A Bibliographical, Antiquarian and Picturesque Tour in France and Germany, Volume Three
by Thomas Frognall Dibdin
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Strasbourg to Stuttgart. Baden. The Elder Schweighaeuser. STUTTGART. The Public Library. The Royal Library, 1


The Royal Palace. A Bibliographical Negotiation. Dannecker the Sculptor. Environs of Stuttgart, 43


Departure from Stuttgart. ULM. AUGSBOURG. The Picture Gallery at Augsbourg, 55


AUGSBOURG. Civil and Ecclesiastical Architecture. Population. Trade. The Public Library, 91


MUNICH. Churches. Royal Palace. Picture Gallery. The Public Library, 105

LETTER VI. Further Book-Acquisitions. Society. The Arts, 149


Freysing. Landshut. Altoeting. Salzburg. The Monastery of St. Peter, 169


Salzburg to Chremsminster. The Lake Gmunden. The Monastery of Chremsminster. Lintz, 206


The Monasteries of St. Florian, Moelk, and Goettwic, 232


VIENNA. Imperial Library. Illuminated MSS. and early printed Books, 279


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, 335


Ratisbon, Nuremberg, Manheim, 407



Stuttgart, Poste Royale, August 4, 1818.

Within forty-eight hours of the conclusion of my last, I had passed the broad and rapidly-flowing Rhine. Having taken leave of all my hospitable acquaintances at Strasbourg, I left the Hotel de l'Esprit between five and six in the afternoon—when the heat of the day had a little subsided—with a pair of large, sleek, post horses; one of which was bestrode by the postilion, in the red and yellow livery of the duchy of Baden.

Our first halting place, to change horses, was Kehl; but we had not travelled a league on this side of the Rhine, ere we discovered a palpable difference in the general appearance of the country. There was more pasture-land. The houses were differently constructed, and were more generally surrounded by tall trees. Our horses carried us somewhat fleetly along a good, broad, and well-conditioned road. Nothing particularly arrested our attention till we reached Bischoffsheim, a la haute monte; where the general use of the German language soon taught us the value of our laquais; who, from henceforth, will be often called by his baptismal name of Charles. At Bischoffsheim, while fresh horses were being put to, I went to look at the church; an humble edifice—but rather picturesquely situated. In my way thither I passed, with surprise, a great number of Jews of both sexes; loitering in all directions. I learnt that this place was the prescribed limits of their peregrinations; and that they were not suffered, by law, to travel beyond it: but whether this law restricted them from entering Suabia, or Bavaria, I could not learn. I approached the church, and with the aid of a good-natured verger, who happened luckily to speak French, I was conducted all over the interior—which was sufficiently neat. But the object of my peculiar astonishment was, that Jews, Protestants, and Catholics, all flocked alike, and frequently, at the SAME TIME, to exercise their particular forms of worship within this church!—a circumstance, almost partaking of the felicity of an Utopian commonwealth. I observed, indeed, a small crucifix upon the altar, which confirmed me in the belief that the Lutheran worship, according to the form of the Augsbourg confession, was practised here; and the verger told me there was no other place of worship in the village. His information might be deceitful or erroneous; but it is to the honour of his character that I add, that, on offering him a half florin for his trouble in shewing me the church, he seemed to think it a point of conscience not to receive it. His refusal was mild but firm—and he concluded by saying, gently repelling the hand which held the money, "jamais, jamais!" Is it thus, thought I to myself, that "they order things in" Germany?

The sun had set, and the night was coming on apace, after we left Bischoffsheim, and turned from the high road on the left, leading to Rastadt to take the right, for Baden. For the advantage of a nearer cut, we again turned to the right—and passed through a forest of about a league in length. It was now quite dark and late: and if robbers were abroad, this surely was the hour and the place for a successful attack upon defenceless travellers. The postboy struck a light, to enjoy the comfort of his pipe, which he quickly put to his mouth, and of which the light and scent were equally cheering and pleasant. We were so completely hemmed in by trees, that their branches brushed strongly in our faces, as we rolled swiftly along. Every thing was enveloped in silence and darkness: but the age of banditti, as well as of chivalry—at least in Germany—appears to be "gone." We sallied forth from the wood unmolested; gained again the high road; and after discerning some lights at a distance, which our valet told us (to our great joy) were the lights of BADEN, we ascended and descended—till, at midnight, we entered the town. On passing a bridge, upon which I discerned a whole-length statue of St. Francis, (with the infant Christ in his arms) we stopped, to the right, at the principal hotel, of which I have forgotten the name; but of which, one Monsieur or Le Baron Cotta, a bookseller of this town, is said to be the proprietor.

The servants were yet stirring: but the hotel was so crowded that it was impossible to receive us. We pushed on quickly to another, of which I have also forgotten the name—and found the principal street almost entirely filled by the carriages of visitors. Here again we were told there was no room for us. Had it not been for our valet, we must have slept in the open street; but he recollected a third inn, whither we went immediately, and to our joy found just accommodation sufficient. We saw the carriage safely put into the remise, and retired to rest. The next morning, upon looking out of window, every thing seemed to be faery land. I had scarcely ever before viewed so beautiful a spot. I found the town of Baden perfectly surrounded by six or seven lofty, fir-clad hills, of tapering forms, and of luxuriant verdure. Thus, although compared with such an encircling belt of hills, Baden may be said to lie in a hollow—it is nevertheless, of itself, upon elevated ground; commanding views of lawns, intersected by gravel walks; of temples, rustic benches, and detached buildings of a variety of description. Every thing, in short, bespeaks nature improved by art; and every thing announced that I was in a place frequented by the rich, the fashionable, and the gay.

I was not long in finding out the learned and venerable SCHWEIGHAEUSER, who had retired here, for a few weeks, for the benefit of the waters—which flow from hot springs, and which are said to perform wonders. Rheumatism, debility, ague, and I know not what disorders, receive their respective and certain cures from bathing in these tepid waters. I found the Professor in a lodging house, attached to the second hotel which we had visited on our arrival. I sent up my name, with a letter of introduction which I had received from his Son. I was made most welcome. In this celebrated Greek scholar, and editor of some of the most difficult ancient Greek authors, I beheld a figure advanced in years—somewhere about seventy-five—tall, slim, but upright, and firm upon his legs: with a thin, and at first view, severe countenance—but, when animated by conversation, and accompanied by a clear and melodious voice, agreeable, and inviting to discourse. The Professor was accompanied by one of his daughters; strongly resembling her brother, who had shewn me so much kindness at Strasbourg. She told me her father was fast recovering strength; and the old gentleman, as well as his daughter, strongly invited us to dinner; an invitation which we were compelled to decline.

On leaving, I walked nearly all over the town, and its immediate environs: but my first object was the CHURCH, upon the top of the hill; from which the earliest (Protestant) congregation were about to depart—not before I arrived in time to hear some excellently good vocal and instrumental music, from the front seat of a transverse gallery. There was much in this church which had an English air about it: but my attention was chiefly directed to some bronze monuments towards the eastern extremity, near the altar; and fenced off, if I remember rightly, by some rails from the nave and side aisles. Of these monuments, the earliest is that of Frederick, Bishop of Treves. He died in 1517, in his 59th year. The figure of him is recumbent: with a mitre on his head, and a quilted mail for his apron. The body is also protected, in parts, with plate armour. He wears a ring upon each of the first three fingers of his right hand. It is an admirable piece of workmanship: bold, sharp, correct, and striking in all its parts. Near this episcopal monument is another, also of bronze, of a more imposing character; namely, of Leopold William Margrave or Duke of Baden, who died in 1671, and of the Duchess, his wife. The figure of Leopold, evidently a striking portrait, is large, heavy, and ungracious; but that of his wife makes ample amends—for a more beautifully expressive and interesting bronze figure, has surely never been reared upon a monumental pedestal. She is kneeling, and her hands are closed—in the act of prayer. The head is gently turned aside, as well as inclined: the mouth is very beautiful, and has an uncommon sweetness of expression: the hair, behind, is singular but not inelegant. The following is a part of the inscription: "Vivit post funera virtus. Numinis hinc pietas conjugis inde trahit." I would give half a dozen ducats out of the supplemental supply of Madame Francs to have a fine and faithful copy of this very graceful and interesting monumental figure. As I left the church, the second (Catholic) congregation was entering for divine worship. Meanwhile the heavens were "black with clouds;" the morning till eleven o'clock, having been insufferably hot and a tremendous thunder storm—which threatened to deluge the whole place with rain—moved, in slow and sullen majesty, quite round and round the town, without producing any other effect than that of a few sharp flashes, and growling peals, at a distance. But the darkened and flitting shadows upon the fir trees, on the hills, during the slow wheeling of the threatening storm, had a magnificently picturesque appearance.

