A JOURNEY THROUGH HOLLAND, &c. MADE IN THE SUMMER OF 1794.
A JOURNEY MADE IN THE SUMMER OF 1794, THROUGH HOLLAND AND THE WESTERN FRONTIER OF GERMANY, WITH A RETURN DOWN THE RHINE: TO WHICH ARE ADDED OBSERVATIONS DURING A TOUR TO THE LAKES OF LANCASHIRE, WESTMORELAND, AND CUMBERLAND.
BY ANN RADCLIFFE.
LONDON: PRINTED FOR G. G. AND J. ROBINSON, PATERNOSTER-ROW. MDCCXCV.
THE Author begs leave to observe, in explanation of the use made of the plural term in the following pages, that, her journey having been performed in the company of her nearest relative and friend, the account of it has been written so much from their mutual observation, that there would be a deception in permitting the book to appear, without some acknowledgment, which may distinguish it from works entirely her own. The title page would, therefore, have contained the joint names of her husband and herself, if this mode of appearing before the Public, besides being thought by that relative a greater acknowledgement than was due to his share of the work, had not seemed liable to the imputation of a design to attract attention by extraordinary novelty. It is, however, necessary to her own satisfaction, that some notice should be taken of this assistance. She may therefore, be permitted to intrude a few more words, as to this subject, by saying, that where the oeconomical and political conditions of countries are touched upon in the following work, the remarks are less her own than elsewhere.
With respect to the book itself, it is, of course, impossible, and would be degrading if it were not so, to prevent just censure by apologies; and unjust censure she has no reason, from her experience, to fear;—but she will venture to defend a practice adopted in the following pages, that has been sometimes blamed for its apparent nationality, by writers of the most respectable authority. The references to England, which frequently occur during the foreign part of the tour, are made because it has seemed that one of the best modes of describing to any class of readers what they may not know, is by comparing it with what they do.
May 20, 1795.
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
AMSTERDAM,
approach to it, Page 59
The streets and canals, 61
The Stadthouse, 62
The port, 63
City government, 65
Public coaches, 69
Andernach,
valley of 145, 156
Town 160, 322
Andre St. fort of 352
Appenweyer, 269
Arthur's table, 424
Austrian troops, 270, 271
B
Bacharach, 296
Bampton
grange, 396, 405
Vale, 403
Bassenthwaite water, 461
Bergstrasse, 225, 266
Biel, 278
Bingen, 290
Bingerloch, 294
Bommel, 352, 353, 354, 355, 356
Bonn, 116, 133, 324
The palace, 118, 119, 120
Boppart, 309
Borrowdale, 463, 465
Bowther stone, 466
Brougham
castle, Page 426, 431
Hall, 425
C
Carlsruhe,
forest of 261
The palace and gardens, 262
Cassel, 179, 181
Cleves,
approach to it, 86
The city, 87
Coblentz, 163, 316
Flying bridge, 166
Cologne,
appearance of the city, 100, 101, 102, 328
Government, 105
The fort, 107
Convent of Clarisse, 109
Churches, 110, 111, 112, 113
The Elector, 129, 130
Fugitives there, 326
Coniston-fells, 480
D
Dalton, 485
Delft,
its extent, 18
The Doolen, 19
Palace of WILLIAM I. 22
His tomb, 23
Derwentwater, Page 448, 452
Dort, 358
Dover, straights of 369
Dress of the Dutch, 3, 8
Druidical Monument, 445, 447
Duisbourg, 339
Dykes in Holland, 4
E
Ehrenbreitstein, 166, 316
Esthwait water, 478
F
Flaarding, 362
France, conversation relative to, 317, 318, 319
Franckfort,
the liberties and independence of, 225, 226, 227, 228
The surrender and re-capture of the city in 1792, 229, 230, 231
Cabinet Literaire, 233
Theatre, 233
Franckenthal, 244
French prisoners, 135
Friburg, 274, 277
Furness Abbey, 487, 496
G
Gardens in Holland, 18
German territories, intermixture of, 311, 312
Germany, condition of, 342, 343
Goodesberg, 134
Goodesberg, the castle and hill of, Page 138, 139, 140, 141
Gorcum, 358
Government of the United Provinces, 29, 34
Grasmere, 470
Graystock, neighbourhood of, 439
H
Haarlem,
voyage thither from Leyden, 53
The great church, 55
The city, 54, 56
Haerlemer Maer, 57, 58
Hardwick, 371, 372, 373, 374, 375
The Hague,
palace there, 28
Apartments of the States General, 29
Grand Voorhout, 38
Maison du Bois, 44
Half Wegen Sluice, 58
Hawkshead, 479
Hawswater, 395, 399, 404
Helvoetsluys, 1
Hockheim, 180
Hoogstrass, 95
Hornby, 381
I
Ingleborough, 383
Johannesberg, 288
K
Kaub, 299
Kendal, 386, 389
Kirby Lonsdale, 384
Koningstuhl, Page 311
Kostheim, 179
L
Lancaster
castle, views from, 378, 379, 380
Sands, 497
Landscapes, those of England and Germany compared, 370
Leck, river, 78
Leyden,
the Fair, 50
the University, 51, 52
Limbourg, 172, 173
Long Sleddale, 391
Lonsdale vale, 382
Louvenstein, 357
M
Manchester, neighbourhood of, 377
Manheim,
appearance of the City, 248
The Palace, 250, 251
The surrounding country, 252
Electoral Establishments, 254, 255
Mentz,
approach to it, 179
Ruins made by the siege, 182, 183
La Favorita, 184
Forts, 185
The Siege, 188, 216
The City, 217, 218, 219, 220, 221
The Noble Chapter, 221
Middleton, 376
Dale, 377
Military Press in Germany, 245
Montabaur, 171
Muhleim, 329
N
Neuss, Page 96, 99
Neuwiedt, 162, 321
Nieuport, anecdote of the siege of, 365
Nimeguen, 82, 85
Bridge of boats, 81
The Belvidere, 351
O
Oberwesel, 300, 303, 304
Offenburg, 272
Oggersheim 246
Oppenheim, 236
Oudenkirk, 70
P
Parties in Holland, 40, 43
Patterdale, 415, 423
Penrith,
town of, 432, 434, 437
beacon of, 434
Pfaltz, 298
Poppelsdorff, the palace of, 119
Post, German, 280, 281, 282, 283
Prince of Orange, 35, 42
Provisions in Holland, 68
R
Rastadt, 265
Rees, 344
Rheinberg, 92, 94
Rheingau, 287
Rhinfels 306
Rotterdam,
road and voyage to it from Helvoetsluys, 6
Its appearance from the Maese, 8
Rotterdam, the city, Page 9, 16, 359
Rydal Hall, 471
S
Saardam, 63
Saddleback, 439, 440, 441
Sanctae Crucis, the convent and hill, 123, 124, 125, 126, 127, 128,
Schevening and the vista, 46
Schwetzingen, 258, 259
Selters, 174, 176
Seven Mountains, 119, 127, 136, 143, 323
St. Goar, 305, 307
Shapfell, 393
St. John, vale of 441
Skiddaw, 442
Ascent of 453, 461
Sunset and rise at sea, 366, 367
T
Taxes in Holland 66
Thiel, 351
Threlkeld, 442
Thurston Lake, 480, 481
Timber, floats of, on the Rhine, 333, 334, 335, 336
Trechtschuyts, 17
U
Ullswater,
road thither, Page 406
Lake, 408, 418
Ulverston, 484
Urdingen, 337
Utrecht, 73
Canal from Amsterdam thither, 71, 72
View from the tower of the cathedral, 74, 75
V
Vineyards in Germany, 116, 150, 289, 301
W
Waal, river, 79, 352
Wesel, 340
Wetzlaar, chamber of 312, 313, 314
Windermere, 472, 478
Worms, 239
Wyk de Duerstede, 78
X
Xanten, 88, 91, 341
Z
Zons, castle of 330
A JOURNEY, &c.
HELVOETSLUYS.
ABOUT twenty hours after our embarkation, at Harwich, 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.
The names of Dutch towns are in themselves expressive of the objects 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, perhaps, 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 Helvoetsluys; and, as ours entered the harbour about noon, and in fine weather, perhaps, a fourth part of the inhabitants were collected as spectators. 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 divingbell; yellow slippers, without quarters at the heel; and caps, that exactly fitted the head and concealed the hair, but which were ornamented at the temples by gold filiagree clasps, twirling, like vine tendrils, over the cheeks of the wearer.
Our inn was kept by English people, but the furniture was entirely 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 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 hundred 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 communication 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 embankments, 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 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 measure 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 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 survey 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 mismanagement, 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 carriages 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 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 description 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 horizon, 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 perfect 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 wellconditioned 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 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 American, 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 captain. 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 where several English vessels were visible in the chief street of the place. After a sail of two hours we distinguished Rotterdam, surrounded by more wood than had yet appeared, and overtopped by the heavy round tower of the great church of St. Lawrence. The flatness 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 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 rendered conspicuous; and a street acquires the air of a town in a toyshop; 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 apparent difficulty; all this did somewhat surprise us, who had supposed that a city so familiarly known, and yet so little mentioned as Rotterdam, could have nothing so remarkable as its wealth and trade.
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 warehouses 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 attended on our return. It is an oblong brick building, permitted by the States to be within the jurisdiction of the Bishop of London, Parliament 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 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 purpose, and completed about fifty years ago. The happiest circumstance 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 without 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 represented 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 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 attended 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 commerce, and began nearly all the measures, which have led to their present 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.
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 distinguished 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 entirely 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, expecting to have found something in Latin, or French, but could see only Dutch books. In another street a bookseller had several English 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 Rotterdam, 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 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 immense; for, throughout the provinces, every village, if it is near a canal, 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, almost 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 waggons and carts, even where some sort of land carriage must be employed. 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.
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 conveniences and delights, and from its structure some magnificence, together 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 description. 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 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 occupied 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 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 perform their military exercises: they were so employed when we came in; and it was pleasing to consider, that their inferiority to their ancestors, in point of martial appearance, was the result of the long internal 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 Protestant 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 produced. One of these arches communicates with the rooms so long used by the burghers; and our hostess, an intelligent woman, accompanied us through them. The first is ornamented with three large pictures, representing several of the early burghers of the Commonwealth, either in arms or council. A portrait of BARNEVELDT is marked with the date and the painter's name,
"MICHAEL MIEREVELD
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 cupboards, 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 association 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 pavilion, 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 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 esteemed 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 ludicrously 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 celebrated for military events, being unfortified, and having probably always obeyed the fortune of the neighbouring places. The circumstance 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 wretchedness 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 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 consideration 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 sepulchral 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, twentytwo 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 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 second 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 libertas.
—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 Auransionensium Principis, Patr. patriae, qui Belgii fortunis suas posthabuit et suorum; validissimos exercitus aere plurimum privato bis conscripsit, 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, prudentis, invicti, quem Philip. II. Hisp. R. Europae timor, timuit; non domuit, 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 family; who, chiefly at his own expence, twice levied and introduced a powerful army; under the sanction of the States repelled the tyranny of Spain; recovered and restored the service of true religion 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 terrified; 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 townhouse, 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 immediately 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 inscription, in Latin almost as bad as that of a verse epitaph upon GROTIUS in the other church. He was born, it appears, in October 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 almsman, 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
trechtschuyt
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 canal 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 mentioned 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 related to have contended so long, concerning their rights of precedence, that the only mode of reconciling them was to make separate entrances, 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. The
Court
itself, a large brick building, irregular, but light and pleasant, 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 frontier than the interior of the country, counteracted a plan of fortification, 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 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 generally 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 historical 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 General, but the Provincial States, of whose Deputies the former body is 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 ambassadors, declares war, makes peace, and names the Greffier, or Secretary of State, and all Staff Officers.
The Provincial States are variously composed, and the interior governments 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 province, 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 appears to be to that body, in a great measure, what the Council of 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 returns 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 affairs, 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 Council 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.
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 sovereignty, which the Nobility enjoy when they send Deputies to the Provincial 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 affairs, almost entirely under his direction; he names all subaltern officers, 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 centuries, has protected as great a share of civil and religious liberty as has been enjoyed in any other part of Europe, resisting equally the chances of dissolution, contained within itself; and the less dangerous schemes for its destruction, dictated by the jealousy of arbitrary interests without.
