GRAPHIC WORTHY now ceases to exist. He died in his seventy-first year—leaving behind, the remembrance of virtues to be reverenced and of talents to be imitated.]

[76] [Another OBITUARY presses closely upon the preceding—but an Obituary which rends one's heart to dwell upon:—for a kinder, a more diligent, and more faithful Correspondent than was Mr. Nockher, it has never been my good fortune to be engaged with. Almost while writing the above passage, this unfortunate gentleman ... DESTROYED himself:—from embarrassment of circumstances!]



Salzburg; Golden Ship, Aug. 23, 1818.


If ever I wished for those who are dear to me in England, to be my companions during any part of this "antiquarian and picturesque tour," (for there are comparatively few, I fear, who would like to have been sharers of the "bibliographical" department of it) it has been on the route from Munich to this place: first, darting up to the north; and secondly, descending gradually to the south; and feasting my eyes, during the descent, upon mountains of all forms and heights, winding through a country at once cultivated and fertile, and varied and picturesque. Yes, my friend, I have had a glimpse, and even more than a glimpse, of what may be called ALPINE SCENERY: and have really forgotten Fust, Schoeffher, and Mentelin, while contemplating the snow-capt heights of the Gredig, Walseberg, and Untersberg:—to say nothing of the Gross Klokner, which raises its huge head and shoulders to the enormous height of 12,000 feet above the level of the sea.

These be glorious objects!—but I have only gazed; and, gazed at a distance of some twenty or thirty miles. Surrounded as I am, at this moment,—in one of the most marvellous and romantic spots in Europe—in the vicinity of lakes, mountain-torrents, trout-streams, and salt-mines,—how can you expect to hear any thing about MSS. and PRINTED BOOKS? They shall not, however, be wholly forgotten; for as I always endeavour to make my narrative methodical, I must of necessity make mention of the celebrated library of INGOLDSTADT, (of which Seemiller has discoursed so learnedly in a goodly quarto volume,) now, with the University of the same place, transferred to LANDSHUT—where I slept on the first night of my departure from Munich.

A secret, but strong magnetic power, is pulling me yet more southerly, towards Inspruck and Italy. No saint in the golden legend was ever more tortured by temptation, than I have been for the last twenty-four hours ... with the desire of visiting those celebrated places. Thrice has some invisible being—some silver-tongued sylph—not mentioned, I apprehend, in the nomenclature of the Rosicrusian philosophy, whispered the word ... "ROME ..." in mine ear—and thrice have I replied in the response... "VIENNA!" I am therefore firmly fixed: immoveably resolved ... and every southerly attraction shall be deserted for the capital of Austria: having determined to mingle among the Benedictin and Augustin monks of Chremsminster, St. Florian, and Moelk—and, in the bookish treasures of their magnificent establishments, to seek and obtain something which may repay the toil and expense of my journey.

But why do I talk of monastic delights only in contemplation? I have realized them. I have paced the cloisters of St. Peter's, the mother-convent of Austria: have read inscriptions, and examined ornaments, upon tombstones, of which the pavement of these cloisters is chiefly composed: have talked bad Latin with the principal, and indifferently good French with the librarian—have been left alone in the library—made memoranda, or rather selected books for which a valuable consideration has been proposed—and, in short, fancied myself to be thoroughly initiated in the varieties of the Bavarian and Austrian characters. Indeed, I have almost the conceit to affirm that this letter will be worth both postage and preservation.

Let me "begin at the beginning." On leaving Munich, I had resolved upon dining at Freysingen, or Freysing; as well to explore the books of Mr. Mozler, living there—and one of the most "prying" of the bibliopolistic fraternity throughout Germany—as to examine, with all imaginable attention, the celebrated Church to which a monastery had been formerly attached—and its yet more celebrated Crypt. All my Munich friends exhorted me to descend into this crypt; and my curiosity had been not a little sharpened by the lithographic views of it (somewhat indifferently executed) which I had seen and purchased at Munich. Some of my Munich friends considered the crypt of Freysing to be coeval with Charlemagne. This was, at least, a very romantic conjecture.