The walks, lawns, and rustic benches about Baden, are singularly pretty and convenient. Here was a play-house; there, a temple; yonder, a tavern, whither the Badenois resorted to enjoy their Sunday dinner. One of these taverns was unusually large and convenient. I entered, as a stranger, to look around me: and was instantly struck by the notes of the deepest-toned bass voice I had ever heard—accompanied by some rapidly executed passages upon the harp. These ceased—and the softer strains of a young female voice succeeded. Yonder was a master singer[1]—as I deemed him—somewhat stooping from age; with white hairs, but with a countenance strongly characteristic of intellectual energy of some kind. He was sitting in a chair. By the side of him stood the young female, about fourteen, from whose voice the strains, just heard, had proceeded. They sang alternately, and afterwards together: the man holding down his head as he struck the chords of his harp with a bold and vigorous hand. I learnt that they were uncle and niece. I shall not readily forget the effect of these figures, or of the songs which they sang; especially the sonorous notes of the mastersinger, or minstrel. He had a voice of most extraordinary compass. I quickly perceived that I was now in the land of music; but the guests seemed to be better pleased with their food than with the songs of this old bard, for he had scarcely received a half florin since I noticed him.

Professor Schweighaeuser came to visit me at the appointed hour of six, in order to have an evening stroll together to a convent, about two miles off, which is considered to be the fashionable evening walk and ride of the place. I shall long have reason to remember this walk; as well from the instructive discourse of my venerable and deeply learned guide, as from the beauty of the scenery and variety of the company. As the heat of the day subsided, the company quitted their tables in great crowds. The mall was full. Here was Eugene Beauharnois, drawn in a carriage by four black steeds, with traces of an unusual length between the leaders and wheel horses. A grand Duke was parading to the right: to the left, a Marchioness was laughing a pleine gorge. Here walked a Count, and there rode a General. Bavarians, Austrians, French, and English—intermixed with the tradesmen of Baden, and the rustics of the adjacent country—all, glittering in their gayest sabbath-attires, mingled in the throng, and appeared to vie with each other in gaiety and loudness of talk.

We gained a more private walk, within a long avenue of trees; where a small fountain, playing in the midst of a grove of elm and beech, attracted the attention both of the Professor and ourselves. "It is here," observed the former—"where I love to come and read your favourite Thomson." He then mentioned Pope, and quoted some verses from the opening of his Essay on Man—and also declared his particular attachment to Young and Akenside. "But our Shakspeare and Milton, Sir—what think you of these?" "They are doubtless very great and superior to either: but if I were to say that I understood them as well, I should say what would be an untruth: and nothing is more disgusting than an affectation of knowing what you have, comparatively, very little knowledge of." We continued our route towards the convent, at a pretty brisk pace; with great surprise, on my part, at the firm and rapid movements of the Professor. Having reached the convent, we entered, and were admitted within the chapel. The nuns had just retired; but we were shewn the partition of wood which screens them most effectually from the inquisitive eyes of the rest of the congregation. We crossed a shallow, but rapidly running brook, over which was only one plank, of the ordinary width, to supply the place of a bridge. The venerable Professor led the way—tripping along so lightly, and yet so surely, as to excite our wonder. We then mounted the hill on the opposite side of the convent; where there are spiral, and neatly trimmed, gravel walks, which afford the means of an easy and pleasant ascent—but not altogether free from a few sharp and steep turnings. From the summit of this hill, the Professor bade me look around, and view a valley which was the pride of the neighbourhood, and which was considered to have no superior in Suabia. It was certainly very beautiful—luxuriant in pasture and woodland scenery, and surrounded by hills crowned with interminable firs.

As we descended, the clock of the convent struck eight, which was succeeded by the tolling of the convent bell. After a day of oppressive heat, with a lowering atmosphere threatening instant tempest, it was equally, grateful and refreshing to witness a calm blue sky, chequered by light fleecy clouds, which, as they seemed to be scarcely impelled along by the evening breeze, were fringed in succession by the hues of a golden sun-set. The darkening shadows of the trees added to the generally striking effect of the scene. As we neared the town, I perceived several of the common people, apparently female rustics, walking in couples, or in threes, with their arms round each others necks, joining in some of the popular airs of their country. The off-hand and dextrous manner in which they managed the second parts, surprised and delighted me exceedingly. I expressed my gratification to Mr. Schweighaeuser, who only smiled at my wondering simplicity. "If these delight you so much, what would you say to our professors?"—observed he. "Possibly, I might not like them quite so well," replied I. The professor pardoned such apparent heresy; and we continued to approach the town. We were thirsty from our walk, and wished to enter the tea gardens to partake of refreshment. Our guide became here both our interpreter and best friend; for he insisted upon treating us. We retired into a bocage, and partook of one of the most delicious bottles of white wine which I ever remember to have tasted. He was urgent for a second bottle; but I told him we were very sober Englishmen.

In our way home, the discourse fell upon literature, and I was anxious to obtain from our venerable companion an account of his early studies, and partialities for the texts of such Greek authors as he had edited. He told me that he was first put upon collations of Greek MSS. by our Dr. Musgrave, for his edition of Euripides; and that he dated, from that circumstance, his first and early love of classical research. This attachment had increased upon him as he became older—had "grown with his growth, and strengthened with his strength"—and had induced him to grapple with the unsettled, and in parts difficult, texts of Appian, Epictetus, and Athenaeus. He spoke with a modest confidence of his Herodotus—just published: said that he was even then meditating a second Latin version of it: and observed that, for the more perfect execution of the one now before the public, he had prepared himself by a diligent perusal of the texts of the purer Latin historians. We had now entered the town, and it was with regret that I was compelled to break off such interesting conversation. In spite of the lateness of the hour (ten o'clock) and the darkness of the evening, the worthy old Grecian would not suffer me to accompany him home—although the route to his house was devious, and in part precipitously steep, and the Professor's sight was not remarkably good. When we parted, it was agreed that I should breakfast with him on the morrow, at eight o'clock, as we intended to quit Baden at nine.

The next morning, I was true to the hour. The Professor's coffee, bread, butter, and eggs were excellent. Having requested our valet to settle every thing at the inn, and bring the carriage and horses to the door of M. Schweighaeuser by nine o'clock, I took a hearty leave of our amiable and venerable host, accompanied with mutual regrets at the shortness of the visit—and with a resolution to cultivate an acquaintance so heartily began. As we got into the carriage, I held up his portrait which Mr. Lewis had taken,[2] and told him "he would be neither out of sight nor out of mind" He smiled graciously—waved his right hand from the balcony upon which he stood—and by half-past nine we found the town of Baden in our rear. I must say that I never left a place, which had so many attractions, with keener regret, and a more fixed determination to revisit it. That "revisit" may possibly never arise; but I recommend all English travellers to spend a week, at the least, at Baden—called emphatically, Baden-Baden. The young may be gratified by the endless amusements of society, in many of its most polished forms. The old may be delighted by the contemplation of nature in one of her most picturesque aspects, as well as invigorated by the waters which gush in boiling streams from her rocky soil.

I shall not detain you a minute upon the road from Baden to this place; although we were nearly twenty-four hours so detained. Rastadt and Karlsruhe are the only towns worth mentioning in the route. The former is chiefly distinguished for its huge and tasteless castle or palace—a sort of Versailles in miniature; and the latter is singularly pleasing to an Englishman's eye, from the trim and neat appearance of the houses, walks, and streets; which latter have the footpaths almost approaching to our pavement. You enter and quit the town through an avenue of lofty and large stemmed poplars, at least a mile long. The effect, although formal, is pleasing. They were the loftiest poplars which I had ever beheld. The churches, public buildings, gardens, and streets (of which latter the principal is a mile long) have all an air of tidiness and comfort; although the very sight of them is sufficient to freeze the blood of an antiquary. There is nothing, apparently, more than ninety-nine years old! We dined at Karlsruhe, and slept at Schweiberdingen, one stage on this side of Stuttgart: but for two or three stages preceding Stuttgart, we were absolutely astonished at the multitude of apple-trees, laden, even to the breaking down of the branches, with goodly fruit, just beginning to ripen: and therefore glittering in alternate hues of red and yellow—all along the road-side as well as in private gardens. The vine too was equally fruitful, and equally promising of an abundant harvest.

There was a drizzling rain when we entered THIS TOWN. We passed the long range of royal stables to the right, and the royal palace to the left; the latter, with the exception of a preposterously large gilt crown placed upon the central part of a gilt cushion, in every respect worthy of a royal residence. On, driving to the hotel of the Roi d'Angleterre, we found every room and every bed occupied; and were advised to go to the place from whence I now address you. But the Roman Emperor is considered to be more fashionable: that is to say, the charges are more extravagant. Another time, however, I will visit neither the one nor the other; but take up my quarters at the King of Wirtemberg—the neatest, cleanliest, and most comfortable hotel in Stuttgart. In this house there is too much noise and bustle for a traveller whose nerves are liable to be affected.

As a whole, Stuttgart is a thoroughly dull place. Its immediate environs are composed of vine-covered hills, which, at this season of the year, have an extremely picturesque appearance; but, in winter, when nothing but a fallow-like looking earth is visible, the effect must be very dreary. This town is large, and the streets—especially the Koenings-strasse, or King-Street,—are broad and generally well paved. The population may be about twenty-two thousand. He who looks for antiquities, will be cruelly disappointed; with the exception of the Hotel de Ville, which is placed near a church, and more particularly of a Crucifix—there is little or nothing to satisfy the hungry cravings of a thorough-bred English Antiquary. The latter is of stone, of a rough grain, and sombre tint: and the figures are of the size of life. They are partly mutilated; especially the right leg of our Saviour, and the nose of St. John. Yet you will not fail to distinguish, particularly from the folds of the drapery, that precise character of art which marked the productions both of the chisel and of the pencil in the first half of the sixteenth century. The Christ is, throughout, even including the drapery, finely marked; and the attitude of the Virgin, in looking up, has great expression. She embraces intensely the foot of the cross; while her eyes and very soul seem to be as intensely rivetted to her suffering and expiring Son.