Its intricacy and delicacy are easily seen; yet, of the objections made to it on this account, more are founded on some maxims, assumed to be universal, than upon the separate considerations due to the condition of a separate people. How much the means of political happiness depend, for their effect, upon the civil characters of those for whom they are designed, has been very little seen, or insisted upon. It has been unnoticed, because such enquiries have not the brilliancy, or the facility, of general speculations, nor can command 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 warriors; 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 national 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 moral and intellectual character of a people, the degree of political happiness, of which they are capable; a process, without which projected advances become obstructions; and the philosopher begins his experiment, 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 determined 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 finding also some reason to believe, that the intellectual and moral condition 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
June 1794.
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 represented 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 industry and plain manners of the people prevent them from looking to political conduct of any sort as a means of improving their fortunes; that, for these reasons, the intricate connections between the 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 joining 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 Hereditary 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 replied, 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 consequence 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 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 province 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 Germany, affords employment to four or five persons, at an Office, separate from his ordinary Treasury; and he had estates in the Low Countries. All this is but the wreck of a fortune, honourably diminished by William the First of Orange, in the contest with Spain; the remembrance of whom may, perhaps, involuntarily influence one's opinion of his successors.
During May, the western gate of the palace is ornamented, according 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 notions of pageantry.
Among the offices included within the walls of the court is a printing-house, in which the STATES GENERAL and the States 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 communicated 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 description. 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 illness 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 vellum 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 private 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. Between 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 preserved, 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 FOURTEENTH, 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.
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, upon his return from the government of Brazil, by KAMPFEN, Lord of Rambroek, architect of the Stadthouse at Amsterdam. The interior 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 several 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 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. Children 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 magistrates 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 insults. 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.
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 English 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 connection 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. Several 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 whatever unpopularity the measures of the English Ministers, or the industry 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 by the losses of their merchants, at the commencement of hostilities between 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 Lincolnshire to intercept their trading ships, the fortunes of many of the most opulent houses in Holland were severely shook, and all their members 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 evident 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. 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 cabinet. He comes, accompanied by one or two officers, and his presence produces no crowd. When we had viewed the parade and returned 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 Stadtholder, 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 persons 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 Holland, during the prevalence of their authority, did not pretend, according 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 Republic.
One of the best excursions from the Hague is made to the
Maison
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, Haerlem and Amsterdam, which pass through its noble alleys of oak and beech. It is remarkable for having so much attracted the regard of Philip the Second, that, in the campaign of 1574, he ordered 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, during an unprovoked invasion, which cost ten thousand lives.
The apartments of the
Maison du Bois
are very variously furnished. 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 admiration, 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 divides that part, in which the bed stands, from the remainder. The Princess's drawing-room, in which card parties are sometimes held, is well embellished with paintings, and may be called a superb apartment; but here again there is an instance of the incompleteness, 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 attributed 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 admirable portrait of her husband. On the six doors of the grand cabinet are six whole lengths of ladies of the House of Orange, exhibited in allegorical characters. The doors being covered by the paintings, when that, by which you have entered, is shut, you cannot tell the way back again. A portrait of LOUISA DE COLIGNY, 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, containing 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 fishermen 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 fishermen. 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 enjoying 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.
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, between which year and the latter end of the preceding century, it sustained six inundations. The first, in 1470, demolished a church; the last washed away an hundred and twenty houses; notwithstanding 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 active 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 admiration of Dutch industry, it is of a nature which would scarcely acquire that name in England. A Dutchman of the labouring class is, indeed, seldom seen unemployed; but we never observed one man working hard, according to the English notion of the term. Perseverance, carefulness, and steadiness are theirs, beyond any rivalship; the vehemence, force, activity and impatience of an English sailor, or workman, are unknown to them. You will never see a Dutchman enduring the fatigue, or enjoying the rest, of a London porter. Heavy burthens, indeed, they do not carry. At Amsterdam, where carriages 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 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 trechtschuyt 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 incivility 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 towards 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 porcelain 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 foundations; 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 wisdom of the magistrates.
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 Company, 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 extraordinary 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 Highstreet, 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 hardships and perseverance of the inhabitants, during the celebrated blockade of five months, in 1574, in consideration of which the University was founded.
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 pleasantest of the great number, which connect all the towns of the province with each other, and render them to the traveller a series of spectacles, almost as easily visited as the amusements of one large metropolis. 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 neighbouring sea, even in the profoundest calm. During the voyage, which was of four hours, we passed under several bridges, and saw numbers 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 immediately 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 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 behind, without any ceremony, if they exceed the limited time, which the boatman employs in exchanging letters for such of the neighbouring 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 underneath 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 inhabitants, 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 precaution against internal commotion, which we had seen in the country. 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.
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 sometimes passes through rows of palaces, without meeting a carriage, or a servant. The inhabitants of those palaces have, however, not less 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 preceding 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 Holland: we expected, perhaps, with some vanity, to have found an opportunity for contradicting it; but are able only to add another testimony 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 obstruct 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 covered with gardens especially on the banks of the
Sparen,
of which one branch flows through the town and the other passes under the walls. 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 pleasant, 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 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 themselves 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 consists 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. Extending 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 dangerous. 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 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 inundations 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 Amsterdam, 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 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 observed 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 inconvenience. 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 protect 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.
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 windows opened upon two, but the scent very soon made us willing to relinquish the prospect. The bottoms are so muddy, that a boathook, 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 midday, 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 afterwards; 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, attracting 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, except 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 Stadthouse, 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 conveniences and elegance.
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 convenience, 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 contain 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 neighbourhood 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, 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 harbour. The great church of Haerlem is also seen at a small distance, on the right.
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 Company 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 Senate, which has this power, consists of thirty-six members, who retain 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 vacancies 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 Provincial States, and, through them, the States General, were themselves 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 estimating the real taxation of a people, it is, however, necessary to consider 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, therefore, 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 hogshead 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, because many of these offices are actually purchased, the holders being compelled to buy stock to a certain amount, and to destroy the obligations. 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 companies of city-guards, which are under the orders of their own magistrates. 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 certain dish could be placed upon a table at a tavern.
The exact sums, paid by the several provinces towards every hundred 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 Provinces, 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 seamen 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.
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 Bourdeaux. The general price for this is twenty pence English a bottle; three and four pence is the price for a much better sort. About halfa-crown per day is charged for each apartment; and
logement
is always 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 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 foundations 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.
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 manners and obliging dispositions are remembered with much more delight 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 distance from the province of Holland and from the sea increases. Towards 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 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 fortification; 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 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 unobjectionable, 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.
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, narrow, 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 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 increases 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 giddiness 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 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 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 extensive 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 generally 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 appearance 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 province 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 remainder 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 carriage 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.
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, opposite 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, covered 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. Between 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 copied in Flemish landscapes of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.
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 evening 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 beautiful. 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 Brentford postillion, entered that adjoining the first half of the bridge, 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 containing 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 innkeepers, 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 marketplace. 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 fortifications, 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 the Belvidere, which, from its eastern and southern windows, commands a long view into Germany, and to the north looks over Guelderland. From this place all the fortifications, which are very extensive, 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 Nimeguen, 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 collected, 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.
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 Nottingham, 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, terminating in peaked roofs; but some decline of neatness may be observed by those who arrive here from the province of Holland. The market-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 inhabitants. 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 fortifications, concerning which there can, of course, be no secrecy. It then enters an extensive plain, and runs almost parallel to a range of heights, at the extremity of which Nimeguen stands, and presents an appearance of still greater strength and importance than when seen from the westward.
After a few miles, this road leaves the territories of the United Provinces, and enters the Prussian duchy of Cleves, at a spot where a mill is in one country, and the miller's house in the other. An instance of difference between the conditions of the people in the two countries was observable even at this passage of their boundary. Our postillion bought, at the miller's, a loaf of black bread, such as is not made in the Dutch provinces, and carried it away for the food of his horses, which were thus initiated into some of the blessings of the German peasantry. After another quarter of a mile you have more proofs that you have entered the country of the King of Prussia. From almost every cluster of huts barefooted children run out to beg, and ten or a dozen stand at every gate, nearly throwing themselves under the wheels to catch your money, which, every now and then, the bigger seize from the less.
Yet the land is not ill-cultivated. The distinction between the culture of land in free and arbitrary countries, was, indeed, never very apparent to us, who should have been ready enough to perceive it. The great landholders know what should be done, and the peasantry are directed to do it. The latter are, perhaps, supplied with stock, and the grounds produce as much as elsewhere, though you may read, in the looks and manners of the people, that very little of its productions is for them.
Approaching nearer to Cleves, we travelled on a ridge of heights, and were once more cheared with the
"pomp of groves."
Between the branches were delightful catches of extensive landscapes, varied with hills clothed to their summits with wood, where frequently the distant spires of a town peeped out most picturesquely. The open vales between were chiefly spread with corn; and such a prospect of undulating ground, and of hills tufted with the grandeur of forests, was inexpressibly chearing to eyes fatigued by the long view of level countries.
At a few miles from Cleves the road enters the Park and a close avenue of noble plane-trees, when these prospects are, for a while, excluded. The first opening is where, on one hand, a second avenue commences, and, on the other, a sort of broad bay in the woods, which were planted by Prince Maurice, includes an handsome house, now converted into an inn, which, owing to the pleasantness of the situation, and its vicinity to a mineral spring, is much frequented in summer. A statue of General Martin Schenck, of dark bronze, in complete armour, and with the beaver down, is raised upon a lofty Ionic column, in the centre of the avenue, before the house. Resting upon a lance, the figure seems to look down upon the passenger, and to watch over the scene, with the sternness of an ancient knight. It appears to be formed with remarkable skill, and has an air more striking and grand than can be readily described.
The
orangerie
of the palace is still preserved, together with a semicircular pavilion, in a recess of the woods, through which an avenue of two miles leads you to
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.
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 emerged 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 inhabitants 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 circumstances which persuaded to such tranquil rapture as Collins must have felt when he had the happiness to address to Evening—
For when thy folding star, arising, shews
His paly circlet, at his warning lamp,
The fragrant hours and elves
Who slept in buds the day:
And many a nymph, who wreaths her brows with sedge,
And sheds the fresh'ning dew, and, lovelier still,
The pensive pleasures sweet
Prepare thy shadowy car.
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 marketplace, 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. 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 prebendaries 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 Rheinberg, distant about nine miles; a place often mentioned in the military 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 expected in a remote village, in a cross road in England. The landlord 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, 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 seventeenth centuries, was thought important enough to be five times attacked by large armies. FARNESE, the Spanish commander, was diverted 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 attempted 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 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 valuable 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 attended. The landlord, a young man who had served in the army of the country, and appeared by his dress to have gained some promotion, 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 slender 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, 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 excite, at first, more fear than pity. Continuing to look for the better 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 closeness 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 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.
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 convenient for an intercourse with the eastern shore of the Rhine, especially 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 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 mountains, that run through several countries of interior Germany. Over the wild and gigantic features of the Seven Mountains dark thunder mists soon spread an awful obscurity, and heightened the expectation, 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 carriages, 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 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 baggage; 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 surprise, 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.
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 narrow 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 accommodation within, and, as we had read of many squares, or marketplaces, 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 by its situation capable of becoming a sort of
emporium
for the three countries. The spot, into which our inn opened, though a parallelogram of considerable extent, bordered by lime trees, we passed quickly 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
Dr. Samuel Johnson.
."
And it is not only because they take away something from the dignity of writing, that such observations are withheld. To be thought capable of commanding more pleasures and preventing more inconveniences than others is a too general passport to respect; and, in the ordinary affairs of life, for one, that will shew somewhat less prosperity than he has, in order to try who will really respect him, thousands exert themselves to assume an appearance of more, which they might know can procure only the mockery of esteem for themselves, 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 business, 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 circumstances of residence, dress, food, cleanliness, opportunities of relaxation; 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 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 affectation 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 different 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 personal 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 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 Germany, called free and independent, in which the neighbouring sovereigns have scarcely less authority, though with something more of circumstance, than in their own dominions.
The constitution of Cologne permits, indeed, some direct interference 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 merchants of the place; and the officers of several of his territorial jurisdictions 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 Herzogs 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 the city, and these enable them to pay their contributions to the Germanic 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 considerable part of the interruptions, which all the States upon the Rhine give to the commerce of that river. Here also commodities, intended 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 seaports 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 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 amusement, 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 licentiousness, 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 horrible perversions of human reason make the blood thrill and the teeth chatter. Their fathers they can never speak to, for no man is suffered 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 existence 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, 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 followed, 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 inscription 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, according to the measurement mentioned in a printed description. We did not learn at what period the design of completing the edifice was 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 Canterbury. 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.
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 numerous, 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 apartment, 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 supposed 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 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 descendants could not be received into similar chapters; an important circumstance 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, however, 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 soldiers, several of whom were walking in the court yard before it, halfcloathed 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 spectators, who looked as if they were astonished to see, that war is compounded 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 uniform 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 chapel 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 something more.
