ULM[A]

BY THOMAS FROGNALL DIBDIN


We were now within about twenty English miles of Ulm. Nothing particular
occurred, either by way of anecdote or of scenery, till within almost
the immediate approach or descent to that city--the last in the Suabian
territories, and which is separated from Bavaria by the River Danube. I
caught the first glance of that celebrated river (here of comparatively
trifling width) with no ordinary emotions of delight. It recalled to my
memory the battle of Blenheim, or of Hochstedt; for you know that it was
across this very river, and scarcely a score of miles from Ulm, that the
victorious Marlborough chased the flying French and Bavarians--at the
battle just mentioned. At the same moment, almost, I could not fail to
contrast this glorious issue with the miserable surrender of the town
before me--then filled by a large and well-disciplined army, and
commanded by that nonpareil of generals, J.G. Mack!--into the power of
Bonaparte almost without pulling a trigger on either side--the place
itself being considered, at the time, one of the strongest towns in
Europe. These things, I say, rushed upon my memory, when, on the
immediate descent into Ulm, I caught the first view of the tower of the
minster which quickly put Marlborough, and Mack, and Bonaparte out of my
recollection.

I had never, since quitting the beach at Brighton, beheld such an
English-like looking cathedral--as a whole; and particularly the tower.
It is broad, bold, and lofty; but, like all edifices, seen from a