I was not long in introducing myself to M. LE BRET, the head Librarian; for the purpose of gaining admission to the PUBLIC LIBRARY. That gentleman and myself have not only met, but met frequently and cordially. Each interview only increased the desire for a repetition of it: and the worthy and well-informed Head Librarian has partaken of a trout and veal dinner with me, and shared in one bottle of Fremder Wein, and in another of Ordinaerer Wein.[3] We have, in short, become quite sociable; and I will begin by affirming, that, a more thoroughly competent, active, and honourable officer, for the situation which he occupies, his Majesty the King of Wuertemberg does not possess in any nook, corner, or portion of his Suabian dominions. I will prove what I say at the point of—my pen. Yet more extraordinary intelligence. A "deed of note" has been performed; and to make the mystery more mysterious, you are to know that I have paid my respects to the King, at his late levee; the first which has taken place since the accouchement of the Queen.[4] And what should be the object of this courtly visit? Truly, nothing more or less than to agitate a question respecting the possession of two old editions of Virgil, printed in the year 1471. But let me be methodical.

When I parted from Lord Spencer on this "Bibliographical, Antiquarian and Picturesque Tour," I was reminded by his Lordship of the second edition of the Virgil printed at Rome by Sweynheym and Pannartz, and of another edition, printed by Adam, in 1471, both being in the public library of this place:—but, rather with a desire, than any seriously-grounded hope, on his part of possessing them. Now, when we were running down upon Nancy—as described in a recent despatch,[5] I said to Mr. Lewis, on obtaining a view of what I supposed might be the Vosges, that, "behind the Vosges was the Rhine, and on the other side of the Rhine was Stuttgart! and it was at Stuttgart that I should play my first trump-card in the bibliographical pack which I carried about me." But all this seemed mystery, or methodised madness, to my companion. However, I always bore his Lordship's words in mind—and something as constantly told me that I should gain possession of these long sought after treasures: but in fair and honourable combat: such as beseemeth a true bibliographical Knight.

Having proposed to visit the public library on the morrow—and to renew the visit as often and as long as I pleased—I found, on my arrival, the worthy Head Librarian, seriously occupied in a careful estimate of the value of the Virgils in question—and holding up Brunet's Manuel du Libraire in his right hand—"Tenez, mon ami," exclaimed he, "vous voyez que la seconde edition de Virgile, imprimee par vos amis Sweynheym et Pannartz, est encore plus rare que la premiere." I replied that "c'etoit la fantasie seule de l'auteur." However, he expressed himself ready to receive preliminaries, which would be submitted to the Minister of the Interior, and by him—to the King; for that the library was the exclusive property of his Majesty. It was agreed, in the first instance, that the amount of the pecuniary value of the two books should be given in modern books of our own country; and I must do M. Le Bret the justice to say, that, having agreed upon the probable pecuniary worth, he submitted a list of books, to be received in exchange, which did equal honour to his liberality and judgment.

I have said something about the local of this Public Library, and of its being situated in the market-place.[6] This market-place, or square, is in the centre of the town; and it is the only part, in the immediate vicinity of which the antiquarian's eye is cheered by a sight of the architecture of the sixteenth century. It is in this immediate vicinity, that the Hotel de Ville is situated; a building, full of curious and interesting relics of sculpture in wood and stone. Just before it, is a fountain of black marble, where the women come to fetch water, and the cattle to drink. Walking in a straight line with the front of the public library (which is at right angles with the Hotel de Ville) you gain the best view of this Hotel, in conjunction with the open space, or market place, and of the churches in the distance. About this spot, Mr. Lewis fixed himself, with his pencil and paper in hand, and produced a drawing from which I select the following felicitous portion.

But to return to the Public Library. You are to know therefore, that The Public Library of Stuttgart contains, in the whole, about 130,000 volumes. Of these, there are not fewer than 8200 volumes relating to the Sacred Text: exclusively of duplicates. This library has been indeed long celebrated for its immense collection of Bibles. The late King of Wuertemberg, but more particularly his father, was chiefly instrumental to this extraordinary collection:—and yet, of the very earlier Latin impressions, they want the Mazarine, or the Editio Princeps; and the third volume of Pfister's edition. Indeed the first volume of their copy of the latter wants a leaf or two of prefatory matter. They have two copies of the first German Bible, by Mentelin[7]—of which one should be disposed of, for the sake of contributing to the purchase of the earliest edition of the Latin series. Each copy is in the original binding; but they boast of having a complete series of German Bibles before the time of Luther; and of Luther's earliest impression of 1524, printed by Peypus, they have a fine copy UPON VELLUM, like that in the Althorp Library; but I think taller. Of Fust's Bible of 1462, there is but an indifferent and cropt copy, upon paper; but of the Polish Bible of 1563, there is a very fine one, in the first oaken binding. Of English Bibles, there is no edition before that of 1541, of which the copy happens to be imperfect. They have a good large copy, in the original binding, of the Sclavonian Bible of 1581. Yet let me not dismiss this series of earlier Bibles, printed in different languages, without noticing the copies of Italian versions of August and October 1471. Of the August impression, there is unluckily only the second volume; but such another second volume will not probably be found in any public or private library in Europe. It is just as if it had come fresh from the press of Vindelin de Spira, its printer. Some of the capital letters are illuminated in the sweetest manner possible. The leaves are white, unstained, and crackling; and the binding is of wood. Of the October impression, the copy is unequal: that is to say, the first volume is cruelly cut, but the second is fine and tall. It is in blue morocco binding. I must however add, in this biblical department, that they possess a copy of our Walton's Polyglott with the original dedication to King Charles II.; of the extreme rarity of which M. Le Bret was ignorant.[8]

I now come to the CLASSICS. Of course the two Virgils of 1471 were the first objects of my examination. The Roman edition was badly bound in red morocco; that of Adam was in its original binding of wood. When I opened the latter, it was impossible to conceal my gratification. I turned to M. Le Bret, and then to the book—and to the Head Librarian, and to the book—again and again! "How now, Mons. Le Bibliographe?" (exclaimed the professor—for M. Le Bret is a Professor of belles-lettres), "I observe that you are perfectly enchanted with what is before you?" There was no denying the truth of the remark—and I could plainly discern that the worthy Head Librarian was secretly enjoying the attestations of my transport. "The more I look at these two volumes (replied I, very leisurely and gravely,) the more I am persuaded that they will become the property of Earl Spencer." M. Le Bret laughed aloud at the strangeness of this reply. I proceeded to take a particular account of them.[9]

Here is an imperfect copy of an edition of Terence, by Reisinger, in folio; having only 130 leaves, and twenty-two lines in a full page.[10] It is the first copy of this edition which I ever saw; and I am much deceived if it be exceeded by any edition of the same author in rarity: and when I say this, I am not unmindful of the Editio Princeps of it by Mentelin—which happens not to be here. There is, however, a beautifully white copy of this latter printer's Editio Princeps of Valerius Maximus; but not so tall as the largest of the two copies of this same edition which I saw at Strasbourg. Of the Offices of Cicero, of 1466, there is rather a fine tall copy (within a quarter of an inch of ten inches high) UPON VELLUM; in the original wooden binding. The first two or three leaves have undergone a little martyrdom, by being scribbled upon. Of J. de Spira's edition of the Epistles of Cicero, of 1469—having the colophon on the recto of the last leaf—here is a fine, broad-margined copy, which however ought to be cleansed from the stains which disfigure it. I was grieved to see so indifferent a copy of the Edit. Prin. of Tacitus: but rejoiced at beholding so large and beautiful a one (in its original wooden binding) of the Lucan of 1475, with the Commentary of Omnibonus; printed as I conceive, by I. de Colonia and M. de Gherretzem.[11]

But I had nearly forgotten to acquaint you with a remarkably fine, thick-leaved, crackling copy—yet perhaps somewhat cropt—of Cardinal Bessarion's Epistles, printed by Sweynheym and Pannartz at Rome in 1469. It is in old gilt edges, in a sort of binding of wood.

I now come to the notice of a few choice and rare Italian books: and first, for Dante. Here is probably the rarest of all the earlier editions of this poet: that is to say, the edition printed at Naples by Tuppo, in two columns, having forty-two lines in a full column. At the end of the Inferno, we read "Gloria in excelsis Deo," in the gothic letter; the text being uniformly roman. At the end of the Purgatorio:

SOLI DEO GLORIA. Erubescat Judeus Infelir.

At the end of the Paradiso: DEO GRATIAS—followed by Tuppo's address to Honofrius Carazolus of Naples. A register is on the recto of the following and last leaf. This copy is large, but in a dreadfully loose, shattered, and dingy state—in the original wooden binding. So precious an edition should be instantly rebound. Here is the Dante of 1478, with the Commentary of Guido Terzago, printed at Milan in 1478, folio. The text of the poet is in a fine, round, and legible roman type—that of the commentator, in a small and disagreeable gothic character.

