George Ticknor, Life, letters and journals of George Ticknor
George Hillard, Ed.

July 5.—We breakfasted in our own rooms. . . . . As the monks are priests, who must say their masses every morning, . . . . they all breakfast separately. When it was over with us, Kurtz, Stiltz, and one or two other monks came and showed us the library. It consists of about fifty thousand volumes, and is very respectable from its composition. In literary history it is quite remarkable, and there is an admirable room full of incunabula. I saw, too, a great deal, both of elegant literature and of Protestant learning, which could hardly be expected in a convent; and there was a tone in the conversation of the monks much freer than would seem to be appropriate to their condition. The political atmosphere, both here and at Molk, was quite liberal, at least round some of the monks.

We saw their collections in natural history, mineralogy, etc., which were of moderate value, but two parts of the establishment surprised me very much. One was a suite of rooms, about twenty or twenty-five in number, called the Kaiser-Zimmer,—Imperial Rooms,—which were prepared for the Emperor, Charles VI., who sent the monks word, when their convent was building, a century ago, that he would come and see them every year, and hunt in their woods, if they would fit up apartments worthy of him. They did so, of course; for, as one of the monks said, such imperial hints were like ‘requests in full armor,’ and the Emperor and Prince Eugene used to come, and live upon the monks several weeks every autumn, which they found a very burdensome honor for their revenues. The rooms are now, of course, neglected, but they are still princely and grand; and the convent might, in all respects, easily be put in order to receive an emperor and his court, as in a vast palace. The other part of the monastery that surprised me was the church. Its size, its marbles, its rich but not overburdened ornaments, and its free, unincumbered architecture, reminded me of the magnificent churches at Venice. It will hold eight thousand people, and the whole country round so throng here, at the feast of St. Florian and several other great festivals, that it is filled.

As we came back from the church I met a messenger from the Prelate, who sent his compliments, to say he would make me a visit, if I were disengaged. It seemed more suitable for me to go to him, and I went at once. I found him living in a suite of twenty or thirty rooms . . . . There was some state about him, a doorkeeper and two or three monks in attendance, the rooms very noble. He himself seemed about fifty, with the air and manners of the world, and agreeable and rather courtly conversation. He regretted that he was