interview; and I think he shewed me (not for the purpose of sale) a copy of the famous tract of St. Austin, called De Arte praedicandi, printed by Fust or by Mentelin; in which however, as the copy was imperfect, he was not thoroughly conversant.  They are all proud at Strasbourg of their countryman Mentelin, and of course yet more so of Gutenberg; although this latter was a native of Mentz.  Mr. Levrault concluded his conversation by urging me, in strong terms, to visit Colmar ere I crossed the Rhine; as that place abounded with “DES INCUNABLES TYPOGRAPHIQUES.”  I told him that it was impossible; that I had a great deal on my hands to accomplish on the other side of the Rhine; and that my first great stroke, in the way of BOOK-ACQUISITIONS, must be struck at Stuttgart.  M. Levrault seemed surprised—­“for truly,” (added he) “there are no old books there, save in the Public Library.”  I smiled, and wished him a good day.

Upon the whole, my dear friend, I have taken rather an affection for this place.  All classes of people are civil, kind, and communicative:  but my obligations are due, in a more especial manner, to the younger Mr. Schweighaeuser and to Madame Francs.  I have passed several pleasant evenings with the former, and talked much of the literature of our country with him and his newly married spouse:  a lively, lady-like, and intelligent woman.  She is warm in commendation of the Mary Stuart of Schiller; which, in reply to a question on my part, she considers to be the most impassioned of that Dramatist’s performances.  Of English she knows nothing; but her husband is well read in Thomson, Akenside, and Pope; and of course is sufficiently well acquainted with our language.  A more amiable and zealous man, in the discharge of his duties as a teacher of youth, the town of Strasbourg does not possess.  His little memoir of Koch has quite won my heart.[229]

You have heard me mention the name of OHMACHT, a sculptor.  He is much caressed by the gentry of this place.  Madame Francs shewed me what I consider to be his best performance; a profile, in white marble, of her late daughter, who died in childbed, in her twenty-first year.  It is a sweet and tender production:  executed upon the Greek model—­and said to be a strong resemblance of the deceased.  Madame Francs shewed it to me, and expatiated upon it with tears in her eyes:  as she well might—­for the character of the deceased was allowed to have been as attractive as her countenance.[230] I will candidly confess that, in other respects, I am a very qualified admirer of the talents of Ohmacht.  His head of Oberlin is good; but it is only a profile.  I visited his Studio, and saw him busy upon a colossal head of Luther—­in a close-grained, but coarse-tinted, stone.  I liked it as little as I have always liked heads of that celebrated man.  I want to see a resemblance of him in which vulgarity shall be lost in energy of expression.  Never was there a countenance which bespoke greater intrepidity of heart.