Petrarch shall follow. The rarest edition of him, which I have been able to put my hand upon, is that printed at Bologna in 1476 with the commentary of Franciscus Philelphus. Each sonnet is followed by its particular comment. The type is a small roman, not very unlike the smallest of Ulric Han, or Reisinger's usual type, and a full page-contains forty-one lines.

Of Boccaccio, here is nothing which I could observe particularly worthy of description, save the very rare edition of the Nimphale of 1477, printed by Bruno Valla of Piedmont, and Thomaso of Alexandria. A full page has thirty-two lines.

I shall conclude the account of the rarer books, which it was my chance to examine in the Public Library of Stuttgart, with what ought perhaps, more correctly, to have formed the earliest articles in this partial catalogue:—I mean, the Block Books. Here is a remarkably beautiful, and uncoloured copy of the first Latin edition of the Speculum Humanae Salvationis. It has been bound—although it be now unbound, and has been unmercifully cut. As far as I can trust to my memory, the impressions of the cuts in this copy are sharper and clearer than any which I have seen. Of the Apocalypse, there is a copy of the second edition, wanting a leaf. It is sound and clean, but coloured and cut. Unbound, but formerly bound. Here is a late German edition of the Ars Moriendi, having thirty-four lines on the first page. Of the Historia Beatae Virginis, here is a copy of what I should consider to be the second Latin edition; precisely like a German edition of the Biblia Pauperum, with the express date of 1470,—which is also here. The similarity is in the style of art and character of the type, which latter has much of a Bamberg cast about it. But of the Latin Biblia Pauperum here is a copy of the first edition, very imperfect, and in wretched condition. And thus much, or rather thus little, for Block Books.

A word or two now for the MANUSCRIPTS—which, indeed, according to the order usually observed in these Letters, should have preceded the description of the printed books. I will begin with a Psalter, in small folio, which I should have almost the hardihood to pronounce of the tenth—but certainly of the early part of the eleventh—century. The text is executed in lower-case roman letters, large and round. It abounds with illuminations, of about two inches in height, and six in length—running horizontally, and embedded as it were in the text. The figures are, therefore, necessarily small. Most of these illuminations, have a greenish back-ground. The armour is generally in the Roman fashion: the helmets being of a low conical form, and the shields having a large knob in the centre.

Next comes an Evangelistarium "seculo undecimo aut circa annum 1100:—pertinuit ad Monasterium Gengensbachense in Germania, ut legitur in margine primi folii." The preceding memorandum is written at the beginning of the volume, but the inscription to which it alludes has been partly destroyed—owing to the tools of a modern book-binder. The scription of this old MS. is in a thick, lower case, roman letter. The illuminations are interesting: especially that of the Scribe, at the beginning, who is represented in a white and delicately ornamented gown, or roquelaure, with gold, red, and blue borders, and a broad black border at bottom. The robe should seem to be a monastic garment: but the figure is probably that of St. Jerom. It is standing before an opened book. The head is shaved at top; an azure glory is round the head. The back-ground of the whole is gold, with an arabesque border. I wish I could have spared time to make a facsimile of it. There are also figures of the four Evangelists, in the usual style of art of this period; the whole in fine preservation. The capital initials are capricious, but tasteful. We observe birds, beasts, dragons, &c. coiled up in a variety of whimsical forms. The L. at the beginning of the "Liber Generationis," is, as usual in highly executed works of art of this period, peculiarly elaborate and striking.

A Psalter, of probably a century later, next claims our attention. It is a small folio, executed in a large, bold, gothic character. The illuminations are entirely confined to the capital initials, which represent some very grotesque, and yet picturesque grouping of animals and human figures—all in a state of perfect preservation. The gold back-grounds are not much raised, but of a beautiful lustre. It is apparently imperfect at the end. The binding merits distinct notice. In the centre of one of the outside covers, is a figure of the Almighty, sitting; in that of the other, are the Virgin and Infant Christ, also sitting. Each subject is an illumination of the time of those in the volume itself; and each is surrounded by pencil-coloured ornaments, divided into squares, by pieces of tin, or lead soldered. A sheet of horn is placed over the whole of the exterior cover, to protect it from injury. This binding is uncommon, but I should apprehend it to be not earlier than the very commencement of the xvth century.

I have not yet travelled out of the twelfth century; and mean to give you some account of rather a splendid and precious MS. entitled Vitae Sanctorum—supposed to be of the same period. It is said to have been executed under the auspices of the Emperor Conrad, who was chosen in 1169 and died in 1193. It is an elegant folio volume. The illuminations are in outline; in red, brown, or blue—firmly and truly touched, with very fanciful inventions in the forms of the capital letters. The initial letter prefixed to the account of the Assumption of the Virgin, is abundantly clever and whimsical; while that prefixed to the Life of St. Aurelius has even an imposing air of magnificence, and is the most important in the volume.

Here is a curious History of the Bible, in German verse, as I learn, by Rudolph, Count of Hohen Embs. Whether "curious" or not, I cannot tell; but I can affirm that, since opening the famous MS. of the Roman d'Alexandre,[12] at Oxford, I have not met with a finer, or more genuine MS. than the present. It is a noble folio volume; highly, although in many places coarsely, adorned. The text is executed in a square, stiff, German letter, in double columns; and the work was written (as M. Le Bret informed me, and as warranted by the contents) "in obedience to the orders of the Emperor Conrad, son of the Emperor Frederick II: the greater part of it being composed after the chronicle of Geoffrey de Viterbe." To specify the illuminations would be an endless task. At the end of the MS. are the following colophonic verses:

Uf den fridag was sts Brictius Do nam diz buch ende alsus Nach godis geburten dusint jar Dar su ccc dni vnx achtzig als eyn har.

the "ccc" are interlined, in red ink: but the whole inscription implies that the book was finished in 1381, on Friday, the day of St. Brictius. It follows therefore that it could not have been written during the life-time of Conrad IV. who was elected Emperor in 1250. This interesting MS. is in a most desirable condition.

There are two or three Missals deserving only of brief notice. One, of the XIVth century, is executed in large gothic letter; having an exceedingly vivid and fresh illumination of a crucifixion, but in bad taste, opposite the well-known passage of "Te igitur clementissime," &c. It is bound in red satin. Two missals of the xvth century—of which one presents only a few interesting prints connected with art. It is ornamented in a sort of bistre outline, preparatory to colouring—of which numerous examples may be seen in the Breviary of the Duke of Bedford in the Royal Library at Paris.[13] I examined half a dozen more Missals, which the kind activity of M. Le Bret had placed before me, and among them found nothing deserving of particular observation,—except a thick, short, octavo volume, in the German language, with characteristic and rather clever embellishments; especially in the borders.

There is a folio volume entitled "La Vie, Mort, et Miracles de St. Jerome." The first large illumination, which is prettily composed, is unluckily much injured in some parts. It represents the author kneeling, with his cap in his right hand, and a book bound in black, with gold clasps and knobs, in the other. A lady appears to receive this presentation-volume very graciously; but unfortunately her countenance is obliterated. Two female attendants are behind her: the whole, gracefully composed. I take this MS. to be of the end of the xvth. century. There is a most desirable MS. of the Roman de la Rose—of the end of the xivth century; in double columns; with some of the illuminations, about two inches square, very sweet and interesting. That, on the recto of folio xiiij, is quite charming. The "testament" of the author, J. de Meun, follows; quietly decorated, within flowered borders. The last illumination but one, of our Saviour, sitting upon a rainbow is very singular. This MS. is in its old binding of wood.

A few miscellaneous articles may be here briefly noticed. First: a German metrical version of the Game of Chess, moralized, called Der Schachzabel. This is an extraordinary, and highly illuminated MS. upon paper; written in a sort of secretary gothic hand, in short rhyming verse, as I conceive about the year 1400, or 1450. The embellishments are large and droll, and in several of them we distinguish that thick, and shining, but cracked coat of paint which is upon the old print of St. Bridget, in Lord Spencer's collection.[14] Among the more striking illuminations is the Knight on horseback, in silver armour, about nine inches high—a fine showy fellow! His horse has silver plates over his head. Many of the pieces in the game are represented in a highly interesting manner, and the whole is invaluable to the antiquary. This MS. is in boards. Second: a German version of Maundeville, of the date of 1471, with curious, large, and grotesque illuminations, of the coarsest execution. It is written in double columns, in a secretary gothic hand, upon paper. The heads of the Polypheme tribe are ludicrously horrible. Third:—Herren Duke of Brunswick, or the Chevalier au Lion,—a MS. relating to this hero, of the date of 1470. A lion accompanies him every where. Among the embellishments, there is a good one of this animal leaping upon a tomb and licking it—as containing the mortal remains of his master. Fourth: a series of German stanzas, sung by birds, each bird being represented, in outline, before the stanza appropriated to it. In the whole, only three leaves.

