[] A JOURNEY, &c.

HELVOETSLUYS.

ABOUT twenty hours after our embarkation, at Har⯑wich, and ſix after our firſt ſight of the low-ſpread and barren coaſt of Gorce, we reached this place, which is ſeated on one of many inlets, that carry the waters of the German Ocean through the ſouthern part of the province of Holland. Goree, rendered an iſland by theſe encroachments of the ſea, is always the firſt land expected by the ſeamen; or rather they look out for the lofty tower of its church, which, though ſeveral miles more diſtant than the ſhore, is viſible when that cannot be diſcerned. The entrance of the water between the land, in a channel probably three leagues wide, ſoon after commences; and Helvoetſluys is then preſently ſeen, with the maſts of veſſels riſing above its low houſes, amidſt green embankments and paſtures, that there begin to reward the care of excluding the ſea.

[2] The names of Dutch towns are in themſelves expreſſive of the ob⯑jects moſt intereſting to a people, who, for opportunities of commerce, have increaſed their original and natural dangers, by admitting the water in ſome parts, while, for their homes and their lives, they muſt prevent it from encroaching upon others. Dam, Sluice, or Dyke occur in almoſt all their compounded titles. The ſluice, which gives this town part of its name, is alſo its harbour; affording, per⯑haps, an outlet to the overflowings of the country behind, but filled at the entrance to the depth of more than eighty feet by the ſea, with which it communicates.

Upon the banks of this ſluice, which are partly artificial, the town is built in one ſhort ſtreet of ſmall houſes, inhabited chiefly by tradeſmen and innkeepers. The dockyard bounds the ſluice and the town, communicating with the former by gates, over which a ſmall pivot bridge connects the two ſides of the ſtreet. Each head of the pier, or harbour, has been extended beyond the land for ſeveral yards, by pile work, filled with earth and large ſtones, over which there is no pavement, that its condition may be conſtantly known. We ſtepped from the packet upon one of theſe, and, walking along the beams, that paſs between the immenſe piles, ſaw how cloſely the interſtices were filled, and how the earth and ſtones were again compacted by a ſtrong kind of baſket-work.

The arrival of a packet is the chief incident known at Helvoet⯑ſluys; [3] and, as ours entered the harbour about noon, and in fine wea⯑ther, perhaps, a fourth part of the inhabitants were collected as ſpec⯑tators. Their appearance did not ſurpriſe us with all the novelty, which we had expected from the firſt ſight of a foreign people. The Dutch ſeamen every where retain the national dreſs; but the other men of Helvoetſluys differ from Engliſhmen in their appearance chiefly by wearing coarſer clothes, and by bringing their pipes with them into the ſtreet. Further on, ſeveral women were collected about their baſkets of herbs, and their dreſs had ſome of the novelty, for which we were looking; they had hats of the ſize of a ſmall chineſe umbrella, and almoſt as gaudily lined within; cloſe, white jackets, with long flaps; ſhort, coloured petticoats, in the ſhape of a diving⯑bell; yellow ſlippers, without quarters at the heel; and caps, that exactly fitted the head and concealed the hair, but which were orna⯑mented at the temples by gold filiagree claſps, twirling, like vine ten⯑drils, over the cheeks of the wearer.

Our inn was kept by Engliſh people, but the furniture was en⯑tirely Dutch. Two beds, like cribs in a ſhip, were let into the wainſcot; and we were told, that, in all the inns on our journey, we ſhould ſeldom, or never, be ſhewn into a room, which had not a bed.

Helvoetſluys, it ſufficiently appears, is a very inconſiderable place, as to its ſize and inhabitants. But it is not ſo in naval, or military eſtimation. It is diſtant about ten or twelve miles from the open ſea, yet is nearly ſecure from attack on this ſide, becauſe that part of the approach, which is deep enough for large veſſels, is commanded [4] by batteries on ſhore. It ſtands in the middle of an immenſe bay, large enough to contain all the navy of Holland, and has a dockyard and arſenal in the centre of the fortifications. When we paſſed through it, ſix ſhips of the line and two frigates were lying in the dockyard, and two ſhips of the line and three frigates, under the command of an Admiral, in the bay.

The fortifications, we were aſſured upon good military authority, were in ſuch repair, that not a ſod was out of its place, and are ſtrong enough to be defended by five thouſand men againſt an hun⯑dred thouſand, for five weeks. The ſea water riſes to a conſiderable height in a wide ditch, which ſurrounds them. We omitted to copy an inſcription, placed on one of the walls, which told the date of their completion; but this was probably about the year 1696, when the harbour was perfected. Though the dockyard can be only one of the dependencies upon that of Rotterdam, the largeſt ſhips of that juriſdiction are preſerved here, on account of the convenient commu⯑nication between the port and the ſea.

Near this place may be obſerved, what we examined with more leiſure upon our return, the ingenuity, utility and vaſtneſs of the em⯑bankments, oppoſed by the Dutch to the ſea. From Helvoetſluys eaſtward, for many miles, the land is preſerved from the ſea only by an artificial mound of earth, againſt which the water heavily and often impetuouſly ſtrives for admiſſion into the ſheltered plains below. The ſea, at high water, is ſo much above the level of the ground, from which it is thus boldly ſeparated, that one who [5] ſtands on the land ſide of the embankment hears the water foaming, as if over his head. Yet the mound itſelf, which has ſtood for two centuries, at leaſt, without repair, though with many renewals of the means, that protect it, is ſtill unhurt and undiminiſhed, and may yet ſee generations of thoſe, whom it defends, riſing and paſſing away, on one ſide, like the fluctuations of the tides, which aſſail and retire from it, on the other.

It is better, however, to deſcribe than to praiſe. The mound, which appears to be throughout of the ſame height, as to the ſea, is ſometimes more and ſometimes leſs raiſed above the fields; for, where the natural level of the land aſſiſts in reſiſtance to the water, the Hollanders have, of courſe, availed themſelves of it, to exert the leſs of their art and their labour. It is, perhaps, for the moſt part, thirty feet above the adjoining land. The width at top is enough to permit the paſſage of two carriages, and there is a ſort of imperfect road along it. In its deſcent, the breadth increaſes ſo much, that it is not very difficult to walk down either ſide. We could not mea⯑ſure it, and may therefore be excuſed for relating how its ſize may be gueſſed.

On the land ſide, it is ſaid to be ſtrengthened by ſtone and timber, which we did not ſee, but which may be there, covered by earth and graſs. Towards the ſea, ſomewhat above and conſiderably below high-water mark, a ſtrong matting of flags prevents the ſurge from carrying away the ſurface of the mound; and this is the defence which has ſo long preſerved it. The matting is held to the ſhore by [6] bandages of twiſted flags, running horizontally, at the diſtance of three or four yards from each other, and ſtaked to the ground by ſtrong wooden pins. As this matting is worn by every tide, a ſur⯑vey of it is frequently made, and many parts appear to have been juſt repaired. Further in the ſea, it is held down by ſtones; above, there are poſts at every forty yards, which are numbered, that the ſpot may be exactly deſcribed where repairs are neceſſary. The impoſt for the maintenance of theſe banks amounts to nearly as much as the land-tax; and, as the land could not be poſſeſſed without it, this tax has the valuable character of being occaſioned by no miſmanage⯑ment, and of producing no diſcontent.

ROTTERDAM.

FROM Helvoetſluys to this place the uſual way is by the Brill and Maeſland ſluice, with ſeveral changes of carriages and boats; but, on the days of the arrival of mails, a Rotterdam ſkipper, whoſe veſſel has been left at a hamlet on the Maeſe, takes his party in car⯑riages acroſs the iſland of Voorn, on which Helvoetſluys ſtands, to his ſchuyt, and from thence by the Maeſe to Rotterdam. We paid two ducats, or about ſeventeen ſhillings, for the whole, and found this the higheſt price given for travelling in Holland. Our carriage [7] was a ſort of ſmall coach of the faſhion, exhibited in paintings of the ſixteenth century, but open before, and ſo ill-furniſhed with ſprings, that the Dutch name, ‘"a covered waggon,"’ was not an improper de⯑ſcription of it. A bad road led us through ſome meadows of meagre graſs, and through fields in which corn was higher, though thinner, than in England. The proſpect was over an entire level to the ho⯑rizon, except that the ſpires of diſtant villages, ſome ſmall cluſters of trees, and now and then a wind-mill, varied it. As we approached any of theſe cluſters, we found uſually a neat farm-houſe ſheltered within, and included, together with its garden and orchard, in a per⯑fect green fence: the fields were elſewhere ſeparated from each other and from the road, neither by hedges or walls, but by deep ditches filled with water, over which are laid ſmall bridges, that may be opened in the middle by a ſort of trap-door, raiſed and locked to a poſt, to prevent the intruſion of ſtrangers.

On the way we paſſed now and then a waggon filled with large braſs jugs, bright as new gold. In theſe veſſels, which have ſhort narrow necks, covered with a wooden ſtopper, milk is brought from the field throughout Holland. It is always carried to the towns in light waggons, or carts, drawn frequently by horſes as ſleek and well⯑conditioned as thoſe in our beſt coaches.

The hamlet, at which we were to embark, was buſied in celebrating ſome holiday. At the only cottage, that had a ſign, we applied for refreſhment, partly for the purpoſe of ſeeing its inſide, by which we were not a little gratified. Thirty or forty peaſants were ſeated upon [8] benches, about a circle, in which children were dancing to the ſcraping of a French fiddler. The women wore their large hats, ſet up in the air like a ſpread fan, and lined with damaſk, or flowered linen. Children of ſeven years old, as well as women of ſeventy, were in this prepoſterous diſguiſe. All had necklaces, ear-rings, and ornamental claſps for the temples, of ſolid gold: ſome wore large black patches of the ſize of a ſhilling. The old woman of the houſe had a valuable necklace and head-dreſs. Among the group were many of Teniers' beauties; and over the countenances of the whole aſſemblage was an air of modeſty, decorum, and tranquillity. The children left their dancing, to ſee us; and we had almoſt loſt our tide to Rotterdam, by ſtaying to ſee them.

Our ſail up the Maeſe was very delightful. The river flows here with great dignity, and is animated with veſſels of all countries paſſing to and from Rotterdam. The huge Archangelman, the lighter Ame⯑rican, the ſmart, ſwift Engliſhman, and the bulky Dutchman, exhibit a various ſcene of ſhipping, upon a noble ſurface of water, winding between green paſtures and rich villages, ſpread along the low ſhores, where pointed roofs, trees, and maſts of fiſhing-boats, are ſeen mingled in ſtriking confuſion. Small trading ſchuyts, as ſtout and as round as their maſters, glided by us, with crews repoſing under their deep orange ſails, and frequently exchanging ſome ſalute with our cap⯑tain. On our left, we paſſed the little town of Flaarding, celebrated for its ſhare of the herring-fiſhery on our coaſts; and Schiedam, a larger port, where what is called the Rotterdam geneva is made, and [9] where ſeveral Engliſh veſſels were viſible in the chief ſtreet of the place. After a ſail of two hours we diſtinguiſhed Rotterdam, ſur⯑rounded by more wood than had yet appeared, and overtopped by the heavy round tower of the great church of St. Lawrence. The flat⯑neſs of its ſituation did not allow us here to judge of its extent; but we ſoon perceived the grandeur of an ample city, extending along the north ſhore of the Maeſe, that, now ſpreading into a noble bay, along the margin of which Rotterdam riſes, ſweeps towards the ſouth-eaſt.

The part of the city firſt ſeen, from the river, is ſaid to be among the fineſt in Europe for magnificence and convenience of ſituation. It is called the Boom Quay, i. e. the quay with trees, having rows of lofty elms upon the broad terrace, that ſupports many noble houſes, but which is called a quay, becauſe ſhips of conſiderable burthen may moor againſt it, and deliver their cargoes. The merchants accordingly, who have reſidences here, have their warehouſes adjoining their houſes, and frequently build them in the form of domeſtic offices. The quay is ſaid to be a mile in length, but appears to be ſomewhat leſs. There are houſes upon it, as handſome as any in the ſquares of London.

At the top of the Boom Quay is one of the Heads, or entrances by water into the city, through which the greater part of its numerous canals receive their ſupplies. On the approach to it, the view further up the Maeſe detains attention to the bank of this noble river. A vaſt building, erected for the Admiralty, is made, by a bend of the Maeſe, almoſt to face you; and the interval, of more than a quarter [10] of a mile, is filled by a line of houſes, that open directly, and without a terrace, upon the water. The fronts of theſe are in another ſtreet; but they all exhibit, even on this ſide, what is the diſtinction of Dutch houſes and towns, a nicety and a perfectneſs of preſervation, which give them an air of gaiety without, and preſent you with an idea of comfort within. What in England would be thought a ſymptom of extraordinary wealth, or extravagance, is here univerſal. The outſide of every houſe, however old or humble, is as clean as water and paint can make it. The window-ſhutters are uſually coloured green; and whatever wood appears, whether in cornices or worſe ornaments, is ſo frequently cleaned, as well as painted, that it has always the gloſs of newneſs. Groteſque ornaments are ſometimes by theſe means ren⯑dered conſpicuous; and a ſtreet acquires the air of a town in a toy⯑ſhop; but in general there is not in this reſpect ſuch a want of taſte as can much diminiſh the value of their care.

Our ſkipper reached his birth, which is conſtantly in the ſame place, ſoon after paſſing the Head, and entering by a canal into one of the principal ſtreets of the city. Between the broad terraces of this ſtreet, which are edged with thick elms, the innumerable maſts of Dutch ſchuyts, with gay pendants and gilded tops; the hulls of larger veſſels from all parts of the world; the white drawbridges, covered with paſſengers; the boats, continually moving, without noiſe or ap⯑parent difficulty; all this did ſomewhat ſurpriſe us, who had ſup⯑poſed that a city ſo familiarly known, and yet ſo little mentioned as Rotterdam, could have nothing ſo remarkable as its wealth and trade.

[11] In our way from the boat to the inn, other fine canals opened upon us on each ſide, and we looked at them till we had loſt the man, whom we ſhould have followed with our baggage. We had no fear that it would be ſtolen, knowing the infrequency of robberies in Holland; and the firſt perſon, of whom we could enquire our way in broken Dutch, acknowledged his country people by anſwering in very good Engliſh. There are many hundreds of Britiſh reſidents in this place, and our language and commerce have greatly the ſway here over thoſe of all other foreign nations. The Dutch inſcriptions over ware⯑houſes and ſhops have frequently Engliſh tranſlations underneath them. Of large veſſels, there are nearly as many Engliſh as Dutch in the harbour; and, if you ſpeak to any Dutchman in the ſtreet, it is more probable that he can anſwer in Engliſh than in French. On a Sunday, the Engliſh fill two churches, one of which we at⯑tended on our return. It is an oblong brick building, permitted by the States to be within the juriſdiction of the Biſhop of London, Par⯑liament having given 2500 l. towards its completion in the beginning of the preſent century. There are alſo many Proteſtant diſſenters here, who are ſaid to have their offices of worſhip performed with the ability, ſimplicity, and zeal, which are uſually to be obſerved in the devotions of that claſs of Chriſtians.

Rotterdam is the ſecond city for ſize, and perhaps the firſt for beauty, in the United Provinces; yet, when we walked through it the next day, and expected to find the magnificence of the approach equalled in its interior, we were compelled to withdraw a little of the [12] premature admiration, that had begun to extend to the whole place. The ſtreet, where there is moſt trade and the greateſt paſſage, the Hoogſtraat, is little wider, though it is abundantly cleaner, than a London lane. The Stadthouſe is in this ſtreet, and is an old brick building, with a peaked roof, not entirely free from fantaſtic ornament. It has been built too early to have the advantages of modern elegance, and too late for the ſanction of ancient dignity. The market-place has only one wide acceſs; and the communication between the ſtreet, from the principal Head, and that in which the Exchange is placed, is partly through a very narrow, though a ſhort paſſage. The Exchange itſelf is a plain ſtone building, well deſigned for its pur⯑poſe, and completed about fifty years ago. The happieſt circum⯑ſtance relating to it is, that the merchants are numerous enough to fill the colonnades on the four ſides of its interior. Commerce, which cannot now be long diſcouraged in any part of Europe, becauſe with⯑out it the intereſt of public debts cannot be paid, is the permanent defender of freedom and knowledge againſt military glory and politics.

From the Exchange there is an excellent walk to the market-place, where the well-known ſtatue of ERASMUS is raiſed. Being repre⯑ſented in his doctor's dreſs, the figure can diſplay little of the artiſt's ſkill; but the countenance has ſtrong lines, and a phyſiognomiſt would not deny them to be expreſſive of the diſcernment and ſhrewdneſs of the original.

The market-place is really a large bridge, for a canal paſſes under it; but its ſize, and the eaſineſs of aſcent from the ſides, prevent this [13] from being immediately obſerved. Some of the ſurrounding houſes have their dates marked upon glazed tiles. They were built during the long war, that reſcued the provinces from the Spaniſh dominion; a time when it might be ſuppoſed that nothing would have been at⯑tended to, except the buſineſs of providing daily food, and the duty of reſiſting the enemy; but in which the Dutch enlarged and beautified their cities, prepared their country to become a medium of com⯑merce, and began nearly all the meaſures, which have led to their pre⯑ſent extenſive proſperity.

Near this place is the great church of St. LAWRENCE, which we entered, but did not find to be remarkable, except for a magnificent braſs baluſtrade that croſſes it at the upper end. A profuſion of achievements, which cover the walls almoſt to the top, contribute to its ſolemnity. In addition to the arms of the deceaſed, they contain the dates of their birth and death, and are uſed inſtead of inſcriptions, though no names are expreſſed upon them. Under the pulpit was an hour-glaſs, which limits the diſcourſe of the preacher: on one ſide a wand, having at the end a velvet bag and a ſmall bell; this is carried about, during an interval in the ſervice, and every body puts ſomething into it for the poor. The old beadle, who ſhewed us the church, laid his hands upon us with pleaſure, when he heard that we were Engliſh, and Proteſtants. There are three miniſters to this church, with ſalaries of nearly two hundred pounds ſterling each.

[14] We went to our inn through the Hoogſtraat, which was filled with people and carriages, but has no raiſed pavement to ſeparate the one from the other. In all the towns which we ſaw, the footpath is diſ⯑tinguiſhed from the road only by being paved with a ſort of light coloured brick. The Dutch ſhops are in the ſhape, which thoſe of London are deſcribed to have had fifty years ſince, with ſmall high windows, and blocks between them and the ſtreet. Silverſmiths expoſe their goods in ſmall glaſs cupboards upon the blocks, and nearly all the trades make upon them what little ſhew is cuſtomary. Almoſt every tenth houſe diſplays the inſcription Tabak te koop, ‘"Tobacco to be ſold."’ This ſtreet, having no canal, is occupied en⯑tirely by retail traders. We bought in it the Antwerp Gazette for two doights, or one farthing; ſtrawberries, large and well coloured, at a lower price than they could be had ſix weeks later in England, but without flavour; and went into ſeveral bookſellers' ſhops, ex⯑pecting to have found ſomething in Latin, or French, but could ſee only Dutch books. In another ſtreet a bookſeller had ſeveral En⯑gliſh volumes, and there are no doubt well filled ſhops, but not ſo numerous as that we could find any.

Over the canals, that flow through almoſt every ſtreet of Rot⯑terdam, are great numbers of large drawbridges, which contribute much to the neat and gay appearance of the city; but, when theſe are raiſed, the obſtruction to the paſſage occaſions crowds on each ſide; and, therefore, in ſome of the moſt frequented parts, the bridges are entire and permanent, except for the breadth of three feet in the [15] centre, where there is a plank, which opens upon hinges almoſt as eaſily as the lid of a trunk. Through this opening the maſts of the ſmall Dutch ſchuyts are eaſily conducted, but ſhips can paſs only where there are drawbridges. The number of the former is im⯑menſe; for, throughout the provinces, every village, if it is near a ca⯑nal, has ſeveral ſchuyts, which carry away the ſuperfluous produce of the country, and return with the manufactures, or ſtores of the towns. But neither their number, nor their neatneſs, is ſo remarkable as the eaſe and ſtillneſs, with which they traverſe the city; and indeed eaſe and ſtillneſs are much the characteriſtics of all the efforts of Dutch induſtry. The noiſe and agitation, uſual whenever many perſons are employed together in other countries, are unknown here. Ships are brought to their moorings, ſchuyts paſs each other in crowded canals, heavy burthens are raiſed and cargoes removed, al⯑moſt without a word, that can be heard at twenty yards diſtance.

Another circumſtance, rendering Dutch towns freer from noiſe than others of equal traffic, is the little uſe which is made of wag⯑gons and carts, even where ſome ſort of land carriage muſt be em⯑ployed. Heavy commodities are uſually carried about the ſtreets on ſledges; and almoſt the greateſt noiſe is, when the driver of one of theſe, after having delivered his load, meaning to render himſelf a prodigy of frolicſomeneſs, ſtands upon the hinder edges of his ſledge, and then, preventing himſelf from falling backward by his hold of the reins, is drawn rapidly through the admiring crowd.

[16] We were long enough at Rotterdam, during three viſits, to ſee how well it is provided with avenues towards the country and along the banks of the Maeſe. To one of theſe the way is over the two Heads, or chief canals, each of which you croſs for a doight, or half a farthing, in boats that are continually paſſing between the two ſides. This little voyage ſaves a walk of about three hundred yards to the neareſt bridge. The boats will hold twenty or thirty perſons, and the profit of them is very conſiderable to the City government, which applies the money to public purpoſes. Each boat is worked by one man, who pulls it over by a rope in a about two minutes.

Many of the inhabitants have what they call garden-houſes upon theſe walks, and upon a ſemi-circular road, which paſſes on the land ſide of the city; but the moſt wealthy have ſeats at greater diſtances, where they can be ſurrounded with grounds, and make the diſplay of independent reſidences.

Upon the whole, Rotterdam has from its ſituation many conve⯑niences and delights, and from its ſtructure ſome magnificence, to⯑gether with a general neatneſs; but is, for the moſt part, deſicient in elegance, and its beauties have too much the air of prettineſſes. The canals are indiſputably fine, crowned with lofty terraces, and deep enough to carry large veſſels into the centre of the city.

DELFT.

BETWEEN Rotterdam and this place we commenced our travelling in trechtſchuyts, which are too well known to need deſcrip⯑tion. The fare is at the rate of about a penny per mile, and a trifle more hires the roof, which is a ſmall ſeparate chamber, neareſt to the ſtern of the veſſel, lighted by windows on each ſide. In engaging this, you have an inſtance of the accuracy of the Dutch in their minuteſt tranſactions; a formal printed receipt, or ticket, is given for the few pence which it coſts, by a commiſſary, who has no other buſineſs than to regulate the affairs of the trechtſchuyts at his gate of the city. We could never learn what proportion of the fare is paid as a tax to the State, but it is ſaid to be a conſiderable part; and not only theſe ſchuyts, but the ferries, the poſt waggons, and the pilotage throughout the United States, are made contributory to the public funds.

The punctuality of the departure and arrival of the trechtſchuyts is well known, and juſtifies the Dutch method of reckoning diſtances, which is by hours, and not by leagues or miles. The canals being generally full to the brim, the top of the veſſel is above the level of the adjoining country, and the view over it is of courſe extenſive; but [18] the houſes and gardens, which are beſt worth ſeeing, are almoſt always upon the banks of the canal. We paſſed ſeveral ſuch in the way to Delft, towards which the Rotterdam merchants have their favourite ſeats; but Dutch gardens are rather to be noticed by an Engliſhman as curioſities, than as luxuries. It is not only by the known ill taſte of their ornaments, but by the effects of climate and the ſoil, that gardens are deprived of value, in a country, where the moiſture is ſo diſproportioned to the heat, that the verdure, though bright, has no fragrance, and the fruit, at its utmoſt ſize, ſcarcely any flavour.

A paſſage of two hours brought us to Delft, which we had expected to find a ſmall and ill-inhabited place, knowing it to be not now occu⯑pied by any conſiderable trade. Our inn, we ſuppoſed, muſt be within a few minutes walk. We proceeded, however, through one ſtreet for half a mile, and, after ſome turnings, did not reach our inn, though we were led by the neareſt way, in leſs than twenty minutes. During all this time we were upon the terraces of clear canals, amongſt excellent houſes, with a ſmall intermixture of ſhops and ſome public buildings. The mingled admiration and wearineſs, which we felt here, for the firſt time, have been, however, often repeated; for if there is a neceſſity for ſaying what is the next diſtinction of Dutch towns, after their neatneſs, their ſize muſt be inſiſted upon. There are Dutch villages, ſcarcely marked in a map, which exceed in ſize ſome of the county towns in England. Maeſland Sluice, a place oppoſite to the Brill, is one. And here is Delft, a place with ſcarcely any other trade than conſiſts in the circulation of commodities from Rotterdam [19] through ſome neighbouring villages; which is not the ſeat of any conſiderable part of the national government, and is inferior, in point of ſituation, to all the ſurrounding towns. Delft, thus undiſtinguiſhed, fills a large circumference, with ſtreets ſo intricately thick, that we never went from our inn without loſing our way.

The Doolen, one of the beſt inns in Holland, is a large building of the ſixteenth century, raiſed by the Spaniards, and firſt intended to be a convent; but, having been uſed by the burghers of Delft for public purpoſes, during the ſtruggle of the Provinces againſt Spain, it is now venerable as the ſcene of their councils and preparations. In the ſuite of large apartments, which were uſed by them, ſome of the city buſineſs is ſtill tranſacted, and in theſe ſtrangers are never entertained. Behind, is a bowling-green, in which the burghers to this day per⯑form their military exerciſes: they were ſo employed when we came in; and it was pleaſing to conſider, that their inferiority to their an⯑ceſtors, in point of martial appearance, was the reſult of the long in⯑ternal peace ſecured by the exertions of the latter.

Over two arches of the building is the date of its erection, 1565, the year in which the deſtruction of all families, profeſſing the Pro⯑teſtant religion either in France or Spain, is ſuppoſed to have been agreed upon at Bayonne between the ſovereigns of the two countries, and one year preceding the firſt meaſures of confederate reſiſtance in the Low Countries, which that and other efforts of perſecution pro⯑duced. One of theſe arches communicates with the rooms ſo long uſed by the burghers; and our hoſteſs, an intelligent woman, accom⯑panied [20] us through them. The firſt is ornamented with three large pictures, repreſenting ſeveral of the early burghers of the Common⯑wealth, either in arms or council. A portrait of BARNEVELDT is marked with the date and the painter's name, ‘"MICHAEL MIERE⯑VELD delineavit ac perfunctoriè pinxit, 1617,"’ one year before the flagitious arreſt of BARNEVELDT, in defiance of the conſtitution of the provinces, by MAURICE of ORANGE. A piece, exhibiting ſome of the burghers in arms, men of an handſome and heroic appearance; is alſo dated, by having 1648 painted on a drum; that, which ſhews them in council, has a portrait of GROTIUS, painted when he was ſeventeen. His face is the ſeventh from the right hand in the ſecond row.

Beyond this room are others containing ſeveral ſcore of ſmall cup⯑boards, on the doors of each of which are two or three blazonries of arms. Here are depoſited ſome parts of the dreſs and arms of an aſ⯑ſociation of Arqueſbuſiers, uſual in all the Dutch towns; the members of which ſociety aſſemble annually in October, to ſhoot at a target placed in a pavilion of the old convent garden. The markſman takes his aim from the fartheſt room; and between him and the mark are two walls, perforated two feet and a half in length, and eight inches in breadth, to permit the paſſage of the ſhot. A man ſtands in the pa⯑vilion, to tell where the ball has ſtruck; and every markſman, before he ſhoots, rings a bell, to warn this perſon out of the way. He that firſt hits a white ſpot in the target, has his liquor, for the enſuing year, free of exciſe duty; but, to render this more difficult, a ſtork is [21] ſuſpended by the legs from a ſtring, which, paſſing down the whole length of the target, is kept in continual motion by the agitation of the bird. It did not appear whether the ſtork has any other ſhare in this ancient ceremony, which is repreſented in prints of conſiderable date. It is held near the ground, out of the way of the ſhot, and is certainly not intended to be hurt, for the Dutch have no taſte for cruelty in their amuſements. The ſtork, it is alſo known, is eſteem⯑ed by them a fort of tutelary bird; as it once was in Rome, where ASELLUS SEMPRONIUS RUFUS, who firſt had them ſerved at an entertainment, is ſaid to have loſt the Praetorſhip for his ſacrilegious gluttony. In theſe trivial enquiries we paſſed our firſt evening at Delft.

Early the next morning, a battalion of regular troops was reviewed upon a ſmall plain within the walls of the town. The uniform is blue and red, in which the Dutch officers have not quite the ſmart appearance of ours. One of theſe, who gave the word to a company, was a boy, certainly not more than fifteen, whoſe ſhrill voice was lu⯑dicrouſly heard between the earneſt ſhouts of the others. The firing was very exact, which is all that we can tell of the qualities of a review.

Delft was a place of early importance in the United Provinces, being one of the ſix original cities, that ſent deputies to the States of the province; a privilege, which, at the inſtance of their glorious WILLIAM the Firſt of ORANGE, was afterwards properly extended to twelve others, including Rotterdam and the Brill. Yet it is little [22] celebrated for military events, being unfortified, and having probably always obeyed the fortune of the neighbouring places. The circum⯑ſtance which gives it a melancholy place in hiſtory, is the murder of the wiſe and beneficent Prince who founded the republic. His palace, a plain brick building, is ſtill in good repair, where ſtrangers are always ſhewn the ſtaircaſe on which he fell, and the holes made in the wall by the ſhot that killed him. The old man, who keeps the houſe, told the ſtory with as much agitation and intereſt as if it had happened yeſterday. ‘"The prince and princeſs came out of that chamber—here ſtood the prince, here ſtood the murderer; when the prince ſtepped here to ſpeak to him about the paſſport, the villain fired, and the prince fell all along here and died. Yes, ſo it was—there are the holes the balls made."’ Over one of theſe, which is large enough to admit two fingers, is this inſcription:

‘"Hier onder ſtaen de Teykenen der Kooglen daar meede Prins Willem van Orange is doorſchootten op 10 July, A. 1584."’

To this deteſtable action the aſſaſſin acknowledged himſelf to have been inſtigated by the proclamation of Philip the Second, offering a reward for its perpetration. The princeſs, who had the wretched⯑neſs to witneſs it, had loſt her father and her former huſband in the maſſacre of St. Bartholomew in France, which, though contrived by Catherine and Charles the Ninth of that country, is believed to have been the conſequence of their interview at Bayonne, with Iſabella, the wife of the ſame Philip.

The melancholy excited on this ſpot is continued by paſſing from [23] it to the tomb of WILLIAM, in the great church, called the Nieuwe Kerk. There the gloomy pageantry of the black eſcutcheons, above a choir, ſilent, empty and vaſt, and the withering remains of colours, won by hands long ſince gone to their decay, prolong the conſidera⯑tion of the tranſientneſs of human worth and happineſs, which can ſo eaſily be deſtroyed by the command, or the hand of human villainy.

This tomb is thought to be not exceeded by any piece of ſepul⯑chral grandeur in Europe. Standing alone, in a wide choir, it is much more conſpicuous and ſtriking than a monumental fabrick raiſed againſt a wall, at the ſame time that its ſides are ſo varied as to preſent each a new ſpectacle. It was begun in 1609, by order of the States General, and completed in 1621; the artiſt, HENDRIK DE KEYZER, receiving 28,000 florins as its price, and 2000 more as a preſent. The length is 20 feet, the breadth 15, and height 27. A bronze ſtatue of the prince, ſitting in full armour, with his ſword, ſcarf, and commander's ſtaff, renders one ſide the chief; on the other is his effigy in white marble, lying at full length; and at his feet, in the ſame marble, the figure of the dog, which is ſaid to have refuſed food from the moment of its maſter's death. Round the tomb, twenty⯑two columns of veined or black Italian marble, of the Doric order, and, with baſes and capitals of white marble, ſupport a roof or canopy, ornamented with many emblems, and with the achievements of the prince.

At the corners, are the ſtatues of Religion, Liberty, Juſtice, and [24] Fortitude, of which the firſt reſts upon a piece of black marble, on which is inſcribed in golden letters the name of CHRIST; and the ſe⯑cond holds a cap, with the inſcription Aurea Libertas. On the four ſides of the canopy are the devices of the prince, with the inſcriptions JEHOVAH.—Je maintiendrai Pièté et Juſtice.—Te vindice, tuta liber⯑tas.—And, Soevis tranquillus in undis.

There are many other ornaments, which give dignity or elegance to the ſtructure, but cannot be deſcribed without tediouſneſs. The well-known Epitaph is certainly worth tranſcribing:

D. O. M. et eternae memoriae Gulielmi Naſſoviae, ſupremi Auran⯑ſionenſium Principis, Patr. patriae, qui Belgii fortunis ſuas poſthabuit et ſuorum; validiſſimos exercitus aere plurimum privato bis conſcrip⯑ſit, bis induxit; ordinum auſpiciis Hiſpaniae tyrannidem propulit; verae religionis cultum, avitas patriae leges revocavit, reſtituit; ipſam denique libertatem tantum non aſſertam, Mauritio principi, paternae virtutis haeredi filio, ſtabiliendam reliquit. Herois vere pii, pruden⯑tis, invicti, quem Philip. II. Hiſp. R. Europae timor, timuit; non do⯑muit, non terruit; ſed empto percuſſore fraude nefanda ſuſtulit; Faederat. Belgii provinc. perenni memor. monum. fec.

‘"To GOD the beſt and higheſt, and to the eternal memory of William of Naſſau, Sovereign Prince of Orange, the father of his country, whoſe welfare he preferred to that of himſelf and his fa⯑mily; who, chiefly at his own expence, twice levied and introduced a powerful army; under the ſanction of the States repelled the ty⯑ranny of Spain; recovered and reſtored the ſervice of true religion [25] and the ancient laws of the country; and finally left the liberty, which he had himſelf aſſerted, to be eſtabliſhed by his ſon, Prince Maurice, the heir of his father's virtues. The Confederated Belgic Provinces have erected this monument, in perpetual memory of this truly pious, prudent and unconquered Hero, whom Philip II. King of Spain, the dread of Europe, dreaded; never overcame, never ter⯑rified; but, with wicked treachery, carried off by means of an hired aſſaſſin."’

The tomb of GROTIUS is in the ſame church, which is a ſtately building of brick and ſtone, but has nothing of the ‘"dim religious light,"’ that ſooths the mind in Gothic ſtructures. Upon the ſteeple are many ſmall bells, the chimes rung upon which are particularly eſteemed, both for tone and tune.

On the oppoſite ſide of a very large market-place is the town⯑houſe, an old building, but ſo freſh and ſo fantaſtic with paint, as to have ſome reſemblance to a Chineſe temple. The body is coloured with a light, or yellowiſh brown, and is two ſtories high to the roof, in which there are two tier of peaked windows, each under its ornament of gilded wood, carved into an awkward reſemblance of ſhells. Upon the front is inſcribed, ‘"Delphenſium Curia Reparata,"’ and im⯑mediately over the door ‘"Reparata 1761."’

The Oude Kerk, or Old Church, is in another part of the town, and is not remarkable, except for the tombs of LEUWENHOEK, PETER HEINE and VAN TROMP. That of LEUWENHOEK has a ſhort in⯑ſcription, in Latin almoſt as bad as that of a verſe epitaph upon [26] GROTIUS in the other church. He was born, it appears, in Octo⯑ber 1632, and died in Auguſt 1723. The tombs of HEINE and VAN TROMP are very handſome. There are the effigies of both in white marble, and one of the victories gained by the latter is repreſented in alto relievo. On account of the tombs, both churches are open, during certain hours in the day; and a beadle, or, perhaps, an alms⯑man, is placed in each, who preſents a padlocked box, into which money may be put for the poor.

In this town is the chief arſenal of the province of Holland, except that the magazine of powder is at the diſtance of about a mile from it, near the canal to Rotterdam. In 1787, when the diſſenſions between the STATES GENERAL and the PRINCE of ORANGE were at their height, a provincial free corps ſeized this arſenal, and held it for the States till the return of the PRINCE of ORANGE to the Hague, a few weeks afterwards.

Having ſeen what was pointed out to our notice at Delft, and learned that its extenſiveneſs was owing to the reſidence of a great number of retired merchants from Rotterdam, we left it in a trecht⯑ſchuyt for the Hague, having little other notion of it in our minds, than that it is very dull and very rich, and of a ſize, for which there is no recompenſe to a ſtranger, except in conſidering, that its dullneſs is the reſt of thoſe, who have once been buſy, and that its riches are at leaſt not employed in aggravating the miſeries of poverty by oſtentation.

THE HAGUE.

A VOYAGE of an hour and a half brought us here over a ca⯑nal well bordered by country houſes and gardens, all of which, as in other parts of Holland, have ſome inſcription upon their gates, to ſay, that they are pleaſant, or are intended for pleaſure. Fine Sight, Pleaſant Reſt, High Delight, or ſome ſimilar inſcription, is to be ſeen over the door of every country houſe, in gold letters. On our way, we looked for Ryſwick, where the treaty of 1697 was ſigned, and ſaw the village, but not the palace, which, being of free ſtone, is men⯑tioned as a ſort of curioſity in the country. It is this palace, which is ſaid to contain proofs of an extraordinary diſpute upon queſtions of ceremony. The Ambaſſadors, ſent to prepare the treaty, are re⯑lated to have contended ſo long, concerning their rights of precedence, that the only mode of reconciling them was to make ſeparate en⯑trances, and to allow the Mediating Miniſter alone admiſſion by the principal gate.

From the trechtſchuyt we had a long walk to our inn, an handſome houſe, ſtanding almoſt in the midſt of palaces, and looking over a noble ſheet of water, called the Vyver, which extends behind the Court, for its whole length, flowing nearly to the level of the lower windows. [28] The Court itſelf, a large brick building, irregular, but light and plea⯑ſant, was entirely within our view, on the left; on the right, a row of magnificent houſes, ſeparated from the Vyver by a large mall; and, in front, beyond the Vyver, a broad place, bordered by ſeveral public buildings. In this Court all the ſuperior colleges of government have their chambers, and the PRINCE of ORANGE his ſuite of apartments. The foſſé, which ſurrounds it, three drawbridges and as many gates are the only fortifications of the Hague, which has been ſeveral times threatened with the entrance of an enemy, but has not been taken ſince 1595, when the magiſtrates of the then infant republic, and all the ſuperior inhabitants, retired to Delft, leaving the ſtreets to be over-run with graſs, and the place to become a deſert under the eyes of its oppreſſors. During the invaſion of LOUIS the FOURTEENTH, it eſcaped the ravages of the DUKE of LUXEMBOURG's column, by the ſudden diſſolution of the ice, on which he had placed 9000 foot and 2000 cavalry. Yet the advice of WILLIAM the THIRD, who probably thought money better expended in ſtrengthening the fron⯑tier than the interior of the country, counteracted a plan of fortifica⯑tion, which was then propoſed, for the third or fourth time.

The Court conſiſts of two ſquares; in the inner of which are the apartments of the STADTHOLDER, and none but himſelf and his family can enter this in carriages, or on horſeback. On the northern ſide, in the firſt floor, are the apartments of the STATES GENERAL, which we ſaw. The principal one is ſpacious, as a room, but has not the air of a hall of debate. Twenty-ſix chairs for the Deputies are placed [29] on two ſides of a long table: the Preſident, whoſe chair is in the centre, has on his right hand, firſt, a Deputy of his own province, then three Deputies of Frieſland, and two of Groningen; on his left, ſix Deputies of Holland; oppoſite to him, neareſt to the head of the table, ſix Deputies of Guelderland, then three of Zealand, then two of Utrecht, and two of Overyſſel. The STADTHOLDER, who has a place, but not a vote, has a raiſed chair at the upper end of the table; the Secretary is ſeated oppoſite to him, and is allowed to wear his hat, like the Deputies, during their deliberations, but muſt ſtand uncovered, behind the Preſident, when he reads letters, or other papers. The number of Deputies is known to be indefinite; about fifty are gene⯑rally returned; and thoſe, who are preſent from each province, more than the number allowed at the table, place themſelves below it. The walls of this room are covered with tapeſtry, not repreſenting hiſto⯑rical events, but rural ſcenery; the backs and ſeats of the chairs are of green velvet; and all the furniture, though ſtately and in the beſt condition, is without the leaſt approach to ſhew. Theſe apartments, and the whole of this ſide of the Court, were the reſidence of CHARLES the FIFTH, when he viſited the Hague, and of the EARL of LEICESTER, when he commanded the troops lent to the Republic by ELIZABETH.

The government of the United Provinces is too well known to permit a detailed deſcription here, but ſome notice may reaſonably be expected of it.

The chief depoſitaries of the ſovereignty are not the States Gene⯑ral, but the Provincial States, of whoſe Deputies the former body is [30] compoſed, and without whoſe conſent they never vote upon important meaſures. In the States General each Province has one vote; which, with the reaſons for it, may be delivered by an unlimited number of Deputies; and the firſt Deputy of each province preſides in the States by rotation for a week. In queſtions relative to peace or war, alliances, taxes, coinages, and to the privileges of provinces, no meaſures can be taken but by unanimous conſent; upon other occaſions, a majority is ſufficient. No perſons holding military offices can be Deputies to the States General, which appoints and receives all am⯑baſſadors, declares war, makes peace, and names the Greffier, or Se⯑cretary of State, and all Staff Officers.

The Provincial States are variouſly compoſed, and the interior go⯑vernments of the provinces variouſly formed. In the province of Holland, which contains the moſt proſperous part of the Republic, there are eighteen Deputies to the Provincial States, for as many towns, and one for the nobility. The Grand Penſionary preſides in this aſſembly, and is always one of the Deputies from it to the States General.

The Council of Deputies is compoſed of ten members: nine from the towns, and one from the nobility. This Council, in which the Grand Penſionary alſo preſides, regulates the finances of the pro⯑vince, and takes cognizance of the diſtribution of troops within it.

The Council, called the Council of State, is compoſed, like the States General, of Deputies returned from the provinces, and ap⯑pears to be to that body, in a great meaſure, what the Council of [31] Deputies is to the Provincial States, having the direction of the army and the finances.

As provincial affairs are directed by the Provincial States, ſo the affairs of each town are governed by its own Senate, which alſo re⯑turns the members, if the town is entitled to ſend one, to the States of the Province, and directs the vote, which that member ſhall give. The Burgomaſters in each town are the magiſtrates charged with the police and the finances, and are uſually elected annually by the old Council, that is, by thoſe who have been Burgomaſters, or Echevins. Theſe latter officers have the adminiſtration of civil and criminal af⯑fairs, and are, in ſome places, appointed by the Stadtholder from a double number nominated to him; in others, are accepted from the recommendation of the Stadholder. The Bailiffs preſide in the Coun⯑cil of Burgomaſters and Echevins; and in their name proſecutions are inſtituted.

Of the Deputies to the States General, ſome are for life, and ſome for one or more years.

Such is the nicely complicated frame of this government, in which the Senates of the Towns elect the Provincial States, and the Provincial States the States General; the latter body being incapable of deciding in certain caſes, except with unanimity and with the expreſs conſent of their conſtituents, the Provincial States; who again cannot give that conſent, except with unanimity and with the conſent of their conſtituents, the Senates.

[32] The Stadtholder, it is ſeen, has not directly, and in conſequence of that office, any ſhare of the legiſlative power; but, being a Noble of four provinces, he, of courſe, participates in that part of the ſove⯑reignty, which the Nobility enjoy when they ſend Deputies to the Pro⯑vincial States. Of Zealand he is the only Noble, all the other titled families having been deſtroyed in the original conteſt with Spain; and there are no renewals or creations of titles in the United Provinces. In Guelderland, Holland, and Utrecht, he is Preſident of the Nobles. He is Commander of all the Forces of the Republic by ſea and land; and the Council of State, of which he is a member, is, in military af⯑fairs, almoſt entirely under his direction; he names all ſubaltern offi⯑cers, and recommends thoſe for higher appointments to the States General. In Guelderland, Utrecht, and overyſſel, which are called Provinces aux Reglemens, becauſe, having ſubmitted to LOUIS the FOURTEENTH, in 1672, they were not re-admitted to the Union, but with ſome ſacrifice of their privileges, he appoints to offices, without the nomination of the cities; he is Governor General of the Eaſt and Weſt Indian Companies, and names all the Directors from a treble number of candidates offered by the Proprietors. His name preſides in all the courts of law; and his heart, it may be hoped, dictates in the noble right of pardoning.

This is the eſſential form of a government, which, for two centu⯑ries, has protected as great a ſhare of civil and religious liberty as has been enjoyed in any other part of Europe, reſiſting equally the [33] chances of diſſolution, contained within itſelf; and the leſs dangerous ſchemes for its deſtruction, dictated by the jealouſy of arbitrary in⯑tereſts without.

Its intricacy and delicacy are eaſily ſeen; yet, of the objections made to it on this account, more are founded on ſome maxims, aſ⯑ſumed to be univerſal, than upon the ſeparate conſiderations due to the condition of a ſeparate people. How much the means of politi⯑cal happineſs depend, for their effect, upon the civil characters of thoſe for whom they are deſigned, has been very little ſeen, or in⯑ſiſted upon. It has been unnoticed, becauſe ſuch enquiries have not the brilliancy, or the facility, of general ſpeculations, nor can com⯑mand equal attention, nor equally reward ſyſtems with thoſe parts of their importance, that conſiſt in the immenſity of the ſphere, to which they pretend. To extend their arms is the flagitious ambition of war⯑riors; to enlarge their ſyſtems is the ambition of writers, eſpecially of political writers. A juſter effort of underſtanding would aim at rendering the application of principles more exact, rather than more extenſive, and would produce enquiries into the circumſtances of na⯑tional character and condition, that ſhould regulate that application. A more modeſt eſtimate of human means of doing good would ſhew the gradations, through which all human advances muſt be made. A more ſevere integrity of views would ſtipulate, that the means ſhould be as honeſt as the end, and would ſtrive to aſcertain, from the mo⯑ral and intellectual character of a people, the degree of political hap⯑pineſs, of which they are capable; a proceſs, without which projected [34] advances become obſtructions; and the philoſopher begins his expe⯑riment, for the amelioration of ſociety, as prematurely as the ſculptor would poliſh his ſtatue before he had delineated the features.

Whether the conſtitution of the United Provinces is exactly as good an one as the people are capable of enjoying can be deter⯑mined only after a much longer and abler enquiry than we could make; but it ſeemed proper to obſerve, that, in judging this queſtion, it is not enough to diſcover better forms of government, without find⯑ing alſo ſome reaſon to believe, that the intellectual and moral condi⯑tion of the people would ſecure the exiſtence of thoſe better forms. In the mean time, they, who make the enquiry, may be aſſured, that, under the preſent ^* government, there is a conſiderable degree of political liberty, though political happineſs is not permitted by the preſent circumſtances of Europe; that the general adoption of the Stadtholder's meaſures by the States has been unduly mentioned to ſhew an immoderate influence, for that, in point of fact, his meaſures are often rejected; that this rejection produces no public agitation, nor can thoſe, who differ from him in opinion, be ſucceſsfully re⯑preſented as enemies to their country; that there are very few offices, which enable private perſons to become rich, at the expence of the public, ſo as to have a different intereſt from them; that the ſober in⯑duſtry and plain manners of the people prevent them from looking to political conduct of any ſort as a means of improving their for⯑tunes; that, for theſe reaſons, the intricate connections between the [35] parts of their government are leſs inconvenient than may be ſuppoſed, ſince good meaſures will not be obſtructed, or bad ones ſupported, for corrupt purpoſes, though miſconceptions may ſometimes produce nearly the ſame effect; that converſation is perfectly free; and that the habit of watching the ſtrength of parties, for the purpoſe of join⯑ing the ſtrongeſt and perſecuting the weakeſt, does not occupy the minds of any numerous claſſes amongſt them.

We ſaw no other apartments than thoſe of the States General, the PRINCE of ORANGE being then in his own. The Princeſs was at a ſeat in Guelderland, with her daughter-in-law, the wife of the Here⯑ditary Prince, who had been indiſpoſed ſince the ſurpriſe of the Dutch troops at Menin, on the 12th of September 1793, in which affair her huſband was engaged. When the officer, who brought the firſt accounts, which were not written, to the Hague, had related that the younger prince was wounded, the Hereditary Princeſs enquired, with great eagerneſs, concerning his brother. The officer indiſcreetly re⯑plied, that he knew nothing of him; which the Princeſs ſuppoſed to imply, that he was dead; and ſhe has ſince been ſomewhat an invalid.

Though the ſalaries enjoyed by the Prince of Orange, in conſe⯑quence of his offices, are by no means conſiderable, he is enabled, by his patrimonial eſtates, to maintain ſome modeſt ſplendour. The Court is compoſed of a grand maſter, a marſhal, a grand equerry, ten chamberlains, five ladies of honour, and ſix gentlemen of the chamber. Ten young men, with the title of pages, are educated at the expence of the Prince, in a houſe adjoining his manege. As [36] Captain-General, he is allowed eight adjutants, and, as Admiral, three.

We could not learn the amount of the income enjoyed by the PRINCE of ORANGE, which muſt, indeed, be very variable, ariſing chiefly from his own eſtates. The greater part of theſe are in the pro⯑vince of Zealand, where ſeventeen villages and part of the town of Breda are his property. The fortifications of ſeveral places there are ſaid to have been chiefly erected at the expence of the Orange family. His farms in that neighbourhood ſuffered greatly in the campaign of 1792, and this part of his income has ſince been much diminiſhed. The management of his revenues, derived from poſſeſſions in Ger⯑many, affords employment to four or five perſons, at an Office, ſepa⯑rate from his ordinary Treaſury; and he had eſtates in the Low Coun⯑tries. All this is but the wreck of a fortune, honourably diminiſhed by William the Firſt of Orange, in the conteſt with Spain; the re⯑membrance of whom may, perhaps, involuntarily influence one's opinion of his ſucceſſors.

During May, the weſtern gate of the palace is ornamented, ac⯑cording to antient cuſtom, with garlands for each perſon of the Orange family. Chaplets, with the initials of each, in flowers, are placed under large coronets, upon green flag-ſtaffs. We paſſed by when they were taking theſe down, and perceived that all the ornaments could ſcarcely have coſt five ſhillings. So humble are the Dutch no⯑tions of pageantry.

Among the offices included within the walls of the court is a printing-houſe, in which the STATES GENERAL and the States [37] of Holland employ only perſons ſworn to ſecrecy as to the papers committed to them. It may ſeem ſtrange to require ſecrecy from thoſe, whoſe art is chiefly uſeful in conferring publicity; but the truth is, that many papers are printed here, which are never commu⯑nicated to the public, the States employing the preſs for the ſake of its cheapneſs, and conſidering that any of their members, who would ſhew a printed paper, would do the ſame with a written one.

In a large ſquare, near the court, is the cabinet of natural hiſtory, of which we have not the knowledge neceſſary for giving a deſcrip⯑tion. It is arranged in ſmall rooms, which are opened, at twelve o'clock, to thoſe, who have applied the day before. One article, ſaid to be very rare, and certainly very beautiful, was an animal of the Deer ſpecies, about fourteen inches high, exquiſitely ſhaped and marked, and believed to be at its full growth. It was brought from the coaſt of Africa.

The Stadtholder's library was accidentally ſhut, owing to the ill⯑neſs of the librarian; the picture gallery was open, but of paintings we have reſolved to exempt our readers from any mention. The former is ſaid to contain eight thouſand volumes, and fourteen thouſand prints in portfolios. Among the illuminated M SS. in vel⯑lum is one, uſed by the ſanguinary Catherine De Medicis and her children; and another, which belonged to Iſabella of Caſtille, the grandmother of Charles the Fifth. What muſt be oddly placed in a library is a ſuit of armour of Francis the Firſt, which was once in the cabinet of Chriſtina of Sweden. Though this collection is the pri⯑vate [38] property of the Prince, the librarian is permitted to lend books to perſons, known to him and likely to uſe them advantageouſly for ſcience.

We paſſed a long morning in walking through the ſtreets of this place, which contain probably more magnificent houſes than can be found in the ſame ſpace in any city of Northern Europe. The Grand Voorhout is rather, indeed, two ſeries of palaces than a ſtreet. Be⯑tween two broad carriage-ways, which paſs immediately along the ſides, are ſeveral alleys of tall lime trees, canopying walks, firſt laid out by Charles the Fifth, in 1536, and ordered to be carefully pre⯑ſerved, the placard being ſtill extant, which directs the puniſhment of offenders againſt them. It would be tedious to mention the many ſplendid buildings in this and the neighbouring ſtreets. Among the moſt conſpicuous is the preſent reſidence of the Britiſh Ambaſſadors, built by HUGUETAN, the celebrated banker of LOUIS the FOUR⯑TEENTH, and that of the Ruſſian Miniſter, which was erected by the Penſionary BARNEVELDT. But the building, which was intended to exceed all others at the Hague, is the Hotel of the Prince of NASSAU WEILBOURG; who, having married the ſiſter of the Prince of ORANGE, bought, at an immenſe expence, eight good houſes, facing the Voorhout, in order to erect upon their ſcite a magnificent palace. What has been already built of this is extremely fine, in the creſcent form; but a German, arriving to the expenditure of a Dutch fortune, probably did not eſtimate it by Dutch prices. It was begun eighteen years ſince, and, for the laſt twelve, has not proceeded.

[39] Superb public buildings occur at almoſt every ſtep through the Hague. At one end of the terrace, on which we were lodged, is the Doelen, a ſpacious manſion, opening partly upon the Tournois Veld, or Place of Tournaments. The burgeſſes here keep their colours, and, what is remarkable, ſtill preſerve the inſignia of the Toiſon d'Or, given to them by CHARLES the FIFTH. Our WILLIAM the THIRD being admitted, at ten years of age, to the right of a burgeſs here, was inveſted with this order by the Burgomaſter. At the other end of the terrace is the palace, built for Prince MAURICE of NASSAU, up⯑on his return from the government of Brazil, by KAMPFEN, Lord of Rambroek, architect of the Stadthouſe at Amſterdam. The in⯑terior of this building was deſtroyed by fire, in the commencement of the preſent century; but, the ſtately walls of ſtone and brick being uninjured, the rooms were reſtored by the proprietors, aſſiſted by a lottery. It is an inſtance of the abundance of buildings here, that this palace is now chiefly uſed as a place of meeting, for the oeconomical branch of the ſociety of Haerlem, and for a ſociety, inſtituted here, for the encouragement of Dutch poetry.

The number of public buildings is much increaſed by the houſes, which the eighteen towns provide for their Deputies, ſent to the States of the Province. Theſe are called the Logements of the ſe⯑veral towns; and there has been a great deal of emulation, as to their magnificence. Amſterdam and Rotterdam have the fineſt.

The churches are not remarkable for antiquity, or grandeur. A congregation of Engliſh Proteſtants have their worſhip performed, in [40] the manner of the Diſſenters, in a ſmall chapel near the Vyver, where we had the ſatisfaction to hear their venerable paſtor, the Rev. Dr. M'CLEAN.

The reſidence of a Court at the Hague renders the appearance of the inhabitants leſs national and characteriſtic than elſewhere. There are few perſons in the ſtreets, who, without their orange cockades, might not be miſtaken for Engliſh; but ribbons of this colour are almoſt univerſal, which ſome wear in their hats, and ſome upon a button-hole of the coat. The pooreſt perſons, and there are more poor here than elſewhere, find ſomething orange-coloured to ſhew. Chil⯑dren have it placed upon their caps; ſo that the practice is carried to an extent as ridiculous, as the prohibition was in 1785, when the ma⯑giſtrates ordered, that nothing orange-coloured ſhould be worn, or ſhewn, not even fruits, or flowers, and that carrots ſhould not be expoſed to ſale with the ends outwards.

The diſtinctions between political claſſes are very ſtrongly marked and preſerved in Holland. We were informed, that there are ſome villages, in which the wearing of a cockade, and others, in which the want of one, would expoſe a paſſenger, eſpecially a native, to in⯑ſults. In the cities, where thoſe of both parties muſt tranſact buſineſs together, the diſtinction is not much obſerved. In Amſterdam, the friends of the Stadtholder do not wear cockades. For the moſt part, the ſeamen, farmers and labouring claſſes in the towns are attached to the Orange family, whoſe opponents are chiefly compoſed of the opulent merchants and tradeſmen.

[41] A hiſtory, or even a deſcription of the two parties, if we were enabled to give it, would occupy too much ſpace here; but it may be ſhortly mentioned, that the original, or chief cauſe of the diſſenſion was, as might be expected, entirely of a commercial nature. The Eng⯑liſh intereſt had an unanimous popularity in Holland, about the year 1750. In the war of 1756, the French, having ſuſtained a great loſs of ſhipping, employed Dutch veſſels to bring the produce of their American iſlands to Europe, and thus eſtabliſhed a conſiderable con⯑nection with the merchants of Amſterdam and Rotterdam. The Court of Verſailles took care, that the ſtream of French wealth, which they ſaw ſetting into the United Provinces, ſhould carry with it ſome French politics; while the wealth itſelf effected more than all their contrivance, and gradually produced a kindneſs for France, eſpecially in the province of Holland, through which it chiefly circulated. The Engliſh Miniſters took all Dutch ſhips, having French property on board; and the popularity of England was for a time deſtroyed. Se⯑veral maritime towns, probably with ſome inſtigation from France, demanded a war againſt England. The friends of the Stadtholder prevented this; and from that time the Prince began to ſhare what⯑ever unpopularity the meaſures of the Engliſh Miniſters, or the in⯑duſtry of the Engliſh traders, could excite in a rival and a commercial country.

The capture of the French Weſt India iſlands ſoon after removed the cauſe of the diſpute; but the effects of it ſurvived in the jealouſy of the great cities towards the Stadtholder, and were much aggravated [42] by the loſſes of their merchants, at the commencement of hoſtilities be⯑tween England and the United Provinces, in 1780. The Dutch fleet being then unprepared to ſail, and every thing, which could float, having been ſent out of the harbours of Yorkſhire and Lincoln⯑ſhire to intercept their trading ſhips, the fortunes of many of the moſt opulent houſes in Holland were ſeverely ſhook, and all their mem⯑bers became the enemies of the Stadtholder.

If to theſe circumſtances it is added, that the province of Holland, which pays fifty-eight parts of every hundred, levied by taxes, has an ambition for acquiring greater influence in the general government, than is beſtowed by its ſingle vote, we have probably all the original cauſes of the party diſtinctions in Holland, though others may have been incorporated with others, during a long ſeries of events and many violent ſtruggles of the paſſions.

The Stadtholder, who has had the misfortune to attract ſo much attention by his difficulties, is ſaid to be a man of plain manners and ſound underſtanding, neither capable of political intrigue, nor inclined to it. His office requires, eſpecially during a war, a great deal of ſubſtantial, perſonal labour, to which he devotes himſelf earneſtly and continually, but which he has not the vigour to bear, without an evi⯑dent oppreſſion of ſpirits. We ſaw him at a parade of the Guards, and it is not neceſſary to be told of his labours to perceive how much he is affected by them. It is ſcarcely poſſible to conceive a countenance more expreſſive of a mind, always urged, always preſſed upon, and not often receiving the relief of complete confidence in its efforts. [43] His perſon is ſhort and extremely corpulent; his air in converſation modeſt and mild. This attendance upon the parade is his chief exerciſe, or relaxation at the Hague, where he frequently paſſes ten of the hours between five in a morning and nine at night in his cabi⯑net. He comes, accompanied by one or two officers, and his pre⯑ſence produces no crowd. When we had viewed the parade and re⯑turned home, we ſaw him walking under our windows towards the Voorhout, accompanied by an officer, but not followed by a ſingle perſon.

Converſation does not turn ſo much upon the family of the Stadt⯑holder, as that we could acquire any diſtinct opinions of the other parts of it. Of his humanity and temper, there was ſufficient proof, in 1787, when he returned to the Hague and was maſter of the per⯑ſons of thoſe, who had lately baniſhed him. Indeed, the conduct of both parties, with reſpect to the perſonal ſafety of their adverſaries, was honourable to the character of the nation. The States of Hol⯑land, during the prevalence of their authority, did not pretend, ac⯑cording to the injuſtice of ſimilar caſes, to any right of deſtroying the friends of the Stadtholder, who were in their hands; the Stadtholder, when he returned, and when the public deteſtation of his adverſaries was at an height, which would have permitted any meaſures againſt them, demanded no other retribution, than that ſeventeen, named in a lift, ſhould be declared incapable of holding offices under the Re⯑public.

One of the beſt excurſions from the Hague is made to the Maiſon [44] du Bois, a ſmall palace of the Prince of ORANGE, in a wood, which commences almoſt at the northern gate of the town. This wood is called a park, but it is open to the public roads from Leyden, Haer⯑lem and Amſterdam, which paſs through its noble alleys of oak and beech. It is remarkable for having ſo much attracted the re⯑gard of Philip the Second, that, in the campaign of 1574, he or⯑dered his officers not to deſtroy it; and is probably the only thing, not deſtined for himſelf, of which this ample deſtroyer of human kind and of his own family ever directed the preſervation. LOUIS the FOURTEENTH, probably having heard the praiſes of this care, left the mall of Utrecht to be a monument of ſimilar tenderneſs, dur⯑ing an unprovoked invaſion, which coſt ten thouſand lives.

The apartments of the Maiſon du Bois are very variouſly fur⯑niſhed. The beſt are fitted up with a light grey ſattin, imboſſed with Chineſe birds and plants, in ſilk and feathers of the moſt beautiful tints; the window curtains, ſcreens and coverings of the ſophas and chairs are the ſame, and the frames of the latter are alſo of Chineſe workmanſhip. Nothing more delicate and taſteful can be conceived; but, that you may not be quite diſtracted with admira⯑tion, the carpets are ſuch as an Engliſh merchant would ſcarcely receive into a parlour. The furniture of the ſtate bed-chamber is valuable, and has once been ſplendid; a light baluſtrade of curious Japan work, about three feet high, runs acroſs the room, and di⯑vides that part, in which the bed ſtands, from the remainder. The Princeſs's drawing-room, in which card parties are ſometimes [45] held, is well embelliſhed with paintings, and may be called a ſu⯑perb apartment; but here again there is an inſtance of the incom⯑pleteneſs, ſaid to be obſervable in the furniture of all rooms, out of England. Of four card tables two are odd ones, and literally would be deſpiſed in a broker's ſhop in London. The great glory of the houſe is the Salle d'Orange, an oblong ſaloon of noble height, with pannels, painted by nine celebrated painters of the Flemiſh and Dutch ſchools, among whom VAN TULDEN, a pupil of RUBENS, has obſerved his manner ſo much in a workſhop of Vulcan and in a figure of Venus forming a trophy, that they have been uſually at⯑tributed to his maſter. The ſubjects on the pannels and ceiling are all allegorical, and complimentary, for the moſt part, to the Princes of the Houſe of Orange, eſpecially to FREDERIC HENRY, the ſon of the firſt WILLIAM and the grandſon of the Admiral COLIGNY. It was at the expence of his widow, that the houſe was built and the ſaloon thus ornamented.

Almoſt all the rooms are decorated with family portraits, of which ſome have juſt been contributed by the pencil of the Hereditary Princeſs. A large piece repreſents herſelf, taking a likeneſs of the Princeſs her mother-in-law, and includes what is ſaid to be an ad⯑mirable portrait of her huſband. On the ſix doors of the grand cabinet are ſix whole lengths of ladies of the Houſe of Orange, ex⯑hibited in allegorical characters. The doors being covered by the paintings, when that, by which you have entered, is ſhut, you can⯑not tell the way back again. A portrait of LOUISA DE COLIGNY, [46] the widow of William the Firſt, is enriched with a painter's pun; ſhe is preſented by Hope with a branch of an orange tree, contain⯑ing only one orange; from which the ſpectator is to learn, that her ſon was her only hope.

The moſt delightful outlet from the Hague is towards Schevening, a village on the ſea-ſhore, nearly two miles diſtant, the road to which has been often and properly celebrated as a noble monument of taſteful grandeur. Commencing at the canal, which ſurrounds the Hague, it proceeds to the village through a viſta ſo exactly ſtraight, that the ſteeple of Schevening, the central object at the end of it, is viſible at the firſt entrance. Four rows of lofty elms are planted along the road, of which the two central lines form this perfect and moſt pictureſque viſta; the others ſhelter paths on each ſide of it, for foot paſſengers.

The village itſelf, containing two or three hundred houſes of fiſher⯑men and peaſants, would be a ſpectacle, for its neatneſs, any where but in Holland. There is no ſquare, or ſtreet of the moſt magnificent houſes in London, that can equal it for an univerſal appearance of freſhneſs. It is poſitively bright with cleanlineſs; though its only ſtreet opens upon the ſea, and is the reſort of hundreds of fiſher⯑men. We paſſed a moſt delightful day at a little inn upon the beach, ſometimes looking into the hiſtory of the village, which is very antient; then enquiring into its preſent condition; and then enjoy⯑ing the proſpect of the ocean, boundleſs to our view, on one ſide, and appearing to be but feebly reſtrained by a long tract of low white coaſt on the other.

[47] The ſea beats furiouſly upon the beach here, which has no doubt been much raiſed by art for the defence of the village. There is at leaſt no other way of accounting for its ſecurity, ſince 1574, be⯑tween which year and the latter end of the preceding century, it ſuſ⯑tained ſix inundations. The firſt, in 1470, demoliſhed a church; the laſt waſhed away an hundred and twenty houſes; notwithſtand⯑ing which, the inhabitants built again upon their ſtormy ſhore; and their induſtry, that, at length, protected them from the ſea, enabled them to endure alſo the more inveterate ravages of the Spaniards. On this beach lie occaſionally great numbers of herring buſſes, too ſtoutly built to be injured by touching it. We ſuſpect our information to have been exaggerated; but we heard on the ſpot, that no leſs than one hundred and five belong to this village of little more than two hundred houſes, or are managed by agents in it. About forty were ſet on float by the tide in the afternoon, and, being hauled by means of anchors beyond a very heavy ſurf, were out of ſight, before we left the place.

It was amuſing to ſee the perſevering, effectual, but not very ac⯑tive exertions of the ſeamen in this buſineſs, which could not often be more difficult than it then was, when a ſtrong wind blew directly upon the ſhore. We here firſt perceived, what we had many other opportunities of obſerving, that, notwithſtanding the general admira⯑tion of Dutch induſtry, it is of a nature which would ſcarcely acquire that name in England. A Dutchman of the labouring claſs is, in⯑deed, ſeldom ſeen unemployed; but we never obſerved one man [48] working hard, according to the Engliſh notion of the term. Perſever⯑ance, carefulneſs, and ſteadineſs are theirs, beyond any rivalſhip; the vehemence, force, activity and impatience of an Engliſh ſailor, or work⯑man, are unknown to them. You will never ſee a Dutchman en⯑during the fatigue, or enjoying the reſt, of a London porter. Heavy burthens, indeed, they do not carry. At Amſterdam, where car⯑riages are even ſomewhat obnoxious, a caſk, holding four or five gallons of liquor, is removed by a horſe and a ſledge.

On our way from Schevening, where a dinner coſts more than at an hotel in the Hague, we turned a little to the right to ſee Portland Gardens, once the favourite reſort of William and Mary; and ſaid to be laid out in the Engliſh taſte. They are now a bad ſpecimen even of Dutch gardens. The ſituation is unuſually low, having on one hand the raiſed bank of the Schevening road, and, on another, the ſand hills of the coaſt. Between theſe, the moiſture of the ſea air is held for a long time, and finally drawn down upon the earth. The artificial ornaments are ſtained and decaying; and the graſs and weeds of the neglected plots are capable only of a putrid green. Over walks of a black mould you are led to the orangery, where there is more decay, and may look through the windows of the green-houſe, to perceive how every thing is declining there. Some pavilions, provided with water ſpouts, are then to be ſeen; and, if you have the patience to wait the concluſion of an operation, intended to ſurpriſe you, you may count how many of the pipes refuſe to perform their office.

Nearer to the Hague, we were ſtopped to pay a toll of a few [49] doights; a circumſtance which was attended with this proof of civility. Having paſſed in the morning, without the demand, we enquired why it ſhould be made now. The gatherer replied, that he had ſeen us paſs, but, knowing that we muſt return by the ſame way, had avoided giving more trouble than was neceſſary. This tax is paid for the ſupport of the bank, or digue, over which the road paſſes; a work, begun on the 1ſt of May 1664, and finiſhed on the 5th of December 1665, by the aſſiſtance of a loan granted for the enterpriſe. The breadth of the road is thirty-two yards.

The next day, after ſeeing the relief of the Stadtholder's garde du corps, the privates of which wear feathered hats, with uniforms of ſcarlet and gold, we left the Hague, with much admiration of its pleaſantneſs and quiet grandeur, and took the roof of the trecht⯑ſchuyt for Leyden.

LEYDEN.

THREE hours pleaſant floating along a canal, adorned with frequent country houſes, gardens, ſummer-houſes and ſquare balconies, or rather platforms, projecting over the water, within an hand's breadth of its level, brought us to this city, which was eſteemed the ſecond in Holland, before Rotterdam gained its preſent extent. Leyden is, however, ſo large, that a traveller is likely to have a walk of half a league to his inn; and thoſe who arrive, as we did, at the time of the fair, may find the proceſſion not very pleaſant. We increaſed our difficulties by turning away from the dirt and in⯑civility of what was called the beſt inn, and did not afterwards find a better, though ſuch, it ſeems, might have been had.

Having, at length, become contented with the worſt, we went to⯑wards the fair, of which we had as yet ſeen only the crowd. The booths, being diſpoſed under trees and along the borders of canals, made the whole appearance differ from that of an Engliſh fair, though not quite ſo much as we had expected. The ſtock of the ſhopkeepers makes a greater diſtinction. There were ſeveral booths filled with ſilverſmiths' and jewellers' wares, to the amount of, probably, ſome thouſand pounds each. Large French clocks in or moulu and por⯑celain [51] were among their ſtores. All the trades diſplayed the moſt valuable articles, that could be aſked for in ſimilar ſhops in large cities. We had the pleaſure to ſee great quantities of Engliſh goods, and there were Engliſh names over three, or four of the booths.

The Dutch dreſſes were now become ſo familiar to us, that the crowd ſeemed as remarkable for the number of other perſons in it, as for the abundance of peaſants in their holiday finery, which, it is pleaſant to know, diſplays the ornamental relics of ſeveral generations, faſhion having very little influence in Holland. The fair occupied about a fourth part of the town, which we ſoon left to ſee the remainder. Two ſtreets, parallel to each other, run through its whole length, and include the few public halls of an Univerſity, which would ſcarcely be known to exiſt, if it had no more conſpicuous objects than its buildings. The Dutch univerſities contain no endowed foun⯑dations; ſo that the profeſſors, who have their ſalaries from the States, live in private houſes, and the ſtudents in lodgings. The academical dreſs is worn only in the ſchools, and by the profeſſors. The library, to which Joſeph Scaliger was a benefactor, is open only once in a week, and then for no more than two hours. It is the conſtant policy of the Dutch government, to make ſtrangers leave as much money as poſſible behind them; and Leyden was once ſo greatly the reſort of foreigners, that it was thought important not to let them read for nothing what they muſt otherwiſe be obliged to buy. The Univerſity is, of courſe, declining much, under this commercial wiſ⯑dom of the magiſtrates.

[52] There are ſtudents, however, of many nations and religions, no oaths being impoſed, except upon the profeſſors. Phyſic and botany eſpecially are ſaid to be cultivated here with much ſucceſs; and there is a garden, to which not only individuals, but the Eaſt India Com⯑pany, induſtriouſly contribute foreign plants. The ſalaries of the profeſſors, who receive, beſides, fees from the ſtudents, are nearly two hundred pounds a-year. The government of the Univerſity is in the rector, who is choſen out of three perſons returned by the Senate to the States; the Senate conſiſts of the profeſſors; and, on extraordi⯑nary occaſions, the Senate and Rector are directed by Curators, who are the agents for the States.

The chief ſtreet in the town is of the creſcent form, ſo that, with more public buildings, it would be a miniature reſemblance of High⯑ſtreet, Oxford. The town-houſe is built with many ſpires, and with almoſt Chineſe lightneſs. We did not ſee the interior of this, or, indeed, of any other public buildings; for, in the morning, when curioſity was to be indulged, our faſtidiouſneſs as to the inns returned, and induced us to take a paſſage for Haerlem. The MSS. of the Dutch verſion of the Bible, which are known to be depoſited here, could not have been ſhewn, being opened only once in three years, when the Deputies of the Synod and States attend; but we might have ſeen, in the town-houſe, ſome curious teſtimonies of the hard⯑ſhips and perſeverance of the inhabitants, during the celebrated blockade of five months, in 1574, in conſideration of which the Uni⯑verſity was founded.

[53] After viewing ſome well-filled bookſellers' ſhops, and one wide ſtreet of magnificent houſes, we again made half the circuit of this extenſive city, in the way to the trechtſchuyt for

HAERLEM.

THE canal between Leyden and this place is nearly the plea⯑ſanteſt of the great number, which connect all the towns of the pro⯑vince with each other, and render them to the traveller a ſeries of ſpec⯑tacles, almoſt as eaſily viſited as the amuſements of one large metropo⯑lis. Though this is ſaid to be one of the loweſt parts of Holland, the country does not appear to have ſuffered more than the reſt by water. The many country ſeats, which border the canals, are alſo proofs that it is thought to be well ſecured; yet this is the diſtrict, which has been proved, by indiſputable obſervations, to be lower than the neighbour⯑ing ſea, even in the profoundeſt calm. During the voyage, which was of four hours, we paſſed under ſeveral bridges, and ſaw num⯑bers of ſmaller canals, croſſing the country in various directions; but the paſſage of a trechtſchuyt is not delayed for an inſtant by a bridge, the tow-rope being looſened from the boat, on one ſide, and imme⯑diately caught again, on the other, if it ſhould not be delivered by ſome perſon, purpoſely ſtationed on the arch. It is not often that a [54] canal makes any bend in its courſe; when it does ſo, there are ſmall, high poſts at the point, round which the tow-rope is drawn; and, that the cord may not be deſtroyed by the friction, the poſts ſupport perpendicular rollers, which are turned by its motion. Such poſts and rollers might be advantageouſly brought into uſe in England. On moſt of the canals are half-way villages, where paſſengers may ſtop, about five minutes, for refreſhment; but they will be left be⯑hind, without any ceremony, if they exceed the limited time, which the boatman employs in exchanging letters for ſuch of the neigh⯑bouring country houſes as have not packet boxes placed on the banks.

Haerlem, like Leyden, is fortiſied by brick walls, but both ſeem to be without the ſolid earthern works, that conſtitute the ſtrength of modern fortreſſes. A few pieces of cannon are planted near the gate, in order to command the bridge of a wide foſſé; and the gate-houſe itſelf is a ſtout building, deep enough to render the paſſage under⯑neath ſomewhat dark. There is otherwiſe very little appearance of the ſtrength, that reſiſted the Duke of Alva, for twelve months, and exaſperated his deſire of vengeance ſo far, that the murder of the in⯑habitants, who at laſt ſurrendered to his promiſes of protection, could alone appeaſe it.

A narrow ſtreet leads from the gate to the market-place, where two pieces of cannon are planted before the guard-houſe; the firſt pre⯑caution againſt internal commotion, which we had ſeen in the coun⯑try. Haerlem had a great ſhare in the diſputes of 1787, and is ſaid to adhere more fully than any other city to the Anti-Stadtholderian politics of that period.

[55] The market-place is very ſpacious, and ſurrounds the great church, perhaps, the largeſt ſacred building in the province of Holland. The lofty oak roof is marked with dates of the early part of the ſixteenth century. The organ, ſometimes ſaid to be the beſt in Europe, is of unuſual ſize, but has more power of ſound than ſweetneſs. The pipes are ſilvered, and the body carefully painted; for organs are the only objects in Dutch churches, which are permitted to be ſhewy. They are now building, in the great church at Rotterdam, a rival to this inſtrument, and need not deſpair of ſurpaſſing it.

A great part of the congregation ſit upon chairs in the large aiſle, which does not ſeem to be thought a much inferior place to the other parts. During an evening ſervice, at which we were preſent, this was nearly filled; and while every perſon took a ſeparate ſeat, women carried chauffepieds, or little wooden boxes, with pans of burning peat in them, to the ladies. This was on the 4th of June. The men enter the church with their hats on, and ſome wear them, during the whole ſervice, with the moſt diſguſting and arrogant hardihood.

We paſſed a night at Haerlem, which is ſcarcely worth ſo long a ſtay, though one ſtreet, formed upon the banks of a canal, conſiſts of houſes more uniformly grand, than any out of the Hague, and ſurpriſes you with its extenſive magnificence at a place, where there is little other appearance of wealth and none of ſplendour. But the quietneſs of the Great in Holland is daily aſtoniſhing to a ſtranger, who ſome⯑times paſſes through rows of palaces, without meeting a carriage, or a ſervant. The inhabitants of thoſe palaces have, however, not leſs [56] earneſt views, than they who are more agitated; the difference between them is, that the views of the former are only ſuch as their ſituation enables them to gratify, without the agitation of the latter. They can ſit ſtill and wait for the concluſion of every year, at which they are to be richer, or rather are to have much more money, than in the pre⯑ceding one. They know, that, every day the ſilent progreſs of intereſt adds ſo much to their principal; and they are content to watch the courſe of time, for it is time alone that varies their wealth, the ſingle object of their attention. There can be no motive, but its truth, for repeating the trite opinion of the influence of avarice in Hol⯑land: we expected, perhaps, with ſome vanity, to have found an op⯑portunity for contradicting it; but are able only to add another teſti⯑mony of its truth. The infatuation of loving money not as a means, but as an end, is paramount in the mind of almoſt every Dutchman, whatever may be his other diſpoſitions and qualities; the addiction to it is fervent, inveterate, invincible, and univerſal from youth to the feebleſt old age.

Haerlem has little trade, its communication with the ſea being through Amſterdam, which latter place has always been able to ob⯑ſtruct the reaſonable ſcheme of cutting a canal through the four miles of land, that ſeparate the former from the ocean. Its manufactures of ſilk and thread are much leſs proſperous than formerly. Yet there are no ſymptoms of decay, or poverty, and the environs are well co⯑vered with gardens eſpecially on the banks of the Sparen, of which one branch flows through the town and the other paſſes under the walls. [57] Some charitable inſtitutions, for the inſtruction and employment of children, ſhould be mentioned alſo, to aſſuage the general cenſure of a too great fondneſs for money.

The houſe of LAURANCE COSTER, who is oppoſed to FAUST, GOTTENBURGH and SCHEFFER, for the honour of having invented the art of printing, is near the great church and is ſtill inhabited by a bookſeller. An inſcription, not worth copying, aſſerts him to be the inventor. The houſe, which is ſmall and ſtands in a row with others, muſt have received its preſent brick front in ſome time ſubſequent to that of COSTER.

AMSTERDAM.

THE voyage between Haerlem and this place is leſs plea⯑ſant, with reſpect to the country, than many of the other trips, but more gratifying to curioſity. For great part of the way, the canal paſſes between the lake, called Haerlemer Maer, and a large branch of the Zuyder Zee, called the River Y. In one place, the neck of land, which ſeparates theſe two waters, is ſo thin, that a canal cannot be drawn through it; and, near this, there is a village, where paſſengers leave their firſt boat, another waiting for them at the renewal of the canal, within a quarter of a mile. Here, as upon other occaſions of [58] the ſame ſort, nearly as much is paid for the carriage of two or three trunks between the boats, as for the whole voyage; and there is an Ordonnatie to authorize the price; for the Magiſtrates have conſidered, that thoſe, who have much baggage, are probably foreigners, and may be thus made to ſupport many of the natives. The Dutch them⯑ſelves put their linen into a velvet bag, called a Ryſack, and for this accordingly no charge is made.

