DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.62134#0168
160
AN ART-STUDENT IN MUNICH.
unaccountable village of palaces, or of palace out-buildings
it is. Out-buildings they certainly must be, for manure-
heaps grace certain doors. I must not forget to tell you
that in the front of this semicircle were frozen ponds, end-
ing of course in the canal,
Our driver asked us whether we wished to see the in-
terior of the castle; but we assured him that on such a cold
day we preferred the warm furs of his sledge to the cold
splendour of the palace; which, however, might attract us,
perhaps, when summer should come. Until then we would
now bid adieu, therefore, to Nymphenburg, with its won-
derful gardens—of which we caught a shivering glance-
where rows of naked statues, and vases and urns filled with
snow, made us feel yet colder than before. And then, listen-
ing to our driver’s narrations of fountains, and grottoes,
and baths, and of how he had one summer, every evening, at
eight o’clock, driven out an Englishman to Nymphenburg
to see the sunset-light reflect itself in the magnificent
fountain, we, or rather the horses, made the best of their
way back towards Munich.
We were very cold, and somewhat disappointed in the
external charms of Nymphenburg. But we had been
there; and that was something. Some day, when the
leaves are come, and birds are singing in the linden avenue,
I may have pleasanter things to chronicle about this royal
chateau.
AN ART-STUDENT IN MUNICH.
unaccountable village of palaces, or of palace out-buildings
it is. Out-buildings they certainly must be, for manure-
heaps grace certain doors. I must not forget to tell you
that in the front of this semicircle were frozen ponds, end-
ing of course in the canal,
Our driver asked us whether we wished to see the in-
terior of the castle; but we assured him that on such a cold
day we preferred the warm furs of his sledge to the cold
splendour of the palace; which, however, might attract us,
perhaps, when summer should come. Until then we would
now bid adieu, therefore, to Nymphenburg, with its won-
derful gardens—of which we caught a shivering glance-
where rows of naked statues, and vases and urns filled with
snow, made us feel yet colder than before. And then, listen-
ing to our driver’s narrations of fountains, and grottoes,
and baths, and of how he had one summer, every evening, at
eight o’clock, driven out an Englishman to Nymphenburg
to see the sunset-light reflect itself in the magnificent
fountain, we, or rather the horses, made the best of their
way back towards Munich.
We were very cold, and somewhat disappointed in the
external charms of Nymphenburg. But we had been
there; and that was something. Some day, when the
leaves are come, and birds are singing in the linden avenue,
I may have pleasanter things to chronicle about this royal
chateau.