The "last and not least" of the MSS. which I deem it worthy to mention, is an highly illuminated one of St. Austin upon the Psalms. This was the first book which I remembered to have seen, upon the continent, from the library of the famous Corvinus King of Hungary, about which certain pages have discoursed largely. It was also an absolutely beautiful book: exhibiting one of the finest specimens of art of the latter end of the XVth century. The commentary of the Saint begins on the recto of the second leaf, within such a rich, lovely, and exquisitely executed border—as almost made me forget the embellishments in the Sforziada in the Royal Library of France.[15] The border in question is a union of pearls and arabesque ornaments quite standing out of the background ... which latter has the effect of velvet. The arms, below, are within a double border of pearls, each pair of pearls being within a gold circle upon an ultramarine ground. The heads and figures have not escaped injury, but other portions of this magical illumination have been rubbed or partly obliterated.

A ms. note, prefixed by M. Le Bret, informs us, in the opinion of its writer, that this illumination was the work of one "Actavantes de Actavantibus of Florence,—who lived towards the end of the XVth century," and who really seems to have done a great deal for Corvinus. The initial letters, throughout this volume, delicately cross-barred in gold, with little flowers and arabesques, &c. precisely resemble those in the MS. of Mr. Hibbert.[16] Such a white, snowy page, as the one just in part described, can scarcely be imagined by the uninitiated in ancient illuminated MSS. The binding, in boards covered with leather, has the original ornaments, of the time of Corvinus, which are now much faded. The fore-edges of the leaves preserve their former gilt-stamped ornaments. Upon the whole—an ALMOST MATCHLESS book!

Such, my good friend, are the treasures, both in MS. and in print, which a couple of morning's application, in the Public Library of Stuttgart, have enabled me to bring forward for your notice. A word or two, now, for the treasures of the ROYAL LIBRARY, and then for a little respite. The Library of his Majesty is in one of the side wings, or rather appurtenances, of the Palace: to the right, on looking at the front. It is on the first floor—where all libraries should be placed—and consists of a circular and a parallelogram-shaped room: divided by a screen of Ionic pillars. A similar screen is also at the further end of the latter room. The circular apartment has a very elegant appearance, and contains some beautiful books chiefly of modern art. A round table is in the centre, covered with fine cloth, and the sides and pillars of the screen are painted wholly in white—as well as the room connected with it. A gallery goes along the latter, or parallelogram-shaped apartment; and there are, in the centre, two rows of book-cases, very tall, and completely filled with books. These, as well as the book-cases along the sides, are painted white. An elaborately painted ceiling, chiefly composed of human figures, forms the graphic ornament of the long library; but, unluckily, the central book-cases are so high as to cover a great portion of the painting—viewed almost in any direction. At the further end of the long library, facing the circular extremity, is a bust of the late King of Wuertemberg, by Dannecker. It bears so strong a resemblance to that of our own venerable monarch, that I had considered it to be a representation of him—out of compliment to the Dowager Queen of Wuertemberg, his daughter. The ceiling of this Library is undoubtedly too low for its length. But the circular extremity has something in it exceedingly attractive, and inviting to study.

In noticing some of the contents of this Library, I shall correct the error committed in the account of the Public Library, by commencing here with the MANUSCRIPTS in preference to the Printed Books. The MSS. are by no means numerous, and are perhaps rather curious than intrinsically valuable. I shall begin with an account of a Prayer-Book, or Psalter, in a quarto form, undoubtedly of the latter end of the XIIth century. Its state of preservation, both for illumination and scription, is quite exquisite. It appears to have been expressly executed for Herman, and Sophia his wife, King and Queen of Hungary and Bohemia—who lived at the latter end of the twelfth century. The names of these royal patrons and owners of, the volume are introduced at the end of the volume, in a sort of litany: accompanied with embellishments of the Mother of Christ, Saints and Martyrs, &c.: as thus: "Sophia Regina Vngariae, Regina Bohemiae"—"Herman Lantgrauius Turingie, Rex Vngariae, Rex Bohemiae." In the Litany, we read (of the latter) in the address to the Deity, "Vt famulu tuu HERMANNV in tua misericordia confidente, confortare et regere dignter:" so that there is no doubt about the age of the MS. In the representations of the episcopal dresses, the tops of the mitres are depressed—another confirmation of the date of the book.

The initial letters, and especially the B before the Psalms, are at once elegant and elaborate. Among the subjects described, the Descent into Hell, or rather the Place of Torment, is singularly striking and extraordinary. The text of the MS. is written in a large bold gothic letter. This volume has been recently bound in red morocco, and cruelly cut in the binding.

Of course, here are some specimens of illuminated Hours, both in manuscript and print. In the former, I must make you acquainted with a truly beautiful volume; upon the fly leaf of which we read as follows: "I 3 F, RT, lo Fortitudo Eius Rhodum tenuit Amadeus Graff^{9} Sauoia." Below, "Biblioth: Sem: Mergenth:" then, a long German note, of which I understood not one word, and as M. Le Bret was not near me, I could not obtain the solution of it. But although I do not understand one word of this note, I do understand that this is one of the very prettiest, and most singularly illuminated Missals, which any library can possess: broad margins: vellum, white as snow in colour, and soft as that of Venice in touch! The text is written in a tall, close, gothic character—between, as I should conceive, the years 1460 and 1480. The drolleries are delightfully introduced and executed. The initial letters are large and singular; the subject being executed within compartments of gothic architecture. The figures, of which these subjects are composed, are very small; generally darkly shaded, and highly relieved. They are numerous. Of these initial letters, the fifth to the ninth, inclusively, are striking: the sixth being the most curious, and the ninth the most elaborate. The binding of this volume seems to be of the sixteenth century. This is as it should be.

But, more precious than either, or than both, or than three times as many of the preceding illuminated volumes—in the estimation of our friend * * * would be a MS. of which the title runs thus: "Libri Duo de Vita S. WILLIBROORDI Archiepiscopi autore humili de vita ALCUINI cum prefat. ad Beonradum Archiepiscopum. Liber secundus metrice scriptus est."[17] Then an old inscription, thus: "Althwinus de vita Willibrordi Epi." There can be no doubt of this MS. being at least as old as the eleventh century.

The PRINTED BOOKS—at least the account of such as seemed to demand a more particular examination, will not occupy a very great share of your attention. I will begin with a pretty little VELLUM COPY of the well-known Hortulus Animae, of the date of 1498, in 12mo., printed by Wilhelmus Schaffener de Ropperswiler, at Strasbourg. The vellum is excellent; and the wood cuts, rather plentifully sprinkled through the volume, happen fortunately to be well-coloured. This copy appears to have come from the "Weingarth Monastery", with the date of 1617 upon it—as that of its having been then purchased for the monastery. It is in its original wooden binding: wanting repair. Here are a few Roman Classics, which are more choice than those in the Public Library: as Reisinger's Suetonius, in 4to. but cropt, and half bound in red morocco, with yellow sprinkled edges to the leaves—a woful specimen of the general style of binding in this library. Lucretius, 1486: Manilius, 1474: both in one volume, bound in wood—and sound and desirable copies. Eutropius, 1471; by Laver; a sound, desirable copy, in genuine condition. Of Bibles, here is the Greek Aldine folio of 1518, in frightful half binding, cropt to the quick: also an Hungarian impression of the two Books of Samuel and of Kings, of 1565, in folio—beginning: AZ KET SAMVEL: colophon: Debreczenbe, &c. MDLXV: in wretched half binding. The small paper of the Latin Bibles of 1592, 1603. And of Greek Testaments here are the first, second, fourth and fifth editions of Erasmus; the first, containing both parts, is in one volume, in original boards, or binding; a sound and clean copy: written upon, but not in a very unpicturesque manner. The second edition is but an indifferent copy.

The following may be considered Miscellaneous Articles. I will begin with the earliest. St. Austin de Singularitate Clericorum, printed in a small quarto volume by Ulric Zel, in 1467: a good, sound, but cropt copy, along with some opuscula of Gerson and Chrysostom, also printed by Zel: these, from the Schoenthal monastery. At the end of this dull collection of old theology, are a few ms. opuscula, and among them one of the Gesta Romanorum: I should think of the fourteenth century. The Wurtzburg Synod, supposed to be printed by Reyser, towards the end of the fifteenth century; and of which there is a copy in the Public Library, as well as another in that of Strasbourg. To the antiquary, this may be a curious book. I mention it again,[18] in order to notice the name and seal of "Iohannes Fabri,—clericus Maguntin diocesz publicus imperiali auctoritate notarius, &c. Scriba iuratus"—which occur at about one fourth part of the work: as I am desirous of knowing whether this man be the same, or related to the, printer so called, who published the Ethics of Cato in 1477?—of which book I omitted to mention a copy in the Public Library here.[19] Bound up with this volume is Fyner's edition of P. Niger contra perfidos Iudaeos, 1475, folio. Fyner lived at Eislingen, in the neighbourhood of this place, and it is natural to find specimens of his press here. The Stella Meschiah of 1477, is here cruelly cropt, and bound in the usually barbarous manner, with a mustard-coloured sprinkling upon the edges of the leaves. Historie von der Melusina: a singular volume, in the German language, printed without date, in a thin folio. It is a book perfectly a la Douce; full of whimsical and interesting wood cuts, which I do not remember to have seen in any other ancient volume. From the conclusion of the text, it appears to have been composed or finished in 1446, but I suspect the date of its typographical execution to be that of 1480 at the earliest.