The Half Wegen Sluice is the name of this ſeparation between two vaſt waters, both of which have gained conſiderably upon their ſhores, and, if united, would be irreſiſtible. At the narroweſt part, it con⯑ſiſts of pile-work and maſonry, to the thickneſs of probably forty feet. On this ſpot the ſpectator has, on his left hand, the Y, which, though called a river, is an immenſe inundation of the Zuyder Zee, and would probably carry a ſmall veſſel, without interruption, into the German ocean. On the other hand, is the Haerlem lake, about twelve miles long and nine broad, on which, during the ſiege of Haerlem, the Dutch and Spaniards maintained fleets, and fought battles. Extend⯑ing as far as Leyden, there is a paſſage upon it from that city to Amſterdam, much ſhorter than by the canal, but held to be dan⯑gerous. Before the year 1657, there was, however, no other way, and it was probably the loſs of the Prince of Bohemia and the danger of his dethroned father upon the lake, that inſtigated the making of the canal.

This ſluice is one of ſeveral valuable poſts, by which Amſterdam may be defended againſt a powerful army, and was an important [59] ſtation, during the approach of the Duke of BRUNSWICK in 1787, when this city was the laſt, which ſurrendered. All the roads being formed upon dikes, or embankments, may be defended by batteries, which can be attacked only by narrow columns and in front. The Half Wegen Sluice was, however, eaſily taken by the Duke of BRUNSWICK, his opponents having neglected to place gun-boats on the Haerlem lake, over which he carried eight hundred men in thirty boats, and ſurpriſed the Dutch before day-break, on the morning of the firſt of October. This was one of his real aſſaults, but there were all together eleven made on that day, and, on the next, the city propoſed to ſurrender.

Beyond the ſluice, the canal paſſes ſeveral breaches, made by inun⯑dations of the Y, and not capable of being drained, or repaired. In theſe places the canal is ſeparated from the inundations either by piles, or floating planks. None of the breaches were made within the memory of the preſent generation, yet the boatmen have learned to ſpeak of them with horror.

There is nothing magnificent, or grand, in the approach to Am⯑ſterdam, or the proſpect of the city. The ſails of above an hundred windmills, moving on all ſides, ſeem more conſpicuous than the public buildings of this celebrated capital.

The trechtſchuyt having ſtopped on the outſide of the gate, we waited for one of the public coaches, which are always to be had by ſending to a livery ſtable, but do not ſtand in the ſtreet for fares. It coſt half-a-crown for a drive of about two miles into the city; the [60] regulated price is a guilder, or twenty-pence. Our direction was to the Doolen; but the driver choſe to take us to another inn, in the ſame ſtreet, which we did not diſcover to be otherwiſe called, till we had become ſatisfied with it.

Nearly all the chief thorough-fares of Amſterdam are narrow, but the carriages are neither ſo numerous as in other places of the ſame ſize, nor ſuffered to be driven with the ſame ſpeed; ſo that, though there is no raiſed pavement, foot paſſengers are as ſafe as elſewhere. There are broad terraces to the ſtreets over the two chief canals, but theſe are ſometimes encumbered by workſhops, placed immediately over the water, between which and the houſes the owners maintain an intercourſe of packages and planks, with very little care about the freedom of the paſſage. This, indeed, may be conſtantly ob⯑ſerved of the Dutch: they will never, either in their ſocieties, or their buſineſs, employ their time, for a moment, in gratifying the little malice, or ſhewing the little envy, or aſſuming the little triumphs, which fill ſo much of life with unneceſſary miſeries; but they will ſeldom ſtep one inch out of their way, or ſurrender one moment of their time, to ſave thoſe, whom they do not know, from any incon⯑venience. A Dutchman, throwing cheeſes into his warehouſe, or drawing iron along the pathway, will not ſtop, while a lady, or an infirm perſon paſſes, unleſs he perceives ſomebody inclined to pro⯑tect them; a warehouſeman trundling a caſk, or a woman in the favourite occupation of throwing water upon her windows, will leave it entirely to the paſſengers to take care of their limbs, or their clothes.

[61] The canals themſelves, which are the ornaments of other Dutch cities, are, for the moſt part, the nuiſances of Amſterdam. Many of them are entirely ſtagnant, and, though deep, are ſo laden with filth, that, on a hot day, the feculence ſeems peſtilential. Our win⯑dows opened upon two, but the ſcent very ſoon made us willing to relinquiſh the proſpect. The bottoms are ſo muddy, that a boat⯑hook, drawn up, perhaps, through twelve feet of water, leaves a circle of ſlime at the top, which is not loſt for many minutes. It is not unuſual to ſee boats, laden with this mud, paſſing during mid⯑day, under the windows of the moſt opulent traders; and the fetid cargoes never diſturb the intenſe ſtudies of the counting-houſes within.

After this diſtaſte of the ſtreets and canals of Amſterdam, it was a ſort of duty to ſee, what is the glory of the city, the interior of the Stadthouſe; but we loſt this ſpectacle, by a negligence of that ſevere punctuality, in which the Dutch might be uſefully imitated throughout the world. Our friends had obtained for us a ticket of admiſſion at ten; we called upon them about half an hour after⯑wards; but, as the ride from their houſe would have required ten minutes more, the time of this ticket was thought to be elapſed. We would not accept one, which was offered to be obtained for another day, being unwilling to render it poſſible, that thoſe, who were loading us with the ſincereſt civilities, ſhould witneſs another apparent inſtance of inattention.

The Stadthouſe, as to its exterior, is a plain ſtone building, at⯑tracting [62] attention chiefly from its length, ſolidity and height. The front is an hundred and eight paces long. It has no large gate, but ſeveral ſmall ones, and few ſtatues, that would be obſerved, ex⯑cept one of Atlas on the top. The tales, as to the expence of the building, are inexhauſtible. The foundation alone, which is entirely of piles, is ſaid to have coſt a million of guilders, or nearly ninety thouſand pounds, and the whole edifice treble that ſum. Its contents, the ſtock of the celebrated Bank, are eſtimated at various amounts, of which we will not repeat the loweſt.

The Exchange is an humble building, and not convenient of acceſs. The Poſt Office is well ſituated, upon a broad terrace, near the Stadt⯑houſe, and ſeems to be properly laid out for its uſe.

None of the churches are conſpicuous for their ſtructure; but the regulation, with reſpect to their miniſters, ſhould be more known. Two are aſſigned to each, and all throughout the city have equal and reſpectable ſalaries.

At a diſtance from the Exchange are ſome magnificent ſtreets, raiſed on the banks of canals, nearly equalling thoſe of the Hague for the grandeur of houſes, and much exceeding in length the beſt of Leyden and Haerlem. Theſe are the ſtreets, which muſt give a ſtranger an opinion of the wealth of the city, while the Port, and that alone, can diſplay the extenſiveneſs of its commerce. The ſhops and the preparations for traffic in the interior have a mean appearance to thoſe, who try them by the ſtandard of London con⯑veniences and elegance.

[63] The beſt method of ſeeing the Port is to paſs down it in a boat to ſome of the many towns, that ſkirt the Zuyder Zee. One conve⯑nience, eaſy to be had every where, is immediately viſible from the quays. Small platforms of planks ſupported by piles project from the ſhore between the veſſels, which are diſpoſed with their heads towards the ſides of theſe little bridges; the furtheſt has thus a communication with the quay, and, if the cargo is not of very heavy articles, may be unladen at the ſame time with the others. The port is ſo wide, that, though both ſides are thronged with ſhipping, the channel in the middle is, at leaſt, as broad as the Thames at London Bridge; but the harbour does not extend to more than half the length of the Pool at London, and ſeems to con⯑tain about half the number of veſſels. The form of the port is, however, much more advantageous for a diſplay of ſhipping, which may be here ſeen nearly at one glance in a fine bay of the Zuyder.

After a ſail of about an hour, we landed at Saardam, a village celebrated for the Dockyards, which ſupply Amſterdam with nearly all its fleets. A ſhort channel carries veſſels of the greateſt burthen from Saardam to the Zuyder Zee, which the founders of the place took care not to approach too nearly; and the terrace at the end of this channel is prepared for the reception of cannon, that muſt eaſily defend it from any attack by ſea. Though the neigh⯑bourhood of a dockyard might be ſuppoſed a ſufficient antidote to cleanlineſs, the neatneſs of this little town renders it a ſpectacle even to the Dutch themſelves. The ſtreets are ſo carefully ſwept, [64] that a piece of orange peel would be noticed upon the pavement, and the houſes are waſhed and painted to the higheſt poliſh of nicety. Thoſe, who are here in a morning, or at night, may probably ſee how many dirty operations are endured for the ſake of this exceſſive cleanlineſs.

We were ſhewn nearly round the place, and, of courſe, to the cottage, in which the indefatigable Peter the Firſt of Ruſſia reſided, when he was a workman in the dockyard. It is a tenement of two rooms, ſtanding in a part of the village, ſo very mean, that the alleys near it are not cleaner, than thoſe of other places. An old woman lives in the cottage, and ſubſiſts chiefly by ſhewing it to viſitors, amongſt whom have been the preſent Grand Duke and Ducheſs of Ruſſia; for the Court of Peterſburgh acknowledge it to have been the reſidence of Peter, and have ſtruck a medal in commemoration of ſo truly honourable a palace. The old woman has received one of theſe medals from the preſent Empreſs, together with a grant of a ſmall annuity to encourage her care of the cottage.

We paſſed an agreeable afternoon, at an inn on the terrace, from whence pleaſure veſſels and paſſage boats were continually departing for Amſterdam, and had a ſmart ſail, on our return, during a cloudy and ſomewhat a ſtormy ſunſet. The approach to Amſterdam, on this ſide, is as grand as that from Haerlem is mean, half the circuit of the city, and all its ſpires, being viſible at once over the crowded har⯑bour. The great church of Haerlem is alſo ſeen at a ſmall diſtance, on the right.

[65] The Amſtel, a wide river, which flows through the city into the harbour, fills nearly all the canals, and is itſelf capable of receiving ſhips of conſiderable burthen: one of the bridges over it, and a terrace beyond, are among the few pleaſant walks enjoyed by the inhabitants. The Admiralty, an immenſe building, in the interior of which is the dockyard, ſtands on this terrace, or quay; and the Eaſt India Com⯑pany have their magazine here, inſtead of the interior of the city, where it would be benevolence to let its perfume counteract the noxiouſneſs of the canals.

The government of Amſterdam is ſaid to collect by taxes, rents and dues of various ſorts, more than an Engliſh million and a half annually; and, though a great part of this ſum is afterwards paid to the uſe of the whole Republic, the power of collecting and diſtributing it muſt give conſiderable conſequence to the magiſtrates. The Se⯑nate, which has this power, conſiſts of thirty-ſix members, who re⯑tain their ſeats during life, and were formerly choſen by the whole body of burghers; but, about two centuries ago, this privilege was ſurrendered to the Senate itſelf, who have ever ſince filled up the va⯑cancies in their number by a majority of their own voices. The Echevins, who form the court of juſtice, are here choſen by the burghers out of a double number, nominated by the Senate: in the other cities, the Stadtholder, and not the burghers, makes this choice.

It is obvious, that when the City Senates, which return the Pro⯑vincial States, and, through them, the States General, were them⯑ſelves [66] elected by the burghers, the legiſlature of the United Provinces had a character entirely repreſentative; and, at preſent, a reſpect for public opinion is ſaid to have conſiderable influence in directing the choice of the Senates.

The province of Holland, of which this city is the moſt important part, is ſuppoſed to contain 800,000 perſons, who pay taxes to the amount of twenty-four millions of guilders, or two millions ſterling, forming an average of two pounds ten ſhillings per perſon. In eſti⯑mating the real taxation of a people, it is, however, neceſſary to con⯑ſider the proportion of their conſumption to their imports; for the duties, advanced upon imported articles, are not ultimately and finally paid till theſe are conſumed. The frugal habits of the Dutch permit them to retain but a ſmall part of the expenſive commodities, which they collect; and the foreigners, to whom they are reſold, pay, there⯑fore, a large ſhare of the taxation, which would be ſo enormous, if it was confined to the inhabitants. Among the taxes, really paid by themſelves, are the following;—a land-tax of about four ſhillings and nine pence per acre; a ſale-tax of eight per cent. upon horſes, one and a quarter per cent. upon other moveables, and two and an half per cent. upon land and buildings; a tax upon inheritances out of the direct line, varying from two and an half to eleven per cent.; two per cent. upon every man's income; an exciſe of three pounds per hogſ⯑head upon wine, and a charge of two per cent. upon all public offices. The latter tax is not quite ſo popular here as in other countries, be⯑cauſe many of theſe offices are actually purchaſed, the holders being [67] compelled to buy ſtock to a certain amount, and to deſtroy the obliga⯑tions. The exciſe upon coffee, tea and ſalt is paid annually by each family, according to the number of their ſervants.

The inhabitants of Amſterdam, and ſome other cities, pay alſo a tax, in proportion to their property, for the maintenance of compa⯑nies of city-guards, which are under the orders of their own magi⯑ſtrates. In Amſterdam, indeed, taxation is ſomewhat higher than in other places. Sir William Temple was aſſured, that no leſs than thirty duties might be reckoned to have been paid there, before a cer⯑tain diſh could be placed upon a table at a tavern.

The exact ſums, paid by the ſeveral provinces towards every hun⯑dred thouſand guilders, raiſed for the general uſe, have been often printed. The ſhare of Holland is 58,309 guilders and a fraction; that of Overſſel, which is the ſmalleſt, 3571 guilders and a fraction.

Of five colleges of Admiralty, eſtabliſhed within the United Pro⯑vinces, three are in Holland, and contribute of courſe to point out the pre-eminence of that province. It is remarkable, that neither of theſe ſupply their ſhips with proviſions: They allow the captains to deduct about four-pence halfpenny per day from the pay of each ſailor for that purpoſe; a regulation, which is never made injurious to the ſea⯑men by any improper parſimony, and is ſometimes uſeful to the public, in a country where preſſing is not permitted. A captain, who has acquired a character for generoſity amongſt the ſailors, can muſter a crew in a few days, which, without ſuch a temptation, could not be raiſed in as many weeks.

[68] We cannot ſpeak with exactneſs of the prices of proviſions in this province, but they are generally ſaid to be as high as in England. The charges at inns are the ſame as on the roads within an hundred miles of London, or, perhaps, ſomething more. Port wine is not ſo common as a wine which they call Claret, but which is compounded of a ſtrong red wine from Valencia, mixed with ſome from Bour⯑deaux. The general price for this is twenty pence Engliſh a bottle; three and four pence is the price for a much better ſort. About half⯑a-crown per day is charged for each apartment; and logement is al⯑ways the firſt article in a bill.

Private families buy good claret at the rate of about eighteen pence per bottle, and chocolate for two ſhillings per pound. Beef is ſold for much leſs than in England, but is ſo poor that the Dutch uſe it chiefly for ſoup, and ſalt even that which they roaſt. Good white ſugar is eighteen pence per pound. Bread is dearer than in England; and there is a ſort, called milk bread, of uncommon whiteneſs, which coſts nearly twice as much as our ordinary loaves. Herbs and fruits are much lower priced, and worſe in flavour; but their colour and ſize are not inferior. Fiſh is cheaper than in our maritime counties, thoſe excepted which are at a great diſtance from the metropolis. Coffee is very cheap, and is more uſed than tea. No kind of meat is ſo good as in England; but veal is not much inferior, and is often dreſſed as plainly and as well as with us. The innkeepers have a notion of mutton and lamb chops; but then it is à la Maintenon; and the rank oil of the paper is not a very delightful ſauce. Butter is [69] uſually brought to table clarified, that is, purpoſely melted into an oil; and it is difficult to make them underſtand that it may be otherwiſe.

The Dutch have much more reſpect for Engliſh than for other travellers; but there is a jealouſy, with reſpect to our commerce, which is avowed by thoſe, who have been tutored to calm diſcuſſion, and may be perceived in the converſation of others, whenever the ſtate of the two countries is noticed. This jealouſy is greater in the maritime than in the other provinces, and in Amſterdam than in ſome of the other cities. Rotterdam has ſo much direct intercourſe with England, as to feel, in ſome degree, a ſhare in its intereſts.

Some of our excurſions round Amſterdam were made in a curious vehicle; the body of a coach placed upon a ſledge, and drawn by one horſe. The driver walks by the ſide, with the reins in one hand, and in the other a wetted rope, which he ſometimes throws under the ſledge to prevent it from taking fire, and to fill up the little gaps in the pavement. The appearance of theſe things was ſo whimſical, that curioſity tempted us to embark in one; and, finding them laughed at by none but ourſelves, the convenience of being upon a level with the ſhops, and with the faces that ſeemed to contain the hiſtory of the ſhops, induced us to uſe them again. There are great numbers of them, being encouraged by the magiſtrates, in preference to wheel carriages, and, as is ſaid, in tenderneſs to the piled founda⯑tions of the city, the only one in Holland in which they are uſed. The price is eight pence for any diſtance within the city, and eight pence an hour for attendance.

[70] Near Amſterdam is the ſmall village of Ouderkirk, a place of ſome importance in the ſhort campaign of 1787, being acceſſible by four roads, all of which were then fortified. It conſiſts chiefly of the country houſes of Amſterdam merchants, at one of which we paſſed a pleaſant day. Having been but ſlightly defended, after the loſs of the poſts of Half Wegen and Amſtelreen, it was not much injured by the Pruſſians; but there are many traces of balls thrown into it. The ride to it from Amſterdam is upon the chearful banks of the Amſtel, which is bordered, for more than five miles, with gardens of better verdure and richer groves than had hitherto appeared. The village was ſpread with booths for a fair, though it was Sunday; and we were ſomewhat ſurpriſed to obſerve, that a people in general ſo gravely decorous as the Dutch, ſhould not pay a ſtricter deference to the Sabbath. We here took leave of ſome friends, whoſe frank man⯑ners and obliging diſpoſitions are remembered with much more de⯑light than any other circumſtances, relative to Amſterdam.

UTRECHT.

THE paſſage from Amſterdam hither is of eight hours; and, notwithſtanding the pleaſantneſs of trechtſchuyt conveyance, ſeemed ſomewhat tedious, after the habit of paſſing from city to city in half that time. The canal is, however, juſtly preferred to others, on account of the richneſs of its ſurrounding ſcenery; and it is pleaſing to obſerve how gradually the country improves, as the diſ⯑tance from the province of Holland and from the ſea increaſes. To⯑wards Utrecht, the gardens riſe from the banks of the canal, inſtead of ſpreading below its level, and the grounds maintain avenues and plantations of lofty trees. Vegetation is ſtronger and more copious; ſhrubs riſe to a greater height; meadows diſplay a livelier green; and the lattice-work of the bowery avenues, which occur ſo frequently, ceaſes to be more conſpicuous than the foliage.

It was Whitſuntide, and the banks of the canal were gay with holiday people, riding in waggons and carts; the latter frequently carrying a woman wearing a painted hat as large as an umbrella, and a man with one in whimſical contraſt clipped nearly cloſe to the crown. The lady ſometimes refreſhed herſelf with a fan, and the gentleman, meanwhile, with a pipe of tobacco. Every village we [72] paſſed reſounded with hoarſe muſic and the clatter of wooden ſhoes: among theſe the prettieſt was Nieuverſluys, bordering each ſide of the canal, with a white drawbridge pictureſquely ſhadowed with high trees, and green banks ſloping to the water's brim. Pleaſure-boats and trechtſchuyts lined the ſhores; and the windows of every houſe were thronged with broad faces. On the little terraces below were groups of ſmokers, and of girls in the neat trim Dutch dreſs, with the fair complexion and air of decorous modeſty, by which their country-women are diſtinguiſhed.

About half way from Amſterdam ſtands a ſmall modern fortifica⯑tion; and it is an inſtance of Dutch carefulneſs, that graſs had juſt been mowed even from the parapets of the batteries, and was made up in heaps within the works. Not far from it is an ancient caſtle of one tower, left in the ſtate to which it was reduced during the conteſt with the Spaniards.

Near Utrecht, the ground has improved ſo much, that nothing but its evenneſs diſtinguiſhes it from other countries; and, at ſome diſtance eaſtward, the hills of Guelderland riſe to deſtroy this laſt difference. The entrance into the city is between high terraces, from which ſteps deſcend to the canal; but the ſtreet is not wide enough to have its appearance improved by this ſort of approach. Warehouſes, formed under the terraces, ſhew alſo that the latter have been raiſed more for convenience than ſplendour.

The ſteeple of the great church, formerly a cathedral, excites, in the mean time, an expectation of dignity in the interior, where ſome [73] conſiderable ſtreets and another canal complete the air of an opulent city. It is not immediately ſeen, that a great part of the body of this cathedral has been deſtroyed, and that the canals, being ſubject to tides, have dirty walls during the ebb. The ſplendour, which might be expected in the capital of a province much inhabited by nobility, does not appear; nor is there, perhaps, any ſtreet equal to the beſt of Leyden and Haerlem; yet, in general beauty, the city is ſuperior to either of theſe.

We arrived juſt before nine, at which hour a bell rings to denote the ſhutting of the larger gates; for the rules of a walled town are obſerved here, though the fortifications could be of little other uſe than to prevent a ſurpriſe by horſe. The Chateau d'Anvers, at which we lodged, is an excellent inn, with a landlord, who tells, that he has walked ſixty years in his own paſſage, and that he had the honour of entertaining the Marquis of Granby thirteen times, during the war of 1756. Though the Dutch inns are generally unobjection⯑able, there is an air of Engliſh completeneſs about this which the others do not reach.

Utrecht is an univerſity, but with as little appearance of ſuch an inſtitution as Leyden. The ſtudents have no academical dreſs; and their halls, which are uſed only for lectures and exerciſes, are formed in the cloiſters of the ancient cathedral. The chief ſign of their reſidence in the place is, that the houſeholders, who have lodgings to let, write upon a board, as is done at Leyden, Cubicula locanda. We were ſhewn round the town by a member of the univerſity, who carefully avoided the halls; and we did not preſs to ſee them.

[74] There are ſtill ſome traces remaining of the Biſhopric, which was once ſo powerful, as to excite the jealouſy, or rather, perhaps, to tempt the avarice of Charles the Fifth, who ſeized upon many of its poſſeſſions. The uſe made of the remainder by the States General, is ſcarcely more juſtifiable; for the prebends ſtill ſubſiſt, and are diſpoſed of by ſale to lay canons, who ſend delegates to the Provincial States, as if they had eccleſiaſtical characters.

The ſubſtantial remains of the Cathedral are one aiſle, in which divine ſervice is performed, and a lofty, magnificent Gothic tower, that ſtands apart from it. The aſcent of this tower is one of the taſks preſcribed to ſtrangers, and, laborious as it is, the view from the ſummit ſufficiently rewards them. A ſtone ſtaircaſe, ſteep, nar⯑row, and winding, after paſſing ſeveral grated doors, leads into a floor, which you hope is at the top, but which is little more than half way up. Here the family of the belfryman fill ſeveral decently furniſhed apartments, and ſhew the great bell, with ſeveral others, the noiſe of which, it might be ſuppoſed, no human ears could bear, as they muſt, at the diſtance of only three, or four yards. After reſting a few minutes in a room, the windows of which command, perhaps, a more extenſive land view than any other inhabited apartment in Europe, you begin the ſecond aſcent by a ſtaircaſe ſtill narrower and ſteeper, and, when you ſeem to be ſo weary as to be incapable of another ſtep, half the horizon ſuddenly burſts upon the view, and all your meditated complaints are overborne by expreſſions of admiration.

Towards the weſt, the proſpect, after including the rich plain [75] of gardens near Utrecht, extends over the province of Holland, interſected with water, ſpeckled with towns, and finally bounded by the ſea, the miſts of which hide the low ſhores from the ſight. To the northward, the Zuyder Zee ſpreads its hazineſs over Amſterdam and Naerden; but from thence to the eaſt, the ſpires of Amersfoort, Rhenen, Arnheim, Nimeguen and many intermediate towns, are ſeen amongſt the woods and hills, that gradually riſe towards Germany. Southward, the more mountainous diſtrict of Cleves and then the level parts of Guelderland and Holland, with the windings of the Waal and the Leck, in which the Rhine loſes itſelf, complete a circle of probably more than ſixty miles diameter, that ſtrains the ſight from this tremendous ſteeple. The almoſt perpendicular view into the ſtreets of Utrecht affords afterwards ſome relief to the eye, but in⯑creaſes any notions of danger, you may have had from obſerving, that the openwork Gothic parapet, which alone prevents you from falling with dizzineſs, has ſuffered ſomething in the general decay of the church.

While we were at the top, the bells ſtruck; and, between the gid⯑dineſs communicated by the eye, and the ſtunning effect of a ſound that ſeemed to ſhake the ſteeple, we were compelled to conclude ſooner than had been intended this comprehenſive and farewell proſpect of Holland.

The Mall, which is eſteemed the chief ornament of Utrecht, is, perhaps, the only avenue of the ſort in Europe, ſtill fit to be uſed for the game that gives its name to them all. The ſeveral [76] rows of noble trees include, at the ſides, roads and walks; but the centre is laid out for the game of Mall, and, though not often uſed, is in perfect preſervation. It is divided ſo as to admit of two parties of players at once, and the ſide boards ſufficiently reſtrain ſpectators. The Mall in St. James's Park was kept in the ſame ſtate, till 1752, when the preſent great walk was formed over the part, which was ſeparated by ſimilar ſide boards. The length of that at Utrecht is nearly three quarters of a mile. The luxuriance and loftineſs of the trees preſerve a perſpective much ſuperior to that of St. James's, but in the latter the whole breadth of the walks is greater, and the view is more extenſive, as well as more ornamented.

This city, being a ſort of capital to the neighbouring nobility, is called the politeſt in the United Provinces, and certainly abounds, more than the others, with the profeſſions and trades, which are ſubſervient to ſplendour. One practice, obſerved in ſome degree, in all the cities, is moſt frequent here; that of bows paid to all parties, in which there are ladies, by every gentleman who paſſes. There are, however, no plays, or other public amuſements; and the feſtivities, or ceremonies, by which other nations commemorate the happier events in their hiſtory, are as unuſual here as in the other parts of the United Provinces, where there are more occaſions to celebrate and fewer celebrations than in moſt European countries. Muſic is very little cultivated in any of the cities, and plays are to be ſeen only at Amſterdam and the Hague, where German and Dutch pieces are acted upon alternate nights. At Amſterdam, a [77] French Opera-houſe has been ſhut up, and, at the Hague, a Comédie, and the actors ordered to leave the country.

The ramparts of the city, which are high and command exten⯑ſive proſpects, are rather emblems of the peacefulneſs, which it has long enjoyed, than ſigns of any effectual reſiſtance, prepared for an enemy. They are in many places regularly planted with trees, which muſt be old enough to have been ſpared, together with the Mall, by Louis the Fourteenth; in others, pleaſure houſes, inſtead of batteries, have been raiſed upon them. A few pieces of old cannon are planted for the purpoſe of ſaluting the Prince of ORANGE, when he paſſes the city.

Trechtſchuyts go no further eaſtward than this place, ſo that we hired a voiturier's carriage, a ſort of curricle with a driver's box in front, for the journey to Nimeguen. The price for thirty-eight, or thirty-nine miles, was ſomething more than a guinea and a half; the horſes were worth probably ſixty pounds upon the ſpot, and were as able as they were ſhowy, or they could not have drawn us through the deep ſands, that cover one third of the road.

We were now ſpeedily quitting almoſt every thing, that is ge⯑nerally characteriſtic of Dutch land. The paſtures were intermixed with fields of proſperous corn; the beſt houſes were ſurrounded by high woods, and the grounds were ſeparated by hedges, inſtead of water, where any ſort of partition was uſed. Windmills were ſeldom ſeen, and thoſe only for corn. But theſe improvements in the appear⯑ance [78] of the country were accompanied by many ſymptoms of a diminiſhed proſperity among the people. In eight-and-thirty miles there was not one conſiderable town; a ſpace, which, in the pro⯑vince of Holland, would probably have included three opulent cities, ſeveral extenſive villages, and ranges of manſions, erected by merchants and manufacturers.

Wyk de Duerſtede, the firſt town in the road, is diſtinguiſhable at ſome diſtance, by the ſhattered tower of its church, a monument of the deſolation, ſpread by the Spaniards. The inhabitants, probably intending, that it ſhould remain as a leſſon to poſterity, have not attempted to reſtore it, further than to place ſome ſtones over the part filled by the clock. The body of the church and the re⯑mainder of the tower are not deficient of Gothic dignity. The town itſelf conſiſts of one, or two wide ſtreets, not well filled either with inhabitants, or houſes.

The road here turns to the eaſtward and is led along the right bank of the Leck, one of the branches of the Rhine, upon a raiſed mound, or dique, ſometimes twenty, or thirty feet, above the river on the one ſide, and the plains, on the other. Small poſts, each numbered, are placed along this road, at unequal diſtances, for no other uſe, which we could diſcover, than to enable the ſurveyors to report exactly where the mound may want repairs. The car⯑riage way is formed of a deep ſand, which we were very glad to leave, by croſſing the river at a ferry; though this road had given us a ſine view of its courſe and of ſome ſtately veſſels, preſſing againſt the ſtream, on their voyage to Germany.

[79] On the other ſide, the road went further from the river, though we continued to ſkirt it occaſionally as far as a ſmall ferry-houſe, op⯑poſite to Rhenen, at which we dined, while the horſes reſted under a ſhed, built over the road, as weigh houſes are at our turnpikes. Rhenen is a walled town, built upon an aſcent from the water, and appears to have two, or three neat ſtreets.

Having dined in a room, where a table, large enough for twenty perſons, was placed, on one ſide, and a line of four, or five beds, co⯑vered by one long curtain, was formed againſt the wainſcot, on the other, the voiturier clamoured, that the gates of Nimeguen would be ſhut before we could get to them, and we ſoon began to croſs the country between the Leck and the Waal, another branch of the Rhine, which, in Guelderland, divides itſelf into ſo many channels, that none can be allowed the pre-eminence of retaining its name. Soon after reaching the right bank of the Waal, the road affords a view of the diſtant towers of Nimeguen, which appear there to be very important, ſtanding upon a brow, that ſeems to front the whole ſtream of the river. In the way, we paſſed ſeveral noble eſtates, with manſions, built in the caſtellated form, which James the Firſt introduced into England, inſtead of the more fortified reſidences; and there was a ſufficient grandeur of woods and avenues, to ſhew, that there might be parks, if the owners had the taſte to form them. Be⯑tween the avenues, the gilded ornaments of the roof, and the peaked coverings, placed, in ſummer, over the chimneys, glittered to the light, and ſhewed the fantaſtic ſtyle of the architecture, ſo exactly [80] copied in Flemiſh landſcapes of the ſixteenth and ſeventeenth cen⯑turies.

As the ſun declined and we drew near Nimeguen, the various colouring of a ſcene more rich than extenſive rendered its effect highly intereſting. The wide Waal on our left, reflecting the even⯑ing bluſh, and a veſſel whoſe full ſails caught a yellow gleam from the weſt; the ramparts and pointed roofs of Nimeguen riſing over each other, juſt tinted by the vapour that aſcended from the bay below; the faint and fainter blue of two ridges of hills in Germany retiring in the diſtance, with the mellow green of nearer woods and meadows, formed a combination of hues ſurpriſingly gay and beauti⯑ful. But Nimeguen loſt much of its dignity on a nearer approach; for many of the towers, which the treachery of fancy had painted at diſtance, changed into forms leſs pictureſque; and its ſituation, which a bold ſweep of the Waal had repreſented to be on a riſing peninſula crowning the flood, was found to be only on a ſteep beſide it. The ramparts, however, the high old tower of the citadel, the Belvidere, with the ſouthern gate of the town beneath, compoſed part of an intereſting picture on the oppoſite margin of the river. But there was very little time to obſerve it: the driver ſaw the flying bridge, making its laſt voyage, for the night, towards our ſhore, and likely to return in about twenty minutes; he, therefore, drove furiouſly along the high bank of the river, and, turning the angle of the two roads with a velocity, which would have done honour to a Brent⯑ford poſtillion, entered that adjoining the firſt half of the bridge, [81] and ſhewed the directors of the other half, that we were to be part of their cargo.

This bridge, which is partly laid over boats and partly over two barges, that float from the boats to the ſhore, is ſo divided, becauſe the ſtream is occaſionally too rapid to permit an entire range of boats between the two banks. It is thus, for one half, a bridge of boats, and, for the other, a flying bridge; which laſt part is capable of con⯑taining ſeveral carriages, and joins to the other ſo exactly as not to occaſion the leaſt interruption. It is alſo railed for the ſafety of foot paſſengers, of whom there are commonly twenty, or thirty. The price for a carriage is ſomething about twenty-pence, which the tollmen carefully collect as ſoon as the demi-bridge has begun its voyage.

NIMEGUEN

HAS, towards the water, little other fortification than an antient brick wall, and a gate. Though it is a garriſon town, and certainly no trifling object, we were not detained at the gate by troubleſome ceremonies. The commander, affecting no unneceſſary carefulneſs, is ſatisfied with a copy of the report, which the inn⯑keepers, in all the towns, ſend to the Magiſtrates, of the names and conditions of their gueſts. A printed paper is uſually brought up, after ſupper, in which you are aſked to write your name, addition, reſidence, how long you intend to ſtay, and to whom you are known in the province. We did not ſhew a paſſport in Holland.

The town has an abrupt but ſhort elevation from the river, which you aſcend by a narrow but clean ſtreet, opening into a ſpacious market⯑place. The great church and the guard-houſe are on one ſide of this; from the other, a ſtreet runs to the eaſtern gate of the town, formed in the old wall, beyond which commence the modern and ſtrong fortifi⯑cations, that defend it, on the land ſide. At the eaſtern extremity of the place, a ſmall mall leads to the houſe, in which the Prince of Orange reſided, during the troubles of 1786; and, beyond it, on a ſudden promontory towards the river, ſtands a proſpect houſe, called [83] the Belvidere, which, from its eaſtern and ſouthern windows, com⯑mands a long view into Germany, and to the north looks over Guel⯑derland. From this place all the fortifications, which are very ex⯑tenſive, are plainly ſeen, and a military perſon might eſtimate their ſtrength. There are ſeveral forts and outworks, and, though the ditch is palliſadoed inſtead of filled, the place muſt be capable of a conſiderable defence, unleſs the beſieging army ſhould be maſters of the river and the oppoſite bank. There was formerly a fortreſs upon this bank, which was often won and loſt, during the ſieges of Nime⯑guen, but no remains of it are viſible now.

The town is claſſic ground to thoſe, who venerate the efforts, by which the provinces were reſcued from the dominion of the Spaniards. It was firſt attempted by SENGIUS, a Commander in the Earl of LEICESTER'S army, who propoſed to enter it, at night, from the river, through a houſe, which was to be opened to him; but his troops by miſtake entered another, where a large company was col⯑lected, on occaſion of a wedding, and, being thus diſcovered to the garriſon, great numbers of thoſe, already landed upon the beach, were put to the ſword, or drowned in the confuſion of the retreat. An attempt by Prince Maurice to ſurpriſe it was defeated by the failure of a petard, applied to one of the gates; but it was ſoon after taken by a regular ſiege, carried on chiefly from the other ſide of the river. This and the neighbouring fortreſs of Grave were among the places, firſt taken by Louis the Fourteenth, during his invaſion, having been left without ſufficient garriſons.

[84] The citadel, a remnant of the antient fortifications, is near the eaſtern gate, which appears to be thought ſtronger than the others, for, on this ſide, alſo is the arſenal.

Nimeguen has been compared to Nottingham, which it reſembles more in ſituation than in ſtructure, though many of the ſtreets are ſteep, and the windows of one range of houſes ſometimes overlook the chimnies of another; the views alſo, as from ſome parts of Not⯑tingham, are over a green and extenſive level, riſing into diſtant hills; and here the compariſon ends. The houſes are built entirely in the Dutch faſhion, with many coloured, painted fronts, termi⯑nating in peaked roofs; but ſome decline of neatneſs may be obſerved by thoſe who arrive here from the province of Holland. The mar⯑ket-place, though gay and large, cannot be compared with that of Nottingham, in extent, nor is the town more than half the ſize of the latter, though it is ſaid to contain nearly fifty thouſand inhabi⯑tants. From almoſt every part of it you have, however, a glimpſe of the ſurrounding landſcape, which is more extenſive than that ſeen from Nottingham, and is adorned by the ſweeps of a river of much greater dignity than the Trent.

We left Nimeguen, in the afternoon, with a Voiturier, whoſe price, according to the ordonnatic, was higher than if we had ſet out half an hour ſooner, upon the ſuppoſition that he could not return that night. The road lies through part of the fortifica⯑tions, concerning which there can, of courſe, be no ſecrecy. It then enters an extenſive plain, and runs almoſt parallel to a range of [85] heights, at the extremity of which Nimeguen ſtands, and preſents an appearance of ſtill greater ſtrength and importance than when ſeen from the weſtward.

CLEVES.

THIS place, which, being the capital of a duchy, is entitled a City, conſiſts of ſome irregular ſtreets, built upon the brow of a ſteep hill. It is walled, but cannot be mentioned as fortified, having no ſolid works. The houſes are chiefly built of ſtone, and there is a little of Dutch cleanlineſs; but the marks of decay are ſtrongly impreſſed upon them, and on the ancient walls. What little trade there is, exiſts in retailing goods ſent from Holland. The Dutch language and coins are in circulation here, almoſt as much as the German.

The eſtabliſhed religion of the town is Proteſtant; but here is an almoſt univerſal toleration, and the Catholics have ſeveral churches and monaſteries. Cleves has ſuffered a various fate in the ſport of war during many centuries, but has now little to diſtinguiſh it except the beauty of its proſpects, which extend into Guelderland and the province of Holland, over a country enriched with woody hills and vallies of corn and paſturage.

[88] Being convinced, in two or three hours, that there was nothing to require a longer ſtay, we ſet out for Xanten, a town in the ſame duchy, diſtant about eighteen miles. For nearly the whole of this length the road lay through a broad avenue, which frequently entered a foreſt of oak, fir, elm, and majeſtic plane-trees, and emer⯑ged from it only to wind along its ſkirts. The views then opened over a country, diverſified with gentle hills, and ornamented by numberleſs ſpires upon the heights, every ſmall town having ſeveral convents. The caſtle of Eltenberg, on the ſummit of a wooded mountain, was viſible during the whole of this ſtage and part of the next day's journey. Yet the fewneſs, or the poverty, of the inha⯑bitants appeared from our meeting only one chaiſe, and two or three ſmall carts, for eighteen miles of the only high-road in the country.

It was a fine evening in June, and the rich lights, thrown among the foreſt glades, with the ſolitary calmneſs of the ſcene, and the ſereneneſs of the air, filled with ſcents from the woods, were circum⯑ſtances which perſuaded to ſuch tranquil rapture as Collins muſt have felt when he had the happineſs to addreſs to Evening—

A ſmall half-way village, a ſtately convent, with its gardens, called Marienbaum, founded in the 15th century by Maria, Ducheſs of Cleves, and a few mud cottages of the woodcutters, were the only buildings on the road: the foot paſſengers were two Pruſſian ſoldiers. It was moon-light, and we became impatient to reach Xanten, long before our driver could ſay, in a mixture of German and Dutch, that we were near it. At length from the woods, that had concealed the town, a few lights appeared over the walls, and diſſipated ſome gloomy fancies about a night to be paſſed in a foreſt.

XANTEN.

THIS is a ſmall town, near the Rhine, without much appearance of proſperity, but neater than moſt of the others around it. Several narrow ſtreets open into a wide and pleaſant market⯑place, in the centre of which an old but flouriſhing elm has its branches carefully extended by a circular railing, to form an arbour over benches. A cathedral, that proves the town to have been once more conſiderable, is on the north ſide of this place; a fine building, which, ſhewn by the moon of a ſummer midnight, when only the bell of the adjoining convent calling the monks to prayers, and the waving of the aged tree, were to be heard, preſented a ſcene before the windows of our inn, that fully recompenſed for its want of accommodation.

There were alſo humbler reaſons towards contentment; for the people of the houſe were extremely deſirous to afford it; and the landlord was an orator in French, of which and his addreſs he was pleaſantly vain. He received us with an air of humour, mingled with his complaiſance, and hoped, that, ‘"as Monſieur was Anglois, he ſhould ſurpriſe him with his vin extraordinaire, all the Rheniſh wine being adulterated by the Dutch, before they ſent it to England. [91] His houſe could not be fine, becauſe he had little money; but he had an excellent cook, otherwiſe it could not be expected that the pre⯑bendaries of the cathedral would dine at it, every day, and become, as they were, vraiment, Monſieur, gros comme vous me voyez!"’

There are in this ſmall town ſeveral monaſteries and one convent of noble canoneſſes, of which laſt the members are few and the revenues very great. The interior of the cathedral is nearly as grand as the outſide; and maſs is performed in it with more ſolemnity than in many, which have larger inſtitutions.

We left Xanten, the next morning, in high ſpirits, expecting to reach Cologne, which was little more than fifty miles diſtant, before night, though the landlord and the poſtmaſter hinted, that we ſhould go no further than Neuſs. This was our firſt uſe of the German poſt, the ſlowneſs of which, though it has been ſo often deſcribed, we had not eſtimated. The day was intenſely hot, and the road, unſheltered by trees, lay over deep ſands, that reflected the rays. The refreſhing foreſts of yeſterday we now ſeverely regretted, and watched impatiently to catch a freer air from the ſummit of every hill on the way. The poſtillion would permit his horſes to do little more than walk, and every ſtep threw up heaps of duſt into the chaiſe. It had been ſo often ſaid by travellers, that money has as little effect in ſuch caſes as intreaties, or threats, that we ſuppoſed this ſlowneſs irremediable, which was really intended only to produce an offer of what we would willingly have given.

RHEINBERG.

IN ſomething more than three hours, we reached Rhein⯑berg, diſtant about nine miles; a place often mentioned in the mili⯑tary hiſtory of the ſixteenth and ſeventeenth centuries, and which we had ſuppoſed would at leaſt gratify us by the ſhew of magnificent ruins, together with ſome remains of its former importance. It is a wretched place of one dirty ſtreet, and three or four hundred mean houſes, ſurrounded by a decayed wall that never was grand, and half filled by inhabitants, whoſe indolence, while it is probably more to be pitied than blamed, accounts for the ſullenneſs and wretchedneſs of their appearance. Not one ſymptom of labour, or comfort, was to be perceived in the whole town. The men ſeemed, for the moſt part, to be ſtanding at their doors, in unbuckled ſhoes and woollen caps. What few women we ſaw were brown, without the appearance of health, which their leanneſs and dirtineſs prevented. Some ſmall ſhops of huckſters' wares were the only ſigns of trade.

The inn, that ſeemed to be the beſt, was ſuch as might be ex⯑pected in a remote village, in a croſs road in England. The land⯑lord was ſtanding before the door in his cap, and remained there ſome time after we had found the way into a ſitting room, and from thence, [93] for want of attendance, into a kitchen; where two women, without ſtockings, were watching over ſome ſort of cookery in earthen jugs. We were ſupplied, at length, with bread, butter and ſour wine, and did not ſuffer ourſelves to conſider this as any ſpecimen of German towns, becauſe Rheinberg was not a ſtation of the poſt; a deluſion, the ſpirit of which continued through ſeveral weeks, for we were always finding reaſons to believe, that the wretchedneſs of preſent places and perſons was produced by ſome circumſtances, which would not operate in other diſtricts.

This is the condition of a town, which, in the ſixteenth and ſeven⯑teenth centuries, was thought important enough to be five times at⯑tacked by large armies. FARNESE, the Spaniſh commander, was di⯑verted from his attempt upon it, by the neceſſity of relieving Zutphen, then beſieged by the Earl of Leceiſter: in 1589, the Marquis of Varambon inveſted it, for the Spaniards, by order of the Prince of Parma; but it was relieved by our Colonel Vere, who, after a long battle, completely defeated the Spaniſh army. In 1599, when it was attacked by Mendoza, a magazine caught fire. The governor, his family, and a part of the garriſon were buried in the ruins of a tower, and the exploſion ſunk ſeveral veſſels in the Rhine; after which, the remainder of the garriſon ſurrendered the place. The Prince of Orange retook it in 1633. Four years afterwards, the Spaniards at⯑tempted to ſurpriſe it in the night; but the Deputy Governor and others, who perceived that the garriſon could not be immediately collected, paſſed the walls, and, pretending to be deſerters, mingled [94] with the enemy, whom they perſuaded to delay the attack for a few minutes. The troops within were in the mean time prepared for their defence, and ſucceeded in it; but the Governor, with two officers and fifteen ſoldiers who had accompanied him, being diſcovered, were killed. All theſe conteſts were for a place not belonging to either party, being in the electorate of Cologne, but which was va⯑luable to both, for its neighbourhood to their frontiers.

Beyond Rheinberg, our proſpects were extenſive, but not ſo woody, or ſo rich as thoſe of the day before, and few villages enlivened the landſcape. Open corn lands, intermixed with fields of turnips, ſpread to a conſiderable diſtance, on both ſides; on the eaſt, the high ridges of the Weſtphalian mountains ſhut up the ſcene. The Rhine, which frequently ſwept near the road, ſhewed a broad ſurface, though ſhrunk within its ſandy ſhores by the dryneſs of the ſeaſon. Not a ſingle veſſel animated its current, which was here tame and ſmooth, though often interrupted by ſands, that roſe above its level.

HOOGSTRASS.

THE next town was Hoogſtraſs, a poſt ſtation, fifteen miles from Xanten, of which we ſaw little more than the inn, the other part of this ſmall place being out of the road. A large houſe, which might have been eaſily made convenient, and was really not without plenty, confirmed our notion, that, at the poſt ſtages, there would always be ſome accommodation. We dined here, and were well at⯑tended. The landlord, a young man who had ſerved in the army of the country, and appeared by his dreſs to have gained ſome promo⯑tion, was very induſtrious in the houſe, during this interval of his other employments.

The next ſtage was of eighteen miles, which make a German poſt and an half; and, during this ſpace, we paſſed by only one town, Ordingen, or Urdingen, the greateſt part of which ſpread between the road and the Rhine.

Towards evening, the country became more woody, and the ſlen⯑der ſpires of convents frequently appeared, ſheltered in their groves and ſurrounded by corn lands of their own domain. One of theſe, nearer to the road, was a noble manſion, and, with its courts, offices and gardens, ſpread over a conſiderable ſpace. A ſummer-houſe, [96] built over the garden wall, had no windows towards the road, but there were ſeveral ſmall apertures, which looked upon it and beyond to a large tract of incloſed wood, the property of the convent.

NEUSS.

SOON after ſun-ſet, we came to Neuſs, which, as it is a poſt town, and was mentioned as far off as Xanten, we had been ſure would afford a comfortable lodging, whether there were any veſtiges, or not, of its ancient and modern hiſtory. The view of it, at ſome little diſtance, did not altogether contradict this notion, for it ſtands upon a gentle aſcent, and the ſpires of ſeveral convents might juſtly give ideas of a conſiderable town to thoſe, who had not learned how ſlightly ſuch ſymptoms are to be attended to in Germany.

On each ſide of the gate, cannon balls of various ſizes remain in the walls. Within, you enter immediately into a cloſe ſtreet of high, but dirty ſtone houſes, from which you expect to eſcape preſently, ſuppoſing it to be only ſome wretched quarter, appropriated to diſeaſe and misfortune. You ſee no paſſengers, but, at the door of every houſe, an haggard group of men and women ſtare upon you with looks of hungry rage, rather than curioſity, and their gaunt figures [97] excite, at firſt, more fear than pity. Continuing to look for the bet⯑ter quarter, and to paſs between houſes, that ſeem to have been left after a ſiege and never entered ſince, the other gate of the town at length appears, which you would rather paſs at midnight than ſtop at any place yet perceived. Within a ſmall diſtance of the gate, there is, however, a houſe with a wider front, and windows of unſhattered glaſs and walls not quite as black as the others, which is known to be the inn only becauſe the driver ſtops there, for, according to the etiquette of ſullenneſs in Germany, the people of the houſe make no ſhew of receiving you.

If it had not already appeared, that there was no other inn, you might learn it from the manners of the two hoſteſſes and their ſervants. Some ſort of accommodation is, however, to be had; and thoſe, who have been longer from the civilities and aſſiduities of ſimilar places in England, may, by more ſubmiſſion and more patience, obtain it ſooner than we did. By theſe means they may reduce all their difficulties into one, that of determining whether the windows ſhall be open or ſhut; whether they will endure the cloſe⯑neſs of the rooms, or will admit air, loaded with the feculence of putrid kennels, that ſtagnate along the whole town.

This is the Noveſium of Tacitus, the entrance of the thirteenth legion into which he relates, at a time when the Rhine, incognita illi coelo ſiccitate, became vix navium patiens, and which VOCULA was ſoon after compelled to ſurrender by the treachery of other leaders and the corruption of his army, whom he addreſſed, juſt before his [98] murder, in the fine ſpeech, beginning, ‘"Nunquam apud vos verba feci, aut pro vobis ſolicitior, aut pro me ſecurior;’ a paſſage ſo near to the cunctiſque timentem, ſecurumque ſui, by which LUCAN deſcribes CATO, that it muſt be ſuppoſed to have been inſpired by it.

This place ſtood a ſiege, for twelve months, againſt 60,000 men, commanded by CHARLES the BOLD, Duke of Burgundy, and ſucceeded in its reſiſtance. But, in 1586, when it held out for GEBHERT DE TRUSCHES, an Elector of Cologne, expelled by his Chapter, for having married, it was the ſcene of a dreadful calamity. FARNESE, the Spaniſh General, who had juſt taken Venlo, marched againſt it with an army, enraged at having loſt the plunder of that place by a capitulation. When the inhabitants of Neuſs were upon the point of ſurrendering it, upon ſimilar terms, the army, reſolving not to loſe another prey of blood and gold, ruſhed to the aſſault, ſet fire to the place, and murdered all the inhabitants, except a few women and children, who took refuge in two churches, which alone were ſaved from the flames.

When the firſt ſhock of the ſurpriſe, indignation and pity, excited by the mention of ſuch events, is overcome, we are, of courſe, anxious to aſcertain whether the perpetrators of them were previouſly diſtinguiſhed by a voluntary entrance into ſituations, that could be ſuppoſed to mark their characters. This was the army of Philip the Second. The ſoldiers were probably, for the moſt part, forced into the ſervice. The officers, of whom only two are related to have oppoſed the maſſacre, could not have been ſo.

[99] What was then the previous diſtinction of the officers of Philip the Second? But it is not proper to enter into a diſcuſſion here of the nature of their employment.

Neuſs was rebuilt, on the ſame ſpot; the ſituation being conve⯑nient for an intercourſe with the eaſtern ſhore of the Rhine, eſpe⯑cially with Duſſeldorff, to which it is nearly oppoſite. The ancient walls were partly reſtored by the French, in 1602. One of the churches, ſpared by the Spaniards, was founded by a daughter of CHARLEMAGNE, in the ninth century, and is now attached to the Chapter of Noble Ladies of St. Quirin; beſides which there are a Chapter of Canons, and five or ſix convents in the place.

COLOGNE.

FROM Neuſs hither we paſſed through a deep, ſandy road, that ſometimes wound near the Rhine, the ſhores of which were yet low and the water tame and ſhallow. There were no veſſels upon it, to give one ideas either of the commerce, or the population of its banks.

The country, for the greater part of twenty miles, was a flat of corn lands; but, within a ſhort diſtance of Cologne, a gentle riſe affords a view of the whole city, whoſe numerous towers and [100] ſteeples had before appeared, and of the extenſive plains, that ſpread round it. In the ſouthern perſpective of theſe, at the diſtance of about eight leagues, riſe the fantaſtic forms of what are called the Seven Mountains; weſtward, are the cultivated hills, that extend towards Flanders; and, eaſtward, over the Rhine, the diſtant moun⯑tains, that run through ſeveral countries of interior Germany. Over the wild and gigantic features of the Seven Mountains dark thun⯑der miſts ſoon ſpread an awful obſcurity, and heightened the ex⯑pectation, which this glimpſe of them had awakened, concerning the ſcenery we were approaching.

The appearance of Cologne, at the diſtance of one, or two miles, is not inferior to the conception, which a traveller may have already formed of one of the capitals of Germany, ſhould his mind have obeyed that almoſt univerſal illuſion of fancy, which dreſſes up the images of places unſeen, as ſoon as much expectation, or attention is directed towards them. The air above is crowded with the towers and ſpires of churches and convents, among which the cathedral, with its huge, unfiniſhed maſs, has a ſtriking appearance. The walls are alſo high enough to be obſerved, and their whole incloſure ſeems, at a diſtance, to be thickly filled with buildings.

We ſhould have known ourſelves to be in the neighbourhood of ſome place larger than uſual, from the ſight of two, or three car⯑riages, at once, on the road; nearly the firſt we had ſeen in Germany. There is beſides ſome ſhew of labour in the adjoining villages; but the ſallow countenances and miſerable air of the people prove, that [101] it is not a labour beneficial to them. The houſes are only the deſolated homes of theſe villagers; for there is not one that can be ſuppoſed to belong to any proſperous inhabitant of the city, or to afford the coveted ſtillneſs, in which the active find an occaſional reward, and the idle a perpetual miſery.

A bridge over a dry foſſé leads to the northern gate, on each ſide of which a ſmall modern battery defends the ancient walls. The city is not fortified, according to any preſent ſenſe of the term, but is ſurrounded by theſe walls and by a ditch, of which the latter, near the northern gate, ſerves as a ſort of kitchen garden to the inhabitants.

Before paſſing the inner gate, a ſoldier demanded our names, and we ſhewed our paſſport, for the firſt time; but, as the inquiſitor did not underſtand French, in which language paſſports from England are written, it was handed to his comrades, who formed a circle about our chaiſe, and began, with leaden looks, to ſpell over the paper. Some talked, in the mean time, of examining the bag⯑gage; and the money, which we gave to prevent this, being in various pieces and in Pruſſian coin, which is not perfectly underſtood here, the whole party turned from the paſſport, counting and eſtimating the money in the hand of their collector, as openly as if it had been a legal tribute. When this was done and they had heard, with ſur⯑priſe, that we had not determined where to lodge, being inclined to take the pleaſanteſt inn, we wrote our names in the corporal's dirty book, and were allowed to drive, under a dark tower, into the city.

[102] Inſtantly, the narrow ſtreet, gloomy houſes, ſtagnant kennels and wretchedly looking people reminded us of the horrors of Neuſs. The lower windows of theſe priſon-like houſes are ſo ſtrongly barricadoed, that we had ſuppoſed the firſt two, or three, to be really parts of a gaol; but it ſoon appeared, that this profuſion of heavy iron work was intended to exclude, not to confine, robbers. A ſucceſſion of nar⯑row ſtreets, in which the largeſt houſes were not leſs diſguſting than the others for the filthineſs of their windows, doorways and maſſy walls, continued through half the city. In one of theſe ſtreets, or lanes, the poſtillion ſtopped at the door of an inn, which he ſaid was the beſt; but the ſuffocating air of the ſtreet rendered it unneceſſary to enquire, whether, contrary to appearances, there could be any accom⯑modation within, and, as we had read of many ſquares, or market⯑places, he was deſired to ſtop at an inn, ſituated in one of theſe. Thus we came to the Hotel de Prague, a large ſtraggling building, ſaid to be not worſe than the others, for wanting half its furniture, and probably ſuperior to them, by having a landlord of better than German civility.

Having counted from our windows the ſpires of ten, or twelve churches, or convents, we were at leiſure to walk farther into the city, and to look for the ſpacious ſquares, neat ſtreets, noble public buildings and handſome houſes, which there could be no doubt muſt be found in an Imperial and Electoral city, ſeated on the Rhine, at a point where the chief roads from Holland and Flanders join thoſe of Germany, treated by all writers as a conſiderable place, and evidently [103] by its ſituation capable of becoming a ſort of emporium for the three countries. The ſpot, into which our inn opened, though a parallelo⯑gram of conſiderable extent, bordered by lime trees, we paſſed quick⯑ly through, perceiving, that the houſes on all its ſides were mean buildings, and therefore ſuch as could not deſerve the attention in the Imperial and Electoral city of Cologne. There are ſtreets from each angle of this place, and we purſued them all in their turn, narrow, winding and dirty as they are, peſtilent with kennels, gloomy from the height and blackneſs of the houſes, unadorned by any public buildings, except the churches, that were grand, or by one private dwelling, that appeared to be clean, with little ſhew of traffic and leſs of paſſengers, either buſy, or gay, till we ſaw them ending in other ſtreets ſtill worſe, or concluded by the gates of the city. One of them, indeed, led through a market-place, in which the air is free from the feculence of the ſtreets, but which is inferior to the other opening in ſpace, and not better ſurrounded by buildings.

‘"Theſe diminutive obſervations ſeem to take away ſomething from the dignity of writing, and therefore are never communicated, but with heſitation, and a little fear of abaſement and contempt^*."’ And it is not only becauſe they take away ſomething from the dig⯑nity of writing, that ſuch obſervations are withheld. To be thought capable of commanding more pleaſures and preventing more inconve⯑niences than others is a too general paſſport to reſpect; and, in the ordinary affairs of life, for one, that will ſhew ſomewhat leſs pro⯑ſperity than he has, in order to try who will really reſpect him, [104] thouſands exert themſelves to aſſume an appearance of more, which they might know can procure only the mockery of eſteem for them⯑ſelves, and the reality of it for their ſuppoſed conditions. Authors are not always free from a willingneſs to receive the fallacious ſort of reſpect, that attaches to accidental circumſtances, for the real ſort, of which it would be more reaſonable to be proud. A man, relating part of the hiſtory of his life, which is always neceſſarily done by a writer of travels, does not chooſe to ſhew that his courſe could lie through any ſcenes deficient of delights; or that, if it did, he was not enough elevated by his friends, importance, fortune, fame, or buſi⯑neſs, to be incapable of obſerving them minutely. The curioſities of cabinets and of courts are, therefore, exactly deſcribed, and as much of every occurrence as does not ſhew the relater moving in any of the plainer walks of life; but the difference between the ſtock of phyſical comforts in different countries, the character of conditions, if the phraſe may be uſed, ſuch as it appears in the ordinary circum⯑ſtances of reſidence, dreſs, food, cleanlineſs, opportunities of relaxa⯑tion; in ſhort, the information, which all may gain, is ſometimes left to be gained by all, not from the book, but from travel. A writer, iſſuing into the world, makes up what he miſtakes for his beſt appearance, and is continually telling his happineſs, or ſhewing his good-humour, as people in a promenade always ſmile, and always look round to obſerve whether they are ſeen ſmiling. The politeſt ſalutation of the Chineſe, when they meet, is, ‘"Sir, proſperity is painted on your countenance;"’ or, ‘"your whole air announces [105] your felicity;"’ and the writers of travels, eſpecially ſince the cenſure thrown upon SMOLLET, ſeem to provide, that their proſperity ſhall be painted on their volumes, and all their obſervations announce their felicity.

Cologne, though it bears the name of the Electorate, by which it is ſurrounded, is an imperial city; and the Elector, as to temporal affairs, has very little juriſdiction within it. The government has an affecta⯑tion of being formed upon the model of Republican Rome; a form certainly not worthy of imitation, but which is as much diſgraced by this burleſque of it, as ancient ſtatues are by the gilding and the wigs, with which they are ſaid to be ſometimes arrayed by modern hands. There is a ſenate of forty-nine perſons, who, being returned at dif⯑ferent times of the year, are partly nominated by the remaining members, and partly choſen by twenty-two tribes of burgeſſes, or rather by ſo many companies of traders. Of ſix burgomaſters, two are in office every third year, and, when theſe appear in public, they are preceded by LICTORS, bearing faſces, ſurmounted by their own arms! Each of the tribes, or companies, has a Preſident, and the twenty-two Preſidents form a Council, which is authoriſed to enquire into the conduct of the Senate: but the humbleneſs of the burgeſſes in their individual condition has virtually aboliſhed all this ſcheme of a political conſtitution. Without ſome of the intelligence and per⯑ſonal independence, which are but little conſiſtent with the general poverty and indolence of German traders, nothing but the forms of any conſtitution can be preſerved, long after the virtual deſtruction of [106] it has been meditated by thoſe in a better condition. The greater part of theſe companies of traders having, in fact, no trade which can place them much above the rank of menial ſervants to their rich cuſtomers, the deſign, that their Council ſhall check the Senate, and the Senate direct the Burgomaſters, has now, of courſe, little effect. And this, or a ſtill humbler condition, is that of ſeveral cities in Ger⯑many, called free and independent, in which the neighbouring ſove⯑reigns have ſcarcely leſs authority, though with ſomething more of circumſtance, than in their own dominions.

The conſtitution of Cologne permits, indeed, ſome direct interfer⯑ence of the Elector; for the Tribunal of Appeal, which is the ſupreme court of law, is nominated by him: he has otherwiſe no direct power within the city; and, being forbidden to reſide there more than three days ſucceſſively, he does not even retain a palace, but is contented with a ſuite of apartments, reſerved for his uſe at an inn. That this excluſion is no puniſhment, thoſe, who have ever paſſed two days at Cologne, will admit; and it can tend very little to leſſen his influence, for the greateſt part of his perſonal expenditure muſt reach the mer⯑chants of the place; and the officers of ſeveral of his territorial juriſ⯑dictions make part of the inhabitants. His reſidences, with which he is remarkably well provided, are at Bonn; at Bruhl, a palace between Cologne and that place; at Poppelſdorff, which is beyond it; at Her⯑zogs Freud, an hunting ſeat; and in Munſter, of which he is the Biſhop.

The duties of cuſtoms and exciſe are impoſed by the magiſtrates of [107] the city, and theſe enable them to pay their contributions to the Ger⯑manic fund; for, though ſuch cities are formally independent of the neighbouring princes and nobility, they are not ſo of the general laws or expences of the empire, in the Diet of which they have ſome ſmall ſhare, forty-nine cities being allowed to ſend two repreſentatives, and thus to have two votes out of an hundred and thirty-ſix. Theſe duties, of both ſorts, are very high at Cologne; and the firſt form a conſider⯑able part of the interruptions, which all the States upon the Rhine give to the commerce of that river. Here alſo commodities, in⯑tended to be carried beyond the city by water, muſt be re-ſhipped; for, in order to provide cargoes for the boatmen of the place, veſſels from the lower parts of the Rhine are not allowed to aſcend beyond Cologne, and thoſe from the higher parts cannot deſcend it farther. They may, indeed, reload with other cargoes for their return; and, as they conſtantly do ſo, the Cologne boatmen are not much benefited by the regulation; but the transfer of the goods employs ſome hands, ſubjects them better to the inſpection of the cuſtomhouſe officers, and makes it neceſſary for the merchants of places, on both ſides, trading with each other, to have intermediate correſpondents here. Yet, notwithſtanding all this aggreſſion upon the freedom of trade, Cologne is leſs conſiderable as a port, than ſome Dutch towns, never mentioned in a book, and is inferior, perhaps, to half the minor ſea⯑ports in England. We could not find more than thirty veſſels of burthen againſt the quay, all mean and ill-built, except the Dutch, which are very large, and, being conſtructed purpoſely for a tedious navigation, contain apartments upon the deck for the family of the [108] ſkipper, well furniſhed, and ſo commodious as to have four or five ſaſhed windows on each ſide, generally gay with flower-pots. Little flower-gardens, too, ſometimes formed upon the roof of the cabin, increaſe the domeſtic comforts of the ſkipper; and the neatneſs of his veſſel can, perhaps, be equalled only by that of a Dutch houſe. In a time of perfect peace, there is no doubt more traffic; but, from what we ſaw of the general means and occaſions of commerce in Germany, we cannot ſuppoſe it to be much reduced by war. Wealthy and commercial countries may be injured immenſely by making war either for Germany or againſt it; by too much friendſhip or too much enmity; but Germany itſelf cannot be proportionately injured with them, except when it is the ſcene of actual violence. Engliſhmen, who feel, as they always muſt, the love of their own country much increaſed by the view of others, ſhould be induced, at every ſtep, to wiſh, that there may be as little political intercourſe as poſſible, either of friendſhip or enmity, between the bleſſings of their Iſland and the wretchedneſs of the Continent.

Our inn had formerly been a convent, and was in a part of the town where ſuch ſocieties are more numerous than elſewhere. At five o'clock, on the Sunday after our arrival, the bells of churches and convents began to ſound on all ſides, and there was ſcarcely any entire intermiſſion of them till evening. The places of public amuſe⯑ment, chiefly a ſort of tea-gardens, were then ſet open, and, in many ſtreets, the ſound of muſic and dancing was heard almoſt as plainly as that of the bells had been before; a diſguſting exceſs of licentiouſ⯑neſs, [109] which appeared in other inſtances, for we heard, at the ſame time, the voices of a choir on one ſide of the ſtreet, and the noiſe of a billiard table on the other. Near the inn, this contraſt was more obſervable. While the ſtrains of revelry aroſe from an adjoining garden, into which our windows opened, a pauſe in the muſic allowed us to catch ſome notes of the veſper ſervice, performing in a convent of the order of Clariſſe, only three or four doors beyond. Of the ſevere rules of this ſociety we had been told in the morning. The members take a vow, not only to renounce the world, but their deareſt friends, and are never after permitted to ſee even their fathers or mothers, though they may ſometimes converſe with the latter from behind a curtain. And, leſt ſome lingering remains of filial affection ſhould tempt an unhappy nun to lift the veil of ſeparation between herſelf and her mother, ſhe is not allowed to ſpeak even with her, but in the preſence of the abbeſs. Accounts of ſuch hor⯑rible perverſions of human reaſon make the blood thrill and the teeth chatter. Their fathers they can never ſpeak to, for no man is ſuf⯑fered to be in any part of the convent uſed by the ſiſterhood, nor, indeed, is admitted beyond the gate, except when there is a neceſſity for repairs, when all the votaries of the order are previouſly ſecluded. It is not eaſily, that a cautious mind becomes convinced of the exiſt⯑ence of ſuch ſevere orders; when it does, aſtoniſhment at the artificial miſeries, which the ingenuity of human beings forms for themſelves by ſecluſion, is as boundleſs as at the other miſeries, with which the moſt trivial vanity and envy ſo frequently pollute the intercourſes of ſocial life. The poor nuns, thus nearly entombed during their lives, [110] are, after death, tied upon a board, in the clothes they die in, and, with only their veils thrown over the face, are buried in the garden of the convent.

During this day, Trinity Sunday, proceſſions were paſſing on all ſides, moſt of them attended by ſome ſort of martial muſic. Many of the pariſhes, of which there are nineteen, paraded with their officers; and the burgeſſes, who are diſtributed into eight corps, under a ſuppoſition that they could and would defend the city, if it was attacked, preſented their captains at the churches. The hoſt accompanied all theſe proceſſions. A party of the city guards fol⯑lowed, and forty or fifty perſons out of uniform, the repreſentatives probably of the burgeſſes, who are about ſix thouſand, ſucceeded. Beſides the guards, there was only one man in uniform, who, in the burleſque dreſs of a drum-major, entertained the populace by a kind of extravagant marching dance, in the middle of the proceſſion. Our companion would not tell us that this was the captain.

The cathedral, though unfiniſhed, is conſpicuous, amongſt a great number of churches, for the dignity of ſome detached features, that ſhew part of the vaſt deſign formed for the whole. It was begun, in 1248, by the Elector Conrad, who is related, in an hexameter inſcrip⯑tion over a gate, to have laid the firſt ſtone himſelf. In 1320, the choir was finiſhed, and the workmen continued to be employed upon the other parts in 1499, when of two towers, deſtined to be 580 feet above the roof, one had riſen 21 feet, and the other 150 feet, accord⯑ing to the meaſurement mentioned in a printed deſcription. We did not learn at what period the deſign of completing the edifice was [111] abandoned; but the original founder lived to ſee all the treaſures expended, which he had collected for the purpoſe. In its preſent ſtate, the inequality of its vaſt towers renders it a ſtriking object at a conſiderable diſtance; and, from the large unfilled area around it, the magnificence of its Gothic architecture, eſpecially of ſome parts, which have not been joined to the reſt, and appear to be the ruined remains, rather than the commencement of a work, is viewed with awful delight.

In the interior of the cathedral, a fine choir leads to an altar of black marble, raiſed above ſeveral ſteps, which, being free from the incongruous ornaments uſual in Romiſh churches, is left to impreſs the mind by its majeſtic plainneſs The tall painted windows above, of which there are ſix, are ſuperior in richneſs of colouring and deſign to any we ever ſaw; beyond even thoſe in the Chapter-houſe at York, and moſt reſembling the very fine ones in the cathedral of Can⯑terbury. The nave is deformed by a low wooden roof, which appears to have been intended only as a temporary covering, and ſhould certainly be ſucceeded by one of equal dignity to the vaſt columns placed for its ſupport, whether the other parts of the original deſign can ever be completed or not.

By ſome accident we did not ſee the tomb of the three kings of Jeruſalem, whoſe bodies are affirmed to have been brought here from Milan in 1162, when the latter city was deſtroyed by the Emperor Frederic Barbaroſſa. Their boaſted treaſures of golden crowns and diamonds paſs, of courſe, without our eſtimation.

[112] A deſcription of the churches in Cologne, ſet out with good antiquarian minuteneſs, would fill volumes. The whole number of churches, chapters and chapels, which laſt are by far the moſt nu⯑merous, is not leſs than eighty, and none are without an hiſtory of two or three centuries. They are all opened on Sundays; and we can believe, that the city may contain, as is aſſerted, 40,000 ſouls, for nearly all that we ſaw were well attended. In one, indeed, the congregation conſiſted only of two or three females, kneeling at a great diſtance from the altar, with an appearance of the utmoſt intentneſs upon the ſervice, and abſtraction from the noiſe of the proceſſions, that could be eaſily heard within. They were entirely covered with a looſe black drapery; whether for penance, or not, we did not hear. In the cathedral, a figure in the ſame attitude was rendered more intereſting by her ſituation beneath the broken arches and ſhattered fret-work of a painted window, through which the rays of the ſun ſcarcely penetrated to break the ſhade ſhe had choſen.

Several of the chapels are not much larger than an ordinary apart⯑ment, but they are higher, that the nuns of ſome adjoining convent may have a gallery, where, veiled from obſervation by a lawn curtain, their voices often mingle ſweetly with the choir. There are thirty-nine convents of women and nineteen of men, which are ſup⯑poſed to contain about fifteen hundred perſons. The chapters, of which ſome are noble and extremely opulent, ſupport nearly four hundred more; and there are ſaid to be, upon the whole, between two and three thouſand perſons, under religious denominations, in [113] Cologne. Walls of convents and their gardens appear in every ſtreet, but do not attract notice, unleſs, as frequently happens, their bell ſounds while you are paſſing. Some of their female inhabitants may be ſeen in various parts of the city, for there is an order, the members of which are employed, by rotation, in teaching children and attending the ſick. Thoſe of the noble chapters are little more confined than if they were with their own families, being permitted to viſit their friends, to appear at balls and promenades, to wear what dreſſes they pleaſe, except when they chaunt in the choir, and to quit the chapter, if the offer of an acceptable marriage induces their families to authoriſe it; but their own admiſſion into the chapter proves them to be noble by ſixteen quarterings, or four generations, and the offer muſt be from a perſon of equal rank, or their deſcend⯑ants could not be received into ſimilar chapters; an important cir⯑cumſtance in the affairs of the German nobleſſe.

Some of theſe ladies we ſaw in the church of their convent. Their habits were remarkably graceful; robes of lawn and black ſilk flowed from the ſhoulder, whence a quilled ruff, ſomewhat reſembling that of Queen Elizabeth's time, ſpread round the neck. The hair was in curls, without powder, and in the Engliſh faſhion. Their voices were peculiarly ſweet, and they ſung the reſponſes with a kind of plaintive tenderneſs, that was extremely intereſting.

The Jeſuits' church is one of the grandeſt in Cologne, and has the greateſt diſplay of paintings over its numerous altars, as well as of marble pillars. The churches of the chapters are, for the moſt part, very large, and endowed with the richeſt ornaments, which are, how⯑ever, [114] not ſhewn to the public, except upon days of fête. We do not remember to have ſeen that of the chapter of St. Urſula, where heads and other relics are ſaid to be handed to you from ſhelves, like books in a library; nor that of the convent of Jacobins, where ſome MSS. and other effects of Albert the Great, biſhop of Ratiſbon, are among the treaſures of the monks.

Oppoſite to the Jeſuits' church was an hoſpital for wounded ſol⯑diers, ſeveral of whom were walking in the court yard before it, half⯑cloathed in dirty woollen, through which the bare arms of many appeared. Sickneſs and neglect had ſubdued all the ſymptoms of a ſoldier; and it was impoſſible to diſtinguiſh the wounded French from the others, though we were aſſured that ſeveral of that nation were in the crowd. The windows of the hoſpital were filled with figures ſtill more wretched. There was a large aſſemblage of ſpecta⯑tors, who looked as if they were aſtoniſhed to ſee, that war is com⯑pounded of ſomething elſe, beſides the glories, of which it is ſo eaſy to be informed.

The ſoldiery of Cologne are under the command of the magiſtrates, and are employed only within the gates of the city. The whole body does not exceed an hundred and fifty, whom we ſaw reviewed by their colonel, in the place before the Hotel de Prague. The uni⯑form is red, faced with white. The men wear whiſkers, and affect an air of ferocity, but appear to be moſtly invalids, who have grown old in their guard-houſes.

Proteſtants, though protected in their perſons, are not allowed the exerciſe of their religion within the walls of the city, but have a cha⯑pel [115] in a village on the other ſide of the Rhine. As ſome of the chief merchants, and thoſe who are moſt uſeful to the inhabitants, are of the reformed church, they ventured lately to requeſt that they might have a place of worſhip within the city; but they received the common anſwer, which oppoſes all ſort of improvement, religious or civil, that, though the privilege in itſelf might be juſtly required, it could not be granted, becauſe they would then think of aſking ſome⯑thing more.

The government of Cologne in eccleſiaſtical affairs is with the Elector, as archbiſhop, and the Chapter as his council. In civil mat⯑ters, though the city conſtitution is of little effect, the real power is not ſo conſtantly with him as might be ſuppoſed; thoſe, who have influence, being ſometimes out of his intereſt. Converſation, as we were told, was ſcarcely leſs free than in Holland, where there is juſtly no oppoſition to any opinion, however improper, or abſurd, except from the reaſon of thoſe, who hear it. On that account, and becauſe of its eaſy intercourſe with Bruſſels and Spa, this city is ſomewhat the reſort of ſtrangers, by whom ſuch converſation is, perhaps, chiefly carried on; but thoſe muſt come from very wretched countries, who can find pleaſure in a reſidence at Cologne.

Amongſt the public buildings muſt be reckoned the Theatre, of which we did not ſee the inſide, there being no performance, during our ſtay, except on Sunday. This, it ſeems, may be opened, with⯑out offence to the Magiſtrates, though a proteſtant church may not. It ſtands in a row of ſmall houſes, from which it is diſtinguiſhed only by a painted front, once tawdry and now dirty, with the inſcrip⯑tion, [116] ‘"Muſis Gratiiſque decentibus."’ The Town-houſe is an awk⯑ward and irregular ſtone building. The arſenal, which is in one of the narroweſt ſtreets, we ſhould have paſſed, without notice, if it had not been pointed out to us. As a building, it is nothing more than ſuch as might be formed out of four or five of the plaineſt houſes laid into one. Its contents are ſaid to be chiefly antient arms, of various faſhions and ſizes, not very proper for modern uſe.

BONN.

AFTER a ſtay of nearly three tedious days, we left Cologne for Bonn, paſſing through an avenue of limes, which extends from one place to the other, without interruption, except where there is a ſmall half way village. The diſtance is not leſs than eighteen miles, and the diverſified culture of the plains, through which it paſſes, is unuſually grateful to the eye, after the dirty buildings of Cologne and the long uniformity of corn lands in the approach to it. Vines cover a great part of theſe plains, and are here firſt ſeen in Germany, except, indeed, within the walls of Cologne itſelf, which contain many large incloſures, converted from gardens and orchards into well ſheltered vineyards. The vines reminded us of Engliſh hop plants, being ſet, like them, in rows, and led round poles to various heights, though all leſs than that of hops. Corn, fruit or herbs were frequently growing between the rows, whoſe light green foliage mingled beautifully with yellow wheat and larger patches of garden plantations, that ſpread, without any [117] incloſures, to the ſweeping Rhine, on the left. Beyond, appeared the blue ridges of Weſtphalian mountains. On the right, the plains extend to a chain of lower and leſs diſtant hills, whoſe ſkirts are covered with vines and ſummits darkened with thick woods.

The Elector's palace of Bruhl is on the right hand of the road, at no great diſtance, but we were not told, till afterwards, of the mag⯑nificent architecture and furniture, which ought to have attracted our curioſity.

On a green and circular hill, near the Rhine, ſtands the Bene⯑dictine abbey of Siegbourg, one of the firſt pictureſque objects of the rich approach to Bonn; and, further on, the caſtle-like towers of a convent of noble ladies; both ſocieties celebrated for their wealth and the pleaſantneſs of their ſituations, which command extenſive proſpects over the country, on each ſide of the river. As we drew near Bonn, we frequently caught, between the trees of the avenue, imperfect, but awakening glimpſes of the pointed mountains beyond; contraſted with the ſolemn grandeur of which was the beauty of a round woody hill, apparently ſeparated from them only by the Rhine and crowned with the ſpire of a comely convent. Bonn, with tall ſlender ſteeples and the trees of its ramparts, thus backed by ſublime mountains, looks well, as you approach it from Cologne, though neither its noble palace, nor the Rhine, which waſhes its walls, are ſeen from hence.

We were aſked our names at the gate, but had no trouble about paſſports, or baggage. A long and narrow ſtreet leads from thence to the market place, not diſguſting you either with the gloom, or the [118] dirt of Cologne, though mean houſes are abundantly intermixed with the others, and the beſt are far from admirable. The phy⯑ſiognomy of the place, if one may uſe the expreſſion, is wholeſome, though humble. By the recommendation of a Dutch merchant, we went to an inn in another ſtreet, branching from the market place, and found it the cleaneſt, ſince we had left Holland.

Bonn may be called the political capital of the country, the Elector's Court being held only there; and, what would not be expected, this has importance enough to command the reſidence of an agent from almoſt every Power in Europe. The preſent Elector being the uncle of the Emperor, this attention is, perhaps, partly paid, with the view, that it may be felt at the Court of Vienna. Even Ruſſia is not unrepreſented in this miniature State.

The Elector's palace is, in point of grandeur, much better fitted to be the ſcene of diplomatic ceremonies, than thoſe of many greater Sovereigns; and it is fitted alſo for better than diplomatic purpoſes, being placed before ſome of the moſt ſtriking of nature's features, of which it is nearly as worthy an ornament as art can make. It is ſeated on the weſtern bank of the Rhine, the general courſe of which it fronts, though it forms a conſiderable angle with the part imme⯑diately neareſt. The firſt emotion, on perceiving it, being that of admiration, at its vaſtneſs, the wonder is, of courſe, equal, with which you diſcover, that it is only part of a greater deſign. It con⯑ſiſts of a centre and an eaſtern wing, which are completed, and of a weſtern wing, of which not half is yet raiſed. The extent from eaſt to weſt is ſo great, that, if we had enquired the meaſurement, [119] we ſhould have been but little aſſiſted in giving an idea of the ſpec⯑tacle, exhibited by ſo immenſe a building.