The morning was gray and chill, when we left the Schwartzen Adler; but as we approached Garching, the first stage, the clouds broke, the sun shone forth, and we saw Freysing, (the second stage) situated upon a commanding eminence, at a considerable distance. In our way to Garching, the river Iser and the plains of Hohenlinden lay to the right; upon each of which, as I gazed, I could not but think alternately of MOREAU and CAMPBELL. You will readily guess wherefore. The former won the memorable battle of Hohenlinden—fought in the depth of winter—by which the Austrians were completely defeated, and which led to the treaty of Luneville: and the latter (that is, our Thomas Campbell) celebrated that battle in an Ode—of which I never know how to speak in sufficient terms of admiration: an ode, which seems to unite all the fire of Pindar with all the elegance of Horace; of which, parts equal Gray in sublimity, and Collins in pathos.

We drove to the best, if not the only, Inn at Freysing; and, ordering a late dinner, immediately visited the cathedral;—not however without taking the shop of Mozler, the bookseller, in our way, and finding—to my misfortune—that the owner was absent on a journey; and his sister, the resident, perfectly ignorant of French. We then ascended towards the cathedral, which is a comparatively modern building; at least every thing above ground is of that description. The CRYPT, however, more than answered my expectations. I should have no hesitation in calling it perfectly unique; as I have neither seen, nor heard, nor read of any thing the least resembling it. The pillars, which support the roof, have monsters crawling up their shafts—devouring one another, as one sees them in the margins of the earlier illuminated MSS.

The altar beneath Our Lady's chapel was a confused mass of lumber and rubbish; but, if I were to select—from all the strange and gloomy receptacles, attached to places of religious worship, which I have seen since quitting the shores of my own country—any ONE SPOT, in preference to another, for the celebration of mysterious rites—it should be the CRYPT of the CATHEDRAL of FREYSING. And perhaps I should say that portions of it might be as old as the latter end of the eleventh century. From the foundation, we ascended to the very summit of the building; and from the top of the tower, had a most extensive and complete view of the plains of Hohenlinden, the rapid Iser, and the gray mist of Munich in the distance. I was much struck with a large bell, cast about fourscore years ago; the exterior of which was adorned by several inscriptions, and rather whimsical ornaments. Having gratified a curiosity of this kind, my companion and valet left me, for a stroll about the town; when I requested the guide (who could luckily talk a little bad French) to shew me the LIBRARY belonging to the monastery formerly attached to the cathedral. He told me that it was the mere relics of a library:—the very shadow of a shade.

Indeed it was quickly obvious that there were certain hiatuses upon the shelves—which told their own tale pretty readily. The books, once occupying them, had been taken to Munich. The room is light, cheerful, and even yet well garnished with books: most of them being in white forel or vellum binding. There were Bibles, out of number, about the beginning of the sixteenth century; and an abundant sprinkling of glosses, decretals, canon law, and old fashioned scholastic lore of the same period. Nevertheless, I was glad to have examined it; and do not know that I have visited many more desirable book-apartments since I left England. In my way to the inn, I took a more leisurely survey of the collection of Mr. Mozler: but his sister had not returned from vespers, and I was left absolutely alone—with the exception of a female servant; who, pointing to the book-room above stairs, as the supposed fittest place for my visit, betook herself to her culinary occupations. Since the sight of the premises of the younger Manoury at Caen,[77] I had never witnessed such a scene of darkness, lumber, and confusion:—yet I must do Mr. Mozler the justice to say, that there was much which might have repaid the toil of a minute examination. But I was pressed for time: and the appetites of my travelling companions might be sharpened so as to stand in need of an immediate attack upon the cotelette and wine.

We dined as expeditiously as ever the Trojans or Grecians did, on expecting a sally from the foe. The red wine was, I think, the most delicious I had then drank in Germany. A little before six, we left Freysing for Moosburg: a ten mile stage; but we had not got a quarter of a league upon our journey, when we discovered, to the right, somewhat in our rear, a more complete view of the Tyrolese mountains than we had yet seen. They appeared to be as huge monsters, with overtopping heads, disporting themselves in an element of their own—many thousand feet in the air! It was dusk when we changed horses at Moosburg: and the moon, then pretty far advanced towards the full, began to supply the light of which we stood so much in need. Landshut was our next and final stage; but it was unlucky for the first view of a church, of which the tower is considered to be the highest in Bavaria, that we were to see it at such a moment. The air of the evening was mild, and the sky was almost entirely covered by thin flaky clouds, as we pushed on for Landshut. On our immediate approach to it, the valet told us that he well remembered the entrance of the French into Landshut, on Bonaparte's advance to Munich and Vienna. He was himself in the rear of the assault—attending upon his master, one of the French generals. He said, that the French entered the further end of the town from that where we should make our entrance; and that, having gained a considerable eminence, by a circuitous route, above the river, unobserved, they rushed forward—bursting open the barriers—and charging the Austrians at the point of the bayonet. The contest was neither long nor sanguinary. A prudent surrender saved the town from pillage, and the inhabitants from slaughter.