I looked about sharply for fine, old, mellow-tinted Alduses:—but to no purpose. Yet I must notice a pretty little Aldine Petrarch of 1521, 12mo. bound with Sannazarius de partu Virginis, by the same printer, in 1527, 12mo.: in old stamped binding—but somewhat cropt. The leaves of both copies crackle lustily on turning them over. These, also, from the Weingarth monastery. I noticed a beautiful little Petrarch of 1546, 8vo. with the commentary of Velutellus; having a striking device of Neptune in the frontispiece: but no membranaceous articles, of this character and period, came across my survey.

I cannot, however, take leave of the Royal Library (a collection which I should think must contain 15,000 volumes) without expressing my obligations for the unrestricted privilege of examination afforded me by those who had the superintendance of it. But I begin to be wearied, and it is growing late. The account of the "court-levee," and the winding up of other Stuttgart matters, must be reserved for to-morrow. The watchman has just commenced his rounds, by announcing, as usual, the hour of ten—which announce is succeeded by a long (and as I learn metrical) exhortation—for the good folks of Stuttgart to take care of their fires and candles. I obey his injunctions; and say good night.

[1] See vol. ii. p. 421.

[2] [Of this PORTRAIT, which may be truly said to enrich the pages of the previous edition of the Tour, a more liberal use has been made than I was prepared to grant. My worthy friends, Messrs. Treuttel, Wuertz, and Richter were welcome to its republication; but a third edition of it, by another hand, ought not to have been published without permission. The ORIGINAL of this Portrait has ceased to exist. After a laborious life of fourscore years, the learned Schweighaeuser has departed—in the fullest maturity of reputation arising from classical attainments; to which must be added, all the excellences of a mild, affable, christian-like disposition. As a husband, a father, and a friend, none went before him: no one displayed these domestic virtues in a more perfect and more pleasing form. As a Greek Scholar and Commentator, he may be said to rank with Hemsterhusius, Wyttenbach, and Heyne. He was equally the boast of Strasbourg and the glory of his age. Never was profound learning more successfully united with "singleness of heart," and general simplicity of character. He ought to have a splendid monument (if he have it not already?) among his Fellow Worthies in the church of St. Thomas at Strasbourg. PEACE TO HIS ASHES!]

[3] For the first time, my bill (which I invariably called for, and settled, every day) was presented to me in a printed form, in the black letter, within an ornamented border. It was entitled Rechnung von Gottlob Ernst Teichmann, zum Waldhorn in Stuttgart. The printed articles, against which blanks are left, to be filled up according to the quantity and quality of the fare, were these: Fruhstuck, Mittag-Essen, Nacht Essen, Fremder Wein, Ordinarier Wein, Verschiedenes, Logis, Feuerung, Bediente. I must be allowed to add, that the head waiter of the Waldhorn, or Hunting Horn, was one of the most respectably looking, and well-mannered, of his species. He spoke French fluently, but with the usual German accent. The master of the inn was coarse and bluff, but bustling and civil. He frequently devoted one of the best rooms in his house to large, roaring, singing, parties—in which he took a decided lead, and kept it up till past midnight.

[4] [The late Duchess of OLDENBURG.]

[5] See vol. ii. p. 356.

[6] [This Public Library is now pulled down, and another erected on the site of it.]

[7] In one of these copies is an undoubtedly coeval memorandum in red ink, thus: "Explicit liber iste Anno domini Millesio quadringentissimo sexagesimosexto (1466) format^{9} arte impssoria p venerabilem viru Johane mentell in argentina," &c. I should add, that, previously to the words "sexagesimosexto" were those of "quiquagesimosexto"—which have been erased by the pen of the Scribe; but not so entirely as to be illegible. I am indebted to M. Le Bret for the information that this Bible by Mentelin is more ancient than the one, without date or place, &c. (see Bibl. Spencer, vol. i. p. 42, &c.) which has been usually considered to be anterior to it. M. Le Bret draws this conclusion from the comparative antiquity of the language of Mentelin's edition.

[8] This was the second copy, with the same original piece, which I had seen abroad; that in the Library of the Arsenal at Paris being the first. I have omitted to notice this, in my account of that Library, vol. ii. p. 156-7, &c.

[9] [Both volumes will be found particularly described in the AEdes Althorpianae, vol. ii. p. 285-290.]

[10] Lord Spencer has recently obtained a PERFECT COPY of this most rare edition—by the purchase of the library of the Duke di Cassano, at Naples. See the Cassano Catalogue, p. 116.

[11] A very particular description of this rare edition will be found in the Bibl. Spencer, vol. ii. p. 141.

[12] See the Bibliographical Decameron, vol. i. p. cxcviii.

[13] See vol. ii. p. 73.

[14] See Ottley's History of Engraving, vol. i. p. 86; where a fac-simile of this cut is given—which, in the large paper copies, is coloured.

[15] See vol. ii. p. 134-5.

[16] The SFORZIADA: See the Catalogue of his Library, no. 7559.

[17] The prologue of this metrical life begins thus:

Ecce tuis parui uotis uenerande sacerdos Cor quia de vro feruet amore mihi Pontificis magna wilbroodi et psulis almus Recurrens titulis inclyta gesta tuis Sit lux inferior strepitant cum murmure rauco illius egregi^{9} sermo meus meritis

This life consists of only 11 leaves, having 23 verses in a full page. It is printed in the Lect. Antiq. of Canisius, vol. ii. p. 463; and the prose life is printed by Surius and by Mabillon.

[18] Before described in the Bibl. Spenceriana; vol. IV. p. 508.

[19] The book in question has the following colophon:

Hoc opus exiguum perfecit rite iohannes Fabri: cui seruat lingonis alta lares. Ac uoluit formis ipsum fecisse casellis. M.cccc.lxxcii de mense maii.

The s is very singular, being smaller than the other letters, and having a broken effect. This copy, in the Public Library at Stuttgart, is not bound, but in excellent condition.



The morrow is come; and as the morning is too rainy to stir abroad, I sit down to fulfil the promise of last night. This will be done with the greater cheerfulness and alacrity, as the evenings have been comparatively cooler, and my slumbers, in consequence, more sound and refreshing. M. LE BRET—must be the first name mentioned upon this occasion. In other words, the negotiation about the two Virgils, through the zeal and good management of that active Head-Librarian, began quickly to assume a most decided form; and I received an intimation from Mr. Hamilton, our Charge d'Affaires, that the King expected to see me upon the subject at the "circle"—last Sunday evening.

But before you go with me to court, I must make you acquainted with the place in which the Court is held: in other words, with the ROYAL PALACE of STUTTGART. Take away the gilt cushion and crown at the top of it, and the front facade has really the air of a royal residence. It is built of stone: massive and unpretending in its external decorations, and has two wings running at right angles with the principal front elevation. To my eye, it had, at first view, and still continues to have, more of a Palace-like look than the long but slender structure of the Tuilleries. To the left, on looking at it—or rather behind the left wing is a large, well-trimmed flower-garden, terminating in walks, and a carriage way. Just in front of this garden, before a large bason of water, and fixed upon a sort of parapet wall—is a very pleasing, colossal group of two female statues—Pomona and Flora, as I conceive—sculptured by Dannecker. Their forms are made to intertwine very gracefully; and they are cut in a coarse, but hard and pleasingly-tinted, stone. For out-of-door figures, they are much superior to the generality of unmeaning allegorical marble statues in the gardens of the Thuilleries.

The interior of the palace has portions, which may be said to verify what we have read, in boyish days, of the wonder-working powers of the lamp of Aladdin. Here are porphyry and granite, and rosewood, and satin-wood, porcelaine, and or-molu ornaments, in all their varieties of unsullied splendor. A magnificent vestibule, and marble staircase; a concert room; an assembly-room; and chamber of audience: each particularly brilliant and appropriate; while, in the latter, you observe a throne, or chair of state, of antique form, but entirely covered with curious gilt carvings—rich, without being gaudy—and striking without being misplaced. You pass on—room after room—from the ceilings of which, lustres of increasing brilliance depend; but are not disposed to make any halt till you enter a small apartment with a cupola roof—within a niche of which stands the small statue of Cupid; with his head inclined, and one hand raised to feel the supposed-blunted point of a dart which he holds in the other. This is called the Cupid-Room, out of compliment to DANNECKER the sculptor of the figure, who is much patronised by the Queen. A statue or two by Canova, with a tolerable portion of Gobeleine tapestry, form the principal remaining moveable pieces of furniture. A minuter description may not be necessary: the interiors of all palaces being pretty much alike—if we put pictures and statues out of the question.

From the Palace, I must now conduct you to the "circle" or Drawing Room—which I attended. Mr. Hamilton was so obliging as to convey me thither. The King paid his respects personally to each lady, and was followed by the Queen. The same order was observed with the circle of gentlemen. His Majesty was dressed in what seemed to be an English uniform, and wore the star of the Order of the Bath. His figure is perhaps under the middle size, but compact, well formed, and having a gentlemanly deportment. The Queen was, questionless, the most interesting female in the circle. To an Englishman, her long and popular residence in England, rendered her doubly an object of attraction. She was superbly dressed, and yet the whole had a simple, lady-like, appearance. She wore a magnificent tiara of diamonds, and large circular diamond ear rings: but it was her necklace, composed of the largest and choicest of the same kind of precious stones, which flashed a radiance on the eyes of the beholder, that could scarcely be exceeded even in the court-circles of St. Petersburg. Her hair was quietly and most becomingly dressed; and with a small white fan in her hand, which she occasionally opened and shut, she saluted, and discoursed with, each visitor, as gracefully and as naturally as if she had been accustomed to the ceremony from her earliest youth. Her dark eyes surveyed each figure, quickly, from head to foot—while ...

