class="c5">252-273

The Opera at Munich, the Kapel Meister Stuntz 274 The Poems of the King of Bavaria 279 A public day at the New Palace 281 Thoughts on Female Singers—Their condition and destiny 284 The Munich Gallery—Thoughts on Pictures—their moral influence 287 Rubens and the Flemish Masters 295 The Gallery of Schleissheim 304 The Boisserée Gallery—The old German School of Painting—Its Effects on the Modern German School of Art 304 Representation of the Braut von Messina 310 The Hofgarten at Munich 313 The King's passion for Building 316

THE AUTHOR TO THE READER.

It seems a foolish thing to send into the world a book requiring a preface of apologies; and yet more absurd, to presume that any deprecation on the part of the author could possibly win indulgence for what should be in itself worthless.

For this reason, and with a very deep feeling of the kindness I have already experienced from the public, I should now abandon these little volumes to their destiny without one word of preface or remark, but that a certain portion of their contents seems to require a little explanation.

It was the wish and request of my friends, many months ago, that I should collect various literary trifles which were scattered about in print or in manuscript, and allow them to be published together. My departure for the continent set aside this intention for the time. I had other and particular objects in view, which still keep full possession of my mind, and which have been suspended not without reluctance, in order to prepare these volumes for the press;—neither had I, while travelling in Germany, the slightest idea of writing any thing of that country: so far from it, that except during the last few weeks at Munich, I kept no regular notes: but finding on my return to England, that many particulars which had strongly excited my interest, with regard to the relative state of art and social existence in the two countries, appeared new to those with whom I conversed,—after some hesitation, I was induced to throw into form the few memoranda I had made on the spot. They are now given to the public in the first and second volumes of this little collection, with a very sincere feeling of their many imperfections, and much anxiety with regard to the reception they are likely to meet with; yet in the earnest hope that what has been written in perfect simplicity of heart, may be perused both by my English and German friends, particularly the artists, with indulgence; that those who read and doubt may be awakened to inquiry, and those who read and believe may be led to reflection; and that those who differ from, and those who agree with the writer, may both find some interest and amusement in the literal truth of the facts and impressions she has ventured to record.

It was difficult to give sketches of art, literature, and character, without making now and then some personal allusions; but though I have often sketched from the life, I have adhered throughout to this principle—never to give publicity to any name not already before the public, and in a manner public property.

Two of the tales of the third volume, "The False One," and "The Indian Mother," were written at different times, to prove that I could write in a style which should not be recognised as mine even by my most intimate friends, and the ruse so far succeeded, that both, as I am informed, have been attributed to other writers.

A. J.

May 1834.

SKETCHES OF ART, LITERATURE, AND CHARACTER.

PART I.
IN THREE DIALOGUES.

I.

MEDON—ALDA.

MEDON.

And so we are to have no "Sentimental Travels in Germany" on hot-pressed paper, illustrated with views taken on the spot?

ALDA.

No.

MEDON.

You have unloaded Time of his wallet only to deal out his "scraps of things past," his shreds of remembrance, in beggarly, indolent fashion, over your own fire-side? You are afraid of being termed an egotist; you, who within these ten minutes have assured me that not any opinion of any human being should prevent you from doing, saying, writing—any thing—

ALDA.

Finish the sentence—any thing, for truth's sake. But how is the cause of