It is of ſtone, of an architecture, perhaps, not adequate to the grandeur of its extent, but which fills no part with unſuitable, or inelegant ornaments. Along the whole garden front, which is the chief, a broad terrace ſupports a promenade and an orangery of noble trees, occaſionally refreſhed by fountains, that, ornamented with ſtatues, riſe from marble bafons. An arcade through the centre of the palace leads to this terrace, from whence the proſpect is ſtrik⯑ingly beautiful and ſublime. The eye paſſes over the green lawn of the garden and a tract of level country to the groupe, called the Seven Mountains, broken, rocky and abrupt towards their ſum⯑mits, yet ſweeping finely near their baſes, and uniting with the plains by long and gradual deſcents, that ſpread round many miles. The neareſt is about a league and a half off. We ſaw them under the cloudleſs ſky of June, inveſted with the miſtineſs of heat, which, ſoftening their rocky points, and half veiling their receſſes, left much for the imagination to ſupply, and gave them an aërial appearance, a faint tint of ſilvery grey, that was inexpreſſibly intereſting. The Rhine, that winds at their feet, was concealed from us by the garden groves, but from the upper windows of the palace it is ſeen in all its majeſty.

On the right from this terrace, the ſmaller palace of Poppelſdorff terminates a long avenue of limes and cheſnut trees, that commu⯑nicates with both buildings, and above are the hill and the convent Sanctae Crucis, the latter looking out from among ſirs and ſhrubby [120] ſteeps. From thence the weſtern horizon is bounded by a range of hills, cloathed to their ſummits with wood. The plain, that extends between theſe and the Rhine, is cultivated with vines and corn, and the middle diſtance is marked by a pyramidal mountain, darkened by wood and crowned with the tower and walls of a ruined caſtle.

The gardens of the palace are formally laid out in ſtraight walks and alleys of cut trees; but the ſpacious lawn between theſe gives fine effect to the perſpective of the diſtant mountains; and the bowery walks, while they afford refreſhing ſhelter from a ſummer ſun, allow partial views of the palace and the romantic landſcape.

It was the Elector Joſeph Clement, the ſame who repaired the city, left in a ruinous ſtate by the ſiege of 1703, under the Duke of Marlborough, that built this magnificent reſidence. There are in it many ſuites of ſtate rooms and every ſort of apartment uſual in the manſions of Sovereigns; ſaloons of audience and ceremony, a library, a cabinet of natural hiſtory and a theatre. Though theſe are readily opened to ſtrangers, we are to confeſs, that we did not ſee them, being prevented by the attentions of thoſe, whoſe civi⯑lities gave them a right to command us, while their ſituations enabled them to point out the beſt occupation of our time. The hall of the grand maſter of the Teutonic order, ornamented with portraits of all the grand maſters, we are, however, ſorry to have neglected even for the delights of Poppelſdorff, which we were pre⯑ſently ſhewn.

Leaving the palace, we paſſed through the garden, on the right, to a fine avenue of turf, nearly a mile long, bordered by alleys of [121] tall trees, and ſo wide, that the late Elector had deſigned to form a canal in the middle of it, for an opportunity of paſſing between his palaces, by land, or water, as he might wiſh. The palace of Poppelſdorff terminates the perſpective of this avenue. It is a ſmall building, ſurrounded by its gardens, in a taſte not very good, and remarkable chiefly for the pleaſantneſs of its ſituation. An arcade, encompaſſing a court in the interior, communicates with all the apartments on the ground floor, which is the principal, and with the gardens, on the eaſtern ſide of the chateau. The entrance is through a ſmall hall, decorated with the enſigns of hunting, and round nearly the whole arcade ſtags' heads are placed, at equal diſtances. Theſe have remained here, ſince the reign of Clement Auguſtus, the founder of the palace, who died in 1761; and they exhibit ſome part of the hiſtory of his life; for, under each, is an inſcription, relating the events and date of the hunt, by which he killed it. There are twenty-three ſuch ornaments.

The greateſt part of the furniture had been removed, during the approach of the French, in 1792; and the Archducheſs Maria Chriſtina, to whom the Elector, her brother, had lent the chateau, was now very far from ſumptuouſly accommodated. On this account, ſhe paſſed much of her time, at Goodeſberg, a ſmall watering place in the neighbourhood. After her retreat from Bruſſels, in conſe⯑quence of the advances of the French in the ſame year, ſhe had accompanied her huſband, the Duke of Saxe Teſchen, into Saxony; but, ſince his appointment to the command of the Emperor's army [122] of the Upper Rhine, her reſidence had been eſtabliſhed in the domi⯑nions of her brother.

We were ſhewn through her apartments, which ſhe had left for Goodeſberg, a few hours before. On the table of her ſitting room lay the fragments of a painted croſs, compoſed of ſmall pieces, like our diſſected maps, the putting of which together exerciſes inge⯑nuity and paſſes, perhaps, for a ſort of piety. The attendant ſaid, that it ſerved to paſs the time; but it cannot be ſuppoſed, that rank and fortune have ſo little power to beſtow happineſs, as that their poſſeſſors ſhould have recourſe to ſuch means of lightening the hours of life.

On another table, was ſpread a map of all the countries, then included in the Theatre of War, and on it a box, filled with ſmall pieces of various coloured wax, intended to mark the poſitions of the different armies. Theſe were of many ſhades, for the Arch⯑ducheſs, who is ſaid to be converſant with military affairs and to have deſcended to the firing of bombs at the ſiege of Liſle, was able to diſtinguiſh the ſeveral corps of the allied armies, that were acting ſeparately from each other. The poſitions were marked up to the lateſt accounts then public. The courſe of her thoughts was viſible from this chart, and they were intereſting to curioſity, being thoſe of the ſiſter of the late unfortunate Queen of France.

The walls of an adjoining cabinet were ornamented with draw⯑ings from the antique by the Archducheſs, diſpoſed upon a light ground and ſerving inſtead of tapeſtry.

[123] The chapel is a rotunda, riſing into a dome, and, though ſmall, is ſplendid with painting and gilding. In the centre are four altars, formed on the four ſides of a ſquare pedeſtal, that ſupports a figure of our Saviour; but the beauty of this deſign is marred by the vanity of placing near each altar the ſtatue of a founder of the Teutonic order. The furniture of the Elector's gallery is of crimſon velvet and gold.

On another ſide of the chateau, we were ſhewn an apartment entirely covered with grotto work, and called the hall of ſhells; a curious inſtance of patient induſtry, having been completed by one man, during a labour of many years. Its ſituation in the middle of an inhabited manſion is unſuitable to the character of a grotto; but its coolneſs muſt render it a very convenient retreat, and the like⯑neſſes of animals, as well as the other forms, into which the ſhells are thrown, though not very elegant, are fanciful enough, eſpecially as the ornaments of fountains, which play into ſeveral parts of the room.

Leaving the palace by the bridge of a moat, that nearly ſurrounds it, we paſſed through the pleaſant village of Poppelſdorff, and aſcended the hill SANCTAE CRUCIS, called ſo from the convent of the ſame name, which occupies its ſummit. The road wound between thick woods, but we ſoon left it for a path, that led more immediately to the ſummit, among ſhrubs and plantations of larch and fir, and which opened into eaſy avenues of turf, that ſometimes allowed momentary views of other woody points and of the plains [124] around. The turf was uncommonly fragrant and fine, abounding with plants, which made us regret the want of a Botaniſt's know⯑ledge and pleaſures. During the aſcent, the peaked tops of the mountains of the Rhine, ſo often admired below, began to appear above a ridge of dark woods, very near us, in a contraſt of hues, which was exquiſitely fine. It was now near evening; the miſtineſs of heat was gone from the ſurface of theſe mountains, and they had aſſumed a blue tint ſo peculiar and clear, that they appeared upon the ſky, like ſupernatural tranſparencies.

We had heard, at Bonn, of the Capuchins' courteſy, and had no heſitation to knock at their gate, after taking ſome reſt in the portico of the church, from whence we looked down another ſide of the mountain, over the long plains between Bonn and Cologne. Having waited ſome time at the gate, during which many ſteps fled along the paſſage and the head of a monk appeared peeping through a window above, a ſervant admitted us into a parlour, adjoining the refectory, which appeared to have been juſt left. This was the firſt convent we had entered, and we could not help expecting to ſee more than others had deſcribed; an involuntary habit, from which few are free, and which need not be imputed to vanity, ſo long as the love of ſurpriſe ſhall be ſo viſible in human purſuits. When the lay-brother had quitted us, to inform the ſuperior of our re⯑queſt, not a footſtep, or a voice approached, for near a quarter of an hour, and the place ſeemed as if uninhabited. Our curioſity had no indulgence within the room, which was of the utmoſt plainneſs, [125] and that plainneſs free from any thing, that the moſt tractable ima⯑gination could ſuppoſe peculiar to a convent. At length, a monk appeared, who received us with infinite good humour, and with the eaſe which muſt have been acquired in more general ſociety. His ſhaven head and black garments formed a whimſical contraſt to the character of his perſon and countenance, which bore no ſymptoms of ſorrow, or penance, and were, indeed, animated by an air of cheer⯑fulneſs and intelligence, that would have become the happieſt inha⯑bitant of the gayeſt city.

Through ſome ſilent paſſages, in which he did not ſhew us a cell and we did not perceive another monk, we paſſed to the church, where the favour of ſeveral Electors has aſſiſted the diſplay of paintings, marble, ſculpture, gold and ſilver, mingled and arranged with magni⯑ficent effect. Among theſe was the marble ſtatue, brought from England, at a great expence, and here called a repreſentation of St. Anne, who is ſaid to have found the Croſs. Our conductor ſeemed to be a man of good underſtanding and deſirous of being thought ſo; a diſpoſition, which gave an awkwardneſs to his manner, when, in noticing a relic, he was obliged to touch upon ſome unproved and unimportant tradition, peculiar to his church and not eſſential to the leaſt article of our faith. His ſenſe of decorum as a member of the convent ſeemed then to be ſtruggling with his vanity, as a man.

But there are relics here, pretending to a connection with ſome parts of chriſtian hiſtory, which it is ſhocking to ſee introduced to [126] conſideration by any means ſo trivial and ſo liable to ridicule. It is, indeed, wonderful, that the abſurd exhibitions, made in Romiſh churches, ſhould ſo often be minutely deſcribed, and dwelt upon in terms of ludicrous exultation by thoſe, who do not intend that moſt malignant of offences againſt human nature, the endeavour to excite a wretched vanity by ſarcaſm and jeſt, and to employ it in eradi⯑cating the comforts of religion. To ſuch writers, the probable miſchief of uniting with the mention of the moſt important divine doctrines the moſt ridiculous of human impoſitions ought to be apparent; and, as the riſk is unneceſſary in a Proteſtant country, why is it encountered? That perſons otherwiſe inclined ſhould adopt theſe topics is not ſurpriſing; the eaſieſt pretences to wit are found to be made by means of familiar alluſions to ſacred ſubjects, becauſe their neceſſary incongruity accompliſhes the greateſt part of what, in other caſes, muſt be done by wit itſelf; there will, therefore, never be an end of ſuch alluſions, till it is generally ſeen, that they are the reſources and ſymptoms of mean underſtandings, urged by the feveriſh deſire of an eminence, to which they feel themſelves inadequate.

From the chapel we aſcended to a tower of the convent, whence all the ſcattered ſcenes, of whoſe beauty, or ſublimity, we had caught partial glimpſes between the woods below, were collected into one vaſt landſcape, and exhibited almoſt to a ſingle glance. The point, on which the convent ſtands, commands the whole horizon. To the north, ſpread the wide plains, before ſeen, covered with corn, [127] then juſt embrowned, and with vines and gardens, whoſe alternate colours formed a gay checker work with villages, convents and caſtles. The grandeur of this level was unbroken by any incloſures, that could ſeem to diminiſh its vaſtneſs. The range of woody heights, that bound it on the weſt, extend to the ſouthward, many leagues beyond the hill Sanctae Cruois; but the uniform and unbroken ridges of diſtant mountains, on the eaſt, ceaſe before the Seven Mountains riſe above the Rhine in all their awful majeſty. The baſes of the latter were yet concealed by the woody ridge near the convent, which gives ſuch enchanting effect to their aerial points. The ſky above them was clear and glowing, unſtained by the lighteſt vapour; and theſe mountains ſtill appeared upon it, like unſubſtantial viſions. On the two higheſt pinnacles we could juſt diſtinguiſh the ruins of caſtles, and, on a lower precipice, a building, which our reverend guide pointed out as a convent, dedicated to St. Bernard, giving us new occaſion to admire the fine taſte of the monks in their choice of ſituations.

Oppoſite to the Seven Mountains, the plains of Goodeſberg are ſcreened by the chain of hills already mentioned, which begin in the neighbourhood of Cologne, and whoſe woods, ſpreading into France, there aſſume the name of the Foreſt of Ardennes. Within the receſſes of theſe woods the Elector has a hunting-ſeat, almoſt every window of which opens upon a different alley, and not a ſtag can croſs theſe without being ſeen from the chateau. It is melancholy to conſider, that the moſt frequent motives of man's retirement among the beauti⯑ful [128] receſſes of nature, are only thoſe of deſtroying the innocent ani⯑mals that inhabit her ſhades. Strange! that her lovely ſcenes can⯑not ſoften his heart to milder pleaſures, or elevate his fancy to nobler purſuits, and that he muſt ſtill ſeek his amuſement in ſcattering death among the harmleſs and the happy.

As we afterwards walked in the garden of the convent, the greater part of which was planted with vines, the monk further exhibited his good humour and liberality. He enquired concerning the events of the war, of which he appeared to know the lateſt; ſpoke of his friends in Cologne and other places; drew a ludicrous picture of the effect which would be produced by the appearance of a capuchin in Lon⯑don, and laughed immoderately at it. ‘"There,"’ ſaid he, ‘"it would be ſuppoſed, that ſome harlequin was walking in a capuchin's dreſs to attract ſpectators for a pantomime; here nobody will follow him, left he ſhould lead them to church. Every nation has its way, and laughs at the ways of others. Conſidering the effects, which differ⯑ences ſometimes have, there are few things more innocent than that ſort of laughter."’

The garden was ſtored with fruits and the vegetable luxuries of the table, but was laid out with no attention to beauty, its inimitable proſpects having, as the good monk ſaid, rendered the ſociety care⯑leſs of leſs advantages. After exchanging our thanks for his civilities againſt his thanks for the viſit, we deſcended to Poppelſdorff by a ſteep road, bordered with firs and fragrant ſhrubs, which frequently opened to corn lands and vineyards, where peaſants were buſied in dreſſing the vines.

[129] About a mile from Bonn is a garden, or rather nurſery, to which they have given the name of Va [...]xhall. It is much more rural than that of London, being planted with thick and lofty groves, which, in this climate, are gratefully refreſhing, during the ſummer-day, but are very pernicious in the evening, when the vapour, ariſing from the ground, cannot eſcape through the thick foliage. The garden is lighted up only on great feſtivals, or when the Elector or his courtiers give a ball in a large room built for the purpoſe. On ſome days, half the inhabitants of Bonn are to be ſeen in this garden, mingling in the promenade with the Elector and his nobility; but there were few viſitors when we ſaw it. Count GIMNICH, the com⯑mander, who had ſurrendered Mentz to the French, was the only perſon pointed out to us.

The road from hence to Bonn was laid out and planted with pop⯑lars at the expence of the Elector, who has a taſte for works of pub⯑lic advantage and ornament. His Grand-maſterſhip of the Teutonic Order renders his Court more frequented than thoſe of the other eccle⯑ſiaſtical Princes, the poſſeſſions of that Order being ſtill conſiderable enough to ſupport many younger brothers of noble families. Having paſſed his youth in the army, or at the courts of Vienna or Bruſſels, he is alſo environed by friends, made before the vacancy of an eccleſiaſtical electorate induced him to change his profeſſion, and the union of his three incomes, as Biſhop of Munſter, Grand Maſter and Elector, enables him to ſpend ſomething more than two hundred thouſand pounds annually. His experience and revenues are, in many [130] reſpects, very uſefully employed. To the nobility he affords an example of ſo much perſonal dignity, as to be able to reject many oſtentatious cuſtoms, and to remove ſome of the ceremonial barriers, which men do not conſtantly place between themſelves and their fel⯑low-beings, except from ſome conſciouſneſs of perſonal weakneſs. All ſovereigns, who have had any ſenſe of their individual liberty and power, have ſhewn a readineſs to remove ſuch barriers; but not many have been able to effect ſo much as the Elector of Cologne againſt the chamberlains, pages, and other footmanry of their courts, who are always upon the alerte to defend the falſe magnificence that makes their offices ſeem neceſſary. He now enjoys many of the bleſſings, uſual only in private ſtations; among others, that of con⯑verſing with great numbers of perſons, not forced into his ſociety by their rank, and of diſpenſing with much of that attendance, which would render his menial ſervants part of his company.

His ſecretary, Mr. Floret, whom we had the pleaſure to ſee, gave us ſome accounts of the induſtry and carefulneſs of his private life, which he judiciouſly thought were better than any other panegyrics upon his maſter. His attention to the relief, em⯑ployment and education of the poor, to the ſtate of manufactures and the encouragement of talents, appears to be continual; and his country would ſoon have elapſed from the general wretchedneſs of Germany, if the exertions of three campaigns had not deſtroyed what thirty years of care and improvement cannot reſtore.

His reſidence at Bonn occaſions expenditure enough to keep the [131] people buſy, but he has not been able to divert to it any part of the commerce, which, though it is of ſo little uſe at Cologne, is here ſpoken of with ſome envy, and ſeems to be eſtimated above its amount. The town, which is much neater than the others in the electorate, and ſo pleaſantly ſituated, that its name has been ſuppoſed to be formed from the Latin ſynonym for good, is ornamented by few public buildings, except the palace. What is called the Univer⯑ſity is a ſmall brick building, uſed more as a ſchool than a college, except that the maſters are called profeſſors. The principal church of four, which are within the walls, is a large building, diſtinguiſhed by ſeveral ſpires, but not remarkable for its antiquity or beauty.

Many of the German powers retain ſome ſhew of a repreſentative government, as to affairs of finance, and have States, by which taxes are voted. Thoſe of the electorate of Cologne conſiſt of four colleges, repreſenting the clergy, nobility, knights and cities; the votes are given by colleges, ſo that the inhabitants of the cities, if they elect their repre⯑ſentatives fairly, have one vote in four. Theſe States aſſemble at Bonn.

One of the privileges, which it is ſurpriſing that the preſent Elector ſhould retain, is that of grinding corn for the conſumption of the whole town. His mill, like thoſe of all the towns on the Rhine, is a floating one, moored in the river, which turns its wheel. Bread is bad at Bonn; but this oppreſſive privilege is not entirely anſwerable for it, there being little better throughout the whole country. It generally appears in rolls, with glazed cruſts, half hollow; the crumb not brown, but a ſort of dirty white.

[132] There are few cities in Germany without walls, which, when the dreadful ſcience of war was leſs advanced than at preſent, frequently protected them againſt large armies. Theſe are now ſo uſeleſs, that ſuch cannon as are employed againſt batteries could probably not be fired from them without ſhaking their foundations. The fortifica⯑tions of Bonn are of this ſort; and, though they were doubtleſs bet⯑ter, when the Duke of Marlborough arrived before them, it is won⯑derful that they ſhould have ſuſtained a regular ſiege, during which great part of the town was demoliſhed. The electorate of Cologne is, indeed, ſo ill prepared for war, that it has not one town, which could reſiſt ten thouſand men for three days.

The inhabitants of Bonn, whenever they regret the loſs of their fortifications, ſhould be reminded of the three ſieges, which, in the courſe of thirty years, nearly deſtroyed their city. Of theſe the firſt was in 1673, when the Elector had received a French garriſon into it; but the reſiſtance did not then continue many days. It was in this ſiege that the Prince of Orange, afterwards our honoured William the Third, had one of his few military ſucceſſes. In 1689, the French, who had lately defended it, returned to attack it; and, before they could ſubdue the ſtrong garriſon left in it by the Elector of Brandenburg, the palace and ſeveral public buildings were de⯑ſtroyed. The third ſiege was commanded by the Duke of Marlbo⯑rough, and continued from the 24th of April to the 16th of May, the French being then the defenders, and the celebrated Cohorn one of the aſſailants. It was not till fifteen years afterwards, that all the [133] houſes, demoliſhed in this ſiege, could be reſtored by the efforts of the Elector Joſeph.

The preſent Elector maintains, in time of peace, about eight hun⯑dred ſoldiers, which is the number of his contingent to the army of the Empire: in the preſent war he has ſupplied ſomewhat more than this allotment; and, when we were at Bonn, two thouſand recruits were in training. His troops wear the general uniform of the Empire, blue faced with red, which many of the Germanic ſovereigns give only to their contingent troops, while thoſe of their ſeparate eſtabliſh⯑ments are diſtinguiſhed by other colours. The Auſtrian regiments are chiefly in white, faced with light blue, grey, or red; but the artillery are dreſſed, with very little ſhew, in a cloak ſpeckled with light brown.

Bonn was one of the very few places in Germany, which we left with regret. It is endeared to the votaries of landſcape by its ſitua⯑tion in the midſt of fruitful plains, in the preſence of ſtupendous mountains, and on the bank of a river, that, in ſummer, is impelled by the diſſolved ſnows of Switzerland, and, in winter, rolls with the accumulation of a thouſand torrents from the rocks on its ſhores. It contained many inhabitants, who had the independence to aim at a juſt taſte in morals and letters, in ſpite of the ill examples with which ſuch countries ſupply them; and, having the vices of the form of government, eſtabliſhed in it, corrected by the moderation and imme⯑diate attention of the governor, it might be conſidered as a happy region in the midſt of ignorance, injuſtice and miſery, and remem⯑bered [134] like the green ſpot, that, in an Arabian deſert, cheers the ſenſes and ſuſtains the hopes of the weary traveller.

GOODESBERG.

THE ride from Bonn to this delightful village is only one league over a narrow plain, covered with corn and vineyards. On our right was the range of hills, before ſeen from the mountain SANCTAE CRUCIS, ſweeping into frequent receſſes, and ſtarting for⯑ward into promontories, with inequalities, which gave exquiſite rich⯑neſs to the foreſt, that mantled from their baſes to their utmoſt ſum⯑mits. Many a lurking village, with its ſlender grey ſteeple, peeped from among the woody ſkirts of theſe hills. On our left, the tremen⯑dous mountains, that bind the eaſtern ſhore of the Rhine, gradually loſt their aërial complexion, as we approached them, and diſplayed new features and new enchantments; an ever-varying illuſion, to which the tranſient circumſtance of thunder clouds contributed. The ſun-beams, ſtreaming among theſe clouds, threw partial gleams upon the precipices, and, followed by dark ſhadows, gave ſurpriſing and inimitable effect to the natural colouring of the mountains, whoſe pointed tops we now diſcerned to be covered with dark heath, extended down their rocky ſides, and mingled with the reddiſh and light yellow tints of other vegetation and the ſoil. It was delightful to watch the ſhadows ſweeping over theſe ſteeps, now involving them [135] in deep obſcurity, and then leaving them to the ſun's rays, which brought out all their hues into vivid contraſt.

Near Goodeſberg, a ſmall mountain, inſulated, abrupt and pyra⯑midal, riſes from the plain, which it ſeems to terminate, and conceals the village, that lies along its ſouthern ſkirt. This mountain, covered with vineyards and thick dwarf wood to its ſummit, where one high tower and ſome ſhattered walls appear, is a very intereſting object.

At the entrance of the village, the road was obſtructed by a great number of ſmall carts, filled with ſoldiers apparently wounded. The line of their proceſſion had been broken by ſome carriages, haſtening with company to the ridotto at Goodeſberg, and was not eaſily reſtored. Miſery and feſtivity could ſcarcely be brought into cloſer contraſt. We thought of Johnſon's ‘"many-coloured life,"’ and of his picture, in the preface to Shakeſpeare, of cotemporary wretchedneſs and joy, when ‘"the reveller is haſtening to his wine, and the mourner is burying his friend."’ This was a proceſſion of wounded French priſoners, chiefly boys, whoſe appearance had, indeed, led us to ſuſpect their nation, before we ſaw the ſtamp of the faſces, and the words ‘"Republique Françoiſe"’ upon the buttons of ſome, whom our driver had nearly overſet. The few, that could raiſe themſelves above the floor of their carts, ſhewed countenances yellow, or livid with ſickneſs. They did not talk to their guards, nor did the latter ſhew any ſigns of exultation over them.

In a plain, beyond the village, a row of large houſes, built upon one plan, and almoſt reſembling a palace, form the little watering [136] place of Goodeſberg, which has been founded partly at the expence of the Elector, and partly by individuals under his patronage. One of the houſes was occupied by the Archducheſs, his ſiſter, and is often uſed by the Elector, who is extremely ſolicitous for the proſperity of the place. A large building at the end contains the public rooms, and is fitted up as an hotel.

The ſituation of this houſe is beautiful beyond any hope or power of deſcription; for deſcription, though it may tell that there are mountains and rocks, cannot paint the grandeur, or the elegance of outline, cannot give the effect of precipices, or draw the minute fea⯑tures, that reward the actual obſerver by continual changes of colour, and by varying their forms at every new choice of his poſition. Delightful Goodeſberg! the ſublime and beautiful of landſcape, the charms of muſic, and the pleaſures of gay and elegant ſociety, were thine! The immediate unhappineſs of war has now fallen upon thee; but, though the graces may have fled thee, thy terrible majeſty remains, beyond the ſphere of human contention.

The plain, that contains the village and the Spa, is about five miles in length and of half that breadth. It is covered by unin⯑cloſed corn and nearly ſurrounded by a vaſt amphitheatre of moun⯑tains. In front of the inn, at the diſtance of half a league, extend, along the oppoſite ſhore of the Rhine, the Seven Mountains, ſo long ſeen and admired, which here aſſume a new attitude. The three talleſt points are now neareſt to the eye, and the lower mountains are ſeen either in the perſpective between them, or ſinking, with [137] leſs abrupt declivities, into the plains, on the north. The whole maſs exhibits a grandeur of outline, ſuch as the pencil only can deſcribe; but fancy may paint the ſtupendous precipices of rock, that riſe over the Rhine, the rich tuftings of wood, that emboſs the cliffs or lurk within the receſſes, the ſpiry ſummits and the ruined caſtles, faintly diſcerned, that crown them. Yet the appearance of theſe mountains, though more grand, from Goodeſberg, is leſs ſublime than from Bonn; for the nearneſs, which increaſes their grandeur, diminiſhes their ſublimity by removing the obſcurity that had veiled them. To the ſouth of this plain, the long perſpective is croſſed by further ranges of mountains, which open to glimpſes of others ſtill beyond; an endleſs ſucceſſion of ſummits, that lead on the imagination to unknown vallies and regions of ſolitary obſcurity.

Amidſt ſo many attractions of nature, art cannot do much. The little, which it attempts, at Goodeſberg, is the diſpoſition of ſome walks from the houſes to a ſpring, which is ſaid to reſemble that at Spa, and through the woods above it. Twice a week there are ſome muſical performances and a ball given by the Elector, who frequently appears, and with the eaſe and plainneſs of a private gen⯑tleman. At theſe entertainments the company, viſiting the ſpring, are joined by neighbouring families, ſo as to be in number ſixty, or a hundred. The balls, agreeably to the earlineſs of German hours, begin at ſix; and that, which we meant to ſee, was nearly concluded before our arrival. The company then retired to a public [138] game, at which large ſums of gold were riſked, and a ſevere anxiety defied the influence of Mozart's muſic, that continued to be played by an excellent orcheſtra. The dreſſes of the company were in the Engliſh taſte, and, as we were glad to believe, chiefly of Engliſh manufacture; the wearing of countenances by play appears to be alſo according to our manners, and the German ladies, with features ſcarcely leſs elegant, have complexions, perhaps, finer than are gene⯑ral in England.

Meditating cenſures againſt the Elector's policy, or careleſſneſs, in this reſpect, we took advantage of the laſt gleams of evening, to aſcend the ſlender and ſpiry mountain, which bears the name of the village, and appears ready to precipitate the ruins of its antient caſtle upon it. A ſteep road, winding among vineyards and dwarf wood, enters, at the ſummit of the mountain, the broken walls, which ſurround the ancient citadel of the caſtle; an almoſt ſolid building, that has exiſted for more than five centuries. From the area of theſe ruins we ſaw the ſun ſet over the whole line of plains, that extend to the weſtward of Cologne, whoſe ſpires were diſtinctly viſible. Bonn, and the hill SANCTAE CRUCIS, appeared at a league's diſtance, and the windings of the Rhine gleamed here and there amidſt the rich ſcene, like diſtant lakes. It was a ſtill and beautiful evening, in which no ſhade remained of the thunder clouds, that paſſed in the day. To the weſt, under the glow of ſun-ſet, the landſcape melted into the horizon in tints ſo ſoft, ſo clear, ſo deli⯑cately roſeate as Claude only could have painted. Viewed, as we then [139] ſaw it, beyond a deep and dark arch of the ruin, its effect was en⯑chanting; it was to the eye, what the fineſt ſtrains of Paiſiello are to the heart, or the poetry of Collins is to the fancy—all tender, ſweet, elegant and glowing.

From the other ſide of the hill the character of the view is entirely different, and, inſtead of a long proſpect over an open and level country, the little plain of Goodeſberg appears repoſing amidſt wild and awful mountains. Theſe were now melancholy and ſilent; the laſt rays were fading from their many points, and the obſcurity of twilight began to ſpread over them. We ſeemed to have found the ſpot, for which Collins wiſhed:

And this is a place almoſt as renowned in the hiſtory of the country, as it is worthy to exerciſe the powers of poetry and paint⯑ing. The ſame Erneſt, in the cauſe of whoſe ſovereignty the maſſa⯑cre of Neuſs was perpetrated, beſieged here the ſame Gerard de Truſches, the Elector, who had embraced the Proteſtant religion, and for whom Neuſs held out. The caſtle of Goodeſberg was impreg⯑nable, except by famine, but was very liable to that from its inſu⯑lated ſituation, and the eaſe, with which the whole baſe of the [140] mountain could be ſurrounded. Gerard's defence was rendered the more obſtinate by his belief, that nothing leſs than his life, and that of a beautiful woman, the marrying of whom had conſtituted one of the offences againſt his Chapter, would appeaſe his ferocious ene⯑mies. He was perſonally beloved by his garriſon, and they adhered to him with the affection of friends, as well as with the enthuſiaſm of ſoldiers. When, therefore, they perceived, that their ſurrender could not be much longer protracted, they reſolved to employ their remaining time and ſtrength in enabling him to ſeparate his for⯑tunes from theirs. They laboured inceſſantly in forming a ſubter⯑raneous paſſage, which ſhould open beyond the beſiegers' lines; and, though their diſtreſs became extreme before this was completed, they made no overtures for a ſurrender, till Gerard and his wife had eſcaped by it. The fugitives arrived ſafely in Holland, and the vengeance of their adverſaries was never gratified further than by hearing, many years after, that they died poor.

The fortreſs, rendered intereſting by theſe traits of fidelity and misfortune, is not ſo far decayed, but that its remains exhibit much of its original form. It covered the whole ſummit of the hill, and was valuable as a reſidence, as well as a fortification. What ſeem to have been the walls of the great hall, in which probably the horn of two quarts was often emptied to welcome the gueſt, or reward the ſoldier, are ſtill perfect enough to preſerve the arches of its capacious win⯑dows, and the door-ways, that admitted its feſtive trains. The vaſt ſtrength of the citadel has been unſubdued by war, or time. Though [141] the battlements, that crown it, are broken, and of a gallery, that once encircled it half way from the ground, the corbells alone remain, the ſolid walls of the building itſelf are unimpaired. At the narrow door-way, by which only it could be entered, we meaſured their thickneſs, and found it to be more than ten feet, nearly half the diameter of its area. There has never been a fixed ſtaircaſe, though theſe walls would ſo well have contained one; and the hole is ſtill perfect in the floor above, through which the garriſon aſcended and drew up their ladder after them. Behind the loop-holes, the wall has been hollowed, and would permit a ſoldier, half bent, to ſtand within them and uſe his bow. It was twilight without and night within the edifice; which fancy might have eaſily filled with the ſtern and ſilent forms of warriors, waiting for their prey, with the patience of ſafety and ſure ſuperiority.

We wandered long among theſe veſtiges of ancient ſtory, rendered ſtill more intereſting by the ſhadowy hour and the veſper bell of a chapel on a cliff below. The village, to which this belongs, ſtraggles half way up the mountain, and there are ſeveral little ſhrines above it, which the cottagers, on feſtivals, decorate with flowers. The Prieſt is the ſchoolmaſter of the pariſh, and almoſt all the children, within ſeveral miles of the hill, walk to it, every day, to prayers and leſſons. Whether it is from this care of their minds, or that they are under the authority of milder landlords than elſewhere, the manners of the inhabitants in this plain differ much from thoſe, uſual in Germany. Inſtead of an inveterate ſullenneſs, approaching frequently to malig⯑nity, [142] they ſhew a civility and gentleneſs in their intercourſe with ſtrangers, which leave the enjoyments derived from inanimate nature, unalloyed by the remembrances of human deformity, that mingle with them in other diſtricts. Even the children's begging is in a manner, which ſhews a different character. They here kiſs their little hands, and ſilently hold them out to you, almoſt as much in ſalute, as in entreaty; in many parts of Germany their manner is ſo offenſive, not only for its intruſion, but as a ſymptom of their diſpo⯑ſition, that nothing but the remembrance of the oppreſſion, that pro⯑duces it, can prevent you from denying the little they are compelled to require.

The muſic had not ceaſed, when we returned to the inn; and the mellowneſs of French horns, mingled with the tenderneſs of haut⯑boys, gave a kind of enchantment to the ſcenery, which we con⯑tinued to watch from our windows. The oppoſite mountains of the Rhine were gradually vaniſhing in twilight and then as gradually re-appearing, as the riſing moon threw her light upon their broken ſurfaces. The perſpective in the eaſt received a ſilvery ſoftneſs, which made its heights appear like ſhadowy illuſions, while the nearer mountains were diſtinguiſhed by their colouring, as much as by their forms. The broad Rhine, at their feet, rolled a ſtream of light for their boundary, on this ſide. But the firſt exquiſite tint of beauty ſoon began to fade; the mountains became miſty underneath the moon, and, as ſhe aſcended, theſe miſts thickened, till they veiled the landſcape from our view.

[143] The ſpring, which is ſuppoſed to have ſome medicinal qualities, is about a quarter of a mile from the rooms, in a woody valley, in which the Elector has laid out ſeveral roads and walks. It riſes in a ſtone baſon, to which the company, if they wiſh to drink it on the ſpot, deſcend by an handſome flight of ſteps. We were not told its qualities, but there is a ferrugineous tint upon all the ſtones, which it touches. The taſte is ſlightly unpleaſant.

The three ſuperior points of the Seven Mountains, which contri⯑bute ſo much to the diſtinction of Goodeſberg, are called Draken⯑fels, Wolkenbourg and Lowenbourg, and have each been crowned by its caſtle, of which two are ſtill viſible in ruins. There is a ſtory faintly recorded, concerning them. Three brothers, reſolving to found three diſtinguiſhed families, took the method, which was anciently in uſe for ſuch a purpoſe, that of eſtabliſhing themſelves in fortreſſes, from whence they could iſſue out, and take what they wanted from their induſtrious neighbours. The pinnacles of Dra⯑kenfels, Wolkenbourg and Lowenbourg, which, with all aſſiſtance, cannot be aſcended now, without the utmoſt fatigue, were inacceſ⯑ſible, when guarded by the caſtles, built by the three brothers. Their depredations, which they called ſucceſſes in war, enriched their families, and placed them amongſt the moſt diſtinguiſhed in the empire.

They had a ſiſter, named Adelaide, famed to have been very beau⯑tiful; and, their parents being dead, the care of her had deſcended to them. Roland, a young knight, whoſe caſtle was on the oppoſite [144] bank of the Rhine, became her ſuitor, and gained her affections. Whether the brothers had expected, by her means, to form a more ſplendid alliance, or that they remembered the ancient enmity be⯑tween their family and that of Roland, they ſecretly reſolved to deny the hand of Adelaide, but did not chooſe to provoke him by a direct refuſal. They ſtipulated, that he ſhould ſerve, a certain num⯑ber of years, in the war of Paleſtine, and, on his return, ſhould be permitted to renew his ſuit.

Roland took a reluctant farewell of Adelaide, and went to the war, where he was ſoon diſtinguiſhed for an impetuous career. Adelaide remained in the caſtle of Drakenfels, waiting, in ſolitary fidelity, for his return. But the brothers had determined, that he ſhould not return for her. They clothed one of their dependents in the diſguiſe of a pilgrim, and introduced him into the caſtle, where he related, that he was arrived from the holy wars, and had been deſired by Roland in his lateſt moments to aſſure Adelaide of his having loved her till death.

The unhappy Adelaide believed the tale, and, from that time, devoted herſelf to the memory of Roland and to the nouriſhment of her ſorrow. She rejected all the ſuitors, introduced by her brothers, and accepted no ſociety, but that of ſome neighbouring nuns. At length, the gloom of a cloiſter became ſo neceſſary to the melancholy of her imagination, that ſhe reſolved to found a con⯑vent and take the veil; a deſign, which her brothers aſſiſted, with the view of placing her effectually beyond the reach of her lover. [145] She choſe an iſland in the Rhine between her brother's caſtle and the ſeat of Roland, both of which ſhe could ſee from the windows of her convent; and here ſhe paſſed ſome years in the placid per⯑formance of her new duties.

At length, Roland returned, and they both diſcovered the cruel device, by which they had been ſeparated for ever. Adelaide remained in her convent, and ſoon after died; but Roland, emu⯑lating the fidelity of her retirement, built, at the extreme point of his domains towards the Rhine, a ſmall caſtle, that over⯑looked the iſland, where he waſted his days in melancholy regret, and in watching over the walls, that ſhrouded his Adelaide.

This is the ſtory, on which the wild and vivid imagination of Arioſto is ſaid to have founded his Orlando.

THE VALLEY OF ANDERNACH.

AFTER ſpending part of two days at Goodeſberg, we ſet out, in a ſultry afternoon, for the town of Andernach, diſtant about five-and-twenty Engliſh miles. The road wound among corn⯑lands towards the Rhine, and approached almoſt as near to the Seven Mountains, as the river would permit. Oppoſite to the laſt, and nearly the talleſt of theſe, called Drakenfels, the open plain termi⯑nates, and the narrower valley begins.

[146] This mountain towers, the majeſtic ſentinel of the river over which it aſpires, in vaſt maſſes of rock, varied with rich tuftings of dwarf⯑wood, and bearing on its narrow peak the remains of a caſtle, whoſe walls ſeem to riſe in a line with the perpendicular precipice, on which they ſtand, and, when viewed from the oppoſite bank, appear little more than a rugged cabin. The eye aches in attempting to ſcale this rock; but the ſublimity of its height and the grandeur of its inter⯑mingled cliffs and woods gratify the warmeſt wiſh of fancy.

The road led us along the weſtern bank of the Rhine among vine⯑yards, and corn, and thick trees, that allowed only tranſient catches of the water between their branches; but the gigantic form of Draken⯑fels was always ſeen, its ſuperior features, perhaps, appearing more wild, from the partial concealment of its baſe, and aſſuming new atti⯑tudes as we paſſed away from it. Lowenberg, whoſe upper region only had been ſeen from Goodeſberg, ſoon unfolded itſelf from be⯑hind Drakenfels, and diſplayed all its pomp of wood, ſweeping from the ſpreading baſe in one uninterrupted line of grandeur to the ſpiry top, on which one high tower of the caſtle appears enthroned among the foreſts. This is the loftieſt of the Seven Mountains; and its dark ſides, where no rock is viſible, form a fine contraſt with the broken cliffs of Drakenfels. A multitude of ſpiry ſummits appeared beyond Lowenberg, ſeen and loſt again, as the nearer rocks of the ſhore opened to the diſtance, or re-united. About a mile further, lies the pleaſant iſland, on which Adelaide raiſed her convent. As it was well endowed, it has been rebuilt, and is now a large and hand⯑ſome [147] quadrangle of white ſtone, ſurrounded with trees, and corn, and vineyards, and ſtill allotted to the ſociety, which ſhe eſtabliſhed. An abrupt, but not lofty rock, on the weſtern ſhore of the Rhine, called Rolands Eck, or Roland's Corner, is the ſite of her lover's caſtle, of which one arch, pictureſquely ſhadowed with wood, is all that remains of this monument to faithful love. The road winds beneath it, and nearly overhangs the narrow channel, that ſeparates Adelaide's iſland from the ſhore. Concerning this rock there is an ancient rhyme in the country, amounting to ſomething like the following:

After paſſing the iſland, the valley contracts, and the river is ſoon ſhut up between fruitful and abrupt hills, which riſe immediately over it, on one ſide, and a ſeries of rocky heights on the other. In the ſmall ſpace, left between theſe heights and the Rhine, the road is formed. For the greater part of the way, it has been hollowed in the ſolid rock, which aſcends almoſt perpendicularly above it, on one hand, and ſinks as abruptly below it, to the river, on the other; a work worthy of Roman perſeverance and deſign, and well known to be a monument of both. It was made during the reign of Marcus Aurelius and Lucius Verus; and as the inſcription, whoſe antiquity has not been doubted, dates its completion in the year 162, it muſt have been finiſhed in one year, or little more, Marcus Aurelius having [148] been raiſed to the purple in 161. The Elector Palatine having re⯑paired this road, which the Electors of Cologne had neglected, in 1768, has cauſed his name to be joined with thoſe of the Roman Emperors, in the following inſcription upon an obliſk: ‘VIAM
SUB M.
AURELIO
ET L. VERO
I. M. P. P.
ANNO CHR.
CLXII
MUNITAM
CAROLUS
THEODORUS
ELECTOR PAL.
DUX BAV. JUL. CL. M.
REFECIT
ET AMPLIAVIT
AN. M. DCCLXVIII
CURANTE JO. LUD. COMITE
DE GOLDSTEIN
PRO PRINCIPE.’

We did not ſufficiently obſerve the commencement and conclu⯑ſion of this road, to be certain of its exact length; but it is probably about twelve miles. The rock above is, for the moſt part, naked to the ſummit, where it is thinly covered with earth; but ſometimes it ſlopes ſo much as to permit patches of ſoil on its ſide, and theſe are [149] carefully planted with vines. This ſhore of the Rhine may be ſaid to be bounded, for many miles, by an immenſe wall of rock, through which the openings into the country behind are few; and theſe breaks ſhew only deep glens, ſeen and loſt again ſo quickly, that a woody mountain, or a caſtle, or a convent, were the only objects we could aſcertain.

This rock lies in oblique ſtrata, and reſembles marble in its brown and reddiſh tints, marked with veins of deeper red; but we are unable to mention it under its proper and ſcientific denomination. The colouring of the cliffs is beautiful, when mingled with the verdure of ſhrubs, that ſometimes hang in rich drapery from their points, and with the moſſes, and creeping vegetables of bright crimſon, yellow, and purple, that emboſs their fractured ſides.

The road, which the Elector mentions himſelf to have widened, is now and then very narrow, and approaches near enough to the river, over which it has no parapet, to make a traveller anxious for the ſobriety and ſkill of his poſtillion. It is ſometimes elevated forty feet above the level of the Rhine, and ſeldom leſs than thirty; an ele⯑vation from whence the water and its ſcenery are viewed to great advantage; but to the variety and grandeur of theſe ſhores, and the ever changing form of the river, deſcription cannot do juſtice.

Sometimes, as we approached a rocky point, we ſeemed going to plunge into the expanſe of water beyond; when, turning the ſharp angle of the promontory, the road ſwept along an ample bay, where the rocks, receding, formed an amphitheatre, covered with ilex and [150] dwarf-wood, round a narrow, but cultivated level ſtripe: then, wind⯑ing the furtheſt angle of this creſcent, under huge cliffs, we ſaw the river beyond, ſhut in by the folding baſes of more diſtant promonto⯑ries, aſſume the form of a lake, amidſt wild and romantic landſcapes. Having doubled one of theſe capes, the proſpect opened in long per⯑ſpective, and the green waters of the Rhine appeared in all their majeſty, flowing rapidly between ranges of marbled rocks, and a ſuc⯑ceſſion of woody ſteeps, and overlooked by a multitude of ſpiry ſum⯑mits, which diſtance had ſweetly coloured with the blue and purple tints of air.

The retroſpect of the river, too, was often enchanting, and the Seven Mountains long maintained their dignity in the ſcene, ſuperior to many intervening heights; the dark ſummit of Lowenburg, in particular, appeared, for ſeveral leagues, overlooking the whole valley of the Rhine.

The eaſtern margin of the river ſometimes exhibited as extenſive a range of ſteep rocks as the weſtern, and frequently the fitneſs of the ſalient angles on one ſide, to the recipient ones on the other, ſeemed to juſtify the ſpeculation, that they had been divided by an earth⯑quake, which let the river in between them. The general ſtate of the eaſtern bank, though ſteep, is that of the thickeſt cultivation. The rock frequently peeps, in rugged projections, through the thin ſoil, which is ſcattered over its declivity, and every where appears at top; but the ſides are covered with vines ſo abundantly, that the labour of cultivating them, and of expreſſing the wine, ſupports a [151] village at leaſt at every half mile. The green rows are led up the ſteeps to an height, which cannot be aſcended without the help of ſteps cut in the rock: the ſoil itſelf is there ſupported by walls of looſe ſtones, or it would fall either by its own weight, or with the firſt preſſure of rain; and ſometimes even this ſcanty mould appears to have been placed there by art, being in ſuch ſmall patches, that, perhaps, only twenty vines can be planted in each. But ſuch exceſ⯑ſive labour has been neceſſary only towards the ſummits, for, lower down, the ſoil is ſufficiently deep to ſupport the moſt luxuriant vege⯑tation.

It might be ſuppoſed from ſo much produce and exertion, that this bank of the Rhine is the reſidence of an opulent, or, at leaſt, a well⯑conditioned peaſantry, and that the villages, of which ſeven or eight are frequently in ſight at once, are as ſuperior to the neighbouring towns by the ſtate of their inhabitants, as they are by their pictu⯑reſque ſituation. On the contrary, the inhabitants of the wine country are ſaid to be amongſt the pooreſt in Germany. The value of every hill is exactly watched by the landlords, ſo that the tenants are very ſeldom benefited by any improvement of its produce. If the rent is paid in money, it leaves only ſo much in the hands of the farmer as will enable him to live, and pay his workmen; while the attention of a great number of ſtewards is ſuppoſed to ſupply what might be expected from his attention, had he a common intereſt with his landlord in the welfare of the eſtate. But the rent is fre⯑quently paid in kind, amounting to a ſettled proportion of the pro⯑duce; [152] and this proportion is ſo fixed, that, though the farmer is immoderately diſtreſſed by a bad vintage, the beſt will not afford him any means of approaching to independence. In other countries it might be aſked, ‘"But, though we can ſuppoſe the ingenuity of the landlord to be greater than that of the tenant, at the commencement of a bargain, how happens it, that, ſince the reſult muſt be felt, the tenant will remain under his burthens, or can be ſucceeded by any other, on ſuch terms?"’ Here, however, theſe queſtions are not appli⯑cable; they preſume a choice of ſituations, which the country does not afford. The ſeverity of the agricultural ſyſtem continues itſelf by continuing the poverty, upon which it acts; and thoſe, who would eſcape from it find few manufactures and little trade to em⯑ploy them, had they the capital and the education neceſſary for either. The choice of ſuch perſons is between the being a maſter of day-labourers for their landlord, or a labourer under other maſters.

Many of theſe eſtates belong immediately to Princes, or Chapters, whoſe ſtewards ſuperintend the cultivation, and are themſelves inſtead of the farmers, ſo that all other perſons employed in ſuch vineyards are ordinary ſervants. By one or other of theſe means it happens, that the bounteouſneſs of nature to the country is very little felt by the body of the inhabitants. The payment of rents in kind is uſual, wherever the vineyards are moſt celebrated; and, at ſuch places, there is this ſure proof of the wretchedneſs of the inhabitants, that, in a month after the wine is made, you cannot obtain one bottle of the true produce, except by favour of the proprietors, or their ſtewards. [153] How much is the delight of looking upon plenteouſneſs leſſened by the belief, that it ſupplies the means of exceſs to a few, but denies thoſe of competence to many!

Between this paſs of cultivated ſteeps on one ſide of the river, and of romantic rocks on the other, the road continues for ſeveral miles. Being thus commanded on both ſides, it muſt be one of the moſt dif⯑ficult paſſages in Europe to an enemy, if reſolutely defended. The Rhine, pent between theſe impenetrable boundaries, is conſiderably narrower here than in other parts of the valley, and ſo rapid, that a loaded veſſel can ſeldom be drawn faſter than at the rate of ſix Engliſh miles a day, againſt the ſtream. The paſſage down the river from Mentz to Cologne may be eaſily performed in two days; that from Cologne to Mentz requires a fortnight.

The view along this paſs, though bounded, is various and change⯑ful. Villages, vineyards and rocks alternately ornament the borders of the river, and every fifty yards enable the eye to double ſome maſſy projection that concealed the fruitful bay behind. An object at the end of the paſs is preſented ſingly to the ſight as through an inverted teleſcope. The ſurface of the water, or the whole ſtillneſs of the ſcene, was very ſeldom interrupted by the paſſing of a boat; carriages were ſtill fewer; and, indeed, throughout Germany, you will not meet more than one in twenty miles. Travelling is conſi⯑dered by the natives, who know the fatigue of going in carriages nearly without ſprings, and ſtopping at inns where there is little of either accommodation or civility, as productive of no pleaſure; and [154] they have ſeldom curioſity or buſineſs enough to recompenſe for its inconveniencies.

We paſſed through two or three ſmall towns, whoſe ruined gates and walls told of their antiquity, and that they had once been held of ſome conſequence in the defence of the valley. Their preſent deſo⯑lation formed a melancholy contraſt with the cheerful cultivation around them. Theſe, however, with every village in our way, were decorated with green boughs, planted before the door of each cot⯑tage, for it was a day of feſtival. The little chapels at the road-ſide, and the image, which, every now and then, appeared under a ſpread⯑ing tree, were adorned with wreaths of freſh flowers; and though one might ſmile at the emblems of ſuperſtition, it was impoſſible not to reverence the ſentiment of pious affection, which had adjuſted theſe ſimple ornaments.

About half-way to Andernach, the weſtern rocks ſuddenly recede from the river, and, riſing to greater height, form a grand ſweep round a plain cultivated with orchards, garden-fields, corn and vine⯑yards. The valley here ſpreads to a breadth of nearly a mile and an half, and exhibits grandeur, beauty and barren ſublimity, united in a ſingular manner. The abrupt ſteeps, that riſe over this plain, are entirely covered with wood, except that here and there the ravage of a winter torrent appeared, which could ſometimes be traced from the very ſummit of the acclivity to the baſe. Near the centre, this noble amphitheatre opens to a glen, that ſhews only wooded moun⯑tains, point above point, in long perſpective; ſuch ſylvan pomp we [155] had ſeldom ſeen! But though the tuftings of the nearer woods were beautifully luxuriant, there ſeemed to be few timber trees amongſt them. The oppoſite ſhore exhibited only a range of rocks, varie⯑gated like marble, of which purple was the predominating tint, and uniformly diſpoſed in vaſt, oblique ſtrata. But even here, little green patches of vines peeped among the cliffs, and were led up crevices where it ſeemed as if no human foot could reſt. Along the baſe of this tremendous wall, and on the points above, villages, with each its tall, grey ſteeple, were thickly ſtrewn, thus mingling in ſtriking con⯑traſt the cheerfulneſs of populous inhabitation with the horrors of untamed nature. A few monaſteries, reſembling caſtles in their extent, and known from ſuch only by their ſpires, were diſtinguiſh⯑able; and, in the widening perſpective of the Rhine, an old caſtle itſelf, now and then, appeared on the ſummit of a mountain ſome⯑what remote from the ſhore; an object rendered ſweetly pictureſque, as the ſun's rays lighted up its towers and fortified terraees, while the ſhrubby ſteeps below were in ſhade.

We ſaw this landſcape under the happieſt circumſtances of ſeaſon and weather; the woods and plants were in their midſummer bloom, and the mellow light of evening heightened the richneſs of their hues, and gave exquiſite effect to one half of the amphitheatre we were paſſing, while the other half was in ſhadow. The air was ſcented by bean-bloſſoms, and by lime-trees then in flower, that bordered the road. If this plain had mingled paſture with its groves, it would have been truly Arcadian; but neither here, nor through the whole [156] of this delightful valley, did we ſee a ſingle paſture or meadow, except now and then in an iſland on the Rhine; deficiencies which are here ſupplied, to the lover of landſcape, by the verdure of the woods and vines. In other parts of Germany they are more to be regretted, where, frequently, only corn and rock colour the land.

Fatigued at length by ſuch prodigality of beauty, we were glad to be ſhrouded awhile from the view of it, among cloſe boughs, and to ſee only the wide rivulets, with their ruſtic bridges of faggots and earth, that, deſcending from among the mountains, frequently croſſed our way; or the ſimple peaſant-girl, leading her cows to feed on the narrow ſtripe of graſs that margined the road. The little bells, that jingled at their necks, would not ſuffer them to ſtray beyond her hearing. If we had not long ſince diſmiſſed our ſurpriſe at the ſcarcity and bad quality of cheeſe and butter in Germany, we ſhould have done ſo now, on perceiving this ſcanty method of paſturing the cattle, which future obſervation convinced us was the frequent practice.

About ſun-ſet we reached the little village of Namedy, ſeated near the foot of a rock, round which the Rhine makes a ſudden ſweep, and, contracted by the bold precipices of Hammerſtein on the oppo⯑ſite ſhore, its green current paſſes with aſtoniſhing rapidity and ſounding ſtrength. Theſe circumſtances of ſcenery, with the tall maſts of veſſels lying below the ſhrubby bank, on which the village ſtands, and ſeeming to heighten by compariſon the ſtupendous rocks, that roſe around them; the moving figures of boatmen and horſes [157] employed in towing a barge againſt the ſtream, in the bay beyond; and a group of peaſants on the high quay, in the fore ground, watching their progreſs; the ancient caſtle of Hammerſtein over⯑looking the whole—theſe were a combination of images, that formed one of the moſt intereſting pictures we had ſeen.

The valley again expanding, the walls and turrets of Andernach, with its Roman tower riſing independently at the foot of a moun⯑tain, and the ruins of its caſtle above, appeared athwart the perſpec⯑tive of the river, terminating the paſs; for there the rocky boun⯑dary opened to plains and remote mountains. The light vapour, that roſe from the water, and was tinged by the ſetting rays, ſpread a purple haze over the town and the cliffs, which, at this diſtance appeared to impend over it; colouring extremely beautiful, contraſted as it was by the clearer and deeper tints of rocks, wood and water nearer to the eye.

As we approached Andernach, its ſituation ſeemed to be perpe⯑tually changing, with the winding bank. Now it appeared ſeated on a low peninſula, that nearly croſſed the Rhine, overhung by roman⯑tic rocks; but this viſion vaniſhed as we advanced, and we per⯑ceived the town lying along a curving ſhore, near the foot of the cliffs, which were finely fringed with wood, and at the entrance of extenſive plains. Its towers ſeen afar, would be ſigns of a con⯑ſiderable place, to thoſe who had not before been wearied of ſuch ſymptoms by the towers of Neuſs, and other German towns. From a wooded precipice over the river we had ſoon after a fine retroſpec⯑tive [158] glimpſe of the valley, its fantaſtic ſhores, and long mountainous diſtance, over which evening had drawn her ſweeteſt colouring. As we purſued the paſs, the heights on either hand gradually ſoftened; the country beyond ſhewed remote mountains leſs wild and aſpiring than thoſe we had left, and the blooming tint, which had inveſted the diſtance, deepened to a duſky purple, and then vaniſhed in the gloom of twilight. The progreſſive influence of the hour upon the landſcape was intereſting; and the ſhade of evening, under which we entered Andernach, harmonized with the deſolation and ſilence of its old walls and the broken ground around them. We paſſed a drawbridge and a ruinous gateway, and were ſufficiently fatigued to be ſomewhat anxious as to our accommodation. The Engliſh habit of conſidering, towards the end of the day's journey, that you are not far from the cheerful reception, the ready attendance, and the conveniences of a ſubſtantial inn, will ſoon be loſt in Germany. There, inſtead of being in good ſpirits, during the laſt ſtage, from ſuch a proſpect, you have to conſider, whether you ſhall find a room, not abſolutely diſguſting, or a houſe with any eatable proviſion, or a landlady, who will give it you, before the delay and the fatigue of an hundred requeſts have rendered you almoſt incapable of receiv⯑ing it. When your carriage ſtops at the inn, you will perhaps per⯑ceive, inſtead of the alacrity of an Engliſh waiter, or the civility of an Engliſh landlord, a huge figure, wrapt in a great coat, with a red worſted cap on his head, and a pipe in his mouth, ſtalking before the door. This is the landlord. He makes no alteration in his pace [159] on perceiving you, or, if he ſtops, it is to eye you with curioſity; he ſeldom ſpeaks, never bows, or aſſiſts you to alight; and perhaps ſtands ſurrounded by a troop of ſlovenly girls, his daughters, whom the ſound of wheels has brought to the door, and who, as they lean indolently againſt it, gaze at you with rude curioſity and ſur⯑priſe.

The drivers in Germany are all bribed by the innkeepers, and, either by affecting to miſunderſtand you, or otherwiſe, will conſtantly ſtop at the door, where they are beſt paid. That this money comes out of your pocket the next morning is not the grievance; the evil is, that the worſt inns give them the moſt, and a traveller, unleſs he exactly remembers his directions, is liable to be lodged in all the vileſt rooms of a country, where the beſt hotels have no lodging ſo clean and no larder ſo wholeſomely filled as thoſe of every half-way houſe between London and Canterbury. When you are within the inn, the landlord, who is eager to keep, though not to accommodate you, will affirm, that his is the inn you aſk for, or that the other ſign is not in the place; and, as you ſoon learn to believe any thing of the wretchedneſs of the country, you are unwilling to give up one lodging, leſt you ſhould not find another.

Our driver, after paſſing a deſolate, half filled place, into which the gate of Andernach opened, entered a narrow paſſage, which after⯑wards appeared to be one of the chief ſtreets of the place. Here he found a miſerable inn, and declared that there was no other; but, as we had ſeen one of a much better appearance, we were at length [160] brought to that, and, though with ſome delay, were not ill accommodated, for the night.

Andernach is an ancient town, and it is believed, that a tower, which ſtands alone, at one end of the walls, was built by Druſus, of whom there are many traces in walls and caſtles, intended to defend the colonies, on this ſide of the Rhine, againſt the Germans, on the other. The fortifications can now be of little other uſe than to authoriſe the toll, which travellers pay, for entering a walled town; a tax, on account of which many of the walls are ſupported, though it is pretended, that the tax is to ſupport the walls. By their means alſo, the Elector of Cologne collects here the laſt of four pay⯑ments, which he demands for the privilege of paſſing the Rhine from Urdingen to Andernach; and this is the moſt Southern frontier town of his dominions on the weſtern ſide of the Rhine, which ſoon after join thoſe of the Elector of Treves. Their length from hence to Rheinberg is not leſs than ninety miles; the breadth pro⯑bably never more than twenty.

There is ſome trade, at Andernach, in tiles, timber, and mill-ſtones, but the heaps of theſe commodities upon the beach are the only viſible ſymptoms of the traffick; for you will not ſee one perſon in the place moving as if he had buſineſs to attract him, or one ſhop of a better appearance, than an Engliſh huckſter's, or one man in the dreſs of a creditable trader, or one houſe, which can be ſuppoſed to belong to perſons in eaſy circumſtances. The port contains, perhaps, half a dozen veſſels, clinker built, in ſhape between a barge and a [161] ſloop; on the quay, you may ſee two or three fellows, harneſſing half a dozen horſes to a tow line, while twenty more watch their lingering manoeuvres, and this may probably be the morning's buſi⯑neſs of the town. Thoſe, who are concerned in it, ſay that they are engaged in commerce.

This, or ſomething like it, is the condition, as to trade, of all the towns we ſaw in Germany, one or two excepted. They are ſo far from having well filled, or ſpacious repoſitories, that you can ſcarcely tell at what houſes there are any, till you are led within the door; you may then wait long after you are heard, or ſeen, before the owner, if he has any other engagement, thinks it neceſſary to ap⯑proach you: if he has what you aſk for, which he probably has not, unleſs it is ſomething very ordinary, he tells the price and takes it, with as much ſullenneſs, as if you were forcing the goods from him: if he has not, and can ſhew you only ſomething very different, he then conſiders your enquiry as an intruſion, and appears to think himſelf injured by having had the trouble to anſwer you. What ſeems unaccountable in the manners of a German trader, is, that, though he is ſo careleſs in attending you, he looks as much diſtreſſed, as vexed, if you do not leave ſome money with him; but he probably knows, that you can be ſupplied no where elſe in the town, and, therefore, will not deny himſelf the indulgence of his temper. Even when you are ſatisfied, his manner is ſo ill, that he appears to conſi⯑der you his dependent, by wanting ſomething which he can refuſe. After perceiving, that this is nearly general, the pain of making con⯑tinual [162] diſcoveries of idleneſs and malignity becomes ſo much greater than the inconvenience of wanting any thing ſhort of neceſſaries, that you decline going into ſhops, and wait for ſome eaſier oppor⯑tunities of ſupplying whatever you may loſe upon the road.

COBLENTZ.

IT is one poſt from Andernach hither, over a road, as good as any in England. Beyond the dominions of the Elector of Cologne, the face of the country, on this ſide of the Rhine, entirely changes its character. The rocks ceaſe, at Andernach, and a rich plain commences, along which the road is led, at a greater diſtance from the Rhine, through corn lands and unincloſed orchards. About a mile from Andernach, on the other ſide of the river, the white town of Neuwiedt, the capital of a ſmall Proteſtant principality, is ſeen; and the general report, that it is one of the moſt commercial places, on the Rhine, appeared to be true from the chearful neatneſs of the principal ſtreet, which faces towards the water. There were alſo about twenty ſmall veſſels, lying before it, and the quay ſeemed to be wide enough to ſerve as a ſpacious terrace to the houſes. The Prince's palace, an extenſive ſtone building, with a lofty orangery along the ſhore, is at the end of this ſtreet, which, as well as the greateſt part of the town, was built, or improved under the auſpices of his father; a wiſe prince, diſtinguiſhed by having negotiated, in [163] 1735, a peace between the Empire and France, when the continu⯑ance of the war had ſeemed to be inevitable. The ſame benevo⯑lence led him to a voluntary ſurrender of many oppreſſive privileges over his ſubjects, as well as to the moſt careful protection of com⯑merce and manufactures. Accordingly, the town of Neuwiedt has been continually increaſing in proſperity and ſize, for the laſt fifty years, and the inhabitants of the whole principality are ſaid to be as much more qualified in their characters as they are happier in their conditions than thoſe of the neighbouring ſtates. But then there is the wretchedneſs of a deficiency of game in the country, for the late Prince was guilty of ſuch an innovation as to mitigate the ſeve⯑rity of the laws reſpecting it.

The foreſt hills, that riſe behind Neuwiedt and over the rocky margin of the river, extend themſelves towards the more rugged mountains of Wetteravia, which are ſeen, a ſhapeleſs multitude, in the eaſt.

The river is ſoon after loſt to the view between high, ſedgy banks; but, near Coblentz, the broad bay, which it makes in conjunction with the Moſelle, is ſeen expanding between the walls of the city and the huge pyramidal precipice, on which ſtands the fortreſs of Ehrenbreit⯑ſtein, or rather which is itſelf formed into that fortreſs. The Moſelle is here a noble river, by which the ſtreams of a thouſand hills, cover⯑ed with vines, pour themſelves into the Rhine. The antient ſtone bridge over it leads to the northern gate of Coblentz, and the en⯑trance into the city is ornamented by ſeveral large chateau-like man⯑ſions, [164] erected to command a view of the two rivers. A narrow ſtreet of high, but antient houſes then commences, and runs through the place. Thoſe, which branch from it extend, on each ſide, to⯑wards the walls, immediately within which there are others, that nearly follow their courſe and encompaſs the city. Being built be⯑tween two rivers, its form is triangular, and only one ſide is entirely open to the land; a ſituation ſo convenient both for the purpoſes of commerce and war, that it could not be overlooked by the Romans, and was not much neglected by the moderns, till the induſtry of maritime countries and the complicated conſtitution of the Empire reduced Germany in the ſcale of nations. This was accordingly the ſtation of the firſt legion, and the union of the two rivers gave it a name; Confluentia. At the commencement of the modern diviſion of nations, the ſucceſſors of Charlemagne frequently reſided here, for the convenience of an intercourſe between the other parts of the Empire and France; but, in the eleventh century, the whole territory of Treves regained the diſtinction, as a ſeparate country, which the Romans had given it, by calling the inhabitants Treveri.

Coblentz is a city of many ſpires, and has eſtabliſhments of chap⯑ters and monaſteries, which make the great pride of German capitals, and are ſometimes the chief objects, that could diſtinguiſh them from the neglected villages of other countries. The ſtreets are not all nar⯑row, but few of them are ſtraight; and the ſame pavement ſerves for the horſes of the Elector and the feet of his ſubjects. The port, or beach, has the appearance of ſomething more buſineſs than that of [165] Andernach, being the reſort of paſſage-veſſels between Mentz and Cologne; but the broad quay, which has been raiſed above it, is chiefly uſeful as a promenade to the viſitors of a cloſe and gloomy town. Beyond the terrace ſtands the Elector's palace, an elegant and ſpacious ſtone edifice, built to the height of three ſtories, and incloſing a court, which is large enough to be light as well as mag⯑nificent. The front towards the Rhine is ſimple, yet grand, the few ornaments being ſo well proportioned to its ſize, as neither to debaſe it by minuteneſs, nor encumber it by vaſtneſs. An entablature, diſ⯑playing ſome allegorical figures in bas relief, is ſupported by ſix Doric columns, which contribute much to the majeſtic ſimplicity of the edifice. The palace was built, about ten years ſince, by the reigning Elector, who mentions, in an inſcription, his attention to the architectural art; and a fountain, between the building and the town, is inſcribed with a few words, which ſeem to acknowledge his ſub⯑jects as beings of the ſame ſpecies with himſelf; CLEMENS WIN⯑CESLAUS VICINIS SUIS.

But the moſt ſtriking parts of the view from this quay are the rock and fortreſs of Ehrenbreitſtein, that preſent themſelves immediately before it, on the other ſide of the river; notwithſtanding the breadth of which they appear to riſe almoſt perpendicularly over Coblentz. At the baſe of the rock ſtands a large building, formerly the palace of the Electors, who choſe to reſide under the immediate protection of the fortreſs, rather than in the midſt of their capital. Adjoining it is the village of Ehrenbreitſtein, between which and Coblentz a [166] flying bridge is continually paſſing, and, with its train of ſubordinate boats, forms a very pictureſque object from the quay. The fortreſs itſelf conſiſts of ſeveral tier of low walls, built wherever there was a projection in the rock capable of ſupporting them, or wherever the rock could be hewn ſo as to afford room for cannon and ſoldiers. The ſtone, taken out of the maſs, ſerved for the formation of the walls, which, in ſome places, can ſcarcely be diſtinguiſhed from the living rock. Above theſe tier, which are divided into ſeveral ſmall parts, according to the conveniences afforded by the cliff, is built the caſtle, or citadel, covering its ſummit, and ſurrounded by walls more regularly continued, as well as higher. Small towers, ſomewhat in the antient form, defend the caſtle, which would be of little value, except for its height, and for the gradations of batteries between it and the river. Thus protected, it ſeems impregnable on that ſide, and is ſaid to be not much weaker on the other; ſo that the garriſon, if they ſhould be willing to fire upon Coblentz, might make it impoſſible for an enemy to remain within it, except under the cover of very high entrenchments. This is the real defence of the city, for its walls would preſently fall before heavy artillery; and this, it is believed, might be preſerved as long as the garriſon could be ſupplied with ſtores.

We croſſed the river from the quay to the fortreſs, by means of the very ſimple invention, a flying bridge. That, by which part of the paſſage of the Waal is made at Nimeguen, has been already men⯑tioned; this is upon the ſame principle, but on a much larger ſcale. [167] After the barges, upon which the platform is laid, are clear of the bank, the whole paſſage is effected with no other labour than that of the rudder. A ſtrong cable, which is faſtened to an anchor at each ſide of the river, is ſupported acroſs it by a ſeries of ſmall boats; the bridge has two low maſts, one on each barge, and theſe are connected at the top by a beam, over which the cable is paſſed, being confined ſo as that it cannot ſlip beyond them. When the bridge is launched, the rapidity of the current forces it down the Rhine as far as the cable will permit: having reached that point, the force, received from the current, gives it the only direction of which it is capable, that acroſs the river, with the cable which holds it. The ſteerſman manages two rudders, by which he aſſiſts in giving it this direction. The voyage requires nine or ten minutes, and the bridge is conti⯑nually paſſing. The toll, which, for a foot paſſenger, is ſomething leſs than a penny, is paid, for the benefit of the Elector, at an office, on the bank, and a ſentinel always accompanies the bridge, to ſupport his government, during the voyage.

The old palace of Ehrenbreitſtein, deſerted becauſe of its damp⯑neſs, and from the fear of its being overwhelmed by the rock, that ſometimes ſcatters its fragments upon it, is now uſed as a barrack and hoſpital for ſoldiers. It is a large building, even more pleaſantly ſitu⯑ated than the new one, being oppoſite to the entrance of the Moſelle into the Rhine; and its ſtructure, which has been once magnificent, denotes ſcarcely any other decay, than all buildings will ſhew, after a few years' neglect. The rock has allowed little room for a garden, [168] but there are ſome ridiculous ornaments upon a very narrow ſtrip of ground, which was probably intended for one.

The only entrance into the fortreſs, on this ſide, is by a road, cut in the ſolid rock, under four gateways. It is ſo ſteep, that we were compelled to decline the honour of admiſſion, but aſcended it far enough to judge of the view, commanded from the ſummit, and to be behind the batteries, of which ſome were mounted with large braſs cannon. Coblentz lies beneath it, as open to inſpection as a model upon a table. The ſweeps of the Rhine and the meanders of the Moſelle, the one binding the plain, the other interſecting it, lead the eye towards diſtant hills, that encircle the capacious level. The quay of the city, with the palace and the moving bridge, form an intereſt⯑ing picture immediately below, and we were unwilling to leave the rock for the dull and cloſe ſtreets of Coblentz. On our return, the extreme nakedneſs of the new palace, which is not ſheltered by trees, on any ſide, withdrew our attention from the motley group of paſſengers, mingled with hay carts and other carriages, on the flying bridge.

The long reſidence of the emigrant princes and nobleſſe of France in this city is to be accounted for not by its general accommodations, or gaieties, of which it is nearly as deficient as the others of Germany; but firſt by the great hoſpitality of the Elector towards them, and then by the convenience of its ſituation for receiving intelligence from France, and for communicating with other countries. The Elector held frequent levies for the French nobility, and continued for them [169] part of the ſplendour which they had enjoyed in their own country. The readineſs for lending money upon property, or employments in France, was alſo ſo great, that thoſe, who had not brought caſh with them, were immediately ſupplied, and thoſe, who had, were encou⯑raged to continue their uſual expences. We know it from ſome of the beſt poſſible authority, that, at the commencement of the march towards Longwy, money, at four per cent. was even preſſed upon many, and that large ſums were refuſed.

Here, and in the neighbourhood, between ſixty and ſeventy ſqua⯑drons of cavalry, conſiſting chiefly of thoſe who had formerly enjoyed military, or other rank, were formed; each perſon being mounted and equipped chiefly at his own expence. We heard ſeveral anec⯑dotes of the confidence, entertained in this army, of a ſpeedy arrival in Paris; but, as the perſons, to whom they relate, are now under the preſſure of misfortune, there would be as little pleaſure, as propriety in repeating them.

At Coblentz, we quitted, for a time, the left bank of the Rhine, in order to take the watering place of Selters, in our way to Mentz. Having croſſed the river and aſcended a ſteep road, near the fortreſs, we had fine glimpſes of its walls, baſtions and out-towers, and the heathy knolls, around them, with catches of diſtant country. The way continued to lie through the dominions of the Elector of Treves, which are here ſo diſtinguiſhed for their wretchedneſs as to be named the Siberia of Germany! It is paved and called a chauſſée; but thoſe, who have not experienced its ruggedneſs, can have no idea of it, [170] except by ſuppoſing the pavement of a ſtreet torn up by a plough, and then ſuffered to fix itſelf, as it had fallen. Always ſteep, either in aſcent, or deſcent, it is not only the roughneſs, that prevents your exceeding the uſual poſt-pace of three Engliſh miles an hour. Some⯑times it runs along edges of mountains, that might almoſt be called precipices, and commands ſhort views of other mountains and of vallies entirely covered with thick, but not lofty foreſts; ſometimes it buries itſelf in the depths of ſuch foreſts and glens; ſometimes the turrets of an old chateau peep above theſe, but rather confirm than contradict the notion of their deſolateneſs, having been evidently built for the purpoſes of the chace; and ſometimes a mud village ſurpriſes you with a few inhabitants, emblems of the miſery and ſavageneſs of the country.

Theſe are the mountains of Wetteravia, the boundaries of many a former and far-ſeen proſpect, then pictureſque, ſublime, or graceful, but now deſolate, ſhaggy, and almoſt hideous; as in life, that, which is ſo grand as to charm at a diſtance, is often found to be forlorn, diſ⯑guſtful and comfortleſs by thoſe, who approach it.

MONTABAUR.

SIX hours after leaving Coblentz, we reached Montabaur, the firſt poſt-town on the road, and diſtant about eighteen miles. An ancient chateau, not ſtrong enough to be a caſtle, nor light enough to be a good houſe, commands the town, and is probably the reſidence of the lord. The walls and gates ſhew the antiquity of Montabaur, but the ruggedneſs of its ſite ſhould ſeem to prove, that there was no other place in the neighbourhood, on which a town could be built. Though it is ſituated in a valley, as to the nearer mountains, it is conſtructed chiefly on two ſides of a narrow rock, the abrupt ſummit of which is in the centre of this very little place.

The appearance of Montabaur is adequate in gloomineſs to that of ſeveral before ſeen; but it would be endleſs to repeat, as often as they ſhould be true, the deſcriptions of the ſqualidneſs and decay, that cha⯑racteriſe German towns; nor ſhould we have noticed theſe ſo often, if the negligence of others, in this reſpect, had not left us to form deceitful expectations, ſuitable to the ſuppoſed importance of ſeveral very conſpicuous, but really very wretched cities.

LIMBOURG.

OVER a ſucceſſion of foreſt mountains, ſimilar to thoſe juſt paſſed, we came, in the afternoon, to Limbourg, another poſt town, or, perhaps, city, and another collection of houſes, like tombs, or forſaken hoſpitals. At an inn, called the Three Kings, we ſaw firſt the ſullenneſs and then the ferocious malignity of a German landlord and his wife, exemplified much more fully than had before occurred. When we afterwards expreſſed our ſurpriſe, that the magiſ⯑trates ſhould permit perſons of ſuch conduct to keep an inn, eſpecially where there was only one, we learned, that this fellow was himſelf the chief magiſtrate, or burgomaſter of the place; and his authority appeared in the fearfulneſs of his neighbours to afford any ſort of refreſhment to thoſe, who had left his inn. One of the Elector's mini⯑ſters, with whom we had the pleaſure to be acquainted, informed us, that he knew this man, and that he muſt have been intoxicated, for that, though civil when ſober, he was madly turbulent and abuſive, if otherwiſe. It appeared, therefore, that a perſon was permitted to be a magiſtrate, who, to the knowledge of government, was expoſed by his ſituation to be intoxicated, and was outrageous, whenever he was ſo. So little is the order of ſociety eſtimated here, when it is not con⯑nected with the order of politics.

Near Limbourg, the foreſt ſcenery, which had ſhut up the view, [173] during the day, diſappeared, and the country loſt, at leaſt, an unifor⯑mity of ſavageneſs. The hills continue, but they are partly culti⯑vated. At a ſmall diſtance from the town, a ſteep aſcent leads to a plain, on which a battle was fought, during the ſhort ſtay of the French in this diſtrict, in the campaign of 1792.

Four thouſand French were advancing towards Limbourg; a ſmall Pruſſian corps drew up to oppoſe them, and the engagement, though ſhort, was vivid, for the Pruſſians did not perceive the ſuperiority of the French in numbers, till the latter began to ſpread upon the plain, for the purpoſe of ſurrounding them. Being then compelled to retreat, they left ſeveral of the Elector's towns open to contribution, from which five-and-twenty thouſand florins were demanded, but the remonſtrances of the magiſtrates reduced this ſum to 8000 florins, or about 700 l. The French then entered Limbourg, and extended themſelves over the neighbouring country. At Weilbourg, the reſi⯑dence of a Prince of the Houſe of Naſſau, they required 300,000 flo⯑rins, or 25,000 l. which the Prince neither had, nor could collect, in two days, through his whole country. All his plate, horſes, coaches, arms and ſix pieces of cannon, were brought together, for the pur⯑poſe of removal; but afterwards two individuals were accepted as hoſtages, inſtead of the Prince himſelf, who had been at firſt demanded. The action near Limbourg took place on the 9th of November, and, before the concluſion of the month, the French had fallen back to Franckfort, upon the re-approach of the Pruſſian and Auſtrian troops.

SELTERS.

WE had a curioſity to ſee this place, which, under the name of Seltzer, is ſo celebrated throughout Europe, for its medi⯑cinal water. Though it is rather in the high road to Franckfort than to Mentz, there ſeemed no probability of inconvenience in making this ſhort departure from our route, when it was to be joined again from a place of ſuch public acceſs as Selters appeared likely to be found.

About ſeven miles from Limbourg, a deſcent commences, at the bottom of which ſtands this village. What a reproof to the expec⯑tations of comfort, or convenience in Germany! Selters, a ſpot, to which a valetudinarian might be directed, with the proſpect of his finding not only abundant accommodation, but many luxuries, Selters is literally and poſitively nothing more than an aſſemblage of miſer⯑able cottages, with one inn and two houſes for officers of the Elector, ſtuck in a dirty paſs, which more reſembles a ditch than a road. The village may be ſaid to be near half a mile long, becauſe the huts, being moſtly ſeparated from each other, continue as far; and this length would increaſe its inconvenience to invalids, if ſuch ſhould ever ſtay there longer than to ſee it, for there is nothing like a ſwept path-way, and the road, in which they muſt walk, is pro⯑bably always deeply covered with mud, being ſo when we were there in the beginning of July. There was then, however, not one [175] ſtranger, beſides ourſelves, in the place, and we found, that very rarely any aggravate the miſeries of ſickneſs by a ſtay at Selters.

The only lodgings to be had are at the inn, and fortunately for travellers this is not ſuch as might be expected from the appearance of the village. Finding there the novelty of an obliging hoſt and hoſteſs, we were very well contented to have reached it, at night, though we were to ſtay there alſo the next day, being Sunday. The rooms are as good as thoſe in the inns of German cities, and three, which are called Court Chambers, having been uſed by the Elector and lately by the King of Pruſſia, are better. Theſe are as open as the others to ſtrangers.

The ſpring is at the foot of one of ſeveral hills, which imme⯑diately ſurround the village, and is ſeparated from the road by a ſmall court yard. An oaken covering, at the height of ten or twelve feet, prevents rain from falling into the wooden baſon, in which the ſtream riſes; and two or three of the Elector's guards watch over it, that no conſiderable quantity may be taken, without pay⯑ment of the duty, which forms a large part of his income. Many thouſands of ſtone bottles are piled round this court, and, for the reputation of the ſpring, care is taken to fill them as immediately as poſſible, before their removal for exportation.