The government of Cologne in ecclesiastical affairs is with the Elector, as archbishop, and the Chapter as his council. In civil matters, 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, without 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 inscription,
"
Musis Gratiisque decentibus.
"
The Town-house is an awkward 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 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 magnificent architecture and furniture, which ought to have attracted our curiosity.
On a green and circular hill, near the Rhine, stands the Benedictine 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 dirt of Cologne, though mean houses are abundantly intermixed with the others, and the best are far from admirable. The
physiognomy 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 immediately 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 consists 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, we should have been but little assisted in giving an idea of the spectacle, 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 strikingly 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 summits, 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 communicates with both buildings, and above are the hill and the convent
Sanctae Crucis,
the latter looking out from among sirs and shrubby 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 civilities 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 presently 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 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 consequence 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 of the Upper Rhine, her residence had been established in the dominions 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 ingenuity 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 Archduchess, 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 drawings from the antique by the Archduchess, disposed upon a light ground and serving instead of tapestry.
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 likenesses 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 around. The turf was uncommonly fragrant and fine, abounding with plants, which made us regret the want of a Botanist's knowledge 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 request, 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, and that plainness free from any thing, that the most tractable imagination 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 cheerfulness and intelligence, that would have become the happiest inhabitant 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 magnificent 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 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 eradicating 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, 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 beautiful recesses of nature, are only those of destroying the innocent animals that inhabit her shades. Strange! that her lovely scenes cannot 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 London, 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 differences 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 careless 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.
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 commander, 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 poplars at the expence of the Elector, who has a taste for works of public advantage and ornament. His Grand-mastership of the Teutonic Order renders his Court more frequented than those of the other ecclesiastical 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 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 fellow-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 conversing 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, employment 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 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 University 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 representatives 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.
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 fortifications of Bonn are of this sort; and, though they were doubtless better, when the Duke of Marlborough arrived before them, it is wonderful 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 destroyed. The third siege was commanded by the Duke of Marlborough, 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 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 hundred 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 establishments 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 situation 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 immediate attention of the governor, it might be considered as a happy region in the midst of ignorance, injustice and misery, and remembered 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 forward into promontories, with inequalities, which gave exquisite richness to the forest, that mantled from their bases to their utmost summits. Many a lurking village, with its slender grey steeple, peeped from among the woody skirts of these hills. On our left, the tremendous 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 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 pyramidal, 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 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 features, 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 uninclosed corn and nearly surrounded by a vast amphitheatre of mountains. 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 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 gentleman. 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 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 general 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 delicately roseate as Claude only could have painted. Viewed, as we then saw it, beyond a deep and dark arch of the ruin, its effect was enchanting; 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:
"Now let me rove some wild and heathy scene,
Or find some ruin 'midst its dreary dells,
Whose walls more awful nod
By thy religious gleams."
ODE TO EVENING.
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 painting. The same Ernest, in the cause of whose sovereignty the massacre 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 impregnable, except by famine, but was very liable to that from its insulated situation, and the ease, with which the whole base of the 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 enemies. 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 fortunes from theirs. They laboured incessantly in forming a subterraneous 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 windows, and the door-ways, that admitted its festive trains. The vast strength of the citadel has been unsubdued by war, or time. Though 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 malignity, 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 disposition, that nothing but the remembrance of the oppression, that produces 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 hautboys, gave a kind of enchantment to the scenery, which we continued 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.
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 contribute so much to the distinction of Goodesberg, are called Drakenfels, 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 Drakenfels, Wolkenbourg and Lowenbourg, which, with all assistance, cannot be ascended now, without the utmost fatigue, were inaccessible, 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 beautiful; and, their parents being dead, the care of her had descended to them. Roland, a young knight, whose castle was on the opposite 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 between 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 number 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 convent and take the veil; a design, which her brothers assisted, with the view of placing her effectually beyond the reach of her lover. 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 performance 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, emulating the fidelity of her retirement, built, at the extreme point of his domains towards the Rhine, a small castle, that overlooked 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 cornlands 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 terminates, and the narrower valley begins.
This mountain towers, the majestic sentinel of the river over which it aspires, in vast masses of rock, varied with rich tuftings of dwarfwood, 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 intermingled cliffs and woods gratify the warmest wish of fancy.
The road led us along the western bank of the Rhine among vineyards, and corn, and thick trees, that allowed only transient catches of the water between their branches; but the gigantic form of Drakenfels was always seen, its superior features, perhaps, appearing more wild, from the partial concealment of its base, and assuming new attitudes as we passed away from it. Lowenberg, whose upper region only had been seen from Goodesberg, soon unfolded itself from behind 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 handsome 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:
Was not Roland, the knight, a strange silly wight,
For the love of a nun, to live on this height?
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 been raised to the purple in 161. The Elector Palatine having repaired 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 conclusion 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 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 elevation 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 dwarf-wood, round a narrow, but cultivated level stripe: then, winding the furthest angle of this crescent, under huge cliffs, we saw the river beyond, shut in by the folding bases of more distant promontories, assume the form of a lake, amidst wild and romantic landscapes. Having doubled one of these capes, the prospect opened in long perspective, and the green waters of the Rhine appeared in all their majesty, flowing rapidly between ranges of marbled rocks, and a succession of woody steeps, and overlooked by a multitude of spiry summits, 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 earthquake, 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 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 excessive labour has been necessary only towards the summits, for, lower down, the soil is sufficiently deep to support the most luxuriant vegetation.
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 wellconditioned 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 picturesque 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 frequently paid in kind, amounting to a settled proportion of the produce; 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 applicable; 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 employ 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. 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 difficult 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 changeful. 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 considered 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 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 desolation 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 cottage, 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 spreading 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 vineyards. 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 mountains, point above point, in long perspective; such sylvan pomp we 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, variegated 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 contrast 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 distinguishable; and, in the widening perspective of the Rhine, an old castle itself, now and then, appeared on the summit of a mountain somewhat 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 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 opposite 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 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 overlooking 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 mountain, and the ruins of its castle above, appeared athwart the perspective of the river, terminating the pass; for there the rocky boundary 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 perpetually changing, with the winding bank. Now it appeared seated on a low peninsula, that nearly crossed the Rhine, overhung by romantic rocks; but this vision vanished as we advanced, and we perceived 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 considerable 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 retrospective 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 receiving it. When your carriage stops at the inn, you will perhaps perceive, 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 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 surprise.
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 afterwards 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 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 payments, 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 probably 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 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 business 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 approach 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 consider you his dependent, by wanting something which he can refuse. After perceiving, that this is nearly general, the pain of making continual 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 opportunities 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 1735, a peace between the Empire and France, when the continuance of the war had seemed to be inevitable. The same benevolence led him to a voluntary surrender of many oppressive privileges over his subjects, as well as to the most careful protection of commerce 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 severity 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 Ehrenbreitstein, or rather which is itself formed into that fortress. The Moselle is here a noble river, by which the streams of a thousand hills, covered with vines, pour themselves into the Rhine. The antient stone bridge over it leads to the northern gate of Coblentz, and the entrance into the city is ornamented by several large chateau-like mansions, 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, towards the walls, immediately within which there are others, that nearly follow their course and encompass the city. Being built between 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 chapters 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 narrow, 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 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 magnificent. 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, displaying 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 subjects as beings of the same species with himself; CLEMENS WINCESLAUS 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 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 mentioned; this is upon the same principle, but on a much larger scale. 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 continually 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 dampness, 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 situated 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, 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 interesting 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 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 encouraged 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 squadrons 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 anecdotes 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, 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. Sometimes 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, disgustful 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 characterise 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 magistrates 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 ministers, 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 connected with the order of politics.
Near Limbourg, the forest scenery, which had shut up the view, during the day, disappeared, and the country lost, at least, an uniformity of savageness. The hills continue, but they are partly cultivated. 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 residence of a Prince of the House of Nassau, they required 300,000 florins, 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 purpose 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 medicinal 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 expectations 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 miserable 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 probably always deeply covered with mud, being so when we were there in the beginning of July. There was then, however, not one 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 immediately 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 payment 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 collected before the water is bottled for removal; it is, therefore, not 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 transmit it into foreign countries. The business is sufficient to employ several clerks, and the number of bottles annually filled is so immense, 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 Elector for the district, who, having heard, that there were some English 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 ingenious voiturier. We did not pass a town, or village, at which it was possible to change the carriage, and had, therefore, no other alternative, 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."
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 surrounded 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 perfect 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 communicating with it by a bridge of boats. It was unfortified before 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 celebrated 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 Hockheim 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 all sides by gradual hills, distant and apparently fruitful; but those to the north are pre-eminent, with gentle slopes at their feet, coloured 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 accompanied us thence to a large square filled with cannon and mortars, 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 the figures of half-dressed soldiers. Many of the cannon in the square remained with the fractures, made by the balls of the besiegers. 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 Franciscan 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 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 separated 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 suffer any material injury. Wooden galleries have been raised round the remainder of the steeple, not for the purpose of repairing, but for 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 supposed 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 verdure over the amputated trunks. This was the site of a palace of the Elector, called, both from the beauty of its situation, and the splendour 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 gardens 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.
From this spot we were shewn the positions of the allied forces, the course of their approaches and the chief outworks of the city. Hockheim, 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 number, 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 fortifications, capable of containing numerous garrisons, and communicating 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 frequently 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 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 immediate horrors of them cannot enter the cities, or the cottages of an island.
Great part of our time at Mentz was occupied by enquiries concerning 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. 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.
OF MENTZ IN 1792 AND 1793.
THE entrance of a French army into Worms, in the beginning of October 1792, had excited a considerable alarm in Mentz, before the inhabitants of the latter city received the accounts, which were not long wanting, of express and avowed preparations for a march towards them. Great numbers of French emigrants had been drawn to the city by the meeting of the Emperor and the King of Prussia there, a few months before; many had arrived since the dissolution of their army in Champagne; and, during the approach of the Republican troops to Spires and Worms, families were continually passing through the city, joining those, who began to take their flight from it. The narrow streets were filled with carriages, and the distressful haste of the travellers served to depress the spirits of the inhabitants, who saw how little their city was thought capable of defence. On the 15th of October, Baron d'Albini, a counsellor of the Court, called the Burgesses together, and admonished them to make preparations for their security; he also enquired, whether they thought it prudent, that the Elector should remain in the city with them? and, it being readily answered, that they did not, the Elector set out for Wurtzburg, a town about 100 miles distant, and was followed by the members of the government. At the same time, a considerable emigration of the other inhabitants took place.
The approach of the French had been so little foreseen, till within the few last weeks, that the garrison did not amount to a tenth part of the war complement. The inhabitants, however, having happily had little experience of sieges, did not know what this complement should be, and, after the first alarm, began to think the deficiency might be easily remedied. The Electoral troops, having sent some useless detachments to Spires, amounted to only 968 men, to whom an hundred were added, obtained from Nassau, Oranien, Weilburg, Bieberich and Fuld by the Elector's demands of assistance from his neighbours. Two hundred and seven Austrian hussars of Esterhazy had also arrived, on the 13th, and all the inhabitants of the Rheingau, a populous district, bordering upon the Rhine, were summoned to the assistance of the capital. The antient society of Archers of the city laid down their bows for musquets; the Academicians formed themselves into a corps, and were placed, together with the Archers, at several outposts. The traders, though exempt from personal service, and unwilling to surrender that privilege, resolved to pay double watch-money for substitutes. It began to be thought, that the threatened progress of the French had been untruly reported; that the siege could not be commenced at that late season of the year; and lastly, that some promised reinforcements of Austrian troops could not be far off.
But, on the 19th of October, the French, in four columns, began to surround the place. They wore, at first, white cockades, expecting to be mistaken for the army of M. de Condé; they were, however, known, and fired upon. Though some days had been passed in preparation, it was now found, that there was little readiness for defence. The best artillerymen had been lost at Spires; there were, at first, no horses to draw the cannon, so that oxen were used for that purpose; the nearest balls to the batteries of twenty-four pound cannon were cast for twelve-pounders; and many of the musquet cartridges could not be fired. In a few hours, however, several of the artisans applied themselves to the making of cartridges; horses were supplied by the servants of the Court and the Nobility, and all hands were, in some way or other, employed. It was then reported, that a corps of Austrian troops was in the neighbourhood, and, on the 19th, 1800 men entered the city. These were recruits without ammunition, and, for the most part, without arms, being on their march to join the army of the Emperor. They were then under the command of two, or three subalterns; but some other Imperial officers came in from the neighbourhood, and arms were obtained from the Elector's arsenal. After this reinforcement there were probably about four thousand men in arms in the city.