On entering Landshut, without having caught any thing like a determined view of the principal church, we found the centre of the principal street entirely occupied by booths and stalls, for an approaching fair—to take place within a few following days. The line of wooden buildings could scarcely extend less than half a mile. We drove to the principal inn, which was spacious and tolerably clean; bespoke good beds, and found every appearance of comfort. I was resolved to devote the next day entirely to the PUBLIC LIBRARY—attached to the University, brought hither from Ingoldstadt. Of course I had been long acquainted with the general character of the early-printed books, from the valuable work of Seemiller;[78] and was resolved to make especial enquiry, in the first place, for the Aldine duodecimo of the Greek Hours, of which you have already heard so much. I carried with me a letter to Professor SIEBENKEES, the Head Librarian. In short, I anticipated a day of bibliographical "joyaunce."

I was not disappointed in my expectations. The day was as beautiful without, as I found it profitable within doors. The Professor was all kindness, and was pleased to claim a long and intimate acquaintance with me, through certain works which need not be here mentioned: but it would be the height of affectation not to avow the satisfaction I felt in witnessing a thoroughly cut-open, and tolerably well-thumbed copy, of the Bibl. Spenceriana lying upon his table. I instantly commenced the examination of the library, while the Professor as readily offered his services of assistance. "Where are your Aldine Greek Hours of 1497?" observed I. "Alas, Sir, that book exists no longer here!"—replied the Professor, in a melancholy tone of voice, and with an expression of countenance which indicated more than was meant by his words. "Nevertheless, (rejoined I) Seemiller describes it as having been at Ingoldstadt." "He does so—but in the conveyance of the books from thence hither, it has somehow disappeared."[79] Again the Professor looked more significantly than he spake. "What is invisible cannot be seen"—observed I—"and therefore allow me to take notes of what is before my eyes." "Most willingly and cheerfully. Here is every thing you wish. The more you write, the greater will be my satisfaction; although, after Paris and Munich, there is scarcely any thing worthy of particular description. But ere you begin your labours, allow me to introduce you to the several rooms in which the books are contained."

I expressed great pleasure in complying with the Professor's request, and followed him into every apartment. This library, my dear friend, is placed in one of the prettiest situations imaginable. Some meandering branches of the Iser intersect and fertilize considerable tracts of meadow land; equally rich in colour and (as I learnt) in produce: and terminated by some gently swelling hills, quite in the vicinity of the town. The whole had a perfectly English aspect. The rooms were numerous, and commanded a variety of views. They were well lighted by side windows, and the shelves and wainscots were coloured chiefly in white. One small hexagonal closet, or cabinet, on the first floor—(as is indeed the whole suite of apartments) caught my fancy exceedingly, and won my very heart. The view before it, or rather from three of its six sides, was exhilirating in the extreme. "Here Mr. Professor, quoth I, (gently laying hold of his left arm) here will I come, and, if in any spot, put together my materials for a third edition of the BIBLIOMANIA." The worthy Professor, for a little moment, thought me serious—and quickly replied "By all means do so: and you shall be accommodated with every thing necessary for carrying so laudable a design into execution." It was a mere bibliomaniacal vision:[80] dissipated the very moment I had quitted the apartment for another.

I shall now give you the result of my examination of a few of the rarer and early-printed books in the PUBLIC LIBRARY of Landshut. And first of MANUSCRIPTS. An Evangelistarium, probably of the tenth century, is worth particular notice; if it be only on the score of its scription—which is perfectly beautiful: the most so of any, of such a remote period, which I have ever seen. It is a folio volume, bound in wood, with a stamped parchment cover of about the end of the fifteenth century. They possess a copy of the oldest written Laws of Bavaria; possibly of the twelfth—but certainly of the thirteenth century. It is a duodecimo MS. inlaid in a quarto form. No other MS. particularly struck my fancy, in the absence of all that was Greek or Roman: but a very splendid Polish Missal, in 8vo. which belonged to Sigismund, King of Poland, in the sixteenth century, seemed worthy of especial notice. The letters are graceful and elegant; but the style of art is heavy, although not devoid of effect. The binding is crimson velvet, with brass knobs, and a central metallic ornament—apparently more ancient than the book itself. This latter may have been possibly taken from another volume.