The policy of keeping this income intire is ſaid to be a motive for neglecting the condition of the village. A duty could not well be demanded of thoſe, who ſhould drink at the ſpring, but is eaſily col⯑lected before the water is bottled for removal; it is, therefore, not [176] wiſhed, that there ſhould be many viſitors, at Selters. We did not hear this reaſon upon the ſpot, but it is difficult otherwiſe to account for a negligence, which prevents the inhabitants of the neighbouring country from being enriched at the expence of wanderers from others.

Nor is it only a duty, but the whole profit of the traffick, till the water leaves the place, which rewards the care of the Elector. His office for the ſale of it is eſtabliſhed here, and his agents alone tranſ⯑mit it into foreign countries. The buſineſs is ſufficient to employ ſeveral clerks, and the number of bottles annually filled is ſo im⯑menſe, that, having omitted to write it down, we will not venture to mention it from memory. The water is brought to table conſtantly and at an eaſy price in all the towns near the Rhine. Mixed with Rheniſh wine and ſugar it forms a delightful, but not always a ſafe beverage, in hot weather. The acid of the wine, expelling the fixed air of other ingredients, occaſions an efferveſcence, like that of Champagne, but the liquor has not a fourth part of the obnoxious ſtrength of the latter. The danger of drinking it is, that the acid may be too powerful for ſome conſtitutions.

After being ſurpriſed by the deſolateneſs of the village, we were not leſs ſo to find amongſt its few inhabitants one, whoſe manners and information, ſo far from bearing the character of the drearineſs around him, were worthy of the beſt ſociety in the moſt intelligent cities. This was the Commiſſary and Privy Counſellor of the Elec⯑tor for the diſtrict, who, having heard, that there were ſome Engliſh [177] viſitors at the well, very frankly introduced himſelf to us by his civilities, and favoured us with his company in the afternoon. He had been in England, with many valuable introductions, and had formed from the talents and accompliſhments of a diſtinguiſhed Marquis an high opinion of the national character; a circumſtance, which probably united with his natural diſpoſition, in inducing him to emulate towards us the general politeneſs of that truly honourable perſon.

When we enquired how the journey of the next day was to be performed, it appeared, that no other carriage could be hired in the place than a ſort of one-horſe chair, which would take us to the next poſt town, from whence we might proceed with the uſual chaiſes. The driver walked at the ſide of this uncouth carriage, which had ſhafts and wheels ſtrong enough for a waggon; and, either by the miſtake or intention of his maſter in directing him, we were led, not to the poſt town, for a chaiſe, if it could be had, but entirely through a foreſt country to Mentz, by roads made only for the woodcutters, and, as it afterwards proved, known to few others, except to our inge⯑nious voiturier. We did not paſs a town, or village, at which it was poſſible to change the carriage, and had, therefore, no other alterna⯑tive, when the miſtake was diſcovered, than to return to Selters, or to proceed to Mentz, in this inconvenient and ludicrous vehicle. We choſe to proceed, and had ſome reward for fatigue, by paſſing nearly an whole day under the ſhade of deep and delightful foreſts, little tamed by the hand of man, and appearing to acknowledge only ‘"the ſeaſon's difference."’

[178] Between Selters and theſe foreſts, the country is well cultivated, and frequently laid out in garden fields, in which there was the firſt appearance ofcheerful labour we had ſeen in Germany. After paſſing a ſmall town, on the ſummit of a hill to the left, ſtill ſur⯑rounded by its antient fortifications, we entered a large plain, ſkirted, on one ſide, by villages; another town, at the end of which, was almoſt the laſt ſign of an inhabited country, that appeared for ſeveral hours. The foreſt then commenced, and, with the exception of one hamlet, enveloped near the middle, we ſaw nothing but lofty oaks, elms and cheſnuts, till we emerged from it in the afternoon, and came to a town of the Landgrave of Heſſe Darmſtadt. Roebucks are ſaid to be numerous, and wild boars not very ſcarce, in this foreſt; but we ſaw none either here, or in thoſe near Limbourg, which are much inferior to this in beauty. Upon the whole, it was a ſcene of per⯑fect novelty; without which it now ſeems that we ſhould have wanted many ideas of ſylvan life and much of the delight, excited by Shakeſpeare's exquiſite deſcription of it.

The country afterwards opens towards

MENTZ,

WHICH ſtands in a ſpacious plain, on the oppoſite edge of the Rhine, and is viſible, at a conſiderable diſtance, with its maſſy towers and numerous ſpires. Within two or three miles of the city, the ſymptoms of ruin, occaſioned by the ſiege in 1793, began to appear. A village, on the left, had ſcarcely one houſe entire; and the tower of the church was a mere wreck, blackened by flames, and with large chaſms, that admitted the light. The road did not paſs nearer to it than two miles, but the broken walls and roofs were diſtinguiſhable even at that diſtance, and ſometimes a part, which had been repaired, contraſted its colour with the black and ſmoky hues of the remainder. This was the village of Koſtheim, ſo often contended for in the courſe of the ſiege, being on the oppoſite bank of the Rhine to the city, and capable of obſtructing the intercourſe with it by water.

The country on the eaſtern ſide of the river was otherwiſe but little damaged, if we except the deſtruction of numerous orchards; for the allies were not ſtrong enough to beſiege the city on all ſides at once, and contented themſelves with occupying ſome poſts in this quarter, capable of holding the garriſon of Caſſel in awe.

This Caſſel is a ſmall village exactly oppoſite to Mentz, and com⯑municating with it by a bridge of boats. It was unfortified before [180] the invaſion of the French; but theſe had no ſooner entered the city, than they perceived the importance of ſuch a place, and prepared themſelves to render it a regular fortreſs. In about two months they completely ſurrounded it with earthen works and outworks, ditched and palliſadoed. Some of the neareſt orchards were cut down to be uſed in theſe fortifications. The fruit trees ſtill remain with their branches upwards from the ditch, and ſerve inſtead of chevaux de friſe.

The village of Hockheim, which is alſo on this ſide of the Rhine, is further to the left than Koſtheim, and remains uninjured, at the top of the round and eaſy hill, the vines of which are ſo much cele⯑brated for their flavour, as to give a name to great quantities of wine, produced in other diſtricts. After the ſiege, the merchants of the neighbourhood enhanced the price of their ſtocks by reporting, that all the vineyards had been deſtroyed; but the truth is, that Hock⯑heim was not much contended for, and that little damage was done even to the crops then in bloom. The village is advantageouſly ſituated about the confluence of the Rhine and the Maine, and, if it had been nearer the city, would probably have been ſo important, as to have been conteſted, till it was deſtroyed.

This is the home ground of the ſcene, which ſpreads before the traveller, who approaches Mentz from the eaſtern ſhore of the Rhine. Furtheſt to the left is Hockheim, then the devaſtated village of Koſtheim, then the fortifications of Caſſel, which, with the river, are between him and the city. Beyond, the horizon is bounded on [181] all ſides by gradual hills, diſtant and apparently fruitful; but thoſe to the north are pre-eminent, with gentle ſlopes at their feet, co⯑loured ſweetly by corn, dark wood and gleams of reddiſh earth.

The works of Caſſel render the approach to the city very tedious, for they have been ſo contrived as that the road nearly follows them, in all their angles, for the purpoſe of being commanded by many points at once. The village was now garriſoned by Pruſſians, of whom, ſome were lying under the ſheds of their guard-houſe near the bridge, and others were riding over it, with juſt ſpeed enough to give one an idea of military earneſtneſs. Their horſes ſhook the floor of the bridge of boats, which here croſſes the Rhine, at its breadth of nearly eight hundred feet, and diſturbed the promenade, for which it is uſually frequented in an evening. We followed them, admiring the expanſe, and rapidity of the river more than the appearance of the city, where gloomineſs is too much mingled with grandeur; till, at the end of the bridge, we were ſtopped at another guard-houſe, to anſwer the uſual enquiries. A ſoldier ac⯑companied us thence to a large ſquare filled with cannon and mor⯑tars, where the captain of the guard examined our paſſport. We were then very glad to paſs the evening at an inn without further reſearches; but there were ſome ſymptoms of the late condition of the city to attract attention in the way.

The Elector's palace, which forms one ſide of this ſquare, having been converted into an hoſpital by the French, is ſtill uſed as ſuch, or as a barrack, by the Pruſſians; and the windows were crowded with [182] the figures of half-dreſſed ſoldiers. Many of the cannon in the ſquare remained with the fractures, made by the balls of the be⯑ſiegers. This place communicates with a broad ſtreet, in which were many buildings, filled with ſoldiers, and an handſome houſe, that, having belonged to one of the Clubbiſts, was deſtroyed immediately after the expulſion of the French. The walls ſtill remain bare and open. Some greater ruins, occaſioned by fire, during the ſiege, were viſible at a diſtance, and, upon the whole, we had intereſt enough excited, as to the immediate hiſtory of the place, to take little notice of the narrow and difficult paſſages, through which we wound for half an hour, after leaving the principal ſtreet.

The next morning, the friends, to whom we had letters, began to conduct us through the melancholy curioſities, left in the city by the ſiege. Theſe are chiefly in the ſouthern quarter, againſt which the direct attack of the allies was made, and their approaches moſt advanced. Some entire ſtreets have been deſtroyed here, and were ſtill in ruins. A magnificent church, attached to a convent of Fran⯑ciſcan monks, is among the moſt lamentable ſpectacles; what was the roof now lies in heaps over the pavement; not a veſtige of furniture, or decoration, has eſcaped the flames, and there are chaſms in the walls larger than the noble windows, that once illuminated them. This church and convent were ſet on fire by a bomb; and of the ſick ſoldiers, who were lodged in the latter, it is feared that but few were removed before the deſtruction of the building. We next ſaw the remains of a palace, built by the preſent Provoſt of the Chapter of [183] Nobles; an inſtitution, which is ſo rich, that their Superior had a more elegant reſidence than the Elector. It was of ſtone, and the principal front was in the Corinthian order, ſix columns of which ſupported a ſpacious open gallery, ornamented with ſtatues, for its whole length. The wings formed two ſides of a ſquare, which ſepa⯑rated the palace from the ſtreet. A profuſion of the richeſt furniture and a valuable collection of paintings filled the interior. Of the whole edifice little now remains but the ſhattered walls of the centre, which have been ſo ſcorched as to loſe all appearance of having belonged to a ſplendid ſtructure. It was burnt the night before the fire of the Franciſcan church, and two nights after the French had removed their head quarters and their municipality from it. On the day before the removal, a bomb had fallen upon the French General Blou, deſtroying him on the ſpot, and mortally wounding an officer, with whom he was converſing. The ruins are now ſo accumulated over the court-yard, that we could not diſcern it to have ever had that appendage of a diſtinguiſhed reſidence.

But the church of Notre Dame was the moſt conſpicuous of many ruined objects. The ſteeple of this had been one of the grandeſt ornaments of the city; a ſhower of bombs ſet fire to it; and, while it was thus rendered an eaſy mark for the beſiegers, their cannon played upon and beat a great part of it to the ground. By its fall the roof of the church was ſhattered, but the body did not otherwiſe ſuf⯑fer any material injury. Wooden galleries have been raiſed round the remainder of the ſteeple, not for the purpoſe of repairing, but for [184] that of entirely removing it; and, to ſave the trouble of letting down the ſtones on the outſide, a wooden pipe, or channel has been made, through which they are lowered into the church. The appearance of this ſteeple, which was once very large and lofty, is rendered ſtriking by theſe preparations for its total deſtruction.

The whole church is built of a ſtone, dug from the neighbouring hills, the colour of which is ſo delicate a pink, that it might be ſup⯑poſed to be given by art. The Elector's palace and ſeveral other public buildings in the city are formed of this ſtone.

Paſſing through the gates on this ſide of Mentz, we came to a ſlope near the river, and beyond the glacis of the place, which was then partly covered with huge maſſes of ſtone ſcattered among the roots of broken trees and ſhrubs, that had begun again to ſhoot their ver⯑dure over the amputated trunks. This was the ſite of a palace of the Elector, called, both from the beauty of its ſituation, and the ſplen⯑dour of its ſtructure, La Favorita. The apartments of the palace and the terraces of the garden commanded extenſive views of the Rhine and the ſurrounding country aſcending from its banks; and the gar⯑dens themſelves were ſo beautifully diſpoſed as to be thought worthy of the name of Engliſh. They were ornamented with pavilions, which had each its diſtinct proſpect, and with one muſic room in the thickeſt part of the ſhrubbery. Of the building nothing is now viſible but ſome disjointed ſtones; and of the garden, only the broken trunks of trees. The palace was burned and the gardens levelled by the French, that they might not afford ſhelter to the Pruſſians, during the ſiege.

[185] From this ſpot we were ſhewn the poſitions of the allied forces, the courſe of their approaches and the chief outworks of the city. Hock⯑heim, Koſtheim and Caſſel lay before us, on the other ſide of the river; a gentle riſe, on this ſide, at the diſtance of nearly a mile, was the firſt ſtation of the allies, part of whoſe force was covered behind it; their laſt batteries were within two hundred and fifty paces of the city. The ground had been ſince levelled, and was now covered with ſtanding corn, but the track of the trenches was, in ſome places, viſible. On the other hand, the forts, in which the ſtrength of the whole ſo much conſiſts, were completely repaired, and had no appearance of having been ſo lately attacked. They are five in num⯑ber, and, being raiſed at a conſiderable diſtance from the walls of the city, no near approaches can be made, till ſome of them are either taken, or deſtroyed; for they are ſaid to be regular and ſtrong forti⯑fications, capable of containing numerous garriſons, and communi⯑cating with the city itſelf by paſſages, cut in the ground, through which they may be conſtantly reinforced.

Only one of theſe five forts, that neareſt to the river, was deſtroyed in the late ſiege, which would have been much more tedious, but for the want of proviſions and medicines, that began to be felt in the garriſon. The walls of the city were almoſt uninjured, ſo that it has not been thought neceſſary to repair them in the few places, where balls may be perceived to have ſtruck. The bombardment was the chief annoyance of the garriſon, who were not ſheltered in caſerns, and whoſe magazines, both of ammunition and proviſion, were fre⯑quently [186] deſtroyed by it. Their numbers were alſo greatly reduced by ſallies and by engagements, on the other ſide of the Rhine, in defence of Caſſel, or in attack of part of an iſland, called the Bleiau.

We walked round the city upon what is termed the glacis, that is upon the ſlope, which aſcends from the plain towards the top of the ditch, and which is the furtheſt of the defenſive works, being very gradually raiſed, that thoſe, who are upon it, may be expoſed, at every ſtep, to the fire from the walls. The forts, which are formed of ſolid earthen works, covered with turf, would ſcarcely attract the notice of an unmilitary eye, if the channelled paſſages to them did not iſſue from this ſlope, and if the ſentinels, ſtalking upon the parapets, did not ſeem of a gigantic ſize, by having their whole figures raiſed againſt the light.

Mentz was at this time the depôt of ſtores for the Pruſſian army on the Rhine, and there were perſons employed upon the glacis, in counting heaps of cannon balls, which had been delivered from ſome neighbouring foundery. On the bank of the river, others were throwing waggon-loads of hay into large barges, on which it was piled to ſuch an height, that ſmall paſſages were cut through it for the rowers to work in. There were nine or ten barges ſo filled; and in theſe labours more activity was apparent than in any other tranſactions we ſaw at Mentz.

Having paſſed round the city, between the walls and the forts, which protect them, to the north, weſt and ſouth, we came, at this latter ſide, to ſome other ſignals of a theatre of war. Here had been [187] a noble alley of at leaſt a mile and a half long, formed of poplars as large and high as elms, and ſurrounded, on each ſide, by plantations, interſected by ſmall and irregular walks. Being led along the banks of the Rhine, this alley, with its adjoining groves, afforded a moſt delightful promenade, and was claſſed amongſt the beſt ornaments, given to the river, in its whole courſe. This alſo was deſtroyed upon the approach of the beſiegers, that it might not afford them ſhelter. The trunks of the ſturdy trees, cut at the height of one or two feet from the ground, ſhew, by their ſolidity and the abundance of their vigorous ſhoots, how long they might have flouriſhed, but for this diſaſter.

An Engliſhman, walking amidſt the enſigns of ſuch artificial and premature deſolation, cannot help conſidering the natural ſecurity of his country, and rejoicing, that, even if the ſtrong and plain policy of neglecting all foreign conſequence, and avoiding all foreign intereſts, except the commercial ones, which may be maintained by a navy, ſhould for ever be rejected, ſtill his home cannot be invaded; and, though the expence of wars ſhould make poverty general, the imme⯑diate horrors of them cannot enter the cities, or the cottages of an iſland.

Great part of our time at Mentz was occupied by enquiries con⯑cerning the ſiege, which was not ſo much a topic as we had expected to find it. We probably heard, however, all that was to be told, and had a German pamphlet recommended, containing the hiſtory of the place from the firſt invaſion of the French to their departure. [188] The authenticity of this was aſſured to us; and it is partly from it, partly from the accounts given by our friends, that the following ſhort narrative has been extracted.

MENTZ.

SOMETHING has been already ſaid of the preſent condi⯑tion of this city: upon a review it appears, that from the mention of churches, palaces, burgeſſes, quays and ſtreets, we might be ſuppoſed to repreſent it as a conſiderable place, either for ſplendour, or com⯑merce, or for having its middle claſſes numerouſly filled. Any ſuch opinion of Mentz will be very incorrect. After two broad and ſome⯑what handſome ſtreets, all the other paſſages in the city are narrow lanes, and into theſe many of the beſt houſes open, having, for the moſt part, their lower windows barricadoed, like thoſe of Cologne. The diſadvantage, with which any buildings muſt appear in ſuch ſituations, is increaſed by the neglected condition of theſe; for a German has no notion, that the outſide of his houſe ſhould be clean, even if the inſide is ſo. An Engliſhman, who ſpends a few hun⯑dred pounds in a year, has his houſe in better condition, as to neat⯑neſs, than any German nobleman's we ſaw; a Dutchman, with fifty pounds a year, exceeds both.

The Elector's palace is a large turretted building of reddiſh ſtone, with one front towards the Rhine, which it commands in a delightful point of view; but we did not hear, that it was ſo much altered, by being now uſed as a barrack, as that its appearance can formerly have been much leſs ſuitable than at preſent to ſuch a purpoſe.

[218] On the quay there is ſome appearance of traffic, but not much in the city; ſo that the transfer of commodities from veſſels of other diſtricts to thoſe of the Electorate may be ſuppoſed to contribute great part of the ſhow near the river. The commerce is not ſufficient to encourage the building of warehouſes over the quay. The veſſels are ill rigged, and the hulls are entirely covered with pitch, without paint. About thirty of theſe, apparently from forty to ſeventy tons burthen, were lying near the quay; and the war could ſcarcely have diminiſhed their uſual number, ſo many being employed in carrying ſtores for the armies.

The burgeſſes are numerous, and have ſome privileges, which ren⯑der their political condition enviable to the other inhabitants of the Electorate. But, though theſe have invited manufacturers, and ſome⯑what encouraged commerce, there is not wealth enough in the neigh⯑bouring country, to make ſuch a conſumption, as ſhall render many traders proſperous. In point of wealth, activity and addreſs, the bur⯑geſſes of Mentz are much below the opinion, which muſt be formed, while German cities are deſcribed and eſtimated by their importance in their own country, rather than by a compariſon of their condition with that of others. A trader, it will be allowed, is at leaſt as likely to appear to advantage in his buſineſs as in any other ſtate. His intelligence may ſurely be, in ſome degree, judged of by thoſe, who deal with him; and that we might know ſomething of thoſe of Mentz, we paſſed ſome of the little time we were left to ourſelves in endeavouring to buy trifles at their ſhops.

[219] The idleneſs and inadvertence we generally ſaw are difficult to be conceived; perhaps, the trouble, experienced in purchaſing a book, may give an idea of them. We wanted the German pamphlet, from which moſt of the above-mentioned particulars of the ſiege are ex⯑tracted; and, as it related to a topic ſo general within the place, we ſmiled, when our friends ſaid they would aſſiſt us to procure it, during a walk. Two bookſellers, to whom we applied, knew nothing of it; and one ſuppoſed, that an engraved view of the works would do quite as well. Paſſing another ſhop, a young German gentleman enquired for it of the maſter, who was at the door, and heard, that we might have it, upon our return, in half an hour. The door, when we came back, was ſhut, and no knocking could procure it to be opened; ſo that we were obliged to ſend into the dwelling-houſe. When the ſhopman came, he knew nothing of the book; but, being aſſured that his maſter had promiſed it, went away, and returned with a copy in ſheets. We paid for this, and left it to be ſewed, which was agreed to be done, in three hours. At that time, it was not finiſhed, but might be had in another hour; and, after that hour, it was again promiſed, within two. Finally, it could not be had, that night, but would be ready in the morning, and, in the morning, it was ſtill unfiniſhed; we then went to Franckfort without it, and it was ſent after us by a friend. This was the moſt aggravated inſtance we ſaw of a German trader's manners; but ſomething like it may be almoſt every where met with.

From ſuch ſymptoms and from the infrequency of wealth among [220] the middle claſſes it is apparent, that Mentz could not have been im⯑portant, as to commerce, even if there had been no ſiege, which is here mentioned as the cauſe of all deficiencies, and certainly is ſo of many. The deſtruction of property, occaſioned by it, will not be ſoon remedied. The nobility have almoſt forſaken a place, where their palaces have been either deſtroyed, or ranſacked; the Prince has no reſidence there; ſome of the Germans, who emigrated on account of the laſt ſiege, fled into France; the war-taxes, as well as the partial maintenance of the garriſon, diminiſh what property re⯑mains; and all expenditure is upon a reduced footing.

The contribution of the inhabitants towards a ſupport of the garri⯑ſon is made by the very irkſome means of affording them lodging. At the beſt houſes, the doors are chalked over with the names of officers, lodged in them; which the ſervants dare not efface, for the ſoldiers muſt know where to find their officers. In a family, whom we viſited, four officers and their ſervants were quartered; but it muſt be acknowledged, that the former, ſo far from adding to this incon⯑venience by any negligent conduct, were conſtantly and carefully polite. We, indeed, never ſaw Pruſſian officers otherwiſe; and can teſtify, that they are as much ſuperior to thoſe Auſtrians in manners and intelligence, as they are uſually ſaid to be in military qualities.

Another obſtruction, which the ſiege has given to the proſperity of Mentz, conſiſts in the abſence of many members of the Noble Chapter; an inſtitution, which, however uſeleſs, or injurious to the country occaſions the expenditure of conſiderable ſums in the capi⯑tal. [221] That of Mentz is ſaid to be one of the richeſt of many ſimilar Chapters in Germany. From ſuch foundations the younger ſons of noble families derive ſometimes very ample incomes, and are but little reſtricted by their regulations from any enjoyment of temporal ſplen⯑dour. Their carriages and liveries vie with thoſe of the other attend⯑ants at Court; they are not prohibited from wearing the ornaments of orders of knighthood; are very little enjoined to reſidence; are received in the environs of the Court with military honours, and allowed to reſide in their ſeparate houſes. They may wear embroi⯑dery of gold, and cloths of any colours, except ſcarlet, or green, which, as well as ſilver lace, are thought too gay. Being thus per⯑mitted and enabled to become examples of luxury, their reſidence in any city diffuſes ſome appearance of proſperity over it.

One of the largeſt buildings in Mentz is the arſenal, which fronts towards the river, and attracts the attention of thoſe, who walk upon the quay, by having armed heads placed at the windows of the firſt floor, which ſeem to frown, with Roman ſternneſs, upon the paſſen⯑ger. In one of the principal rooms within, a party of figures in ſimilar armour are placed at a council-board. We did not hear who contrived them; but the heads in the windows may be miſtaken for real ones, at the diſtance of fifty yards.

The Elector of Mentz, who is choſen by a Chapter of twenty-four Canons, and is uſually one of their number, is the firſt eccleſiaſtical Prince in the empire, of which he is alſo the Arch-chancellor and Di⯑rector of the Electoral College. In the Diet, he ſits on the right hand [222] of the Emperor, affixes the ſeal of the Empire to its decrees, and has afterwards the cuſtody of them among the archives. His revenues, in a time of peace, are nearly 200,000 l. annually; but, during a war, they are much leſs, a third part of them ariſing from tolls, impoſed upon the navigation of the Rhine. The vineyards ſupply another large part; and his ſubjects, not intereſted in them, are but little taxed, except when military preparations are to be made; the taxes are then as direct as poſſible, that money may be immediately col⯑lected.

The fortifications of his chief city are as much a misfortune to his country as they are an advantage to the reſt of the Empire. Being always one of the firſt objects, on this ſide of the Rhine, ſince an enemy cannot croſs the river, while ſo conſiderable a fortreſs and ſo large a garriſon as it may contain, might, perhaps, check their return, the Electorate has been often the ſcene of a tedious warfare. From the firſt raiſing of the works by Louis the Fourteenth, their ſtrength has never been fully tried. The ſurrender in 1792 was partly for the want of a proper garriſon, and partly by contrivance; even in 1793, when the defence was ſo furious and long, the garriſon, it is thought, might have held out further, if their ſtores had been ſecured in bomb⯑proof buildings. A German garriſon, ſupported by an army, which ſhould occupy the oppoſite bank of the Rhine, might be continually reinforced and ſupplied, ſo as to be conquered by nothing but the abſolute demolition of the walls.

The bridge of boats over the Rhine, which, both in peace and war, [223] is ſo important to the city, is now in a much better ſtate than the French found it, being guarded, at the eaſtern end, by the fortifica⯑tions of Caſſel. Notwithſtanding its great length and the rapidity of the river, it is ſo well conſtructed, as to be much leſs liable to injury, than might be ſuppoſed, and would probably ſuſtain batteries, which might defeat every attempt at deſtroying it by fireſhips. It is 766 feet long, and wide enough for the paſſage of two carriages at once. Various repairs, and the care of a daily ſurvey, have continued it, ſince 1661, when it was thrown over the river.

The practice of modifying the names of towns ſo as to incorporate them ſeparately with every language, is no where more remarkable than with reſpect to thoſe of Germany, where a ſtranger, unleſs he is aware of them, might find the variations very inconvenient. The German name for what we call Mentz, is Maynz; the French, which is moſt uſed, Mayence; and the Italian Magontio, by deſcent from the Roman Magontiacum. The German ſynonym for Liege is Luttich; for Aix la Chapelle, Achen; for Bois le Duc, Herzogen⯑buſch; and for Cologne, Cöln, which is pronounced Keln. The name, borne by every town in the nation to which it belongs, ſhould ſurely be its name, wherever it is mentioned; for the ſame reaſon, that words, derived into one language from another, are pronounced ac⯑cording to the authority of their roots, becauſe the uſe of the primary term is already eſtabliſhed, and there can never be a deciſion between ſubſequent varieties, which are cotemporary among themſelves, and are each produced by the ſame arrogance of invention.

FRANCKFORT.

WE came hither by means of a paſſage boat, which we were told would ſhew ſomething of the German populace, but which diſplayed nothing ſo much as the unſkilfulneſs of the German ſailors. Though they make this voyage, every day, they went aground in the even ſtream of the Maine, and during the calmeſt weather; fixing the veſſel ſo faſt by their ill-directed ſtruggle to get off, that they were compelled to bring the towing horſes to the ſide and tug backward with the ſtream. There were an hundred people in the boat; but the expedient of deſiring them to remove from the part, which was aground, was never uſed. We heard, that they ſeldom make the voyage, without a ſimilar ſtoppage, not againſt any ſhifting ſand, but upon the permanent ſhelves of the river.

The diſtance is about four-and-twenty miles, but we were nine hours in reaching Franckfort, the environs of which afford ſome ſymptoms of a commercial and opulent city, the banks of the Maine being covered for nearly the laſt mile with country ſeats, ſeparated from each other by ſmall pleaſure grounds.

There are gates and walls to Franckfort, but the magiſtrates do not oppreſs travellers by a military examination at their entrance. Having ſeen the worthleſſneſs of many places, which bear oſtentatious cha⯑racters either for ſplendour or trade, we were ſurpriſed to find in this [225] as much of both as had been reported. The quays were well covered with goods and labourers; the ſtreets neareſt to the water are lined with ſhops, and thoſe in the middle of the city with the houſes of merchants, of which nearly all are ſpacious, and many magnificent. Some, indeed, might be called palaces, if they had nobility for their tenants; but, though the independence, which commerce ſpreads among the middle claſſes, does not entirely deter the German nobility from a reſidence here, the fineſt houſes are the property of merchants.

In our way to the Cigne Blanc, which is one of the beſt inns, we paſſed many of ſo good an appearance, that it was difficult to believe there could be better in a German city. But Franckfort, which is the pride of Germany, in this reſpect, has probably a greater number of large inns than any other place of equal extent in Europe. The fairs fill theſe, twice in a year, for three weeks, at each time; and the order, which is indiſpenſible then, continues at other periods, to the ſurpriſe and comfort of ſtrangers.

This city has been juſtly deſcribed by many travellers; and Doctor MOORE has treated of its inhabitants with the eaſe and elegant ani⯑mation of his peculiar manner. We ſhall not aſſume the diſadvan⯑tage of entering upon the ſame ſubject after him. The inhabitants of Franckfort are very diſtinct, as to manners and information, from the other Germans; but they are ſo far like to thoſe of our own com⯑mercial cities, that one able account leaves ſcarcely any thing new to be ſeen, or told, concerning them.

All their bleſſings of liberty, intelligence, and wealth are obſerved [226] with the more attention, becauſe they cannot be approached, except through countries afflicted by arbitrary power, ignorance and poverty. The exiſtence of ſuch a city, in ſuch a ſituation, is little leſs than a phenomenon; the cauſes of which are ſo various and minute as to make the effect, at firſt ſight, appear almoſt accidental. The jea⯑louſy of the neighbouring Princes towards each other, is the known, and, certainly, the chief cauſe of its exterior protection againſt each; the continuance of its interior liberties is probably owing to the cir⯑cumſtance, which, but for that jealouſy, would expoſe it to ſubjection from without,—the ſmallneſs of its territory. Where the departments of government muſt be very few, very difficult to be rendered ex⯑penſive to the public, and very near to their inſpection, the ambition of individuals can be but little tempted to contrive encroachments upon the community. So complexly are the chief cauſes of its exterior and interior independence connected with each other.

As to the firſt of theſe, it may, perhaps, be replied, that a ſimilar jealouſy has not always been ſufficient to protect ſimilar cities; and Dantzick is the recent inſtance of its inſufficiency. But the jealouſy, [...]s to Dantzick, though ſimilar, was not equal to this, and the tempta⯑tion to oppoſe it was conſiderably greater. What would the moſt capable of the neighbouring Princes gain by the ſeizure of Franck⯑fort? A place of ſtrength? No. A place capable of paying taxes? Yes; but taxes, which would be re-impoſed upon commodities, conſumed partly by his own ſubjects, whoſe property is his own already, and partly by thoſe of his neighbours, to whoſe jealouſy they would afford [227] an additional and an unappeaſable provocation. Dantzick, on the contrary, being a ſeaport, was, if not ſtrong, capable of ſupplying ſtrength, and might pay taxes, which ſhould not fall entirely upon its neighbours, but upon the diſtant countries, that traffick with it. And even to theſe conſiderations it is unneceſſary to reſort, unleſs we can ſuppoſe, that deſpotiſm would have no effect upon commerce; a ſup⯑poſition which does not require to be refuted. If a ſevere taxation was introduced here, and, in ſo ſmall a diſtrict, taxation muſt be ſevere to be productive; if ſuch a taxation was to be introduced, and if the other advantage of conqueſt, that of a forcible levy of ſoldiers, was attempted, commerce would vaniſh in ſilence before the oppreſſor, and the Prince, that ſhould ſeize the liberties of Franckfort, would find nothing but thoſe liberties in his graſp.

On the other hand, what are the advantages of permitting the independence of ſuch a city to the ſovereigns, who have the power of violating it? Thoſe of a neutral barrier are well known, but apply only to military, or political circumſtances. The others are the mar⯑ket, which Franckfort affords, for the produce and manufactures of all the neighbouring ſtates; its value as a banking depôt and empo⯑rium, in which Princes may place their money, without rendering it liable to the orders of each other, or from which they may derive loans, by negotiating ſolely and directly with the lenders; its inca⯑pacity for offenſive meaſures; and its uſefulneſs as a place of meeting to themſelves, or their miniſters, when political connections are to be diſcuſſed.

[228] That the inhabitants do enjoy this independence without and free⯑dom within, we believe, not becauſe they are aſſerted by treaties, or political forms; of which the former might not have ſurvived the temporary intereſts, that concluded them, and the latter might be ſub⯑dued by corruption, if there were the means of it; but becauſe they were acknowledged to us by many temperate and diſcerning perſons, as much aloof from faction, as they were from the affectation, or ſer⯑vility, that ſometimes makes men boaſt themſelves free, only becauſe they have, or would be thought to have, a little ſhare in oppreſſing others. Many ſuch perſons declared to us, that they had a ſubſtan⯑tial, practical freedom; and we thought a teſtimony to their actual enjoyments more valuable than any formal acknowledgments of their rights. As to theſe latter ſecurities, indeed, Franckfort is no better provided than other imperial cities, which have proved their inuti⯑lity. It ſtands in the ſame liſt with Cologne, but is as ſuperior to it in government as in wealth.

The inhabitants having had the good ſenſe to foreſee, that fortifi⯑cations might render them a more deſirable prize to their neighbours, at the ſame time that their real protection muſt depend upon other means, have done little more than ſuſtain their antient walls, which are ſufficient to defend them againſt a ſurpriſe by ſmall parties. They maintain no troops, except a few companies of city-guards, and make their contributions to the army of the Empire in ſpecie. Theſe companies are filled chiefly with middle-aged men, whoſe appearance beſpeaks the plenty and peacefulneſs of the city. Their uniforms, [229] blue and white, are of the cut of thoſe in the prints of MARLBO⯑ROUGH'S days; and their grenadiers' caps are of the ſame peaked ſort, with tin facings, impreſſed with the city arms.

In wars with France, the fate of Franckfort has uſually depended upon that of Mentz, which is properly called the key of Germany, on the weſtern frontier. In the campaign of 1792, Cuſtine detached 3000 troops of the 11,000, with which he had beſieged Mentz, and theſe reached Franckfort, early in the morning of the 22d of October. NEUWINGER, their commander, ſent a letter to the magiſtrates from Cuſtine, demanding a contribution of two millions of florins, which, by a negotiation at Mentz, was reduced to a million and a half, for the preſent. Notice was accordingly given in the city, that the magiſtrates would receive money at four per cent. intereſt, and, on the 23d, at break of day, it began to flow in to the Council-houſe from all quarters. Part was immediately given to NEUWINGER, but payment of the reſt was delayed; ſo that Cuſtine came himſelf on the 27th, and, by throwing the hoſtages into priſon, obtained, on the 31ſt of October, the remainder of the firſt million. For the ſecond, the magiſtrates gave ſecurity to NEUWINGER, but it was never paid; the Convention diſavowed great part of the proceedings of Cuſtine, and the money was not again demanded.

The French, during the whole of their ſtay, were very eager to ſpread exaggerated accounts of their numbers. Troops were accord⯑ingly marched out at one gate of the city, with very little parade, that they might enter with much pomp and in a longer column, at [230] the other. The inhabitants, who were not expert at military nume⯑ration, eaſily believed, that the firſt party had joined other troops, and that the whole amounted to treble their real number. After the entry of the Pruſſians, this contrivance was related by priſoners.

The number of troops, left in the city by Cuſtine, on his retire⯑ment from the neighbouring poſts, in the latter end of November, was 1800 men, with two pieces of cannon. On the 28th, when the Pruſſian Lieutenant Pellet brought a ſummons to ſurrender, Helden, the commander, having ſent to Cuſtine for reinforcements and can⯑non, was anſwered, that no men could be ſpared; and that, as to cannon, he might uſe the city artillery. Helden endeavoured to re⯑move this from the arſenal; but the populace, encouraged by the neighbourhood of the Pruſſians, roſe to prevent him; and there might have been a conſiderable tumult, if Cuſtine had not arrived, on the 29th, and aſſured the magiſtrates, that the garriſon ſhould retire, rather than expoſe the place to a ſiege. The city then became tran⯑quil, and remained ſo till the 2d of December, when the inhabitants, being in church, firſt knew by the noiſe of cannon, that the place was attacked.

General Helden would then have taken his two cannon to the gate, which was contended for, but the inhabitants, remembering Cuſtine's promiſe, would permit no reſiſtance; they cut the harneſs of the horſes, broke the cannon wheels, and themſelves opened the gates to the Pruſſians, or rather to the Heſſians, for the advanced corps of the aſſailants was chiefly formed of them. About 100 fell [231] in this attack. Of the French 41 were killed; 139 wounded; and 800 taken priſoners. The remainder of the 1800 reached Cuſtine's army. A monument, erected without the northern gate of the city, commemorates the loſs of the 100 aſſailants, on the ſpot, on which they fell.

Thus Franckfort, having happily but few fortifications, was loſt and regained, without a ſiege; while Mentz, in a period of ſix more months, had nearly all its beſt buildings deſtroyed, by a ſimilar change of maſters.

We ſtayed here almoſt a week, which was well occupied by viſits, but ſhewed nothing in addition to what is already known of the ſociety of the place. Manners, cuſtoms, the topics of converſation and even dreſs, differ very ſlightly from thoſe of London, in ſimilar ranks; the merchants of Franckfort have more generally the advan⯑tages of travel, than thoſe of England, but they have not that minute knowledge of modern events and characters, which an attention to public tranſactions renders common in our iſland. Thoſe, who have been in England, or who ſpeak Engliſh, ſeem deſirous to diſcuſs the ſtate of parliamentary tranſactions and intereſts, and to remedy the thinneſs of their own public topics, by introducing ours. In ſuch diſcuſſions one error is very general from their want of experience. The faculty of making a ſpeech is taken for the ſtandard of intellec⯑tual power in every ſort of exertion; though there is nothing better known in countries, where public ſpeakers are numerous enough to be often obſerved, than that perſons may be educated to oratory, ſo as to [232] have a facility, elegance and force in it, diſtinct from the endow⯑ments of deliberative wiſdom; may be taught to ſpeak in terms remote from common uſe, to combine them with an unfailing dexterity of ar⯑rangement, and to inveſt every thought with its portion of artificial dignity, who, through the chaos of benefits and evils, which the agita⯑tion of difficult times throws up before the eye of the politician, ſhall be able to ſee no gleam of light, to deſcribe no direct path, to diſcern no difference between greater and leſſer evils, nor to think one whole⯑ſome truth for a confiding and an honeſt country. To eſtimate the general intellectual powers of men, tutored to oratory, from their ſuc⯑ceſs in the practice of it, is as abſurd as to judge of corporeal ſtrength from that of one arm, which may have been rendered unuſually ſtrong by exerciſe and art.

Of the ſociety at Franckfort, Meſſrs. Bethman, the chief bankers, ſeem able to collect a valuable part; and their politeneſs to ſtrangers induces them to do it often. A traveller, who miſſes their table, loſes, both as to converſation and elegant hoſpitality, a welcome proof of what freedom and commerce can do againſt the mental and phyſi⯑cal deſolation otherwiſe ſpread over the country.

The aſſiſtance, which the mutual uſe of languages gives to a con⯑nection between diſtant places, we were happy to ſee exiſting and increaſing, to the advantage of England, at Franckfort. At the Meſſrs. Bethmans', one day, French was nearly excluded, the majo⯑rity being able to converſe with nine or ten Engliſh, who were there, in their own language. Of the merchants, who have not been in [233] England, ſeveral ſpeak Engliſh, without difficulty, and the riſing generation, it is ſaid, will be generally accompliſhed in it.

One of the luxuries of Franckfort is a Cabinet Literaire, which is open to ſtrangers by the introduction of members. There the beſt periodical publications of the Continent are received, and their titles immediately entered in a book, ſo that the reading is not diſturbed by converſation with the librarian. It excited our ſhame to hear, that ſome contrivance had, for ſeveral months, prevented the ſociety from receiving a very valuable Engliſh publication.

After this, the Theatre may ſeem to require ſome notice. It is a modern, but not an elegant building, ſtanding in an area, that renders it convenient of acceſs, and nearly in the middle of the city. The interior, which has been gaudily decorated, contains a pit, three rows of boxes, that ſurround the audience part, and a gallery over them in the centre. It is larger than the Little Theatre in the Haymarket, and, in form, reſembles that of Covent Garden, except that ſix or ſeven of the central boxes, in each tier, encroach upon the oval figure by a projection over the pit. The boxes are let by the year; the price of admiſſion for non-ſubſcribers, is a florin, for which they may find places in the boxes, engaged by their friends, or in the pit, which is in the ſame proportion of eſteem as that at an Opera-houſe.

The performances are plays and operas alternately; both in Ger⯑man; and the muſic of the latter chiefly by German compoſers. The players are very far beneath mediocrity; but the orcheſtra, when we heard it, accorded with the fame of German muſicians, for ſpirit and [234] preciſion. In theſe qualities even the wandering parties, that play at inns, are very ſeldom deficient.

The ſtage was well lighted, but the other parts of the theatre were left in duſkineſs, which ſcarcely permitted us to ſee the diamonds, profuſely worn by ſeveral ladies. Six o'clock is the hour of begin⯑ning, and the performances conclude ſoon after nine.

The Cabinet Literaire and the Theatre are the only permanent places of public amuſement at Franckfort, which is, however, in want of no more, the inhabitants being accuſtomed to paſs much of their time in friendly parties, at their houſes. Though wealth is, of courſe, earneſtly and univerſally ſought for in a place purely mercantile, we were aſſured, that the richeſt perſons, and there are ſome, who have above half a million ſterling, find no more attention in theſe parties than others. This was acknowledged and ſeparately boaſted of by ſome of the very rich, and by thoſe who were comparatively poor. We are ſo far able to report it for true, as that we could never diſcern the leaſt traces of the officiouſneſs, or ſubſerviency that, in a corrupt and debaſed ſtate of ſociety, frequently point to the wealthieſt individuals in every private party.

Theſe and many other circumſtances would probably render Franckfort a place of reſidence for foreigners, if the magiſtrates, either dreading the increaſe of luxury, or the interference of ſtrangers with their commerce, did not prevent this by prohibiting them from being lodged otherwiſe than at inns. It was with difficulty, that an Engliſh officer, acting as Commiſſary to ſome of the German regi⯑ments, [235] lately raiſed upon our pay, could obtain an exemption from this rule, at the requeſt of the Hanoverian Miniſter.

Round the city, are ſeveral well-diſpoſed walks, as pleaſant as the flatneſs of the nearer country will permit; and, at intervals, along theſe, are the country houſes of the merchants, who do not chooſe to go beyond the city territories, for a reſidence. Saxenhauſen, a ſmall town, on the other ſide of the Maine, though incorporated with Franckfort, as to juriſdiction, and connected with it by a bridge, is chiefly inhabited by watermen and other labourers.

We left Franckfort, after a ſtay of ſix days, fortified by a German paſſport from M. de Swartzhoff, the Hanoverian Miniſter, who obli⯑gingly adviſed us to be prepared with one in the native language of the Auſtrian officers. At Mentz, the ceremonies of examination were rendered much more troubleſome than before, the Governor, General Kalkreuth, happening to be in the great ſquare, who choſe to make ſeveral travellers wait as if for a ſort of review before him, though, after all, nothing was to be ſaid but ‘"Go to the Comman⯑dant, who will look at your paſſports."’ This Commandant was M. de Lucadou, a gentleman of conſiderate and polite manners, who, knowing our friends in Mentz, added to his confirmation of M. de Swartzhoff's paſſport an addreſs to M. de Wilde, the Intendant of ſome ſalt mines in Switzerland, which he recommended to us to ſee. Theſe circumſtances are neceſſary to be mentioned here, becauſe they ſoon led to a diſagreeable and very contradictory event in our journey.

[236] The next morning, we ſet out from Mentz, and were conducted by our voiturier over a ſummer road, on the left bank of the Rhine, then flowing with the melted ſnows of Switzerland.

OPPENHEIM.

THIS is the firſt town of the Palatinate, on arriving from the north; and it bears marks of the devaſtation, inflicted upon that country, in the laſt century, more flagrant than could be expected, when the length of the intervening time, and the complete recovery of other cities from ſimilar diſaſters, are conſidered. Louis the Four⯑teenth's fury has converted it from a populous city into little more than a pictureſque ruin. It was burned in 1668; and the walls, which remain in double, or ſometimes in treble circles, are more viſible, at a diſtance, than the ſtreets, which have been thinly erected within them. Above all, is the Landſcroon, or crown of the coun⯑try, a caſtle erected on an eminence, which commands the Rhine, and digniſies the view from it, for ſeveral miles. The whole city, or rather ruin, ſtands on a brow, over this majeſtic river.

The gates do not now open directly into ſtreets, but into lanes of ſtone walls between vineyards and gardens, formed on the ſite of houſes, never reſtored, ſince the fire. The town itſelf has ſhrunk from its antient limits into a few ſtreets in the centre. In ſome of the interſtices, corn grows up to the walls of the preſent houſes. In [237] others, the ruins of former buildings remain, which the owners have not been tempted to remove, for the ſake of cultivating their ſites. Of the cathedral, ſaid to have been once the fineſt on the Rhine, nearly all the walls and the tower ſtill exiſt; but theſe are the only remains of grandeur in a city, which ſeems entirely incapable of overcoming in this century the wretchedneſs it inherits from the laſt.

Had the walls been as ſtrong as they are extenſive, this place might not improbably have endured a ſiege in the preſent age, having been ſeveral times loſt and regained. It was ſurrendered to the French, without a conteſt, in the campaign of 1792. After their retreat from Worms, and during the ſiege of Mentz, it was occupied by the Pruſſians; and, in December 1793, when the allies retired from Alſace, the Duke of Brunſwick eſtabliſhed his head-quarters in it, for the purpoſe of covering the fortreſs. His army ovens remained near the northern gate, in July 1794, when we paſſed through it. In October of the fame year it fell again into the hands of the French.

No city on the banks of the Rhine is ſo well ſeated for affording a view of it as this, which, to the north, overlooks all its windings as far as Mentz, and, ſouthward, commands them towards Worms. The river is alſo here of a noble breadth and force, beating ſo vehe⯑mently againſt the water-mills, moored near the ſide, that they ſeem likely to be borne away with the current. A city might be built on the ſite of Oppenheim, which ſhould faintly rival the caſtle of Goodeſ⯑berg, in the richneſs, though not in the ſublimity of its proſpect.

From hence the road leads through a fertile country of corn and [238] vines, but at a greater diſtance from the river, to Worms, five or ſix miles from which it becomes broad, ſtraight, and bordered with regu⯑larly-planted trees, that form an avenue to the city. Soon after leav⯑ing Oppenheim, we had the firſt ſymptom of an approach to the immediate theatre of the war, meeting a waggon, loaded with wounded ſoldiers. On this road, there was a long train of carriages, taking ſtores to ſome military depôt. The defacement of the Elec⯑tor's arms, on poſts near the road, ſhewed alſo, that the country had been lately occupied by the French; as the delay in cutting the ripe corn did, that there was little expectation of their return.

WORMS.

THE condition of Worms is an aggravated repetition of the wretchedneſs of Oppenheim. It ſuffered ſomething in the war, which the unfortunate Elector, ſon-in-law of our James the Firſt, provoked by accepting the kingdom of Bohemia. Louis the Four⯑teenth came upon it next, and, in 1669, burned every thing that could be conſumed. Nothing was reſtored, but on that part, which was the centre of the antient city; and the walls include, as at Oppenheim, corn and vineyards upon the ground, which was once covered with houſes, and which plainly appears to have been ſo, from the lanes that paſs between, and doors that open into the incloſures. A much larger ſpace is ſo covered, than at Oppen⯑heim, [239] for you are ſome time in driving from the northern gate of the old city to the firſt ſtreet of the preſent one.

On the right of the road ſtands the ſkeleton of the Electoral palace, which the French burned in one of the late campaigns; and it is as curious as melancholy to obſerve how the ſigns of antient and modern deſolation mingle with each other. On one hand is a palace, burned by the preſent French; on the other, the walls of a church, laid open by Louis the Fourteenth.

The firſt and principal ſtreet of theplace leads through theſe min⯑gled ruins, and through rows of dirty houſes, miſerably tenanted, to the other end of the city. A few others branch from it, chiefly towards the Rhine, including ſometimes the ruins, and ſometimes the repaired parts of churches; of which ſtreets, narrow, ill-paved and gloomy, conſiſts the city of Worms. The French General, that lately wrote to Paris, ‘"We entered the fair epiſcopal city of Worms,"’ may be ſuppoſed to have derived his terms from a geographical dictionary, rather than from a view of his conqueſt.

We were now in a place, occupied by part of the acting army of the allies, which, if not immediately liable to be attacked, was to be defended by the maintenance of poſts, at a very ſhort diſtance. Troops paſſed through it daily, for the ſervice of theſe poſts. The noiſe of every cannonade was audible, and the reſult of every engagement was immediately known, for it might make an advance, or a retreat neceſſary from Worms. The wounded men arrived, ſoon after the intelligence, to the military hoſpitals of the Pruſſians. A city, ſo cir⯑cumſtanced, [240] ſeemed to differ but little from a camp; and we were aware, for a few hours, of a departure from the ſecurity and order of civil life.

The inn, which was not otherwiſe a mean building, was nearly deſtitute of furniture; ſo that the owner was prepared to receive any ſort of gueſts, or maſters. The only proviſion, which we could ob⯑tain was bread, the commoneſt ſort of wine, and one piece of cold veal; for the city was under military juriſdiction, and no gueſts were allowed to have more than one diſh at their table.

In the afternoon, we ſaw, for the firſt time, a crowd in a German city. A narrow waggon, of which nearly all but the wheels was baſket-work, had arrived from the army, with a wounded officer, who lay upon the floor, ſupported by his ſervant, but occaſionally roſe to return the ſalutes of paſſengers. This was the Prince of An⯑halt Pleſſis, who had been wounded, in the morning, when the French attacked all the neighbouring lines of the allies, and an inde⯑ciſive engagement enſued, the noiſe of which had been diſtinctly heard, at Worms. He was hurt in the leg, and deſcended, with much difficulty, from the waggon; but did not, for an inſtant, loſe the elegance of his addreſs, and continued bowing through the paſſage to his apartment. No doubt was entertained of his recovery, but there ſeemed to be a conſiderable degree of ſympathy, attending this young man.

We had not time to look into the churches, or numerous monaſ⯑teries, that yet remain, at Worms; the war appeared to have depo⯑pulated [241] the latter, for not a monk was to be ſeen. The cathedral, or church of St. Mary and St. Peter, is one of the moſt antient ſacred buildings in Germany, having been founded at leaſt as early as the commencement of the ſeventh century. One of the prebends was eſtabliſhed in 1033, another in 1058. The Dominicans, Carmelites, Capuchins and Auguſtines have each a monaſtery, at Worms; as have the Ciſtercians and the Auguſtines a nunnery. A Proteſtant church was alſo conſecrated, on the 9th of June 1744; ſomething more than two hundred years, after the ineffectual conference held here of Proteſtant and Catholic divines, which Charles the Fifth inter⯑rupted, when Melancthon, on one ſide, and Echius, on the other, had engaged in it, ordering them to reſume their arguments, in his pre⯑ſence, at Ratiſbon. This meeting was five years previous to the celebrated diet of Worms, at which Charles, having then eſtimated the temporal ſtrength of the two parties, openly ſhewed his animoſity to the Proteſtants, as Maurice of Saxony did his intriguing ambition, by referring the queſtion to the Council of Trent.

The Jews, at Worms, inhabit a ſeparate ſtreet, and have a ſyna⯑gogue, of great antiquity, their numbers having been once ſuch as to endanger the peace of the city; but, in 1689, when the French turned their ſynagogue into a ſtable, they fled with the reſt of the opu⯑lent inhabitants to Holland. Thoſe of the preſent day can have very few articles of traffic, except money, the changing of which may have been frequent, on account of the neighbourhood of France.

Worms is ſomewhat connected with Engliſh hiſtory, having been [242] occupied by the troops, which James the Firſt uſeleſsly ſent to the aſſiſtance of the proſcribed Elector Palatine, when his juſt abhorrence of continental wars was once, though tardily, overcome by the en⯑treaties of his daughter. Here too George the Second held his head⯑quarters, from the 7th to the 20th of September 1743; on the 14th of which month, Lord Carteret concluded, in his name, an offenſive and defenſive treaty with the Miniſters of Hungary and Sardinia.

This city, like Cologne, retains ſome affectation of the Roman form of government, to which it was rendered ſubject by Caeſar, with the title of Auguſta Vangionum. The STADTMEISTER is ſometimes called the CONSUL, and the SCHULTHEIS, or Mayor, the PRAETOR. But, in 1703, ſome trivial tumult afforded a pretence for aboliſhing its little remains of liberty, and the Elector Palatine was declared its protector. This blow completed the deſolation, which the diſaſters of the preceding century had commenced; and a city, that was once called the market of the Palatinate, as the Palatinate was reputed the market of Germany, continues to exhibit nothing more than the ruins of its antient proſperity.

Few of the preſent inhabitants can be the deſcendants of thoſe, who witneſſed its deſtruction in 1689; for we could not find, that the particulars of that event were much known, or commemorated by them, dreadful and impreſſive as they muſt have been. A column of Louis the Fourteenth's army had entered the city, in September of the preceding year, under the command of the Marquis de Bon⯑fleur, who ſoon diſtreſſed the inhabitants by preparations for blow⯑ing [243] up the walls with gunpowder. The mines were ſo numerous and large, as to threaten nothing leſs than the entire overwhelming of the city; but, being fired at different times, the walls of the houſes were left ſtanding, though they ſhook with almoſt every exploſion. The artillery and balls had been previouſly carried away to Landau, or Mentz, then poſſeſſed by Louis. At length, on the 12th of May 1689, the Intendant ſent the melancholy news to the magiſtracy, that he had received orders from his monarch to burn the whole city. Six days were allowed for the departure of the inhabitants and the removal of their property; which period was prolonged by their entreaties to nineteen. At the expiration of theſe, on Aſcenſion Day, the 31ſt of May, the French grenadiers were employed from twelve o'clock, till four, in placing combuſtibles about the houſes and public buildings, againſt ſeveral of which large heaps of hay and ſtraw were raiſed. The word being then given, fire was ſet to almoſt every houſe at once, and, in a few hours, the city was reduced to aſhes; the conflagration being ſo general and ſtrong as to be viſible in day⯑light at the diſtance of more than thirty Engliſh miles. Such was one of the calamities of a city, ſo unfortunately ſituated, that the chapter of the cathedral alone proved a loſs by wars, previous to the year 1743, amounting to 1,262,749 florins.

The attention, due to ſo memorable a place, detained us at Worms, till the voiturier talked of being unable to reach Manheim, before the gates would be ſhut, and we let him drive vehemently towards

FRANCKENTHAL,

ANOTHER place, deſtroyed by Louis the Fourteenth, but reſtored upon a plan ſo uniform and convenient, that nothing but a fuller population is neceſſary to confirm its title of a flouriſhing city. The ſtreets, which interſect each other at right angles, are wide and exactly ſtraight; the houſes are handſomely built, but the poverty, or indolence of the owners ſuffers them to partake of the air of neglect, which is general in German habitations; and the ſtreets, though ſpacious and not ill-paved, had ſo few paſſengers, that the depopulation of the place ſeemed to be rendered the more obſervable by its grandeur.

Yet it would be unfair to eſtimate the general proſperity of Franck⯑enthal by its preſent circumſtances, even had we ſtayed long enough to know them more accurately. This place had been occupied but a few weeks before by the French army, who had plundered it, as well as ſeveral other towns of the Palatinate, after the retreat of the allies from Alſace, at the latter end of 1793. The inhabitants had, for the moſt part, returned to their houſes; but their commerce, which is ſaid to have been not contemptible, could not be ſo eaſily reſtored. The manufactures of porcelain, cloths, ſilks, ſpangles, vinegar and ſoap, of which ſome were eſtabliſhed and all are protected by the wiſe libera⯑lity of the Elector, though far from being anſwerable, either in their [245] capitals, or produce, to the Engliſh idea of ſimilar enterpriſes, com⯑mand ſome ſhare with England and France in ſupplying the reſt of Germany. One method of facilitating the operations of trade the Elector has advantageouſly adopted here; that of inſtituting a court upon the ſpot for the deciſion of all cauſes, in which the traders are intereſted; and at his expence a navigable canal has been formed from the town to the Rhine. Artiſts and merchants have alſo ſome privileges, at Franckenthal, of which that of being exempt from the military preſs is not the leaſt.

This preſs, or levy, is the method, by which all the German Princes return their contingents to the army of the Empire. The population of every town and diſtrict in their dominions is known with ſufficient accuracy, and a ſettled number of recruits is ſupplied by each. When theſe are wanted, notice is given, that the men of a certain age muſt aſſemble and caſt lots for the ſervice. Thoſe, who are drawn, may find ſubſtitutes, but with this condition, that the de⯑puty muſt be at leaſt as tall as his principal; a regulation, which makes the price of ſubſtitutes depend upon their height, and fre⯑quently renders it impoſſible for the principals to avail themſelves of the permiſſion. A farmer in this neighbourhood, who was conſider⯑ably above ſix feet in height, could not obtain a ſubſtitute for leſs than a hundred louis d'ors.

Another unpleaſant condition is attached to this exchange: if the ſubſtitute is diſabled, or deſerts, another muſt be ſupplied; and, if he [246] carries his arms, or accoutrements, away, theſe muſt be paid for by the perſon, who ſent him.

After a ride of a few miles, we reached

OGGERSHEIM,

A SMALL town, on the weſt bank of the Rhine, rebuilt in uniform ſtreets, like Franckenthal, having been deſtroyed by the ſame exertion of Louis the Fourteenth's cruelty. Here alſo the modern French had very lately been, and ſome of the ruins, left near the road by Louis, appeared to have ſerved them for kitchens in their excurſion.

At the eaſt end of the town, towards the Rhine, ſtands a chateau of the Elector, built with modern, but not very admirable taſte, and commanding the diſtant river in ſeveral fine points of view. We could not be admitted to ſee the inſide, which is ſaid to have been ſplendid⯑ly decorated; for the French had juſt diſmantled it of the furniture.

The road from hence to Manheim was bordered for its whole length, of at leaſt two miles, by rows of poplars, of which ſome ſtill remain near Oggerſheim; but thoſe within a mile and a half of Man⯑heim, have been felled at one or two feet from the ground. This was done in December 1793, when the French began to advance from Landau, and were expected to beſiege Manheim, their opera⯑tions [247] againſt which might have been covered, in ſome meaſure, by this noble alley.

Near the Rhine, the road is now commanded by two forts, of which one was thrown up during the approach of the French, and completed in the middle of the ſummer, with great care. Theſe con⯑tribute much to the preſent ſecurity of the city, which might other⯑wiſe be bombarded from the oppoſite bank of the river, even by an enemy, who ſhould not be able and ſhould not propoſe to attempt the conqueſt of the place. They are ditched and palliſadoed, but, being divided from the body of the city, by the Rhine, are, of courſe, without the communication, which renders ſuch works capable of a long defence. Round one of theſe forts, the road now winds, entering a part of the works, near the bridge, where there is a guardhouſe for the troops of the Elector.

MANHEIM.

IT was twilight, when we approached Manheim; and the palace, the numerous turrets and the fortiſications had their gran⯑deur probably increaſed by the obſcurity. The bridge of boats is not ſo long as that at Mentz; but we had time enough in paſſing it to obſerve the extent of the city, on the left of which the Neckar pours itſelf into the Rhine, ſo that two ſides are entirely waſhed by their ſtreams. At the next guard-houſe, where we were detained by the [248] uſual enquiries, the troops were more numerous; and ſurely no mili⯑tary figures ever accorded ſo well with the gloomy gates, and walls they guarded. The uniform of the Palatine light troops is a cloſe jacket of motley brown, and pantaloons of the ſame that reach to their half-boots. They have black helmets, with creſts and fronts of braſs, large whiſkers, and their faces, by conſtant expoſure to the ſun, are of the deepeſt brown that can be, without approaching to black. As they ſtood ſingly on the ramparts, or in groups at the gates, their bronze faces and Roman helmets ſeemed of a deeper hue, than the gloom, that partly concealed their figures.

The entrance into Manheim, from the Rhine, is by a ſpacious ſtreet, which leads directly into the centre of the city, and to a large ſquare, planted with limes, conſiſting, on one ſide, of public build⯑ings, and, on the other, of ſeveral noble houſes, one of which is the chief inn, called the Cour Palatine. This is the firſt city in Ger⯑many, that can anſwer, by its appearance, the expectations of a foreigner, who has formed them from books. Its aſpect is truly that of a capital and of the reſidence of a Court; except that in the day⯑time a traveller may be ſomewhat ſurpriſed at the fewneſs of paſſen⯑gers and the ſmall ſhew of traffic, amidſt ſuch public buildings, and in ſtreets of ſuch convenience and extent. The fairneſs, the grandeur and the ſtatelineſs, which he may have ſeen attributed to other Ger⯑man cities, till he is as much diſguſted as deceived by every idea de⯑rived from deſcription, may be perceived in ſeveral parts of Man⯑heim, and the juſtneſs of diſpoſition in all.

[249] Nor is the beauty of the preſent city ſolely owing to the deſtruction of the antient one by Louis the Fourteenth, in 1689, the year of gene⯑ral devaſtation in the Palatinate. It was laid out in right lines, though to a leſs extent, in the beginning of the ſeventeenth century, when Frederic the Fifth laid the foundation of the fortifications, behind which a town was built, that adopted the antient name of Manheim, from a neighbouring one then in decay. Theſe were the fortifica⯑tions and the town deſtroyed by the French in 1689. The plan of both was but extended, when the preſent works were formed upon the ſyſtem of Cohorn, and the city by degrees reſtored, with ſtreets, which, interſecting each other at right angles, divide it into an hun⯑dred and ſeven ſquare portions. The number of the inhabitants, excluſive of the garriſon, was, in 1784, 21,858.

Some of the ſtreets are planted with rows of trees, and there are five or ſix open places, ſuitable for promenades, or markets. The cuſtomhouſe, which forms a ſide to one of theſe, is a noble ſtone building, rather appearing to be a palace, than an office, except that under the colonnades, which ſurround it, are ſhops for jewellery and other commodities.

The Electoral palace, which opens, on one ſide, to the city, and, on the other, to the ramparts, was built by the Elector Charles-Phi⯑lippe, who, in the year 1721, removed his reſidence hither from Heidelberg, on account of ſome difference with the magiſtrates, or, as is ſaid, of the prevalence of religious diſputes in that city. He began to erect it in 1720; but the ediſice was not completed, till the [250] right wing was added by the preſent Elector, not to be uſed as a reſi⯑dence, but to contain a gallery of paintings, cabinets of antiquities and natural hiſtory, a library, treaſury and manege. We paſſed a morning in viewing the apartments in the other wing, all the paint⯑ings and books having been removed from this, as well as great part of the furniture from the whole palace, in the dread of an approach⯑ing bombardment. The perſon, who ſhewed them, took care to keep the credit of each room ſafe, by aſſuring us at the door, that it was not in its uſual condition. The Elector had been, for ſome months, at Munich, but the Duke and Ducheſs of Deux Ponts and their family have reſided in this palace, ſince their retirement from Deux Ponts, in the latter end of the campaign of 1792.

The rooms are all lofty, and floored with inlaid work of oak and cheſnut; the ceilings, for the moſt part, painted; and the walls covered with tapeſtry, finely wrought, both as to colour and deſign. Some of this came from a manufactory, eſtabliſhed by the Elector, at Franckenthal.

The furniture, left in ſeveral of the rooms, was grand and antient, but could never have been ſo coſtly as thoſe, who have ſeen the man⯑ſions of wealthy individuals in England, would expect to find in a palace. The Elector's ſtate-bed was incloſed not only by a railing, but by a glaſs caſe to the height of the ceiling, with windows, that could be opened at pleaſure, to permit a converſation with his cour⯑tiers, when compliments were paid literally at a levee. In the court of France, this practice continued even to very late years, and there [251] were three diſtinct privileges of entrée, denoting the time, at which perſons of different claſſes were permitted to enter the chamber. In the Earl of Portland's embaſſy for King William to Louis the Four⯑teenth, it was thought a ſignal mark of honour, that he was admitted to his audience, not only in the chamber, but within the rails; and there the French Monarch ſtood with the three young Princes, his grandſons, the Count de Tholouſe, the Duke d'Aumont and the Ma⯑reſchal de Noailles. The Duke made his ſpeech covered, after which the King entered into converſation with him, for ſeveral minutes.

One room, at Manheim, was called the Silver Chamber, from the quantity of ſolid ſilver, uſed about the furniture. Such articles as could be carried away entire, had been removed, but the walls were disfigured by the loſs of the ornaments torn from them, on account of their value. In ſeveral rooms, the furniture, that remained, was partly packed, to be carried away upon the next alarm. The con⯑tents of the wardrobe were in this ſtate, and the interior of theſe now deſolated apartments ſeemed like the ſkeleton of grandeur. The beauty of the painted ceilings, however, the richneſs of the va⯑rious proſpects, commanded by the windows, and the great extent of the building ſufficiently accounted for the reputation, which this palace has, of being the fineſt in Germany.

It is built of ſtone, which has ſomewhat the reddiſh hue of that uſed at Mentz, and, though ſeveral parts are poſitively diſapproved by perſons of ſkill in architecture, the whole is certainly a grand and ſumptuous building.

[252] The ſituation of Manheim and the ſcenery around it are viewed to great advantage from the tower of the Obſervatory, in which ſtrangers are politely received by the Profeſſor of Aſtronomy, whoſe reſidence is eſtabliſhed in it. From this are ſeen the fruitful plains of the Palatinate, ſpreading, on all ſides, to bold mountains, of which thoſe of Lorrain, that extend on the weſt, loſe in diſtance the variety of their colouring, and, aſſuming a blue tint, retain only the dignity of their form. Among theſe, the vaſt and round headland, called the Tonneſberg, which is in ſight, during the greateſt part of the journey from Mentz to Manheim, is pre-eminent.

But the chain, that binds the horizon on the eaſt, and is known by the name of the Bergſtraſſe, or road of mountains, is near enough to diſplay all their wild irregularity of ſhape, the foreſt glens, to which they open, and the various tints of rock and ſoil, of red and purple, that mingle with the corn and wood on their lower ſteeps. Theſe mountains are ſeen in the north from their commencement near Franckfort, and this line is never interrupted from thence ſouth⯑ward into Switzerland. The rivals to them, on the ſouth weſt, are the mountains of Alſace, which extend in long perſpective, and at a diſtance appear to unite with thoſe of the Bergſtraſſe. Among the numerous towns and villages that throng the Palatinate, the ſpires of Oppenheim and Worms are diſtinctly viſible to the north; almoſt beneath the eye are thoſe of Franckenthal, and Oggerſheim, and to the ſouthward Spires ſhews its many towers.

In the nearer ſcene the Neckar, after tumbling from among the [253] foreſts of the Bergſtraſſe, falls into the Rhine, a little below the walls of Manheim; and the gardens of a ſummer chateau belonging to the Elector occupy the angle between the two rivers.

Theſe gardens were now ſurrendered by the Prince to be the camp of three thouſand of his troops, detached from the garriſon of the city, which, at this time, conſiſted of nearly ten thouſand men. In ſeveral places, on the banks of the two rivers, batteries were thrown up, and, near the camp, a regular fort, for the purpoſe of commanding both; ſo that Manheim, by its natural and artificial means of defence, was ſuppoſed to be rendered nearly unaſſailable, on two ſides. On that of Heidelberg, it was not ſo ſecure; nor could the others be defended by a garriſon of leſs than 15,000 men. It was on this account, that the Elector detained ten thouſand of his troops from actual ſervice, contrary, as is ſaid, to the remon⯑ſtrances of the Emperor, who offered, but without ſucceſs, to garri⯑ſon his capital with Auſtrians. From the obſervatory, the camp and the works were eaſily ſeen, and, by the help of a Dollond tele⯑ſcope, the only optical inſtrument remaining, the order of both was ſo exactly pointed out by our guide, that it was not difficult to com⯑prehend the uſes of them. Military preparations, indeed, occurred very frequently in Manheim. In the gardens of the chief Electoral palace, extending to the ramparts over the Rhine, cannon were planted, which were as regularly guarded by ſentinels as in the other parts of the fortifications.

All the gates of Manheim appear to be defended by fortifications [254] of unuſual ſtrength. Beſides two broad ditches, there are batteries, which play directly upon the bridges, and might deſtroy them in a few minutes. The gates are guarded, with the utmoſt ſtrictneſs, and no perſon is ſuffered to enter them, after ten at night, without the expreſs permiſſion of the governor. When a courier arrives, who wiſhes to uſe his privilege of paſſing, at all hours, he puts ſome token of his office into a ſmall tin box, which is kept on the outſide of the ditch, to be drawn acroſs it by a cord, that runs upon a roller on each bank. The officer of the guard carries this to the governor, and obtains the keys; but ſo much time is paſſed in this ſort of appli⯑cation, that couriers, when the nights are ſhort, uſually wait the opening of the gates, which is ſoon after day-light, in ſummer, and at ſix, or ſeven, in winter.

The abſence of the Elector, we were aſſured, had much altered the appearance of Manheim, where ſcarcely a carriage was now to be ſeen, though there were traces enough of the gaiety and general ſplendour of this little Court. Here are an Opera Houſe, a German Comedy, an Amateur Concert, an Electoral Lottery, an Academy of Sculpture and Deſign, and an Academy of Sciences. The Opera performances are held in a wing of the palace, and were eſtabliſhed in 1742, but have not attained much celebrity, being ſupported chiefly by performers from the other Theatre. This laſt is called a national eſtabliſhment, the players being Germans, and the Thea⯑tre founded in 1779 at the expence of the Elector. The Baron de Dahlberg, one of his Miniſters, has the ſuperintendance of it. [255] The Amateur Concert is held, every Friday, during the winter, and is much frequented.

The Electoral Lotteries, for there are two, are drawn in the pre⯑ſence of the Miniſter of Finances, and one of them is leſs diſadvan⯑tageous for the gameſters than is uſual with ſuch undertakings. That, which conſiſts of chances determined in the cuſtomary way, gives the Elector an advantage of only five to four over the ſubſcribers. The other, which is formed upon the more intricate model of that of Ge⯑noa, entitles the ſubſcribers to prizes, proportioned to the number of times a certain ticket iſſues from the wheel, five numbers being drawn out of ninety, or rather five drawings of one number each being ſuc⯑ceſſively made out of ninety tickets. A ticket, which iſſues once in theſe five drawings, wins fifteen times the value of the ſtake; one, that ſhould be drawn each of the five times, would entitle the owner to have his original ſtake multiplied by ſixty thouſand, and the product would be his prize. The undertaker of this latter Lottery has the chances immenſely in his favour.

From the very large income, to which theſe Lotteries contribute a part, the preſent Elector has certainly made conſiderable diſburſe⯑ments, with uſeful purpoſes, if not to uſeful effects. Of his founda⯑tion are the Academy of Sciences, which was opened in 1763, for weekly ſittings, and has proceeded to ſome correſpondence with other Academies; the German Society, eſtabliſhed for the eaſy pur⯑poſe of purifying and the difficult one of fixing language; the Ca⯑binet of Phyſics, or rather of experimental philoſophy, celebrated [256] for the variety and magnitude of its inſtruments, among which are two burning glaſſes of three feet diameter, ſaid to be capable of lique⯑fying bodies, even bottles filled with water, at 10 feet diſtance; the Obſervatory, of 108 feet high, in which all the chief inſtruments were Engliſh; a Botanical Garden and Directorſhip; an Academy of Sculpture, and a Cabinet of Engravings and Drawings, formed un⯑der the direction of M. Krahe of Duſſeldorff, in 400 folio volumes.

Of all theſe eſtabliſhments, none of the ornaments, or materials, that were portable, now remain at Manheim. The aſtronomical in⯑ſtruments, the celebrated collection of ſtatues, the paintings and the prints have been removed, together with the Electoral treaſure of diamonds and jewels, ſome to Munich and ſome to other places of ſecurity. But, though we miſſed a ſight, which even its rarity would have rendered welcome, it ſeems proper, after ſuch frequent notice of the barrenneſs of Germany, to mention what has been collected in one of its chief cities.

The expectation of an attack had diſmantled other houſes, beſides the Elector's, of their furniture; for, in the Cour Palatine, a very ſpacious, and really a good inn, not a curtain and ſcarcely a ſpoon was left. A cauſe de la guerre was, indeed, the general excuſe for every deficiency, uſed by thoſe, who had civility enough to offer one; but, in truth, the war had not often incroached upon the ordi⯑nary ſtock of conveniencies in Germany, which was previouſly too low to be capable of much reduction. The places, which the French had actually entered, are, of courſe, to be excepted; but [257] it may otherwiſe be believed, that Germany can loſe little by a war, more than the unfortunate labourers, whom it forces to become ſoldiers. The loſs of wealth muſt come chiefly from other countries. A rich nation may give preſent treaſure; a commercial nation may give both preſent treaſure and the means of future competence.

The land near Manheim is chiefly planted with tobacco and mad⯑der, and the landſcape is enlivened with ſmall, but neat country⯑houſes, ſcattered along the margin of the Neckar. The neighbour⯑hood abounds in pleaſant rides, and, whether you wind the high banks of the majeſtic Rhine, or the borders of the more tranquil Neckar, the mountains of the Bergſtraſſe, tumbled upon each other in wild confuſion, generally form the magnificent back ground of the ſcene.

On returning from an excurſion of this kind at the cloſe of even⯑ing, the ſoldiers at the gates are frequently heard chanting martial ſongs in parts and chorus; a fonorous muſic in ſevere uniſon with the ſolemnity of the hour and the imperfect forms, that meet the eye, of ſentinels keeping watch beneath the duſky gateways, while their brethren, repoſing on the benches without, mingle their voices in the deep chorus. Rude and ſimple as are theſe ſtrains, they are often ſingularly impreſſive, and touch the imagination with ſome⯑thing approaching to horror, when the circumſtances of the place are remembered, and it is conſidered how ſoon theſe men, ſent to in⯑flict death on others, may themſelves be thrown into the unnum⯑bered heap of the military ſlain.

SCHWEZINGEN.

AN excellent road, ſheltered for nine Engliſh miles by rows of high poplars, conducted us through richly cultivated plains from Manheim to Schwezingen, a ſmall village, diſtinguiſhed by an Electoral chateau and gardens. This was one of the pleaſanteſt rides we had found in Germany, for the road, though it exhibited little of either the wild or pictureſque, frequently opened towards the mountains, bright with a variety of colouring, and then again was ſhrouded among woods and plantations, that bordered the neigh⯑bouring fields, and brought faintly to remembrance the ſtyle and mingled verdure of our native landſcape.

Schwezingen had been very lately the Auſtrian head-quarters, for the army of the Upper Rhine, and ſome ſoldiers were ſtill ſtationed near the road to guard an immenſe magazine of wood; but there were otherwiſe no military ſymptoms about the place.

The chateau is an old and inelegant building, not large enough to have been ever uſed as a formal reſidence. The preſent Elector has added to it two wings, each of ſix hundred feet long, but ſo low, that the apartments are all on the ground floor. Somewhat of that air of neglect, which can ſadden even the moſt delightful ſcenes, is viſible here; ſeveral of the windows are broken, and the theatre, [259] muſic-room, and ball-room, which have been laid out in one of the wings, are abandoned to duſt and lumber.

The gardens, however, are preſerved in better order. Before the palace, a long viſta of lawn and wood, with numerous and ſpacious fountains, guarded by ſtatues, diſplay ſomething of the old French manner; other parts ſhew charming ſcenery, and deep ſylvan receſ⯑ſes, where nature is again at liberty; in a bay formed by the woods is an amphitheatre of fragrant orange trees, placed in front of a light ſemicircular green-houſe, and crowned with lofty groves. Near this delicious ſpot, extends a bending arcade of lattice-work, interwoven with vines and many beautifully flowering plants; a ſort of ſtructure, the filagree lightneſs of which it is impoſſible not to admire, againſt precept, and perhaps, when general effect is conſidered, againſt ne⯑ceſſary taſte. In another part, ſheltered by the woods, is an edifice in the ſtyle of a Turkiſh moſque, with its light cloiſtered courts, ſlender minarets, and painted entrances, inſcribed with Arabic mot⯑tos, which by the German tranſlations appear to expreſs the pleaſure of friendly converſation and of indolence in ſummer. The gardens have this reſult of a judicious arrangement, that they ſeem to extend much beyond their real limits, which we diſcovered only by aſcend⯑ing one of the minarets. They are open to the public, during great part of every day, under certain rules for their preſervation, of which copies are paſted up in ſeveral places.

CARLSRUHE.

AT Schwezingen the fine Electoral road concludes, and we began to wind along the ſkirts of a foreſt on the left, having on the right an open corn country, beyond which appeared the towers of Spires and Philipſburg, of which the former was then the head⯑quarters of the Auſtrian army, and the latter is memorable for having given birth to Melancthon in 1491. Waghauſel and Bruch⯑ſal are ſmall poſting places in this route, at a village between which we had another inſtance of the little attention paid to travellers in Germany. At a ſmall inn, noxious with ſome fumigation uſed againſt bugs, we were detained a quarter of an hour, becauſe the landlord, who had gone out after our arrival, had not left word how much we ſhould pay, and the poor old woman, who, without ſhoes or ſtockings, attended us, was terrified when we talked of leaving what was proper, and proceeding before his return.

About a mile beyond Bruchſal our poſtillion quitted the chauſſée, and entered a ſummer road, through the deep and extenſive foreſt of Carlſruhe, preſerved by the Margrave of Baden for the ſhelter of game. Avenues cut through this foreſt for nine or ten miles in every direction, converge at his palace and city of Carlſruhe, as at a point. Other cruelties than thoſe of the chaſe ſometimes take place in theſe delightful ſcenes, for an amphitheatre has been formed in [261] the woods, where imitations of a Spaniſh bull feaſt have been exhi⯑bited; to ſuch horrid means of preventing vacuity of mind has a prince had recourſe, who is otherwiſe diſtinguiſhed for the elegance of his taſte, and the ſuavity of his manners!

The ſcenery of this foreſt is very various. Sometimes we found our way through groves of ancient pine and fir, ſo thickly planted that their lower branches were withered for want of air, and it ſeemed as if the carriage could not proceed between them; at others we paſſed under the ſpreading ſhade of cheſnuts, oak and walnut, and croſſed many a cool ſtream, green with the impending foliage, on whoſe ſequeſtered bank one almoſt expected to ſee the moralizing Jacques; ſo exactly did the ſcene accord with Shakeſpeare's deſcrip⯑tion. The woods again opening, we found ourſelves in a noble avenue, and ſaw the ſtag gracefully bounding acroſs it ‘"to more profound repoſe;"’ while now and then a hut, formed of rude green planks under ſome old oak, ſeemed, by its ſmoked ſides, to have often afforded a ſheltered repaſt to hunting parties.

Near Carlſruhe the gardens of the Prince and then the palace be⯑come viſible, the road winding along them, on the edge of the fo⯑reſt, till it enters the northern gate of the city, the uniformity of which has the ſame date as its completion, the ground plot having been entirely laid out between January and June 1715, on the 17th of which month the Margrave Charles William laid the foundation ſtone.

