THE CITY OF MUNICH 1904
NEVER shall I forget our invasion of Munich on the first day of January 1904. We had spent three months in Paris, and most of the time in drizzling weather. When we stepped out of our train at Munich in the morning, the sky was cloudless, the air was sharp, with some snow on the ground. It was a holiday; military bands were playing, the people looked radiantly happy, and the keynote of the place seemed to be cheerful animation. We drove up the broad Ludwigstrasse, turned to the left near the University at Schellingstrasse, and at No. 3, found the Pension Nordland, where we were to remain for months. It was kept by two charming German ladies, Fräulein Lammers and Fräulein Junkers, who were never separated until the former's death in 1937. They showed us to our rooms, which faced the South, and which were flooded with sunshine; in the corner of each stood a stove taller than Grandfather's Clock.
We had not been there five minutes before we felt at home, and Munich has seemed to me ever since eine deutsche Heimat.
Many novelists have written out plans and specifications for a Utopia, the city of their dreams. But while the Munich before the war had its imperfections like everything else on earth, it seemed to me then and seems to me in retrospect to be nearer the ideal city than any other.
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Publication information: Book title: Autobiography, with Letters. Contributors: William Lyon Phelps - Author. Publisher: Oxford University Press. Place of publication: New York. Publication year: 1939. Page number: 439.