A Bibliographical, Antiquarian and Picturesque Tour in France and Germany, Volume Three

by Thomas Frognall Dibdin

LETTER VII.

FREYSING. LANDSHUT. ALTÖTING. SALZBURG. THE MONASTERY OF ST. PETER.

Salzburg; Golden Ship, Aug. 23, 1818.

MY DEAR FRIEND;

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 Mölk--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 Ædes Althorpianæ 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--("Thom⁹ mor⁹"--) 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--Neümarkt--(Angl. "Newmarket") in the route to Salzburg. Neümarkt 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. Neümarkt will be quickly forgotten: but the following stage--or Altöting--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. ALTÖTING 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.

On concluding our dinner, and quitting Lauffen, it grew dusk, and the rain began to fall in a continued drizzling shower. "It always rains at Salzburg, sir," said the valet--repeating the information of the post boy. This news made us less cheerful on leaving Lauffen than we were on quitting Altöting: but "hope travelled through"--even till we reached the banks of the river Salz, within a mile or two of Salzburg--where the Austrian dominions begin, and those of Bavaria terminate. Our carriage was here stopped, and the trunks were examined, very slightly, on each side of the river. The long, wooden, black and yellow-striped bar of Austria-- reaching quite across the road--forbade further progress, till such examination, and a payment of four or five florins, as the barrier-tax,-- had been complied with. I had imagined that, if our trunks had been examined on one side of the water, there needed no examination of them on the other; unless we had had intercourse with some water fiend in the interval. It seemed, however, that I reasoned illogically. We were detained full twenty minutes, by a great deal of pompous palaver-- signifying nothing--on the part of the Austrian commissioner; so that it was quite dark when we entered the barriers of the town of Salzburg:-- mountains, trees, meadows, and rivulets having been long previously obliterated from our view.

The abrupt ascents and descents of the streets--and the quivering reflection of the lights from the houses, upon the surface of the river Salz--soon convinced us that we were entering a very extraordinary town. But all was silent: neither the rattling of carriages, nor the tread of foot-passengers, nor the voice of the labourer, saluted our ear on entering Salzburg--when we drove briskly to the Gölden-Schiff, in the Place de la Cathedrale, whence I am now addressing you. This inn is justly considered to be the best in the town; but what a melancholy reception--on our arrival! No rush of feet, no display of candles, nor elevation of voices, nor ringing of the bell--- as at the inns on our great roads in England--but ... every body and every, thing was invisible. Darkness and dulness seemed equally to prevail. One feeble candle at length glimmered at the extremity of a long covered arch-way, while afterwards, to the right, came forward two men--with what seemed to be a farthing candle between them, and desired to know the object of our halting? "Beds, and a two-day's residence in your best suite of apartments," replied I quickly-- for they both spoke the French language. We were made welcome by one of them, who proved to be the master, and who helped us to alight. A long, and latterly a wet journey, had completely fatigued us--and after mounting up one high stair-case, and rambling along several loosely-floored corridors-- we reached our apartments, which contained each a very excellent bed. Wax candles were placed upon the tables: a fire was lighted: coffee brought up; and a talkative, and civil landlord soon convinced us that we had no reason to grumble at our quarters.[83]

On rising the next morning, we gazed upon almost every building with surprise and delight; and on catching a view of the CITADEL--in the back ground, above the Place de la Cathedrale--it seemed as if it were situated upon an eminence as lofty as Quito. I quickly sought the Monastery of St. Peter;--the oldest in the Austrian dominions. I had heard, and even read about its library; and imagined that I was about to view books, of which no bibliographer had ever yet--even in a vision--received intelligence. But you must wait a little ere I take you with me to that monastic library.

There is a pleasing chime of bells, which are placed outside of a small cupola in the Place, in which stands the cathedral. I had heard this chime during the night--when I would rather have heard ... any thing else. What struck me the first thing, on looking out of window, was, the quantity of grass--such as Ossian describes within the walls of Belcluthah-- growing between the pavement in the square. "Wherefore was this?" "Sir, (replied the master of the Gölden Schiff) this town is undergoing a gradual and melancholy depopulation. Before the late war, there were 27,000 inhabitants in Salzburg: at present, there are scarcely 15,000. This Place was the constant resort of foreigners as well as townsmen. They filled every portion of it. Now, you observe there is only a narrow, worn walk, which gives indication of the route of a few straggling pedestrians. Even the very chimes of yonder bells (which must have delighted you so much at every third hour of the night!) have lost their pleasing tone;--and sound as if they foreboded still further desolation to Salzburg." The man seemed to feel as he spoke; and I own that I was touched by so animated and unexpected a reply.

