We left that town a little after mid-day, intending to sleep the same evening at NEUMARKT, within two stages of Nuremberg.  About an English mile from Ratisbon, the road rises to a considerable elevation, whence you obtain a fine and interesting view of that city—­with the Danube encircling its base like a belt.  From this eminence I looked, for the last time, upon that magnificent river—­which, with very few exceptions, had kept in view the whole way from Vienna:  a distance of about two hundred and sixty English miles.  I learnt that an aquatic excursion, from Ulm to Ratisbon, was one of the pleasantest schemes or parties of pleasure, imaginable—­and that the English were extremely partial to it.  Our faces were now resolutely turned towards Nuremberg; while a fine day, and a tolerably good road, made us insensible of any inconvenience which might otherwise have resulted from a journey of nine German miles.

We reached Neumarkt about night-fall, and got into very excellent quarters.  The rooms of the inn which we occupied had been filled by the Duke of Wellington and Lord and Lady Castlereagh on their journey to Congress in the winter of 1814.  The master of the inn related to us a singular anecdote respecting the Duke.  On hearing of his arrival, the inhabitants of the place flocked round the inn, and the next morning the Duke found the tops of his boots half cut away—­from the desire which the people expressed of having “some memorial of the great captain of the age."[163] No other, or more feasible plan presented itself, than that of making interest with his Grace’s groom—­when the boots were taken down to be cleaned on the morning following his arrival.  Perhaps the Duke’s coat, had it been seen, might have shared the same fate.

The morning gave me an opportunity of examining the town of Neumarkt, which is surrounded by a wall, in the inner side of which is a sort of covered corridor (now in a state of great decay) running entirely round the town.  At different stations there are wooden steps for the purpose of ascent and descent.  In a churchyard, I was startled by the representation of the Agony in the Garden (so often mentioned in this Tour) which was executed in stone, and coloured after the life, and which had every appearance of reality.  I stumbled upon it, unawares:  and confess that I had never before witnessed so startling a representation of the subject.  Having quitted Neumarkt, after breakfast, it remained only to change horses at Feucht, and afterwards to dine at Nuremberg.  Of all cities which I had wished to see, before and since quitting England, NUREMBERG was that upon which my heart seemed to be the most fixed.[164] It had been the nursery of the Fine Arts in Bavaria; one of the favourite residences of Maximilian the Great; the seat of learning and the abode equally of commerce and of wealth during the sixteenth century.  It was here too, that ALBERT DURER—­perhaps the most extraordinary genius of his age—­lived and died:  and here I learnt that his tombstone, and the house in which he resided, were still to be seen.