With this force, it is allowed, that a much longer defence than was made might have been expected; and, unless there was some failure of the commander's attention, the treachery of an engineer, to whom the surrender is imputed, could certainly not have been so effectual. EIKENMAYER, this engineer, had, it seems, made known to the French the commander's preparations for defence; intelligence, which, if the preparations had been greater, could have been but little serviceable to the assailants. His chief assistance was afforded to them by much more conspicuous means; for, as the inhabitants went frequently to a building called St. Stephen's Tower, to observe the progress of the besiegers, he assured them, that the army, which really amounted only to eleven thousand men, consisted of forty thousand; that they had with them two-and-twenty waggons, laden with scaling ladders, and that the city would presently be taken by storm. The same representations of the besiegers' force were also made by him to the Council of War; and these, it is said, determined them to the surrender, before the French had raised a battery against the works.
Many of the citizens, however, were surprised and enraged at this resolution; and the captain of the Austrian reinforcements expressed his displeasure, at the Council House, where he declared, that he would continue to defend the place, even without permission. In the mean time, the capitulation was signed, and he was induced to submit to it by the solicitations even of the citizens, by whom it was blamed, and by their representations, that, in the present agitated temper of the inhabitants, all attempts at defence must be useless.
Baron d'ALBINI carried news of the surrender to the Elector, at Wurtzburg, and, about five o'clock, on the 21st of October, two French officers came to the Council House, followed by two companies of grenadiers. On the 22d, eight thousand French entered the city, the other three thousand having marched, the preceding day, to Franckfort; the inhabitants, astonished to find themselves taken by so small a force, now saw, to their still greater surprise, that their conquerors had scarcely any heavy cannon. This day was passed in assigning quarters to the troops, and, on the next, Custine, the commander of the French, called the members of the City Council together, to whom, in a short speech, he promised the protection of persons and properties, inviting them, at the same time, to promote the fraternization of the inhabitants with the French nation. Professor BOHMER, who had accepted the office of his Secretary, translated this address into German, and it was circulated through the city.
It is remarkable, that the French had no sooner taken possession of this sudden prize, than they began to foresee the probability of being reduced to defensive measures and to prepare for them. They immediately collected contributions of forage and corn from the neighbouring villages; the streets were rendered almost impassable by the loads brought in; and, as the magazines were soon filled, great quantities were wasted by being exposed to the rain in gardens, and trodden under the feet of horses in the streets. The garrison was soon increased to 20,000 men, of whom sometimes three hundred sometimes five hundred were lodged in each convent. The French soldiery having committed some excesses, Custine reproved their licentiousness, and began to habituate them to discipline by ordering a retirement to their quarters, at certain hours, by beat of drum.
The inhabitants soon began to suspect the contrivance and the persons, that had produced the surrender; for Eikenmayer lived in intimacy with Custine; Professor Metternich, of the Academy of Mentz, mounted the French cockade; and the Elector's physician, having left the city, upon a promise of assisting some peasants, whom he asserted to be seized with an infectious fever, had carried on a correspondence with the French, as had PATOKI, a merchant, born at Colmar, who had lately received the right of citizenship.
The palaces of the Elector and the Provost were now ransacked; and, though it had been published as a rule, that the property of private individuals should not be touched, the houses of the nobility were treated, as if they had belonged to the Prince. The profligacy and pride of Custine became every day more conspicuous, and were oppressive upon the garrison, as well as the inhabitants, though in a less degree. Johannesberg, a village upon the Rhine, at the distance of a few miles, is celebrated for its wines, which fell for three times the price of those of Hockheim. Custine sent a part of the garrison solely to bring him the wines from the cellars of the Prince of Fuld, who has a palace there; but, a compromise being proposed, the negotiation was protracted so long, that a Prussian corps, for which the Prince had sent, carried Johannesberg, before the terms were concluded. The Prince saved his money, and lost only eighteen barrels of wine, of which part was sent to Paris, and the rest supplied the entertainments given by Custine.
Those of the Germans, who attached themselves to Custine, supplied him with information of the state of the whole country. His Secretary, Professor Bohmer, had begun the institution of a Club so early as the 22d of October; but this society is thought to have become inconvenient, and they soon after began to prepare for a National Convention in Mentz.
In the mean time, Cassel was surveyed, and the fortifications, for which Eikenmayer is said to have furnished the design, were commenced. The neighbouring peasants were summoned to work at these, at the price of fifteen French sous, or about seven pence halfpenny a day; and intrenchments were thrown round Kostheim.
On the 17th of December, Custine published a proclamation, in which he stated, that, whereas some persons had supposed the King of Prussia to have so little respect for his character as to have invited him to a surrender, none should presume, on pain of death, to speak of such a measure, in future. This proclamation gave the inhabitants of Mentz information, that the Prussians were approaching. Some German troops had, indeed, begun by degrees to occupy the ground about Coblentz, but in a condition, which did not promise active measures, being weakened by a long march and by sickness; the Hessians posted themselves between Hanau and Franckfort; and the Prussians advanced so near to the latter city, that the scattered parties of the French retired to, and at length lost it.
About this time, an Electoral Professor of Philosophy and a Canon of Mentz, named Dorsel, who had left his posts, in the preceding year, to be naturalized, at Strasbourg, returned with a design for an union of Spires, Worms and Mentz into one territory, under the protection of the French. He procured the substitution of a Municipality for the City Council. He obtained considerable influence in the city; and, on the 1st of January 1793, when the three commissioners of the Convention, Reubell, Merlin and Haussman entered Mentz, and were received by Custine with military honours, they shewed more attention to the Professor than to the General.
The Prussian head quarters had been established within a short distance of Mentz; but, during all December, there had been only affairs of advanced posts, so that some tranquillity prevailed in the city. On the 6th of January, Hockheim was assailed by six thousand Prussians; the French, however, had been informed of the preparations for attack, and had time to retire to Kostheim and Cassel, leaving 112 prisoners and twelve pieces of cannon. Some French, who had concealed themselves in the church tower, were thrown headlong from it, for having shouted, or thrown stones at the King of Prussia, as he passed.
After this, another month passed, without hostile attempts on either side. The Prussian troops were refreshed by rest; the French passed the same time, partly in balls, to which all the ladies of Mentz were invited, and partly in preparations for defence. On the 17th of January, a small tree of liberty, which had been planted in November, was removed, and a fir, seventy feet high, placed in its stead, with much ceremony. All the inhabitants were pressingly invited, upon this occasion; Messrs. Reubell, Merlin, Haussman and Custine attended; the Mayor, Municipality, and the Members of the Clubs followed; the ensigns of the former government were burned; Custine called upon the music of the garrison for French airs, which occupied the rest of the day; and the evening concluded with entertainments and dancing. Soon after, the Commissioners left the city, and proceeded on a journey to the Moselle.
On the 16th of February, Custine published a proclamation, and two new Commissioners, who had just arrived, issued another, founded upon a decree of the French Convention, relative to the union of other countries with France. The Council House was full from morning till night; the assembled traders declared their adherence to the Germanic system; and the new Commissioners seemed inclined to listen to their remonstrances. But, when the three former Commissioners returned, they treated the Deputies of the trades with great haughtiness, and refused them permission to send agents to Paris. A second deputation, on the 22d of February, was no better received, and they were informed, that the 24th was the day for the commencement of the new form. The traders are described to have been much affected, at the return of their Deputies. On the 23d of February, early in the morning, the author of a remonstrance, which had been presented, was arrested and carried into banishment, being accompanied by guards to the advanced posts of the Prussians, at Hockheim.
The inhabitants now began to leave the city by passports, which were, however, not easily procured, or used. A proclamation by the Municipality divided Mentz into sections, and directed the manner, in which each section should elect a representative, on the 24th. On that day, the streets were unusually silent, all the former burgesses having resolved to remain in their houses, except one, and only 266 persons met to take the new oath and to make the new elections. On the 25th, another proclamation came out, and several banishments succeeded; but the burgesses still adhered to their resolution. The Municipality, on the 1st of March, again invited them to take the new oaths, and gave notice of an order of the Commissioners to the Mayor, to publish a list of the sworn and unsworn, on the Monday or Tuesday following. Notwithstanding this, the number of sworn did not equal 350.
Some of the neighbouring villages, which were visited by the French Commissioners, accepted their terms; the greater part refused them.
At Worms, where clubs, similar to those at Mentz, had been formed, 1051 persons took the oaths. The inhabitants of Bingen refused them.
In the mean time, some expeditions were made into the Palatinate, and corn, to the amount of sixty thousand florins, was taken away, before the reiterated remonstrances of the Palatine Resident at Mentz, upon the subject of his master's neutrality, could restrain them. In the first days of February, the French had also entered Deux Ponts, where the Duke relied so much upon his having supplied only his contingent to the treasure of the Empire, that he had not left his palace, though he knew of their approaches to his country. On the 9th, at eleven at night, the Duke and Duchess fled, with the utmost precipitation, to Manheim, having left the palace only one hour before the French entered it. Great quantities of forage were swept away from this country, and brought to Mentz, which the allies now approached so nearly, that the garrison hastily completed the fortifications of Cassel, and filled the magazines with stores, left the communication should be cut off by the destruction of the bridge.
On the 15th of February, they had begun to destroy the palace of
La Favorita,
and to erect a battery upon its ruins. Though the carriage of provisions now occupied so much of their attention, a great number of large and small cannon were brought from Landau; fresh troops arrived, and General Wimpfen, who had defended Thionville against the King of Prussia, was declared the first in command. By banishments and emigration, the number of persons in the city was reduced fifteen thousand.
The new National Assembly met in Mentz, on the 10th of March, that city having chosen six deputies, Spires two, Worms two, and some other places one each. On the 17th, they had their first sitting, and, on the 18th, declared all the country between Landau and Bingen, which places were then the limits of the French posts near the Rhine, united in one independent state. On the 19th, was agitated the great question relative to the connections of this state, and it was not till the 21st, that they declared their incorporation with the French. Three deputies, FORSTER, PATOKI and LUCKS were appointed, the next day, to carry this resolution to Paris; and several decrees, relative to the interior administration of this state, were passed, in consequence of which many persons were conducted over the bridge into banishment, on the 30th.
Accounts now arrived, that the siege would shortly commence, and orders were issued, relative to the prevention of fires, to the collection of stores of provisions by each family, and to several other domestic particulars. All the inhabitants, those especially in the neighbourhood of the granaries, were directed to preserve large quantities of water; and the proprietors of gardens within the city were ordered to plant them with herbs. Officers were sent round to examine these gardens. Already each family had been admonished to provide subsistence for seven months; and the richer class were now directed to furnish a loan to the burgesses, that the latter might be enabled to provide for the poor. In consequence of this order, 38,646 florins 10 creitzers, or about 3200 l. were collected, and expended for provisions. The gardens and walks round the city were now dismantled of their trees, of which those in the
Rheinallee,
before mentioned, were an hundred years old. All the summer-houses and villas, within cannon-shot of the city, were destroyed.
On the 8th of March, the French garrison in the fortress of Konigstein, which the Prussians had blockaded for some months, surrendered. In this month also other advances were made towards Mentz. The Prussian General Schonfield brought 12,000 men into the neighbourhood of Hockheim, near which the Saxons were posted; the King of Prussia, his son and the Duke of Brunswick, who had passed part of the winter at Franckfort, left it, on the 23d of March; a bridge was laid, at St. Goar, over which numerous bodies of Prussian troops passed the Rhine; the French fell back towards Bingen, and the Prussians occupied a hill, not far from it. On the 28th, they were closer pressed, and left all the villages in the neighbourhood of Bingen, from which place they were driven, the next day, by a bombardment.
At the same time, a similar retreat towards Mentz also took place from the southward. At Worms, during the abandonment, great quantities of hay and straw were burned, and the burgesses kept watch, all night, dreading the conflagration of the whole city by the flames, rising from the magazines. Immense masses of hay and straw were also burned at Frankenthal, where there had been a garrison, during the whole winter; but the corn was carried away. At Spires, early on the 31st of March, the burgesses and troops were employed in throwing the hay and straw from the magazines into the ditch; but it appeared that even this mode would not be expeditious enough, and fire was at length set to the whole store at once.