Of the Printed Books—after the treasures of this kind seen (as the Professor intimated) at Paris and Munich—there was comparatively very little which claimed attention. They have a cropt and stained copy of Mentelin's German Bible, but quite perfect: two copies of the supposed first German Bible, for one of which I proposed an exchange in a copy of the B.S. and of the AEdes Althorpianae as soon as this latter work should be published. The proposition was acceded to on the part of the Head Librarian, and it will be forwarded to the honest and respectable firm of John and Arthur Arch, booksellers; who, previously to my leaving England, had requested me to make something like a similar purchase for them—should a fine copy of this German Bible present itself for sale.[81]

Here I saw Mentelin's edition of the De Civitate Dei of St. Austin: and a good sound copy of the very rare edition of Mammotrectus, printed by Helias de Helie, in 1470: a beautiful copy of Martin Brand's Psalter of 1486, printed at Leipsic, in 4to. in a large square gothic type; and a duplicate copy of the Leipsic Psalter of the preceding year, printed by Conrad Kachelovez, in 4to. which latter I obtained for the library in St. James's Place. There were at least ten copies of the early Block Books; of which the Ars Memorandi and the Anti-Christ (with extracts inserted in the latter from the B.S.) appeared to be the more ancient and interesting. But I must not forget to mention a very indifferent and imperfect copy of the Latin Bible of Fust, of 1462, UPON VELLUM. A few leaves in each volume are wanting. Here too I saw the Pfarzival of 1477 (as at Strasbourg) printed in a metrical form.

As I got among the books of the sixteenth century, I was much more gratified with the result of my researches. I will begin with a very choice article: which is nothing less than a copy of the Complutensian Polyglott, purchased by Eckius, in 1521, of the celebrated Demetrius Chalcondylas—as the following coeval ms. memorandum attests: "Rome empta biblia ista P Eckium P xiiij ducatis largis a Demetrio Calcondyla anno 1521; mortuo iam Leone Papa in Decembri." The death of Leo is here particularly mentioned, because, during his life, it is said that that Pontiff prohibited the sale of the work in question. The copy is fair and sound; but both this, and a duplicate copy, wants the sixth volume, being the Dictionary or Vocabulary. The mention of Eckius leads me to notice a little anecdote connected with him. He was, as you may have read, one of the most learned, most eloquent, and most successful of Luther's antagonists. He was also the principal theological Professor in the University of Ingoldstadt. They preserve at Landshut, brought from the former place, the chair and the doctor's cap of their famous Anti-Lutheran champion. You see both of these in one of the principal apartments of the Public Library. I was requested to sit in the chair of the renowned Eckius, and to put his doctorial bonnet upon my head. I did both:—but, if I had sat for a century to come, I should never have fancied myself Eckius ... for more reasons than one.

The Sub Librarian, who is a Catholic, (Professor Siebenkees being a Protestant) has shewn great good sense in preserving all the tracts, which have fallen in his way, both for and against the Lutheran controversy. You go between two small book-cases, or sets of shelves, and find Luther in front, and Eckius and his followers in the rear of you; or vice versa. A considerable number of rare and curious little pieces of Erasmus and Melancthon, are mixed in this collection, which is far from being small either in number or value. In this interesting collection, I saw a good copy of Ross's work against Luther, of the date of 1523, which appeared to me to be printed by Pynson.[82] It had the autograph of Sir Thomas More—("Thom^{9} mor^{9}"—) who indeed is said to have been the author of the work. This very copy belonged to Eckius, and was given to him by the author, when Eckius came over to England in 1525: the fact being thus attested in the hand-writing of the latter: "Codex iste dono datus est mihi Johanni Eckio ab illius autore in Anglia, dum visendi cupidus in Insulam traiecissem, 1525, Augusto x." The worthy Professor next put into my hands what he considered to be an absolutely unique copy of Der Veis Ritter, in 1514, folio: adding, that no other copy of the adventures of the White Knight, of the same date, was known to bibliographers. I assented to the observation—equally from courtesy and sheer ignorance. But surely this is somewhat difficult to believe.

