Münich, August 10, 1850.—Yesterday I made further explorations among the curiosities of Münich: I visited the Treasury, the chief rooms in the castle, the Hall of the Beauties, who are not beauties at all and look as if they were taken from fashion plates; the fine statues of Schwanthaler in the throne-room delighted me greatly. From the castle I visited the Artists' Tavern: there they meet every evening and drink together and discuss art. The tavern has been arranged in a special way recalling the fifteenth-century Guilds: every artist has contributed some original decoration to the place which, though small in size is most original in appearance; the drinking cups, with each member's name and arms, are neatly arranged upon brackets and shelves modelled and carved from their designs; on several objects the names of Cornelius, Kaulbach, Schwanthaler may be read; in fact the place is quite interesting. I also visited the porter and the tinsmith who make the beer jugs and vessels well known to Bavaria; the most original designs are to be seen, both graceful and grotesque. I also saw the chapel dedicated to All Saints which adjoins the castle, a handsome, noble building, slightly Oriental in style which seems to have been constructed and decorated on the model of St. Mark at Venice. We then drove outside the town to the October-Wiese, in the middle of which rises the great monument of Bavaria, a colossal bronze statue by Schwanthaler, surrounded on three sides by a splendid marble colonnade, above which the statue towers for thirty feet; the scaffolding has not yet been removed, but what I could see is gigantic. As the weather was fine we went two leagues further in the direction of the Isar which flows down from the mountains to water the plain of Münich. A pretty wood led us to the foot of a Gothic castle which Schwanthaler had just finished building when death provided him with a more impregnable defence.
To-day I have visited the Glyptothek, the library and the beautiful palace of the Wittelsbach,[ [236] the winter residence of King Ludwig and Queen Theresa which was only completed last winter. We propose also to see the Pinacothek and the studio of Schwanthaler which his cousin carefully preserves and which is said to be interesting. This evening I shall see a fragment of Norma; and my visit to Münich will then be over. My expectations have been surpassed, my curiosity satisfied and my energies exhausted.
Salzburg, August 16, 1850.—I arrived here the day before yesterday after crossing a most beautiful and picturesque district in charming weather. I propose to plunge yet deeper into the mountains which shut in the town of Ischl. I have seen the cathedral, the Nonnenberg, with its old church and its noble convent, the fortress on its inaccessible rock, and the rooms which are being restored. I have visited Aigen where Cardinal Schwarzenberg is fond of retiring and which he left only ten days ago with great regret. I have seen the castle of Mirabelle and that of Heilbrunn, the beautiful and curious Anif, and finally the very original cemetery of St. Peter.
Ischl, August 17, 1850.—I am not particularly delighted by my stay here. The place upon my arrival seemed pretty enough while the air from the mountains which rise high and give excellent shelter on the north, must be delightful, but Ischl is full of people and, unfortunately, of people whom I know and who exact attention.
I hear from Paris that a crowd of legitimists are going to Wiesbaden to see the Comte de Chambord, and among others M. de La Ferté, son-in-law of M. Molé, who is said to have been specially sent by the Prince.
I have seen Louise Schönburg who is less uneasy on political subjects and readier to accord fair treatment to her brother, Felix Schwarzenberg. She fears, however, that the Minister Bach is a traitor who is cutting the ground from beneath her brother's feet. This Minister Bach is the abomination, primarily of the Austrian lords, but also of all landowners whatever their rank. Countess Schönburg, chief lady to the Duchess Sophia, came to bring me an invitation to dinner to-morrow with her Imperial Highness. As it is the Emperor's birthday there will be a family dinner and I shall see them all, or nearly all of them, to-morrow.
Ischl, August 19, 1850.—I hear from Berlin that Potsdam has treated the Duc de Bordeaux with the most flattering attention and the most marked kindness, to the general and complete delight.[ [237] General Haynau and Mlle. Rachel have divided public attention:[ [238] the General is envious of the place given to the actress, and it is said that this rivalry has produced somewhat comical scenes; in any case people are much more quickly weary of military vanity than of stage vanity.
At dinner with the Archduchess yesterday I was the only stranger apart from the Royal Family and the officers on duty. The young Emperor looks very handsome; his brother Max, my neighbour at table, is very talkative, witty and agreeable. The old Archdukes are all very polite, and the Archduchess Sophia, as usual, is most pleasant and attractive. The Emperor's health was drunk, a salvo of guns was fired and the military band played the National Anthem which was immediately taken up by the people assembled under the windows. At night the summits of the mountains and the town were illuminated with bonfires, with charming effect.
Ischl, August 21, 1850.—I have just come back from Aussee where the Binzer and Zedlitz families are settled in a most idyllic spot; beautiful situation, fresh meadows, picturesque lake, luxuriant trees and a neat, simple and convenient house of rustic form. The mother and the daughters superintend the small estate which the father cultivates himself, while Zedlitz writes verses, and while the armies of Italy and Hungary send him addresses and pieces of gold plate. One son draws beautifully and two of his friends carve and paint; they work at the decoration of this pretty abode, on the walls of which graceful frescoes represent the chief scenes from the poems of Zedlitz. In the evening young and old row about on the lake, singing Tyrolese and German ballads, French romances and Spanish boleros. Their residence is shut in by a valley, difficult to reach and rarely penetrated by echoes of the outer world. It is a dream, or better, a fiction within the sphere of reality.
Vienna, August 23, 1850.—I arrived here two hours ago literally roasted and overwhelmed by twelve hours on board a steamboat in African heat. The little boat was crammed, and though the banks of the Danube are sometimes picturesque and populous, I did not think them as interesting as the Rhine between Mayence and Cologne.