The ſtreets are accordingly ſpacious, light, and exactly ſtraight; [262] but not ſo magnificent as thoſe of Manheim, and ſtill leſs enlivened with paſſengers. Since the commencement of the war, the gaieties of the Court, which afforded ſome occupation to the inhabitants, have ceaſed; the nobility have left their houſes; and the Margrave is contented with the amuſements of his library, in which Engliſh literature is ſaid to fill a conſiderable ſpace.

Carlſruhe has the advantage of not being fortified; ſo that the inhabitants are not oppreſſed by a numerous garriſon, and ſtrangers paſs through it, though ſo near the ſeat of war, without interrup⯑tion. It is leſs than Manheim by at leaſt half, and has no conſider⯑able public building, except the palace, from the ſpacious area before which, all the ſtreets proceed as radii, till their furtheſt ends fill up the figure of a ſemicircle. The houſes in the area, which immediately front the palace, are built over a piazza interrupted only by the commencement of the ſtreets. The palace has, of courſe, an unexampled advantage in the mixture of town and rural ſcenery in its proſpects, looking on one ſide through all the ſtreets of the city, and on the other through thirty-two foreſt alleys, cut to various lengths of from ten to fifteen Engliſh miles each; few, however, of the latter proſpects are now commanded except from the upper win⯑dows, the preſent Elector having entirely changed the ſtyle of the intervening gardens, and permitted them to be laid out in the Engliſh taſte, without reſpect to the thirty-two interſections, that rendered them conformable with the foreſt.

We paſſed part of two days at Carlſruhe, and were chiefly in theſe [263] gardens, which are of the moſt enchanting beauty and richneſs. The warmth of the climate draws up colours for the ſhrubs and plants, which we thought could not be equalled in more northern latitudes; two thouſand and ſeven hundred orange and lemon trees, loaded with fruit and bloſſoms, perfumed the air; and choice ſhrubs, marked with the Linnean diſtinctions, compoſed the thickets. The gardens, being limited only by the foreſts, appear to unite with them; and the deep verdure and luxuriance of the latter are contraſted ſweetly with the tender green of the lawns and plants, and with the variety of ſcarce and majeſtic trees, mingled with the garden groves.

The palace is a large and ſumptuous, though not an elegant edi⯑ſice, built of ſtone like all the reſt of the city, and at the ſame period. The Margrave generally reſides in it, and has rendered it a valuable home, by adding greatly to the library, filling an obſervatory with excellent inſtruments, and preſerving the whole ſtructure in a condition not uſual in Germany. The ſpot, compared with the ſurrounding country, appeared like Milton's Eden—like Paradiſe opened in the wild.

Beyond Carlſruhe the road begins to approach the Rhine, which we had loſt ſight of near Manheim; and, though the river is never within view, the country is conſidered as a military frontier, being conſtantly patrolled by troops. Some of theſe were of the Prince of Condé's army of emigrants, who have no uniform, and are diſtin⯑guiſhed only by the white cockade, and by a bandage of white linen, [264] impreſſed with black fleurs de lis, upon the right arm. They were chiefly on foot, and then wore only their ſwords, without fire⯑arms.

Near the road, a ſmall party of Auſtrians were guarding a maga⯑zine, before a tent, marked, like their regimentals, with green upon white. Soon afterwards, our poſtillion drew up on one ſide, to permit a train of carriages to paſs, and immediately announced the Prinz von Condé, who was in an open landau, followed by two covered waggons for his kitchen and laundry, and by a coach with attendants.

He appeared to be between fifty and ſixty; tall, not corpulent, and of an air, which might have announced the French courtier, if his rank had been unknown. A ſtar was embroidered upon his military ſurtout, but he had no guards, though travelling within the juriſdiction allotted to him as a general officer. So little was the road frequented at this period, that his was the ſecond or third car⯑riage we had met, except military waggons, ſince leaving Mentz; a diſtance of more than eighty Engliſh miles.

The road for the whole ſtage between Carlſruhe and Raſtadt, about fifteen miles, is planted, as ſeems cuſtomary in Germany between the palaces of ſovereigns, with lofty trees, of which the ſhade was extremely refreſhing at this ſeaſon; the clouds of ſand, that roſe from the road, would otherwiſe have made the heat intole⯑rable.

The firſt houſe in Raſtadt is the palace of the Margrave of Baden [265] Baden, brother of the Margrave of Baden Durlach, whoſe reſidence is at Carlſruhe, a ſmall and heavy building, that fronts the avenue, and is ſurrounded with ſtone walls. The interior is ſaid to be ſplen⯑didly decorated, and a chamber is preſerved in the ſtate, in which Prince Eugene and Marſhal Villars left it in 1714, after concluding the peace between the Emperor and Louis the Fourteenth. The Prince of Baden, being then a general in the ſervice of the Emperor, had not been able to eſcape the vengeance of Louis, whoſe troops in 1688 firſt plundered, and then burnt, the palace and city, and in the war of the Succeſſion they had a camp on the adjoining plain. The Prince is therefore ſuppoſed to have lent the palace, which he had rebuilt, with the more readineſs, that the Marſhal might ſee how perfectly he could overcome his loſs. The plunder of the city in 1688 had continued for five days, and it is mentioned in its hiſtory that the French carried away fifteen waggon loads of wine of the vintage of 1572.

Raſtadt, like Carlſruhe, is built upon one plan, but is as inferior to it in beauty, as in ſize. The chief ſtreet is, however, uncom⯑monly broad, ſo much ſo, that the upper end is uſed as a market⯑place, and the ſtatue of the founder, Prince Louis, in the centre, is ſeen with all the advantages of ſpace and perſpective. There is, not⯑withſtanding, little appearance of traffic, and the inhabitants ſeemed to be much leſs numerous than the emigrant corps, which was then ſtationed there, the head quarters of the Prince of Condé being eſta⯑bliſhed in the city. We paſſed an hour at an inn, which was nearly [266] filled by part of this corps, and were compelled to witneſs the diſ⯑treſs and diſappointment, excited by intelligence juſt then received of the ſtate of affairs in the Low Countries.

A ſmall park of artillery was kept on the ſouthern ſide of Raſtadt, where there is a handſome ſtone bridge over the river Murg, that falls into the Rhine, at the diſtance of a league from the city. Soon after, the road paſſes by the groves of the Favorita, a ſummer palace built by a dowager Margravine. We now drew nearer to the mountains of the Bergſtraſſe, which had diſappeared near Schwezingen, and had riſen again partially through the morn⯑ing miſts, ſoon after our quitting Carlſruhe. They are here of more awful height, and abrupt ſteepneſs than in the neighbourhood of Manheim, and, on their pointed brows, are frequently the ruins of caſtles, placed ſometimes where it ſeems as if no human foot could climb. The nearer we approached theſe mountains the more we had occaſion to admire the various tints of their granites. Sometimes the precipices were of a faint pink, then of a deep red, a dull purple, or a bluſh approaching to lilac, and ſometimes gleams of a pale yel⯑low mingled with the low ſhrubs, that grew upon their ſides. The day was cloudleſs and bright, and we were too near theſe heights to be deceived by the illuſions of aerial colouring; the real hues of their features were as beautiful, as their magnitude was ſublime. The plains, that extend along their feet to the Rhine, are richly cultivated with corn, and, beyond the river, others, which appear to be equally fruitful, ſpread towards the mountains of Alſace, [267] a correſponding chain with the Bergſtraſſe, vaſt and now blue with diſtance.

The manners of the people from Manheim downwards, are more civilized than in the upper parts of Germany; an improvement, which may with great probability be imputed to the ſuperior fruitfulneſs of the country, that amends their condition, and with it the ſocial qualities. The farms are more numerous, the labourers leſs dejected, and the women, who ſtill work barefooted in the fields, have ſome⯑what of a ruddy brown in their complexion, inſtead of the ſallow⯑neſs, that renders the ferocious, or ſullen air of the others more ſtrik⯑ing. They are alſo better dreſſed; for, though they retain the ſlouched woollen hat, they have caps; and towards the borders of Switzerland their appearance becomes pictureſque. Here they frequently wear a blue petticoat with a cherry-coloured boddice, full white ſleeves faſtened above the elbow, and a muſlin handkerchief thrown grace⯑fully round the neck in a ſort of roll; the hair ſometimes platted round the head, and held on the crown with a large bodkin. On holidays, the girls have often a flat ſtraw hat, with bows of ribband hanging behind. Higher up, the women wear their long black hair platted, but falling in a queue down the back.

The cottages are alſo ſomewhat better, and the ſides entirely covered with vines, on which, in the beginning of July, were grapes bigger than capers, and in immenſe quantities. Sometimes Turkey corn is put to dry under the projections of the firſt floor, and the gardens are ornamented with a ſhort alley of hops. Meat is [268] however bad and ſcarce; the appearance ſo diſguſting before it is dreſſed, that thoſe, who can accommodate their palates to the cook⯑ing, muſt endeavour to forget what they have ſeen. Butter is ſtill more ſcarce, and the little cheeſe that appears, is only a new white curd, made up in rolls, ſcarcely bigger than an egg. A ſort of beer is here made for ſervants, the taſte of which affords no ſymptom of either malt or hops; it is often nearly white, and appears to have been brewed but a few hours; what is ſomewhat browner is bottled, and ſold at about three-pence a quart.

Our road, this day, was feldom more than two leagues diſtant from the Rhine, and we expected to have heard the fire, which the Auſtrian and French poſts, who have their batteries on the two banks of the river, frequently exchange with each other. The tran⯑quillity was, however, as ſound as in any other country, and nothing but the continuance of patroles and convoys reminded us of our nearneſs to the war. The peaſants were as leiſurely cutting their harveſt, and all the other buſineſs of rural life was proceeding as uninterruptedly, as if there was no poſſibility of an attack. Yet we afterwards learned, that the French had, very early on the morning of this day, ineffectually attempted the paſſage of the Rhine, about fifteen miles higher up; and the firing had been diſtinctly heard at a little village where we dined.

One road, as ſhort as this, lies immediately upon the margin of the river; and, as we were aſſured that none but military parties were fired at, we wiſhed to paſs it, for the purpoſe of obſerving the inge⯑nious [269] methods, by which a country ſo circumſtanced is defended; but our poſtillion, who dreaded, that he might be preſſed by the Auſtrians, for the intruſion, refuſed to venture upon it, and, inſtead of proceeding to Kehl, which is directly oppoſite to Straſbourg, we took the road for Offenburg, about three leagues from the Rhine.

The country through which our route now lay, better as it is than more northern parts, has ſuffered ſome poſitive injuries by the war. Before this, all the little towns, from Carlſruhe downwards, main⯑tained ſome commerce with France, on their own account, and ſup⯑plied carriage for that of others. In return for proviſions and coarſe commodities for manufacture, carried to Straſbourg, they received the ſilks and woollens of France, to be diſperſed at Franckfort, or Manheim. The intercourſe between the two countries was ſo fre⯑quent, that nearly all the tradeſmen, and many of the labouring per⯑ſons in this part of Germany ſpeak a little French. The landlord of the houſe, where we dined, aſſured us that, though his village was ſo ſmall, he had ſufficient buſineſs before the war; now he was upon the point of removing to Offenburg, being unable to pay his rent, during the interruption of travelling.

A little before ſun-ſet, we came to Appenweyer, one of theſe towns, from the entrance of which the ſpires of Straſbourg were ſo plainly viſible that we could ſee the fanes glittering againſt the light, and even the forms of the fortifications near the water could be traced. In the midſt of the ſtraggling town of Appenweyer the loud ſounds of martial muſic and then the appearance of troops, entering [270] at the oppoſite end, ſurpriſed us. This was the advanced guard of ſeveral Auſtrian regiments, on their march to re-inforce the allied army in the Low Countries. Our poſtillion had drawn up, to ſur⯑render as much of the road as poſſible to them, but their march was ſo irregular, that they frequently thronged round the carriage; affording us ſufficient opportunity to obſerve how far their air correſponded with what has been ſo often ſaid of the Auſtrian ſoldiery.

Except as to their dreſs and arms, their appearance is not military, according to any notion, which an Engliſhman is likely to have formed; that is, there is nothing of activity, nothing of ſpirit, of cheerfulneſs, of the correctneſs of diſcipline, or of the eagerneſs of the youthful in it. There is much of ferocity, much of timid cruelty, of ſullenneſs, indolence and awkwardneſs. They dreſs up their faces with muſtachios, and ſeem extremely deſirous to impreſs terror. How far this may be effectual againſt other troops we cannot know; but they certainly are, by their ferocious manners, and by the traits, which a nearer view of them diſcloſes, very terrible to the peaceful traveller. Though now immediately under the eyes of their officers they could ſcarcely refrain from petty inſults, and from wiſhfully laying their hands upon our baggage.

About a thouſand men paſſed in two diviſions, which had com⯑menced their march a few hours before, for the purpoſe of avoid⯑ing the heat of the day. As we proceeded, the trodden corn in the ſields ſhewed where they had reſted.

It was night before we reached Offenburg, where we were com⯑pelled [271] to lodge at a wretched inn called the Poſt-houſe, the maſter of the other having that day removed to admit a new tenant; but the condition of the lodging was of little importance, for, all night, the heavy trampling of feet along the road below prevented ſleep, and with the firſt dawn the ſound of martial muſic drew us to the win⯑dows. It ſeemed like a dream, when the Auſtrian bands played ça ira, with double drums, and cymbals thrown almoſt up to our caſements, louder than any we had ever heard before. This was the main body of the army, of which we had met the advanced party. Each regiment was followed by a long train of baggage carriages, of various and curious deſcriptions, ſome of the cabriolets having a woman nearly in man's apparel in the front, and behind, a large baſket higher than the carriage, filled with hay. This ‘"tide of human exiſtence"’ continued to paſs for ſeveral hours. But the whole army did not conſiſt of more than three regiments of infantry, among which were thoſe of D'Arcy, and Pellegrini, and one of horſe; for each of the Auſtrian regiments of foot contains, when complete, two thouſand three hundred men. They had with them a ſmall train of artillery, and were to proceed to the Low Countries as quick as they could march; but, ſo uniform are the expedients of the councils of Vienna, that the opportunity of carrying theſe troops down the Rhine in barges from Phillipſburg, where it was prac⯑ticable, was not adopted, though this method would have ſaved two weeks out of three, and have landed the army unfatigued at its poſt.

[272] All their regimentals were white, faced either with light blue, or pompadour, and ſeemed unſuitably delicate for figures ſo large and heavy. The cavalry were loaded with many articles of baggage, but their horſes appeared to be of the ſtrongeſt and moſt ſerviceable kind. This was a grand military ſhow, which it was impoſſible to ſee without many reflections on human nature and human miſery.

Offenburg is a ſmall town, in the Margraviate of Baden Baden, pleaſantly ſeated at the feet of the Bergſtraſſe, which the road again approaches ſo near as to be ſomewhat obſtructed by its acclivities. Our way lay along the baſe of theſe ſteeps, during the whole day; and as we drew nearer to Switzerland, their height became ſtill more ſtupendous, and the mountains of Alſace ſeemed advancing to meet them in the long perſpective; the plains between, through which the Rhine gleamed in long ſweeps, appeared to be entirely covered with corn, and in the nearer ſcene joyous groups were loading the waggons with the harveſt. An harveſt of another kind was ripen⯑ing among the lower rocks of the Bergſtraſſe, where the light green of the vines enlivened every cliff, and ſometimes overſpread the ruinous walls of what had once been fortreſſes.

We paſſed many villages, ſhaded with noble trees, which had more appearance of comfort than any we had ſeen, and which were enviable for the pleaſantneſs of their ſituation; their ſpacious ſtreet generally opening to the grandeur of the mountain viſta, that extend⯑ed to the ſouth. In theſe landſcapes the peaſant girl, in the ſimple [273] dreſs of the country, and balancing on her large ſtraw hat an har⯑veſt keg, was a very pictureſque figure.

It was evening when we came within view of Friburg, the laſt city of Germany on the borders of Switzerland, and found ourſelves among mountains, which partook of the immenſity and ſublimity of thoſe of that enchanting country. But what was our emotion, when, from an eminence, we diſcovered the pointed ſummits of what we believed to be the Swiſs mountains themſelves, a multitudi⯑nous aſſemblage rolled in the far-diſtant proſpect! This glimpſe of a country of all others in Europe the moſt aſtoniſhing and grand, awakened a thouſand intereſting recollections and delightful expecta⯑tions; while we watched with regret even this partial viſion vaniſh⯑ing from our eyes as we deſcended towards Friburg. The moun⯑tains, that encompaſs this city, have ſo much the character of the great, that we immediately recollect the line of ſeparation between Germany and Switzerland to be merely artificial, not marked even by a river. Yet while we yield to the awful pleaſure which this eternal vaſtneſs inſpires, we feel the inſignificance of our temporary nature, and, ſeeming more than ever conſcious by what a ſlender ſyſ⯑tem our exiſtence is upheld, ſomewhat of dejection and anxiety min⯑gle with our admiration.

FRIBURG

IS an ancient Imperial city and the capital of the Briſgau. Its name alludes to the privileges granted to ſuch cities; but its pre⯑ſent condition, like that of many others, is a proof of the virtual diſcontinuance of the rights, by which the Sovereign intended to in⯑vite to one part of his dominions the advantages of commerce. Its appearance is that, which we have ſo often deſcribed; better than Cologne, and worſe than Mentz; its ſize is about a third part of the latter city. On deſcending to it, the firſt diſtinct object is the ſpire of the great church, a remarkable ſtructure, the ſtones of which are laid with open interſtices, ſo that the light appears through its taper⯑ing ſides. Of this ſort of ſtone fillagree work there are ſaid to be other ſpecimens in Germany. The city was once ſtrongly fortified, and has endured ſome celebrated ſieges. In 1677, 1713, and 1745 is was taken by the French, who, in the latter year, deſtroyed all the fortifications, which had rendered it formidable, and left nothing but the preſent walls.

Being, however, a frontier place towards Switzerland, it is pro⯑vided with a ſmall Auſtrian garriſon; and the buſineſs of permitting, or preventing the paſſage of travellers into that country is entruſted to its officers. The malignity, or ignorance of one of theſe, called the Lieutenant de Place, prevented us from reaching it, after a jour⯑ney [275] of more than ſix hundred miles; a diſappointment, which no perſon could bear without ſevere regret, but which was alloyed to us by the reports we daily heard of ſome approaching change in Switzerland unfavourable to England, and by a conſciouſneſs of the deduction which, in ſpite of all endeavours at abſtraction, encroach⯑ments upon phyſical comfort and upon the aſſurance of peacefulneſs make from the diſpoſition to enquiry, or fancy.

We had delivered at the gate the German paſſport, recommended to us by M. de Schwartzkoff, and which had been ſigned by the Commandant at Mentz; the man, who took it, promiſing to bring it properly atteſted to our inn. He returned without the paſſport, and, as we afterwards found, carried our voiturier to be examined by an officer. We endeavoured in vain to obtain an explanation, as to this delay and appearance of ſuſpicion, till, at ſupper, the Lieutenant de Place announced himſelf, and preſently ſhewed, that he was not come to offer apologies. This man, an illiterate Piedmonteſe in the Auſtrian ſervice, either believed, or affected to do ſo, that our name was not Radcliffe, but ſomething like it, with a German termina⯑tion, and that we were not Engliſh, but Germans. Neither my Lord Grenville's, or M. de Schwartzkoff's paſſports, our letters from London to families in Switzerland, nor one of credit from the Meſſrs. Hopes of Amſterdam to the Banking-houſe of Porta at Lauſanne, all of which he pretended to examine, could remove this diſcerning ſuſpicion as to our country. While we were conſidering, as much as vexation would permit, what circumſtance could have afforded a pretext for any part of this intruſion, it came out inci⯑dentally, [276] that the confirmation given to our paſſport at Mentz, which we had never examined, expreſſed ‘"returning to England,"’ though the paſs itſelf was for Baſil, to which place we were upon our route.

Such a contradiction might certainly have juſtified ſome delay, if we had not been enabled to prove it accidental to the ſatisfaction of any perſon deſirous of being right. The paſſport had been produced at Mentz, together with thoſe of two Engliſh artiſts, then on their return from Rome, whom we had the pleaſure to ſee at Franckfort. The Secretary inſcribed all the paſſports alike for England, and M. de Lucadou, the Commandant, haſtily ſigned ours, without obſerving the miſtake, though he ſo well knew us to be upon the road to Switzer⯑land, that he politely endeavoured to render us ſome ſervice there. Our friends in Mentz being known to him, he deſired us to accept an addreſs from himſelf to M. de Wilde, Intendant of ſalt mines near Bec. We produced to Mr. Lieutenant this addreſs, as a proof, that the Commandant both knew us, and where we were going; but it ſoon appeared, that, though the former might have honeſtly fallen into his ſuſpicions at firſt, he had a malignant obſtinacy in refuſing to abandon them. He left us, with notice that we could not quit the town without receiving the Commandant's permiſſion by his means; and it was with ſome terror, that we perceived ourſelves to be ſo much in his power, in a place where there was a pretext for military authority, and where the leaſt expreſſion of juſt indignation ſeemed to provoke a diſpoſition for further injuſtice.

The only relief, which could be hinted to us, was to write to the Commandant at Mentz, who might re-teſtify his knowledge of our [277] deſtination; yet, as an anſwer could not be received in leſs than eight days, and, as imagination ſuggeſted not only all the poſſible horrors of oppreſſion, during that period, but all the contrivances, by which the malignant diſpoſition we had already experienced, might even then be prevented from diſappointment, we looked upon this reſource as little better than the worſt, and reſolved in the morning to demand leave for an immediate return to Mentz.

There being then ſome witneſſes to the application, the Lieutenant conducted himſelf with more propriety, and even propoſed an intro⯑duction to the Commandant, to whom we could not before hear of any direct means of acceſs; there being a poſſibility, he ſaid, that a paſſage into Switzerland might be permitted. But the diſguſt of Auſtrian authority was now ſo complete, that we were not diſpoſed to riſk the mockery of an appeal. The Lieutenant expreſſed his readineſs to allow our paſſage, if we ſhould chooſe to return from Mentz with another paſſport; but we had no intention to be ever again in his power, and, aſſuring him that we ſhould not return, left Friburg without the hope of penetrating through the experienced, and preſent difficulties of Germany, into the far-ſeen delights of Switzerland.

As thoſe, who leave one home for another, think, in the firſt part of their journey, of the friends they have left, and, in the laſt, of thoſe, to whom they are going; ſo we, in quitting the borders of Switzerland, thought only of that country; and, when we regained the eminence from whence the tops of its mountains had been ſo lately viewed with enthuſiaſtic hope, all this delightful expectation [278] occurred again to the mind, only to torture it with the certainty of our loſs; but, as the diſtance from Switzerland increaſed, the attrac⯑tions of home gathered ſtrength, and the inconveniences of Ger⯑many, which had been ſo readily felt before, could ſcarcely be no⯑ticed when we knew them to lie in the road to England.

We paſſed Offenburg, on the firſt day of our return, and, travel⯑ling till midnight, as is cuſtomary in Germany during the ſummer, traverſed the unuſual ſpace of fifty miles in fourteen hours. Soon after paſſing Appenweyer we overtook the rear-guard of the army, the advanced party of which we had met at that place three nights before. The troops were then quartered in the villages near the road, and their narrow waggons were ſometimes drawn up on both ſides of it. They had probably but lately ſeparated, for there were parties of French ladies and gentlemen, who ſeemed to have taken the benefit of moonlight to be ſpectators, and ſome of the glow-worms, that had been numerous on the banks, now glittered very prettily in the hair of the former.

At Biel, a ſmall town, which we reached about midnight, the ſtreet was rendered nearly impaſſable by military carriages, and we were ſurpriſed to find, that every room in the inn was not occupied by troops; but one muſt have been very faſtidious to have complained of any part of our reception here. As to lodging, though the apart⯑ment was as bare as is uſual in Germany, there was the inſcription of ‘"Chambre de Monſieur"’ over the door, and on another near it ‘"Chambre de Condé le Grand;"’ perſonages, who, it appeared, had once been accommodated there, for the honour of which the land⯑lord [279] choſe to retain their inſcriptions. Their meeting here was pro⯑bably in 1791, ſoon after the departure of the former from France.

The ſecond day's journey brought us again to Schwetzingen, from whence we hoped to have reached Manheim, that night; but the poſt horſes were all out, and none others could be hired, the village being obliged to furniſh a certain number for the carriage of ſtores to the Auſtrian army. Eighteen of theſe we had met, an hour be⯑fore, drawing ſlowly in one waggon, laden with cannon balls. We ſtayed the following day at Manheim, and, on the next, reached Mentz, where our ſtatement of the obſtruction at Friburg excited leſs ſurpriſe than indignation, the want of agreement between the Auſtrian and Pruſſian officers being ſuch, that the former, who are frequently perſons of the loweſt education, are ſaid to neglect no opportunity of preying upon accidental miſtakes in paſſports, or other buſineſs, committed by the Pruſſians. Before our departure we were, however, aſſured, that a proper repreſentation of the affair had been ſent by the firſt eſtaffette to the Commandant at Friburg.

Further intelligence of the courſe of affairs in Flanders was now made known in Germany; and our regrets, relative to Switzerland, were leſſened by the apparent probability, that a return homeward might in a few months be rendered difficult by ſome ſtill more un⯑fortunate events to the allies. Several effects of the late reverſes and ſymptoms of the general alarm were indeed already apparent at Mentz. Our inn was filled with refugees not only from Flanders, but from Liege, which the French had not then threatened. Some of the emigrants of the latter nation, in quitting the places where they [280] had temporarily ſettled, abandoned their only means of livelihood, and ſeveral parties arrived in a ſtate almoſt too diſtreſsful to be repeated. Ladies and children, who had paſſed the night in fields, came with ſo little property, and ſo little appearance of any, that they were refuſed admittance at many inns; for ſome others, it ſeemed, after reſting a day or two, could offer only tears and lamentations, inſtead of payment. Our good landlord, Philip Bolz, relieved ſeveral, and others had a little charity from individuals; but, as far as we ſaw and heard, the Germans very ſeldom afforded them even the con⯑ſolations of compaſſion and tender manners.

Mentz is the uſual place of embarkment for a voyage down the Rhine, the celebrated ſcenery of whoſe banks we determined to view, as ſome compenſation for the loſs of Switzerland. We were alſo glad to eſcape a repetition of the fatigues of travel by land, now that theſe were to be attended with the uncertainties occaſioned by any unuſual influx of travellers upon the roads.

The buſineſs of ſupplying poſt-horſes is here not the private undertaking of the innkeepers; ſo that the emulation and civility, which might be excited by their views of profit, are entirely wanting. The Prince de la Tour Taxis is the Hereditary Grand Poſt-maſter of the Empire, an office, which has raiſed his family from the ſtation of private Counts, to a ſeat in the College of Princes. He has a mono⯑poly of the profits ariſing from this concern, for which he is obliged to forward all the Imperial packets gratis. A ſettled number of horſes and a poſt-maſter are kept at every ſtage; where the arms of the Prince, and ſome line entreating a bleſſing upon the poſt, diſtin⯑guiſh [281] the door of his office. The poſtmaſter determines, according to the number of travellers and the quantity of baggage, how many horſes muſt be hired; three perſons cannot be allowed to proceed with leſs than three horſes, and he will generally endeavour to ſend out as many horſes as there are perſons.

The price for each horſe was eſtabliſhed at one florin, or twenty pence per poſt, but, on account of the war, a florin and an half is now paid; half a florin is alſo due for the carriage; and the poſtil⯑lion is entitled to a trinkgeld, or drink-money, of another half flo⯑rin; but, unleſs he is promiſed more than this at the beginning of the ſtage, he will proceed only at the regulated pace of four hours for each poſt, which may be reckoned at ten or twelve Engliſh miles. We ſoon learned the way of quickening him, and, in the Palatinate and the Briſgau, where the roads are good, could proceed nearly as faſt as we wiſhed, amounting to about five miles an hour.

If the poſtmaſter ſupplies a carriage, he demands half a florin per ſtage for it; but the whole expence of a chaiſe and two horſes, includ⯑ing the tolls and the trinkgeld, which word the poſtillions accommo⯑date to Engliſh ears by pronouncing it drinkhealth, does not exceed eight pence per mile. We are, however, to caution all perſons againſt ſuppoſing, as we did, that the chaiſes of the poſt muſt be pro⯑per ones, and that the neceſſity of buying a carriage, which may be urged to them, is merely that of ſhew; theſe chaiſes are more incon⯑venient and filthy, than any travelling carriage, ſeen in England, can give an idea of, and a ſtranger ſhould not enter Germany, before he [282] has purchaſed a carriage, which will probably coſt twenty pounds in Holland and ſell for fifteen, at his return. Having neglected this, we eſcaped from the chaiſes de poſte as often as poſſible, by hiring thoſe of voituriers, whoſe price is about half as much again as that of the poſt.

The regular drivers wear a ſort of uniform, conſiſting of a yellow coat, with black cuffs and cape, a ſmall bugle horn, ſlung over the ſhoulders, and a yellow ſaſh. At the entrance of towns and narrow paſſes, they ſometimes ſound the horn, playing upon it a perfect and not unpleaſant tune, the muſic of their order. All other carriages give way to theirs, and perſons travelling with them are conſidered to be under the protection of the Empire; ſo that, if they were rob⯑bed, information would be forwarded from one poſt-houſe to another throughout all Germany, and it would become a common cauſe to detect the aggreſſors. On this account, and becauſe there can be no concealment in a country ſo little populous, highway robberies are almoſt unknown in it, and the fear of them is never men⯑tioned. The Germans, who, in ſummer, travel chiefly by night, are ſeldom armed, and are ſo far from thinking even watchfulneſs neceſ⯑ſary, that moſt of their carriages, though open in front, during the day-time, are contrived with curtains and benches, in order to pro⯑mote reſt. The poſt-maſters alſo aſſure you, that, if there were rob⯑bers, they would content themſelves with attacking private voituriers, without violating the ſacredneſs of the poſt; and the ſecurity of the poſtillions is ſo ſtrictly attended to, that no man dare ſtrike them, [283] while they have the yellow coat on. In diſputes with their paſſen⯑gers they have, therefore, ſometimes been known to put off this coat, in order to ſhew, that they do not claim the extraordinary protection of the laws.

Theſe poſtillions acknowledge no obligation to travellers, who uſual⯑ly give double what can be demanded, and ſeem to conſider them only as ſo many bales of goods, which they are under a contract with the poſtmaſter to deliver at a certain place and within a certain time. Knowing, that their ſlowneſs, if there is no addition to their trinkgeld, is of itſelf ſufficient to compel ſome gratuity, they do not depart from the German luxury of incivility, and frequently return no anſwer, when they are queſtioned, as to diſtance, or deſired to call the ſervant of an inn, or to quit the worſt part of a road. When you tell them, that they ſhall have a good drinkhealth for ſpeed, they reply, ‘"Yaw, yaw;"’ and, after that, think it unneceſſary to reply to any enquiry till they aſk you for the money at the end of a ſtage. They are all pro⯑vided with tobacco boxes and combuſtible bark, on which they ſtop to ſtrike with a ſlint and ſteel, immediately after leaving their town; in the hotteſt day and on the moſt duſty road, they will begin to ſmoke, though every whiff flies into the faces of the paſſengers behind; and it muſt be ſome very poſitive interference, that prevents them from continuing it.

As long as there are horſes not engaged at any poſt-houſe, the people are bound to ſupply travellers, within half an hour after their arrival; but all the German Princes and many of their Miniſters are [284] permitted to engage the whole ſtock on the road they intend to paſs; and it frequently happens, that individuals may be detained a day, or even two, by ſuch an order, if there ſhould be no voiturier to furniſh them with others. At Cologne and Bonn, when we were firſt there, all the horſes were ordered for the Emperor, who paſſed through, however, with only one carriage, accompanied by an Aide-de-camp and followed by two ſervants, on horſeback. It happens alſo fre⯑quently, that a ſudden throng of private travellers has employed the whole ſtock of the poſt-maſters; and the preſent emigrations from Liege and Juliers, we were aſſured, had filled the roads ſo much, that we might be frequently detained in ſmall towns, and ſhould find even the beſt overwhelmed with crowds of fugitives.

During a ſtay of five days at Mentz, we often wandered amidſt the ruins of the late ſiege, eſpecially on the ſite of the Favorita, from whence the majeſtic Rhine is ſeen rolling from one chain of mountains to another. Near this ſpot, and not leſs fortunately ſitu⯑ated, ſtood a Carthuſian convent, known in Engliſh hiſtory for having been the head-quarters of George the Second, in the year 1743, ſoon after the battle of Dettingen. The apartments, uſed by this monarch, were preſerved in the ſtate, in which he left them, till a ſhort time before the late ſiege, when the whole building was demoliſhed, ſo that ſcarcely a trace of it now remains.

By our enquiries for a paſſage veſſel we diſcovered the unpleaſant truth, that the dread of another invaſion began now to be felt at Mentz, where, a fortnight before, not a ſymptom of it was diſ⯑cernible. [285] Several of the inhabitants had hired boats to be in readi⯑neſs for tranſporting their effects to Franckfort, if the French ſhould approach much nearer to the Rhine; and our friends, when we mentioned the circumſtance, confeſſed, that they were preparing for a removal to Saxony. The ſtate of the arſenal had been lately enquired into, and a deficiency, which was whiſpered to have been diſcovered in the gunpowder, was imputed to the want of cordiality between the Auſtrians and Pruſſians, of whom the latter, being uncertain that they ſhould ſtay in the place, had refuſed to repleniſh the ſtores, at their own expence, and the former would not ſpare their ammunition, till the departure of the Pruſſians ſhould leave it to be guarded by themſelves. The communication with the other ſhore of the Rhine, by the bridge and the fortifications of Caſſel, ſecured, however, to a German garriſon the opportunity of receiving ſupplies, even if the French ſhould occupy all the weſtern bank of the river.

VOYAGE DOWN THE RHINE.

THE boats, to be hired at Mentz, are awkward imita⯑tions of the Dutch trechtſchuyts, or what, upon the Thames, would be called Houſe-boats; but, for the ſake of being allowed to diſ⯑poſe of one as the varieties of the voyage ſhould ſeem to tempt, we gave four louis for the uſe of a cabin, between Mentz and Cologne; the boatmen being permitted to take paſſengers in the other part of the veſſel. In this we embarked at ſix o'clock, on a delightful morning in the latter end of July, and, as we left the ſhore, had leiſure to obſerve the city in a new point of view, the moſt pictureſque we had ſeen. Its principal features were the high quays called the Rheinſtraſſe, the caſtellated palace, with its gothic turrets, of pale red ſtone, the arſenal, the lofty ramparts, far extended along the river, and the northern gate; the long bridge of boats completed the fore-ground, and ſome foreſt hills the picture.

We ſoon paſſed the wooded iſland, called Peters-au, of ſo much conſequence, during the ſiege, for its command of the bridge; and, approaching the mountains of the Rheingau to the north, the moſt ſublime in this horizon, ſaw their ſummits veiled in clouds, while the ſun ſoon melted the miſts, that dimmed their lower ſides, and brought out their various colouring of wood, corn and ſoils. It was, how⯑ever, nearly two hours before the windings of the Rhine per⯑mitted [287] us to reach any of their baſes. Meanwhile the river flowed through highly cultivated plains, chiefly of corn, with villages thickly ſcattered on its banks, in which are the country houſes of the richer inhabitants of Mentz, among pleaſant orchards and vineyards. Thoſe on the right bank are in the dominions of the Prince of Naſſau Uſingen, who has a large chateau in the midſt of them, once tenanted, for a night, by George the Second, and the Duke of Cumberland.

The Rhine is here, and for ſeveral leagues downward, of a very noble breadth, perhaps wider than in any other part of its Ger⯑man courſe; and its ſurface is animated by many iſlands covered with poplars and low wood. The weſtern ſhore, often fringed with pine and elms, is flat; but the eaſtern begins to ſwell into hillocks near Wallauf, the laſt village of Naſſau Uſingen, and once ſomewhat fortified.

Here the Rheingau, or the country of the vines, commences, and we approached the northern mountains, which riſe on the right in ſine ſweeping undulations. Theſe increaſed in dignity as we ad⯑vanced, and their ſummits then appeared to be darkened with heath and woods, which form part of the extenſive foreſt of Landeſwald, or Woodland. Hitherto the ſcenery had been open and pleaſant only, but now the eaſtern ſhore began to be romantic, ſtarting into heights, ſo abrupt, that the vineyards almoſt overhung the river, and opening to foreſt glens, among the mountains. Still, however, towns and villages perpetually occurred, and the banks of the river were populous, though not a veſſel beſides our own appeared upon it.

[288] On the eaſtern margin are two ſmall towns, Oder and Niederingel⯑heim, which, in the midſt of the dominions of Mentz, belong to the Elector Palatine. On this ſhore alſo is made one of the celebrated wines of the Rhine, called Markerbrunner, which ranks next to thoſe of Johanneſberg and Hockheim. At no great diſtance on the ſame ſhore, but beneath a bank ſomewhat more abrupt, is the former of theſe places, alienated in the ſixteenth century from the dominions of Mentz, to thoſe of the Abbot, now Prince Biſhop of Fulde.

The wine of the neighbouring ſteeps is the higheſt priced of all the numerous ſorts of Rheniſh; a bottle ſelling upon the ſpot, where it is leaſt likely to be pure, for three, four, or five ſhillings, according to the vintages, the merits and diſtinctions of which are in the memory of almoſt every German. That of 1786 was the moſt celebrated ſince 1779; but we continually heard that the heat of 1794 would render this year equal in fame to any of the others.

Behind the village is the large and well-built abbey of Johanneſ⯑berg, rich with all this produce, for the ſecurity of which there are immenſe cellars, cut in the rock below, ſaid to be capable of contain⯑ing ſeveral thouſand tons of wine. The abbey was founded in 1105; and there is a long hiſtory of changes pertaining to it, till it came into the poſſeſſion of the Abbot of Fulde, who rebuilt it in its preſent ſtate. This part of the Rheingau is, indeed, thickly ſet with ſimilar ediſices, having, in a ſhort ſpace, the nunnery of Marienthal, and the mona⯑ſteries of Nothgottes, Aulenhauſen, and Eibingen.

Further on is the large modern chateau of Count Oſtein, a [289] nobleman of great wealth, and, as it appears, of not leſs taſte. Hav⯑ing diſpoſed all his nearer grounds in a ſtyle for the moſt part Engliſh, he has had recourſe to the ridge of precipices, that riſe over the river, for ſublimity and grandeur of proſpect. On the brink of theſe woody heights, ſeveral pavilions have been erected, from the moſt conſpicuous of which Coblentz, it is ſaid, may be diſtinguiſhed, at the diſtance of forty miles. The view muſt be aſtoniſhingly grand, for to the ſouth-eaſt the eye overlooks all the fine country of the Rheingau to Mentz; to the weſt, the courſe of the Moſelle towards. France; and, to the north, the chaos of wild mountains, that ſcreen the Rhine in its progreſs to Coblentz.

So general was the alarm of invaſion, that Count Oſtein had already withdrawn into the interior of Germany, and was endea⯑vouring to diſpoſe of this charming reſidence, partly protected as it is by the river, at the very diſadvantageous price now paid for eſtates on the weſtern frontier of the Empire.

The vineyards, that ſucceed, are proofs of the induſtry and ſkill to which the Germans are accuſtomed in this part of their labours, the ſeanty ſoil being prevented from falling down the almoſt perpendicu⯑lar rocks, by walls that frequently require ſome new toil from the careful farmer. Every addition, made to the mould, muſt be carried in baſkets up the ſteep paths, or rather ſtaircaſes, cut in the ſolid rock. At the time of the vintage, when theſe precipices are thronged with people, and the ſounds of merriment are echoed along them, the ſpectacle muſt here be as ſtriking and gay as can be painted by fancy.

BINGEN.

ABOUT eleven o'clock, we reached Bingen, a town of which the antiquity is ſo clear, that one of its gates is ſtill called Dru⯑ſithor, or, the gate of Druſus. Its appearance, however, is neither rendered venerable by age, or neat by novelty. The preſent build⯑ings were all raiſed in the diſtreſs and confuſion produced in 1689, after Louis the Fourteenth had blown up the fortifications, that endured a tedious ſiege in the beginning of the century, and had de⯑ſtroyed the city, in which Druſus is ſaid to have died.

It has now the appearance, which we have often mentioned is characteriſtic of moſt German towns, nearly every houſe being covered with ſymptoms of decay and neglect, and the ſtreets aban⯑doned to a few idle paſſengers. Yet Bingen has the advantage of ſtanding at the conflux of two rivers, the Nahe making there its junction with the Rhine; and an antient German book mentions it as the central place of an hundred villages, or chateaux, the inhabi⯑tants of which might come to its market and return between ſun-riſe and ſun-ſet.

Since the revolution in France, it has occaſionally been much the reſidence of emigrants; and, in a plain behind the town, which was pointed out to us, the King of Pruſſia reviewed their army before the entrance into France in 1792. A part of his ſpeech was re⯑peated [291] to us by a gentleman who bore a high commiſſion in it; ‘"Gentlemen, be tranquil and happy; in a little time I ſhall conduct you to your homes and your property."’

Our companion, as he remembered the hopes excited by this ſpeech, was deeply affected; an emigrant officer, of whom, as well as of an Ex-Nobleman of the ſame nation, with the latter of whom we parted here, we muſt pauſe to ſay, that had the old ſyſtem in France, oppreſſive as it was, and injurious as Engliſhmen were once juſtly taught to believe it, been univerſally adminiſtered by men of their mildneſs, integrity and benevolence, it could not have been entirely overthrown by all the theories, or all the eloquence in the world.

Soon after this review, the march commenced; the general effect of which it is unneceſſary to repeat. When the retreat was ordered, the emigrant army, compriſing ſeventy ſquadrons of cavalry, was declared by the King of Pruſſia to be diſbanded, and not any perſon was allowed to retain an horſe, or arms. No other purchaſers were preſent but the Pruſſians, and, in conſequence of this order, the ſineſt horſes, many of which had coſt forty louis each, were now ſold for four or five, ſome even for one! It reſulted accidentally, no doubt, from this meaſure, that the Pruſſian army was thus reprovided with horſes almoſt as cheaply as if they had ſeized them from Dumourier.

Bingen was taken by the French in the latter end of the cam⯑paign of 1792, and was then nearly the northernmoſt of their poſts on the Rhine. It was regained by the Pruſſians in their advances [292] to Mentz, at the commencement of the next campaign, and has ſince occaſionally ſerved them as a depôt of ſtores.

This town, ſeated on the low weſtern margin, ſurrounded with its old walls, and overtopped by its ruined caſtle, harmonizes well with the gloomy grandeur near it; and here the aſpect of the country changes to a character awfully wild. The Rhine, after expanding to a great breadth, at its conflux with the Nahe, ſuddenly contracts itſelf, and winds with an abrupt and rapid ſweep among the dark and tremendous rocks, that cloſe the perſpective. Then, diſappearing beyond them, it leaves the imagination to paint the dangers of its courſe. Near the entrance of this cloſe paſs, ſtands the town of Bin⯑gen, immediately oppoſite to which appear the ruins of the caſtle of Ehrenfels, on a cliff highly elevated above the water, broken, craggy and impending, but with vines crawling in narrow crevices, and other rocks ſtill aſpiring above it. On an iſland between theſe ſhores, is a third ruined caſtle, very antient, and of which little more than one tower remains. This is called Mauſthurm, or, The Tower of the Rats, from a marvellous tradition, that, in the tenth century, an Archbiſhop Statto was devoured there by theſe animals, after many cruelties to the poor, whom he called Rats, that eat the bread of the rich.

EHRENFELS.

EHRENFELS is ſynonymous to Majeſtic, or Noble Rock; and Fels, which is the preſent term for rock in all the northern coun⯑ties of England, as well as in Germany, is among ſeveral inſtances of exact ſimilarity, as there are many of reſemblance, between the pre⯑ſent Britiſh and German languages. A German of the ſouthern diſtricts, meaning to enquire what you would have, ſays, ‘"Was woll zu haben?"’ and in the north there is a ſort of Patois, called Plat Deutſche, which brings the words much nearer to our own. In both parts the accent, or rather tone, is that, which prevails in Scotland and the adjoining counties of England. To expreſs a temperate appro⯑bation of what they hear, the Germans ſay, ‘"So—ſo;"’ pronoun⯑cing the words ſlowly and long; exactly as our brethren of Scot⯑land would. In a printed narrative of the ſiege of Mentz there is this paſſage, ‘"Funfzehn hundert menſchen, meiſtens weiber und kin⯑der—wanderten mit dem bundel under dem arm uber die brucke;"’—Fifteen hundred perſons, moſtly wives and children, wan⯑dered, with their bundles under their arms, upon the bridge. So permanent has been the influence over our language, which the Saxons acquired by their eſtabliſhment of more than five centuries amongſt us; exiling the antient Britiſh tongue to the mountains of Scotland and Wales; and afterwards, when incorporated with this, [294] reſiſting the perſecution of the Normans; rather improving than yielding under their endeavours to extirpate it. The injuries of the Biſhop of Wincheſter, who, in Henry the Second's time, was de⯑prived of his ſee for being ‘"an Engliſh idcot, that could not ſpeak French,"’ one would fondly imagine had the effect due to all perſecu⯑tions, that of ſtrengthening, not ſubduing their objects.

After parting with ſome of the friends, who had accompanied us from Mentz, and taking in proviſion for the voyage, our oars were again plyed, and we approached Bingerloch, the commencement of that tremendous paſs of rocky mountains, which encloſe the Rhine nearly as far as Coblentz. Bingerloch is one of the moſt dangerous parts of the river; that, being here at once impelled by the waters of the Nahe, compreſſed by the projection of its boundaries, and irritated by hidden rocks in its current, makes an abrupt deſcent, frequently rendered further dangerous by whirlpools. Several Ger⯑man authors aſſert, that a part of the Rhine here takes a channel beneath its general bed, from which it does not iſſue, till it reaches St. Goar, a diſtance of probably twenty miles. The ſorce and rapi⯑dity of the ſtream, the aſpect of the dark disjointed cliffs, under which we paſſed, and the ſtrength of the wind, oppoſing our en⯑trance among their chaſms, and uniting with the ſounding force of the waters to baffle the dexterity of the boatmen, who ſtrug⯑gled hard to prevent the veſſel from being whirled round, were circumſtances of the true ſublime, inſpiring terror in ſome and admiration in a high degree.

[295] Reviewing this now, in the leiſure of recollection, theſe nervous lines of Thomſon appear to deſcribe much of the ſcene:

Having doubled the ſharp promontory, that alters the courſe of the river, we ſaw in perſpective ſometimes perpendicular rocks, and then mountains dark with dwarf-woods, ſhooting their precipices over the margin of the water; a boundary which, for many leagues, was not broken, on either margin, except where, by ſome ſlight receding, the rocks emboſomed villages, lying on the edge of the river, and once guarded them by the antient caſtles on their points. A ſtormy day, with frequent ſhowers, obſcured the ſcenery, making it appear dreary, without increaſing its gloomy grandeur; but we had leiſure to obſerve every venerable ruin, that ſeemed to tell the religious, or military hiſtory of the country. The firſt of theſe beyond Bingen, is the old caſtle of Bauzberg, and, next, the church of St. Clement, built in a place once greatly infeſted by robbers. There are then the [296] modern caſtle of Konigſtein, in which the French were beſieged in 1793, and the remains of the old one, deſerted for more than two hundred years. Oppoſite to theſe is the village of Aſſmans, or Haſemanſhauſen, celebrated for the flavour of its wines; and near them was formerly a warm bath, ſupplied by a ſpring, now loſt from its ſource to the Rhine, notwithſtanding many expenſive ſearches to regain it. About a mile farther, is the antient caſtle of Falkenburg, and below it the village of Drechſen; then the ruins of an extenſive chateau, called Sonneck, beneath which the Rhine expands, and encircles two ſmall iſlands, that conclude the diſtrict of the Rheingau.

After paſſing the ſmall town of Lorrich, on the eaſtern bank, the Rhine is again ſtraightened by rocky precipices, and rolls haſtily paſt the antient caſtle of Furſtenberg, which gives its name to one of the deareſt wines of the Rhine.

We now reached Bacharach, a town on the left bank of the river, ſorming part of the widely ſcattered dominions of the Elector Pala⯑tine, who has attended to its proſperity by permitting the Calviniſts and Lutherans to eſtabliſh their forms of worſhip there, under equal privileges with the Roman Catholics.

It has a conſiderable commerce in Rheniſh wine; and its toll⯑houſe, near which all veſſels are compelled to ſtop, adds conſiderably to the revenues of the Palatinate. For the purpoſe of enforcing theſe, the antient caſtle called Stahleck, founded in 1190, was probably built; for Bacharach is the oldeſt town of the Palatinate, and has [297] ſcarcely any hiſtory between the period when it was annexed to that dominion and the departure of the Romans, who are ſuppoſed to have given it the name of Bacchi ara, and to have performed ſome ceremonies to that deity upon a ſtone, ſaid to be ſtill concealed in the Rhine. In the year 1654, 1695, 1719, and 1750, when the river was remarkably low, this ſtone is recorded to have been ſeen near the oppoſite iſland of Worth, and the country people have given it the name of the Aelterſtein. As this extreme lowneſs of the waters never happens but in the hotteſt years, the ſight of the Aelterſtein is earneſtly deſired, as the ſymptom of a proſperous vintage. The river was unuſually low when we paſſed the iſland, but we looked in vain for this ſtone, which is ſaid to be ſo large, that five-and-twenty perſons may ſtand upon its ſurface.

Bacharach is in the liſt of places, ruined by Louis the Fourteenth in 1689. The whole town was then ſo carefully and methodically plundered that the French commander, during the laſt night of his ſtay, had nothing to ſleep on but ſtraw; and, the next day, this bedding was employed in aſſiſting to ſet fire to the town, which was preſently reduced to aſhes.

PFALTZ.

ABOUT a mile lower is the iſland of Pfaltz, or Pfalz⯑grafenſtein, a place of ſuch antient importance in the hiſtory of the Palatinate, that it has given its name to the whole territory in Ger⯑many called Pfaltz. It was probably the firſt reſidence of the Counts, the peaceable poſſeſſion of which was one means of atteſting the right to the Palatinate; for, as a ſign of ſuch poſſeſſion, it was antiently neceſſary, that the heir apparent ſhould be born in a caſtle, which ſtill ſubſiſts in a repaired ſtate upon it. This melancholy fortreſs is now provided with a garriſon of invalids, who are chiefly employed in guarding ſtate priſoners, and in giving notice to the neighbouring toll-houſe of Kaub, of the approach of veſſels on the Rhine. Being much ſmaller than is ſuitable to the value placed upon it, it is ſecured from ſurpriſe by having no entrance, except by a ladder, which is drawn up at night.

KAUB.

KAUB, a Palatine town on the right bank of the river, is alſo fortified, and claims a toll upon the Rhine, notwithſtanding its neighbourhood to Bacharach; an oppreſſion, of which the expence is almoſt the leaſt inconvenience, for the toll-gatherers do not come to the boats, but demand, that each ſhould ſtop, while one at leaſt of the crew goes on ſhore, and tells the num⯑ber of his paſſengers, who are alſo ſometimes required to ap⯑pear. The officers do not even think it neceſſary to wait at home for this information, and our boatmen had frequently to ſearch for them throughout the towns. So familiar, however, is this injuſtice, that it never appeared to excite ſurpriſe, or anger. The boatman dares not proceed till he has found and ſatisfied the officers; nor has he any means of compelling them to be punctual. Ours was aſtoniſhed when we enquired, whether the merchants, to whom ſuch delays might be important, could not have redreſs for them.

The ſtay we made at Kaub enabled us, however, to perceive that fine ſlate made a conſiderable part of its traffic.

The Rhine, at Bacharach and Kaub, is of great breadth; and the dark mountains, that aſcend from its margin, form a grand viſta, with antient chateaux ſtill appearing on the heights, and frequent villages edging the ſtream, or ſtudded among the cliffs.

[300] Though the diſtrict of the Rheingau, the vines of which are the moſt celebrated, terminated ſome miles paſt, the vineyards are ſcarcely leſs abundant here, covering the lower rocks of the mountains, and creeping along the fractures of their upper crags. Theſe, however, ſometimes exhibit huge projecting maſſes and walls of granite, ſo entire and perpendicular, that not an handful of ſoil can lodge for the nouriſhment of any plant. They lie in vaſt oblique ſtrata; and, as in the valley of Andernach, the angles of the promontories on one ſhore of the river frequently correſpond with the receſſes on the other.

OBERWESEL

IS another town, ſupported by the manufacture and trade of wines, which are, however, here ſhared by too many places to beſtow much wealth ſingly upon any. Wine is alſo ſo important a production, that all the Germans have ſome degree of connoiſſeurſhip in it, and can diſtinguiſh its quantities and value ſo readily, that the advantage of dealing in it cannot be great, except to thoſe, who ſup⯑ply foreign countries. The merits of the different vineyards form a frequent topic of converſation, and almoſt every perſon has his own ſcale of their rank; running over with familiar fluency the uncouth names of Johanneſberg, Ammanſhauſen, Hauptberg, Fuldiſche Schoſſ⯑berg, [301] Rudeſheim, Hockheim, Rodtland, Hinterhauſer, Marker⯑brunner, Grafenberg, Laubenheim, Biſcheim, Nierſtein, Harſ⯑cheim and Kapellgarren; all celebrated vineyards in the Rheingau. The growth and manufacture of theſe wines are treated of in many books, from one of which we tranſlate an account, that ſeems to be the moſt comprehenſive and ſimple.

OBERWESEL,

THE account of which has been interrupted by this digreſſion, is the firſt town of the Electorate of Treves, on this ſide, to which it has belonged ſince 1312, when its freedom as an imperial city, granted by the Emperor, Frederic the Second, was per⯑ſidiouſly ſeized by Henry the Seventh, and the town given to him by his brother Baldwin, the then Elector. The new Sovereign enriched it with a fine collegiate church, which ſtill dignifies the ſhore of the river. If he uſed any other endeavours to make the proſperity of the place ſurvive its liberties, they appear to have failed; for Ober⯑weſel now reſembles the other towns of the Electorate, except that the great number of towers and ſteeples tell what it was before its declenſion into that territory. The Town-houſe, rendered unneceſ⯑ſary by the power of Baldwin, does not exiſt to inſult the inhabi⯑tants [304] with the memory of its former uſe; but is in ruins, and thus ſerves for an emblem of the effects, produced by the change.

Between Oberweſel and St. Goar, the river is of extraordinary breadth, and the majeſtic mountains are covered with foreſts, which leave ſpace for little more than a road between their feet and the wa⯑ter. A group of peaſants, with baſkets on their heads, appeared now and then along the winding path, and their diminutive figures, as they paſſed under the cliffs, ſeemed to make the heights ſhew more tremendous. When they diſappeared for a moment in the copſes, their voices, echoing with ſeveral repetitions among the rocks, were heard at intervals, and with good effect, as our oars were ſuſpended.

Soon after paſſing the iſland of Sand, we had a perſpective view of St. Goar, of the ſtrong fortreſs of Rhinfels, on the rocks beyond, and of the ſmall fortified town of Goarhauſen, on the oppoſite bank. The mountains now become ſtill more ſtupendous, and many rivu⯑lets, or becks, which latter is a German, as well as an Engliſh term, deſcend from them into the river, on either hand, ſome of which, in a ſeaſon leſs dry than the preſent, roar with angry torrents. But the extreme violence, with which the Rhine paſſes in this diſtrict, left us leſs leiſure than in others to obſerve its ſcenery.

ST. GOAR.

WE ſoon reached St. Goar, lying at the feet of rocks on the weſtern ſhore, with its ramparts and fortifications ſpreading far along the water, and mounting in ſeveral lines among the ſurround⯑ing cliffs, ſo as to have a very ſtriking and romantic appearance. The Rhine no where, perhaps, preſents grander objects either of nature, or of art, than in the northern perſpective from St. Goar. There, expanding with a bold ſweep, the river exhibits, at one coup d'oeil, on its mountainous ſhores, ſix fortreſſes or towns, many of them placed in the moſt wild and tremendous ſituations; their antient and gloomy ſtructures giving ideas of the ſullen tyranny of former times. The height and fantaſtic ſhapes of the rocks, upon which they are perched, or by which they are overhung, and the width and rapidity of the river, that, unchanged by the viciſſitudes of ages and the contentions on its ſhores, has rolled at their feet, while generations, that made its mountains roar, have paſſed away into the ſilence of eternity,—theſe were objects, which, combined, formed one of the ſublimeſt ſcenes we had viewed.

The chief of the fortreſſes is that of Rhinſels, impending over St. Goar, on the weſt ſhore, its high round tower riſing above maſſy buildings, that crown two rocks, of ſuch enormous bulk and threat⯑ening power, that, as we glided under them, it was neceſſary to re⯑member their fixed foundations, to ſoften the awe they inſpired. [306] Other fortifications extend down the precipices, and margin the river, at their baſe. Further on in the perſpective, and where the eaſt bank of the Rhine makes its boldeſt ſweep, is the very ſtriking and ſingular caſtle of Platz, a cluſter of towers, overtopped by one of immenſe height, that, perched upon the ſummit of a pyramidal rock, ſeems ready to precipitate itſelf into the water below. Wherever the cliffs beneath will admit of a footing, the ſharp angles of fortifications appear.

On another rock, ſtill further in the perſpective, is the caſtle of Thumberg, and, at its foot, on the edge of the water, the walled tower of Welmick. Here the Rhine winds from the eye among heights, that cloſe the ſcene.

Nearly oppoſite to St. Goar, is Goarſhauſſen, behind which the rocks riſe ſo ſuddenly, as ſcarcely to leave ſpace for the town to lie between them and the river. A flying bridge maintains a commu⯑nication between the two places, which, as well as the fortreſs of Rhinfels, are under the dominion of the Prince of Heſſe Caſſel.

The number of fortreſſes here, over which Rhinfels is in every reſpect paramount, ſeem to be the leſs neceſſary, becauſe the river itſelf, ſuddenly ſwoln by many ſtreams and vexed by hidden rocks, is a ſort of natural fortification to both ſhores, a very little reſiſt⯑ance from either of which muſt render it impaſſable. Whether the water has a ſubterraneous paſſage from Bingen hither or not, there are occaſionally agitations in this part, which confound the ſkill of naturaliſts; and the river is univerſally allowed to have a fall. Near St. Goar, a ſudden guſt of wind, aſſiſted by the current, ren⯑dered [307] our boat ſo unmanageable, that, in ſpite of its heavineſs and of all the efforts of the watermen, it was whirled round, and nearly forced upon the oppoſite bank to that, on which they would have directed it.

St. Goar is a place of great antiquity. A diſpute about the etymo⯑logy of its name is remarkable for the ludicrous contrariety of the two opinions. One author maintains, that it is derived from an hermit named Goar, who, in the ſixth century, built a ſmall chapel here. Another ſuppoſes that Gewerb, the name of a neighbouring fall in the Rhine, has been corrupted to Gewer, and thence to Goar; after which, conſidering that there is an iſland called Sand in the river, and that a great quantity of that material is hereabouts thrown up, he finds the two words combine very ſatisfactorily into a likeneſs of the preſent denomination. The former opinion is, however, pro⯑moted by this circumſtance, which the advocates of the latter may complain of as a partiality, that a ſtatue of St. Goar is actually to be ſeen in the great church, founded in 1440; and that, notwithſtanding the robberies and violences committed in the church by a Spaniſh army, the following inſcription is ſtill entire: ‘S. GOAR
MONACHUS GALLUS
OBIIT 611.’

St. Goar is one of the largeſt places we had yet paſſed, and has a conſiderable ſhare of the commerce carried on by the Rhine. Hav⯑ing [308] in time of war a numerous garriſon, and being a little reſorted to on account of its romantic ſituation, it has an air of ſomewhat more animation than might be expected, mingling with the gloom of its walls, and the appearance of decay, which it has in common with other German towns. We were here required to pay the fifth toll from Mentz, and were viſited by a Heſſian ſerjeant, who demanded, that our names and condition ſhould be written in his book. Theſe being given, not in the Saxon, but the Roman character, he returned to require another edition of them in German; ſo that his officer was probably unable to read any other language, or characters. This being complied with, it ſeemed, that the noble garriſon of St. Goar had no further fears concerning us, and we were not troubled by more of the precautions uſed,

The fortreſs of Rhinfels, which commands St. Goar, is frequently mentioned in the hiſtories of German wars. In the year 1255 it endured forty aſſaults of an army, combined from ſixty towns on the Rhine. In 1692, the French General Tallard beſieged it in vain, retreating with the loſs of four thouſand men, and nearly two hun⯑dred officers; but, in 1758, the Marquis de Caſtries ſurpriſed it with ſo much ingenuity and vigour, that not a life was loſt, and it remained in poſſeſſion of the French till 1763, when it was reſtored by the treaty of peace.

BOPPART.

WE next reached the diſmal old town of Boppart, once an imperial city, ſtill ſurrounded with venerable walls, and dignified by the fine Benedictine nunnery and abbey of Marienberg, perched upon a mountain above; an inſtitution founded in the eleventh cen⯑tury, for the benefit of noble families only, and enriched by the dona⯑tions of ſeveral Emperors and Electors. Boppart, like many other towns, is built on the margin of the Rhine, whence it ſpreads up the rocks, that almoſt impend over the water, on which the cluſtered houſes are ſcarcely diſtinguiſhable from the cliffs themſelves. Beſides the Benedictine abbey, here is a convent of Carmelites, and another of Franciſcans; and the ſpot is ſuch as ſuited well the ſuperſtition of former times, for

[310] The river, expanding into a vaſt bay, ſeems nearly ſurrounded by mountains, that aſſume all ſhapes, as they aſpire above each other; ſhooting into cliffs of naked rock, which impend over the water, or, covered with foreſts, retiring in multiplied ſteeps into regions whither fancy only can follow. At their baſe, a few miſerable cabins, and half-famiſhed vineyards, are all, that diverſify the ſavageneſs of the ſcene. Here two Capuchins, belonging probably to the convent above, as they walked along the ſhore, beneath the dark cliffs of Boppart, wrapt in the long black drapery of their order, and their heads ſhrowded in cowls, that half concealed their faces, were inter⯑eſting figures in a picture, always gloomily ſublime.

PLACE OF ANTIENT ELECTIONS.

PASSING the town of Braubach and the majeſtic caſtle of Markſberg, which we had long obſerved, above the windings of the ſtream, on a ſteep mountain, we came to Renſe, a ſmall town, remarkable only for its neighbourhood to a ſpot, on which the elec⯑tions of kings of the Romans, or, at leaſt, the meetings preliminary to them, are believed to have antiently taken place. This is diſtin⯑guiſhed at preſent by the remains of a low octagonal building, open at top, and acceſſible beneath by eight arches, in one of which is a ſlight of ſteps. Within, is a ſtone bench, ſuppoſed to be formed for the Electors, who might aſcend to it by theſe ſteps. In the centre [311] of the pavement below is a thick pillar, the uſe of which, whether as a tribune for the new king, or as a table for receiving the atteſtations of the electors, is not exactly known. That the building itſelf, now called Koningſtuhl, or King's Throne, was uſed for ſome purpoſes of election, appears from ſeveral German hiſtorians, who mention meet⯑ings there in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, and impute them to antient cuſtoms.

INTERMIXTURE OF GERMAN TERRITORIES.

NEARLY oppoſite to Renſe is the ſmall town of Ober⯑lahnſtein, which belongs to the Elector of Mentz, though ſeparated from his other dominions by thoſe of ſeveral Princes. To ſuch inter⯑ſections of one territory with another the individual weakneſs of the German Princes is partly owing; while their collected body has not only neceſſarily the infirmities of each of its members, but is enfeebled by the counteraction ariſing from an arrangement, which brings per⯑ſons together to decide a queſtion, according to a common intereſt, who are always likely to have an individual one of more import⯑ance to each than his ſhare in the general concern.

The banks of the Rhine afford many inſtances of this disjunction of territory. The Elector of Cologn has a town to the ſouthward of nearly all the dominions of Treves; the Elector Palatine, whoſe poſ⯑ſeſſions on the eaſt bank of the Rhine are interſected by thoſe of five [312] or ſix other Princes, croſſes the river to occupy ſome towns between the Electorates of Mentz and Treves; the Landgrave of Heſſe Caſſel does the ſame to his fortreſs of Rhinfels; and the Elector of Mentz, in return, has a ſtrip of land and his chief country reſidence, between the dominions of the two houſes of Heſſe.

That this intermixture of territory exiſts, without producing do⯑meſtic violences, is, however, obviouſly a proof, that the preſent ſtate of the Germanic body, weak as it may be, with reſpect to foreign intereſts, is well formed for the preſervation of interior peace. The aggrandizement of the Houſes of Auſtria and Pruſſia, which has been ſuppoſed dangerous to the conſtitution of the Empire, tends conſiderably to ſecure its domeſtic tranquility, though it dimi⯑niſhes the independence of the leſſer Sovereigns; for the intereſts of the latter are known to be ranged on one, or the other ſide; and, as the Houſe, to which each is attached, is likely to interfere, upon any aggreſſion againſt them, the weaker Princes are with-held from con⯑teſts among themſelves, which would be accompanied by wars, ſo very extenſive and ſo diſproportionate to their cauſes.

Nor is the Chamber of Wetzlaar, or the Court for deciding the cauſes of Princes, as well as all queſtions relative to the conſtitution, to be conſidered as a nullity. The appointment of the judges by the free but ſecret votes of all Princes, ſubject to their decrees, is alone wanting to make its purity equal to its power. In minute queſtions, the chief Princes readily receive its deciſion, inſtead of that of arms, which, without it, might ſometimes be adopted; and the other Sove⯑reigns [313] may be compelled to obey it, the Chamber being authoriſed to command any Prince to enforce its decrees by his army, and to take payment of the expences out of the dominions of his refractory neigh⯑bour. An inſtance of ſuch a command, and of its being virtually effectual, notwithſtanding the ridicule, with which it was treated, occurred, during the reign of the late Frederic of Pruſſia; the ſtory is variouſly told, but the following account was confirmed to us by an Advocate of the Chamber of Wetzlaar.

The Landgrave of Heſſe Caſſel had diſobeyed ſeveral injunctions of the Chamber, relative to a queſtion, which had been conſtitution⯑ally ſubmitted to them. At length, the Judges had recourſe to their power of calling out what is called the Armée Exécutrice de l'Empire, conſiſting of ſo many troops of any Prince, not a party in the cauſe, as may be ſufficient for enforcing ſubmiſſion. The Sovereign of Heſſe Caſſel was not to be conquered by any of his immediate neigh⯑bours, and they were induced to direct their order to the King of Pruſſia, notwithſtanding the probability, that ſo unjuſt a monarch would ſhew ſome reſentment of their controul.

Frederic conſented to the propriety of ſupporting the Chamber, but did not chooſe to involve himſelf with the Landgrave, on their account. He, therefore, ſent him a copy of their order, accompanied by a letter, which, in his own ſtyle of courteous pleaſantry, yet with a ſufficient ſhew of ſome further intentions, admoniſhed him to obey them. The Landgrave aſſured him of his readineſs to conform, and the two Princes had privately ſettled the matter, when the King of [314] Pruſſia reſolved to obey and to ridicule the Chamber of Wetzlaar. He ſent, by a public diligence, a ſerjeant of foot, who, at the firſt Heſſian garriſon, delivered a paper to the captain of the guard, declaring himſelf to be the commander of the Armée Exécutrice, ſet on foot by order of the Chamber; and the army conſiſted of two corporals, who waited at the door! The Judges of Wetzlaar did not ſhew, that they knew the diſreſpect, and were contented that the King of Pruſſia had reduced the Landgrave of Heſſe Caſſel to obedience.

To this Court ſubjects may make appeals from the orders of their immediate ſovereigns, when the queſtion can be ſhewn to have any general, or conſtitutional tendency. Such a cauſe we heard of in Germany, and it ſeemed likely to place the Chamber in ſomewhat a delicate ſituation. The Elector of Treves had baniſhed a magiſtrate, for having addreſſed himſelf to Cuſtine, during the invaſion of the French, in 1792, and requeſted to know whether he might remain on a part of his property, near their poſts, and perform the duties of his office, as uſual. The magiſtrate appealed to Wetzlaar; admitted the facts charged; and ſet forth, that, in this part of his conduct, he had exactly followed the example of the Chamber itſelf, who, though at a greater diſtance, had made a ſimilar application.

Soon after leaving Oberlahnſtein, we paſſed the mouth of the Lahn, a ſmall river, which deſcends from the mountains of Wette⯑ravia [315] on the right, and waſhes ſilver and lead mines in its courſe. It iſſues from one of thoſe narrow and gloomy foreſt-glens, which had continually occurred on the eaſtern bank ſince we left Boppart, and which were once terrible for more than their aſpect, having been the haunt of robbers, of whoſe crimes ſome teſtimonies ſtill remain in the tombs of murdered travellers near the ſhore. In the ruins of caſtles and abandoned fortreſſes within the receſſes of theſe wild mountains, ſuch banditti took up their abode; and theſe are not fancied per⯑ſonages, for, in the year 1273, an Elector of Mentz deſtroyed the deſerted fortreſs of Rheinberg, becauſe it had been a rendezvous for them.

Towards ſun-ſet, the rain, which had fallen at intervals during the day, ceaſed; a fiery fluſh from the weſt was reflected on the water, and partially coloured the rocks. Sometimes, an oblique gleam glanced among theſe glens, touching their upper cliffs, but leaving their depths, with the rivulets, that roared there, in darkneſs. As the boat glided by, we could now and then diſcover on the heights a convent, or a chateau, lighted up by the rays, and which, like the pictures in a magic lanthorn, appeared and vaniſhed in a moment, as we paſſed on the current.

But the ſhores ſoon begin to wear a milder aſpect; the mountains of the weſtern bank ſoften into gradual heights; and vineyards, which had diſappeared near Boppart, again climb along them. The eaſtern ſhore is more abrupt, ſtill bearing on its points ſome antient buildings, till, oppoſite to Coblentz, it ſhoots up into that enormous maſs, which ſuſtains the fortreſs of Ehrenbreitſtein.

[316] Having paſſed a Benedictine convent, ſeated on the iſland of Ober⯑worth, we reached Coblentz as the moon began to tint the rugged Ehrenbreitſtein, whoſe towers and pointed angles caught the light. Part of the rock below, ſhaded by projecting cliffs, was dark and awful, but the Rhine, expanding at its feet, trembled with radiance. There the flying-bridge, and its ſweeping line of boats, were juſt diſ⯑cernible. On the left, the quay of Coblentz extended, high and broad, crowned with handſome buildings; with tall veſſels lying along its baſe.

EHRENBREITSTEIN.

WE were now ſomewhat more pleaſantly lodged than before, at an inn near the Rhine, almoſt oppoſite to the fortreſs, the importance of which had, in the mean time, greatly increaſed by the approach of the French armies. The ſtrength of it was ſomewhat a popular topic. Being conſidered as one of the keys of Germany towards France, the Governor takes the oaths not only to the Elector of Treves, but to the Emperor and the Empire. As it can be attacked but on one ſide, and that is not towards the Rhine, a blockade is more expected than a ſiege; and there are ſtorehouſes in the rock for preſerving a great quantity of proviſions. The ſupply of water has been provided for ſo long ſince as the fifteenth century, when three years were paſſed in digging, with incredible labour, a well through the ſolid rock. An inſcription on a part of the caſtle men⯑tions [317] this work, and that the rock was hewn to the depth of two hundred and eighty feet. The poſſeſſion of the fortreſs was con⯑firmed to the Elector of Treves by the treaty of Weſtphalia in 1650.

In the morning, our boatmen croſſed the river from Coblentz, to paſs under the walls of Ehrenbreitſtein, perhaps an eſtabliſhed ſymp⯑tom of ſubmiſſion. The river is ſtill of noble breadth, and, after the junction with the Moſelle, which immediately fronts the old palace, flows with great, but even rapidity. Its ſhores are now leſs roman⯑tic, and more open; ſpreading on the left into the plains of Coblentz, and ſwelling on the right into retiring mountains.

This converſation paſſed while we were floating through the vale of Ehrenbreitſtein, where the river, bending round the plains of Co⯑blentz, flows through open and richly cultivated banks, till it enters the valley of Andernach, where it is again encloſed among romantic rocks. The places, waſhed by it in its paſſage thither, are the villages of Neuralf, Warſchheim, Nerenberg, Malter, the old caſtle of Malter⯑berg, the village of Engus, the fine electoral palace of Schonbornuſt, the neat town and palace of Neuwied, and the chateau of Friedrichſtein, [321] called by the country people the Devil's Caſtle, from that love of the wonderful, which has taught them to people it with apparitions.

NEUWIED

WAS now the head-quarters of a legion raiſed by the Prince of Salm, for the pay of Great Britain; and a ſcarlet uniform, ſomewhat reſembling the Engliſh, was frequent on the quay. We heard of ſeveral ſuch corps in Germany, and of the facility with which they are raiſed, the Engliſh pay being as eightpence to two⯑pence better than thoſe of Auſtria and Pruſſia. Recruits receive from one to two crowns bounty: whether it is equally true, that the officers are, notwithſtanding, allowed ten pounds for each, we can⯑not poſitively aſſert; but this was ſaid within the hearing of ſeveral at Cologne, and was not contradicted. La ſolde d'Angleterre is extremely popular in Germany; and the great wealth of the Engliſh nation begins to be very familiarly known.

ANDERNACH

WAS occupied by Imperial troops; and, as we entered the gorge of its rocky paſs, it was curious to obſerve the appearances of modern mixed with thoſe of antient warfare; the ſoldiers of Fran⯑cis the Second lying at the foot of the tower of Druſus; their artil⯑lery and baggage waggons lining the ſhore along the whole extent of the walls.

In this neighbourhood are three celebrated mineral ſprings, of which one riſes in the domain of the Carmelite monaſtery of Jonnieſ⯑ſtein; the ſecond, called Ponterbrunnen, is ſo briſk and ſpirited, that the labourers in the neighbouring fields declare it a remedy for fatigue as well as thirſt; and a third, called Heilbrunnen, has ſo much fixed air, as to efferveſce ſlightly when mixed with wine.

The intereſting valley of Andernach has been already deſcribed. Its ſcenery, viewed now from the water, was neither ſo beautiful, or ſo ſtriking, as from the road, by which we had before paſſed. The elevation of the latter, though not great, enabled the eye to take a wider range, and to ſee mountains, now ſcreened by the nearer rocks of the ſhore, which added greatly to the grandeur of the ſcene. The river itſelf was then alſo a noble object, either expanding below, or winding in the diſtance; but, now that we were upon its level, its appearance loſt much both in dignity and extent, and even the rocks [323] on its margin ſeemed leſs tremendous, when viewed from below. Something, however, ſhould be allowed in this laſt reſpect to our having juſt quitted wilder landſcapes; for, though the banks of the Rhine, in its courſe from Bingen to Coblentz, are leſs various and beautiful, than in its paſſage between Andernach and Bonn, they are more grand and ſublime.

But the merits of the different ſituations for the view of river⯑ſcenery have been noticed and contended for by the three perſons moſt authoriſed by their taſte to decide upon them; of whom GRAY has left all his enthuſiaſm, and nearly all his ſublimity, to his two ſur⯑viving friends; ſo that this opinion is to be underſtood only with reſpect to the ſcenery of the Rhine, and does not preſume to mingle with the general queſtion between them. The Rhine now paſſes by the village and caſtle of Hammerſtein, which, with thoſe of Rheineck, were nearly laid waſte by Louis the Fourteenth, the caſtle of Argen⯑dorff and the towns of Lintz and Rheinmagen, all exhibiting ſymp⯑toms of decay, though Lintz is called a commercial town.

ROLAND'S Caſtle appears ſoon after, and, almoſt beneath it, the iſland, that bears Adelaide's convent, called Rolands Werth, or the Worth of Roland.

We were now again at the baſe of the Seven Mountains, whoſe ſummits had long aſpired in the diſtance, and, as we paſſed under the cliffs of Drakenfels, hailed the delightful plain of Goodeſberg, though much of it was concealed by the high ſedgy bank of the Rhine on the left. The ſpreading ſkirts of theſe favourite mountains accom⯑panied [324] us nearly to Bonn, and diſplayed all their various charms of form and colouring in this our farewell view of them.

The town and palace of Bonn extend with much dignity along the weſtern bank, where the Rhine makes a very bold ſweep; one wing of the former overlooking the ſhore, and the want of unifor⯑mity in the front, which is ſeen obliquely, being concealed by the garden groves; the many tall ſpires of the great church riſe over the roof of the palace, and appear to belong to the building.

After leaving Bonn, the ſhores have little that is intereſting, unleſs in the retroſpect of the Seven Mountains, with rich woodlands undu⯑lating at their feet; and when theſe, at length, diſappear, the Rhine loſes for the reſt of its courſe the wild and ſublime character, which diſtinguiſhes it between Bingen and Bonn. The rich plain, which it waters between the latter place and Cologne, is ſtudded, at every gentle aſcent, that bounds it, with abbeys and convents, moſt of them appropriated to the maintenance of noble Chapters.

Of theſe, the firſt is the Ladies Chapter of Vilich, founded in the year 1190, by Megiegor, a Count and Prince of Guelderland, who endowed it richly, and made his own daughter the firſt abbeſs; a lady, who had ſuch excellent notions of diſcipline, that, when any nuns neglected to ſing in the choir, ſhe thought a heavy blow on the cheek the beſt means of reſtoring their voices. This Chapter is one of the richeſt in Germany, and is peculiarly valuable to the nobility of this Electorate from its neighbourhood to Bonn, where many of the ladies paſs great part of the year with their families. On the [325] other ſide of the river is the Benedictine abbey of Siegberg, appro⯑priated alſo to nobles, and lying in the midſt of its own domains, of which a ſmall town, at the foot of its vineyards, is part. Admiſſion into this ſociety is an affair of the moſt ſtrict and ceremonious proof, as to the ſixteen quarterings in the arms of the candidate, each of which muſt be unblemiſhed by any plebeian ſymptoms. Accompa⯑nied by his genealogy, theſe quarterings are expoſed to view for ſix weeks and three days, before the election; and, as there is an ample income to be contended for, the candidates do not heſitate to impeach each others' claims by every means in their power. The prelate of this abbey writes himſelf Count of Guls, Strahlen and Neiderpleis, and has ſix provoſtſhips within his juriſdiction.

Beſides this, and ſimilar buildings, the Rhine paſſes not leſs than twenty villages in its courſe from Bonn to Cologne, a diſtance of pro⯑bably five-and-twenty Engliſh miles.

COLOGNE

NOW began to experience the inconveniences of its neighbourhood to the ſeat of war, ſome of which had appeared at Bonn from the arrival of families, who could not be lodged in the for⯑mer place. We were no ſooner within the gates, than the throng of people and carriages in a city, which only a few weeks before was almoſt as ſilent as gloomy, convinced us we ſhould not find a very eaſy welcome. The ſentinels, when they made the uſual enquiry as to our inn, aſſured us, that there had been no lodgings at the Hotel de Prague for ſeveral days, and one of them followed us, to ſee what others we ſhould find. Through many obſtructions by mi⯑litary and other carriages, we, however, reached this inn, and were ſoon convinced that there could be no room, the landlord ſhewing us the chaiſes in which ſome of his gueſts ſlept, and his billiard table already loaden with beds for others. There was ſo much confuſion meanwhile in the adjoining ſquare, that, upon a ſlight aſſurance, we could have believed the French to be within a few miles of the city, and have taken refuge on the oppoſite bank of the Rhine.

At length, our hoſt told us, that what he believed to be the worſt room in the place was ſtill vacant, but might not be ſo half an hour longer. We followed his man to it, in a diſtant part of the city, and ſaw enough in our way of parties taking refreſhment in carriages, and [327] gentlemen carrying their own baggage, to make us contented with a viler cabin than any perſon can have an idea of, who has not been out of England. The next morning we heard from the miſtreſs of it how fortunately we had been ſituated, two or three families hav⯑ing paſſed the night in the open market-place, and great numbers in their carriages.