In the retreat from Oppenheim, though the French were under considerable difficulties, they were upon the point of obtaining what they would have thought an abundant reward for them. It was on the 30th of March, that their cavalry and flying artillery took the road by Alsheim. As this was a place capable of making some defence, and there were Prussian troops visible at the gates, they began the attack by planting cannon, and directing a vigorous fire upon it. The King of Prussia, who was at dinner in the town, and had not an hundred men with him, received his first intelligence of their approach from this fire. He immediately rode out, on the opposite side, and, sending some hussars to the spot, the French did not continue the contest, but made their retreat by another road. If they had known how few troops were in the town, they would, of course, have entered it without commencing this fire; and the Prussian officers agree, that, if they had done so, there would have been little chance of saving their monarch. Had they been aware also, that his Prussian Majesty was there, they might have reduced this slight chance to an impossibility; for they were sufficiently numerous to have surrounded the town, and had approached so quietly, that they were not known to be near it. The Prussians had no cannon, and the French were otherwise greatly superior; though, having no other purpose for entering the town, than to continue their retreat, they did not wait to contest it, but retired by another road. That a circumstance, which would have had such an effect upon the affairs of Europe, should have depended upon so slight a chance as this, we could not have believed, if the story had not been confirmed to us by ample authority.
The garrison of Mentz was increased by these retreats to 23,000 men; General Kalkreuth, who commanded the blockade from Laubenheim to Budenheim, a distance of twelve miles, had only 16,000 men. General Schonfield, with his corps of observation, was at Hockheim. The besiegers, however, presently amounted to 30,000 men. It is remarkable, that, though the French retreated from several quarters, at once, and in many small columns, not one of these was effectually interrupted by the Prussian commander.
Upon intelligence of these advances, the Elector of Mentz paid a visit to the King of Prussia, at his head quarters, and left his minister, the Baron d'ALBINI, to attend to the affairs of the recovered places.
In the beginning of April, the blockade was more closely pressed, and the preparations for the siege seriously commenced. General d'OYRE was made commander in the city, with a Council of sixteen persons, to assist him in restoring the means of its defence. A person was placed at the top of an high building, called Stephen's Tower, with glasses, which enabled him to overlook the country for nine miles round. He had a secretary with him, that his view might never be unnecessarily diverted, and was obliged to make a daily report of his observations. The beating of drums and ringing of bells were forbidden throughout the whole city, that the besiegers might not know in what quarters the corps de garde were placed, or what churches were left without the military. All prospect houses and trees within the walls, which could serve as marks to the fire without, were ordered to be demolished. Many days were passed in bringing further stores of provisions into the city; after which an account of the stock was taken, and there were found to be
24,090 sacks of wheat.
1,465 of other corn.
996 of mixed grain.
Of which 26,551 sacks, it was stated, that 23,070 sacks of meal could be made. To this was to be added in sifted meal of wheat 109 sacks, of other corn 45 sacks, of mixed grain 10,076 sacks; making in all 33,300 sacks of meal. There were besides
43,960 rations of biscuit.
7,275 pounds of rice.
13,045 of dried herbs.
Of forage there were 10,820 quintals of hay.
54,270 of straw.
1,518 sacks of oats.
2,503 of barley.
The Council estimated, that the garrison had corn enough for nine months, rice for seven, and herbs for six. There were fifteen hundred horses, and it was reckoned, that the straw was enough for ten months, the oats for four-and-twenty days, and the barley for eighty days. The garrison was numbered, and found to consist of 22,653 persons; of whom to each soldier was allotted, for the future, 24 ounces of bread, per day, in lieu of 28, and 4 ounces of fresh meat, or 3 ounces of salt, in lieu of 8 ounces of fresh. The allowance of the sick in the hospitals was changed from twelve to eight ounces.
During these preparations for a long siege, the diminution of the number of inhabitants, by means of the clubs, was pursued. On the 8th of April, all persons, not useful to the army, were ordered to leave the city, unless they would take the new oath; at the same time, it was said, that, on account of the foreseen want of money, the soldiers, employed on the works, would be no longer paid, but the other workmen would continue to receive their salaries.
The garrison made their first sortie, on the night of the 10th and 11th, proceeding towards the Rhine. Kostheim was immediately taken, and the attack upon the Hessians succeeded, at first, but a reinforcement compelled the French to retire. About this time, the Commissioner Reubell went to Oppenheim, where he delivered a proposal for peace to the King of Prussia.
The village of Weissenau was contended for, on the 15th, 16th and 17th, and finally destroyed, the French soldiers, who remained upon the spot, subscribing 460 livres for the inhabitants.
On the 18th, nearly the whole of a French convoy of 90 waggons was taken by the Prussians. On the 20th the Imperialists erected a small fort on a point of land, near the Main, and the French, on the other hand, perfected a battery, at Kostheim, with which they set on fire some stables.
The price of provisions was already so much increased in the city, that salt butter cost 48 creitzers, or 16d. pence per pound.
In the night of the 28th and 29th, the French landed in three vessels, and destroyed a battery, erected near the Main. On the 1st of May, at one in the morning, they attacked the Prussians, at Hockheim, and set the village of Kostheim on fire. The Prussians repulsed them with loss, but they remained in Kostheim, notwithstanding the fire, which continued for three days; they were then expelled by the Prussians, but soon returned with reinforcements, and a sanguinary contest commenced, at the end of which they continued to be masters of the village. A numerous garrison was placed in it, which, on the 8th, was again attacked by the Prussians, but without effect. Thus the greatest part of May was spent in contests for villages and posts, in which the French were generally the assailants. In the night of the 30th, they beat up, in three columns, the Prussian head quarters, at Marienborn. Having marched barefooted and with such exact information, that they passed all the batteries unperceived, they entered the village itself, without resistance, and, it is supposed, would have surprised the commander, if they had not fired at his windows, beat their drums, and begun to shout
Vive la nation!
Three balls, which entered the apartment of General KALKREUTH, admonished him to quit it, and a sentinel stepped up just in time to shoot a French soldier, who had seized him. Prince Louis Ferdinand of Prussia immediately arrived with some troops, and the French began to retire, leaving thirty prisoners and twenty killed of 6000, engaged in the enterprise. The loss of the Prussians was considerable; amongst the rest Captain Voss, a relative of Mademoiselle Voss, well known in the Court of Prussia.
On the 4th of June, the allowance to the garrison was ordered to be two pounds of bread and one bottle of wine for each soldier, per day.
In the night of the 6th and 7th, the cannonade was very fierce, on both sides; in Mentz a powder magazine was fired by a bomb, and blew up with a dreadful explosion.
The scarceness of provisions increased, so that a pound of fresh butter cost six shillings. Horseflesh began to be consumed in many families.
On the night of the 9th and 10th of June, the garrison made four sorties, which ended in considerable loss, on both sides, and in the retirement of the French into the city. On the 10th, they attacked, at eight in the morning, a post near Gonsenheim, retreating without loss, after killing an officer and several men. This was their first sally in open day-light.
General Meusnier, who had been wounded near Cassel, on the 7th, died on the 13th, and was buried the next day, within the new fortifications, all the officers of the garrison, with the members of the convention and clubs, attending.
Some fire ships were now completed, which a Dutch engineer had conducted from Holland, to be employed by the besiegers in burning the bridge of boats over the Rhine. It was thought, however, that their explosion would damage the city unnecessarily, and they were rejected. In the night of the 15th, one of these floated down the river, whether by accident, or by the connivance of the inventor, is not known; the inhabitants were in the utmost terror, but it struck against the quay, and, being immediately boarded, did no damage.
The trenches were opened, in the night of the 16th and 17th, but, the workmen having been ill conducted, were not covered in, at day-light, and were compelled to retire, leaving their implements behind them. Two nights afterwards, the work was renewed in good order and without loss, the King of Prussia, his sons and the Duke of Brunswick surveying them from a neighbouring height. The first balls fell in a street near one of the gates, and all that part of the town was presently deserted.
The 24th was a distressful day for the inhabitants. Four days before, the King of Prussia had sent a general passport for such as chose to come out, and 1500 persons, chiefly women and children, had accepted his offer. A short time after the gate had been opened, dismay was spread through the whole city by an account, that the Prussians would suffer no more to pass and the French none to return. The bridge was covered with these unhappy fugitives, who had no food, or shelter, and who thought themselves within reach of the Hockheim batteries, that played furiously upon the city. Two children lost their senses through fright. At length, the French soldiers took compassion upon them; they carried several persons into the city under their cloaks, and, the next day, their remonstrances against the inhumanity of the German clubbists, who had shut the gates against this defenceless crowd, obliged them to permit the return of the whole number.
For several succeeding nights, the garrison made sorties, with various effect, interrupting, but not preventing the completion of the parallel.
At sunset, on the 27th, the besiegers began a dreadful cannonade and bombardment. On this night, the steeple of the church of Notre Dame caught fire; and during the alarm, excited by an immense volume of flame, arising in the midst of the city, the Austrians completely carried the French posts, near Weissenau. The next night was equally terrible to the inhabitants; the flames caught several parts of the city, amongst others the cathedral; some of the magazines took fire, and eleven hundred sacks of corn were burned. The church, formerly belonging to the Jesuits, was much injured. The French, intending to retaliate their last surprise upon the Austrians, made a fruitless attack upon the Weissenau redoubt.
On the 29th of June, at mid-day, the French were driven from a point of land, near the Main, called the Bleiau. In this affair, a vessel, with 78 Prussians on board, drove from her anchor, owing to the unskilfulness of the crew, and, during a fire, by which eight men were killed, made towards the city. The Prussians were taken prisoners, and exchanged the next day. At night, the bombardment was renewed; the
Domprobstei,
or palace of the Provost, was burned and several of the neighbouring residences; in other parts of the city, some houses were reduced to ashes.
The next night, the church of the Franciscans and several other public buildings were destroyed. A dreadful fire, on the night of the 2d and 4th of June, consumed the chapel of St. Alban. Families in the southern part of the city now constantly passed the night in their cellars; in the day-time, they ventured into their usual apartments; for the batteries of the besiegers were by far the most terrible, at night, when the whole city was a sufficient mark for them, though their works could scarcely be discerned by the garrison. In the day-time, the exactness of the French gunners frequently did great injury to the batteries, which, at night, were repaired and used with equal effect against the city.
St. Alban's fort was now demolished, so that the besieged withdrew their cannon from it. Elizabeth fort was also much damaged. A strong work, which the French had raised, in prolongation of the
glacis,
divided the opinions of the Prussian engineers. Some thought it should be preserved, when taken, because it would command part of the town; others, that it should be demolished. The latter opinion prevailed, and, in the night of the 5th and 6th, General MANSTEIN was ordered to make the attack with three battalions. He perfectly succeeded, as to the nearest part of the work, but the other, on account of its solid foundation, could not be entirely destroyed. In the mean time, two battalions were sent, under cover of the darkness, to attack the Zahlbach fort, a part of which they carried by storm; but the reinforcements, immediately supplied by the garrison, obliged them to retire. Two Prussian officers were killed; one wounded, and another, with one-and-thirty men, taken. The Prussians lost in all
83 men; the French had twelve killed and forty-seven wounded.
On the 6th of July, the French repaired the damaged fort, the distance of it from the Prussians preventing the latter from hindering them.
At night, General Kleist carried the fort, at Zahlbach, by a second attack, and demolished it; at the same time, some batteries of the second parallel were perfected. The French could not support the loss of this fort; on the 7th, they attacked the scite; carried it, after a severe contest; and rebuilt it. At night, they were driven back again and the fort entirely destroyed. In the same night they were driven from Kostheim, after a furious battle, by the Prussian General Schonfield. During this engagement, the rapid succession of flashes and explosion of bombs seemed to fill the air with flame. A Prussian detachment having been posted on the road to Cassel, in order to prevent the garrison of that place from sending succour to Kostheim, this road was so strongly bombarded by the French, that seven bombs were frequently seen in the air at once. The loss was great, on both sides, in this engagement, after which the Council in the city resolved, to make no more attempts upon Kostheim, on account of the distance.
The following night, the fire was less than usual, but a few bombs and grenades fell in the city, where the inhabitants had now learned to extinguish such as grounded, before their
fusees
were consumed. They also formed themselves into parties for the ready suppression of fires. The next morning, the garrison saw the works of the besiegers brought to within two hundred and fifty paces of the walls.
About this time, the sickliness of the garrison became apparent, and General d'Oyré informed the Council, that, on account of this and of the fatiguing service of the works, he feared the defence could not be much longer continued. He lamented, that the troops of the line were so few, and the others so inexperienced.
For several nights, the works of the besiegers were eagerly pushed, but still they were not so forward, as had been expected. Some of the besieging corps began to be sickly; the King of Prussia having resolved to employ no more labourers, it was reckoned, that the soldiers, for eight-and-forty hours of work, had only eighteen of rest. On the other hand, they were assured, that the garrison must be equally fatigued, since, in such an extensive fortification, none could be left long unemployed.
