The abrupt ascents and descents of the streets—­and the quivering reflection of the lights from the houses, upon the surface of the river Salz—­soon convinced us that we were entering a very extraordinary town.  But all was silent:  neither the rattling of carriages, nor the tread of foot-passengers, nor the voice of the labourer, saluted our ear on entering Salzburg—­when we drove briskly to the Goelden-Schiff, in the Place de la Cathedrale, whence I am now addressing you.  This inn is justly considered to be the best in the town; but what a melancholy reception—­on our arrival!  No rush of feet, no display of candles, nor elevation of voices, nor ringing of the bell—–­ as at the inns on our great roads in England—­but ... every body and every, thing was invisible.  Darkness and dulness seemed equally to prevail.  One feeble candle at length glimmered at the extremity of a long covered arch-way, while afterwards, to the right, came forward two men—­with what seemed to be a farthing candle between them, and desired to know the object of our halting?  “Beds, and a two-day’s residence in your best suite of apartments,” replied I quickly—­for they both spoke the French language.  We were made welcome by one of them, who proved to be the master, and who helped us to alight.  A long, and latterly a wet journey, had completely fatigued us—­and after mounting up one high stair-case, and rambling along several loosely-floored corridors—­we reached our apartments, which contained each a very excellent bed.  Wax candles were placed upon the tables:  a fire was lighted:  coffee brought up; and a talkative, and civil landlord soon convinced us that we had no reason to grumble at our quarters.[83]

On rising the next morning, we gazed upon almost every building with surprise and delight; and on catching a view of the CITADEL—­in the back ground, above the Place de la Cathedrale—­it seemed as if it were situated upon an eminence as lofty as Quito.  I quickly sought the Monastery of St. Peter;—­the oldest in the Austrian dominions.  I had heard, and even read about its library; and imagined that I was about to view books, of which no bibliographer had ever yet—­even in a vision—­received intelligence.  But you must wait a little ere I take you with me to that monastic library.

There is a pleasing chime of bells, which are placed outside of a small cupola in the Place, in which stands the cathedral.  I had heard this chime during the night—­when I would rather have heard ... any thing else.  What struck me the first thing, on looking out of window, was, the quantity of grass—­such as Ossian describes within the walls of Belcluthah—­growing between the pavement in the square.  “Wherefore was this?” “Sir, (replied the master of the Goelden Schiff) this town is undergoing a gradual and melancholy depopulation.  Before the late war, there were 27,000 inhabitants in Salzburg:  at present, there are scarcely 15,000.  This Place