The occaſion of this exceſſive preſſure upon Cologne was the entry of the French into Bruſſels, their advances towards Liege, and the immediate proſpect of the ſiege of Maeſtricht, all which had diſ⯑peopled an immenſe tract of territory of its wealthier inhabitants, and driven them, together with the French emigrants, upon the confines of Holland and Germany. The Auſtrian hoſpitals having been removed from Maeſtricht, five hundred waggons, laden with ſick and wound⯑ed, had paſſed through Cologne the day before. The carriages on the roads from Maeſtricht and Liege were almoſt as cloſe as in a proceſſion, and at Aix la Chapelle, where theſe roads meet, there was an obſtruction for ſome hours. While we were at Cologne, another detachment of hoſpital waggons arrived, ſome hundreds of which we had the misfortune to ſee, for they paſſed before our window. They were all uncovered, ſo that the emaciated figures and ghaſtly counte⯑nances of the ſoldiers, laid out upon ſtraw in each, were expoſed to the rays of a burning ſun, as well as to the fruitleſs pity of paſſengers; and, as the carriages had no ſprings, it ſeemed as if theſe half-ſacrificed victims to war would expire before they could be drawn over the rugged pavement of Cologne. Any perſon, who had once witneſſed [328] ſuch a ſight, would know how to eſtimate the glories of war, even though there ſhould be a mercenary at every corner to inſult his una⯑voidable feelings and the eternal ſacredneſs of peace, with the ſlander of diſaffection to his country.

We had ſome thoughts of reſuming our courſe by land from this place, but were now convinced, that it was impracticable, ſeeing the number of poſt-horſes, which were engaged, and judging of the crowds of travellers, that muſt fill the inns on the road. Our water⯑men from Mentz were, however, not allowed to proceed lower, ſo that we had to comply with the extortions of others, and to give nine louis for a boat from Cologne to Nimeguen. Having, not without ſome difficulty, obtained this, and ſtored it with proviſions, we again embarked on the Rhine, rejoicing that we were not, for a ſecond night, to make part of the crowd on ſhore.

Cologne, viewed from the river, appears with more of antient majeſty than from any other point. Its quays, extending far along the bank, its lofty ramparts, ſhaded with old cheſnuts, and crowned by many maſſy towers, black with age; the old gateways opening to the Rhine, and the crowd of ſteeples, overtopping all, give it a vene⯑rable and pictureſque character. But, however thronged the city now was, the ſhore without was ſilent and almoſt deſerted; the ſen⯑tinels, watching at the gates and looking out from the ramparts, or a few women gliding beneath, wrapt in the nun-like ſcarf, ſo melan⯑choly in its appearance and ſo generally worn at Cologne, were nearly the only perſons ſeen.

[329] The ſhores, though here flat, when compared with thoſe to the ſouthward, are high enough to obſtruct the view of the diſtant mountains, that riſe in the eaſt; in the ſouth, the wild ſummits of thoſe near Bonn were yet viſible, but, after this faint glimpſe, we ſaw them no more.

About two miles below Cologne, the weſt bank of the Rhine was covered with hoſpital waggons and with troops, removed from them, for the purpoſe of croſſing the river, to a manſion, converted by the Elector into an hoſpital. About a mile lower, but on the oppoſite bank, is Muhleim, a ſmall town in the dominions of the Elector Palatine, which, in the beginning of the preſent century, was likely to become a rival of Cologne. A perſecution of the Proteſtant mer⯑chants of the latter place drove them to Muhleim, where they erected a ſtaple, and began to trade with many advantages over the mother city; but the puſillanimity of the Elector Palatine permitted them to ſink under the jealouſy of the Coloneſe merchants; their engines for removing heavy goods from veſſels to the ſhore were ordered to be demoliſhed; and the commerce of the place has ſince conſiſted chiefly in the exportation of grain.

The ſhores are now leſs enlivened by villages than in the Rheingan and other diſtricts to the ſouthward, where the cultivation and pro⯑duce of the vineyards afſord, at leaſt, ſo much employment, that ſix or ſeven little towns, each cluſtered round its church, are frequently viſible at once. The courſe of the river being alſo wider and leſs rapid, the ſucceſſion of objects is flower, and the eye is often [330] wearied with the uniform lowneſs of the nearer country, where the antient caſtle and the perched abbey, ſo frequent in the Rheingau, ſeldom appear. Corn lands, with a ſlight intermixture of wood, border the river from hence to Duſſeldorff, and the ſtream flows, with an even force, through long reaches, ſcarcely diſtinguiſhed from each other by any variety of the country, or intervention of towns. Thoſe, which do occur, are called Stammel, Niel, Flietert, Mer⯑kenich, Weſtdorff, Langelt, and Woringen; in which laſt place, the burgeſſes of Cologne, at the latter end of the thirteenth century, ſtood a ſiege againſt their Archbiſhop, and, by a ſucceſsful reſiſt⯑ance, obtained the enjoyment of ſome commercial rights, here ſo rare as to be called privileges. After Dormagen, a ſmall town very ſlightly provided with the means of benefiting itſelf by the river, we came oppoſite to Zons, the fortifications of which are ſo far preſer⯑ved, as that the boatmen on the Rhine are required to ſtop before them and give an account of their cargoes.

We were liſtening to an old French ſong, and had almoſt for⯑gotten the chance of interruption from any abuſes of power, when the ſteerſman called to us in a low, but eager voice, and enquired whether we would permit him to attempt paſſing the caſtle, where, if we landed, we might probably be detained an hour, or, if the officer was at ſupper, for the whole night. By the help of twilight and our ſilence, he thought it poſſible to glide unnoticed under the oppoſite bank, or that we ſhould be in very little danger, if the ſentinels ſhould obey their order for firing upon all veſſels [331] that might attempt to paſs. The inſolent tediouſneſs of a German cuſtom-houſe, and the probable wretchedneſs of inns at ſuch a place as this, determined us in favour of the man's propoſal; we were ſilent for a quarter of an hour; the men with-held their oars; and the watch⯑ful garriſon of Zons ſaw us not, or did not think a boat of two tons burthen could be laden with an army for the conqueſt of Germany.

The evening was not ſo dark as entirely to deny the view of either ſhore, while we continued to float between both, and to trace the fea⯑tures of three or four ſmall towns upon them. Neuſs, being at ſome little diſtance from the river, was concealed; but we had an accurate remembrance of its hideouſneſs, and, recognizing it for the model of many towns ſince ſeen, were pleaſed with a mode of travelling, which rendered us independent of them. The ſame mode, however, pre⯑vented us from viſiting Duſſeldorff, which we did not reach, till after the ſhutting of the gates; ſo that, had we ſtayed, we muſt have paſſed the night in our boat on the outſide, a ſacrifice of too much time to be made, while an army was advancing to the oppoſite ſhore. Being compelled to remain in the boat, we thought it deſirable to be, at the ſame time, proceeding with the ſtream, and ſuffered the ſteerſ⯑man to attempt paſſing another garriſon, by whom, as he ſaid, we ſhould otherwiſe be inevitably detained for the night. He did not effect this, without being noticed by the ſentinels, who called and threatened to fire; but, as the boatmen aſſured us this would ſcarcely be done, without leave from an officer, who might not be immediately at hand, we yielded to their method of preſſing forward as haſtily as [332] poſſible, and were preſently out of ſight of Duſſeldorff, of which we had ſeen only the walls and the extenſive palace, riſing immediately above the water. In the next reach, the boatmen ſtopped to take breath, and then confeſſed, that, though we had eſcaped being de⯑tained, as they had ſaid, they had ſaved ſome florins due for tolls here and at Zons; which ſaving was their motive for running the riſk. Though we would not have encouraged ſuch a purpoſe, had we been aware of it, ſince the neglect of an unjuſt payment might produce an habitual omiſſion of a juſt one, it did not ſeem neceſſary to ſay much, in behalf of a toll on the Rhine, for which there is no other pretence and no other authority than the power to enforce it.

The loſs of Duſſeldorff, we were aſſured, was the leſs, becauſe the pictures of the celebrated gallery had been carried off to meet thoſe of Manheim, at Munich.

It was now dark for two or three hours, but we did not hear of any town or view worth waiting to obſerve. The firſt object in the dawn was the iſland of Kaiſerwerth, on which there is a ſmall town, twice beſieged in the wars of Louis the Fourteenth, and now in the condition, to which military glory has reduced ſo many others. One of the mines in the laſt ſiege blew ſo large a part of the walls over the iſland into the Rhine, that the navigation of the river was, for ſome time, obſtructed by them. The dominion of this iſland, for which the Elector of Cologne and the Elector Palatine contended, was decided ſo lately as 1768 by the authority of the Chamber of Wetzlaar, who ſummoned the King of Pruſſia to aſſiſt them with his [333] troops, as the Armée exécutrice de l'Empire, and the Elector Palatine was put in poſſeſſion of it, notwithſtanding the remonſtrances of his rival.

As the morning advanced, we reached the villages of Kreuzberg, Rheinam and Einingen; and, at five, ſtopped at Urdingen, a town on the weſt bank of the Rhine, at which the Elector of Cologne takes his northernmoſt toll, and a place of more commerce than we had expected to ſee ſhort of Holland. Great part of this is in timber, which it adds to the floats annually ſent to that country; a ſort of expedition ſo curious and uſeful, that we ſhall make no apology for introducing the following account of it.

URDINGEN

HAS a neat market-place and ſome ſymptoms of greater comfort than are uſual in the towns of the Electorate of Cologne; but it is ſubject to violent floods, ſo much ſo, that at the inn, which is, at leaſt, an hundred and fifty yards from the ſhore, a braſs plate, nailed upon the door of the parlour, relates, that the river had riſen to that height; about five feet from the ground.

After reſting here, five hours, we returned to our little bark, with the ſpirits inſpired by favourable weather, and were ſoon borne away on the ample current of the Rhine.

Large Dutch veſſels, bound to Cologne, now frequently appeared, and refreſhed us once again with the ſhew of neatneſs, induſtry and proſperity. The boatmen learned, that ſeveral of theſe were from Rotterdam, laden with the effects of Flemiſh refugees, brought thi⯑ther from Oſtend; and others were carrying military ſtores for the uſe, as they ſaid, of the Emperor. The ordinary trade of the Dutch with Germany, in tea, coffee, Engliſh cloths and Engliſh hardware, which we had heard at Mentz was ſlackened by the expected ap⯑proach of armies, now ſeemed to be exchanged for the conveyance of property from ſcenes of actual diſtreſs to thoſe not likely to be long exempted from it.

A little beyond Urdingen, the town of Bodberg marks the north⯑ern [338] extremity of the long and narrow dominions of Cologne, once ſo far connected with Holland, as that the Archbiſhop had juriſdic⯑tion over the Biſhop of Holland, and the Chapter of Utrecht. But Philip the Second, before the States had reſiſted his plundering, ob⯑tained of the Pope, that they ſhould not be ſubject to any foreign ſee; and the Biſhop had a reſidence aſſigned to him at Haerlem.

The Rhine is now bounded on the left by the country of Meurs; and, having, after a few miles, part of the Duchy of Cleves on the right, it becomes thus encloſed by the territories of the King of Pruſſia, under whoſe dominion it rolls, till the States of Guelderland repoſe upon one bank, and, ſoon after, thoſe of Utrecht, on the other. We were here, of courſe, in the country of tolls; and our waterman could not promiſe how far we ſhould proceed in the day, ſince it was impoſſible to eſtimate the delays of the collectors. Meurs has no place, except ſmall villages, near the river; but, at the com⯑mencement of the Duchy of Cleves, the influx of the Ruhr into the Rhine makes a ſmall port, at which all veſſels are obliged to ſtop, and pay for a Pruſſian paſs. Some Dutch barks, of probably one hundred and twenty tons burthen, we were aſſured would not be diſ⯑miſſed for leſs than fifty ducats, or twenty guineas each. The town is called the Ruhort, and we had abundance of time to view it, for the Collector would not come to the boat, but ordered that we ſhould walk up, and make our appearance before him.

It is a ſmall place, rendered buſy by a dock-yard for building veſ⯑ſels to be employed on the Rhine, and has ſomewhat of the freſh [339] appearance, exhibited by ſuch towns as ſeem to be built for preſent uſe, rather than to ſubſiſt becauſe they have once been erected. In the dock, which opens to the Ruhr, two veſſels of about ſixty tons each were nearly finiſhed, and with more capital, many might no doubt be built for the Dutch, timber and labour being here much cheaper than in Holland.

After the boatman had ſatisfied the Collector, we reſumed our voyage, very well contented to have been detained only an hour. The woody heights of Cleves now broke the flat monotony of the eaſtern ſhore, the antiquity of whoſe foreſts is commemorated by Tacitus in the name of Saltus Teutoburgenſis, ſuppoſed to have been bounded here by the town now called Duiſbourg:‘—"haud procul Teutoburgenſi ſaltu, in quo reliquiae Vari legionumque mſepultae dicebantur"—’

Theſe foreſts were alſo celebrated for their herds of wild horſes; and the town of Duiſbourg, having been rendered an Univerſity in 1655, is thus panegyrized by a German poet:

Of the commerce there were ſtill ſome ſigns in half a dozen veſſels, collected on the beach. Whether the Univerſity alſo ſubſiſts, or is any thing more than a free ſchool, which is frequently called an Univerſity in Germany, we did not learn.

WESEL.

AFTER five or ſix ſmall towns, or villages, more, the Rhine reaches the well known fortified town and ſtate priſon of Weſel; a place, not always unfavourable to freedom, for here RAPIN, driven from the diſtrict now called La Vendée in France, by Louis the Fourteenth's perſecution of Proteſtants, retired to write his Hiſ⯑tory; recollecting, perhaps, that it had before ſheltered refugees from the tyranny of the Duke of Alva, and our ſanguinary Mary.

The towers and citadel of Weſel give it the appearance of a mili⯑tary place, and it is frequently ſo mentioned; but the truth is, that the late King of Pruſſia, with the ſame fear of his ſubjects, which was felt by Joſeph the Second in Flanders, demoliſhed all [341] the effectual works, except thoſe of the citadel; a policy not very injurious to the Monarch in this inſtance, but which, in Flanders, has ſubmitted the country to be twice over-run in three years, and has in fact been the moſt deciſive of paſſed events in their influence upon preſent circumſtances.

The reformed worſhip is exerciſed in the two principal churches, but the Catholics have two or three monaſteries, and there is a Chap⯑ter of Noble Ladies, of whom two thirds are Proteſtants, and one third Catholic; an arrangement which probably accounts for their having no ſettled and common reſidence.

Oppoſite to Weſel is Burick, the fortifications of which remain, and are probably intended to ſerve inſtead of the demoliſhed works of the former place, being connected with it by a flying-bridge over the Rhine. A little lower are the remains of the old chateau of Fur⯑ſtemberg, on a hill where the ladies of the noble Ciſtercian nunnery of Furſtemberg had once a delightful ſeat, now deſerted for the ſociety of Xanten.

Xanten, the firſt place at which we had ſtopped in Germany, and the laſt, for a long tract, which we had ſeen with pleaſure, Xanten, now diſtinguiſhable, at a ſmall diſtance from the river, by its ſpires, reminded us of the gay hopes we had formed on leaving it; with a new world ſpread out before us, for curioſity, and, as we thought, for admiration; yet did not render the remembrance of diſappoint⯑ment, as to the laſt reſpect, painful, for even the little information we had gained ſeemed to be worth the labour of acquiring it.

[342] The exchange of indefinite for exact ideas is for ever deſirable. Without this journey of eleven or twelve hundred miles we ſhould have conſidered Germany, as its poſition in maps and deſcription in books repreſent it, to be important, powerful and proſperous; or, even if it had been called wretched, the idea would have been indi⯑ſtinct, and the aſſertion, perhaps, not wholly credited. The greateſt and, as it is reaſonable to believe, the beſt part of Germany we have now ſeen, and, in whatever train of reaſoning it is noticed, have an opinion how it ſhould be valued. Thoſe, who cannot gueſs at cauſes, may be ſure of effects; and having ſeen, that there is little individual proſperity in Germany, little diffuſion of intelligence, manners, or even of the means for comfort, few ſources of independence, or honourable wealth, and no examples of the poverty, in which there may be pride, it was not leſs perceptible, that there can be no general importance, no weight in the balance of uſeful, that is, peaceful power, and no place, but that of an inſtrument, even in the deſperate exer⯑ciſes of politics.

A reſpect for the perſons of learning, or thought, who live, as the impertinence of high and the ignorance of low ſociety forces them to live, in a ſtrict and faſtidious retirement, cannot alter the general eſtimation of the country, in any reſpect here conſidered; their converſation with each other has no influence upon the com⯑munity; their works cannot have a preſent, though they will have a general and a permanent effect. The humbler claſſes, from whom proſperity ſhould reſult in peace, and ſtrength in war, give little of [343] either to Germany; and man is very ſeldom negatively ſtationed; when not uſeful to his fellow-creatures, he is generally ſomewhat injurious. The ſubſtantial debaſement of the German peaſantry, that is, their want of ordinary intelligence, re-acts upon the means that produced it, and, continuing their inferiority, continues many injurious effects upon the reſt of Europe.

That Germany ſhould be thus eſſentially humble, perhaps, none would have ventured to foreſee. The materialiſt could not have found it in the climate. The politician might haſtily expect it from the arbitrary character of the governments, but muſt heſitate, when he recollects how France advanced in ſcience and manufactures, under the dominion of Louis the Fourteenth, greatly more deſpotic than the uſual adminiſtrations in Germany. Perhaps, the only ſolu⯑tion for this difference of effects from apparently ſimilar cauſes is, that the greater extent of his territory, as well as the better opportu⯑nities of his ſubjects for commerce, enabled Louis to gratify his taſte for ſplendour, at the ſame time that they ſhewed his ambition a means of indulgence, by increaſing the means of his people. Ger⯑many, frittered into ſeveral ſcore of ſovereignties, has no opulent power; no conſiderable income, remaining after the payment of its armies; few wealthy individuals. The Emperor, with fifty-ſix titles, does not gain a florin by his chief dignity; or Granvelle, the Miniſter of Charles the Fifth, would have been contradicted when he ſaid ſo in the Chamber of Princes. The Elector Palatine is almoſt the only Prince, whoſe revenue is not abſorbed by political, military [344] and houſehold eſtabliſhments; and though, in an advanced ſtate of ſociety, or in opulent nations, what is called patronage is ſeldom ne⯑ceſſary, and muſt, perhaps, be as injurious to the happineſs as it is to the dignity of thoſe who receive it, nothing is more certain than that there have been periods in the hiſtory of all countries, when the libe⯑rality of the Prince, or the more independent protection of beneficed inſtitutions, was neceſſary to the exiſtence of curioſity and know⯑ledge. At ſuch times, a large expenditure, if directed by taſte, or even by vanity, afforded a ſlow recompenſe for the aggreſſions, that might ſupport it, by ſpreading a deſire of diſtinction for ſome intel⯑lectual accompliſhment, as the claim to notice from the court; and the improvement of mind circulated, by more general encourage⯑ment, till every town and village had its men of ſcience. Thus it was that the deſpotiſm of Louis the Fourteenth had a different effect from that of his contemporary German Princes, who, by no oppreſ⯑ſions, could raiſe a ſufficient income, to make their own expenditure the involuntary means of improving the intellectual condition of their people.

From the neighbourhood of Xanten, in which we were induced thus to eſtimate what had been gained, ſince we ſaw it laſt, and from a ſhore that gradually riſes into the many woody heights around Cal⯑car and Cleves, the Rhine ſpeedily reaches Rees, a town on the right bank, built advantageouſly at an angle, made by a flexu [...]e of the river to the left.

We landed to view this place, and were ſoon perſuaded, by the [345] Dutch-like cleanlineſs and civility of the people at the inn, to remain there for the night, rather than to attempt reaching Emmerick.

Rees is near enough to Holland to have ſome of its advantages; and, whatever contempt it may be natural for Engliſh travellers, at the commencement of their tour, to feel for Dutch dullneſs and covet⯑ouſneſs, nothing but ſome experience of Germany is neceſſary to make them rejoice in a return to the neatneſs, the civility, the com⯑forts, quietneſs, and even the good humour and intelligence to be eaſily found in Holland. Such, at leaſt, was the change, produced in our minds by a journey from Nimeguen to Friburg. The lower claſſes of the Dutch, and it is the conduct of ſuch claſſes, that every where has the chief influence upon the comforts of others, are not only without the malignant fullenneſs of the Germans, and, therefore, ready to return you ſervices for money, but are alſo much ſuperior to them in intelligence and docility. Frequent oppor⯑tunities of gain, and the habit of comparing them, ſharpen intellects, which might otherwiſe never be exerciſed. In a commercial coun⯑try, the humbleſt perſons have opportunities of profiting by their qualifications; they are, therefore, in ſome degree, prepared for bet⯑ter conditions, and do not feel that angry envy of others, which ariſes from the conſciouſneſs of ſome irremediable diſtinction.

The inhabitants of Rees ſpeak both Dutch and German; and it was pleaſing to hear at the inn the ſulky yaw of the latter exchan⯑ged for the civil Yaw well, Mynheer, of the Dutch. The town is built chiefly of brick, like thoſe in Holland; the ſtreets light; the [346] market-place ſpacious, and the houſes well preſerved. It is of no great extent, but the ſpace within the walls is filled, though this muſt have been ſometimes partly cleared by the ſieges, to which Rees was ſubject in the war of Philip the Second upon the Dutch. A few emi⯑grants from Bruſſels and Maeſtricht were now ſheltered in it; but there was no garriſon and no other ſymptom of its neighbourhood to the ſcene of hoſtilities, than the arrival of a Pruſſian commiſſary to collect hay and corn. We were cheered by the re-appearance of proſperity in a country, where it is ſo ſeldom to be ſeen, and paſſed a better evening in this little town, than in any other between Fri⯑burg and Holland.

In the morning, having no diſguſt to impel us, we were ſome⯑what tardy in embarking; and the boatmen, who had found out the way of reviving our impatience, talked of the great diſtance of Hol⯑land, till they had us on board. Five or ſix well-looking villages preſently appear after leaving Rees, the next port to which is Em⯑merick, once an Hanſeatic town, and ſtill a place of ſome dignity, from ſpires and towers, but certainly not of much commerce, for we could not ſee more than two veſſels on the beach.

This is the town, at which a Governor and General, appointed by Philip the Second, with probably half a dozen titles, aſſerting his ex⯑cellence, ſerenity and honour, gave an inſtance of baſeneſs, ſcarcely ever exceeded even by Philip himſelf. Approaching the place, which was then neutral, the inhabitants went out to him with an entreaty, that he would not ſend troops into it, and, probably by [347] ſomething more than entreaty, obtained his promiſe, that they ſhould be ſpared. In ſpite of this promiſe, of the remonſtrances of the inha⯑bitants, and of the repreſentations of a clergyman, that the Spaniſh aſſurances of having engaged in the war chiefly for the intereſts of the Catholic religion could not be credited, if acts, contrary to the precepts of all religion, were daily perpetrated; in ſpite of theſe, Mendoza, the Spaniſh commander, ſent in four hundred troops, but with another promiſe, that their number ſhould not be increaſed, and with this conſolation for the burgeſſes, that the Spaniſh Colonel of the detachment was directed to ſwear in their preſence, to admit no more, even if they ſhould be offered to him.

Mendoza had eſtimated this man's heart by his own, and conſi⯑dered his oath only as a convenient deluſion for preventing the reſiſt⯑ance of the inhabitants. He accordingly ſent other troops to him, under the command of a foreign hireling, and with a peremptory order for their admiſſion; but the honeſt Spaniard gave him this reply, ‘"Though the General has ſet the example, I will not violate my faith."’

Paſſing Emmerick with much pleaſure, we ſpeedily came to the point at which the Rhine, dividing itſelf into two ſtreams, loſes its name immediately in the one, and preſently after in the other. Some writer has compared this merging to the voluntary ſurrender of exertions and views, by which affectionate parents loſe themſelves in their children. The ſtream, which bends to the weſt, takes the name of the Waal; that, which flows in the general direction of the [348] river, retains its name, for a few miles, when another ſtream iſſues to the northward, and takes that of the Yſſel. The old river is ſtill recognized, after this ſeparation, and the town of Rhenen takes its name from it; but, about a mile lower, it yields to the denomination of the Leck, which, like that of the Waal, does not long enjoy its uſurped diſtinction. The Waal, or Wahl, being joined by the Maas, as the Dutch, or the Meuſe, as the French call it, near Bommel, takes the name of that river, and, ſoon after, the Leck merges in their united ſtream, which carries the title of the Maas by Rotterdam, Schiedam and Flaarding, into the German ocean.

We did not yield to this artificial diſtinction, ſo far as to think our⯑ſelves taking leave of the Rhine, or loſing the ſtream, that had pre⯑ſented to us, at firſt, features of the boldeſt grandeur, mingled with others of the ſweeteſt beauty, and then borne us ſafely paſt a ſhore, preſſed by the haſty ſteps of diſtreſs, as well as threatened by thoſe of ravage from a flying and a purſuing army. Nor does the river change the character it has lately aſſumed; but ſtill paſſes with an even, wide and forceful current between cultivated or paſtoral levels, bounded, at ſome diſtance, by gradual, woody aſcents.

Among theſe heights and woods, Cleves is viſible to the left, and thoſe, who ſee it only at this diſtance, may repeat the dictionary deſcriptions of its grandeur and conſequence as a capital. Soon after, Schenckenkanze, a ſmall fort, built on the point of the long iſland, round which the Rhine and the Waal ſlow, occurs; and then the [349] ſouthern extremity of the province of Utrecht. We were glad to ſee this commencement of the dominions of the United States, though the ſhore oppoſite to them was ſtill Pruſſian; and, telling the boat⯑men, if they had occaſion to ſtop at any town, to touch only upon the free bank, they humoured us ſo far as to row out of the current for the ſake of approaching it; in ſhort, we ſtepped no more upon German land; and, within a few miles, were enveloped, on both ſides, by the proſpering, abounding plains of the Dutch provinces. Italiam! Italiam!

Early in the afternoon, the lofty tower of the Belvidere, or pro⯑ſpect-houſe at Nimeguen, came in ſight; then the bright pinnacles of the public buildings, and the high, turf-coloured angles of the for⯑tifications. The town was thronged with fugitives from Flanders, but we found ſufficient accommodation, as before, at the inn in the market-place, and were not in a tone of ſpirits to be faſtidious about any thing, heightened as the appearance of proſperity was to us by contraſt, and happy as even the refugees appeared to be at finding peace and ſafety. The mall before the Prince of Orange's houſe was filled with parties of them, as gay as if they had left their homes in Flanders but for an holiday excurſion.

We were at the Belvidere till evening, lingering over the rich proſpect of probably forty miles diameter, from Arnheim and Duiſ⯑bourg [350] in the north to Cleves and Guelders in the ſouth, with an eaſt⯑ern view over half the foreſts of Guelderland to thoſe of Weſtphalia. Such an extent of green landſcape, richly varied with towns, villages and woods, ſpreading and gradually aſcending to the horizon, was now almoſt as novel to us, as it was placidly beautiful. On the eaſt, the blue mountainous lines of Germany broke in upon the repoſing character of the ſcene.

In the Waal below, two or three veſſels bore the Emperor's flag, and were laden, as it was ſaid, with ſome of his regalia from Flan⯑ders. Near them, ſeveral bilanders, the decks of which were covered with awnings, had attracted ſpectators to the oppoſite bank, for to that ſide only they were open; and the company in all were objects of curioſity to the Dutch, being no leſs than the ſiſterhood of ſeveral Flemiſh convents, in their proper dreſſes, and under the care of their reſpective abbeſſes. Theſe ladies had been thus ſituated, for ſeveral days and nights, which they had paſſed on board their veſſels. They were attended by their uſual ſervants, and remained together, without going on ſhore, being in expectation, as we were told, of invitations to ſuitable reſidences in Germany; but it was then reported at Ni⯑meguen, that Prince Cobourg was re-advancing to Bruſſels, and theſe ſocieties had probably their misfortunes increaſed by the arti⯑fices of a political rumour. We could not learn, as we wiſhed, that they had brought away many effects. Their plate it was needleſs to enquire about; the contributions of the preceding ſpring had no doubt ſwallowed up that.

[351] Having diſmiſſed our Cologne watermen, we embarked upon the Waal, the next day, in a public boat for Rotterdam; a neat ſchuyt, well equipped and navigated, in which, for a few florins, you have the uſe of the cabin. Our voyage, from the want of wind, was ſlow enough to ſhew as much as could be ſeen of the Waal; which, at Nimeguen, runs almoſt conſtantly downward, but is ſoon met by the tide, and overcome, or, at leaſt, reſiſted by it. The breadth, which varies but little above Bommel, is, to our recollection, not leſs than that of the Thames, at Fulham; the depth, during the begin⯑ning of the ſame ſpace, is probably conſiderable, in the ſtream, for, even upon the ſhore, our dextrous old ſteerſman found water enough to ſweep the ruſhy bank at almoſt every tack, with a boat, drawing about five feet. The ſigns of activity in commerce are aſtoniſhing. A ſmall hamlet, one cannot call any place in Holland contemptible, or miſerable, a hamlet of a dozen houſes has two or three veſſels, of twenty tons each; a village has a herring boat for almoſt every houſe, and a trading veſſel for Rotterdam two or three times a week. Heavy, high rigged veſſels, ſcarcely breaſting the ſtream, and fit only for river voyages, we frequently met; many of them carrying coals for the nearer part of Germany, ſuch as we ſaw on the banks between Rees and Nimeguen, and, with much pleaſure, recognized for ſymp⯑toms of neighbourhood to England.

The firſt town from Nimeguen, on the right bank of the Waal, is Thiel, which we had only time to ſee was encloſed by modern fortifi⯑cations, and was not inferior in neatneſs to other Dutch towns, at leaſt [352] not ſo in one good ſtreet, which we were able to traverſe. A ſand bank before the port has much leſſened the trade of the place, which, in the tenth century, was conſiderable enough to be acknowledged by the Emperor Otto, in the grant of ſeveral privileges.

About a league lower, on the oppoſite ſide of the Waal, or rather on the ſmall iſland of Voorn, ſtood formerly a fort, called Naſſau, which the French, in 1672, utterly deſtroyed. Near its ſite, at the northern extremity of the iſland of Bommel, which lies between the Maas and the Waal, a fort, built by Cardinal Andrew of Auſtria, ſtill ſubſiſts, under the name of Fort St. André. The founder, who built it upon the model of the citadel of Antwerp, had no other view than to command by it the town of Bommel; but, in the year 1600, Prince Maurice of Naſſau reduced the garriſon, after a ſiege of five weeks, and it has ſince contributed to protect what it was raiſed to deſtroy, the independence of the Dutch commonwealth.

In the evening, we came oppoſite to the town of Bommel, where we were put on ſhore to paſs the night and the next day, being Sun⯑day; the boat proceeded on the voyage for Rotterdam, but could not reach it before the next morning.

Bommel is a ſmall town on the edge of the river, ſurrounded by wood enough to make it remarkable in Holland; light, neat and pretty. The two principal ſtreets croſs each other at right angles, and are without canals. Being at ſome diſtance from the general roads, it is ill provided with inns; but one of them has a delightful proſpect, and there is no dirt, or other ſymptom of negligence within. [353] The inhabitants are advanced enough in proſperity and intelligent curioſity to have two Sociétés, where they meet to read new publica⯑tions; a luxury, which may be found in almoſt every Dutch town. At the ends of the two principal ſtreets are gates; that towards the water between very old walls; thoſe on the land ſide modern and ſtronger, with draw-bridges over a wide foſſé, that nearly ſurrounds the town.

On the other ſide of this ditch are high and broad embankments, well planted with trees, and ſo ſuitable to be uſed as public walks, that we ſuppoſed them to have been raiſed partly for that purpoſe, and partly as defences to the country againſt water. They are, however, greater curioſities, having been thrown up by Prince Maurice in 1599, chiefly becauſe his garriſon of four thouſand foot and two thouſand horſe were too numerous for the old works; and between theſe intrenchments was made what is thought to have been the firſt attempt at a covered way, ſince improved into a regular part of forti⯑fications. This was during the ineffectual ſiege of three weeks, in which Mendoza loſt two thouſand men, Maurice having then a con⯑ſtant communication with the oppoſite bank of the Waal by means of two bridges of boats, one above, the other below the town.

Bommel was otherwiſe extremely important in the ſtruggle of the Dutch againſt Philip. It was once planned to have been delivered by treachery, but, that being diſcovered, the Earl of Mansfeldt, Philip's commander, raiſed the ſiege. It adhered to the aſſembly at Dort, though the Earl of March, the commander of the firſt armed force of [354] the Flemings, had committed ſuch violences in the town, that the Prince of Orange found it neceſſary to ſend him to priſon. In the campaign of 1606, when Prince Maurice adopted defenſive operations, this was one of the extreme points of his line, which extended from hence to Schenck.

The natural honeſty of mankind is on the ſide of the defen⯑ſive party, and it is, therefore, that in reading accounts of ſieges one is always on the ſide of the beſieged. The Dutch, except when ſubject to ſome extraordinary influence, have been always defenſive in their wars; from their firſt aſtoniſhing reſiſtance to Philip, to that againſt the petty attack, which Charles the Second incited the Biſhop of Munſter to make, who had the coolneſs to tell Sir WILLIAM TEMPLE, that he had thought over the probabilities of his enterpriſe, and, if it failed, he ſhould not care, for he could go into Italy and buy a Cardinal's cap; but that he had firſt a mind to make ſome figure in the world. The territory of the United Provinces is ſo ſmall, that, in theſe wars, the whole Dutch Nation has been in little better condition, than that of a people, beſieged in one great town; and Louis the Four⯑teenth, in the attempt, which Charles the Second's wicked ſiſter con⯑certed between the two Monarchs, ſent, for the firſt time, to a whole people, a threat, ſimilar to thoſe ſometimes uſed againſt a ſingle town. His declaration of the 24th of June, 1672, after boaſting how his ‘"juſt deſigns"’ and undertakings had proſpered, ſince his arrival in the army, and how he would treat the Dutch, if, [355] by ſubmiſſion, they would ‘"deſerve his great goodneſs,"’ thus proceeds:

‘"On the contrary, all of whatever quality and condition, who ſhall refuſe to comply with theſe offers, and ſhall reſiſt his Majeſty's forces, either by the inundation of their dyke, or otherwiſe, ſhall be puniſhed with the utmoſt rigour. At preſent, all hoſtilities ſhall be uſed againſt thoſe, who oppoſe his Majeſty's deſigns; and, when the ice ſhall open a paſſage on all ſides, his Majeſty will not give any quarter to the inhabitants of ſuch cities, but give order, that their goods be plundered and their houſes burnt."’

It is pleaſant, in every country, to cheriſh the recollections, which make it a ſpectacle for the mind as well as the eye, and no country is enriched by ſo many as Holland, not even the Weſt of England, where patriotiſm and gratitude hover in remembrance over the places, endeared by the ſteps of our glorious WILLIAM.

Bommel is built on a broad projection of the iſland of the ſame name into the Waal, which thus flows nearly on two ſides of its walls, and muſt be effectually commanded by them. But, though it is therefore important in a military view, and that the French were now ſo near to Breda, as to induce families to fly from thence, whom we ſaw at Bommel, yet the latter place was in no readineſs for defence. There was not a cannon upon the walls, or upon the antient outworks, which we miſtook for terraces, and not ten ſoldiers in the place; a negligence, which was, however, immediately after remedied.

[356] The Dutch tardineſs of exertion has been often blamed, and, in ſuch inſtances, deſervedly; but, as to the influence of this ſparingneſs in their general ſyſtem of politics and in former periods, a great deal more wit than truth has been circulated by politicians. The chief value of power is in the known poſſeſſion of it. Thoſe who are believed to have exerted it much, will be attacked, becauſe the exertion may be ſuppoſed to have exhauſted the power. The nation, or the individual, that attempts to rectify every error and puniſh every trivial offence of others, may ſoon loſe, in worthleſs conteſts, the ſtrength, that ſhould be preſerved for reſiſting the moſt poſitive and unequivocal attacks.

Miniſters have appeared in Holland, who could plan unneceſſary conteſts, and meditate the baſeneſs, falſely called ambition, of put⯑ting the whole valour and wealth of a nation into exerciſe, for the purpoſe of enforcing whatever they may have once deſigned, or ſaid; and, as there is, perhaps, no country in Europe, which cannot juſtly allege ſome injury againſt another, they have exaggerated the importance of ſuch injuries, for the purpoſe of impelling their own country, by aggravated anger, or fear, into precipitate hoſti⯑lities. But the Dutch, accuſtoming themſelves to as much vigilance, as confidence, have withheld encouragement from ſuch artifices, and hence that general tardineſs in beginning wars, which every politi⯑cian, capable of an inflammatory declamation, thinks it wiſdom to ridicule.

We left Bommel at ſeven in the morning, in a ſtout, decked ſea⯑boat, [357] well rigged, and, as appeared, very dextrouſly navigated. The wind was directly contrary, and there are ſometimes iſlands, ſome⯑times ſhoals in the Waal, which narrowed the channel to four or five times the length of the veſſel; yet there was not any failure in tacking, and the boom was frequently aſſiſted to traverſe by the reeds of the bank, which it ſwept. The company in the cabin were not very numerous, but there was amongſt them at leaſt one lament⯑able group; the miniſter of a Proteſtant church at Maeſtricht, an aged and decrepid gentleman, flying with his wife and two daughters from the approaching ſiege of that place; himſelf laid on pillows upon the floor of the cabin; his daughters attending him; all neglect⯑ed, all victims to the glories of war.

The boat ſoon paſſed Louvenſtein, on the left bank of the Maeſe, a brick caſtellated building, apparently about two centuries old, ſur⯑rounded by ſome modern works, which render it one of the de⯑fences of the river. Count Byland, the late commander of Breda, was then impriſoned in this fortreſs, which has been long uſed for ſtate purpoſes. Here thoſe friends of Barneveldt were confined, who derived from it, and left to their poſterity the name of the Lou⯑venſtein party; and hence Grotius, who was of the number, made his eſcape, concealed in a trunk, which the ſentinels had ſo often ſeen filled with Arminian books, that his wife perſuaded them they carried nothing more than their uſual cargo.

From Louvenſtein, near which the Waal unites with the Maeſe, and aſſumes the name of that river, we ſoon reached Gorcum, where [358] the ſhort ſtay of the boat permitted us only to obſerve the neatneſs of the town, and that the fortifications had the appearance of being ſtrong, though ſmall, and ſeemed to be in moſt exact repair. This, indeed, is one of the forts chiefly relied upon by the province of Holland; for, in 1787, their States made Gorcum and Naarden the extreme points of their line of defence, and ordered a dyke to be thrown acroſs the Linge, which flows into the Maeſe at the former place, for the purpoſe of overflowing the ſurrounding country.

The next town in the voyage is Dort, formerly one of the moſt conſiderable in Holland, and ſtill eminent for its wealth, though the trade is diminiſhed by that of Rotterdam. This is the town, which Dumourier ſtrove to reach, in the invaſion of 1792, and forty thou⯑ſand ſtand of arms were found to have been collected there for him. Our boat paſſed before one quarter, in which the houſes riſe imme⯑diately over a broad bay of the Maeſe, with an air of uncommon gaiety and lightneſs; but the evenneſs of the town prevented us from ſeeing more than the part directly neareſt.

In the bay was one of thoſe huge timber floats, the conſtruction of which has been before deſcribed. It was crowded with viſitors from the town; and the wooden huts upon it, being ornamented with flags, had the appearance of booths at a fair. Large as this was, it had been conſiderably diminiſhed, ſince its arrival at Dort, and ſeveral hundreds of the workmen had departed.

A little further on, and within ſight of this joyous company, was the melancholy reverſe of nearly an hundred ladies, driven from [359] ſome convent in Flanders, now reſiding, like thoſe near Nimeguen, in bilanders moored to the bank. Their veſſels being open on the ſide towards the water, we caught as full a view of them as could be had, without diſreſpect; and ſaw that they ſtill wore their conventual dreſſes, and were ſeated, apparently according to their ages, at ſome ſort of needle-work. It might have been cenſured, a few years ſince, that miſtakes, or deceptions, as to religious duties, ſhould have driven them from the world; but it was certainly now only to be lamented, that any thing ſhort of the gradual and peaceful progreſs of reaſon ſhould have expelled them from their retirement.

We reached Rotterdam, in the evening, and ſtayed there, the next day, to obſerve whether the confidence of the Dutch in their dykes and fortreſſes was ſufficient to preſerve their tranquillity in a place almoſt within hearing of the war, the French being then beſieging Sluys. There was no perceptible ſymptom of agitation, or any dimi⯑nution of the ordinary means for increaſing wealth. The perſons, with whom we converſed, and they were not a few, ſpoke of the tranſactions of the campaign with almoſt as much calmneſs and curio⯑ſity, as if theſe had been paſſing in India. They could not ſuppoſe it poſſible, that the French might reach the city; or, if they did, ſeemed to rely upon the facility, with which their property could be removed by the canals through Leyden and Haerlem, to the ſhore of the Zuy⯑der Zee, then acroſs it by ſailing barges, and then again by the canals as far as Groningen, whither the French would certainly not pene⯑trate. So valuable was water thought in Holland, not only as a means [360] of opulence in peace, but of defence, or preſervative flight in war. An exceſſive ſelfiſhneſs, which is the vice of the Dutch, appeared ſometimes to prevent thoſe, who could fly, from thinking of their remaining countrymen.

An intention of diſpenſing with the cuſtomary fair was the only circumſtance, which diſtinguiſhed this ſeaſon from others at Rotter⯑dam, and that was imputed to the prudence of preventing any very numerous meetings of the populace.

About three weeks ſooner than was neceſſary, for it was ſo long before a convenient paſſage occurred, we went from hence to Hel⯑voetſluys, and there remained, a fortnight, watching an inflexible north-weſterly wind, and liſtening to accounts but too truly certified of French frigates and privateers, almoſt unoppoſed in thoſe latitudes. Lloyd's Liſt brought the names of five, or ſeven, French ſhips, then known to be cruiſing in the north; and one packet was delayed in its voyage by the ſight of ſeveral Dutch veſſels, ſet on fire within a few leagues of Goree. The Dutch lamented, that the want of ſeamen crippled the operations of their Admiralty Board: an Engliſhman, who was proud to deny, that any ſuch want, or want in ſuch a de⯑gree, exiſted, as to his country, was reduced to ſilence and ſhame, when it was enquired, Why, then, have theſe ſeas been, for twelve months, thus expoſed to the dominion of the French?

At length, a convoy arrived for a noble family, and we endea⯑voured to take the benefit of it by embarking in a packet, which ſailed at the ſame time; but the ſloop of war was unable to paſs over [361] what are called the Flats, and our captain had reſolved to proceed without it, notwithſtanding the contrarieties of the wind, when, with much joy, we diſcerned a ſmall boat, and knew it to be Engliſh by the ſkilful impetuoſity of the rowers. Having induced the people of the packet to make a ſignal, by paying them for the paſſage to Har⯑wich, we were fortunately taken on board this boat, at the diſtance of about three leagues from Helvoetſluys, and ſoon re-landed at that place; the packet proceeding on her voyage, which, ſuppoſing no interruption from the French veſſels, was not likely to be made in leſs than three days. We rejoiced at the releaſe from fatigue and from fear, at leaſt, if not from danger; and, ſeeing little probability of an immediate paſſage, returned, the next day, to Rotterdam, with the hope of finding ſome neutral veſſel, bound to an Engliſh port.

We were immediately gratified by the promiſe of an American captain to meet us with his veſſel at Helvoetſluys, and, the next day, had a delightful voyage thither, in a hired yacht, partly by the Maeſe, and partly by channels inacceſſible to large veſſels.

FLAARDING.

THE Maeſe preſently brought us oppoſite to this ſmall port, the metropolis of the herring fiſhers; rendered intereſting by the patient induſtry and uſeful courage of its inhabitants. We landed at it, but ſaw only what was immediately open for obſerva⯑tion. Like moſt of the Dutch towns, on the banks of rivers, it is protected from floods by ſtanding at the diſtance of three or four hundred yards from the ſhore, and communicates with the ſtream only by a narrow, but deep canal. The beſt ſtreet is built upon the quays of this channel, on which the herring boats depoſit their car⯑goes before the doors of the owners. We did not ſee more than fifty, a great number being then at ſea. Except the buſineſs in this ſtreet, and the ſmell of herrings, which prevailed every where, there was nothing to ſhew that we were in a place ſupported ſolely by the induſtry of fiſhermen; no neglected houſes, no cottages, no dirty ſtreets, no inferiority, in point of neatneſs and brightneſs, to the other towns of Holland.

The inhabitants are remarkable for adhering to the dreſs, as well as the employments of their anceſtors; ſo much ſo, that their cloth⯑ing is mentioned in other towns as the repreſentation of the antient national dreſs, common throughout all the provinces two centuries [363] ſince; and it is certain, that their appearance is exactly ſuch as is delineated in pictures of that date.

Some miles further, we entered the old Maeſe, a channel in ſeveral parts very narrow, and evidently preſerved by art, but in others nobly expanſive, and filled almoſt to the level of the luxuriant paſtures and groves that border it. In one part, where the antient ſtream takes a circuitous courſe, a canal has been cut, that ſhortens the voyage, for light veſſels, by ſeveral miles, and barks in one channel are ſometimes viſible from the other, their ſails ſwelling over fields, in which, at a diſtance, no water is diſcernible. Neat and ſub⯑ſtantial farm-houſes, with meadows ſlanting from them to the river, frequently occurred; and there were more appearances of the careful labours, peculiar to the Dutch, than in the great Maeſe itſelf, the banks being occaſionally ſupported, like their dykes, by a compact baſket-work of flags and faggots.

Paſſing many ſmall villages, or hamlets, we came, at ſun-ſet, to the large branch of the ſea, which ſpreads from Williamſtadt to Helvoetſluys and from thence to the German ocean. The former fortreſs was faintly viſible at a great diſtance over the water; and, while we were ſtrain⯑ing our ſight towards it, there was proof enough of a nearneſs to the preſent theatre of war, the ſounds of the ſiege of Sluys coming loudly and diſtinctly in the breeze. The characters of evening had fallen [364] upon the ſcene in mild and deep ſolemnity; but the glories of nature were unſelt, while a dreadful eſtimation of the miſeries, produced at each return of the ſullen roar, preſſed almoſt excluſively upon the mind; conſiderations, which were ſoon after prolonged by the me⯑lancholy view of ſeveral Engliſh tranſports, filled with wounded ſoldiers, whoſe blythe muſic, now at the firing of the evening gun, was rendered painful by its contraſt to the truth of their conditions.

At Helvoetſluys, nothing was to be heard, but accounts, deri⯑ved from many reſpectable officers, on their way to England, of the unexampled difficulties borne, cheerfully borne, by the Britiſh army, within the laſt three months, and deſervedly mentioned, not as complaints, but as proofs of their ſirmneſs. There were, however, mingled with theſe, many reports as to the contrary conduct even of thoſe continental troops, which ſtill kept the field with us; of their tardineſs, their irregularity, of the readineſs with which they permit⯑ted the Britiſh to aſſume all the dangers of attacks, and of their little co-operation even in the means of general reſiſtance. Brave Anglois! Brave Anglois! was the conſtant ſhout of theſe troops, when they had recourſe to the Britiſh to regain the poſts themſelves had juſt loſt, or to make ſome aſſault, which they had refuſed, or had attempted with ineffectual formality. They would then follow our troops, and, when an advantage was gained, ſeemed to think they had ſhare enough of the victory, if they were at hand to continue the ſlaughter of the retreating, and to engroſs all the plunder of the dead.

[365] We were as glad to eſcape from ſuch conſiderations, as from the crowded inns of Helvoetſluys, now little more convenient than ſhips; and, the next morning, embarked on board the American veſſel, then arrived from Rotterdam. A fair wind ſoon wafted us out of ſight of the low coaſt of Holland; but we were afterwards becalmed, and car⯑ried by tides ſo far towards the Flemiſh ſhore as to have the firing before Sluys not only audible, but terribly loud. For part of three days, we remained within hearing of this noiſe; but did not, there⯑fore, think ourſelves very diſtant from the Engliſh coaſt, knowing that the fire, at the preceding ſiege of Nieuport, had been heard as far as the Downs; Nieuport, the wretched ſcene of ſo many maſ⯑ſacres, and of diſtreſs, which, in Holland, had been forcibly deſcribed to us by eye-witneſſes.

So keenly, indeed, were the horrors of this place conceived by thoſe, who perſonally eſcaped from them, that of the emigrants, reſcued by the intrepidity of our ſeamen, many ſuppreſſed all joy at their own deliverance by lamentations for the fate of their brethren. One gentleman was no ſooner on board a ſhip, then expoſed to the batteries on ſhore, than he climbed the ſhrouds and remained aloft, notwithſtanding all entreaties, till a ſevere wound obliged him to deſcend. Another, who had been ſaved from the beach by a young ſailor, was unable to ſwim ſo far as the ſhip; and the honeſt lad, having taken him upon his back, ſtruggled hard amidſt a ſhower of balls to ſave both their lives. At length, he, too, began to falter; [366] and the weakneſs of his efforts, not his complaints, ſeemed to ſhew his companion, that one, or both of them, muſt periſh: the latter nobly aſked the lad, whether he could ſave his own life, if left to himſelf; and, receiving a reluctant reply, that probably he might do ſo, but that he would ſtrive for both, the emigrant inſtantly plunged into the ocean, and was ſeen no more. The glorious ſailor reached his ſhip, juſt as he began again to fail, and was ſaved.

The calm continued during the day, and the ſun ſet with uncom⯑mon grandeur among clouds of purple, red and gold, that, mingling with the ſerene azure of the upper ſky, compoſed a richneſs and har⯑mony of colouring which we never ſaw ſurpaſſed. It was moſt inter⯑eſting to watch the progreſs of evening and its effect on the waters; ſtreaks of light ſcattered among the dark weſtern clouds, after the ſun had ſet, and gleaming in long reflection on the ſea, while a grey obſcurity was drawing over the eaſt, as the vapours roſe gradually from the ocean. The air was breathleſs; the tall ſails of the veſſel were without motion, and her courſe upon the deep ſcarcely per⯑ceptible; while, above, the planet Jupiter burned with ſteady dignity, and threw a tremulous line of light on the ſea, whoſe ſurface flowed in ſmooth waveleſs expanſe. Then, other planets appeared, and countleſs ſtars ſpangled the dark waters. Twilight now pervaded air and ocean, but the weſt was ſtill luminous, where one ſolemn gleam of duſky red edged the horizon, from under heavy vapours.

It was now that we firſt diſcovered ſome ſymptoms of Eng⯑land; [367] the lighthouſe on the South-Foreland appeared like a dawn⯑ing ſtar above the margin of the ſea.

The veſſel made little progreſs during the night. With the earlieſt dawn of morning we were on deck, in the hope of ſeeing the Engliſh coaſt; but the miſts veiled it from our view. A ſpectacle, however, the moſt grand in nature, repaid us for our diſappointment, and we found the circumſtances of a ſun-riſe at ſea, yet more intereſting than thoſe of a ſun-ſet. The moon, bright and nearly at her meri⯑dian, ſhed a ſtrong luſtre on the ocean, and gleamed between the ſails upon the deck; but the dawn, beginning to glimmer, contended with her light, and, ſoon touching the waters with a cold grey tint, diſcovered them ſpreading all round to the vaſt horizon. Not a ſound broke upon the ſilence, except the lulling one occaſioned by the courſe of the veſſel through the waves, and now and then the drowſy ſong of the pilot, as he leaned on the helm; his ſhadowy figure juſt diſcerned, and that of a ſailor pacing near the head of the ſhip with croſſed arms and a rolling ſtep. The captain, wrapt in a ſea-coat, lay aſleep on the deck, wearied with the early watch. As the dawn ſtrengthened, it diſcovered white ſails ſtealing along the diſtance, and the flight of ſome ſea-fowls, as they uttered their ſlender cry, and then, dropping upon the waves, ſat floating on the ſurface. Meanwhile, the light tints in the eaſt began to change, and the ſkirts of a line of clouds below to aſſume a hue of tawny red, which gradually became rich orange and purple. We could now per⯑ceive a long tract of the coaſt of France, like a dark ſtreak of vapour [368] hovering in the ſouth, and were ſomewhat alarmed on finding our⯑ſelves within view of the French ſhore, while that of England was ſtill inviſible.

The moon-light faded faſt from the waters, and ſoon the long beams of the ſun ſhot their lines upwards through the clouds and into the clear blue ſky above, and all the ſea below glowed with fiery reflections, for a conſiderable time, before his diſk appeared. At length he roſe from the waves, looking from under clouds of purple and gold; and as he ſeemed to touch the water, a diſtant veſſel paſſed over his diſk, like a dark ſpeck.

We were ſoon after cheered by the faintly ſeen coaſt of England, but at the ſame time diſcovered, nearer to us on the ſouth-weſt, the high blue headlands of Calais; and, more eaſtward, the town, with its large church and the ſteeples of two others, ſeated on the edge of the ſea. The woods, that fringe the ſummits of hills riſing over it, were eaſily diſtinguiſhed with glaſſes, as well as the national flag on the ſteeple of the great church. As we pro⯑ceeded, Calais cliffs, at a conſiderable diſtance weſtward of the town, loſt their aërial blue, and ſhewed an high front of chalky pre⯑cipice, overtopped by dark downs. Beyond, far to the ſouth-weſt, and at the foot of a bold promontory, that ſwelled above all the neighbouring heights, our glaſſes gave us the towers and ramparts [369] of Boulogne, ſloping upward from the ſhore, with its tall lighthouſe on a low point running out into the ſea; the whole appearing with conſiderable dignity and pictureſque effect. The hills beyond were tamer, and ſunk gradually away in the horizon. At length, the breeze wafting us more to the north, we diſcriminated the bolder features of the Engliſh coaſt, and, about noon, found ourſelves nearly in the middle of the channel, having Picardy on our left and Kent on the right, its white cliffs aſpiring with great majeſty over the flood. The ſweeping bay of Dover, with all its chalky heights, ſoon after opened. The town appeared low on the ſhore within, and the caſtle, with round and maſſy towers, crowned the vaſt rock, which, advancing into the ſea, formed the eaſtern point of the creſcent, while Shakeſpeare's cliff, bolder ſtill and ſublime as the eter⯑nal name it bears, was the weſtern promontory of the bay. The height and grandeur of this cliff were particularly ſtriking, when a ſhip was ſeen ſailing at its baſe, diminiſhed by compariſon to an inch. From hence the cliffs towards Folkſtone, though ſtill broken and majeſtic, gradually decline. There are, perhaps, few proſpects of ſea and ſhore more animated and magniſicent than this. The vaſt expanſe of water, the character of the cliffs, that guard the coaſt, the ſhips of war and various merchantmen moored in the Downs, the lighter veſſels ſkimming along the channel, and the now diſtant ſhore of France, with Calais glimmering faintly, and hint⯑ing of different modes of life and a new world, all theſe circum⯑ſtances formed a ſcene of pre-eminent combination, and led to in⯑tereſting reflection.

[370] Our veſſel was bound to Deal, and, leaving Dover and its cliffs on the ſouth, we entered that noble bay, which the rich ſhores of Kent open for the ſea. Gentle hills, ſwelling all round from the water, green with woods, or cultivation, and ſpeckled with towns and villages, with now and then the towers of an old fortreſs, offered a landſcape particularly cheering to eyes accuſtomed to the mono⯑tonous flatneſs of Dutch views. And we landed in England under impreſſions of delight more varied and ſtrong than can be conceived, without referring to the joy of an eſcape from diſtricts where there was ſcarcely an home for the natives, and to the love of our own country, greatly enhanced by all that had been ſeen of others.

Between Deal and London, after being firſt ſtruck by the ſuperior appearance and manners of the people to thoſe of the countries we had been lately accuſtomed to, a contraſt too obvious as well as too often remarked to be again inſiſted upon, but which made all the ordinary circumſtances of the journey ſeem new and delightful, the different between the landſcapes of England and Germany occurred forcibly to notice. The large ſcale, in which every diviſion of land appeared in Germany, the long corn grounds, the huge ſtretches of hills, the vaſt plains and the wide vallies could not but be beautifully oppoſed by the varieties and undulations of Engliſh ſurface, with gently ſwelling ſlopes, rich in verdure, thick incloſures, woods, bowery hop grounds, ſheltered manſions, announcing the wealth, and ſub⯑ſtantial farms, with neat villages, the comfort of the country. Eng⯑liſh [371] landſcape may be compared to cabinet pictures, delicately beautiful and highly finiſhed; German ſcenery to paintings for a veſtibule, of bold outline and often ſublime, but coarſe and to be viewed with advantage only from a diſtance.

Northward, beyond London, we may make one ſtop, after a country, not otherwiſe neceſſary to be noticed, to mention Hard⯑wick, in Derbyſhire, a ſeat of the Duke of Devonſhire, once the reſidence of the Earl of Shrewſbury, to whom Elizabeth deputed the cuſtody of the unfortunate Mary. It ſtands on an eaſy height, a few miles to the left of the road from Mansfield to Cheſterfield, and is approached through ſhady lanes, which conceal the view of it, till you are on the confines of the park. Three towers of hoary grey then riſe with great majeſty among old woods, and their ſum⯑mits appear to be covered with the lightly ſhivered fragments of battlements, which, however, are ſoon diſcovered to be perfectly carved open work, in which the letters E. S. frequently occur under a coronet, the initials, and the memorials of the vanity, of Elizabeth, Counteſs of Shrewſbury, who built the preſent edifice. Its tall features, of a moſt pictureſque tint, were finely diſcloſed between the luxuriant woods and over the lawns of the park, which, every now and then, let in a glimpſe of the Derbyſhire hills. The ſcenery reminded us of the exquiſite deſcriptions of Harewood,

and thoſe of Hardwick once veiled a form as lovely as the ideal [372] graces of the Poet, and conſpired to a fate more tragical than that, which Harewood witneſſed.

In front of the great gates of the caſtle court, the ground, adorned by old oaks, ſuddenly ſinks to a darkly ſhadowed glade, and the view opens over the vale of Scarſdale, bounded by the wild moun⯑tains of the Peak. Immediately to the left of the preſent reſidence, ſome ruined features of the antient one, enwreathed with the rich dra⯑pery of ivy, give an intereſt to the ſcene, which the later, but more hiſtorical ſtructure heightens and prolongs. We followed, not with⯑out emotion, the walk, which Mary had ſo often trodden, to the fold⯑ing doors of the great hall, whoſe lofty grandeur, aided by ſilence and ſeen under the influence of a lowering ſky, ſuited the temper of the whole ſcene. The tall windows, which half ſubdue the light they admit, juſt allowed us to diſtinguiſh the large figures in the tapeſtry, above the oak wainſcoting, and ſhewed a colonnade of oak ſupporting a gallery along the bottom of the hall, with a pair of gigantic elk's horns flouriſhing between the windows oppoſite to the entrance. The ſcene of Mary's arrival and her feelings upon entering this ſolemn ſhade came involuntarily to the mind; the noiſe of horſes' feet and many voices from the court; her proud yet gentle and melancholy look, as, led by my Lord Keeper, ſhe paſſed ſlowly up the hall; his ſomewhat obſequious, yet jealous and vigilant air, while, awed by her dignity and beauty, he remembers the terrors of his own Queen; the ſilence and anxiety of her maids, and the buſtle of the ſurrounding attendants.

[373] From the hall a ſtair-caſe aſcends to the gallery of a ſmall chapel, in which the chairs and cuſhions, uſed by Mary, ſtill remain, and proceeds to the firſt ſtory, where only one apartment bears memo⯑rials of her impriſonment, the bed, tapeſtry and chairs having been worked by herſelf. This tapeſtry is richly emboſſed with emble⯑matic figures, each with its title worked above it, and, having been ſcrupulouſly preſerved, is ſtill entire and freſh.

Over the chimney of an adjoining dining-room, to which, as well as to other apartments on this floor, ſome modern furniture has been added, is this motto carved in oak:

So much leſs valuable was timber than workmanſhip, when this manſion was conſtructed, that, where the ſtair-caſes are not of ſtone, they are formed of ſolid oaken ſteps, inſtead of planks; ſuch is that from the ſecond, or ſtate ſtory to the roof, whence, on clear days, York and Lincoln Cathedrals are ſaid to be included in the exten⯑ſive proſpect. This ſecond floor is that, which gives its chief intereſt to the edifice. Nearly all the apartments of it were allotted to Mary; ſome of them for ſtate purpoſes; and the furniture is known by other proofs, than its appearance, to remain as ſhe left it. The chief room, or that of audience, is of uncommon loftineſs, and ſtrikes by its grandeur, before the veneration and tenderneſs ariſe, which its antiquities, and the plainly told tale of the ſufferings they witneſſed, excite.

[374] The walls, which are covered to a conſiderable height with tapeſtry, are painted above with hiſtorical groups. The chairs are of black velvet, nearly concealed by a raiſed needlework of gold, ſilver and colours, that mingle with ſurpriſing richneſs, and remain in freſh preſerva⯑tion. The upper end of the room is diſtinguiſhed by a lofty canopy of the ſame materials, and by ſteps which ſupport two chairs; ſo that the Earl and Counteſs of Shrewſbury probably enjoyed their own ſtatelineſs here, as well as aſſiſted in the ceremonies practiſed before Mary. A carpeted table, in front of the canopy, was, perhaps, the deſk of Commiſſioners, or Secretaries, who here recorded ſome of the proceedings concerning her; below which, the room breaks into a ſpacious receſs, where a few articles of furniture are depoſited, not originally placed in it; a bed of ſtate, uſed by Mary, the cur⯑tains of gold tiſſue, but in ſo tattered a condition, that its orginal tex⯑ture can ſcarcely be perceived. This and the chairs, which accom⯑pany it, are ſuppoſed to have been much earlier than Mary's time.

A ſhort paſſage leads from the ſtate apartment to her own cham⯑ber, a ſmall room, overlooked from the paſſage by a window, which enabled her attendants to know, that ſhe was contriving no means of eſcape through the others into the court. The bed and chairs of this room are of black velvet, embroidered by herſelf; the toilet of gold tiſſue; all more decayed than worn, and probably uſed only towards the concluſion of her impriſonment here, when ſhe was removed from ſome better apartment, in which the antient bed, now in the ſtate-room, had been placed. The date 1599 is once or twice [375] inſcribed in this chamber; for no reaſon, that could relate to Mary, who was removed hence in 1584, and fell, by the often-blooded hands of Elizabeth, in 1587.

Theſe are the apartments, diſtinguiſhed by having been the reſi⯑dence of ſo unhappy a perſonage. On the other ſide of the manſion, a grand gallery occupies the length of the whole front, which is 165 feet, and contains many portraits, now placed careleſsly on chairs, or the floor; amongſt them an head of Sir Thomas More, apparently very fine; heads of Henries the Fourth, Seventh and Eighth; a por⯑trait of Lady Jane Gray, meek and fair, before a harpſichord, on which pſalm-book is opened; at the bottom of the gallery, Eliza⯑beth, ſlyly proud and meanly violent; and, at the top, Mary, in black, taken a ſhort time before her death, her countenance much faded, deeply marked by indignation and grief, and reduced as if to the ſpectre of herſelf, frowning with ſuſpicion upon all who approached it; the black eyes looking out from their corners, thin lips, ſomewhat aquiline noſe and beautiful chin.

What remains of the more antient building is a ruin, which, ſtanding nearly on the brink of the glade, is a fine object from this. A few apartments, though approached with difficulty through the fragments of others, are ſtill almoſt entire, and the dimenſions of that called the Giant's Chamber are remarkable for the beauty of their proportion.

From Hardwick to within a few miles of Middleton, the beauty of the country declines, while the ſublimity is not perfected; but, [376] from the north-weſt brow of Brampton Moor, the vaſt hills of Der⯑byſhire appear in wild and ghaſtly ſucceſſion. Middleton, hewn out of the grey rocks, that impend over it, and ſcarcely diſtinguiſhable from them, is worth notice for its very ſmall and neat octagon church, built partly by brief and partly by a donation from the Duke of Devonſhire. The valley, or rather chaſm, at the entrance of which it ſtands, is called Middleton Dale, and runs, for two miles, between perpendicular walls of rock, which have more the appearance of having been torn aſunder by ſome convulſive rent of the earth, than any we have elſewhere ſeen. The ſtrata are horizontal, and the edges of each are often diſtinct and rounded; one of the characteriſtics of granite. Three grey rocks, reſembling caſtles, project from theſe ſolid walls, and, now and then, a lime-kiln, round like a baſtion, half in⯑volves in ſmoke a figure, who, ſtanding on the ſummit, looks the Witch of the Dale, on an edge of her cauldron, watching the work⯑ings of incantation.

The chaſm opened, at length, to a hill, whence wild mooriſh mountains were ſeen on all ſides, ſome entirely covered with the dull purple of heath, others green, but without encloſures, except ſometimes a ſtone wall, and the dark ſides of others marked only by the blue ſmoke of weeds, driven in circles near the ground.

Towards ſun-ſet, from a hill in Cheſhire, we had a vaſt view over part of that county and nearly all Lancaſhire, a ſcene of fertile plains and gentle heights, till ſome broad and towering mountains, at an [377] immenſe diſtance, were but uncertainly diſtinguiſhed from the clouds. Soon after, the cheerful populouſneſs of the rich towns and villages in Lancaſhire ſupplied objects for attention of a different character; Stockport firſt, crowded with buildings and people, as much ſo as ſome of the buſieſt quarters in London, with large blazing fires in every houſe, by the light of which women were frequently ſpinning, and manufacturers iſſuing from their workſhops and filling the ſteep ſtreets, which the chaiſe rolled down with dangerous rapidity; then an almoſt continued ſtreet of villages to Mancheſter, ſome miles before which the road was buſy with paſſengers and carriages, as well as bordered by handſome country houſes; and, finally for this day, Mancheſter itſelf; a ſecond London; enormous to thoſe, who have not ſeen the firſt, almoſt tumultuous with buſineſs, and yet well proved to afford the neceſſary peacefulneſs to ſcience, letters and taſte. And not only for itſelf may Mancheſter be an object of admiration, but for the contraſt of its uſeful profits to the wealth of a neighbour⯑ing place, immerſed in the dreadful guilt of the Slave Trade, with the continuance of which to believe national proſperity compatible, is to hope, that the actions of nations paſs unſeen before the Almighty, or to ſuppoſe extenuation of crimes by increaſe of criminality, and that the eternal laws of right and truth, which ſmite the wickedneſs of individuals, are too weak to ſtruggle with the accumulated and com⯑prehenſive guilt of a national participation in robbery, cruelty and murder.

From Mancheſter to Lancaſter the road leads through a pleaſant [378] and populous country, which riſes gradually as it approaches the huge hills we had noticed in the diſtance from the brow of Cheſhire, and whoſe attitudes now reſembled thoſe of the Rheingau as ſeen from Mentz. From ſome moors on this ſide of Lancaſter the proſpects open very extenſively over a rich tract fading into blue ridges; while, on the left, long lines of diſtant ſea appear, every now and then, over the dark woods of the ſhore, with veſſels ſailing as if on their ſummits. But the view from a hill deſcending to Lancaſter is pre-eminent for grandeur, and comprehends an extent of ſea and land, and a union of the ſublime in both, which we have never ſeen equalled. In the green vale of the Lune below lies the town, ſpread⯑ing up the ſide of a round hill overtopped by the old towers of the caſtle and the church. Beyond, over a ridge of gentle heights, which bind the weſt ſide of the vale, the noble inlet of the ſea, that flows upon the Ulverſton and Lancaſter ſands, is ſeen at the feet of an amphi⯑theatre formed by nearly all the mountains of the Lakes; an exhibi⯑tion of alpine grandeur, both in form and colouring, which, with the extent of water below, compoſe a ſcenery perhaps faintly rivalling that of the Lake of Geneva. To the ſouth and weſt, the Iriſh Chan⯑nel finiſhes the view.

The antient town and caſtle of Lancaſter have been ſo often and ſo well deſcribed, that little remains to be ſaid of them. To the lat⯑ter conſiderable additions are building in the Gothic ſtyle, which, when time ſhall have ſhaded the ſtone, will harmonize well with the venerable towers and gate-houſe of the old ſtructure. From a turret [379] riſing over the leads of the caſtle, called John o' Gaunt's Chair, the proſpect is ſtill finer than from the terrace of the church-yard below. Overlooking the Lune and its green ſlopes, the eye ranges to the bay of the ſea beyond, and to the Cumberland and Lancaſhire mountains. On an iſland near the extremity of the peninſula of Low Furneſs, the double point of Peel Caſtle ſtarts up from the ſea, but is ſo diſtant that it reſembles a forked rock. This peninſula, which ſeparates the bay of Ulverſton from the Iriſh Channel, ſwells gradually into a pointed mountain called Blackcomb, thirty miles from Lancaſter, the firſt in the amphitheatre, that binds the bay. Hence a range of lower, but more broken and forked ſummits, extends northward to the fells of High Furneſs, rolled behind each other, huge, towering and dark; then, higher ſtill, Langdale Pikes, with a confuſion of other fells, that crown the head of Windermere and retire towards Keſwick, whoſe gigantic mountains, Helvelyn and Saddleback, are, however, ſunk in diſtance below the horizon of the nearer ones. The top of Skiddaw may be diſcerned when the air is clear, but it is too far off to appear with dignity. From Windermere-Fells the heights ſoften towards the Vale of Lonſdale, on the eaſt ſide of which Ingleborough, a mountain in Craven, rears his rugged front, the loftieſt and moſt majeſtic in the ſcene. The nearer country, from this point of the landſcape, is interſected with cultivated hills, between which the Lune winds its bright but ſhallow ſtream, falling over a weir and paſſing under a very handſome ſtone bridge at the entrance of the town, in its progreſs towards the ſea. A ridge of rocky eminences ſhelters [380] Lancaſter on the eaſt, whence they decline into the low and unin⯑tereſting country, that ſtretches to the Channel.

The appearance of the northern Fells is ever changing with the weather and ſhifting lights. Sometimes they reſemble thoſe evening clouds on the horizon, that catch the laſt gleams of the ſun; at others, wrapt in dark miſt, they are only faintly traced, and ſeem like ſtormy vapours riſing from the ſea. But in a bright day their appearance is beautiful; then, their grand outlines are diſtinctly drawn upon the ſky, a viſion of Alps; the rugged ſides are faintly marked with light and ſhadow, with wood and rock, and here and there a cluſter of white cottages, or farms and hamlets, gleam at their feet along the water's edge. Over the whole landſcape is then drawn a ſoftening azure, or ſometimes a purple hue, exquiſitely lovely, while the ſea below reflects a brighter tint of blue.

FROM LANCASTER TO KENDAL.

LEAVING Lancaſter, we wound along the ſouthern brow of the vale of the Lune, which there ſerpentizes among meadows, and is ſoon after ſhut up between ſteep ſhrubby banks. From the heights we had ſome fine retroſpects of Lancaſter and the diſtant ſea; but, about three miles from the town, the hills open forward to a view as much diſtinguiſhed by the notice of Mr. GRAY, as by its own charms. We here looked down over a woody and finely broken fore-ground upon the Lune and the vale of Lonſdale, undulating in richly cultivated ſlopes, with Ingleborough, for the back-ground, bearing its bold promontory on high, the very crown and paragon of the landſcape. To the weſt, the vale winds from ſight among ſmoother hills; and the gracefully falling line of a moun⯑tain, on the left, forms, with the wooded heights, on the right, a kind of frame for the diſtant picture.

The road now turned into the ſweetly retired vale of Caton, and by the village church-yard, in which there is not a ſingle grave⯑ſtone, to Hornby, a ſmall ſtraggling town, delightfully ſeated near the entrance of the vale of Lonſdale. Its thin toppling caſtle is ſeen among wood, at a conſiderable diſtance, with a dark hill riſing over it. What remains of the old edifice is a ſquare grey building, with a ſlender watch-tower, riſing in one corner, like a feather in a hat, [382] which joins the modern manſion of white ſtone, and gives it a ſingu⯑lar appearance, by ſeeming to ſtart from the centre of its roof.

In front, a ſteep lawn deſcends between avenues of old wood, and the park extends along the ſkirts of the craggy hill, that towers above. At its foot, is a good ſtone bridge over the Wenning, now ſhrunk in its pebbly bed, and, further on, near the caſtle, the church, ſhewing a handſome octagonal tower, crowned with battlements. The road then becomes extremely intereſting, and, at Melling, a village on a brow ſome miles further, the view opens over the whole vale of Lonſdale. The eye now paſſes, beneath the arching foliage of ſome trees in the fore-ground, to the ſweeping valley, where mea⯑dows of the moſt vivid green and dark woods, with white cottages and villages peeping from among them, mingle with ſurpriſing rich⯑neſs, and undulate from either bank of the Lune to the feet of hills. Ingleborough, riſing from elegantly ſwelling ground, over⯑looked this enchanting vale, on the right, clouds rolling along its broken top, like ſmoke from a cauldron, and its hoary tint forming a boundary to the ſoft verdure and rich woodlands of the ſlopes, at its feet. The perſpective was terminated by the tall peeping heads of the Weſtmoreland fells, the nearer ones tinged with fainteſt purple, the more diſtant with light azure; and this is the general boundary to a ſcene, in the midſt of which, encloſed between nearer and lower hills, lies the vale of Lonſdale, of a character mild, delicate and repoſing, like the countenance of a Madona.

Deſcending Melling brow, and winding among the perpetually-[383]changing ſcenery of the valley, we approached Ingleborough; and it was intereſting to obſerve the lines of its bolder features gradually ſtrengthening, and the ſhadowy markings of its minuter ones becom⯑ing more diſtinct, as we advanced. Rock and grey crags looked out from the heath, on every ſide; but its form on each was very dif⯑ferent. Towards Lonſdale, the mountain is bold and majeſtic, riſing in abrupt and broken precipices, and often impending, till, at the ſummit, it ſuddenly becomes flat, and is level for nearly a mile, whence it deſcends, in a long gradual ridge, to Craven in Yorkſhire. In ſummer, ſome feſtivities are annually celebrated on this top, and the country people, as they ‘"drink the freſhneſs of the mountain breeze^*,"’ look over the wild moorlands of Yorkſhire, the rich vales of Lancaſhire, and to the ſublime mountains of Weſtmoreland.

Croſſing a ſmall bridge, we turned from Ingleborough, and paſſed very near the antient walls of Thirlham Caſtle, little of which is now remaining. The ruin is on a green broken knoll, one ſide of which is darkened with bruſh-wood and dwarf-oak. Cattle were repoſing in the ſhade, on the bank of a rivulet, that rippled through what was formerly the caſtle ditch. A few old trees waved over what was once a tower, now covered with ivy.

Some miles further, we croſſed the Leck, a ſhrunk and deſolate ſtream, nearly choked with pebbles, winding in a deep rocky glen, where trees and ſhrubs marked the winter boundary of the waters. Our road, mounting a green eminence of the oppoſite bank, on [384] which ſtands Overborough, the handſome modern manſion of Mr. FENWICK, wound between plantations and meadows, painted with yellow and purple flowers, like thoſe of ſpring. As we paſſed through their gentle ſlopes, we had, now and then, ſweet views between the foliage, on the left, into the vale of Lonſdale, now con⯑tracting in its courſe, and winding into ruder ſcenery. Among theſe catches, the beſt picture was, perhaps, where the white town of Kirby Lonſdale ſhelves along the oppoſite bank, having rough heathy hills immediately above it, and, below, a venerable Gothic bridge over the Lune, riſing in tall arches, like an antient aqueduct; its grey tint agreeing well with the ſilvery lightneſs of the water and the green ſhades, that flouriſhed from the ſteep margin over the abutments.

The view from this bridge, too, was beautiful. The river, foam⯑ing below among maſſes of dark rock, variegated with light tints of grey, as if touched by the painter's pencil, withdrew towards the ſouth in a ſtraight channel, with the woods of Overborough on the left. The vale, dilating, opened a long perſpective to Ingleborough and many blue mountains more diſtant, with all the little villages we had paſſed, glittering on the intervening eminences. The colouring of ſome low hills, on the right, was particularly beautiful, long ſhades of wood being overtopped with brown heath, while, below, meadows of ſoft verdure fell gently towards the river bank.

Kirby Lonſdale, a neat little town, commanding the whole vale, is on the weſtern ſteep. We ſtaid two hours at it, gratified by wit⯑neſſing, at the firſt inn we reached, the abundance of the country [385] and the goodwill of the people. In times, when the prices of neceſ⯑ſary articles are increaſing with the taſte for all unneceſſary diſplay, inſtances of cheapneſs may be to perſons of ſmall incomes ſomething more than mere phyſical treaſures; they have a moral value in con⯑tributing to independence of mind.

Here we had an early and, as it afterwards appeared, a very exag⯑gerated ſpecimen of the dialect of the country. A woman talked, for five minutes, againſt our window, of whoſe converſation we could underſtand ſcarcely a word. Soon after, a boy replied to a queſtion, ‘"I do na ken,"’ and ‘"gang"’ was preſently the common word for go; ſymptoms of nearneſs to a country, which we did not approach, without delighting to enumerate the inſtances of genius and worth, that adorn it.

Leaving Kirby-Lonſdale by the Kendal road, we mounted a ſteep hill, and, looking back from its ſummit upon the whole vale of Lonſdale, perceived ourſelves to be in the mid-way between beauty and deſolation, ſo enchanting was the retroſpect and ſo wild and dreary the proſpect. From the neighbourhood of Caton to Kirby the ride was ſuperior, for elegant beauty, to any we had paſſed; this from Kirby to Kendal is of a character diſtinctly oppoſite. After loſing ſight of the vale, the road lies, for nearly the whole diſtance, over moors and perpetually ſucceeding hills, thinly covered with dark purple heath flowers, of which the moſt diſtant ſeemed black. The drearineſs of the ſcene was increaſed by a heavy rain and by [386] the flowneſs of our progreſs, joſtling amongſt coal carts, for ten miles of rugged ground. The views over the Weſtmoreland moun⯑tains were, however, not entirely obſcured; their vaſt ridges were viſible in the horizon to the north and weſt, line over line, fre⯑quently in five or ſix ranges. Sometimes the interſecting moun⯑tains opened to others beyond, that fell in deep and abrupt preci⯑pices, their profiles drawing towards a point below and ſeeming to ſink in a bottomleſs abyſs.

On our way over theſe wilds, parts of which are called Endmoor and Cowbrows, we overtook only long trains of coal carts, and, after ten miles of bleak mountain road, began to deſire a temporary home, ſomewhat ſooner than we perceived Kendal, white-ſmoking in the dark vale. As we approached, the outlines of its ruinous caſtle were juſt diſtinguiſhable through the gloom, ſcattered in maſſes over the top of a ſmall round hill, on the right. At the entrance of the town, the river Kent daſhed in foam down a weir; beyond it, on a green ſlope, the gothic tower of the church was half hid by a cluſter of dark trees; gray fells glimmered in the diſtance.

We were lodged at another excellent inn, and, the next morn⯑ing, walked over the town, which has an air of trade mingled with that of antiquity. Its hiſtory has been given in other places, and we are not able to diſcuſs the doubt, whether it was the Roman Broca⯑nonacio, or not. The manufacture of cloth, which our ſtatute books [387] teſtify to have exiſted as early as the reign, in which Falſtaff is made to allude to it, appears to be ſtill in vigour, for the town is ſurrounded, towards the river, with dying grounds. We ſaw, how⯑ever, no ſhades of ‘"Kendal green,"’ or, indeed, any but bright ſcarlet.

