CONVERSATION. 265 Surely it is an inestimable advantage to have a companion with whom one can maintain the Commerce of Thought. It is amazing how a random word from one becomes the creator of Idea in another. It does not always require intellect to correspond with intellect. The simplest Flower that lifts its pale unpretending petals amidst the painted parterres of the garden, the undulating turf of the Meadow, or the breezy shadows in the recesses of the Wood, appeal to the feeling heart as eloquently as Tully or Demosthenes would have pleaded, or Virgil and Horace sung. But it is Speech, it is Speech, that, springing warm from the intercourse of one sentient spirit with another, not only suggests the idea, but improves it, not only discovers the jewel in its mine, but bringing it to light, gives it both lustre and shape. The advantages I enjoy, from the conversation of an enlightened associate, inspired this digression, and, as I began it with the Bard of Twickenham, I will break off with those splendid lines of Dryden, which, like Constellations, seen sometimes by sea-faring men in a cloudy night, shew themselves occasionally in the heavy Tragedies of glorious John. Speak, then! for Speech is Morning to the Mind, It spreads the beauteous Images abroad, Which else lies furled and clouded in the soul."* *The Duke of Guise. 266 THE TOWER OF DARKNESS. Landshut, October 24, 1844, 6 o'clock a. m. LANDSHUT is one of those noble old Towns which endiadem the immortal Isar; its Street a broad league, and its lofty Mansions a variegated panoply of the most venerable luxuriance. Here we stopped to breakfast, before the very faintest streak of the Dawn had embroidered 'the curtain of the Dark.' Stop we did with a vengeance, and if Breakfast was the object, we might have stopped evermore, had not Gustave, by dint of a vigorous cannonade of German invectives, obstinately sustained for the space of half an hour, obtained at last the necessary supplies. But my misery was to behold, from the Gateway of the Hostel, the soaring outline of that majestic Churchtower of St. Martin,—a sealed volume of architecture, on whose inexorable darkness the million stars and the red sinking Crescent shed an envious and malignant glare, much more congenial to that old towery Prisonhouse The Castle of Trausnitz, which, from its adjacent height, overshadowed so mysteriously this grand old Town. FREYSING is a beautiful place, beautiful principally to me because the stream "of Isar rolling rapidly" plays round its hoary walls, and because the riverside walks, embowering its spread of meadow and marsh lands, reminded me much of my beloved Isis, while its spiry Fanes were not wanting to complete the illusion. It was between this town and Garching that a huge Red Deer, tossing his forest of Antlers in the air, swept across the high way within a hundred yards of the Diligence; and, as if mocking its tortoise pace, sped towards the wood that bounded its immeasurable morass. I almost expected to see a royal or noble Cortege with winding horn and baying hound pursuing the noble creature's flight, but in vain. Munich, October 25, 1844. SOARING from the Monkish saltpits, to which she is indebted for her name, and flourishing beneath the auspices of that royal Prometheus who has illumined her mansions and palaces with celestial fire, the Mother City of Bavaria exhibits the glory, the triumph of Space. 268 KING LOUIS. "Give ample room and verge enough!" was the command of the Bavarian Sovereign to the Architects of Munich, and he was obeyed. Thank Goodness, it is impossible to describe wide streets and winding groves! and fortunately I have recovered my appetite for Palaces and Galleries, of which, like Horace Walpole, I was lately as sick as if I had eaten them. But what a marvellous place it is! Is it King Louis himself or the Genius of The Wonderful Lamp, in his shape, that traces these extraordinary streets, luxuriates in these ample squares, and bids Gothic Grandeur emulate Classic grace in this wilderness of Palaces. What a wonderful man must he be whose undertakings, inspired by genius, are so governed by a master taste that he has contrived to plant the painted Loggie of Florence and of Rome in his own Barbaric metropolis; and, without offending the eye, has transmitted the golden colourings of his mansions and the Frescoes and Reliefs of his public buildings from the theatres and porticoes of sunny Italy to the capricious protection of a German atmosphere. Those piles of Churches too, Ogres of Architecture as they are, how vastly do they contribute to the magnificent prestige of Munich. Who can behold those haughty Byzantine towers of the Cathedral, pushing their gigantic turbans to the very sky; the Dome and Cupola of the Theatines; FRESCOES IN ST. BONIFACE. 269 and the Romanesque Steeples of the Ludwig's Kirch soaring above the deep Linden groves and the broad green meadows of the English Garden; with the solemn tolls of those deep bells thundering from steeple to steeple over the rolling waters of the Isar; without remembering ChristChurch Meadows and her merry Bells? The incomparable aisles of her broad Elm Avenue, and such Towers as Magdalene and Merton, the Rotunda of the Radcliff, and the Minarets of All Souls are alone wanting to complete the picture. The Church of Saint Boniface, which, (recently originated and as yet in progress upon the plan of San Paolo fuori le Mure,) bids fair to outstrip, in the completion of her plumage, the Roman Phoenix, will be adorned with Frescoes depicting the principal events in the career of that admirable missionary Bishop Boniface, which would not disgrace the hand of Raphael himself. The legendary pictures, and medallions of portraits in the South Aisle, are already finished, and are certainly of vast merit. I was particularly pleased with the parting of young Boniface from his parents, and the painting that represents him in the act of cleaving the Druidical Oak. This last plunged me at once into that awful passage in the third book of the Pharsalia, "Lucus erat, longo nunquam violatus ab ævo, |