the case. In short, I was disappointed by this

scene.

The Flemish costumes were correct and beautitul. The Prince of Orange, in particular, looked as if he had just walked out of one of Vandyke's pictures.

After seeing this fine tragedy-surely enough for one evening's amusement-I was at home and in bed by half-past ten. They manage these things better here than in England.

Friday. Dinner at the French ambassador's, five o'clock. I mark this, because extraordinarily late at Munich. The plebeian dinner hour is twelve, or earlier; the general hour, one; the genteel hour, two; the fashionable hour, three ; but five is super-elegant-in the very extreme of finery-like a nine o'clock dinner in London. There were present the Princess Schwartzenburg and her sister the Princess Dietrichstein, the British Secretary of Legation, a young Englishman, Lord H. F., M. de Klenze, and four or five other gentlemen with stars and ribbons, names unknown. But the person who fixed my attention was Leo von Klenze, the celebrated architect, and deservedly a favourite of the king, who has, I believe, bestowed on him the superfluous honours of nobility. With the others, I had no sympathies

I felt an unconscious de

-with him a thousand, though he knew it not. I looked at him with curiosity—with interest. I liked his plain, but marked and clever countenance, and his easy manners. sire to be agreeable, and longed to make him talk ; but I knew that this was not the place or the moment for us to see each other to the greatest advantage. We had, however, some little conversation-a kind of beginning. He told me at dinner that the Glypthothek, (the gallery of sculpture here,) was planned and built by the present king, when only prince royal, and the expenses liquidated from his private purse, out of his yearly savings. He spoke with modesty of himself-with gratitude and admiration of the king, of whose talent, vivacity, impatience, and enthusiasm for art and artists I had already heard some characteristic anecdotes.

After coffee, part of the company dispersed to the opera, or elsewhere; others remained to lounge and converse. After the opera, we re-assembled with additions, and then tea, and cards, and talk, till past eleven. Madame de Vaudreuil receives almost every evening, and this seems to be the general routine.

Oct. 6. They are now celebrating here the Volksfest, (literally the "people's feast,") or annual

fair of Munich, and this has been a grand day of festivity. There have been races, a military review, &c.; but, except the race-horses in their embroidered trappings, which were led past my window, and a long cavalcade of royal carriages and crowds of people, in gay and grotesque costumes, hurrying by, I have seen nothing, being obliged to keep my room; so I listened to the firing of the cannon, and the shouts of the populace, and thought

Oct. 8.-First visit to the Glypthothek-just returned my imagination, still filled with "the blaze, the splendour, and the symmetry,”—excited as I never thought it could be again excited after seeing the Vatican; but this is the Vatican in miniature. Can it be possible that this glorious edifice was planned by a young prince, and erected out of his yearly savings? I am wonder-struck! I was not prepared for any thing so spacious, so magnificent, so perfect in taste and arrangement.

I do not yet know the exact measurement of the building! but it contains twelve galleries, the smallest about fifty, and the largest about one hundred and thirty feet it length. It consists of a square, built round an open central court, and the approach is by a noble portico of twelve Ionic

columns, raised on a flight of steps. As it stands in an open space, a little out of the town, with trees planted on either side, the effect is very imposing and beautiful. There are no exterior windows, they all open into the central court.

From the portico we enter a hall, paved with marble. Over the principal door is the name of the king, and the date of the erection. Two side doors lead to the galleries. Over the door on the left there is an inscription to the honour of Leo von Klenze, the architect of the building. Over the door on the right, is the name of Peter Cornelius, the painter, by whom the frescos were designed and chiefly executed. Thus the king, with a noble magnanimity, uniting truth and justice, has associated in his glory those to whom he chiefly owes it—and this charmed me. It is in much finer feeling, much higher taste, than those eternal (no, not eternal!) great N's of that imperial egotist, Napoleon, whose vulgar appetite for vulgar fame would allow no participation.

I walked slowly through the galleries so excited by the feeling of admiration, that I could make no minute or particular observations. The floors were all paved with marbles of various colours-the walls, to a certain height, are stuccoed in imitation of grey or dark green marble, so as to throw out

the sculpture and give it the full effect. The utmost luxury of ornament has been lavished on the walls and ceilings, some in painting, some in relief; but in each, the subjects and ornaments are appropriate to the situation, and as each gallery has been originally adapted to its destination, every where the effect to be produced has been judiciously studied. The light is not too great, nor too generally diffused-it is poured in from high semicircular windows on one side only, so as to throw the sculpture into beautiful relief. Two lofty and spacious halls are richly painted in fresco, with subjects from the Greek mythology, and the whole building would contain, I suppose, six times, or ten times, the number of works of art now there; at the same time all are so arranged that there appears no obvious deficiency. The collection was begun only in 1808, and since that time the king has contrived to make some invaluable acquisitions. I found here many of the most farfamed relics of ancient art, many that I had already seen in Italy! for instance, the Egina marbles, the Barberini Faun, the Barberini Muse or Apollo, the Leucothoë, the Medusa Rondanini, above all, the Ilioneus; but I cannot now dwell on these. I must go again and again before I can methodise my impressions and recollections.