The church is remarkable for three chapels, memorials of the an⯑tient dignity of three neighbouring families, the Bellinghams, Strick⯑lands and Parrs. Theſe are incloſures, on each ſide of the altar, differing from pews chiefly in being large enough to contain tombs. Mr. Gray noticed them minutely in the year 1769. They were then probably entire; but the wainſcot or railing, which divided the chapel of the Parrs from the aiſle, is now gone. Of two ſtone tombs in it one is incloſed with modern railing, and there are many remnants of painted arms on the adjoining windows. The chapel of the Stricklands, which is between this and the altar, is ſeparated from the church aiſle by a ſolid wainſcot, to the height of four feet, and after that by a wooden railing with broken fillagree ornaments. That of the Bellinghams contains an antient tomb, of which the braſs plates, that bore inſcriptions and arms, are now gone, but ſome traces of the latter remain in plaiſtered ſtone at the ſide. Over it, are the fragments of an helmet, and, in the roof, thoſe of armorial bearings, carved in wood. On a pillar, near this, is an inſcrip⯑tion, almoſt obliterated, in which the following words may yet be traced:

The Saxon has been ſo ſtrongly engrafted on our language, that, in reading old inſcriptions, eſpecially thoſe, which are likely to have been ſpelt, according to the pronunciation, one is frequently re⯑minded by antient Engliſh words of the modern German ſynonyms. A German of the preſent day would ſay for eleven, eilf, pronounced long like eilve, and for five, funf, pronounced like fuynf.

Over the chief ſeat in the old pew of the Bellinghams is a braſs plate, engraved with the figure of a man in armour, and, on each ſide of it, a braſs eſcutcheon, of which that on the right has a motto thus ſpelled Ains. y L'eſt. Under the figure is the following inſcrip⯑tion, alſo cut in braſs:‘Heer lyeth the bodye of Alan Bellingham eſquier
who maryed Catheryan daughter of Anthonye
Ducket eſquier by whom he had no children
after whoſe deceaſe he maryed Dorothie daughter
of Thomas Sanford eſquier of whom he had —
ſonnes & eight daughters, of which five ſonnes & 7
daughters with the ſaid Dorothie ar yeat lyving, he
was threſcore and one yares of age & dyed y^e 7 of Maye
Ao dni 1577.’

[389] The correctneſs of inſerting the unpronounced conſonants in the words Eight and Daughters, notwithſtanding the varieties of the other orthography in this inſcription, is a proof of the univerſality of the Saxon mode of ſpelling, with great abundance and even waſte of letters; a mode, which is ſo incorporated with our language, that thoſe, who are for diſpenſing with it in ſome inſtances, as in the final k in ‘"publick"’ and other words, ſhould conſider what a general change they have to effect, or what partial incongruities they muſt ſubmit to.

Kendal is built on the lower ſteeps of a hill, that towers over the principal ſtreet, and bears on one of its brows a teſtimony to the independence of the inhabitants, an obeliſk dedicated to liberty and to the memory of the Revolution in 1688. At a time, when the memory of that revolution is reviled, and the praiſes of liberty itſelf endea⯑voured to be ſuppreſſed by the artifice of imputing to it the crimes of anarchy, it was impoſſible to omit any act of veneration to the bleſſings of this event. Being thus led to aſcend the hill, we had a view of the country, over which it preſides; a ſcene ſimple, great and free as the ſpirit revered amidſt it.

FROM KENDAL TO BAMPTON AND HAWES WATER.

OF two roads from Kendal to Bampton one is through Long Sleddale, the other over Shapfell, the king of the Weſtmoreland mountains; of which routes the laſt is the moſt intereſting for ſimple ſublimity, leading through the heart of the wildeſt tracts and open⯑ing to ſuch vaſt highland ſcenery as even Derbyſhire cannot ſhew. We left Kendal by this road, and from a very old, ruinous bridge had a full view of the caſtle, ſtretching its dark walls and broken towers round the head of a green hill, to the ſouthward of the town. Theſe reliques are, however, too far ſeparated by the decay of large maſſes of the original edifice, and contain little that is individually pictureſque.

The road now lay through ſhady lanes and over undulating, but gradually aſcending ground, from whence were pleaſant views of the valley, with now and then a break in the hills, on the left, open⯑ing to a glimpſe of the diſtant fells towards Windermere, gray and of more pointed form than any we had yet ſeen; for hitherto the mountains, though of huge outline, were not ſo broken, or alpine in their ſummits as to ſtrike the fancy with ſurprize. After about three miles, a very ſteep hill ſhuts up the vale to the North, and from a gray rock, near the ſummit, called Stone-cragg, the proſpect opens over the vale of Kendal with great dignity and beauty. Its [391] form from hence ſeems nearly circular; the hills ſpread round it, and ſweep with eaſy lines into the bottom, green nearly to their ſummits, where no fantaſtic points bend over it, though rock frequently mingles with the heath. The caſtle, or its low green hill, looked well, nearly in the centre of the landſcape, with Kendal and its moun⯑tain, on the right. Far to the ſouth, were the groves of Leven's park, almoſt the only wood in the ſcene, and, over the heights beyond, blue hills bounded the horizon. On the weſt, an opening in the near ſteeps diſcovered cluſters of huge and broken fells, while other breaks, on the eaſt, ſhewed long ridges ſtretching towards the ſouth. Nearer us and to the northward, the hills roſe dark and awful, crowding over and interſecting each other in long and abrupt lines, heath and crag their only furniture.

The rough knolls around us and the dark mountain above gave force to the verdant beauty and tranquillity of the vale below, and ſeemed eſpecially to ſhelter from the ſtorms of the north ſome white farms and cottages, ſcattered among encloſures in the hollows. Soon after reaching the ſummit of the mountain itſelf

and we looked down on the left into Long Sleddale, a little ſcene of exquiſite beauty, ſurrounded with images of greatneſs. This narrow vale, or glen, ſhewed a level of the brighteſt verdure, with a few cot⯑tages ſcattered among groves, encloſed by dark fells, that roſe ſteeply, [392] yet gracefully, and, at their ſummits, bent forward in maſſes of ſhat⯑tered rock. An hugely pointed mountain, called Keintmoor-head, ſhuts up this ſweet ſcene to the north, riſing in a ſudden precipice from the vale, and heightening, by barren and gloomy ſteeps, the miniature beauty, that glowed at its feet. Two mountains, called Whiteſide and Potter's-fell, ſcreen the perſpective; Stone-crag is at the ſouthern end, fronting Keintmoor-head. The vale, ſeen beyond the broken ground we were upon, formed a landſcape of, perhaps, unexampled variety and grace of colouring; the tender green of the lowland, the darker verdure of the woods aſcending the mountains, the brown rough heath above them, and the impending crags over all, exhibit their numerous ſhades, within a ſpace not more than two miles long, or half a mile in breadth.

From the right of our road another valley extended, whoſe cha⯑racter is that of ſimple ſublimity, unmixed with any tint of beauty. The vaſt, yet narrow perſpective ſweeps in ridges of mountains, huge, barren and brown, point beyond point, the higheſt of which, Howgill-fell, gives its name to the whole diſtrict, in which not a wood, a village, or a farm appeared to cheer the long viſta. A ſhepherd boy told us the names of almoſt all the heights within the horizon, and we are ſorry not to have written them, for the names of moun⯑tains are ſeldom compounded of modern, or trivial denominations, and frequently are ſomewhat deſcriptive of their prototypes. He informed us alſo, that we ſhould go over eight miles of Shap-fell, without ſeeing a houſe; and ſoon after, at Haw's-foot, we took [393] leave of the laſt on the road, entering then a cloſe valley, ſurrounded by ſtupendous mountains of heath and rock, more towering and abrupt than thoſe, that had appeared in moorlands on the other ſide of Kendal. A ſtream, rolling in its rocky channel, and croſſing the road under a rude bridge, was all that broke the ſolitary ſilence, or gave animation to the view, except the flocks, that hung upon the preci⯑pices, and which, at that height, were ſcarcely diſtinguiſhable from the grey round ſtones, thickly ſtarting out from the heathy ſteeps. The Highlands of Scotland could ſcarcely have offered to OSSIAN more images of ſimple greatneſs, or more circumſtances for melan⯑choly inſpiration. Dark glens and fells, the moſſy ſtone, the lonely blaſt, deſcending on the valley, the roar of diſtant torrents every where occurred; and to the bard the ‘"ſong of ſpirits"’ would have ſwelled with theſe ſounds, and their fleeting forms have appeared in the clouds, that frequently floated along the mountain tops.

The road, now aſcending Shap-fell, alternately climbed the ſteeps and ſunk among the hollows of this ſovereign mountain, which gives its name to all the ſurrounding hills; and, during an aſcent of four miles, we watched every form and attitude of the features, which compoſed this vaſt ſcenery. Sometimes we looked from a precipice into deep vallies, varied only with ſhades of heath, with the rude ſummer hut of the ſhepherd, or by ſtreams accumulating into tor⯑rents; and, at others, caught long proſpects over high lands as huge and wild as the nearer ones, which partially intercepted them.

The flocks in this high region are ſo ſeldom diſturbed by the foot⯑ſteps [394] of man, that they have not learned to fear him; they continued to graze within a few feet of the carriage, or looked quietly at it, ſeeming to conſider theſe mountains as their own.

Near the ſummit of the road, though not of the hill, a retroſpec⯑tive glance gave us a long view over the fells, and of a rich diſtance towards Lancaſter, riſing into blue hills, which admitted glimpſes of ſparkling ſea in the bay beyond. This gay perſpective, lighted up by a gleam of ſunſhine, and viewed between the brown lines of the nearer mountains, ſhewed like the miniature painting of a landſcape, illuminated beyond a darkened fore-ground.

At the point of every ſteep, as we aſcended, the air ſeemed to become thinner, and, at the northern ſummit of Shap-fell, which we reached after nearly two hours' toil, the wind blew with piercing intenſeneſs, making it difficult to remain as long as was due to our admiration of the proſpect. The ſcene of mountains, which burſt upon us, can be compared only to the multitudinous waves of the ſea. On the northern, weſtern and eaſtern ſcope of the horizon roſe vaſt ridges of heights, their broken lines ſometimes appearing in ſeven or eight ſucceſſive ranges, though ſhewing nothing either fan⯑taſtic or peaked in their forms. The autumnal lights, gleaming on their ſides, or ſhadows ſweeping in dark lines along them, produced a very ſublime effect; while ſummits more remote were often miſty with the ſtreaming ſhower, and others glittered in the partial rays, or were coloured with the mild azure of diſtance. The greater tract of the intervening hills and Shap-fell itſelf were, at this time, darkened [395] with clouds, while Fancy, awed by the gloom, imaged the ge⯑nius of Weſtmoreland brooding over it and directing the ſcowling ſtorm.

A deſcent of nearly four miles brought us to Shap, a ſtraggling village, lying on the ſide of a bleak hill, feebly ſheltered by clumps of trees. Here, leaving the moorlands, we were glad to find our⯑ſelves again where ‘"bells have knolled to church,"’ and in the midſt of civilized, though ſimple life. After a ſhort reſt, at a cleanly little inn, we proceeded towards Bampton, a village five miles further in a vale, to which it gives its name, and one mile from Hawſwater, the lake, that invited us to it. As the road advanced, the ſells of this lake fronted it, and, cloſing over the ſouthern end of Bampton vale, were the moſt intereſting objects in the view. They were of a character very different from any yet ſeen; tall, rocky, and of more broken and pointed form. Among them was the high blue peak, called Kidſtow⯑pike; the broader ridge of Wallow-crag; a round and ſtill loftier mountain—Ikolm-moor, beyond, and, further yet, other ranges of peaked ſummits, that overlook Ullſwater.

In a hollow on the left of the road, called the Vale of Magdalene, are the ruins of Shap-abbey, built in the reign of John, of which little now appears except a tower with pointed windows. The ſitua⯑tion is deeply ſecluded, and the gloom of the ſurrounding mountains may have accorded well with monaſtic melancholy.

Proceeding towards Bampton we had a momentary peep into Hawſwater, ſunk deep among black and haggard rocks, and over⯑topped [396] by the towering fells before named, whoſe ſummits were involved in tempeſt, till the ſun, ſuddenly breaking out from under clouds, threw a watery gleam aſlant the broken top of Kidſtow⯑pike; and his rays, ſtruggling with the ſhower, produced a fine effect of light, oppoſed to the gloom, that wrapt Ickolm-moor and other huge mountains.

We ſoon after looked down from the heights of Bampton upon its open vale, checkered with corn and meadows, among which the ſlender Lowther wound its way from Hawſwater to the vale of Eden, croſſing that of Bampton to the north. The hills, enriched here and there with hanging woods and ſeats, were cultivated nearly to their ſummits, except where in the ſouth the rude heights of Hawſwater almoſt excluded the lake and ſhut up the valley. Immediately below us Bampton-grange lay along the ſkirt of the hill, and croſſed the Lowther, a grey, rambling and antient village, to which we de⯑ſcended among rough common, darkened by plantations of fir, and between corn encloſures.

The interruption, which incloſed waters and pathleſs mountains give to the intercourſe and buſineſs of ordinary life, renders the diſ⯑trict, that contains the lakes of Lancaſhire, Weſtmoreland and Cumberland, more thinly inhabited than is due to the healthineſs of the climate and, perhaps, to the richneſs of the vallies. The roads are always difficult from their ſteepneſs, and in winter are greatly obſtructed by ſnow. That over Shap-fell to Kendal was, ſome years ſince, entirely impaſſable, till the inhabitants of a few [397] ſcattered towns ſubſcribed thirty pounds, and a way was cut wide enough for one horſe, but ſo deep, that the ſnow was, on each ſide, above the rider's head. It is not in this age of communication and intelligence, that any perſon will be credulouſly eager to ſuppoſe the inhabitants of one part of the iſland conſiderably or generally diſtinguiſhed in their characters from thoſe of another; yet, per⯑haps, none can immerge themſelves in this country of the lakes, without being ſtruck by the ſuperior ſimplicity and modeſty of the people. Secluded from great towns and from examples of ſelfiſh ſplendour, their minds ſeem to act freely in the ſphere of their own affairs, without interruption from envy or triumph, as to thoſe of others. They are obliging, without ſervility, and plain but not rude, ſo that, when, in accoſting you, they omit the cuſtomary appellations, you perceive it to be the familiarity of kindneſs, not of diſreſpect; and they do not bend with meanneſs, or hypocriſy, but ſhew an inde⯑pendent well meaning, without obtruſiveneſs and without the hope of more than ordinary gain.

Their views of profit from ſtrangers are, indeed, more limited than we could have believed, before witneſſing it. The ſervants at the little inns confeſs themſelves by their manner of receiving what you give, to be almoſt as much ſurpriſed as pleaſed. A boy, who had opened four or five gates for us between Shap and Bampton, bluſhed when we called to him to have ſome halfpence; and it frequently happened, that perſons, who had looked at the harneſs, or rendered ſome little ſervices of that ſort on the road, paſſed on, before anything [398] could be offered them. The confuſion of others, on being paid, induced us to ſuppoſe, at firſt, that enough had not been given; but we were ſoon informed, that nothing was expected.

The inns, as here at Bampton, are frequently humble; and thoſe, who are diſpoſed to clamour for luxuries, as if there was a crime in not being able to ſupply them, may confound a ſimple people, and be themſelves greatly diſcontented, before they go. But thoſe, who will be ſatisfied with comforts, and think the experience of inte⯑grity, carefulneſs and goodwill is itſelf a luxury, will be glad to have ſtopped at Bampton and at ſeveral other little villages, where there is ſome ſort of preparation for travellers.

Nor is this ſecluded ſpot without proviſion for the mind. A be⯑neficed grammar ſchool receives the children of the inhabitants, and ſends, we believe, ſome to an Univerſity. Biſhop GIBSON received his education at it. Biſhop LAW, who was born at Bampton, went daily acroſs one, or two of the rudeſt fells on the lake to another ſchool, at Martindale; an exerciſe of no trifling fatigue, or reſo⯑lution; for among the things to be gained by ſeeing the lakes is a conception of the extreme wildneſs of their boundaries. You arrive with a notion, that you can and dare rove any where amongſt the mountains; and have only to ſee three to have the utmoſt terror of loſing your way.

The danger of wandering in theſe regions without a guide is increaſed by an uncertainty, as to the titles of heights; for the people of each village have a name for the part of a mountain neareſt [399] to themſelves, and they ſometimes call the whole by that name. The circumference of ſuch heights is alſo too vaſt, and the flexures too numerous to admit of great accuracy. Skiddaw, Saddleback and Helvellyn, may however, be certainly diſtinguiſhed. There are others, a paſſage over which would ſave, perhaps, eight or ten miles out of twenty, but which are ſo little known, except to the ſhepherds, that they are very rarely croſſed by travellers. We could not truſt to any perſon's knowledge of Harter-fell, beyond the head of Hawſwater.

HAWSWATER.

THIS is a lake, of which little has been mentioned, per⯑haps becauſe it is inferiour in ſize to the others, but which is diſtin⯑guiſhed by the ſolemn grandeur of its rocks and mountains, that riſe in very bold and awful characters. The water, about three miles long, and at the wideſt only half a mile over, nearly deſcribes the figure 8, being narrowed in the centre by the projecting ſhores; and, at this ſpot, it is ſaid to be fifty fathom deep.

Croſſing the meadows of Bampton vale and aſcending the oppo⯑ſite heights, we approached the fells of Hawſwater, and, having proceeded for a mile along the ſide of hills, the views over the vale and of the ſouthern mountains changing with almoſt every ſtep, the lake began to open between a very lofty ridge, covered with foreſt, and abrupt fells of heath, or naked rock. Soon after, we looked [400] upon the firſt expanſe of the lake. Its eaſtern ſhore, riſing in a tre⯑mendous ridge of rocks, darkened with wood to the ſummit, appears to terminate in Wallow-crag, a promontory of towering height, be⯑yond which the lake winds from view. The finely broken moun⯑tains on the weſt are covered with heath, and the tops impend in crags and precipices; but their aſcent from the water is leſs ſudden than that of the oppoſite rocks, and they are ſkirted by a narrow margin of vivid green, where cattle were feeding, and tufted ſhrubs and little groves overhung the lake and were reflected on its dark ſurface. Above, a very few white cottages among wood broke in upon the ſolitude; higher ſtill, the mountain-flocks were browſing, and above all, the narrow perſpective was cloſed by dark and mon⯑ſtrous ſummits.

As we wound along the bank, the rocks unfolded and diſcloſed the ſecond expanſe, with ſcenery yet more towering and ſublime than the firſt. This perſpective ſeemed to be terminated by the huge mountain called Caſtle-ſtreet; but, as we advanced, Harter-fell reared his awful front, impending over the water, and ſhut in the ſcene, where, amidſt rocks, and at the entrance of a glen almoſt choked by fragments from the heights, ſtands the chapel of Martin⯑dale, ſpoken by the country people Mardale. Among the fells of this dark proſpect are Lathale, Wilter-crag, Caſtle crag and Riggin⯑dale, their bold lines appearing beyond each other as they fell into the upper part of the lake, and ſome of them ſhewing only maſſes of ſhattered rock. Kidſtow-pike is pre-eminent among the crowding [401] ſummits beyond the eaſtern ſhore, and the clouds frequently ſpread their gloom over its point, or fall in ſhowers into the cup within; on the weſt High-ſtreet, which overlooks the head of Ullſwater, is the moſt dignified of the mountains.

Leaving the green margin of the lake, we aſcended to the Parſon⯑age, a low, white building on a knoll, ſheltered by the mountain and a grove of ſycamores, with a ſmall garden in front, falling towards the water. From the door we had a view of the whole lake and the ſurrounding fells, which the eminence we were upon was juſt raiſed enough to ſhew to advantage. Nearly oppoſite to it the bold pro⯑montory of Wallow-crag puſhed its baſe into the lake, where a penin⯑ſula advanced to meet it, ſpread with bright verdure, on which the hamlet of Martindale lay half concealed among a grove of oak, beech and ſycamore, whoſe tints contraſted with the darker one of the ſpiry ſpruce, or more clumped Engliſh ſir, and accorded ſweetly with the paſtoral green beneath. The ridge of precipices, that ſwept from Wallow-crag ſouthward, and formed a bay for the upper part of the lake, was deſpoiled of its foreſt; but that, which curved northward, was dark with dwarf-wood to the water's brim, and, opening diſtantly to Bampton vale, let in a gay miniature landſcape, bright in ſunſhine. Below, the lake reflected the gloom of the woods, and was ſometimes marked with long white lines, which, we were told, indicated bad weather; but, except when a ſudden guſt ſwept the ſurface, it gave back every image on the ſhore, as in a dark mirror.

[402] The interior of the Parſonage was as comfortable as the ſituation was intereſting. A neat parlour opened from the paſſage, but it was newly painted, and we were ſhewn into the family room, having a large old-faſhioned chimney corner, with benches to receive a ſocial party, and forming a moſt enviable retreat from the ſtorms of the mountains. Here, in the winter evening, a family circle, gathering round a blazing pile of wood on the hearth, might defy the weather and the world. It was delightful to picture ſuch a party, happy in their home, in the ſweet affections of kindred and in honeſt indepen⯑dence, converſing, working and reading occaſionally, while the blaſt was ſtruggling againſt the caſement and the ſnow pelting on the roof.

The ſeat of a long window, overlooking the lake, offered the delights of other ſeaſons; hence the luxuriance of ſummer and the colouring of autumn ſucceſſively ſpread their enchantments over the oppoſite woods, and the meadows that margined the water below; and a little garden of ſweets ſent up its fragrance to that of the honey⯑ſuckles, that twined round the window. Here, too, lay a ſtore of books, and, to inſtance that an inhabitant of this remote nook could not exclude an intereſt concerning the diſtant world, among them was a hiſtory of paſſing events. Alas! to what ſcenes, to what diſ⯑play of human paſſions and human ſuffering did it open! How oppoſite to the ſimplicity, the innocence and the peace of theſe!

The venerable father of the manſion was engaged in his duty at his chapel of Martindale, but we were hoſpitably received within, [403] and heard the next day how gladly he would have rendered any civi⯑lities to ſtrangers.

On leaving this enviable little reſidence, we purſued the ſteeps of the mountain behind it, and were ſoon amidſt the flocks and the crags, whence the look-down upon the lake and among the fells was ſolemn and ſurpriſing. About a quarter of a mile from the Par⯑ſonage, a torrent of ſome dignity ruſhed paſt us, foaming down a rocky chaſm in its way to the lake. Every where, little ſtreams of chryſtal clearneſs wandered ſilently among the moſs and turf, which half concealed their progreſs, or daſhed over the rocks; and, acroſs the largeſt, ſheep-bridges of flat ſtone were thrown, to prevent the flocks from being carried away in attempting to paſs them in winter. The grey ſtones, that grew among the heath, were ſpotted with moſſes of ſo fine a texture, that it was difficult to aſcertain whether they were vegetable; their tints were a delicate pea-green and prim⯑roſe, with a variety of colours, which it was not neceſſary to be a botaniſt to admire.

An hour, paſſed in aſcending, brought us to the brow of Bampton vale, which ſloped gently downward to the north, where it opened to lines of diſtant mountains, that extended far into the eaſt. The woods of Lowther-park capped two remote hills, and ſpread luxu⯑riantly down their ſides into the valley; and nearer, Bampton⯑grange lay at the baſe of a mountain, crowned with ſir plantations, over which, in a diſtant vale, we diſcovered the village of Shap and long ridges of the hig hland, paſſed on the preceding day.

[404] One of the fells we had juſt croſſed is called Blanaraſa, at the ſum⯑mit of which two grey ſtones, each about four feet high, and placed upright, at the diſtance of nine feet from each other, remain of four, which are remembered to have been formerly there. The place is ſtill called Four Stones; but tradition does not relate the deſign of the monument; whether to limit adjoining diſtricts, or to commemo⯑rate a battle, or a hero.

We deſcended gradually into the vale, among thickets of rough oaks, on the bank of a rivulet, which foamed in a deep channel beneath their foliage, and came to a glade ſo ſequeſtered and gloom⯑ily overſhadowed, that one almoſt expected to ſee the venerable arch of a ruin, peeping between the branches. It was the very ſpot, which the founder of a monaſtery might have choſen for his retire⯑ment, where the chantings of a choir might have mingled with the ſoothing murmur of the ſtream, and monks have glided beneath the ſolemn trees in garments ſcarcely diſtinguiſhable from the ſhades themſelves.

This glade, ſloping from the eye, opened under ſpreading oaks to a remote glimpſe of the vale, with blue hills in the diſtance; and on the graſſy hillocks of the fore-ground cattle were every where repoſing.

We returned, about ſunſet, to Bampton, after a walk of little more than four miles, which had exhibited a great variety of ſcenery, beau⯑tiful, romantic and ſublime. At the entrance of the village, the Low⯑ther and a nameleſs rivulet, that runs from Hawſwater, join their [405] waters; both ſtreams were now ſunk in their beds; but in winter they ſometimes contend for the conqueſt and ravage of the neigh⯑bouring plains. The waters have then riſen to the height of five or ſix feet in a meadow forty yards from their ſummer channels. In an incloſure of this vale was fought the laſt battle, or ſkirmiſh, with the Scots in Weſtmoreland; and it is within the telling of the ſons of great-grandfathers, that the conteſt continued, till the Scots were diſ⯑covered to fire only pebbles; the villagers had then the folly to cloſe with them and the ſucceſs to drive them away; but ſuch was the ſimplicity of the times, that it was called a victory to have made one priſoner. Stories of this ſort are not yet entirely forgotten in the deeply incloſed vales of Weſtmoreland and Cumberland, where the greater part of the preſent inhabitants can refer to an anceſtry of ſeveral centuries, on the ſame ſpot.

We thought Bampton, though a very ill-built village, an enviable ſpot; having a clergyman, as we heard, of exemplary manners, and, as one of us witneſſed, of a moſt faithful earneſtneſs in addreſſing his congregation in the church; being but ſlightly removed from one of the lakes, that accumulates in a ſmall ſpace many of the varie⯑ties and attractions of the others; and having the adjoining lands diſtributed, for the moſt part, into ſmall farms, ſo that, as it is not thought low to be without wealth, the poor do not acquire the offen⯑ſive and diſreputable habits, by which they are too often tempted to revenge, or reſiſt the oſtentation of the rich.

ULLS-WATER.

THE ride from Bampton to Ullſwater is very various and delightful. It winds for about three miles along the weſtern heights of this green and open vale, among embowered lanes, that alternately admit and exclude the paſtoral ſcenes below, and the fine landſcapes on the oppoſite hills, formed by the plantations and antient woods of Lowther-park. Theſe ſpread over a long tract, and mingle in ſweet variety with the lively verdure of lawns and mea⯑dows, that ſlope into the valley, and ſometimes appear in gleams among the dark thickets. The houſe, of white ſtone with red win⯑dow-caſes, emboſomed among the woods, has nothing in its appear⯑ance anſwerable to the ſurrounding grounds. Its ſituation and that of the park are exquiſitely happy, juſt where the vale of Bampton opens to that of Eden, and the long mountainous ridge and peak of Croſs-fell, aſpiring above them all, ſtretch before the eye; with the town of Penrith ſhelving along the ſide of a diſtant mountain, and its beacon on the ſummit; the ruins of its caſtle appearing diſtinctly at the ſame time, crowning a low round hill. The horizon to the north and the eaſt is bounded by lines of mountains, range above range, not romantic and ſurpriſing, but multitudinous and vaſt. Of theſe, Croſs-fell, ſaid to be the higheſt mountain in Cumberland, gives its name to the whole northern ridge, which in its full extent, [407] from the neighbourhood of Gillſland to that of Kirkby-Steven, is near fifty miles. This perſpective of the extenſive vale of Eden has grandeur and magnificence in as high a degree as that of Bampton has paſtoral beauty, cloſing in the gloomy ſolitudes of Hawſwater. The vale is finely wooded, and variegated with manſions, parks, meadow-land, corn, towns, villages, and all that make a diſtant land⯑ſcape rich. Among the peculiarities of it, are little mountains of alpine ſhape, that ſtart up like pyramids in the middle of the vale, ſome covered with wood, others barren and rocky. The ſcene per⯑haps only wants a river like the Rhine, or the Thames, to make it the very fineſt in England for union of grandeur, beauty and extent.

Oppoſite Lowther-hall, we gave a farewell look to the pleaſant vale of Bampton and its ſouthern fells, as the road, winding more to the weſt, led us over the high lands, that ſeparate it from the vale of Emont. Then, aſcending through ſhady lanes and among fields where the oat harveſt was gathering, we had enchanting retroſpects of the vale of Eden, ſpreading to the eaſt, with all its chain of moun⯑tains chequered by the autumnal ſhadows.

Soon after, the road brought us to the brows of Emont, a narrow well-wooded vale, the river, from which it takes its name, meander⯑ing through it from Ullſwater among paſtures and pleaſure-grounds, to meet the Lowther near Brougham Caſtle. Penrith and its caſtle and beacon look up the vale from the north, and the aſtoniſhing fells of Ullſwater cloſe upon it in the ſouth; while Delemain, the houſe and beautiful grounds of Mr. Haſſel, Hutton St. John, a vene⯑rable [408] old manſion, and the ſingle tower called Dacre-caſtle adorn the valley. But who can pauſe to admire the elegancies of art, when ſurrounded by the wonders of nature? The approach to this ſublime lake along the heights of Emont is exquiſitely intereſting; for the road, being ſhrouded by woods, allows the eye only partial glimpſes of the gigantic ſhapes, that are aſſembled in the diſtance, and, awakening high expectation, leaves the imagination, thus elevated, to paint the ‘"forms of things unſeen."’ Thus it was, when we caught a firſt view of the dark broken tops of the fells, that riſe round Ullſwater, of ſize and ſhape moſt huge, bold, and awful; overſpread with a blue myſterious tint, that ſeemed almoſt ſuper⯑natural, though according in gloom and ſublimity with the ſevere features it involved.

Further on, the mountains began to unfold themſelves; their out⯑lines, broken, abrupt and interſecting each other in innumerable di⯑rections, ſeemed, now and then, to fall back like a multitude at ſome ſupreme command, and permitted an oblique glimpſe into the deep vales. A cloſe lane then deſcended towards Pooly-bridge, where, at length, the lake itſelf appeared beyond the ſpreading branches, and, ſoon after, the firſt reach expanded before us, with all its mountains tumbled round it; rocky, ruinous and vaſt, impending, yet riſing in wild confuſion and multiplied points behind each other.

This view of the firſt reach from the foot of Dunmallet, a pointed woody hill, near Pooly-bridge, is one of the fineſt on the lake, which here ſpreads in a noble ſheet, near three miles long, and al⯑moſt [409] two miles broad, to the baſe of Thwaithill-nab, winding round which it diſappears, and the whole is then believed to be ſeen. The character of this view is nearly that of ſimple grandeur; the moun⯑tains, that impend over the ſhore in front, are peculiarly awful in their forms and attitudes; on the left, the fells ſoften; woodlands, and their paſtures, colour their lower declivities, and the water is margined with the tendereſt verdure, oppoſed to the dark woods and crags above. On the right, a green conical hill ſlopes to the ſhore, where cattle were repoſing on the graſs, or ſipping the clear wave; further, riſe the bolder rocks of Thwaithill-nab, where the lake diſappears, and, beyond, the dark precipices and ſummits of fells, that crown the ſecond reach.

Winding the foot of Dunmallet, the almoſt pyramidal hill, that ſhuts up this end of Ullſwater, and ſeparates it from the vale of Emont, we croſſed Barton bridge, where this little river, clear as cryſtal, iſſues from the lake, and through a cloſe paſs hurries over a rocky channel to the vale. Its woody ſteeps, the tufted iſland, that interrupts its ſtream, and the valley beyond, form altogether a picture in fine contraſt with the majeſty of Ullſwater, expanding on the other ſide of the bridge.

We followed the ſkirts of a ſmooth green hill, the lake, on the other hand, flowing ſoftly againſt the road and ſhewing every pebble on the beach beneath, and proceeded towards the ſecond bend; but ſoon mounted from the ſhore among the broken knolls of Dacre-com⯑mon, whence we had various views of the firſt reach, its ſcenery appear⯑ing [410] in darkened majeſty as the autumnal ſhadows ſwept over it. Sometimes, however, the rays, falling in gleams upon the water, gave it the fineſt ſilvery tone imaginable, ſober though ſplendid. Dunmallet at the foot of the lake was a formal unpleaſing object, not large enough to be grand, or wild enough to be romantic.

The ground of the common is finely broken, and is ſcattered ſpa⯑ringly with white cottages, each pictureſquely ſhadowed by its dark grove; above, riſe plantations and gray crags which lead the eye forward to the alpine forms, that crown the ſecond reach, changing their attitudes every inſtant as they are approached.

Ullſwater in all its windings, which give it the form of the letter S, is nearly nine miles long; the width is various, ſome⯑times nearly two miles and ſeldom leſs than one; but Skelling-nab, a vaſt rock in the ſecond reach, projects ſo as to reduce it to leſs than a quarter of a mile. Theſe are chiefly the reputed meaſure⯑ments, but the eye loſes its power of judging even of the breadth, confounded by the boldneſs of the ſhores and the grandeur of the fells, that riſe beyond; the proportions however are grand, for the water retains its dignity, notwithſtanding the vaſtneſs of its ac⯑companiments; a circumſtance, which Derwent-water can ſcarcely boaſt.

The ſecond bend, aſſuming the form of a river, is very long, but generally broad, and brought ſtrongly to remembrance ſome of the paſſes of the Rhine beyond Coblentz: though, here, the rocks, that riſe over the water, are little wooded; and, there, their ſkirts are [411] never margined by paſture, or open to ſuch fairy ſummer ſcenes of vivid green mingling with ſhades of wood and gleams of corn, as ſometimes appear within the receſſes of theſe wintry mountains. Theſe cliffs, however, do not ſhew the variety of hue, or marbled veins, that frequently ſurpriſe and delight on the Rhine, being generally dark and gray, and the varieties in their complexion, when there are any, purely aerial; but they are vaſt and broken; riſe immediately from the ſtream, and often ſhoot their maſſes over it; while the expanſe of water below accords with the dignity of that river in many of its reaches. Once too, there were other points of reſemblance, in the ruins of monaſteries and convents, which, though reaſon rejoices that they no longer exiſt, the eye may be allowed to regret. Of theſe, all which now remains on record is, that a ſociety of Benedictine monks was founded on the ſummit of Dunmallet, and a nunnery of the ſame order on a point behind Sowlby-fell; traces of theſe ruins, it is ſaid, may ſtill be ſeen.

Thus grandeur and immenſity are the characteriſtics of the left ſhore of the ſecond reach; the right exhibits romantic wildneſs in the rough ground of Dacre-common and the craggy heights above, and, further on, the ſweeteſt forms of repoſing beauty, in the graſſy hillocks and undulating copſes of Gowbarrow-park, fringing the water, ſometimes over little rocky eminences, that project into the ſtream, and, at others, in ſhelving bays, where the lake, tranſparent as cryſtal, breaks upon the pebbly bank, and laves the road, that winds there. Above theſe paſtoral and ſylvan landſcapes, riſe broken [412] precipices, leſs tremendous than thoſe of the oppoſite ſhore, with paſtures purſuing the crags to a conſiderable height, ſpeckled with cattle, which are exquiſitely pictureſque, as they graze upon the knolls and among the old trees, that adorn this finely declining park.

Leaving the hamlet of Watermillock at ſome diſtance on the left, and paſſing the ſeat of Mr. Robinſon, ſequeſtered in the gloom of beech and ſycamores, there are fine views over the ſecond reach, as the road deſcends the common towards Gowbarrow. Among the boldeſt fells, that breaſt the lake on the left ſhore, are Holling-fell and Swarth-fell, now no longer boaſting any part of the foreſt of Martindale, but ſhewing huge walls of naked rock, and ſcars, which many torrents have inflicted. One channel only in this dry ſeaſon retained its ſhining ſtream; the chaſm was dreadful, parting the mountain from the ſummit to the baſe; and its waters in winter, leaping in foam from precipice to precipice, muſt be infinitely ſub⯑lime; not, however, even then from their maſs, but from the length and precipitancy of their deſcent.

The perſpective as the road deſcends into Gowbarrow-park is perhaps the very fineſt on the lake. The ſcenery of the firſt reach is almoſt tame when compared with this, and it is difficult to ſay where it can be equalled for Alpine ſublimity, and for effecting wonder and awful elevation. The lake, after expanding at a diſ⯑tance to great breadth, once more loſes itſelf beyond the enormous pile of rock called Place-fell, oppoſite to which the ſhore, ſeeming to [413] cloſe upon all further progreſs, is bounded by two promontories cover⯑ed with woods, that ſhoot their luxuriant foliage to the water's edge. The ſhattered maſs of gray rock, called Yew-crag, riſes immediately over theſe, and, beyond, a glen opens to a chaos of mountains more ſolemn in their aſpect, and ſingular in their ſhapes, than any which have appeared, point crowding over point in lofty ſucceſſion. Among theſe is Stone-croſs-pike and huge Helvellyn, ſcowling over all; but, though this retains its pre eminence, its dignity is loſt in the maſs of alps around and below it. A fearful gloom involved them; the ſha⯑dows of a ſtormy ſky upon mountains of dark rock and heath. All this is ſeen over the woody fore-ground of the park, which, ſoon ſhrouding us in its bowery lanes, allowed the eye and the fancy to repoſe, while venturing towards new forms and aſſemblages of ſublimity.

Meantime, the green ſhade, under which we paſſed, where the ſultry low of cattle, and the ſound of ſtreams hurrying from the heights through the copſes of Gowbarrow to the lake below, were all that broke the ſtillneſs; theſe, with gleamings of the water, cloſe on the left, between the foliage, and which was ever changing its hue, ſometimes aſſuming the ſoft purple of a pigeon's neck, at others the ſilvery tint of ſunſhine—theſe circumſtances of imagery were in ſoothing and beautiful variety with the gigantic viſions we had loſt.

The road ſtill purſuing this border of the lake, the copſes opened to partial views of the bold rocks, that form the oppoſite ſhore, and [414] many a wild receſs and ſolemn glen appeared and vaniſhed among them, ſome ſhewing only broken fells, the ſides of others ſhaggy with foreſts, and nearly all lined, at their baſes, with narrow paſtures of the moſt exquiſite verdure. Thus deſcending upon a ſucceſſion of ſweeping bays, where the ſhades parted, and admitted the lake, that flowed even with us, and again retreating from it over gentle eminences, where it glittered only between the leaves; croſſing the rude bridges of ſeveral becks, rapid, clear and foaming among dark ſtones, and receiving a green tint from the cloſely ſhadowing trees, but neither precipitous enough in their deſcent, nor ample enough in their courſe, to increaſe the dignity of the ſcene, we came, after paſſ⯑ing nearly three miles through the park, to Lyulph's Tower. This manſion, a ſquare, gray edifice, with turreted corners, battlements and windows in the Gothic ſtyle, has been built by the preſent Duke of Norfolk in one of the fineſt ſituations of a park, abounding with views of the grand and the ſublime. It ſtands on a green eminence, a little removed from the water, backed with wood and with paſtures riſing abruptly beyond, to the cliffs and crags that crown them. In front, the ground falls finely to the lake's edge, broken, yet gentle, and ſcattered over with old trees, and darkened with copſes, which mingle in fine variety of tints with the light verdure of the turf beneath. Herds of deer, wandering over the knolls, and cattle, repo⯑ſing in the ſhade, completed this ſweet landſcape.

The lake is hence ſeen to make one of its boldeſt expanſes, as it ſweeps round Place-fell, and flows into the third and laſt bend of this [415] wonderful vale. Lyulph's Tower looks up this reach to the ſouth, and to the eaſt traces all the fells and curving banks of Gowbarrow, that bind the ſecond; while, to the weſt, a dark glen opens to a glimpſe of the ſolemn alps round Helvellyn; and all theſe objects are ſeen over the mild beauty of the park.

Paſſing fine ſweeps of the ſhore and over bold headlands, we came oppoſite to the vaſt promontory, called Place-fell, that puſhes its craggy foot into the lake, like a lion's claw, round which the waters make a ſudden turn, and enter Patterdale, their third and final expanſe. In this reach, they loſe the form of a river, and reſume that of a lake, being cloſed, at three miles diſtance, by the ruinous rocks, that guard the gorge of Patterdale, backed by a multitude of fells. The water, in this ſcope, is of oval form, bounded on one ſide by the precipices of Place-fell, Martindale-fell, and ſeveral others equally rude and awful that riſe from its edge, and ſhew no lines of verdure, or maſſes of wood, but retire in rocky bays, or project in vaſt promontories athwart it. The oppoſite ſhore is leſs ſevere and more romantic; the rocks are lower and richly wooded, and, often receding from the water, leave room for a tract of paſture, meadow land and corn, to margin their ruggedneſs. At the upper end, the village of Patterdale, and one or two white farms, peep out from among trees beneath the ſcowling mountains, that cloſe the ſcene; pitched in a rocky nook, with corn and meadow land, ſloping gently in front to the lake, and, here and there, a ſcattered grove. But this ſcene is viewed to more advantage from one of the two woody emi⯑nences, [416] that overhang the lake, juſt at the point where it forms its laſt angle, and, like an opened compaſs, ſpreads its two arms before the eye. Theſe heights are extremely beautiful, viewed from the oppo⯑ſite ſhore, and had long charmed us at a diſtance. Approaching them, we croſſed another torrent, Glencoyn-beck, or Airey-force, which here divides not only the eſtates of the Duke of Norfolk and Mr. Hodgkinſon, but the counties of Weſtmoreland and Cumber⯑land; and all the fells beyond, that encloſe the laſt bend of Ullſwater, are in Patterdale. Here, on the right, at the feet of awful rocks, was ſpread a gay autumnal ſcene, in which the peaſants were ſinging merrily as they gathered the oats into ſheafs; woods, turfy hillocks, and, above all, tremendous crags, abruptly cloſing round the yellow harveſt. The figures, together with the whole landſcape, reſembled one of thoſe beautifully fantaſtic ſcenes, which fable calls up before the wand of the magician.

Entering Glencoyn woods and ſweeping the boldeſt bay of the lake, while the water daſhed with a ſtrong ſurge upon the ſhore, we at length mounted a road frightful from its ſteepneſs and its crags, and gained one of the wooded ſummits ſo long admired. From hence the view of Ullſwater is the moſt extenſive and various, that its ſhores exhibit, comprehending its two principal reaches, and though not the moſt pictureſque, it is certainly the moſt grand. To the eaſt, extends the middle ſweep in long and equal perſpective, walled with barren fells on the right, and margined on the left with the paſtoral receſſes and bowery projections of Gowbarrow park. [417] The rude mountains above almoſt ſeemed to have fallen back from the ſhore to admit this landſcape within their hollow boſom, and then, bending abruptly, appear, like Milton's Adam viewing the ſleeping Eve, to hang over it enamoured.

Lyulph's Tower is the only object of art, except the hamlet of Watermillock, ſeen in the diſtant perſpective, that appears in the ſecond bend of Ullſwater; and this loſes much of its effect from the ſquare uniformity of the ſtructure, and the glaring green of its painted window-caſes. This is the longeſt reach of the lake.

Place-fell, which divides the two laſt bends, and was immediately oppoſite to the point we were on, is of the boldeſt form. It projects into the water, an enormous maſs of grey crag, ſcarred with dark hues; thence retiring a little it again bends forward in huge cliffs, and finally ſtarts up into a vaſt perpendicular face of rock. As a ſingle object, it is wonderfully grand; and, connected with the ſcene, its effect is ſublime. The lower rocks are called Silver-rays, and not inaptly; for, when the ſun ſhines upon them, their variegated ſides ſomewhat reſemble in brightneſs the rays ſtreaming beneath a cloud.

The laſt reach of Ullſwater, which is on the right of this point, expands into an oval, and its majeſtic ſurface is ſpotted with little rocky iſlets, that would adorn a leſs ſacred ſcene; here they are pret⯑tineſſes, that can ſcarcely be tolerated by the grandeur of its charac⯑ter. The tremendous mountains, which ſcowl over the gorge of Patterdale; the cliffs, maſſy, broken and overlooked by a multitude [418] of dark ſummits, with the grey walls of Swarth and Martindale fells, that upheave themſelves on the eaſtern ſhore, form altogether one of the moſt grand and awful pictures on the lake; yet, admirable and impreſſive as it is, as to ſolemnity and aſtoniſhment, its effect with us was not equal to that of the more alpine ſketch, caught in diſtant perſpective from the deſcent into Gowbarrow-park.

In theſe views of Ullſwater, ſublimity and greatneſs are the pre⯑dominating characters, though beauty often glows upon the weſtern bank. The mountains are all bold, gloomy and ſevere. When we ſaw them, the ſky accorded well with the ſcene, being frequently darkened by autumnal clouds; and the equinoctial gale ſwept the ſurface of the lake, marking its blackneſs with long white lines, and beating its waves over the rocks to the foliage of the thickets above. The trees, that ſhade theſe eminences, give greater force to the ſcenes, which they either partially exclude, or wholly admit, and become themſelves fine objects, enriched as they are with the darkeſt moſs.

From hence the ride to the village of Patterdale, at the lake's head, is, for the firſt part, over precipices covered with wood, whence you look down, on the left, upon the water, or upon paſtures ſtretching to it; on the right, the rocks riſe abruptly, and often impend their maſſes over the road; or open to narrow dells, green, rocky and overlooked by endleſs mountains.

About half way to the village of Patterdale, a peninſula ſpreads from this ſhore into the lake, where a white houſe, peeping from a grove and ſurrounded with green encloſures, is beautifully placed. [419] This is an inn, and, perhaps, the principal one, as to accommoda⯑tion; but, though its ſituation, on a ſpot which on each ſide com⯑mands the lake, is very fine, it is not comparable, in point of wild⯑neſs and ſublimity, to that of the cottage, called the King's Arms, at Patterdale. In the way thither, are enchanting catches of the lake, between the trees on the left, and peeps into the glens, that wind among the alps towards Helvellyn, on the right. Theſe multiply near the head of Ullſwater, where they ſtart off as from one point, like radii, and conclude in trackleſs ſolitudes.

It is difficult to ſpread varied pictures of ſuch ſcenes before the imagination. A repetition of the ſame images of rock, wood and water, and the ſame epithets of grand, vaſt and ſublime, which neceſ⯑ſarily occur, muſt appear tautologous, on paper, though their arche⯑types in nature, ever varying in outline, or arrangement, exhibit new viſions to the eye, and produce new ſhades of effect on the mind. It is difficult alſo, where theſe delightful differences have been expe⯑rienced, to forbear dwelling on the remembrance, and attempting to ſketch the peculiarities, which occaſioned them. The ſcenery at the head of Ullſwater is eſpecially productive of ſuch difficulties, where a wiſh to preſent the picture, and a conſciouſneſs of the impoſſibility of doing ſo, except by the pencil, meet and oppoſe each other.

Patterdale itſelf is a name ſomewhat familiar to recollection, from the circumſtance of the chief eſtate in it having given to its poſſeſſors, for ſeveral centuries, the title of Kings of Patterdale. The laſt perſon ſo diſtinguiſhed was richer than his anceſtors, having increaſed his [420] income, by the moſt ludicrous parſimony, to a thouſand pounds a year. His ſon and ſucceſſor is an induſtrious country gentleman, who has improved the ſort of farming manſion, annexed to the eſtate, and, not affecting to depart much from the ſimple manners of the other inhabitants, is reſpectable enough to be generally called by his own name of Mounſey, inſtead of the title, which was probably ſel⯑dom given to his anceſtors, but in ſome ſort of mockery.

The village is very humble, as to the conditions and views of the inhabitants; and very reſpectable, as to their integrity and ſimplicity, and to the contentment, which is proved by the infrequency of emi⯑grations to other diſtricts. It ſtraggles at the feet of fells, ſomewhat removed from the lake and near the entrance of the wild vale of Glenridding. Its white church is ſeen nearly from the commence⯑ment of the laſt reach, riſing among trees, and in the church-yard are the ruins of an antient yew, of remarkable ſize and venerable beauty; its trunk, hollowed and ſilvered by age, reſembles twiſted roots; yet the branches, that remain above, are not of melancholy black, but flouriſh in rich verdure and flaky foliage.

The inn is beyond the village, ſecurely ſheltered under high crags, while enormous fells, cloſe on the right, open to the gorge of Patter⯑dale; and Coldrill-beck, iſſuing from it, deſcends among the corn and meadows, to join the lake at a little diſtance. We had a happy evening at this cleanly cottage, where there was no want, without its recompenſe, from the civil offices of the people. Among the rocks, that roſe over it, is a ſtation, which has been more frequently ſelected [421] than any other on the lake by the painter and the lover of the bean idée, as the French and Sir JOSHUA REYNOLDS expreſſively term what Mr. BURKE explains in his definition of the word fine. Below the point, on which we ſtood, a tract of corn and meadow land fell gently to the lake, which expanded in great majeſty beyond, bounded on the right by the precipices of many fells, and, on the left, by rocks finely wooded, and of more broken and ſpiry outline. The undulating paſtures and copſes of Gowbarrow cloſed the per⯑ſpective. Round the whole of theſe ſhores, but particularly on the left, roſe cluſters of dark and pointed ſummits, aſſuming great variety of ſhape, amongſt which Helvellyn was ſtill pre-eminent. Imme⯑diately around us, all was vaſt and gloomy; the fells mount ſwiftly and to enormous heights, leaving at their baſes only crags and hillock, tufted with thickets of dwarf-oak and holly, where the beau⯑tiful cattle, that adorned them, and a few ſheep, were picking a ſcanty ſupper among the heath.

From this ſpot glens open on either hand, that lead the eye only to a chaos of mountains. The profile of one near the ſore-ground on the right is remarkably grand, ſhelving from the ſummit in one vaſt ſweep of rock, with only ſome interruption of craggy points near its baſe, into the water. On one ſide, it unites with the fells in the gorge of Patterdale, and, on the other, winds into a bold bay for the lake. Among the highlands, ſeen over the left ſhore, is Common-fell, a large heathy mountain, which appeared to face us. Somewhat nearer, is a lower one, called Glenridding, and above it the Nab. [422] Graſſdale has Glenridding and the Nab on one ſide towards the water, and Birks-fell and St. Sunday's-crag over that, on the other. The points, that riſe above the Nab, are Stridon-edge, then Cove's head, and, over all, the precipices of dark Helvellyn, now appearing only at intervals among the clouds.

Not only every fell of this wild region has a name, but almoſt every crag of every fell, ſo that ſhepherds ſitting at the fire-ſide can direct each other to the exact ſpot among the mountains, where a ſtray ſheep has been ſeen.

Among the rocks on the right ſhore, is Martindale-fell, once ſhaded with a foreſt, from which it received its name, and which ſpreading to a vaſt extent over the hills and vallies beyond, even as far as Hawſ⯑water, darkened the front of Swarth-fell and ſeveral others, that impend over the firſt and ſecond reach of Ullſwater. Of the moun⯑tains, which tower above the glen of Patterdale, the higheſt are Har⯑ter's-fell, Kidſtow-pike, and the ridge, called the High-ſtreet; a name, which reminded us of the German denomination, Berg ſtraſſe.

The effect of a ſtormy evening upon the ſcenery was ſolemn. Clouds ſmoked along the fells, veiling them for a moment, and paſſing on to other ſummits; or ſometimes they involved the lower ſteeps, leaving the tops unobſcured and reſembling iſlands in a diſtant ocean. The lake was dark and tempeſtuous, daſhing the rocks with a ſtrong foam. It was a ſcene worthy of the ſublimity of Oſſian, and brought to recollection ſome touches of his gloomy pencil. ‘"When the ſtorms of the mountains come, when the north lifts the waves on high, I ſit by the ſounding ſhore, &c."’

[423] A large hawk, ſailing proudly in the air, and wheeling among the ſtormy clouds, ſuperior to the ſhock of the guſt, was the only ani⯑mated object in the upward proſpect. We were told, that the eagles had forſaken their aeries in this neighbourhood and in Borrowdale, and are fled to the iſle of Man; but one had been ſeen in Patter⯑dale, the day before, which, not being at its full growth, could not have arrived from a great diſtance.

We returned to our low-roofed habitation, where, as the wind ſwept in hollow guſts along the mountains and ſtrove againſt our caſements, the crackling blaze of a wood fire lighted up the cheer⯑fulneſs, which, ſo long ſince as Juvenal's time, has been allowed to ariſe from the contraſt of eaſe againſt difficulty. Suave mari magno, turbantibus aequora ventis; and, however we might exclaim,

it was pleaſant to add,

BROUGHAM CASTLE.

THE next morning, we proceeded from Ullſwater along the vale of Emont, ſo ſweetly adorned by the woods and lawns of Dalemain, the ſeat of Mr. Haſſel, whoſe manſion is ſeen in the bot⯑tom. One of the moſt magnificent proſpects in the country is when this vale opens to that of Eden. The mountainous range of Croſs-fell fronted us, and its appearance, this day, was very ſtriking, for the effect of autumnal light and ſhade. The upper range, bright in ſunſhine, appeared to riſe, like light clouds above the lower, which was involved in dark ſhadow, ſo that it was a conſiderable time before the eye could detect the illuſion. The effect of this was inexpreſſibly intereſting.

Within view of Emont bridge, which divides the counties of Cumberland and Weſtmoreland, is that memorial of antient times, ſo often deſcribed under the name of Arthur's Round Table; a green circular ſpot of forty paces diameter, incloſed by a dry ditch, and, beyond this, by a bank; each in ſufficient preſervation to ſhew exactly what has been its form. In the midſt of the larger circle is another of only ſeven paces diameter. We have no means of adding to, or even of corroborating any of the well known conjec⯑tures, concerning the uſe of this rude and certainly very antient monument. Thoſe not qualified to propoſe deciſions in this reſpect [425] may, however, ſuffer themſelves to believe, that the bank without the ditch and the encloſure within it were places for different claſſes of perſons, intereſted as parties, or ſpectators, in ſome tranſactions, paſſing within the inner circle; and that theſe, whether religious, civil, or military ceremonies, were rendered diſtinct and conſpicuous, for the purpoſe of impreſſing them upon the memory of the ſpecta⯑tors, at a time when memory and tradition were the only preſerva⯑tives of hiſtory.

Paſſing a bridge, under which the Lowther, from winding and romantic banks, enters the vale of Eden, we aſcended between the groves of Bird's Neſt, or, as it is now called, Brougham Hall; a white manſion, with battlements and gothic windows, having for⯑merly a bird painted on the front. It is perched among woods, on the brow of a ſteep, but not lofty hill, and commands enchant⯑ing proſpects over the vale. The winding Emont; the ruins of Brougham Caſtle on a green knoll of Whinſield park, ſurrounded with old groves; far beyond this, the highlands of Croſs-fell; to the north, Carleton-hall, the handſome modern manſion of Mr. Wal⯑lace, amidſt lawns of incomparable verdure and luxuriant woods falling from the heights; further ſtill, the mountain, town and bea⯑con of Penrith; theſe are the principal features of the rich landſcape, ſpread before the eye from the ſummit of the hill, at Bird's Neſt.

As we deſcended to Brougham Caſtle, about a mile further, its ruined maſſes of pale red ſtone, tufted with ſhrubs and plants, ap⯑peared between groves of fir, beach, oak and aſh, amidſt the broken [426] ground of Whinfield park, a quarter of a mile through which brought us to the ruin itſelf. It was guarded by a ſturdy maſtiff, worthy the office of porter to ſuch a place, and a good effigy of the Sir Porter of a former age. Brougham Caſtle, venerable for its well⯑certified antiquity and for the hoary maſſes it now exhibits, is render⯑ed more intereſting by having been occaſionally the reſidence of the humane and generous Sir Philip Sydney; who had only to look from the windows of this once noble edifice to ſee his own ‘"Arcadia"’ ſpreading on every ſide. The landſcape probably awakened his imagination, for it was during a viſit here, that the greateſt part of that work was written.

This edifice, once amongſt the ſtrongeſt and moſt important of the border fortreſſes, is ſuppoſed to have been founded by the Romans; but the firſt hiſtorical record concerning it is dated in the time of William the Conqueror, who granted it to his nephew, Hugh de Al⯑binois. His ſucceſſors held it, till 1170, when Hugh de Morville, one of the murderers of Thomas a Becket, forfeited it by his crime. Brougham was afterwards granted by King John to a grandſon of Hugh, Robert de Vipont, whoſe grandſon again forfeited the eſtate, which was, however, reſtored to his daughters, one of whom marry⯑ing a De Clifford, it remained in this family, till a daughter of the celebrated Counteſs of Pembroke gave it by marriage to that of the Tuftons, Earls of Thanet, in which it now remains.

This caſtle has been thrice nearly demoliſhed; firſt by neglect, during the minority of Roger de Vipont, after which it was ſuffi⯑ciently [427] reſtored to receive James the Firſt, on his return from Scotland, in 1617; ſecondly, in the civil wars of Charles the Firſt's time; and thirdly, in 1728, when great part of the edifice was deliberately taken down, and the materials ſold for one hundred pounds. Some of the walls ſtill remaining are twelve feet thick, and the places are viſible, in which the maſſy gates were held to them by hinges and bolts of uncommon ſize. A fuller proof of the many ſacrifices of comfort and convenience, by which the higheſt claſſes in former ages were glad to purchaſe ſecurity, is very ſeldom afforded, than by the three detached parts ſtill left of this edifice; but they ſhew nothing of the magnificence and gracefulneſs, which ſo often charm the eye in gothic ruins. Inſtead of theſe, they exhibit ſymptoms of the cruel⯑ties, by which their firſt lords revenged upon others the wretched⯑neſs of the continual ſuſpicion felt by themſelves. Dungeons, ſecret paſſages and heavy iron rings remain to hint of unhappy wretches, who were, perhaps, reſcued only by death from theſe horrible en⯑gines of a tyrant's will. The bones probably of ſuch victims are laid beneath the damp earth of theſe vaults.

A young woman from a neighbouring farm-houſe conducted us over broken banks, waſhed by the Emont, to what had been the grand entrance of the caſtle; a venerable gothic gateway, dark and of great depth, paſſing under a ſquare tower, ſinely ſhadowed by old elms. Above, are a croſs-loop and two tier of ſmall pointed windows; no battlements appear at the top; but four rows of cor⯑bells, which probably once ſupported them, now prop ſome tufts of antient thorn, that have roots in their fractures.

[428] As we paſſed under this long gateway, we looked into what is ſtill called the Keep, a ſmall vaulted room, receiving light only from loops in the outward wall. Near a large fire-place, yet entire, is a trap door leading to the dungeon below; and, in an oppoſite corner, a door-caſe to narrow ſtairs, that wind up the turret, where too, as well as in the vault, priſoners were probably ſecured. One almoſt ſaw the ſurly keeper deſcending through this door-caſe, and heard him rattle the keys of the chambers above, liſtening with indiffer⯑ence to the clank of chains and to the echo of that groan below, which ſeemed to rend the heart it burſt from.

This gloomy gateway, which had once ſounded with the trum⯑pets and horſes of James the Firſt, when he viſited the Earl of Cum⯑berland, this gateway, now ſerving only to ſhelter cattle from the ſtorm, opens, at length, to a graſſy knoll, with bold maſſes of the ruin ſcattered round it and a few old aſh trees, waving in the area. Through a fractured arch in the rampart ſome features in the ſcenery without appear to advantage; the Emont falling over a weir at ſome diſtance, with fulling-mills on the bank above; beyond, the paſtured ſlopes and woodlands of Carleton park, and Croſs-fell ſweeping the back-ground.

Of the three ruinous parts, that now remain of the edifice, one large ſquare maſs, near the tower and gateway, appears to have con⯑tained the principal apartments; the walls are of great height, and, though roofleſs, nearly entire. We entered what ſeemed to have been the great hall, now choaked with rubbiſh and weeds. It was intereſting to look upwards through the void, and trace by the [429] many window-caſes, that appeared at different heights in the walls, ſomewhat of the plan of apartments, whoſe floors and ceilings had long ſince vaniſhed; majeſtic reliques, which ſhewed, that here, as well as at Hardwick, the chief rooms had been in the ſecond ſtory. Door-caſes, that had opened to rooms without this building, with remains of paſſages within the walls, were frequently ſeen, and, here and there, in a corner at a vaſt height, fragments of a winding ſtair⯑caſe, appearing beyond the arch of a ſlender door-way.

We were tempted to enter a ruinous paſſage below, formed in the great thickneſs of the walls; but it was ſoon loſt in darkneſs, and we were told that no perſon had ventured to explore the end of this, or of many ſimilar paſſages among the ruins, now the dens of ſer⯑pents and other venomous reptiles. It was probably a ſecret way to the great dungeon, which may ſtill be ſeen, underneath the hall; for the roof remains, though what was called the Sweating Pillar, from the dew, that was owing to its damp ſituation and its ſecluſion from outward air, no longer ſupports it. Large iron rings, faſtened to the carved heads of animals, are ſtill ſhewn in the walls of this dungeon. Not a ſingle loop-hole was left by the contriver of this hideous vault for the refreſhment of priſoners; yet were they inſulted by ſome diſplay of gothic elegance, for the pillar already mentioned, ſupporting the centre of the roof, ſpread from thence into eight branches, which deſcended the walls, and terminated at the floor in the heads, holding the iron rings.

The ſecond maſs of the ruin, which, though at a conſiderable [430] diſtance from the main building, was formerly connected with it, ſhews the walls of many ſmall chambers, with reliques of the paſ⯑ſages and ſtairs, that led to them. But, perhaps, the only pictureſque feature of the caſtle is the third detachment; a ſmall tower finely ſhat⯑tered, having near its top a flouriſhing aſh, growing from the ſolid walls, and overlooking what was once the moat. We mounted a perilous ſtair-caſe, of which many ſteps were gone, and others trembled to the preſſure; then gained a turret, of which two ſides were alſo fallen, and, at length, aſcended to the whole magnificence and ſublimity of the proſpect.

To the eaſt, ſpread nearly all the rich vale of Eden, terminated by the Stainmore hills and other highlands of Yorkſhire; to the north⯑eaſt, the mountains of Croſs-fell bounded the long landſcape. The nearer grounds were Whinfield-park, broken, towards the Emont, into ſhrubby ſteeps, where the deep red of the ſoil mingled with the verdure of foliage; part of Sir Michael le Fleming's woods round⯑ing a hill on the oppoſite bank, and, beyond, a wide extent of low land. To the ſouth, ſwelled the upland boundaries of Bampton⯑vale, with Lowther-woods, ſhading the paſtures and diſtantly crowned by the fells of Hawſwater; more to the weſt, Bird's Neſt, ‘"boſomed high in tufted trees;"’ at its foot, Lowther-bridge, and, a little fur⯑ther, the neat hamlet and bridge of Emont. In the low lands, ſtill nearer, the Lowther and Emont united, the latter flowing in ſhining circles among the woods and deep-green meadows of Carleton-park. Beyond, at a vaſt diſtance to the weſt and north, roſe all the alps of [431] all the lakes! an horizon ſcarcely to be equalled in England. Among theſe broken mountains, the ſhaggy ridge of Saddleback was proudly pre-eminent; but one forked top of its rival Skiddaw peeped over its declining ſide. Helvellyn, huge and miſ-ſhapen, towered above the fells of Ullſwater. The ſun's rays, ſtreaming from beneath a line of dark clouds, that overhung the weſt, gave a tint of ſilvery light to all theſe alps, and reminded us of the firſt exquiſite appear⯑ance of the mountains, at Goodeſberg, which, however, in grandeur and elegance of outline, united with pictureſque richneſs, we have never ſeen equalled.

Of the walls around us every ledge, marking their many ſtories, was emboſſed with luxuriant vegetation. Tufts of the hawthorn ſeemed to grow from the ſolid ſtone, and ſlender ſaplings of aſh waved over the deſerted door-caſes, where, at the transforming hour of twilight, the ſuperſtitious eye might miſtake them for ſpectres of ſome early poſſeſſor of the caſtle, reſtleſs from guilt, or of ſome ſuf⯑ferer perſevering from vengeance.

THE TOWN AND BEACON OF PENRITH.

HAVING purſued the road one mile further, for the pur⯑poſe of viſiting the tender memorial of pious affection, ſo often de⯑ſcribed under the name of Counteſs' Pillar, we returned to Emont⯑bridge, and from thence reached Penrith, pronounced Peyrith, the moſt ſouthern town of Cumberland. So far off as the head of Ullſ⯑water, fourteen miles, this is talked of as an important place, and looked to as the ſtorehouſe of whatever is wanted more than the fields and lakes ſupply. Thoſe, who have lived chiefly in large towns, have to learn from the wants and dependencies of a people thinly ſcattered, like the inhabitants of all mountainous regions, the great value of any places of mutual reſort, however little diſtinguiſhed in the general view of a country. Penrith is ſo often mentioned in the neighbourhood, that the firſt appearance of it ſomewhat diſappoint⯑ed us, becauſe we had not conſidered how many ſerious reaſons thoſe, who talked of it, might have for their eſtimation, which ſhould yet not at all relate to the qualities, that render places intereſting to a traveller.

The town, conſiſting chiefly of old houſes, ſtraggles along two ſides of the high north road, and is built upon the ſide of a mountain, that towers to great height above it, in ſteep and heathy knolls, unſhaded by a ſingle tree. Eminent, on the ſummit of this moun⯑tain, [433] ſtands the old, ſolitary beacon, viſible from almoſt every part of Penrith, which, notwithſtanding its many ſymptoms of antiquity, is not deficient of neatneſs. The houſes are chiefly white, with door and window caſes of the red ſtone found in the neighbourhood. Some of the ſmaller have over their doors dates of the latter end of the ſixteenth century. There are ſeveral inns, of which that called Old Buchanan's was recommended to us, firſt, by the recollection, that Mr. Gray had mentioned it, and afterwards by the comfort and civility we found there.

Some traces of the Scottiſh dialect and pronunciation appear as far ſouth as Lancaſhire; in Weſtmoreland, they become ſtronger; and, at Penrith, are extremely diſtinct and general, ſerving for one among many peaceful indications of an approach, once notified chiefly by preparations for hoſtility, or defence. Penrith is the moſt ſouthern town in England at which the guinea notes of the Scotch bank are in circulation. The beacon, a ſort of ſquare tower, with a peaked roof and openings at the ſides, is a more perfect inſtance of the direful neceſſities of paſt ages, than would be expected to remain in this. The circumſtances are well known, which made ſuch watchfulneſs eſpecially proper, at Penrith; and the other traces of warlike habits and precautions, whether appearing in records, or buildings, are too numerous to be noticed in a ſketch, which rather pretends to deſcribe what the author has ſeen, than to enumerate what has been diſcovered by the reſearches of others. Dr. Burn's Hiſtory contains many curious particulars; and there are otherwiſe abundant [434] and ſatisfactory memorials, as to the ſtate of the debateable ground, the regulations for ſecuring paſſes or fords, and even to the public maintenance of ſlough dogs, which were to purſue aggreſſors with hot trod, as the inhabitants were to follow them by horn and voice. Theſe are all teſtimonies, that among the many evils, inflicted upon countries by war, that, which is not commonly thought of, is not the leaſt; the public encouragement of a diſpoſition to violence, under the names of gallantry, or valour, which will not ceaſe exactly when it is publicly prohibited; and the education of nume⯑rous bodies to habits of ſupplying their wants, not by conſtant and uſeful labour, but by ſudden and deſtructive exertions of force. The miſtake, by which courage is releaſed from all moral eſtimation of the purpoſes, for which it is exerted, and is conſidered to be neceſſarily and univerſally a good in itſelf, rather than a means of good, or of evil, according to its application, is among the ſevereſt misfortunes of mankind. Tacitus has an admirable reproof of it—

Though the ſituation of Penrith, looking up the vales of Eden and Emont, is remarkably pleaſant, that of the beacon above is infinitely finer, commanding an horizon of at leaſt an hundred miles diameter, filled with an endleſs variety of beauty, greatneſs and ſublimity. The view extends over Cumberland, parts of Weſtmoreland, Lancaſhire, Yorkſhire, and a corner of Northumberland and Durham. On a [435] clear day, the Scottiſh high lands, beyond Solway Firth, may be diſtinguiſhed, like faint clouds, on the horizon, and the ſteeples of Carliſle are plainly viſible. All the intervening country, ſpeckled with towns and villages, is ſpread beneath the eye, and, nearly eighty miles to the eaſtward, part of the Cheviot-hills are traced, a dark line, binding the diſtance and marking the ſeparation between earth and ſky. On the plains towards Carliſle, the nearer ridges of Croſs-fell are ſeen to commence, and thence ſtretch their barren ſteeps thirty miles towards the eaſt, where they diſappear among the Stainmore⯑hills and the huge moorlands of Yorkſhire, that cloſe up the long landſcape of the vale of Eden. Among theſe, the broken lines of Ingleborough ſtart above all the broader ones of the moors, and that mountain ſtill proclaims itſelf ſovereign of the Yorkſhire heights.

Southward, riſe the wonders of Weſtmoreland, Shapfells, ridge over ridge, the nearer pikes of Hawſwater, and then the mountains of Ullſwater, Helvellyn pre-eminent amongſt them, diſtinguiſhed by the grandeur and boldneſs of their outline, as well as the variety of their ſhapes; ſome hugely ſwelling, ſome aſpiring in cluſters of alpine points, and ſome broken into ſhaggy ridges. The ſky, weſt⯑ward from hence and far to the north, diſplays a viſion of Alps, Saddleback ſpreading towards Keſwick its long ſhattered ridge, and one top of Skiddaw peering beyond it; but the others of this diſtrict are inferior in grandeur to the fells of Ullſwater, more broken into points, and with leſs of contraſt in their forms. Behind Saddleback, the ſkirts of Skiddaw ſpread themſelves, and thence low hills ſhelve [436] into the plains of Cumberland, that extend to Whitehaven; the only level line in the ſcope of this vaſt horizon. The ſcenery nearer to the eye exhibited cultivation in its richeſt ſtate, varied with paſtoral and ſylvan beauty; landſcapes embelliſhed by the elegancies of art, and rendered venerable by the ruins of time. In the vale of Eden, Carleton-hall, flouriſhing under the hand of careful attention, and Bird's Neſt, luxuriant in its ſpiry woods, oppoſed their cheerful beauties to the neglected walls of Brougham Caſtle, once the terror, and, even in ruins, the pride of the ſcene, now half-ſhrouded in its melancholy grove. Theſe objects were lighted up by partial gleams of ſunſhine, which, as they fled along the valley, gave magical effect to all they touched.

The other vales in the home proſpect were thoſe of Bampton and Emont; the firſt open and gentle, ſhaded by the gradual woods of Lowther-park; the laſt cloſer and more romantic, withdrawing in many a lingering bend towards Ullſwater, where it is cloſed by the pyramidal Dunmallard, but not before a gleam of the lake is ſuffered to appear beyond the dark baſe of the hill. At the nearer end of the vale, and immediately under the eye, the venerable ruins of Penrith Caſtle creſt a round green hill. Theſe are of pale-red ſtone, and ſtand in detached maſſes; but have little that is pictureſque in their ap⯑pearance, time having ſpared neither tower, or gateway, and not a ſingle tree giving ſhade, or force, to the ſhattered walls. The ground about the caſtle is broken into graſſy knolls, and only cattle wander over the deſolated tract. Time has alſo obſcured the name of the [437] founder; but it is known, that the main building was repaired, and ſome addition made to it by Richard the Third, when Duke of Glouceſter, who lived here, for five years, in his office of ſheriff of Cumberland, promoting the York intereſt by artful hoſpitalities, and endeavouring to ſtrike terror into the Lancaſtrians. Among the ruins is a ſubterraneous paſſage, leading to a houſe in Penrith, above three hundred yards diſtant, called Dockwray Caſtle. The town lies between the fortreſs and the Beacon-hill, ſpreading prettily along the ſkirts of the mountain, with its many roofs of blue ſlate, among which the church riſes near a dark grove.

Penrith, from the latter end of the laſt century, till lately, when it was purchaſed by the Duke of Devonſhire, belonged to the family of Portland, to whom it was given by William the Third; probably inſtead of the manors in Wales, which it was one of William's few faulty deſigns to have given to his favourite companion, had not Par⯑liament remonſtrated, and informed him, that the Crown could not alienate the territories of the Principality. The church, a building of red ſtone, unuſually well diſpoſed in the interior, is a vicarage of ſmall endowment; but the value of money in this part of the king⯑dom is ſo high, that the merit of independence, a merit and a hap⯑pineſs which ſhould always belong to clergymen, is attainable by the poſſeſſors of very moderate incomes. What is called the Giant's Grave in the church yard is a narrow ſpot, incloſed, to the length of fourteen or fifteen feet, by rows of low ſtones, at the ſides, and, at the ends, by two pillars, now ſlender, but apparently worn by the [438] weather from a greater thickneſs. The height of theſe is eleven or twelve feet; and all the ſtones, whether in the borders, at the ſides, or in theſe pillars, bear traces of rude carving, which ſhew, at leaſt, that the monument muſt have been thought very important by thoſe that raiſed it, ſince the ſingularity of its ſize was not held a ſufficient diſtinction. We pored intently over theſe traces, though certainly without the hope of diſcovering any thing not known to the eminent antiquarians, who have confeſſed their ignorance concerning the ori⯑gin of them.

FROM PENRITH TO KESWICK.

THE Grayſtock road, which we took for the firſt five or ſixmiles, is unintereſting, and offers nothing worthy of attention, before the approach to the caſtle, the ſeat of the Duke of Norfolk. The appearance of this from the road is good; a gray building, with gothic towers, ſeated in a valley among lawns and woods, that ſtretch, with great pomp of ſhade, to gently-riſing hills. Behind theſe, Sad⯑dleback, huge, gray and barren, riſes with all its ridgy lines; a grand and ſimple back-ground, giving exquiſite effect to the dark woods below. Such is the height of the mountain, that, though eight or ten miles off, it appeared, as we approached the caſtle, almoſt to impend over it. Southward from Saddleback, a multitude [439] of pointed ſummits crowd the horizon; and it is moſt intereſting, after leaving Grayſtock, to obſerve their changing attitudes, as you advance, and the gradual diſcloſure of their larger features. Perhaps, a ſudden diſplay of the ſublimeſt ſcenery, however full, imparts leſs emotion, than a gradually increaſing view of it; when expectation takes the higheſt tone, and imagination finiſhes the ſketch.

About two miles beyond Grayſtock, the moorlands commence, and, as far as ſimple greatneſs conſtitutes ſublimity, this was, indeed, a ſublime proſpect; leſs ſo only than that from Shapfell itſelf, where the mountains are not ſo varied in their forms and are plainer in their grandeur. We were on a vaſt plain, if plain that may be called, which ſwells into long undulations, ſurrounded by an amphitheatre of heathy mountains, that ſeem to have been ſhook by ſome grand convulſion of the earth, and tumbled around in all ſhapes. Not a tree, a hedge, and ſeldom even a ſtone wall, broke the grandeur of their lines; what was not heath was only rock and gray crags; and a ſhepherd's hut, or his flocks, browſing on the ſteep ſides of the fells, or in the narrow vallies, that opened diſtantly, was all that diverſified the vaſt ſcene. Saddleback ſpread his ſkirts weſtward along the plain, and then reared himſelf in terrible and lonely majeſty. In the long perſpective beyond, were the crowding points of the fells round Keſwick, Borrowdale, and the vales of St. John and Leyberthwaite, ſtretching away to thoſe near Graſmere. The weather was in ſolemn harmony with the ſcenery; long ſhadows ſwept over the hills, fol⯑lowed by gleaming lights. Tempeſtuous guſts alone broke the [440] ſilence. Now and then, the ſun's rays had a ſingular appearance; pouring, from under clouds, between the tops of fells into ſome deep vale, at a diſtance, as into a focus.

This is the very region, which the wild fancy of a poet, like Shake⯑ſpeare, would people with witches, and ſhew them at their incanta⯑tions, calling ſpirits from the clouds and ſpectres from the earth.

On the now lonely plains of this vaſt amphitheatre, the Romans had two camps, and their Eagle ſpread its wings over a ſcene worthy of its own ſoarings. The lines of theſe encampments may ſtill be traced on that part of the plain, called Hutton Moor, to the north of the high road; and over its whole extent towards Keſwick a Roman way has been diſcovered. Funereal urns have alſo been dug up here, and an altar of Roman form, but with the inſcription obliterated.

Nearer Saddleback, we perceived crags and heath mingling on its precipices, and its baſe broken into a little world of mountains, green with cultivation. White farms, each with its grove to ſhelter it from the deſcending guſts, corn and paſtures of the brighteſt verdure enlivened the ſkirts of the mountain all round, climbing to⯑wards the dark heath and crags, or ſpreading downwards into the vale of Threlkeld, where the ſlender Lowther ſhews his ſhining ſtream.

Leaving Hutton Moor, the road ſoon began to aſcend the ſkirts of Saddleback, and paſſed between green hillocks, where cattle ap⯑peared moſt elegantly in the mountain ſcene, under the crags, or ſipping at the clear ſtream, that guſhed from the rocks, and wound [441] to the vale below. Such cryſtal rivulets croſſed our way continually, as we roſe upon the ſide of Saddleback, which towers abruptly on the right, and, on the left, ſinks as ſuddenly into the vale of Threl⯑keld, with precipices ſometimes little leſs than tremendous. This mountain is the northern boundary of the vale in its whole length to Keſwick, the points of whoſe fells cloſe the perſpective. Rocky heights guard it to the ſouth. The valley between is green, with⯑out wood, and, with much that is grand, has little beautiful, till near its concluſion; where, more fertile and ſtill more wild, it di⯑vides into three narrower vallies, two of which diſcloſe ſcenes of ſuch ſublime ſeverity as even our long view of Saddleback had not pre⯑pared us to expect.

The firſt of theſe is the vale of St. John, a narrow, cultivated ſpot, lying in the boſom of tremendous rocks, that impend over it in maſſes of gray crag, and often reſemble the ruins of caſtles. Theſe rocks are overlooked by ſtill more awful mountains, that fall in abrupt lines, and cloſe up the viſta, except where they alſo are com⯑manded by the vaſt top of Helvellyn. On every ſide, are images of deſolation and ſtupendous greatneſs, cloſing upon a narrow line of paſtoral richneſs; a picture of verdant beauty, ſeen through a frame of rock work. It is between the cliffs of Threlkeld-fell and the purple ridge of Nadale-fell, that this vale ſeems to repoſe in its moſt ſilent and perfect peace. No village and ſcarcely a cottage diſ⯑turbs its retirement. The flocks, that feed at the feet of the cliffs, and the ſteps of a ſhepherd, ‘"in this office of his mountain watch,"’ are all, that haunt the ‘"dark ſequeſtered nook."’

[442] The vale of Nadale runs parallel with that of St. John, from which it is ſeparated by the ridge of Nadale-fell, and has the ſame ſtyle of character, except that it is terminated by a well wooded mountain. Beyond this, the perſpective is overlooked by the fells, that terminate the vale of St. John.

The third valley, opening from the head of Threlkeld, winds along the feet of Saddleback and Skiddaw to Keſwick, the approach to which, with all its world of rocky ſummits, the lake being ſtill ſunk below the ſight, is ſublime beyond the power of deſcription. Within three miles of Keſwick, Skiddaw unfolds itſelf, cloſe behind Saddleback; their ſkirts unite, but the former is leſs huge and of very different form from the laſt; being more pointed and ſel⯑domer broken into precipices, it darts upward with a vaſt ſweep into three ſpiry ſummits, two of which only are ſeen from this road, and ſhews ſides dark with heath and little varied with rock. Such is its aſpect from the Penrith road; from other ſtations its atti⯑tude, ſhape and colouring are very different, though its alpine ter⯑minations are always viſible.