The French had been, for some time, busied in forming what is called a Fleche at the head of one of their forts, and this was thought necessary to be destroyed. It was attacked in the night of the 12th and 13th by the Austrians; but so much time was passed in their operations, that the French fell upon them, in great force, about two in the morning, and beat them away, with loss. The Austrians were as little employed as possible in services of this sort.
On the 13th of July, another battery was stormed by the Prussians; but, as the officer, unlike the Austrians, advanced with too little caution, his party was much hurt by some pieces of concealed cannon, and the enterprise failed.
The night of the 13th and 14th was passed in much agitation by the garrison and inhabitants. Several of the public buildings were set fire to and burned by grenades. The works of the besiegers were now greatly advanced. The garrison made five sorties in this night, and were repulsed in all, losing an hundred men, while the besiegers lost eight killed and one-and-thirty wounded.
On the 14th of July, a cessation of arms took place from seven o'clock in the morning till one. In the city, the French celebrated their annual fête; General d'OYRE and the troops took the oath, and MERLIN delivered an address to them. In the Austrian camp, the Prince de CONDE was received with a
feu de joye.
During this cessation, the soldiers upon the different outposts entered into conversation with each other, and the French boasted of the difficulties they laboured under from the length of the siege.
At night, an affair at the Fleche cost the allies, who succeeded in part, ninety men; the French confessed, that this work cost them in all three hundred. The inhabitants of the city were again greatly alarmed, their streets being covered with a shower of grenades. The laboratory and a part of the Benedictine abbey were burned, and two explosions took place at the former. The whole city shook with each report, and, in the nearer parts, all the windows were broken and the doors burst open. The remainder of the hay and straw was consumed in this fire; the whole stock of other forage was reduced to a sufficiency for four days; and the surgeon's stores were much damaged.
Still the Fleche prevented the besiegers from completing their second parallel. It was, therefore, again attacked, on the night of the 16th and 17th, Prince Louis Ferdinand of Prussia commanding at the assault, in which he was one of twelve officers wounded. The Fleche was then completely carried.
The next night was very industriously spent by the besiegers in forming new batteries, and those of the second parallel were raised, before there were cannon enough at hand to place upon them. The French took advantage of this, and brought a part of theirs to bear, so as to enfilade the parallel, with great effect; the Prussians almost immediately losing an officer and forty men.
In the city, the sick had now increased so much, that six hundred men were brought from Cassel, on the 17th, to reinforce the garrison. On the 18th, the commandant informed the Council, that there was a want of fodder and such a loss of horses, by desertion, that there were not cavalry enough left for service. The soldiers, who knew the deficiency of medicines and other means of relief for the wounded, were unwilling to be led to sorties. Though corn had not failed, flour, it appeared, soon would, for some of the mills had been rendered unserviceable, for the present, by shot, and others were deserted by the millers.
At night, after an unsuccessful attempt upon the Fleche, it was resolved, that the garrison, which had hitherto scarcely suffered a night to pass, without making some sorties, should, for the future, adhere solely to defensive measures. Some engineers proposed to abandon the whole line of forts, and others, that two of the largest should be blown up. The General and Council, at length, confessed, that they could not continue the defence, and assured the inhabitants, who had declared themselves in their favour, that a longer delay of the surrender would produce a more severe disposition of the besiegers towards them, without increasing the chance of escaping it.
A negotiation, relative to the surrender, was now begun by D'OYRE, in a letter, which partly replied to one from the Prussian commander KALKREUTH, upon the subject of the departure of aged persons and children from the city. Their correspondence continued till the 20th, and several letters were exchanged, chiefly upon the question of the removal, or detention of the inhabitants, who had attached themselves to the French; it was then broken off, upon a disagreement, as to this and some other points. The firing, on both sides, had in the mean time continued, and the besiegers carried on the trenches, though these were now such an easy mark for the garrison, that they lost an officer and five-and-twenty men, in the night of the 19th and 20th. The next night, the Dominicans' church in the city took fire, and six French soldiers were buried under its ruins.
Upon a renewal of the intercourse, the fire slackened, on the 21st; but, on some delays in the negotiation, was threatened to be recommenced. At length, the conditions of the surrender were settled, and the negotiation signed, on the 22d of July, by the two Generals Kalkreut hand D'Oyré; the former having rendered the capitulation somewhat easier than was expected for the garrison, because the Duke of Brunswick had only nineteen thousand men to cover the siege, and Custine had forty thousand, which were near enough to attack him. General KALKREUTH'S orders are supposed to have been to obtain possession of the place, upon any terms, that would give it him quickly.
At this time, the garrison, which, at the commencement of the siege, had consisted of 22,653 men, was reduced to 17,038, having had 1959 killed, 3334 wounded, or rendered unserviceable by sickness, and having lost 322 by desertion.
The loss of the besiegers is stated at about 3000 men.
The consumption of ammunition, on the part of the French, was found to have been
681,850 pounds of powder,
106,152 cannon balls,
10,278 bombs,
6592 grenades,
44,500 pounds of iron,
300,340 musquet cartridges;
and, during the siege, 107 cannon either burst, or were rendered unserviceable by the besiegers' shot. Towards the conclusion, sixty cannon also became useless by the failure of balls of the proper calibre.
On the 24th and 25th, the garrison marched out, MERLIN leading the first column of 7500 men. The members of the Clubs, who would have gone out with the troops, were pointed out by the other inhabitants and detained; but the Elector had the magnanimity to think of no other retaliation, than their imprisonment in a tower, near the Rhine, where they have since remained.
There was now leisure to examine the city, and it was found, that six churches were in ruins; that seven mansions of the nobility had been burned, and that very few houses had escaped, without some damage. The surrounding grounds were torn up by balls and batteries. The works of Cassel were surrendered entire to the conquerors, and are an important addition to the strength of Mentz, already reckoned one of the strongest and largest fortifications in Europe. Between Cassel and the ruins of Kostheim not a tree was to be seen. All the neighbouring villages were more, or less, injured, being contended for, as posts, at the commencement of the siege; and the country was so much disfigured, that the proprietors of lands had some difficulty to ascertain their boundaries.
MENTZ.
SOMETHING has been already said of the present condition 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 commerce, or for having its middle classes numerously filled. Any such opinion of Mentz will be very incorrect. After two broad and somewhat 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 hundred pounds in a year, has his house in better condition, as to neatness, 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.
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 render their political condition enviable to the other inhabitants of the Electorate. But, though these have invited manufacturers, and somewhat encouraged commerce, there is not wealth enough in the neighbouring country, to make such a consumption, as shall render many traders prosperous. In point of wealth, activity and address, the burgesses 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.
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 extracted; 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 the middle classes it is apparent, that Mentz could not have been important, 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 remains; and all expenditure is upon a reduced footing.
The contribution of the inhabitants towards a support of the garrison 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 inconvenience 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 capital. 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 splendour. Their carriages and liveries vie with those of the other attendants 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 embroidery of gold, and cloths of any colours, except scarlet, or green, which, as well as silver lace, are thought too gay. Being thus permitted 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 passenger. 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 Director of the Electoral College. In the Diet, he sits on the right hand 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 collected.
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 bombproof 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, 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 fortifications 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,
Herzogenbusch;
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 according 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 characters either for splendour or trade, we were surprised to find in this 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 animation of his peculiar manner. We shall not assume the disadvantage 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 commercial 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 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 jealousy 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 circumstance, 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 expensive 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 temptation to oppose it was considerably greater. What would the most capable of the neighbouring Princes gain by the seizure of Franckfort? 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 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 supposition 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 market, which Franckfort affords, for the produce and manufactures of all the neighbouring states; its value as a banking
depôt
and
emporium,
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 incapacity for offensive measures; and its usefulness as a place of meeting to themselves, or their ministers, when political connections are to be discussed.
That the inhabitants do enjoy this independence without and freedom 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 subdued 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 servility, 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 substantial, 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 inutility. 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 fortifications 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, blue and white, are of the cut of those in the prints of MARLBOROUGH'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 accordingly 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 the other. The inhabitants, who were not expert at military numeration, 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 retirement 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 cannon, was answered, that no men could be spared; and that, as to cannon, he might use the city artillery. Helden endeavoured to remove 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 tranquil, 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 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 advantages 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 intellectual 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 have a facility, elegance and force in it, distinct from the endowments of deliberative wisdom; may be taught to speak in terms remote from common use, to combine them with an unfailing dexterity of arrangement, and to invest every thought with its portion of artificial dignity, who, through the chaos of benefits and evils, which the agitation 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 wholesome truth for a confiding and an honest country. To estimate the general intellectual powers of men, tutored to oratory, from their success 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 physical desolation otherwise spread over the country.
The assistance, which the mutual use of languages gives to a connection 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 majority being able to converse with nine or ten English, who were there, in their own language. Of the merchants, who have not been in 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 German; 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 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 beginning, 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 regiments, 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 obligingly 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 Commandant, 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.
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 Fourteenth'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 country, 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 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 vehemently 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 Goodesberg, in the richness, though not in the sublimity of its prospect.
From hence the road leads through a fertile country of corn and vines, but at a greater distance from the river, to Worms, five or six miles from which it becomes broad, straight, and bordered with regularly-planted trees, that form an avenue to the city. Soon after leaving 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 Elector'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 Fourteenth 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 Oppenheim, 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 mingled 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 circumstanced, 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 obtain 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 Anhalt Plessis, who had been wounded, in the morning, when the French attacked all the neighbouring lines of the allies, and an indecisive 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 monasteries, that yet remain, at Worms; the war appeared to have depopulated 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 interrupted, when Melancthon, on one side, and Echius, on the other, had engaged in it, ordering them to resume their arguments, in his presence, 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 synagogue, 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 opulent 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 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 entreaties of his daughter. Here too George the Second held his headquarters, 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 Bonfleur, who soon distressed the inhabitants by preparations for blowing 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 daylight 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 Franckenthal 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 liberality of the Elector, though far from being answerable, either in their capitals, or produce, to the English idea of similar enterprises, command 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 deputy must be at least as tall as his principal; a regulation, which makes the price of substitutes depend upon their height, and frequently renders it impossible for the principals to avail themselves of the permission. A farmer in this neighbourhood, who was considerably 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 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 splendidly 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 Manheim, 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 operations 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 contribute much to the present security of the city, which might otherwise 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 grandeur 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 usual enquiries, the troops were more numerous; and surely no military 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 buildings, 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 Germany, 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 daytime a traveller may be somewhat surprised at the fewness of passengers 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 German cities, till he is as much disgusted as deceived by every idea derived from description, may be perceived in several parts of Manheim, and the justness of disposition in all.
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 general 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 fortifications 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 hundred 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-Philippe, 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 right wing was added by the present Elector, not to be used as a residence, 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 paintings and books having been removed from this, as well as great part of the furniture from the whole palace, in the dread of an approaching 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 mansions 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 courtiers, when compliments were paid literally at a levee. In the court of France, this practice continued even to very late years, and there 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 Fourteenth, 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 Mareschal 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 contents 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 various 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.
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 southward 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 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 remonstrances of the Emperor, who offered, but without success, to garrison his capital with Austrians. From the observatory, the camp and the works were easily seen, and, by the help of a Dollond telescope, the only optical instrument remaining, the order of both was so exactly pointed out by our guide, that it was not difficult to comprehend 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 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 application, 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 Theatre founded in 1779 at the expence of the Elector. The Baron de Dahlberg, one of his Ministers, has the superintendance of it. 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 presence of the Minister of Finances, and one of them is less disadvantageous 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 Genoa, 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 successively 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 disbursements, with useful purposes, if not to useful effects. Of his foundation 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 purpose of purifying and the difficult one of fixing language; the Cabinet of Physics, or rather of experimental philosophy, celebrated for the variety and magnitude of its instruments, among which are two burning glasses of three feet diameter, said to be capable of liquefying 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 under 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 instruments, 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 ordinary 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 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 madder, and the landscape is enlivened with small, but neat countryhouses, scattered along the margin of the Neckar. The neighbourhood 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 evening, 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 something approaching to horror, when the circumstances of the place are remembered, and it is considered how soon these men, sent to inflict death on others, may themselves be thrown into the unnumbered 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 neighbouring 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, 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 recesses, 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 necessary 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 mottos, 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 ascending 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 headquarters of the Austrian army, and the latter is memorable for having given birth to Melancthon in 1491. Waghausel and Bruchsal 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 the woods, where imitations of a Spanish bull feast have been exhibited; 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 description. 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 become visible, the road winding along them, on the edge of the forest, 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; 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 interruption. It is less than Manheim by at least half, and has no considerable 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 windows, 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 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 edisice, 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 distinguished only by the white cockade, and by a bandage of white linen, impressed with black
fleurs de lis,
upon the right arm. They were chiefly on foot, and then wore only their swords, without firearms.