"Favours to none, to all she smiles extends."

Among the gentlemen, I observed a young man of a very prepossessing form and manners—having seven orders, or marks of distinction hanging from his button-holes. Every body seemed anxious to exchange a word with him; and he might be at farthest in his thirtieth year. I could not learn his name, but I learnt that his character was quite in harmony with his person: that he was gay, brave, courteous and polite: that his courage knew no bounds: that he would storm a citadel, traverse a morass, or lead on to a charge, with equal coolness, courage, and intrepidity: that repose and inaction were painful to him—but that humanity to the unfortunate, and the most inflexible attachment to relations and friends, formed, equally, distinctive marks of his character. This intelligence quite won my heart in favour of the stranger, then standing and smiling immediately before me; and I rejoiced that the chivalrous race of the Peterboroughs was not yet extinct, but had taken root, and "borne branch and flower," in the soil of Suabia.

When it came to my turn to be addressed, the king at once asked—"if I had not been much gratified with the books in the Public Library, and particularly with two ancient editions of Virgil?" I merely indicated an assent to the truth of this remark, waiting for the conclusion to be drawn from the premises. "There has been some mention made to me (resumed his Majesty) about a proposed exchange on the part of Lord Spencer, for these two ancient editions, which appear to be wanting in his Lordship's magnificent collection. For my part, I see no objection to the final arrangement of this business—if it can be settled upon terms satisfactory to all parties." This was the very point to which I was so anxious to bring the conference. I replied, coolly and unhesitatingly, "that it was precisely as his Majesty had observed; that his own Collection was strong in Bibles, but comparatively weak in Ancient Classics: and that a diminution of the latter would not be of material consequence, if, in lieu of it, there could be an increase of the former—so as to carry it well nigh towards perfection; that, in whatever way this exchange was effected, whether by money, or by books, in the first instance, it would doubtless be his Majesty's desire to direct the application of the one or the other to the completion of his Theological Collection."

The King replied "he saw no objection whatever to the proposed exchange—and left the forms of carrying it into execution with his head librarian M. Le Bret." Having gained my point, it only remained to make my bow. The King then passed on to the remainder of the circle, and was quickly followed by the Queen. I heard her Majesty distinctly tell General Allan,[20] in the English language, that "she could never forget her reception in England; that the days spent there were among the happiest of her life, and that she hoped, before she died, again to visit our country." She even expressed "gratitude for the cordial manner in which she had been received, and, entertained in it."[21]

The heat had now become almost insupportable; as, for the reason before assigned, every window and door was shut. However, this inconvenience, if it was severe, was luckily of short duration. A little after nine, their Majesties retired towards the door by which they had entered: and which, as it was reopened, presented, in the background, the attendants waiting to receive them. The King and Queen then saluted the circle, and retired. In ten minutes we had all retreated, and were breathing the pure air of heaven. I preferred walking home, and called upon M. Le Bret in my way. It was about half past nine only, but that philosophical bibliographer was about retiring to rest. He received me, however, with a joyous welcome: re-trimmed his lamp; complimented me upon the success of the negotiation, and told me that I might now depart in peace from Stuttgart—for that "the affair might be considered as settled."[22]

I have mentioned to you, more than once, the name of DANNECKER the sculptor. It has been my good fortune to visit him, and to converse with him much at large, several times. He is one of the most unaffected of the living Phidias-tribe; resembling much, both in figure and conversation, and more especially in a pleasing simplicity of manners, our celebrated Chantry. Indeed I should call Dannecker, on the score of art as well as of person, rather the Chantry than the Flaxman or Canova of Suabia. He shewed me every part of his study; and every cast of such originals as he had executed, or which he had it in contemplation to execute. Of those that had left him, I was compelled to be satisfied with the plaster of his famous ARIADNE, reclining upon the back of a passant leopard, each of the size of life. The original belongs to a banker at Frankfort, for whom it was executed for the sum of about one thousand pounds sterling. It must be an exquisite production; for if the plaster be thus interesting what must be the effect of the marble? Dannecker told me that the most difficult parts of the group, as to detail, were the interior of the leopard's feet, and the foot and retired drapery of the female figure—which has one leg tucked under the other. The whole composition has an harmonious, joyous effect; while health, animation, and beauty breathe in every limb and lineament of Ariadne.

But it was my good fortune to witness one original of Dannecker's chisel—of transcendent merit. I mean, the colossal head of SCHILLER; who was the intimate friend, and a townsman of this able sculptor. I never stood before so expressive a modern countenance. The forehead is high and wide, and the projections, over the eye-brows, are boldly, but finely and gradually, marked. The eye is rather full, but retired. The cheeks are considerably shrunk. The mouth is full of expression, and the chin somewhat elongated. The hair flows behind in a broad mass, and ends in a wavy curl upon the shoulders: not very unlike the professional wigs of the French barristers which I had seen at Paris. Upon the whole, I prefer this latter—for breadth and harmony—to the eternal conceit of the wig a la grecque. "It was so (said Dannecker) that Schiller wore his hair; and it was precisely with this physiognomical expression that he came out to me, dressed en roquelaure, from his inner apartment, when I saw him for the last time. I thought to myself—on so seeing him—(added the sculptor) that it is thus that I will chisel your bust in marble." Dannecker then requested me to draw my hand gently over the forehead—and to observe by what careful, and almost imperceptible gradations, this boldness of front had been accomplished; I listened to every word that he said about the extraordinary character then, as it were, before me, with an earnestness and pleasure which I can hardly describe; and walked round and round the bust with a gratification approaching to ecstacy. They may say what they please—at Rome or at London—but a finer specimen of art, in its very highest department, and of its particular kind, the chisel of no living Sculptor hath achieved. As a bust, it is perfect. It is the MAN; with all his MIND in his countenance; without the introduction of any sickly airs and graces, which are frequently the result of a predetermination to treat it—as Phidias or Praxiteles would have treated it! It is worth a host of such figures as that of Marshal Saxe at Strasbourg.

"Would any sum induce you to part with it?"—said I, in an under tone, to the unsuspecting artist ... bethinking me, at the same time, of offering somewhere about 250 louis d'or—"None:" replied Dannecker. "I loved the original too dearly to part with this copy of his countenance, in which I have done my utmost to render it worthy of my incomparable friend." I think the artist said that the Queen had expressed a wish to possess it; but he was compelled to adhere religiously to his determination of keeping it for himself. Dannecker shewed me a plaster cast of his intended figure of CHRIST. It struck me as being of great simplicity of breadth, and majesty of expression; but perhaps the form wanted fulness—and the drapery might be a little too sparing. I then saw several other busts, and subjects, which have already escaped my recollection; but I could not but be struck with the quiet and unaffected manner in which this meritorious artist mentioned the approbation bestowed by CANOVA upon several of his performances. He is very much superior indeed to Ohmacht; but comparisons have long been considered as uncourteous and invidious—and so I will only add, that, if ever Dannecker visits England—which he half threatens to do—he shall be feted by a Commoner, and patronised by a Duke. Meanwhile, you have here his Autograph for contemplation.

[20] Afterwards Sir Alexander Allan, Bart. I met him and Captain C * * *, of the Royal Navy, in their way to Inspruck. But Sir Alexander (than whom, I believe a worthier or a braver man never entered the profession of which he was so distinguished an ornament) scarcely survived the excursion two years.

[21] The Queen of Wuertemberg survived the levee, above described, only a few months. Her DEATH was in consequence of over-maternal anxiety about her children, who were ill with the measles. The queen was suddenly called from her bed on a cold night in the month of January to the chamber where her children were seriously indisposed. Forgetful of herself, of the hour, and of the season, she caught a severe cold: a violent erysipelatous affection, terminating in apoplexy, was the fatal result—and SHE, who, but a few short-lived months before, had shone as the brightest star in the hemisphere of her own court;—who was the patroness of art;—and of two or three national schools, building, when I was at Stuttgart, at her own expense—was doomed to become the subject of general lamentation and woe. She was admired, respected, and beloved. It was pleasing, as it was quite natural, to see her (as I had often done) and the King, riding out in the same carriage, or phaeton, without any royal guard; and all ranks of people heartily disposed to pay them the homage of their respect. In a letter from M. Le Bret, of the 8th of June 1819, I learnt that a magnificent chapel, built after the Grecian model, was to contain the monument to be erected to her memory. Her funeral was attended by six hundred students from Tubingen, by torch light.