There was nothing further that demanded a distinct registry; and so, making my bow, and shaking hands with the worthy Librarian very heartily, I quitted this congenial spot;—not however before I had been introduced to a Professor of botany (whose name has now escaped me) who was busily engaged in making extracts in the reading room, with a short pipe by the side of him, and a small red tasselled cap upon his head. He had an expressive countenance; understood our language so as to read Shakespeare with facility, and even with rapture: and to a question of mine, whether he was not much gratified with Schlegel's critical remarks upon that dramatist, he replied, that "he did not admire them so much, as, from the Edinburgh Review, the English appeared to do." To another question—"which of Shakspeare's plays pleased him most?" he replied, unhesitatingly, "Romeo and Juliet." I own, I should have thought that the mystical, or philosophy-loving, brain of a German would have preferred Hamlet.

On leaving the library, I surveyed the town with tolerably minute attention. After Munich, it appeared sufficiently small. Its population indeed scarcely exceeds 8000. The day turned out very beautiful, and my first and principal attention was directed to St. Martin's Church; of which the tower (as I think I before told you) is considered to be full 420 feet in height, and the loftiest in Bavaria. But its height is its principal boast. Both in detail, and as a whole, the architecture is miserably capricious and tasteless. It is built of red brick. Many of the monuments in the church-yard, but more particularly some mural ones, struck me as highly characteristic of the country. Among these rude specimens of sculpture, the representation of Our Saviour's Agony in the Garden—the favourite subject in Bavaria—was singularly curious to a fresh eye. It may be between two and three hundred years old; but has suffered no injury. They have, in the principal street, covered walks, for foot-passengers, in a piazza-fashion, a little resembling those at Chester: but neither so old nor so picturesque. The intermixture of rural objects, such as trees and grass plats—in the high street of Landshut—renders a stroll in the town exceedingly agreeable to the lover of picturesque scenery. The booths and stalls were all getting ready for the fair—which I learnt was to last nearly a fortnight: and which I was too thankful to have escaped.

We left Landshut on a fine sun-shining afternoon, purposing to sleep at the second stage—Neuemarkt—(Angl. "Newmarket") in the route to Salzburg. Neuemarkt is little better than a small village, but we fared well in every respect at the principal, if not the only, inn in the place. Our beds were even luxurious. Neuemarkt will be quickly forgotten: but the following stage—or Altoeting—will not be so easily banished from our recollection. We reached it to a late breakfast—after passing through the most fertile and beautifully varied country which I had yet seen—and keeping almost constantly in view the magnificent chain of the Tyrolese mountains, into the very heart of which we seemed to be directing our course. ALTOeTING is situated upon an eminence. We drove into the Place, or Square, and alighted at what seemed to be a large and respectable inn. Two ladies and two gentlemen had just arrived before us, from Munich, by a different route: and while I was surveying them, almost mistaking them for English, and had just exchanged salutations, my valet came and whispered in my ear that "these good folks were come on a pilgrimage to the shrine of the Black Virgin." While I was wondering at this intelligence, the valet continued: "you see that small church in the centre of the square—it is there where the richest shrine in Bavaria is deposited; and to-day is a 'high day' with the devotees who come to worship." On receiving this information, we all three prepared to visit this mean-looking little church. I can hardly describe to you with sufficient accuracy, the very singular, and to me altogether new, scene which presented itself on reaching the church. There is a small covered way—in imitation of cloisters—which goes entirely round it. The whole of the interior of these cloisters is covered with little pictures, images, supposed relics—and, in short votive offerings of every description, to the Holy Virgin, to whom the church is dedicated. The worshippers believe that the mother of Christ was an African by birth, and therefore you see little black images of the virgin stuck up in every direction. At first, I mistook the whole for a parcel of pawnbrokers shops near each other: and eyed the several articles with a disposition, more or less, to become a purchaser of a few.