Near the road, a small party of Austrians were guarding a magazine, 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 carriage 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 intolerable.
The first house in Rastadt is the palace of the Margrave of Baden 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 splendidly 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, uncommonly broad, so much so, that the upper end is used as a marketplace, and the statue of the founder, Prince Louis, in the centre, is seen with all the advantages of space and perspective. There is, notwithstanding, 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 established in the city. We passed an hour at an inn, which was nearly filled by part of this corps, and were compelled to witness the distress 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 morning 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 yellow 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, 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 somewhat of a ruddy brown in their complexion, instead of the sallowness, that renders the ferocious, or sullen air of the others more striking. 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 gracefully 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 however bad and scarce; the appearance so disgusting before it is dressed, that those, who can accommodate their palates to the cooking, 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 tranquillity 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 ingenious 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, maintained some commerce with France, on their own account, and supplied 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 frequent, that nearly all the tradesmen, and many of the labouring persons 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 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 surrender 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 commenced their march a few hours before, for the purpose of avoiding 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 compelled 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 windows. 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 practicable, was not adopted, though this method would have saved two weeks out of three, and have landed the army unfatigued at its post.
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 ripening 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 extended to the south. In these landscapes the peasant girl, in the simple dress of the country, and balancing on her large straw hat an harvest 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 multitudinous 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 expectations; while we watched with regret even this partial vision vanishing from our eyes as we descended towards Friburg. The mountains, 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 system our existence is upheld, somewhat of dejection and anxiety mingle 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 present condition, like that of many others, is a proof of the virtual discontinuance of the rights, by which the Sovereign intended to invite 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 tapering 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 provided 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 journey 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, encroachments 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 termination, 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 incidentally, 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 Switzerland, 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 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 introduction 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 occurred again to the mind, only to torture it with the certainty of our loss; but, as the distance from Switzerland increased, the attractions of home gathered strength, and the inconveniences of Germany, which had been so readily felt before, could scarcely be noticed when we knew them to lie in the road to England.
We passed Offenburg, on the first day of our return, and, travelling 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 apartment 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 landlord chose to retain their inscriptions. Their meeting here was probably 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 before, 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 unfortunate 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 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 consolations 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 monopoly 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, distinguish 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 postillion is entitled to a trinkgeld, or drink-money, of another half florin; 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, including the tolls and the
trinkgeld,
which word the postillions accommodate 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 proper ones, and that the necessity of buying a carriage, which may be urged to them, is merely that of shew; these chaises are more inconvenient and filthy, than any travelling carriage, seen in England, can give an idea of, and a stranger should not enter Germany, before he 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 robbed, 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 mentioned. The Germans, who, in summer, travel chiefly by night, are seldom armed, and are so far from thinking even watchfulness necessary, that most of their carriages, though open in front, during the day-time, are contrived with curtains and benches, in order to promote rest. The post-masters also assure you, that, if there were robbers, 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, while they have the yellow coat on. In disputes with their passengers 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 usually 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 provided 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 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 frequently, 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 situated, 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 discernible. Several of the inhabitants had hired boats to be in readiness 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 imitations of the Dutch trechtschuyts, or what, upon the Thames, would be called House-boats; but, for the sake of being allowed to dispose 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, however, nearly two hours before the windings of the Rhine permitted 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 German 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 advanced, 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.
On the eastern margin are two small towns, Oder and Niederingelheim, 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 Johannesberg, rich with all this produce, for the security of which there are immense cellars, cut in the rock below, said to be capable of containing 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 monasteries of Nothgottes, Aulenhausen, and Eibingen.
Further on is the large modern chateau of Count Ostein, a nobleman of great wealth, and, as it appears, of not less taste. Having 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 endeavouring 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 perpendicular 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 Drusithor, or, the gate of Drusus. Its appearance, however, is neither rendered venerable by age, or neat by novelty. The present buildings 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 destroyed 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 abandoned 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 inhabitants 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 repeated 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 campaign of 1792, and was then nearly the northernmost of their posts on the Rhine. It was regained by the Prussians in their advances 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 Bingen, 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 counties of England, as well as in Germany, is among several instances of exact similarity, as there are many of resemblance, between the present 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 approbation of what they hear, the Germans say,
"So—so;"
pronouncing the words slowly and long; exactly as our brethren of Scotland would. In a printed narrative of the siege of Mentz there is this passage,
"
Funfzehn hundert menschen, meistens weiber und kinder—wanderten mit dem bundel under dem arm uber die brucke;
"
—Fifteen hundred persons, mostly wives and children, wandered, 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, 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 deprived of his see for being
"
an English idcot, that could not speak French,
"
one would fondly imagine had the effect due to all persecutions, 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 German 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 rapidity of the stream, the aspect of the dark disjointed cliffs, under which we passed, and the strength of the wind, opposing our entrance among their chasms, and uniting with the sounding force of the waters to baffle the dexterity of the boatmen, who struggled 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.
Reviewing this now, in the leisure of recollection, these nervous lines of Thomson appear to describe much of the scene:
The rous'd up river pours along;
Resistless, roaring, dreadful, down it comes
From the rude mountain, and the mossy wild,
Tumbling through rocks abrupt, and sounding far;
— again constrain'd
Between two meeting hills, it bursts away,
Where rocks and woods o'erhang the turbid stream;
There gathering triple force, rapid, and deep,
It boils, and wheels, and foams, and thunders through.
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 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 Palatine, 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 tollhouse, 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 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 Pfalzgrafenstein, a place of such antient importance in the history of the Palatinate, that it has given its name to the whole territory in Germany 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 number of his passengers, who are also sometimes required to appear. 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.
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 supply 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 Schossberg, Rudesheim, Hockheim, Rodtland, Hinterhauser, Markerbrunner, Grafenberg, Laubenheim, Bischeim, Nierstein, Harscheim 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.
OF THE RHENISH VINEYARDS AND WINES.
THE strongest and, as they are termed, fullest-bodied wines, those, of course, which are best for keeping, are produced upon mountains of a cold and strong soil; the most brisk and spirited on a warm and gravelly situation. Those produced near the middle of an ascent are esteemed the most wholesome, the soil being there sufficiently watered, without becoming too moist; and, on this account, the vineyards of Hockheim are more esteemed than some, whose produce is better flavoured; on the contrary, those at the feet of hills are thought so unwholesome, on account of their extreme humidity, that the wine is directed to be kept for several years, before it is brought to table. The finest flavour is communicated by soils either argillaceous, or marly. Of this sort is a mountain near Bacharach, the wines of which are said to have a Muscadine flavour and to be so highly valued, that an Emperor, in the fourteenth century, demanded four large barrels of them, instead of 10,000 florins, which the city of Nuremberg would have paid for its privileges.
A vineyard, newly manured, produces a strong, spirited and wellflavoured, but usually an unwholesome wine; because the manure contains a corrosive salt and a fat sulphur, which, being dissolved, passes with the juices of the earth into the vines. A manure, consisting of street mud, old earth, the ruins of houses well broken, and whatever has been much exposed to the elements, is, however, laid on, once in five or six years, between the vintage and winter.
The sorts of vines, cultivated in the
Rheingau,
are the low ones, called the
Reistinge,
which are the most common and ripen the first; those of
Klebroth,
or red Burgundy, the wine of which is nearly purple; of Orleans and of Lambert; and lastly the tall vine, raised against houses, or supported by bowers in gardens. The wines of the two first classes are wholesome; those of the latter are reputed dangerous, or, at least, unfit to be preserved.
The vintagers do not pluck the branches by hand, but carefully cut them, that the grapes may not fall off; in the Rheingau and about Worms the cultivators afterwards bruise them with clubs, but those of Franckfort with their feet; after which the grapes are carried to the press, and the wine flows from them by wooden pipes into barrels in the cellar. That, which flows upon the first pressure, is the most delicately flavoured, but the weakest; the next is strongest and most brisk; the third is four; but the mixture of all forms a good wine. The skins are sometimes pressed a fourth time, and a bad brandy is obtained from the fermented juice; lastly, in the scarcity of pasturage in this part of Germany, they are given for food to oxen, but not to cows, their heat being destructive of milk.
To these particulars it may be useful to add, that one of the surest proofs of the purity of Rhenish is the quick rising and disappearance of the froth, on pouring it into a glass: when the beads are formed slowly and remain long, the wine is mixed and factitious.
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 persidiously 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 Oberwesel 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 unnecessary by the power of Baldwin, does not exist to insult the inhabitants 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 water. 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 rivulets, 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 surrounding 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 threatening power, that, as we glided under them, it was necessary to remember their fixed foundations, to soften the awe they inspired. 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 communication 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 resistance 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, rendered 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 etymology 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, promoted 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. Having 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,
"Lest foul invasion in disguise approach."
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 hundred 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 century, for the benefit of noble families only, and enriched by the donations 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
—"O'er the twilight groves, and dusky caves,
Long-sounding aisles, and intermingled graves,
Black Melancholy sits, and round her throws
A death-like silence, and a dread repose;
Her gloomy presence saddens all the scene,
Shades every flower, and darkens every green,
Deepens the murmur of the falling floods,
And breathes a browner horror o'er the woods."
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 interesting 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 elections of kings of the Romans, or, at least, the meetings preliminary to them, are believed to have antiently taken place. This is distinguished 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 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 meetings 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
Oberlahnstein,
which belongs to the Elector of Mentz, though separated from his other dominions by those of several Princes. To such intersections 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 persons together to decide a question, according to a common interest, who are always likely to have an individual one of more importance 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 possessions on the east bank of the Rhine are intersected by those of five 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 domestic 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 diminishes 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 contests 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 Sovereigns 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 neighbour. 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 constitutionally 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 neighbours, 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 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 Wetteravia 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 personages, 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.
Having passed a Benedictine convent, seated on the island of Oberworth, 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 discernible. 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 mentions this work, and that the rock was hewn to the depth of two hundred and eighty feet. The possession of the fortress was confirmed 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 symptom 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 romantic, and more open; spreading on the left into the plains of Coblentz, and swelling on the right into retiring mountains.
CONVERSATION RELATIVE TO FRANCE.
BUT our attention was withdrawn from the view, and our party in the cabin this day increased, by a circumstance, that occurred to our emigrant friend. Having found a large sabre, which he thought was of French manufacture, he was enquiring for the owner, when it was claimed by a gentleman, whom he recognised to be an old friend, but with whose escape from France he was unacquainted; so that he had supposed, from his rank, he must have fallen there. The meeting, on both sides, was very affecting, and they shed some tears, and embraced again and again, with all the ardour of Frenchmen, before the stranger was introduced to us, after which we had the pleasure of his company as far as Cologne.
This gentleman, a Lieutenant-Colonel before the Revolution, had made his escape from France so lately as May last, and his conversation of course turned upon his late condition. There were in most towns many persons who, like himself, were obnoxious for their principles, yet, being unsuspected of active designs, and unreached by the private malice of Roberspierre's agents, were suffered to exist out of prison. They generally endeavoured to lodge in the houses of persons favourable to the Revolution; went to no public places; never visited each other; and, when they met in the street, passed with an hasty or concealed salutation. Their apartments were frequently searched; and those, who had houses, took care to have their cellars frequently dug for saltpetre.
With respect to the prospect of any political change, they had little hopes, and still less of being able, by remaining in France, to give assistance to the Combined Powers. They expected nothing but some chance of escape, which in general they would not attempt, without many probabilities in their favour, knowing the sure consequences of being discovered. It was impossible for them to pass by the common roads, being exposed to examination at every town, and by every patrol; but, in the day-time, they might venture upon tracts through forests, and, at night, upon cultivated ground; a sort of journey, to which they were tempted by the successes of others in it, but which could not be performed, without experienced guides. It will be heard with astonishment, that, notwithstanding the many difficulties and dangers of such an employment, there were persons, who obtained a living by conducting others to the frontiers, without passing any town, village, or military post; who, having delivered one person, returned, with his recommendation, to another, and an offer to escort him for a certain sum. Our companion had waited several months for a guide, the person, whom he chose to trust, being under prior engagements, in all of which he was successful. They set out, each laden with his share of provisions, in the dress of peasants; and, without any other accident than that of being once so near the patrols as to hear their conversation, arrived in the Electorate of Treves, from whence this gentleman had been to Rastadt, for the purpose of presenting himself to M. de Condé.