I examined two or three old churches, of the Gothic order, of which I have already forgotten the names--unless they be those of Ste. Trinité and St. Sebastien. In one of them--it being a festival--there was a very crowded congregation; while the priest was addressing his flock from the steps of the altar, in a strain of easy and impassioned eloquence. Wherever I went--and upon almost whatever object I gazed--there appeared to be traces of curious, if not of remote, antiquity. Indeed the whole town abounds with such--among which are some Roman relics, which have been recently (1816) described by Goldenstein, in a quarto volume published here, and written in the German language.[84]

But you are impatient for the MONASTERY OF ST. PETER.[85] Your curiosity shall be no longer thwarted; and herewith I proceed to give you an account of my visit to that venerable and secluded spot--the abode of silence and of sanctity. It was my first appearance in a fraternity of MONKS; and those of the order of ST. BENEDICT. I had no letter of recommendation; but, taking my valet with me, I knocked at the outer gate--and received immediate admission within some ancient and low cloisters: of which the pavement consisted entirely of monumental slabs. The valet sought the librarian, to make known my wishes of examining the library; and I was left alone to contemplate the novel and strange scene which presented itself on all sides. There were two quadrangles, each of sufficiently limited dimensions. In the first, there were several young Monks playing at skittles in the centre of the lawn. Both the bowl and pins were of unusually large dimensions, and the direction of the former was confined within boards, fixed in the earth. These athletic young Benedictins (they might be between twenty and thirty years of age) took little or no notice of me; and while my eye was caught by a monumental tablet, which presented precisely the same coat-armour as the device used by Fust and Schoeffher,-- and which belonged to a family that had been buried about two hundred and fifty years--the valet returned, and announced that the Principal of the College desired to see me immediately.

I obeyed the summons in an instant, and followed Rohfritsch up stairs. There, on the first floor, a middle-aged monk received me, and accompanied me to the chamber of the President. On rapping at the door with his knuckles, a hollow but deep-toned voice commanded the visitor to enter. I was introduced with some little ceremony, but was compelled, most reluctantly, to have recourse to Latin, in conversing with the Principal. He rose to receive me very graciously; and I think I never before witnessed a countenance which seemed to tell of so much hard fagging and meditation. He must have read every Father, in the editio princeps of his works. His figure and physiognomical expression bespoke a rapid approach to the grand climacteric of human life. The deeply-sunk, but large and black, beaming eye--the wan and shrivelled cheek--the nose, somewhat aquiline, with nostrils having all the severity of sculpture-- sharp, thin lips--an indented chin--and a highly raised forehead, surmounted by a little black silk cap--(which was taken off on the first salutation) all, added to the gloom of the place, and the novelty of the costume, impressed me in a manner not easily to be forgotten. My visit was very short, as I wished it to be; and it was concluded with an assurance, on the part of the Principal, that the librarian would be at home on the following day, and ready to attend me to the library:--but, added the Principal, on parting, "we have nothing worthy of the inspection of a traveller who has visited the libraries of Paris and Munich. At Mölk, you will see fine books, and a fine apartment for their reception."

For the sake of keeping, in the order of my narrative, I proceed to give you an account of the visit to the library, which took place on the morrow, immediately after breakfast. It had rained the whole of the preceding night, and every hill and mountain about Salzburg was obscured by a continuation of the rain on the following day. I began to think the postilion spoke but too true, when he said "it always rains at Salzburg." Yet the air was oppressive; and huge volumes of steam, as from a cauldron, rose up from the earth, and mingled with the descending rain. In five minutes, I was within the cloisters of the monastery, and recognised some of the skittling young monks--whom I had seen the day before. One of them addressed me very civilly, in the French language, and on telling him the object of my visit, he said he would instantly conduct me to Mr. GAERTNER, the librarian. On reaching the landing place, I observed a long corridore--where a somewhat venerable Benedictin was walking, apparently to and fro, with a bunch of keys in one hand, and a thick embossed-quarto under his other arm. The very sight of him reminded me of good Michael Neander, the abbot of the monastery of St. Ildefonso--the friend of Budæus[86]--of whom (as you may remember) there is a print in the Rerum Germanicarum Scriptores, published in 1707, folio.