But the sound of the chant, and the smell of the frankincense, broke in upon my speculations, and called my attention to the interior. I entered with a sort of rush of the congregation. This interior struck me as being scarcely thirty feet by twenty; but the eye is a deceitful rule in these cases. However, I continued to advance towards the altar; the heat, at the same time, being almost suffocating. An iron grating separated the little chapel and shrine of our Black Lady from the other portion of the building; and so numerous, so constant, and apparently so close, had been the pressure and friction of each succeeding congregation, for probably more than two centuries, that some of these rails, or bars, originally at least one inch square, had been worn to half the size of their pristine dimensions. It was with difficulty, on passing them, that I could obtain a peep at the altar; which, however, I saw sufficiently distinctly to perceive that it was entirely covered with silver vases, cups, dishes, and other solid proofs of devotional ardour—which in short seemed to reach to the very roof. Having thus far gratified my curiosity, I retreated as quickly as possible; for not a window was open, and the little light which these windows emitted, together with the heat of the place, produced so disagreeable an effect as to make me apprehensive of sudden illness. On reaching the outward door, and enjoying the freedom of respiration, I made a sort of secret, but natural vow, that I would never again visit the shrine of Our Black Lady on a festival day.

An excellent breakfast—together with the neatness and civility of the female attendants—soon counter-acted the bad effects of the hydrogen contained within the walls of the place of worship we had just quitted. Every thing around us wore a cheerful and pleasing aspect; inasmuch as every thing reminded us of our own country. The servants were numerous, and all females; with their hair braided in a style of elegance which would not have disgraced the first drawing-room in London. We quaffed coffee out of cups which were perfectly of the Brobdignagian calibre; and the bread had the lightness and sweetness of cake. Between eleven and twelve, Charles Rohfritsch (alias our valet) announced that the carriage and horses were at the door; and on springing into it, we bade adieu to the worthy landlady and her surrounding attendants, in a manner quite natural to travellers who have seen something very unusual and interesting, and who have in other respects been well satisfied with good fare, and civil treatment. Not one of the circle could speak a word of French; so I told Charles to announce to them that we would not fail to spread the fame of their coffee, eggs, and bread, all over England! They laughed heartily—and then gave us a farewell salutation ... by dropping very-formal curtesies—their countenances instantly relapsing into a corresponding gravity of expression.

In three minutes the inn, the square, and the church of the Black Virgin, were out of sight. The postilion put his bugle to his mouth, and played a lively air—in which the valet immediately joined. The musical infatuation, for an instant, extended to ourselves; for it was a tune which we had often heard in England, and which reminded me, in particular, of days of past happiness—never to return! But the sky was bright, the breeze soft, the road excellent, and the view perfectly magnificent. It was evident that we were now nearing the Tyrolese mountains. "At the foot of yonder second, sharp-pointed hill, lies SALZBURG"—said the valet: on receiving his intelligence from the post-boy. We seemed to be yet some twenty miles distant. To the right of the hill pointed out, the mountains rose with a loftier swell, and, covered by snow, the edges or terminations of their summits seemed to melt into the sky.

Our road now became more hilly, and the time flew away quickly, without our making an apparently proportionate progress towards Salzburg. At length we reached Burckhausen; which is flanked by the river Salz on one side, and defended by a lofty citadel on the other. It struck us, upon the whole, as rather a romantic spot: but the road, on entering the town, is in some places fearfully precipitous. The stratum was little better than rock. We were not long in changing horses, and made off instantly for Tittmaning; the last stage but one on that side of Salzburg. The country wore a more pleasing aspect. Stately trees spread their dark foliage on each side of the road; between the stems, and through the branches of which, we caught many a "spirit-stirring" view of the mountains in the neighbourhood of Salzburg—which, on our nearer approach, seemed to have attained double their first grandeur. After having changed horses at Tittmaning, and enjoyed a delightfully picturesque ride from Burckhausen thither, we dined at the following stage, Lauffen; a poor, yet picturesque and wildly-situated, large village. While the dinner was preparing, I walked to the extremity of the street where the inn is situated, and examined a small church, built there upon high ground. The cloisters were very striking; narrow and low, but filled with mural monuments, of a singular variety of character. It was quite evident, from numberless exhibitions of art—connected with religious worship—along the road-side, or attached to churches—that we had now entered a territory quite different from that of Baden, Wirtemberg, and even the northern part of Bavaria. Small crucifixes, and a representation of the Agony in the Garden, &c, presented themselves frequently to our view; and it seemed as if Austria were a land of even greater superstition than Bavaria.

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