[22] For the sake of juxta-position, I will here mention the SEQUEL, as briefly as may be. The "affair" was far from being at that time "settled." But, on reaching Manheim, about to recross the Rhine, on my return to Paris—I found a long and circumstantial letter from my bibliographical correspondent at Stuttgart, which seemed to bring the matter to a final and desirable issue. "So many thousand francs had been agreed upon—there only wanted a well bound copy of the Bibliographical Decameron to boot:—and the Virgils were to be considered as his Lordship's property." Mr. Hamilton, our Charge d'Affaires, had authority to pay the money—and I ... walked instantly to Artaria's—purchased a copy of the work in question, (which happened to be there, in blue morocco binding,) and desired my valet to get ready to start the next morning, by three or four o'clock, to travel post to Stuttgart: from whence he was not to return without bringing the VIRGILS, in the same carriage which would convey him and the Decameronic volumes. Charles Rohfritsch immediately prepared to set out on his journey. He left Manheim at three in the morning; travelled without intermission to Stuttgart,—perhaps fourscore or ninety miles from Manheim—put up at his old quarters zum Waldhorn (see p. 17, ante.) waited upon M. Le Bret with a letter, and the morocco tomes—RECEIVED THE VIRGILS—and prepared for his return to Manheim—which place he reached by two on the following morning. I had told him that, at whatever hour he arrived, he was to make his way to my chamber. He did as he was desired. "LES VOILA!"—exclaimed he, on placing the two volumes hastily upon the table.—"Ma foi, Monsieur, c'est ceci une drole d'affaire; il y a je ne scai pas combien de lieues que j'ai traverse pour deux anciens livres qui ne valent pas a mes yeux le tiers d'un Napoleon!" I readily forgave him all this saucy heresy—and almost hugged the volumes ... on finding them upon my table. They were my constant travelling companions through France to Calais; and when I shewed the Adam Virgil to M. Van Praet, at Paris—"Enfin (remarked he, as he turned over the broad-margined and loud-crackling leaves) voila un livre dont j'ai beaucoup entendu parler, mais que je n'ai jamais vu!" These words sounded as sweet melody to mine ears. But I will unfeignedly declare, that the joy which crowned the whole, was, when I delivered both the books ... into the hands of their present NOBLE OWNER: with whom they will doubtless find their FINAL RESTING PLACE. [Such was my bibliographical history—eleven years ago. Since that period NO copy of EITHER edition has found its way into England. "Terque quaterque beatus!"]



Augsbourg, Hotel des Trois Negres, Aug. 9, 1818.


I have indeed been an active, as well as fortunate traveller, since I last addressed you; and I sit down to compose rather a long despatch, which, upon the whole, will be probably interesting; and which, moreover, is penned in one of the noblest hotels in Europe. The more I see of Germany, the more I like it. Behold me, then in Bavaria; within one of its most beautiful cities, and looking, from my window, upon a street called Maximilian Street—which, for picturesque beauty, is exceeded only by the High-street at Oxford. A noble fountain of bronze figures in the centre of it, is sending forth its clear and agitated waters into the air—only to fall, in pellucid drops, into a basin of capacious dimensions: again to be carried upwards, and again to descend. 'Tis a magnificent fountain; and I wish such an one were in the centre of the street above mentioned, or in that of Waterloo Place. But to proceed with my Journal from Stuttgart.

I left that capital of the kingdom of Wuertemberg about five in the afternoon, accompanied by my excellent friend M. Le Bret, who took a seat in the carriage as far as the boundaries of the city.[23] His dry drollery, and frankness of communication, made me regret that he could not accompany us—at least as far as the first stage Plochingen;—especially as the weather was beautiful, and the road excellent. However, the novelty of each surrounding object—(but shall ... I whisper a secret in your ear?—the probably successful result of the negotiation about the two ancient editions of Virgil—yet more than each surrounding object) put me in perfect good humour, as we continued to roll pleasantly on towards our resting-place for the night—either Goeppingen, or Geislingen,—as time and inclination might serve. The sky was in a fine crimson glow with the approaching sun-set, which was reflected by a river of clear water, skirted in parts by poplar and birch, as we changed horses at Plochingen. It was, I think, that town, rather than Goeppingen, (the next stage) which struck us, en passant, to be singularly curious and picturesque on the score of antiquity and street scenery. It was with reluctance that I passed through it in so rapid a manner: but necessity alone was the excuse.

We slept, and slept comfortably, at Goeppingen. From thence to Geislingen are sweet views: in part luxuriant and cultivated, and in part bold and romantic. Here, were the humble and neatly-trimmed huts of cottagers; there, the lofty and castle-crowned domains of the Baron. It was all pleasing and heart-cheering; while the sky continued in one soft and silvery tint from the unusual transparency of the day. On entering Geislingen, our attention was quickly directed to other, and somewhat extraordinary, objects. In this town, there is a great manufactory of articles in ivory; and we had hardly stopped to change horses—in other words, the postilion had not yet dismounted—ere we were assailed by some half dozen ill-clad females, who crawled up the carriage, in all directions, with baskets of ivory toys in their hands, saluting us with loud screams and tones—which, of course, we understood to mean that their baskets might be lightened of their contents. Our valet here became the principal medium of explanation. Charles Rohfritsch raised himself up from his seat; extended, his hands, elevated his voice, stamped, seized upon one, and caught hold of another, assailant at the same time—threatening them with the vengeance of the police if they did not instantly desist from their rude assaults. It was indeed high time to be absolute; for Mr. Lewis was surrounded by two, and I was myself honoured by a visit of three, of this gipsy tribe of ivory-venders: who had crawled over the dicky, and up the hinder wheels, into the body of the carriage.

There seemed to be no alternative but to purchase something. We took two or three boxes, containing crucifixes, toothpicks, and apple-scoops; and set the best face we could upon this strange adventure. Meanwhile, fresh horses were put to; and the valet joked with the ivory venders—having desired the postilion, (as he afterwards informed me) as soon as he was mounted, to make some bold flourishes with his whip, to stick his spurs into the sides of his horses, and disentangle himself from the surrounding female throng as speedily as he could. The postilion did as he was commanded: and we darted off at almost a full gallop. A steep hill was before us, but the horses continued to keep their first pace, till a touch of humanity made our charioteer relax from his efforts. We had now left the town of Geislingen behind us, but yet saw the ivory venders pointing towards the route we had taken. "This has been a strange piece of business indeed, Sir," (observed the valet). "These women are a set of mad-caps; but they are nevertheless women of character. They always act thus: especially when they see that the visitors are English—for they are vastly fond of your countrymen!"

We were now within about twenty English miles of ULM. Nothing particular occurred, either by way of anecdote or of scenery, till within almost the immediate approach, or descent to that city—the last in the Suabian territories, and which is separated from Bavaria by the river Danube. I caught the first glance of that celebrated river (here of comparatively trifling width) with no ordinary emotions of delight. It recalled to my memory the battle of Blenheim, or of Hochstedt; for you know that it was across this very river, and scarcely a score of miles from Ulm, that the victorious MARLBOROUGH chased the flying French and Bavarians—at the battle just mentioned. At the same moment, almost, I could not fail to contrast this glorious issue with the miserable surrender of the town before me—then filled by a large and well-disciplined army, and commanded by that non-pareil of generals, J.G. MACK!—into the power of Bonaparte... almost without pulling a trigger on either side—the place itself being considered, at the time, one of the strongest towns in Europe. These things, I say, rushed upon my memory, when, on the immediate descent into Ulm, I caught the first view of the tower of the MINSTER ... which quickly put Marlborough, and Mack, and Bonaparte out of my recollection.

I had never, since quitting the beach at Brighton, beheld such an English-like looking cathedral—as a whole; and particularly the tower. It is broad, bold, and lofty; but, like all edifices, seen from a neighbouring and perhaps loftier height, it loses, at first view, very much of the loftiness of its character. However, I looked with admiration, and longed to approach it. This object was accomplished in twenty minutes. We entered Ulm about two o'clock: drove to an excellent inn (the White Stag—which I strongly recommend to all fellow-travellers) and ordered our dinner to be got ready by five; which, as the house was within a stone's cast of the cathedral, gave us every opportunity of visiting it before hand. The day continued most beautiful: and we sallied forth in high spirits, to gaze at and to admire every object of antiquity which should present itself.

You may remember my mentioning, towards the close of my last despatch, that a letter was lying upon the table, directed to one of the Professors of the University, or gymnase, of this place. The name of that Professor was VEESENMEYER; a very respectable, learned, and kind-hearted gentleman. I sought his house (close to the cathedral) the very first thing on quitting the hotel. The Professor was at home. On receiving my letter, by the hands of a pretty little girl, one of his daughters, M. Veesenmeyer made his appearance at the top of a short stair case, arrayed in a sort of woollen, quilted jacket, with a green cloth cap on, and a pipe in his mouth—which latter seemed to be full as tall as himself. I should think that the Professor could not be taller than his pipe, which might be somewhere about five feet in length. His figure had an exceedingly droll appearance. His mode of pronouncing French was somewhat germanized; but I strained every nerve to understand him, as my valet was not with me, and as there would have been no alternative but to have talked Latin. I was desirous of seeing the library, attached to the cathedral. "Could the Professor facilitate that object?" "Most willingly—" was his reply—"I will write a note to * * the librarian: carry it to him, and he will shew you the library directly, if he be at home." I did as he desired me; but found the number of the house very difficult to discover—as the houses are numbered, consecutively, throughout the town—down one street and up another: so that, without knowing the order of the streets through which the numbers run, it is hardly possible for a stranger to proceed.

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