Threlkeld itſelf is a ſmall village, about thirteen miles from Pen⯑rith, with a very humble inn, at which thoſe, who have paſſed the bleak ſides of Saddleback, and thoſe, who are entering upon them, may rejoice to reſt. We had been blown about, for ſome hours, in an open chaiſe, and hoped for more refreſhment than could be obtain⯑ed; but had the ſatisfaction, which was, indeed, general in theſe regions, of obſerving the good intentions, amounting almoſt to kindneſs, of the [443] cottagers towards their gueſts. They have nearly always ſome fare, which leſs civility than theirs might render acceptable; and the hearth blazes in their clean ſanded parlours, within two minutes after you enter them. Some ſort of preſerved fruit is conſtantly ferved after the repaſt, with cream, an innocent luxury, for which no animal has died.

It is not only from thoſe, who are to gain by ſtrangers, but from almoſt every perſon, accidentally accoſted by a queſtion, that this fa⯑vourable opinion will be formed, as to the kind and frank manners of the people. We were continually remarking, between Lancaſter and Keſwick, that ſevere as the winter might be in theſe diſtricts, from the early ſymptoms of it then apparent, the conduct of the people would render it ſcarcely unpleaſant to take the ſame journey in the depths of December.

In theſe countries, the farms are, for the moſt part, ſmall, and the farmers and their children work in the ſame fields with their ſer⯑vants. Their families have thus no opportunities of temporary in⯑ſight into the ſociety, and luxuries of the great, and have none of thoſe miſeries, which dejected vanity and multiplied wiſhes inflict upon the purſuers of the higher ranks. They are alſo without the baſeneſs, which ſuch purſuers uſually have, of becoming abject be⯑fore perſons of one claſs, that by the authority of an apparent con⯑nection with them, they may be inſolent to thoſe of another; and are free from the eſſential humiliation of ſhewing, by a general and undiſtinguiſhing admiration of all perſons richer than themſelves, [444] that the original diſtinctions between virtue and vice have been eraſed from their minds by the habit of comparing the high and the low.

The true conſciouſneſs of independence, which labour and an ig⯑norance of the vain appendages, falſely called luxuries, give to the inhabitants of theſe diſtricts, is probably the cauſe of the ſuperiority, perceived by ſtrangers in their tempers and manners, over thoſe of perſons, apparently better circumſtanced. They have no remem⯑brance of ſlights, to be revenged by inſults; no hopes from ſervility, nor irritation from the deſire of unattainable diſtinctions. Where, on the contrary, the encouragement of artificial wants has produced dependence, and mingled with the fictitious appearance of wealth many of the moſt real evils of poverty, the benevolence of the tem⯑per flies with the ſimplicity of the mind. There is, perhaps, not a more odious proſpect of human ſociety, than where an oſtenta⯑tious, manoeuvring and corrupted peaſantry, taking thoſe, who in⯑duce them to crimes, for the models of their morality, mimic the vices, to which they were not born, and attempt the coarſe cover⯑ing of cunning and inſolence for practices, which it is a ſcience and frequently an object of education to conceal by flagitious elegancies. Such perſons form in the country a bad copy of the worſt London ſociety; the vices, without the intelligence, and without the aſſuag⯑ing virtues.

DRUIDICAL MONUMENT.

AFTER paſſing the very ſmall, but neatly furniſhed church of Threlkeld, the condition of which may be one teſtimony to the worthineſs of the neighbourhood, and riſing beyond the vales before deſcribed, we came to the brow of a hill, called Caſtle Rigg, on which, to the left of the road, are the remains of one of thoſe circular monuments, which, by general conſent, are called Druids' Temples. This is formed of thirty-ſeven ſtones, placed in a circle of about twenty-eight yards diameter, the largeſt being not leſs than ſeven feet and a half high, which is double the height of the others. At the eaſtern part of this circle, and within it, ſmaller ſtones are arranged in an oblong of about ſeven yards long, and, at the greateſt breadth, four yards wide. Many of thoſe round the circle appear to have fallen and now remain at unequal diſtances, of which the greateſt is towards the north.

Whether our judgment was influenced by the authority of a Druid's choice, or that the place itſelf commanded the opinion, we thought this ſituation the moſt ſeverely grand of any hitherto paſſed. There is, perhaps, not a ſingle object in the ſcene, that interrupts the ſolemn tone of feeling, impreſſed by its general characters of profound ſolitude, greatneſs and awful wildneſs. Caſtle Rigg is the central point of three vallies, that dart immediately under it from the eye, and whoſe mountains form part of an amphitheatre, which [446] is completed by thoſe of Derwentwater, in the weſt, and by the pre⯑cipices of Skiddaw and Saddleback, cloſe on the north. The hue, which pervades all theſe mountains, is that of dark heath, or rock; they are thrown into every form and direction, that Fancy would ſuggeſt, and are at that diſtance, which allows all their grandeur to prevail; nearer than the high lands, that ſurround Hutton Moor, and further removed than the fells in the ſcenery of Ullſwater.

To the ſouth open the rocks, that diſcloſe the vale of St. John, whoſe verdant beauty bears no proportion to its ſublimity; to the weſt, are piled the ſhattered and fantaſtic points of Derwentwater; to the north, Skiddaw, with its double top, reſembling a volcano, the cloudy vapours aſcending from its higheſt point, like ſmoke, and ſometimes rolling in wreaths down its ſides; and to the eaſt, the vale of Threlkeld, ſpreading green round the baſe of Saddleback, its vaſt ſide-ſkreen, opened to the moorlands, beyond which the ridge of Croſs-fell appeared; its dignity now diminiſhed by diſtance. This point then is ſurrounded by the three grand rivals of Cumberland; huge Helvellyn, ſpreading Saddleback and ſpiry Skiddaw.

Such ſecluſion and ſublimity were, indeed, well ſuited to the deep and wild myſteries of the Druids. Here, at moon-light, every Druid, ſummoned by that terrible horn, never awakened but upon high occaſions, and deſcending from his mountain, or ſecret cave, might aſſemble without intruſion from one ſacrilegious footſtep, and celebrate a midnight feſtival by a ſavage ſacrifice—

Here, too, the Bards,

As we deſcended the ſteep mountain to Keſwick, the romantic fells round the lake opened finely, but the lake itſelf was concealed, deep in its rocky cauldron. We ſaw them under the laſt glow of ſun-ſet, the upward rays producing a miſty purple glory between the dark tops of Cawſey-pikes and the bending peaks of Thornthwaite fells. Soon after, the ſun having ſet to the vale of Keſwick, there appeared, beyond breaks in its weſtern mountains, the rocks of other vallies, ſtill lighted up by a purple gleam, and receiving ſtrong rays on ſhaggy points, to which their receſſes gave ſoft and ſhadowy contraſt. But the magical effect of theſe ſunſhine rocks, oppoſed to the darkneſs of the nearer valley, can ſcarcely be imagined.

Still as we deſcended, the lake of Derwentwater was ſcreened from our view; but the rich level of three miles wide, that ſpreads between [448] it and Baſſenthwaite-water in the ſame vale, lay, like a map, beneath us, chequered with groves and cottages, with encloſures of corn and meadows, and adorned by the pretty village of Croſsthwaite, its neat white church conſpicuous among trees. The fantaſtic fells of Der⯑wentwater bordered this repoſing landſcape, on the weſt, and the mighty Skiddaw roſe over it, on the eaſt, concealing the lake of Baſſenthwaite.

The hollow daſhings of the Greta, in its rocky channel, at the foot of Skiddaw, and in one of the moſt wizard little glens that nature ever fancied, were heard long before we looked down its ſteep woody bank, and ſaw it winding away, from cloſe inacceſſible chaſms, to the vale of Keſwick, corn and meadows ſpread at the top of the left bank, and the crags of Skiddaw ſcowling over it, on the right.

At length, we had a glimpſe of the north end of Derwent⯑water, and ſoon after entered Keſwick, a ſmall place of ſtone houſes, lying at the foot of Caſtle Rigg, near Skiddaw, and about a quar⯑ter of a mile from the lake, which, however, is not ſeen from the town.

We were impatient to view this celebrated lake, and immediately walked down to Crow-park, a green eminence at its northern end, whence it is generally allowed to appear to great advantage. Expec⯑tation had been raiſed too high: Shall we own our diſappointment? Prepared for ſomething more than we had already ſeen, by what has been ſo eloquently ſaid of it, by the view of its vaſt neighbourhood [449] and the grandeur of its approach, the lake itſelf looked inſignificant; and, however rude, or awful, its nearer rocks might have appeared, if ſeen unexpectedly, they were not in general ſo vaſt, or ſo boldly outlined, as to retain a character of ſublimity from compariſon. Oppoſed to the ſimple majeſty of Ullſwater, the lake of Derwent was ſcarcely intereſting. Something muſt, indeed, be attributed to the force of firſt impreſſions; but, with all allowance for this, Ullſwater muſt ſtill retain an high pre-eminence for grandeur and ſublimity.

Derwentwater, however, when more minutely viewed, has pecu⯑liar charms both from beauty and wildneſs, and as the emotions, excited by diſappointed expectation, began to ſubſide, we became ſenſible of them. It ſeems to be nearly of a round form, and the whole is ſeen at one glance, expanding within an amphitheatre of mountains, rocky, but not vaſt, broken into many fantaſtic ſhapes, peaked, ſplintered, impending, ſometimes pyramidal, opening by narrow vallies to the view of rocks, that riſe immediately be⯑yond and are again overlooked by others. The precipices ſeldom overſhoot the water, but are arranged at ſome diſtance, and the ſhores ſwell with woody eminences, or ſink into green, paſtoral margins. Maſſes of wood alſo frequently appear among the cliffs, feathering them to their ſummits, and a white cottage ſometimes peeps from out their ſkirts, ſeated on the ſmooth knoll of a paſture, projecting to the lake, and looks ſo exquiſitely pictureſque, as to ſeem placed there purpoſely to adorn it. The lake in return faithfully reflects [450] the whole picture, and ſo even and brilliantly tranſlucent is its ſur⯑face, that it rather heightens, than obſcures the colouring. Its mild boſom is ſpotted by four ſmall iſlands, of which thoſe called Lords' and St. Herbert's are well wooded, and adorn the ſcene, but another is deformed by buildings, ſtuck over it, like figures upon a twelfth⯑cake.

Beyond the head of the lake, and at a direct diſtance of three or four miles from Crow-park, the paſs of Borrowdale opens, guarded by two piles of rock, the boldeſt in the ſcene, overlooked by many rocky points, and, beyond all, by rude mountain tops which come partially and in glimpſes to the view. Among the moſt ſtriking features of the eaſtern ſhore are the woody cliffs of Lowdore; then, nearer to the eye, Wallow-crags, a title uſed here as well as at Hawſ⯑water, of dark brown rock, looſely impending; nearer ſtill, Caſtle⯑hill, pyramidal and richly wooded to its point, the moſt luxuriant feature of the landſcape. Cawſey-pike, one of the moſt remarkable rocks of the weſtern ſhore, has its ridge ſcolloped into points as if with a row of corbells.

The cultivated vale of Newland ſlopes upward from the lake between theſe and Thornthwaite fells. Northward, beyond Crow⯑park, riſes Skiddaw; at its baſe commences the beautiful level, that ſpreads to Baſſenthwaite-water, where the rocks in the weſt ſide of the perſpective ſoon begin to ſoften, and the vale becomes open and cheerful.

[451] Such is the outline of Derwentwater, which has a much greater proportion of beauty, than Ullſwater, but neither its dignity, nor grandeur. Its fells, broken into ſmaller maſſes, do not ſwell, or ſtart, into ſuch bold lines as thoſe of Ullſwater; nor does the ſize of the lake accord with the general importance of the rocky vale, in which it lies. The water is too ſmall for its accompaniments; and its form, being round and ſeen entirely at once, leaves nothing for expectation to purſue, beyond the ſtretching promontory, or fancy to transform within the gloom and obſcurity of the receding fell; and thus it loſes an ample ſource of the ſublime. The greateſt breadth from eaſt to weſt is not more than three miles. It is not large enough to occupy the eye, and it is not ſo hidden as to have the aſſiſtance of the ima⯑gination in making it appear large. The beauty of its banks alſo, contending with the wildneſs of its rocks, gives oppoſite impreſſions to the mind, and the force of each is, perhaps, deſtroyed by the admiſſion of the other. Sublimity can ſcarcely exiſt, without ſimpli⯑city; and even grandeur loſes much of its elevating effect, when united with a conſiderable portion of beauty; then deſcending to become magnificence. The effect of ſimplicity in aſſiſting that high tone of mind, produced by the ſublime, is demonſtrated by the ſcenery of Ullſwater, where very ſeldom a diſcordant object obtrudes over the courſe of thought, and jars upon the feelings.

But it is much pleaſanter to admire than to examine, and in Der⯑wentwater is abundant ſubject for admiration, though not of ſo high a character as that, which attends Ullſwater. The ſoft undulations [452] of its ſhores, the mingled wood and paſture, that paint them, the brilliant purity of the water, that gives back every landſcape on its bank, and frequently with heightened colouring, the fantaſtic wild⯑neſs of the rocks and the magnificence of the amphitheatre they form; theſe are circumſtances, the view of which excites emotions of ſweet, though tranquil admiration, ſoftening the mind to tenderneſs, rather than elevating it to ſublimity. We firſt ſaw the whole beneath ſuch ſober hues as prevailed when

The wildneſs, ſecluſion, and magical beauty of this vale, ſeem, indeed, to render it the very abode for Milton's Comus, ‘"deep ſkilled in all his mother's witcheries;"’ and, while we ſurvey its fantaſtic features, we are almoſt tempted to ſuppoſe, that he has hurled his

Nay more, to believe

[453] and to fancy we hear from among the woody cliffs, near the ſhore,

ſucceeded by ſuch ſtrains as oft

SKIDDAW.

ON the following morning, having engaged a guide, and with horſes accuſtomed to the labour, we began to aſcend this tre⯑mendous mountain by a way, which makes the ſummit five miles from Keſwick. Paſſing through bowery lanes, luxuriant with moun⯑tain aſh, holly, and a variety of beautiful ſhrubs, to a broad, open common, a road led us to the foot of Latrigg, or, as it is called by the country people, Skiddaw's Cub, a large round hill, covered with heath, turf and browſing ſheep. A narrow path now wound along ſteep green precipices, the beauty of which prevented what danger there was from being perceived. Derwentwater was concealed by others, that roſe above them, but that part of the vale of Keſwick, [454] which ſeparates the two lakes, and ſpreads a rich level of three miles, was immediately below; Croſſthwaite-church, nearly in the centre, with the white vicarage, riſing among trees. More under ſhelter of Skiddaw, where the vale ſpreads into a ſweet retired nook, lay the houſe and grounds of Dr. Brownrigg.

Beyond the level, opened a glimpſe of Baſſenthwaite-water; a lake, which may be called elegant, bounded, on one ſide, by well⯑wooded rocks, and, on the other, by Skiddaw.

Soon after, we roſe above the ſteeps, which had concealed Der⯑wentwater, and it appeared, with all its enamelled banks, ſunk deep amidſt a chaos of mountains, and ſurrounded by ranges of fells, not viſible from below. On the other hand, the more cheerful lake of Baſſenthwaite expanded at its entire length. Having gazed a while on this magnificent ſcene, we purſued the path, and ſoon after reached the brink of a chaſm, on the oppoſite ſide of which wound our future track; for the aſcent is here in an acutely zig-zag direc⯑tion. The horſes carefully picked their ſteps along the narrow precipice, and turned the angle, that led them to the oppoſite ſide.

At length, as we aſcended, Derwentwater dwindled on the eye to the ſmallneſs of a pond, while the grandeur of its amphitheatre was increaſed by new ranges of dark mountains, no longer indivi⯑dually great, but ſo from accumulation; a ſcenery to give ideas of the breaking up of a world. Other precipices ſoon hid it again, but Baſ⯑ſenthwaite continued to ſpread immediately below us, till we turned [455] into the heart of Skiddaw, and were encloſed by its ſteeps. We had now loſt all track even of the flocks, that were ſcattered over theſe tremendous wilds. The guide conducted us by many curvings among the heathy hills and hollows of the mountain; but the aſcents were ſuch, that the horſes panted in the ſloweſt walk, and it was neceſſary to let them reſt every ſix or ſeven minutes. An opening to the ſouth, at length, ſhewed the whole plan of the narrow vales of St. John and of Nadale, ſeparated by the dark ridge of rock, called St. John's-rigg, with each its ſmall line of verdure at the bot⯑tom, and bounded by enormous gray fells, which we were, however, now high enough to overlook.

A white ſpeck, on the top of St. John's rigg, was pointed out by the guide to be a chapel of eaſe to Keſwick, which has no leſs than five ſuch ſcattered among the fells. From this chapel, dedicated to St. John, the rock and the vale have received their name, and our guide told us, that Nadale was frequently known by the ſame title.

Leaving this view, the mountain ſoon again ſhut out all proſpect, but of its own vallies and precipices, covered with various ſhades of turf and moſs, and with heath, of which a dull purple was the pre⯑vailing hue. Not a tree, or buſh appeared on Skiddaw, nor even a ſtone wall any where broke the ſimple greatneſs of its lines. Some⯑times, we looked into tremendous chaſms, where the torrent, heard roaring long before it was ſeen, had worked itſelf a deep channel, and fell from ledge to ledge, foaming and ſhining amidſt the dark rock. Theſe ſtreams are ſublime from the length and precipitancy [456] of their courſe, which, hurrying the ſight with them into the abyſs, act, as it were, in ſympathy upon the nerves, and, to ſave our⯑ſelves from following, we recoil from the view with involuntary horror. Of ſuch, however, we ſaw only two, and thoſe by ſome departure from the uſual courſe up the mountain; but every where met guſhing ſprings, till we were within two miles of the ſummit, when our guide added to the rum in his bottle what he ſaid was the laſt water we ſhould find in our aſcent.

The air now became very thin, and the ſteeps ſtill more difficult of aſcent; but it was often delightful to look down into the green hollows of the mountain, among paſtoral ſcenes, that wanted only ſome mixture of wood to render them enchanting.

About a mile from the ſummit, the way was, indeed, dread⯑fully ſublime, laying, for nearly half a mile, along the ledge of a precipice, that paſſed, with a ſwift deſcent, for probably near a mile, into a glen within the heart of Skiddaw; and not a buſh, or a hil⯑lock interrupted its vaſt length, or, by offering a midway check in the deſcent, diminiſhed the ſear it inſpired. The ridgy ſteeps of Saddleback formed the oppoſite boundary of the glen, and, though really at a conſiderable diſtance, had, from the height of the two mountains, ſuch an appearance of nearneſs, that it almoſt ſeemed as if we could ſpring to its ſide. How much too did ſimplicity in⯑creaſe the ſublime of this ſcenery, in which nothing but mountain, heath and ſky appeared.

But our ſituation was too critical, or too unuſual, to permit the [457] juſt impreſſions of ſuch ſublimity. The hill roſe ſo cloſely above the precipice as ſcarcely to allow a ledge wide enough for a ſingle horſe. We followed the guide in ſilence, and, till we regained the more open wild, had no leiſure for exclamation. After this, the aſcent appeared eaſy and ſecure, and we were bold enough to won⯑der, that the ſteeps near the beginning of the mountain had excited any anxiety.

At length, paſſing the ſkirts of the two points of Skiddaw, which are neareſt to Derwentwater, we approached the third and loftieſt, and then perceived, that their ſteep ſides, together with the ridges, which connect them, were entirely covered near the ſummits with a whitiſh ſhivered ſlate, which threatens to ſlide down them with every guſt of wind. The broken ſtate of this ſlate makes the preſent ſummits ſeem like the ruins of others; a circumſtance as extraordinary in ap⯑pearance as difficult to be accounted for.

The ridge, on which we paſſed from the neighbourhood of the ſecond ſummit to the third, was narrow, and the eye reached, on each ſide, down the whole extent of the mountain, following, on the left, the rocky precipices, that impend over the lake of Baſſen⯑thwaite, and looking, on the right, into the glens of Saddleback, far, far below. But the proſpects, that burſt upon us from every part of the vaſt horizon, when we had gained the ſummit, were ſuch as we had ſcarcely dared to hope for, and muſt now rather venture to enumerate, than to deſcribe.

We ſtood on a pinnacle, commanding the whole dome of the [458] ſky. The proſpects below, each of which had been before conſi⯑dered ſeparately as a great ſcene, were now miniature parts of the immenſe landſcape. To the north, lay, like a map, the vaſt tract of low country, which extends between Baſſenthwaite and the Iriſh Channel, marked with the ſilver circles of the river Derwent, in its progreſs from the lake. Whitehaven and its white coaſt were diſtinctly ſeen, and Cockermouth ſeemed almoſt under the eye. A long blackiſh line, more to the weſt, reſembling a faintly formed cloud, was ſaid by the guide to be the Iſle of Man, who, however, had the honeſty to confeſs, that the mountains of Down in Ireland, which have been ſometimes thought viſible, had never been ſeen by him in the cleareſt weather.

Bounding the low country to the north, the wide Solway Firth, with its indented ſhores, looked like a gray horizon, and the double range of Scottiſh mountains, ſeen dimly through miſt beyond, like lines of dark clouds above it. The Solway appeared ſurpriſingly near us, though at fifty miles diſtance, and the guide ſaid, that, on a bright day, its ſhipping could plainly be diſcerned. Nearly in the north, the heights ſeemed to ſoften into plains, for no object was there viſible through the obſcurity, that had begun to draw over the furtheſt diſtance; but, towards the eaſt, they appeared to ſwell again, and what we were told were the Cheviot hills dawned feebly beyond Northumberland. We now ſpanned the narroweſt part of England, looking from the Iriſh Channel, on one ſide, to the German Ocean, on the other, which latter was, however, ſo far off as to be diſcernible only like a miſt.

[459] Nearer than the county of Durham, ſtretched the ridge of Croſs⯑fell, and an indiſtinct multitude of the Weſtmoreland and York⯑ſhire highlands, whoſe lines diſappeared behind Saddleback, now evidently pre-eminent over Skiddaw, ſo much ſo as to exclude many a height beyond it. Paſſing this mountain in our courſe to the ſouth, we ſaw, immediately below, the fells round Derwent⯑water, the lake itſelf remaining ſtill concealed in their deep rocky boſom. Southward and weſtward, the whole proſpect was a ‘"tur⯑bulent chaos of dark mountains."’ All individual dignity was now loſt in the immenſity of the whole, and every variety of character was overpowered by that of aſtoniſhing and gloomy grandeur.

Over the fells of Borrowdale, and far to the ſouth, the northern end of Windermere appeared, like a wreath of gray ſmoke, that ſpreads along the mountain's ſide. More ſouthward ſtill, and be⯑yond all the fells of the lakes, Lancaſter ſands extended to the faintly ſeen waters of the ſea. Then to the weſt, Duddon ſands gleamed in a long line among the fells of High Furneſs. Immediately under the eye, lay Baſſenthwaite, ſurrounded by many ranges of moun⯑tains, inviſible from below. We overlooked all theſe dark mountains, and ſaw green cultivated vales over the tops of lofty rocks, and other mountains over theſe vales in many ridges, whilſt innumerable nar⯑row glens were traced in all their windings and ſeen uniting behind the hills with others, that alſo ſloped upwards from the lake.

The air on this ſummit was boiſterous, intenſely cold and difficult to be inſpired, though the day was below warm and ſerene. It was [460] dreadful to look down from nearly the brink of the point, on which we ſtood, upon the lake of Baſſenthwaite and over a ſharp and ſe⯑parated ridge of rocks, that from below appeared of tremendous height, but now ſeemed not to reach half way up Skiddaw; it was almoſt as if

Under the lee of an heaped up pile of ſlates, formed by the cuſ⯑tomary contribution of one from every viſitor, we found an old man ſheltered, whom we took to be a ſhepherd, but afterwards learned was a farmer and, as the people in this neighbourhood ſay, a ‘'ſtateſ⯑man;'’ that is, had land of his own. He was a native and ſtill an inhabitant of an adjoining vale; but, ſo laborious is the enterpriſe reckoned, that, though he had paſſed his life within view of the mountain, this was his firſt aſcent. He deſcended with us, for part of our way, and then wound off towards his own valley, ſtalking amidſt the wild ſcenery, his large figure wrapt in a dark cloak and his ſteps occaſionally aſſiſted by a long iron pronged pike, with which he had pointed out diſtant objects.

In the deſcent, it was intereſting to obſerve each mountain below gradually re-aſſuming its dignity, the two lakes expanding into ſpa⯑cious ſurfaces, the many little vallies, that ſloped upwards from their margins, recovering their variegated tints of cultivation, the cattle again appearing in the meadows, and the woody promontories [461] changing from ſmooth patches of ſhade into richly tufted ſummits. At about a mile from the top, a great difference was perceptible in the climate, which became comparatively warm, and the ſummer hum of bees was again heard among the purple heath.

We reached Keſwick, about four o'clock, after five hours paſſed in this excurſion, in which the care of our guide greatly leſſened the notion of danger. Why ſhould we think it trivial to attempt ſome ſervice towards this poor man? We have reaſon to think, that whoever employs, at Keſwick, a guide of the name of Doncaſter, will aſſiſt him in ſupporting an aged parent.

BASSENTHWAITE WATER.

IN a gray autumnal morning, we rode out along the weſtern bank of Baſſenthwaite to Ouſe Bridge, under which the river Derwent, after paſſing through the lake, takes its courſe towards the Sea. The road on this ſide, being impaſſable by carriages, is ſel⯑dom viſited, but it is intereſting for being oppoſed to Skiddaw, which riſes in new attitudes over the oppoſite bank. Beyond the land, that ſeparates the two lakes, the road runs high along the ſides of hills and ſometimes at the feet of tremendous fells, one of which riſes almoſt ſpirally over it, ſhewing a ſurface of ſlates, ſhivered from top to bottom. Further on, the heights gradually ſoften from horror into mild and graceful beauty, opening diſtantly to the cheerful [462] country, that ſpreads towards Whitehaven; but the road ſoon im⯑merges among woods, which allow only partial views of the oppoſite ſhore, inimitably beautiful with copſes, green lawns and paſtures, with gently ſweeping promontories and bays, that receive the lake to their full brims.

From the houſe at Ouſe Bridge the proſpect is exquiſite up the lake, which now loſing the air of a wide river, re-aſſumes its true character, and even appears to flow into the chaſm of rocks, that really incloſe Derwentwater. Skiddaw, with all the mountains round Borrowdale, form a magnificent amphitheatrical perſpective for this noble ſheet of water; the vallies of the two lakes extending to one view, which is, therefore, ſuperior to any exhibited from Derwentwater alone. The proſpect terminates in the dark fells of Borrowdale, which by their ſublimity enhance the beauty and ele⯑gance, united to a ſurpriſing degree in the nearer landſcape.

Beyond Ouſe Bridge, but ſtill at the bottom of the lake, the road paſſes before Armithwaite-houſe, whoſe copſy lawns ſlope to the mar⯑gin of the water from a manſion more finely ſituated than any we had ſeen. It then recedes ſomewhat from the bank, and aſcends the ſkirt of Skiddaw, which it ſcarcely leaves on this ſide of Keſwick. On the oppoſite ſhore, the moſt elegant features are the ſwelling hills, called Wythop-brows, flouriſhing with wood from the water's edge; and, below the meadows of the eaſtern bank, by which we were returning, two peninſulae, the one paſtoral, yet well wooded and embelliſhed by a white hamlet, the other narrow and bearing [463] only a line of trees, iſſuing far into the lake. But the ſhores of Baſ⯑ſenthwaite, though elegant and often beautiful, are too little varied to be long dwelt upon; and attention is ſometimes unpleaſantly engaged by a precipice, from which the road is not ſufficiently ſecu⯑red; ſo that the effect of the whole upon the imagination is much leſs than might be expected from its ſituation at the foot of Skiddaw, and its ſhape, which is more extended than that of Derwentwater.

BORROWDALE.

A SERENE day, with gleams of ſunſhine, gave magical effect to the ſcenery of Derwentwater, as we wound along its eaſtern ſhore to Borrowdale, under cliffs, parts of which, already fallen near the road, increaſed the opinion of danger from the reſt; ſometimes near the edge of precipices, that bend over the water, and, at others, among pleaſure-grounds and copſes, which admit partial views over the lake. Theſe, with every woody promontory and mountain, were perfectly reflected on its ſurface. Not a path-way, not a crag, or ſcar, that ſculptured their bold fronts, but was copied and diſtinctly ſeen even from the oppoſite ſhore in the dark purple mirror below. Now and then, a pleaſure-boat glided by, leaving long ſilver lines, drawn to a point on the ſmooth water, which, as it gave back the painted ſides and gleaming ſail, diſplayed a moving picture.

[464] The colouring of the mountains was, this day, ſurpriſingly various and changeful, ſurpaſſing every thing of the ſame nature, that we had ſeen. The effect of the atmoſphere on mountainous regions is ſometimes ſo ſublime, at others ſo enchantingly beautiful, that the mention of it ought not to be conſidered as trivial, when their aſpect is to be deſcribed. As the ſun-beams fell on different kinds of rock, and diſtance coloured the air, ſome parts were touched with lilac, others with light blue, dark purple, or reddiſh brown, which were often ſeen, at the ſame moment, contraſting with the mellow green of the woods and the brightneſs of ſunſhine; then ſlowly and almoſt imperceptibly changing into other tints. Skiddaw itſelf exhibited much of this variety, during our ride. As we left Keſwick, its points were overſpread with pale azure; on our return, a tint of dark blue ſoftened its features, which were, however, ſoon after involved in deepeſt purple.

Winding under the woods of Barrowſide, we approached Low⯑dore, and heard the thunder of his cataract, joined by the ſounds of others, deſcending within the gloom of the nearer rocks and thickets. The retroſpective views over the lake from Barrowſide are the fineſt in the ride; and, when the road emerges from the woods, a range of rocks riſes over it, where many ſhrubs, and even oaks, aſh, yew, grow in a ſurpriſing manner among the broken ſlates, that cover their ſides. Beyond, at ſome diſtance from the ſhore, appear the awful rocks, that riſe over the fall of Lowdore; that on the right ſhooting up, a vaſt pyramid of naked cliff, above finely wooded [465] ſteeps; while, on the oppoſite ſide of the chaſm, that receives the waters, impends Gowdar-crag, whoſe trees and ſhrubs give only ſhaggineſs to its terrible maſſes, with fragments of which the mea⯑dows below are ſtrewn. There was now little water at Lowdore; but the breadth of its channel and the height of the perpendicular rock, from which it leaps, told how tremendous it could be; yet even then its ſublimity is probably derived chiefly from the cliff and moun⯑tain, that tower cloſely over it.

Here Borrowdale begins, its rocks ſpreading in a vaſt ſweep round the head of the lake, at the diſtance, perhaps, of half a mile from the ſhore, which bears meadow land to the water's brink. The aſpect of theſe rocks, with the fragments, that have rolled from their ſum⯑mits, and lie on each ſide of the road, prepared us for the ſcene of tremendous ruin we were approaching in the gorge, or paſs of Bor⯑rowdale, which opens from the centre of the amphitheatre, that binds the head of Derwentwater. Dark rocks yawn at its entrance, terrific as the wildneſs of a maniac; and diſcloſe a narrow paſs, running up between mountains of granite, that are ſhook into almoſt every poſ⯑ſible form of horror. All above reſembles the accumulations of an earthquake; ſplintered, ſhivered, piled, amaſſed. Huge cliffs have rolled down into the glen below, where, however, is ſtill a miniature of the ſweeteſt paſtoral beauty, on the banks of the river Derwent; but deſcription cannot paint either the wildneſs of the mountains, or the paſtoral and ſylvan peace and ſoftneſs, that wind at their baſe.

Among the moſt ſtriking of the fells are Glaramara, ſhewing [466] rock on rock; and Eagle-crag, where, till lately, that bird built its neſt; but the depredations, annually committed on its young, have driven it from the place. Hence we purſued the paſs for a mile, over a frightful road, that climbs among the crags of a precipice above the river, having frequently glimpſes into glens and chaſms, where all paſſage ſeemed to be obſtructed by the fallen ſhivers of rock, and at length reached the gigantic ſtone of Bowther, that appears to have been pitched into the ground from the ſummit of a neighbouring fell, and is ſhaped, like the roof of a houſe reverſed.

This is one of the ſpectacles of the country. Its ſize makes it impoſſible to have been ever moved by human means; and, if it fell from the neareſt of the rocks, it muſt have rolled upon the ground much further than can be readily conceived of the motion of ſuch a maſs. The ſide towards the road projects about twelve feet over the baſe, and ſerves to ſhelter cattle in a penn, of which it is made to form one boundary. A ſmall oak plant and a ſloe have found ſoil enough to flouriſh in at the top; and the baſe is pitched on a cliff over the river, whence a long perſpective of the gorge is ſeen, with a little level of bright verdure, ſpreading among more diſtant fells and winding away into trackleſs regions, where the mountains lift their ruffian heads in undiſputed authority. Below, the ſhrunk Derwent ſer⯑pentized along a wide bed of pebbles, that marked its wintry courſe, and left a wooded iſland, flouriſhing amidſt the waſte. The ſtillneſs around us was only feebly broken by the remote ſounds of many unſeen cataracts, and ſometimes by the voices of mountaineer chil⯑dren, [467] ſhouting afar off, and pleaſing themſelves with rouſing the echoes of the rocks.

In returning, the view opened, with great magnificence, from the jaws of this paſs over the lake to Skiddaw, then ſeen from its baſe, with the upper ſteeps of Saddleback obliquely beyond, and rearing itſelf far above all the heights of the eaſtern ſhore. At the entrance of the gorge, the village or hamlet of Grange lies pictureſquely on the bank of the Derwent among wood and meadows, and ſheltered under the ruinous fell, called Caſtlecrag, that takes its name from the caſtle, or fortreſs, which from its crown once guarded this important paſs.

Borrowdale abounds in valuable mines, among which ſome are known to ſupply the fineſt wadd, or black lead, to be found in Eng⯑land. Iron, ſlate, and free ſtone of various kinds, are alſo the trea⯑ſures of theſe mountains.

FROM KESWICK TO WINDERMERE.

THE road from Keſwick to Ambleſide commences by the aſcent of Caſtle-rigg, the mountain, which the Penrith road deſcends, and which, on that ſide, is crowned by a Druid's temple. The riſe is now very laborious, but the views it affords over the vale of Keſwick are not dearly purchaſed by the fatigue. All Baſſen⯑thwaite, its mountains ſoftening away in the perſpective, and termi⯑nating, on the weſt, in the ſiſter woods of Wythorp-brows, extends from the eye; and, immediately beneath, the northern end of Der⯑wentwater, with Cawſey-pike, Thornthwaite-fell, the rich upland vale of Newland peeping from between their baſes, and the ſpiry woods of Foepark jutting into the lake below. But the fineſt pro⯑ſpect is from a gate about halfway up the hill, whence you look down upon the head of Derwentwater, with all the alps of Borrowdale, opening darkly.

After deſcending Caſtle-rigg and croſſing the top of St. John's vale, we ſeemed as if going into baniſhment from ſociety, the road then leading over a plain, cloſely ſurrounded by mountains ſo wild, that neither a cottage, or a wood ſoften their rudeneſs, and ſo ſteep and barren, that not even ſheep appear upon their ſides. From this plain the road enters Legberthwaite, a narrow valley, running at the [469] back of Borrowdale, green at the bottom, and varied with a few farms, but without wood, and with fells of gray precipices, riſing to great height and nearly perpendicular on either hand, whoſe fronts are marked only by the torrents, that tumble from their utmoſt ſum⯑mits, and perpetually occur. We often ſtopped to liſten to their hol⯑low ſounds amidſt the ſolitary greatneſs of the ſcene, and to watch their headlong fall down the rocky chaſms, their white foam and ſil⯑ver line contraſting with the dark hue of the clefts. In ſublimity of deſcent theſe were frequently much ſuperior to that of Lowdore, but as much inferior to it in maſs of water and pictureſque beauty.

As the road aſcended towards Helvellyn, we looked back through this vaſt rocky viſta to the ſweet vale of St. John, lengthening the perſpective, and ſaw, as through a teleſcope, the broad broken ſteeps of Saddleback and the points of Skiddaw, darkly blue, cloſing it to the north. The grand rivals of Cumberland were now ſeen toge⯑ther; and the road, ſoon winding high over the ſkirts of Helvellyn, brought us to Leathes-water, to which the mountain forms a vaſt ſide-ſkreen, during its whole length. This is a long, but narrow and unadorned lake, having little elſe than walls of rocky fells, ſtart⯑ing from its margin. Continuing on the precipice, at ſome height from the ſhore, the road brought us, after three miles, to the poor village of Wythburn, and ſoon after to the foot of Dunmail Rays, which, though a conſiderable aſcent, forms the dip of two lofty mountains, Steel-fell and Seat Sandle, that riſe with finely-ſweeping lines, on each ſide, and ſhut up the vale.

[470] Beyond Dunmail Rays, one of the grand paſſes from Cumberland into Weſtmoreland, Helm-crag rears its creſt, a ſtrange fantaſtic ſum⯑mit, round, yet jagged and ſplintered, like the wheel of a water-mill, overlooking Graſmere, which, ſoon after, opened below. A green ſpreading circle of mountains emboſoms this ſmall lake, and, beyond, a wider range riſes in amphitheatre, whoſe rocky tops are rounded and ſcolloped, yet are great, wild, irregular, and were then over⯑ſpread with a tint of faint purple. The ſofteſt verdure margins the water, and mingles with corn encloſures and woods, that wave up the hills; but ſcarcely a cottage any where appears, except at the northern end of the lake, where the village of Graſmere and its very neat white church ſtand among trees, near the ſhore, with Helm⯑crag and a multitude of fells, riſing over it and beyond each other in the perſpective.

The lake was clear as glaſs, reflecting the headlong mountains, with every feature of every image on its tranquil banks; and one green iſland varies, but ſcarcely adorns its ſurface, bearing only a rude and now ſhadeleſs hut. At a conſiderable height above the water, the road undulates for a mile, till, near the ſouthern end of Graſmere, it mounts the crags of a fell, and ſeemed carrying us again into ſuch ſcenes of ruin and privation as we had quitted with Legberthwaite and Leathes-water. But, deſcending the other ſide of the mountain, we were ſoon cheered by the view of plantations, enriching the banks of Rydal-water, and by thick woods, ming⯑ling among cliffs above the narrow lake, which winds through a [471] cloſe valley, for about a mile. This lake is remarkable for the beauty of its ſmall round iſlands, luxuriant with elegant trees and ſhrubs, and whoſe banks are green to the water's edge. Rydal-hall ſtands finely on an eminence, ſomewhat withdrawn from the eaſt end, in a cloſe romantic nook, among old woods, that feather the fells, which riſe over their ſummits, and ſpread widely along the neighbouring eminences. This antient white manſion looks over a rough graſſy deſcent, ſcreened by groves of oak and majeſtic planes, towards the head of Windermere, about two miles diſtant, a ſmall glimpſe of which is caught beyond the wooded ſteeps of a narrow valley. In the woods and in the diſpoſition of the ground round Rydal-hall there is a charming wildneſs, that ſuits the character of the general ſcene; and, wherever art appears, it is with graceful plainneſs and meek ſubjection to nature.

The taſte, by which a caſcade in the pleaſure-grounds, pouring under the arch of a rude bridge, amidſt the green tint of woods, is ſhewn through a darkened garden-houſe, and, therefore, with all the effect, which the oppoſition of light and ſhade can give, is even not too artificial; ſo admirably is the intent accompliſhed of making all the light, that is admitted, fall upon the objects, which are chiefly meant to be obſerved.

The road to Ambleſide runs through the valley in front of Rydal⯑hall, and for ſome diſtance among the grounds that belong to it, where again the taſte of the owner is conſpicuous in the diſpoſition of plantations among paſtures of extraordinary richneſs, and where [472] pure rivulets are ſuffered to wind without reſtraint over their dark rocky channels. Woods mantle up the cliffs on either ſide of this ſweet valley, and, higher ſtill, the craggy ſummits of the fells crowd over the ſcene. Two miles among its pleaſant ſhades, near the banks of the murmuring Rotha, brought us to Ambleſide, a black and very antient little town, hanging on the lower ſteeps of a moun⯑tain, where the vale opens to the head of

WINDERMERE,

WHICH appeared at ſome diſtance below, in gentle yet ſtately beauty; but its boundaries ſhewed nothing of the ſublimity and little of the romantic wildneſs, that charms, or elevates in the ſcenery of the other lakes. The ſhores, and the hills, which gra⯑dually aſcend from them, are in general richly cultivated, or wooded, and correctly elegant; and when we deſcended upon the bank the road ſeemed leading through the artificial ſhades of pleaſure-grounds. It undulates for two miles over low promontories and along ſpacious bays, full to their fringed margin with the abundance of this expan⯑ſive lake; then, quitting the bank, it aſcends gradual eminences, that look upon the vaſt plain of water, and riſe amidſt the richeſt land⯑ſcapes of its ſhores. The manners of the people would have ſuffi⯑ciently informed us that Windermere is the lake moſt frequented; [473] and with the great ſublimity of the more ſequeſtered ſcenes, we had to regret the intereſting ſimplicity of their inhabitants, a ſimplicity which accorded ſo beautifully with the dignified character of the country. The next day, we viſited ſeveral of the neighbouring heights, whence the lake is ſeen to great advantage; and, on the following, ſkirted the eaſtern ſhore for ſix miles to the Ferry.

Windermere, above twelve miles long and generally above a mile broad, but ſometimes two, ſweeps like a majeſtic river with an eaſy bend between low points of land and eminences that, ſhaded with wood and often embelliſhed with villas, ſwell into hills cultivated to their ſummits; except that, for about ſix miles along the middle of the weſtern ſhore, a range of rocky fells riſe over the water. But theſe have nothing either pictureſque or fantaſtic in their ſhape; they are heavy, not broken into parts, and their rudeneſs ſoftens into inſig⯑nificance, when they are ſeen over the wide channel of the lake; they are neither large enough to be grand, or wooded enough to be beautiful. To the north, or head of Windermere, however, the tameneſs of its general character diſappears, and the ſcene ſoars into grandeur. Here, over a ridge of rough brown hills above a woody ſhore, riſe, at the diſtance of a mile and half, or two miles, a mul⯑titude of finely alpine mountains, retiring obliquely in the perſpec⯑tive, among which Langdale-pikes, Hardknot and Wry-noſe, bearing their bold, pointed promontories aloft, are pre-eminent. The co⯑louring of theſe mountains, which are ſome of the grandeſt of Cum⯑berland [474] and Weſtmoreland, was this day remarkably fine. The weather was ſhowery, with gleams of ſunſhine; ſometimes their tops were entirely concealed in gray vapours, which, drawing up⯑wards, would ſeem to aſcend in volumes of ſmoke from their ſum⯑mits; at others, a few ſcattered clouds wandered along their ſides, leaving their heads unveiled and effulgent with light. Theſe clouds diſappearing before the ſtrength of the ſun, a fine downy hue of light blue overſpread the peeping points of the moſt diſtant fells, while the nearer ones were tinged with deep purple, which was oppoſed to the brown heath and crag of the lower hills, the olive green of two wooded ſlopes that, juſt tinted by autumn, ſeemed to deſcend to the margin, and the ſilver tranſparency of the expanding water at their feet. This view of Windermere appears with great ma⯑jeſty from a height above Culgarth, a ſeat of the Biſhop of Landaff; while, to the ſouth, the lake after ſweeping about four miles gradu⯑ally narrows and diſappears behind the great iſland, which ſtretches acroſs the perſpective.

At the diſtance of two or three miles beyond Culgarth, from a hill advancing towards the water, the whole of Windermere is ſeen; to the right, is the white manſion at Culgarth, among wood, on a gentle eminence of the ſhore, with the lake ſpreading wide beyond, crowned by the fells half obſcured in clouds. To the ſouth, the hills of the eaſtern ſhore, ſloping gradually, run out in elegant and often well wooded points into the water, and are ſpotted with villas and varied above with encloſures. The oppoſite ſhore is for about [475] a mile ſouthward a continuation of the line of rock before noticed, from which Rawlinſon's-nab puſhes a bold headland over the lake; the perſpective then ſinks away in low hills, and is croſſed by a re⯑mote ridge, that cloſes the ſcene.

The villages of Rayrig and Bowneſs, which are paſſed in the way to the Ferry, both ſtand delightfully; one on an eminence com⯑manding the whole lake, and the other within a receſs of the ſhore, nearly oppoſite the large iſland. The winding banks of Winder⯑mere continually open new landſcapes as you move along them, and the mountains, which crown its head, are as frequently changing their attitudes; but Langdale-pikes, the boldeſt features in the ſcene, are ſoon loſt to the eye behind the nearer fells of the weſtern ſhore.

The ferry is conſiderably below Chriſtian's iſland, and at the narroweſt ſpan of the lake, where two points of the ſhore extend to meet each other. This iſland, ſaid to contain thirty acres, inter⯑mingled with wood, lawn and ſhrubberies, embelliſhes, without de⯑creaſing the dignity of the ſcene; it is ſurrounded by attendant iſlets, ſome rocky, but others, beautifully covered with [...], ſeem to coronet the flood.

In croſſing the water the illuſions of viſion give force to the northern mountains, which viewed from hence appear to aſcend from its margin and to ſpread round it in a magnificent amphithea⯑tre. This was to us the moſt intereſting view on Windermere.

On our approaching the weſtern ſhore, the range of rocks that form it, diſcovered their cliffs, and gradually aſſumed a conſequence, [476] which the breadth of the channel had denied them; and their dark⯑neſs was well oppoſed by the bright verdure and variegated autumnal tints of the iſles at their baſe. On the bank, under ſhelter of theſe rocks, a white houſe was ſeen beyond the tall boles of a moſt lux⯑uriant grove of plane-trees, which threw their ſhadows over it, and on the margin of the ſilver lake ſpreading in front. From hence the road aſcends the ſteep and craggy ſide of Furneſs-fell, on the brow of which we had a laſt view of Windermere, in its whole courſe; to the ſouth, its tame but elegant landſcapes gliding away into low and long perſpective, and the lake gradually narrowing; to the north, its more impreſſive ſcenery; but the fineſt features of it were now concealed by a continuation of the rocks we were upon.

Windermere is diſtinguiſhed from all the other lakes of this coun⯑try by its ſuperior length and breath, by the gentle hills, cultivated and encloſed nearly to their ſummits, that generally bind its ſhores, by the gradual diſtance and fine diſpoſition of the northern moun⯑tains, by the bold ſweeps of its numerous bays, by the villas that ſpeckle and rich plantations that wind them, and by one large iſland, ſurrounded by many iſlets, which adds dignity to its boſom. On the other lakes the iſlands are prettineſſes, that do not accord with the character of the ſcene; they break alſo the ſurface of the water where vaſt continuity is required; and the mind cannot endure to deſcend ſuddenly from the gigantic ſublimity of nature to her fairy ſports. Yet, on the whole, Windermere was to us the leaſt impreſſive of all the lakes. Except to the north, where the retiring mountains [477] are diſpoſed with uncommon grandeur of outline and magnificence of colouring, its ſcenery is tame, having little of the wild and nothing of the aſtoniſhing energy that appears on the features of the more ſequeſtered diſtricts. The characters of the three great lakes may, perhaps, be thus diſtinguiſhed:

Windermere: Diffuſiveneſs, ſtately beauty, and, at the upper end, magnificence.

Ullſwater: Severe grandeur and ſublimity; all that may give ideas of vaſt power and aſtoniſhing majeſty. The effect of Ullſwater is, that, awful as its ſcenery appears, it awakens the mind to expecta⯑tion ſtill more awful, and, touching all the powers of imagination, inſpires that ‘"fine phrenſy"’ deſcriptive of the poet's eye, which not only bodies forth unreal forms, but imparts to ſubſtantial objects a character higher than their own.

Derwentwater: Fantaſtic wildneſs and romantic beauty, but infe⯑rior to Ullſwater in greatneſs, both of water and rocks; for, though it charms and elevates, it does not diſplay ſuch features and circum⯑ſtances of the ſublime, or call up ſuch expectation of unimaged and uncertain wonder. A principal defect, if we may venture to call it ſo, of Derwentwater is, that the water is too ſmall in proportion for the amphitheatre of the valley in which it lies, and therefore loſes much of the dignity, that in other circumſtances it would exhibit. The fault of Windermere is, perhaps, exactly the reverſe; where the ſhores, not generally grand, are rendered tamer by the ample expanſe of the lake. The proportions of Ullſwater are more juſt, and, [478] though its winding form gives it in ſome parts the air of a river, the abrupt and tremendous height of its rocks, the dark and crowding ſummits of the fells above, the manner in which they encloſe it, together with the dignity of its breadth, empower it conſtantly to affect the mind with emotions of aſtoniſhment and lofty expectation.

FROM WINDERMERE TO HAWKSHEAD, THURSTON-LAKE AND ULVERSTON.

AFTER aſcending the laborious crags and precipices of Furneſs-fell, enlivened, however, by frequent views of the ſouthern end of Windermere, the road immediately deſcends the oppoſite ſide of the mountain, which ſhuts out the beautiful ſcenery of the lake; but the proſpect ſoon after opens to other mountains of Furneſs, in the diſtance, which revive the expectation of ſuch ſublimity as we had lately regretted, and to Eſthwait-water in the valley below. This is a narrow, pleaſant lake, about half a mile broad and two miles long, with gradual hills, green to their tops, riſing round the mar⯑gin; with plantations and paſtures alternately ſpreading along the eaſy ſhores and white farms ſcattered ſparingly upon the ſlopes above. The water ſeems to glide through the quiet privacy of plea⯑ſure-grounds; ſo ſine is the turf on its banks, ſo elegant its copſes, and ſuch an air of peace and retirement prevails over it. A neat [479] white village lies at the feet of the hills near the head of the lake; beyond it is the gray town of Hawkſhead, with its church and par⯑ſonage on an eminence commanding the whole valley. Steep hills riſe over them, and, more diſtant, the tall heads of the Coniſton⯑fells, dark and awful, with a confuſion of other mountains.

Hawkſhead, thus delightfully placed, is an antient, but ſmall town, with a few good houſes, and a neat town-houſe, lately built by ſub⯑ſcriptions, of which the chief part was gratefully ſupplied by London merchants, who had been educated at the free ſchool here; and this ſchool itſelf is a memorial of gratitude, having been founded by Archbiſhop Sandys for the advantage of the town, which gave him birth. Near Hawkſhead are the remains of the houſe, where the Abbot of Furneſs ‘"kept reſidence by one or more monks, who per⯑formed divine ſervice and other parochial duties in the neighbour⯑hood."’ There is ſtill a court-room over the gateway, ‘"where the bailiff of Hawkſhead held court, and diſtributed juſtice, in the name of the aboot."’

From the tremendous ſteeps of the long fell, which towers over Hawkſhead, aſtoniſhing views open to the diſtant vales and moun⯑tains of Cumberland; overlooking all the groteſque ſummits in the neighbourhood of Graſmere, the fells of Borrowdale in the furtheſt diſtance, Langdale-pikes, and ſeveral ſmall lakes, ſeen gleaming in the boſom of the mountains. Before us, roſe the whole multitude of Coniſton-fells, of immenſe height and threatening forms, their tops thinly darkened with thunder miſts, and, on the left, Furneſs-[480]fells ſinking towards the bay, which Ulverſton ſands form for the ſea.

As we advanced, Coniſton-fells ſeemed to multiply, and became ſtill more impreſſive, till, having reached at length the ſummit of the mountain, we looked down upon Thurſton-lake immediately below, and ſaw them riſing abruptly round its northern end in ſome⯑what of the ſublime attitudes and dark majeſty of Ullſwater. A range of lower rocks, nearer to the eye, exhibited a very peculiar and gro⯑teſque appearance, coloured ſcars and deep channels marking their purple ſides, as if they had been rifted by an earthquake.

The road deſcends the flinty ſteeps towards the eaſtern bank of the lake, that ſpreads a ſurface of ſix miles in length and generally three quarters of a mile in breadth, not winding in its courſe, yet much indented with bays, and preſenting nearly its whole extent at once to the eye. The grandeſt features are the fells, that crown its north⯑ern end, not diſtantly and gradually, like thoſe of Windermere, nor varied like them with magnificent colouring, but riſing in haughty abruptneſs, dark, rugged and ſtupendous, within a quarter of a mile of the margin, and ſhutting out all proſpect of other mountain-ſum⯑mits. At their feet, paſtures ſpread a bright green to the brim of the lake. Nearly in the centre of theſe fells, which open in a ſemicircle to receive the lake, a cataract deſcends, but its ſhining line is not of a breadth proportioned to the vaſtneſs of its perpendicular fall. The village of Coniſton is ſweetly ſeated under ſhelter of the rocks; and, at a diſtance beyond, on the edge of the water, the antient hall, [481] or priory, ſhews its turret and ivyed ruins among old woods. The whole picture is reflected in the liquid mirror below. The gay, convivial chorus, or ſolemn veſper, that once ſwelled along the lake from theſe conſecrated walls, and awakened, perhaps, the enthu⯑ſiaſm of the voyager, while evening ſtole upon the ſcene, is now con⯑traſted by deſolation and profound repoſe, and, as he glides by, he hears only the daſhing of his oars, or the ſurge beating on the ſhore.

This lake appeared to us one of the moſt charming we had ſeen. From the ſublime mountains, which bend round its head, the heights, on either ſide, decline towards the ſouth into waving hills, that form its ſhores, and often ſtretch in long ſweeping points into the water, generally covered with tufted wood, but ſometimes with the tender verdure of paſturage. The tops of theſe woods were juſt embrowned with autumn, and contraſted well with other ſlopes, rough and heathy, that roſe above, or fell beſide them to the water's brink, and added force to the colouring, which the reddiſh tints of decaying fern, the purple bloom of heath, and the bright golden gleams of broom, ſpread over theſe elegant banks. Their hues, the graceful undulations of the marginal hills and bays, the richneſs of the woods, the ſolemnity of the northern fells and the deep repoſe, that pervades the ſcene, where only now and then a white cottage or a farm lurks among the trees, are circumſtances, which render Thurſton-lake one of the moſt intereſting and, perhaps, the moſt beautiful of any in the country.

The road undulates over copſy hills, and dips into ſhallow vallies [482] along the whole of the eaſtern bank, ſeldom greatly elevated above the water, or deſcending to a level with it, but frequently opening to extenſive views of its beauties, and again ſhrouding itſelf in verdant gloom. The moſt impreſſive pictures were formed by the fells, that crowd over the upper end of the lake, and which, viewed from a low ſtation, ſometimes appeared nearly to encloſe that part of it. The effect was then aſtoniſhingly grand, particularly about ſun-ſet, when the clouds, drawing upwards, diſcovered the utmoſt ſummits of theſe fells, and a tint of duſky blue began to prevail over them, which gradually deepened into night. A line of lower rocks, that extend from theſe, are, independently of the atmoſphere, of a dull purple, and their ſhaggy forms would appear gigantic in almoſt any other ſituation. Even here, they preſerve a wild dignity, and their atti⯑tudes ſomewhat reſemble thoſe at the entrance of Borrowdale; but they are forgotten, when the eye is lifted to the ſolemn mountains immediately above. Theſe are rich in ſlate quarries, and have ſome copper mines; but the latter were cloſed, during the civil wars of the laſt century, having been worked, as we are told in the deſcriptive language of the miners, from the day to the evening end, forty fathom, and to the morning end ſeven ſcore fathom; a ſigurative ſtyle of diſtinguiſhing the weſtern and eaſtern directions of the mine. The lake, towards the lower end, narrows and is adorned by one ſmall iſland; but here the hills of the eaſtern ſhore ſoar into fells, ſome barren, craggy and nearly perpendicular, others en⯑tirely covered with coppice-wood. Two of theſe, riſing over the [483] road, gave fine relief to each other, the one ſhewing only precipices of ſhelving rock, while its rival aſpired with woods, that mantled from the baſe to the ſummit, conſiſting chiefly of oak, aſh and holly. Not any lake, that we ſaw, is at preſent ſo much embelliſhed with wood as Thurſton. All the mountains of High and the vallies of Low Furneſs were, indeed, ſome centuries ago, covered with foreſts, part of which was called the Foreſt of Lancaſter; and theſe were of ſuch entangled luxuriance as to be nearly impenetrable in many tracts. Here, wolves, wild boars, and a remarkably large breed of deer, called Leghs, the heads of which have frequently been found buried at a conſiderable depth in the ſoil, abounded. So ſecure an aſylum did theſe animals find in the woods of High Furneſs, that, even after the low lands were cleared and cultivated, ſhepherds were neceſſary to guard the flocks from the ravages of the wolves. Towards the end of the thirteenth century, the upper foreſts alſo were nearly deſtroyed.

In winter, the ſhepherds uſed to feed their flocks with the young ſprouts of aſh and holly, a cuſtom ſaid to be ſtill obſerved; the ſheep coming at the call of the ſhepherd and aſſembling round the holly⯑tree to receive from his hand the young ſhoots cropped for them^*. Whenever the woods are felled, which is too frequently done, to ſup⯑ply fuel for the neighbouring furnaces, the holly is ſtill held ſacred to the flocks of theſe mountains.

[484] Soon after paſſing the iſland, the road enters the village of Nib⯑thwaite, rich only in ſituation; for the cottages are miſerable. The people ſeemed to be as ignorant as poor; a young man knew not how far it was to Ulverſton, or as he called it Ulſon, though it was only five miles.

On the point of a promontory of the oppoſite ſhore, em⯑boſomed in ancient woods, the chimnies and pointed roof of a gray manſion look out moſt intereſtingly. The woods open par⯑tially to the north, and admit a view of the Swiſs ſcenery at the head of the lake, in its fineſt poſition. On the other ſides, the oaks ſo embower the houſe and ſpread down the rocks, as ſcarcely to allow it a glimpſe of the water bickering between the dark foliage below.

At Nibthwaite, the lake becomes narrow and gradually decreaſes, till it terminates at Lowick-bridge, where it glides away in the little river Crake, which deſcends to Ulverſton ſands. We ſtopped upon the bridge to take a laſt view of the ſcene; the diſtant fells were diſappearing in twilight, but the gray lake gleamed at their baſe. From the ſteeps of a lofty mountain, that roſe near us on the right, cattle were ſlowly deſcending for the night, winding among the crags, ſometimes ſtopping to crop the heath, or broom, and then diſ⯑appearing for a moment behind the darker verdure of yews, that grew in knots upon the cliffs.

It was night before we reached Ulverſton. The wind ſounded [485] mournfully among the hills and we perceived our approach to the ſea only by the faint roaring of the tide, till from a brow, whence the hills open on either hand with a grand ſweep, we could juſt diſ⯑cern the gray ſurface of the ſea-bay, at a diſtance below, and then, by lights that glimmered in the bottom, the town of Ulverſton, lying not far from the ſhore and ſcreened on the north by the heights, from which we were to deſcend.

Ulverſton is a neat but ancient town, the capital and chief port of Furneſs. The road from it to the majeſtic ruin of Furneſs Abbey lies through Low Furneſs, and loſes the general wildneſs and intereſt of the country, except where now and then the diſtant retroſpect of the mountains breaks over the tame hills and regular encloſures, that border it.

About a mile and a half on this ſide of the Abbey, the road paſſes through Dalton, a very antient little town, once the capital of Low Furneſs, and rendered ſo important by its neighbourhood to the Abbey, that Ulverſton, the preſent capital, could not then ſupport the weekly market, for which it had obtained a charter. Dalton, however, ſunk with the ſuppreſſion of its neighbouring patrons, and is now chiefly diſtinguiſhed by the pleaſantneſs of its ſituation, to which a church, built on a bold aſcent, and the remains of a caſtle, advantageouſly placed for the command of the adjoining valley, ſtill attach ſome degree of dignity. What now exiſts of the latter is one tower, in a chamber of whichthe Abbot of Furneſs held his ſecular [486] Court; and the chamber was afterwards uſed as a gaol for debtors, till within theſe few years, when the dead ruin releaſed the living one. The preſent church-yard and the ſcite of this caſtle are ſuppoſed to have been included within the limits of a caſtellum, built by Agricola, of the foſſe of which there are ſtill ſome faint veſtiges.

Beneath the brow, on which the church and tower ſtand, a brook flows through a narrow valley, that winds about a mile and a half to the Abbey. In the way thither we paſſed the entrance of one of the very rich iron mines, with which the neighbourhood abounds; and the deep red tint of the ſoil, that overſpreads almoſt the whole country between Ulverſton and the monaſtery, ſufficiently indicates the nature of the treaſures beneath.

In a cloſe glen, branching from this valley, ſhrouded by winding banks clumped with old groves of oak and cheſnut, we found the magnificent remains of

FURNESS ABBEY.

THE deep retirement of its ſituation, the venerable gran⯑deur of its gothic arches and the luxuriant yet ancient trees, that ſhadow this forſaken ſpot, are circumſtances of pictureſque and, if the expreſſion may be allowed, of ſentimental beauty, which fill the mind with ſolemn yet delightful emotion. This glen is called the Vale of Nightſhade, or, more literally from its ancient title Bekangs⯑gill, the ‘"glen of deadly nightſhade,"’ that plant being abundantly found in the neighbourhood. Its romantic gloom and ſequeſtered privacy particularly adapted it to the auſterities of monaſtic life; and in the moſt retired part of it King Stephen, while Earl of Mortaign and Bulloign, founded, in the year 1127, the magnificent monaſtery of Furneſs, and endowed it with princely wealth and almoſt princely authority, in which it was ſecond only to Fontain's-abbey in York⯑ſhire.

The windings of the glen conceal theſe venerable ruins, till they are cloſely approached, and the bye road, that conducted us, is mar⯑gined with a few ancient oaks, which ſtretch their broad branches entirely acroſs it, and are ſinely preparatory objects to the ſcene beyond. A ſudden bend in this road brought us within view of the northern gate of the Abbey, a beautiful gothic arch, one ſide of which is luxuriantly feſtooned with nightſhade. A thick grove of [488] plane-trees, with ſome oak and beech, overſhadow it on the right, and lead the eye onward to the ruins of the Abbey, ſeen through this dark arch in remote perſpective, over rough but verdant ground. The principal features are the great northern window and part of the eaſtern choir, with glimpſes of ſhattered arches and ſtately walls be⯑yond, caught between the gaping caſements. On the left, the bank of the glen is broken into knolls capped with oaks, which in ſome places ſpread downwards to a ſtream that winds round the ruin, and darken it with their rich foliage. Through this gate is the entrance to the immediate precincts of the Abbey, an area ſaid to contain ſixty-five acres, now called the Deer-park. It is encloſed by a ſtone wall, on which the remains of many ſmall buildings and the faint veſtiges of others, ſtill appear; ſuch as the porter's lodge, mills, granaries, ovens and kilns that once ſupplied the monaſtery, ſome of which, ſeen under the ſhade of the fine old trees, that on every ſide adorn the broken ſteeps of this glen, have a very intereſting effect.

Juſt within the gate, a ſmall manor houſe of modern date, with its ſtables and other offices, breaks diſcordantly upon the lonely gran⯑deur of the ſcene. Except this, the character of the deſerted ruin is ſcrupulouſly preſerved in the ſurrounding area; no ſpade has dared to level the inequalities, which fallen fragments have occaſioned in the ground, or ſhears to clip the wild fern and underwood, that overſpread it; but every circumſtance conſpires to heighten the ſoli⯑tary grace of the principal object and to prolong the luxurious me⯑lancholy, which the view of it inſpires. We made our way among [489] the pathleſs fern and graſs to the north end of the church, now, like every other part of the Abbey, entirely roofleſs, but ſhewing the lofty arch of the great window, where, inſtead of the painted glaſs that once enriched it, are now tufted plants and wreaths of nightſhade. Below is the principal door of the church, bending into a deep round arch, which, retiring circle within circle, is rich and beautiful; the remains of a winding ſtair-caſe are viſible within the wall on its left ſide. Near this northern end of the edifice are ſeen one ſide of the eaſtern choir, with its two ſlender gothic window frames, and on the weſt a remnant of the nave of the Abbey and ſome lofty arches, which once belonged to the belfry, now detached from the main building.

To the ſouth, but concealed from this point of view, are the chapter-houſe, ſome years ago exhibiting a roof of beautiful gothic ſretwork, and which was almoſt the only part of the Abbey thus or⯑namented, its architecture having been characteriſed by an air of grand ſimplicity rather than by the elegance and richneſs of decoration, which in an after date diſtinguiſhed the gothic ſtyle in England. Over the chapter-houſe were once the library and ſcriptorium, and beyond it are ſtill the remains of cloiſters, of the refectory, the locutorium, or converſation-room, and the calefactory. Theſe, with the walls of ſome chapels, of the veſtry, a hall, and of what is believed to have been a ſchool-houſe, are all the features of this noble edifice that can eaſily be traced: winding ſtair-caſes within the ſurpriſing thickneſs of the walls, and door-caſes involved in darkneſs and myſtery, the place abounds with.

[490] The abbey, which was formerly of ſuch magnitude as nearly to fill up the breadth of the glen, is built of a pale-red ſtone, dug from the neighbouring rocks, now changed by time and weather to a tint of duſky brown, which accords well with the hues of plants and ſhrubs that every where emboſs the mouldering arches.

The fineſt view of the ruin is on the eaſt ſide, where, beyond the vaſt, ſhattered frame that once contained a richly-painted window, is ſeen a perſpective of the choir and of diſtant arches, remains of the nave of the abbey, cloſed by the woods. This perſpective of the ruin is ^* ſaid to be two hundred and eighty-ſeven feet in length; the choir part of it is in width only twenty-eight feet inſide, but the nave is ſeventy: the walls, as they now ſtand, are fifty-four feet high and in thickneſs five. Southward from the choir extend the ſtill beauti⯑ful, though broken, pillars and arcades of ſome chapels, now laid open to the day; the chapter-houſe, the cloiſters, and beyond all, and detached from all, is the ſchool-houſe, a large building, the only part of the monaſtery that ſtill boaſts a roof.

As, ſoothed by the venerable ſhades and the view of a more vene⯑rable ruin, we reſted oppoſite to the eaſtern window of the choir, where once the high altar ſtood, and, with five other altars, aſſiſted the religious pomp of the ſcene; the images and the manners of times, that were paſt, roſe to reflection. The midnight proceſſion of monks, clothed in white and bearing lighted tapers, appeared to the ‘"mind's eye"’ iſſuing to the choir through the very door-caſe, by [491] which ſuch proceſſions were wont to paſs from the cloiſters to per⯑form the matin ſervice, when, at the moment of their entering the church, the deep chanting of voices was heard, and the organ ſwelled a ſolemn peal. To fancy, the ſtrain ſtill echoed feebly along the arcades and died in the breeze among the woods, the ruſtling leaves mingling with the cloſe. It was eaſy to image the abbot and the officiating prieſts ſeated beneath the richly-fretted canopy of the four ſtalls, that ſtill remain entire in the ſouthern wall, and high over which is now perched a ſolitary yew-tree, a black funereal memento to the living of thoſe who once ſat below.

Of a quadrangular court on the weſt ſide of the church, three hun⯑dred and thirty-four feet long and one hundred and two feet wide, little veſtige now appears, except the foundation of a range of cloiſ⯑ters, that formed its weſtern boundary, and under the ſhade of which the monks on days of high ſolemnity paſſed in their cuſtomary pro⯑ceſſion round the court. What was the belfry is now a huge maſs of detached ruin, pictureſque from the loftineſs of its ſhattered arches and the high inequalities of the ground within them, where the tower, that once crowned this building, having fallen, lies in vaſt fragments, now covered with earth and graſs, and no longer diſtin⯑guiſhable but by the hillock they form.

The ſchool-houſe, a heavy ſtructure attached to the boundary wall on the ſouth, is nearly entire, and the walls, particularly of the por⯑tal, are of enormous thickneſs, but, here and there, a chaſm diſcloſes the ſtair-caſes, that wind within them to chambers above. The ſchool⯑room [492] below, ſhews only a ſtone bench, that extends round the walls, and a low ſtone pillar in the eaſtern corner, on which the teacher's pulpit was formerly fixed. The lofty vaulted roof is ſcarcely diſtin⯑guiſhable by the duſky light admitted through one or two narrow windows placed high from the ground, perhaps for the purpoſe of conſining the ſcholar's attention to his book.

Theſe are the principal features, that remain of this once magnifi⯑cent abbey. It was dedicated to St. Mary, and received a colony of monks from the monaſtery of Savigny in Normandy, who were called Gray Monks, from their dreſs of that colour, till they became Ciſtercians, and, with the ſevere rules of St. Bernard, adopted a white habit, which they retained till the diſſolution of monaſtic orders in England. The original rules of St. Bernard partook in ſeveral inſtances of the auſterities of thoſe of La Trapp, and the ſociety did not very readily relinquiſh the milder laws of St. Benedict for the new rigours impoſed upon them by the parent monaſtery of Savigny. They were forbidden to taſte fleſh, except when ill, and even eggs, butter, cheeſe and milk, but on extraordinary occaſions; and denied even the uſe of linen and fur. The monks were divided into two claſſes, to which ſeparate departments belonged. Thoſe, who attended the choir, ſlept upon ſtraw in their uſual habits, from which, at midnight, they roſe and paſſed into the church, where they continued their holy hymns, during the ſhort remainder of the night. After this firſt maſs, having publicly confeſſed themſelves, they retired to their cells, and the day was employed in ſpiritual [493] exerciſes and in copying or illuminating manuſcripts. An un⯑broken ſilence was obſerved, except when, after dinner, they with⯑drew into the locutorium, where for an hour, perhaps, they were permitted the common privilege of ſocial beings. This claſs was conſined to the boundary wall, except that, on ſome particular days, the members of it were allowed to walk in parties beyond it, for exerciſe and amuſement; but they were very ſeldom permit⯑ted either to receive, or pay viſits. Like the monks of La Trapp, however, they were diſtinguiſhed for extenſive charities and liberal hoſpitality; for travellers were ſo ſcrupulouſly entertained at the abbey, that it was not till the diſſolution that an inn was thought neceſſary in this part of Furneſs, when one was opened for their accommodation, expreſsly becauſe the monaſtery could no longer receive them.

To the ſecond claſs were aſſigned the cultivation of the lands and the performance of domeſtic affairs in the monaſtery.

This was the ſecond houſe in England, that received the Bernardine rules, the moſt rigorous of which were, however, diſpenſed with in 1485 by Sixtus the Fourth, when, among other indulgences, the whole order was allowed to taſte meat on three days of the week. With the rules of St. Benedict, the monks had exchanged their gray habit for a white caſſock with a white caul and ſcapulary. But their choir dreſs was either white or gray, with caul and ſcapulary of the ſame, and a girdle of black wool; over that a mozet, or hood, [494] and a rochet^*. When they went abroad they wore a caul and full black hood.

The privileges and immunities, granted to the Ciſtercian order in general, were very abundant; and thoſe to the Abbey of Furneſs were proportioned to its vaſt endowments. The abbot, it has been mentioned, held his ſecular court in the neighbouring caſtle of Dal⯑ton, where he preſided with the power of adminiſtering not only juſtice but injuſtice, ſince the lives and property of the villain tenants of the lordſhip of Furneſs were conſigned by a grant of King Ste⯑phen to the diſpoſal of my lord abbot! The monks alſo could be arraigned, for whatever crime, only by him. ‘"The military eſta⯑bliſhment of Furneſs likewiſe depended on the abbot. Every meſne lord and free homager, as well as the cuſtomary tenants, took an oath of fealty to the abbot, to be true to him againſt all men, excepting the king. Every meſne lord obeyed the ſummons of the abbot, or his ſteward, in raiſing his quota of armed men, and every tenant of a whole tenement furniſhed a man and horſe of war for guarding the coaſt, for the border-ſervice, or any expedition againſt the common enemy of the king and kingdom. The habiliments of war were a ſteel coat, or coat of mail, a falce, or falchion, a jack, the bow, the bill, the croſs-bow and ſpear. The Furneſs legion conſiſted of four diviſions:—one of bowmen horſed and harneſſed; bylmen horſed and harneſſed; bowmen without horſe and harneſs; bylmen with⯑out horſe and harneſs^†."’

[495] The deep foreſts, that once ſurrounded the Abbey, and overſpread all Furneſs, contributed with its inſulated ſituation, on a neck of land running out into the ſea, to ſecure it from the depredations of the Scots, who were continually committing hoſtilities on the borders. On a ſummit over the Abbey are the remains of a beacon, or watch⯑tower, raiſed by the ſociety for their further ſecurity. It commands extenſive views over Low Furneſs and the bay of the ſea imme⯑diately beneath; looking forward to the town and caſtle of Lanca⯑ſter, appearing faintly on the oppoſite coaſt; on the ſouth, to the iſles of Wanley, Foulney, and their numerous iſlets, on one of which ſtands Peel-caſtle; and, on the north, to the mountains of High Furneſs and Coniſton, riſing in grand amphitheatre round this inlet of the Iriſh Channel. Deſcription can ſcarcely ſuggeſt the full mag⯑nificence of ſuch a proſpect, to which the monks, emerging from their concealed cells below, occaſionally reſorted to ſooth the aſpe⯑rities, which the ſevere diſcipline of ſuperſtition inflicted on the temper; or, freed from the obſervance of jealous eyes, to indulge, perhaps, the ſigh of regret, which a conſideration of the world they had renounced, thus gloriouſly given back to their ſight, would ſome⯑times awaken.

From Hawcoat, a few miles to the weſt of Furneſs, the view is ſtill more extenſive, whence, in a clear day, the whole length of the Iſle of Man may be ſeen, with part of Angleſey and the mountains of Caernarvon, Merionethſhire, Denbighſhire and Flintſhire, ſhadow⯑ing the oppoſite horizon of the channel.

[496] The ſum total of all rents belonging to the Abbey immediately before the diſſolution was 946l. 2s. 10d. collected from Lancaſhire, Cum⯑berland, and even from the Iſle of Man; a ſum, which conſidering the value of money at that period; and the woods, meadows, paſ⯑tures, and ſiſheries, retained by the ſociety in their own hands; the quantity of proviſions for domeſtic uſe brought by the tenants in⯑ſtead of rent, and the ſhares of mines, mills, and ſaltworks, which belonged to the Abbey, ſwells its former riches to an enormous amount.

Pyle, the laſt abbot, ſurrendered with twenty-nine monks, to Henry the Eighth, April the 9th 1537, and in return was made Rector of Dalton, a ſituation then valued at thirty-three pounds ſix ſhillings and eight-pence a year.

FROM ULVERSTON TO LANCASTER.

FROM the abbey we returned to Ulverſton, and from thence croſſed the ſands to Lancaſter, a ride ſingularly intereſting and ſublime. From the Carter's houſe, which ſtands on the edge of the Ulverſton ſands, and at the point, whence paſſengers enter them, to Lancaſter, within the furtheſt oppoſite ſhore, is fifteen miles. This noble bay is interrupted by the peninſula of Cartmel, extending a line of white rocky coaſt, that divides the Leven and [497] Ulverſton ſands from thoſe of Lancaſter. The former are four miles over; the latter ſeven.

We took the early part of the tide, and entered theſe vaſt and deſo⯑late plains before the ſea had entirely left them, or the morning miſts were ſufficiently diſſipated to allow a view of diſtant objects; but the grand ſweep of the coaſt could be faintly traced, on the left, and a vaſt waſte of ſand ſtretching far below it, with mingled ſtreaks of gray water, that heightened its dreary aſpect. The tide was ebbing faſt from our wheels, and its low murmur was interrupted, firſt, only by the ſhrill ſmall cry of ſea-gulls, unſeen, whoſe hovering flight could be traced by the ſound, near an iſland that began to dawn through the miſt; and then, by the hoarſer croaking of ſea-geeſe, which took a wider range, for their ſhifting voices were heard from various quarters of the ſurrounding coaſt. The body of the ſea, on the right, was ſtill involved, and the diſtant mountains on our left, that crown the bay, were alſo viewleſs; but it was ſublimely intereſting to watch the heavy vapours beginning to move, then rolling in lengthening volumes over the ſcene, and, as they gradually diſſipated, diſcovering through their veil the various objects they had concealed—fiſhermen with carts and nets ſtealing along the margin of the tide, little boats putting off from the ſhore, and, the view ſtill enlarging as the vapours expanded, the main ſea itſelf ſoftening into the horizon, with here and there a dim ſail moving in the hazy diſtance. The wide deſola⯑tion of the ſands, on the left, was animated only by ſome horſemen [498] riding remotely in groups towards Lancaſter, along the winding edge of the water, and by a muſcle-fiſher in his cart trying to ford the channel we were approaching.

The coaſt round the bay was now diſtinctly, though remotely, ſeen, riſing in woods, white cliffs and cultivated ſlopes towards the moun⯑tains of Furneſs, on whoſe dark brows the vapours hovered. The ſhore falls into frequent receſſes and juts out in promontories, where villages and country ſeats are thickly ſtrewn. Among the latter, Holker-hall, deep among woods, ſtands in the north. The village and hall of Bardſea, once the ſite of a monaſtery, with a rocky back-ground and, in front, meadows falling towards the water; and Coniſhead priory, with its ſpiry woods, the paragon of beauty, lie along the weſtern coaſt, where the hills, ſwelling gently from the iſle of Walney, nearly the laſt point of land viſible on that ſide the bay, and extending to the north, ſweep upwards towards the fells of High Furneſs and the whole aſſemblage of Weſtmoreland mountains, that crown the grand boundary of this arm of the ſea.

We ſet out rather earlier than was neceſſary, for the benefit of the guide over part of theſe trackleſs waſtes, who was going to his ſta⯑tion on a ſand near the firſt ford, where he remains to conduct paſ⯑ſengers acroſs the united ſtreams of the rivers Crake and Leven, till the returning tide waſhes him off. He is punctual to the ſpot as the tides themſelves, where he ſhivers in the dark comfortleſs mid⯑nights of winter, and is ſcorched on the ſhadeleſs ſands, under the [499] noons of ſummer, for a ſtipend of ten pounds a year! and he ſaid that he had fulfilled the office for thirty years. He has, how⯑ever, perquiſites occaſionally from the paſſengers. In early times the Prior of Coniſhead, who eſtabliſhed the guide, paid him with three acres of land and an annuity of fifteen marks; at the diſſolution, Henry the Eighth charged himſelf and his ſucceſſors with the pay⯑ment of the guide by patent.

Near the firſt ford is Chapel Iſle, on the right from Ulverſton, a barren ſand, where are yet ſome remains of a chapel, built by the monks of Furneſs, in which divine ſervice was daily performed at a certain hour, for paſſengers, who croſſed the ſands with the morn⯑ing tide. The ford is not thought dangerous, though the ſands fre⯑quently ſhift, for the guide regularly tries for, and aſcertains, the pro⯑per paſſage. The ſtream is broad and of formidable appearance, ſpreading rapidly among the ſands and, when you enter it, ſeeming to bear you away in its courſe to the ſea. The ſecond ford is be⯑yond the peninſula of Cartmel, on the Lancaſter ſands, and is formed by the accumulated waters of the rivers, Ken and Winſter, where another guide waits to receive the traveller.

The ſhores of the Lancaſter ſands fall back to greater diſtance and are not ſo bold, or the mountains beyond ſo awful, as thoſe of Ulver⯑ſton; but they are various, often beautiful, and Arnſide-fells have a higher character. The town and caſtle of Lancaſter, on an eminence, gleaming afar off over the level ſands and backed by a dark ridge [500] of rocky heights, look well as you approach them. Thither we returned and concluded a tour, which had afforded infinite delight in the grandeur of its landſcapes and a reconciling view of human nature in the ſimplicity, integrity, and friendly diſpoſition of the inhabitants.