104 Recollections of Scenes and Cities. ^August, 



need scarcely say, after this, that the women of Bavaria are extravagantly 

 fond of dress ; the girl who waited at the table d'hote in the hotel, wore 

 a gown, the waist of which was entirely of silver. Customs like these, 

 give great life and beauty to the picture of a population ; nor is it 

 easy to forget the brilliant effect of these silver tiaras and silver-waisted 

 gowns, when on Sunday evening a Munich holiday is held in the royal 

 gardens. 



I was in Munich when the king returned from Italy, where he had 

 been for some months on account of his health. If the King of Bavaria 

 owns a smaller dominion than some other kings, he can boast of a larger 

 measure of his people's affection. It was an universal holiday — the 

 town seemed mad with joy — and his entree was like a trivimph ; one 

 might almost have envied even a crown. The same evening, his majesty 

 honoured the theatre with his presence, and there his reception was 

 equally enthusiastic ; he deserves his popularitj^ ; he lives as moderately 

 as any' gentleman about court, and the large surplus which he has been 

 enabled to save from his private revenue, enables him to beautify his 

 capital, and to be the munificent patron of literature and the arts. That 

 most splendid edifice in Europe, the Glypthothek, before which the 

 Louvre sinks into insignificance, has been erected at his own expense ; 

 and the magnificent palace now in progress, is also the offspring of his 

 moderation and public spiritedness. His majesty is a shght, gentle- 

 manlike person, with a pleasing, but not a handsome countenaiice — 

 and may be seen any day among the ancient statues in the Glyptho- 

 thek, or walking over the new palace. 



From Bavaria, my recollections carry me across the lake of Constance 

 into Switzerland. 



When I think of the Swiss towns, one, not the most celebrated, rises 

 to my memory ; it is not Lucern, nor Berne, nor Zurich, nor any of the 

 towns best known to fame ; it is Zoug — the quiet, secluded catholic 

 Zoug, passed over by some travellers, and cried down by others : but com- 

 mend me to a long summer's day at Zoug — a day of musing, with no inter- 

 ruption but that of an excellent dinner at the Hotel de Cerf. Zoug has 

 nothing of the bustle and money-getting air of Zurich ; neither is it like 

 Berne, full of vanities and distinctions — nor like Lucern, full of filth, 

 beggars, and idleness, — nor like all the smaller towns — such as Thun, 

 and Unterseen, and Nevay, and Altorf, full of travelling English, who 

 make the inns dear, and the people idle. 'Tis the perfect picture of a 

 country town in an out-of-the-way place ; only a few children are to be 

 seen in the streets, and matrons sitting at their doors — the men and the 

 maidens are all in the fields at work, or with the cows or the goats ; and 

 in the evening, long processions of these tame creatures are seen return- 

 ing, straggling along the streets, and every one stopping at its own door. 

 I was nearly concluding a bargain with the innkeeper at Zoug to 

 spend the summer with him — he asked the moderate sum of four francs 

 per day. 



I was the spectator, and indeed partly a participator in a curious scene 

 in the country of the Grisons, which is now the only district of Switzer- 

 land where the primitive manners of the people are preserved. I walked 

 into Fettam, a small town of the lower Engadine, about ten in the 

 morning ; it seemed to be a holiday ; it was not Sunday, and yet all the 

 iTien were clad in their best blue homespun — and the women also in their 

 best printed calicos. In the inn, I found all was preparation for some- 