"That, Sir, is the librarian:"--observed my guide: "he waits to receive you." I walked quickly forward and made obeisance. Anon, one of the larger keys in this said bunch was applied to a huge lock, and the folding and iron-cramped doors of the library were thrown open. I descended by a few steps into the ante-room, and from thence had a completely fore-shortened view of the library. It is small, but well filled, and undoubtedly contains some ancient and curious volumes: but several hiatuses gave indication that there had been a few transportations to Vienna or Munich. The small gothic windows were open, and the rain now absolutely descended in torrents. Nevertheless, I went quickly and earnestly to work. A few slight ladders were placed against the shelves, in several parts of the library, by means of which I left no division unexplored. The librarian, after exchanging a few words very pleasantly, in the French language, left me alone, unreservedly to prosecute my researches. I endeavoured to benefit amply by this privilege; but do not know, when, in the course of three or four hours, I have turned over the leaves of so many volumes ... some of which seemed to have been hardly opened since they were first deposited there ... to such little purpose.

However, he is a bad sportsman who does not hit something in a well- stocked cover; and on the return of the librarian, he found me busily engaged in laying aside certain volumes--with a written list annexed-- "which might possibly, be disposed of ... for a valuable consideration?" "Your proposal shall be attended to, but this cannot be done immediately. You must leave the consideration to the Principal and the elder brethren of the monastery." I was quite charmed by this response; gave my address, and taking a copy of the list, withdrew. I enclose you the list or catalogue in question.[87] Certainly I augur well of the result: but no early Virgil, nor Horace, nor Ovid, nor Lucretius, nor even an early Greek Bible or Testament! What struck me, on the score of rarity, as most deserving of being secured, were some little scarce grammatical and philological pieces, by the French scholars of the early part of the sixteenth century; and some controversial tracts about Erasmus, Luther, and Eckius.

So much for the monastic visit to St. Peter's at Salzburg; and yet you are not to quit it, without learning from me that this town was once famous for other similar establishments[88]--which were said anciently to vie with the greater part of those in Austria, for respectability of character, and amplitude of possessions. At present, things of this sort seem to be hastening towards a close, and I doubt whether the present principal will have half a dozen successors. It remains only to offer a brief sketch of some few other little matters which took place at Salzburg; and then to wish you good bye--as our departure is fixed for this very afternoon. We are to travel from hence through a country of mountains and lakes, to the Monastery of Chremsminster, in the route to Lintz--on the high road to Vienna. I have obtained a letter to the Vice-President of Mölk monastery, from a gentleman here, who has a son under his care; so that, ere I reach the capital of Austria, I shall have seen a pretty good sprinkling of Benedictins--as each of these monasteries is of the order of St. Benedict.

The evening of the second day of our visit here, enabled me to ascertain something of the general character of the scenery contiguous to the town. This scenery is indeed grand and interesting. The summit of the lowest hill in the neighbourhood is said to be 4000 feet above the level of the sea. I own I have strong doubts about this. It is with the heights of mountains, as with the numbers of books in a great library,--we are apt to over-rate each. However, those mountains, which seem to be covered with perennial snow, must be doubtless 8000 feet above the same level.[89] To obtain a complete view of them, you must ascend some of the nether hills. This we intended to do--but the rain of yesterday has disappointed all our hopes. The river Salz rolls rapidly along; being fed by mountain torrents. There are some pretty little villas in the neighbourhood, which are frequently tenanted by the English; and one of them, recently inhabited by Lord Stanhope, (as the owner informed me,) has a delightful view of the citadel, and the chain of snow-capt mountains to the left. The numerous rapid rivulets, flowing into the Salz, afford excellent trout-fishing; and I understood that Sir Humphry Davy, either this summer, or the last, exercised his well-known skill in this diversion here. The hills abound with divers sorts of four-footed and winged game; and, in short, (provided I could be furnished with a key of free admission into the library of St. Peter's Monastery) I hardly know where I could pass the summer and autumn months more completely to my satisfaction than at SALZBURG. What might not the pencils of Turner and Calcott here accomplish, during the mellow lights and golden tints of autumn?

Of course, in a town so full of curiosities of every description, I am not able, during so short a stay in it, to transmit you any intelligence about those sights which are vulgarly called the Lions. But I must not close this rambling, desultory letter, without apprising you that I have walked from one end of the Mönschberg to the other. This is an excavation through a hard and high rocky hill, forming the new gate, or entrance into the town. The success of this bold undertaking was as complete, as its utility is generally acknowledged: nor shall it tarnish the lustre of the mitre to say, that it was a BISHOP of Salzburg who conceived, and superintended the execution of, the plan. A very emphatic inscription eternises his memory: "TE SAXA LOQUUNTUR." The view, from the further end of it, is considered to be one of the finest in Europe: but, when I attempted to enjoy it, every feature of the landscape was obscured by drizzling rain. "It always rains at Salzburg!"--said, as you may remember, the postilion from Lauffen. It may do so: but a gleam of sunshine always enlivens that moment, when I subscribe myself, as I do now, your affectionate and faithful friend.