4. Munich
In the spring of 1912 I moved to Munich for good.
The city itself was as familiar to me as if I had lived within its walls for years. My studies were the reason for this, since of course at every step they turned my attention upon this metropolis of German art. Not only have you not seen Germany if you do not know Munich, no, above all you do not know German art if you have not seen Munich.
In any case this period before the war was the happiest and by far the most contented of my life. Though my living was still a very scanty one, after all I did not live in order to paint, but painted to assure myself of a living, or rather to be able to continue my studies. I had the conviction that I would still some day attain the goal I had set myself. And this in itself made it easy for me to bear undisturbed the other small worries of daily life.
Furthermore there was the love that possessed me for this city, more than any other town I knew, almost from the first moment I arrived. A German city! What a difference after Vienna! Even to think back on that Babylon of races turned my stomach. Then there was the dialect, much more natural to me, which reminded me, particularly when I talked with Lower Bavarians, of the days of my youth. There must have been a thousand things which were or became dear and precious to me. But most of all I was attracted by the wonderful mating of natural vigor with a fine artistic temper, the unique line from the Hofbräuhaus to the Odeon, the Oktoberfest to the Pinakothek, etc. Today I am more attached to that city than to any other spot in the world, no doubt partly because it is and re-
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