It was remarkable that some of these guides did not share the principles of those, whom they conducted; yet they were faithful to their engagements, and seemed to gratify their humanity, as much as they served their interests. Considering the many contrivances, which are behind almost every political transaction, it seems not improbable, that these men were secretly encouraged by some of the rulers, who wished to be disencumbered from their enemies, without the guilt of a massacre, or the unpopularity of appearing to assist them.
The attachment to the new principles seemed to be increased, when any circumstances either of signal disadvantage, or success, occurred in the course of a campaign. The disasters of an army, it was said, attracted sympathy; their victories aroused pride. Such a change of manners and of the course of education had taken place, that the rising generation were all
enragées
in favour of the Revolution; of which the following was a remarkable instance: Two young ladies, the daughters of a baron, who had remained passively in the country, without promoting, or resisting the Revolution, were then engaged in a law-suit with their father, by which they demanded a maintenance, separate from him,
"he being either an Aristocrat, or a Neutralist, with whom they did not choose to reside."
They did not pretend to any other complaint, and, it was positively believed, had no other motive. Yet these ladies had been previously educated with the nicest care, by the most accomplished instructors, and, in fact, with more expence than was suitable to their father's income, having been intended for places at the Court. The children of the poorer classes were equally changed by education, and those of both sexes were proficients in all the Revolutionary songs and catechisms.
This conversation passed while we were floating through the vale of Ehrenbreitstein, where the river, bending round the plains of Coblentz, 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 Malterberg, the village of Engus, the fine electoral palace of Schonbornust, the neat town and palace of Neuwied, and the chateau of Friedrichstein, 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 twopence 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 cannot 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 Francis the Second lying at the foot of the tower of Drusus; their artillery 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 Jonniesstein; 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 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 riverscenery 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 surviving 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 Argendorff and the towns of Lintz and Rheinmagen, all exhibiting symptoms 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 accompanied 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 uniformity 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 undulating 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 other side of the river is the Benedictine abbey of Siegberg, appropriated 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. Accompanied 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 probably 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 former 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 military 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 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 having 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 dispeopled 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 wounded, 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 countenances 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 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 unavoidable 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 watermen 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 venerable and picturesque character. But, however thronged the city now was, the shore without was silent and almost deserted; the sentinels, watching at the gates and looking out from the ramparts, or a few women gliding beneath, wrapt in the nun-like scarf, so melancholy in its appearance and so generally worn at Cologne, were nearly the only persons seen.
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 merchants 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 produce 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 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, Merkenich, 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 resistance, 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 preserved, 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 forgotten 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 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 watchful 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 features 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, prevented 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 steersman 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 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 detained, 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 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.
TIMBER FLOATS ON THE RHINE.
THESE are formed chiefly at Andernach, but consist of the fellings of almost every German forest, which, by streams, or short land carriage, can be brought to the Rhine. Having passed the rocks of Bingen and the rapids of St. Goar in small detachments, the several rafts are compacted at some town not higher than Andernach, into one immense body, of which an idea may be formed from this list of dimensions.
The length is from 700 to 1000 feet; the breadth from 50 to 90; the depth, when manned with the whole crew, usually seven feet. The trees in the principal rafts are not less than 70 feet long, of which ten compose a rast.
On this sort of floating island, five hundred labourers of different classes are employed, maintained and lodged, during the whole voyage; and a little street of deal huts is built upon it for their reception. The captain's dwelling and the kitchen are distinguished from the other apartments by being somewhat better built.
The first rafts, laid down in this structure, are called the foundation, and are always either of oak, or sir-trees, bound together at their tops, and strengthened with firs, fastened upon them crossways by iron spikes. When this foundation has been carefully compacted, the other rafts are laid upon it, the trees of each being bound together in the same manner, and each
stratum
fastened to that beneath it. The surface is rendered even; storehouses and other apartments are raised; and the whole is again strengthened by large masts of oak.
Before the main body proceed several thin and narrow rafts, composed only of one floor of timbers, which, being held at a certain distance from the float by masts of oak, are used to give it direction and force, according to the efforts of the labourers upon them.
Behind it, are a great number of small boats, of which fifteen or sixteen, guided by seven men each, are laden with anchors and cables; others contain articles of light rigging, and some are used for messages from this populous and important fleet to the towns, which it passes. There are twelve sorts of cordage, each having a name used only by the float-masters; among the largest are cables of four hundred yards long and eleven inches diameter. Iron chains are also used in several parts of the structure.
The consumption of provisions on board such a float is estimated for each voyage at fifteen or twenty thousand pounds of fresh meat, between forty and fifty thousand pounds of bread, ten or fifteen thousand pounds of cheese, one thousand or fifteen hundred pounds of butter, eight hundred or one thousand pounds of dried meat, and five or six hundred tons of beer.
The apartments on the deck are, first, that of the pilot, which is near one of the magazines, and, opposite to it, that of the persons called masters of the float: another class, called masters of the valets, have also their apartment; near it is that of the valets, and then that of the sub-valets; after this are the cabins of the
tyrolois,
or last class of persons, employed in the float, of whom eighty or an hundred sleep upon straw in each, to the humber of more than four hundred in all. There is, lastly, one large eating-room, in which the greater part of this crew dine at the same time.
The pilot, who conducts the fleet from Andernach to Dusseldorff, quits it there, and another is engaged at the same salary, that is, five hundred florins, or 42 l. ; each has his sub-pilot, at nearly the same price. About twenty tolls are paid in the course of the voyage, the amount of which varies with the size of the fleet and the estimation of its value, in which latter respect the proprietors are so much subject to the caprice of customhouse officers, that the first signal of their intention to depart is to collect all these gentlemen from the neighbourhood, and to give them a grand dinner on board. After this, the float is sounded and measured, and their demands upon the owners settled.
On the morning of departure, every labourer takes his post, the rowers on their benches, the guides of the leading rafts on theirs, and each boat's crew in its own vessel. The eldest of the valetmasters then makes the tour of the whole float, examines the labourers, passes them in review, and dismisses those, who are unfit. He afterwards addresses them in a short speech; recommends regularity and alertness; and repeats the terms of their engagement, that each shall have five crowns and a half, besides provisions, for the ordinary voyage; that, in case of delay by accident, they shall work three days, gratis; but that, after that time, each shall be paid at the rate of twelve creitzers, about four pence, per day.
After this, the labourers have a repast, and then, each being at his post, the pilot, who stands on high near the rudder, takes off his hat and calls out,
"Let us all pray."
In an instant there is the happy spectacle of all these numbers on their knees, imploring a blessing on their undertaking.
The anchors, which were fastened on the shores, are now brought on board, the pilot gives a signal, and the rowers put the whole float in motion, while the crews of the several boats ply round it to facilitate the departure.
Dort in Holland is the destination of all these floats, the sale of one of which occupies several months, and frequently produces 350,000 florins, or more than 30,000 l.
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 thither 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 approach 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 northern extremity of the long and narrow dominions of Cologne, once so far connected with Holland, as that the Archbishop had jurisdiction over the Bishop of Holland, and the Chapter of Utrecht. But Philip the Second, before the States had resisted his plundering, obtained 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 commencement 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 dismissed 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 vessels to be employed on the Rhine, and has somewhat of the fresh 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"—
"Unburied remain,
Inglorious on the plain."
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:
Dis ist die Deutsche Burg, vor langst gar hochgeehrt
Von vielen König und auch Kaiserlichen Kronen:
Der schöne Musenthron, wo kluge Leute wohnen;
Und wo die Kausmannschast so manchen Bürger nährt
This is the German town, that's fam'd so long
By throned Kings, and gentle Muses' song;
Where learned folks live well on princely pay,
And commerce makes so many Burghers gay.
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 History; 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 military 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 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 Chapter 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 Furstemberg, 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 disappointment, as to the last respect, painful, for even the little information we had gained seemed to be worth the labour of acquiring it.
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 indistinct, 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 exercises 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 community; 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 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 solution for this difference of effects from apparently similar causes is, that the greater extent of his territory, as well as the better opportunities 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. Germany, 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 and household establishments; and though, in an advanced state of society, or in opulent nations, what is called patronage is seldom necessary, 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 liberality of the Prince, or the more independent protection of beneficed institutions, was necessary to the existence of curiosity and knowledge. 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 intellectual accomplishment, as the claim to notice from the court; and the improvement of mind circulated, by more general encouragement, 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 oppressions, 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 Calcar 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 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 covetousness, nothing but some experience of Germany is necessary to make them rejoice in a return to the neatness, the civility, the comforts, 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 opportunities of gain, and the habit of comparing them, sharpen intellects, which might otherwise never be exercised. In a commercial country, the humblest persons have opportunities of profiting by their qualifications; they are, therefore, in some degree, prepared for better 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 exchanged for the civil
Yaw well, Mynheer,
of the Dutch. The town is built chiefly of brick, like those in Holland; the streets light; the 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 emigrants 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 Friburg and Holland.
In the morning, having no disgust to impel us, we were somewhat tardy in embarking; and the boatmen, who had found out the way of reviving our impatience, talked of the great distance of Holland, till they had us on board. Five or six well-looking villages presently appear after leaving Rees, the next port to which is Emmerick, 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 excellence, 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 something more than entreaty, obtained his promise, that they should be spared. In spite of this promise, of the remonstrances of the inhabitants, 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 considered his oath only as a convenient delusion for preventing the resistance 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 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 ourselves taking leave of the Rhine, or losing the stream, that had presented 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 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 boatmen, 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 prospect-house at Nimeguen, came in sight; then the bright pinnacles of the public buildings, and the high, turf-coloured angles of the fortifications. 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 Duisbourg in the north to Cleves and Guelders in the south, with an eastern 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 Flanders. 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 Nimeguen, that Prince Cobourg was re-advancing to Brussels, and these societies had probably their misfortunes increased by the artifices 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.
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 beginning 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 symptoms 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 fortifications, and was not inferior in neatness to other Dutch towns, at least 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 Sunday; 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. The inhabitants are advanced enough in prosperity and intelligent curiosity to have two
Sociétés,
where they meet to read new publications; 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 fortifications. This was during the ineffectual siege of three weeks, in which Mendoza lost two thousand men, Maurice having then a constant 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 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 defensive 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 Fourteenth, in the attempt, which Charles the Second's wicked sister concerted 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, 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.
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 putting 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 hostilities. 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 politician, capable of an inflammatory declamation, thinks it wisdom to ridicule.
We left Bommel at seven in the morning, in a stout, decked seaboat, well rigged, and, as appeared, very dextrously navigated. The wind was directly contrary, and there are sometimes islands, sometimes 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 lamentable 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 neglected, 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, surrounded by some modern works, which render it one of the defences 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 Louvenstein 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 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 thousand stand of arms were found to have been collected there for him. Our boat passed before one quarter, in which the houses rise immediately 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 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 diminution 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 curiosity, 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 Zuyder Zee, then across it by sailing barges, and then again by the canals as far as Groningen, whither the French would certainly not penetrate. So valuable was water thought in Holland, not only as a means 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 Rotterdam, 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 Helvoetsluys, 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 degree, 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 endeavoured 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 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 Harwich, 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 observation. 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 cargoes 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 clothing is mentioned in other towns as the representation of the antient national dress, common throughout all the provinces two centuries 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 substantial 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 straining 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 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 melancholy 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, derived 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 permitted 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.
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 carried 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, therefore, 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 massacres, 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; 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 uncommon grandeur among clouds of purple, red and gold, that, mingling with the serene azure of the upper sky, composed a richness and harmony of colouring which we never saw surpassed. It was most interesting 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 perceptible; 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 England; the lighthouse on the South-Foreland appeared like a dawning 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 meridian, 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 perceive a long tract of the coast of France, like a dark streak of vapour hovering in the south, and were somewhat alarmed on finding ourselves 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 proceeded, Calais cliffs, at a considerable distance westward of the town, lost their aërial blue, and shewed an high front of chalky precipice, 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 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 eternal 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 hinting of different modes of life and a new world, all these circumstances formed a scene of pre-eminent combination, and led to interesting reflection.
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 monotonous 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 substantial farms, with neat villages, the comfort of the country. English 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 Hardwick, 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 summits 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,
The deep embowering shades, that veil Elfrida;"
and those of Hardwick once veiled a form as lovely as the ideal 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 mountains of the Peak. Immediately to the left of the present residence, some ruined features of the antient one, enwreathed with the rich drapery of ivy, give an interest to the scene, which the later, but more historical structure heightens and prolongs. We followed, not without emotion, the walk, which Mary had so often trodden, to the folding 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.
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 memorials of her imprisonment, the bed, tapestry and chairs having been worked by herself. This tapestry is richly embossed with emblematic 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:
"There is only this: To fear God and keep his Commandments."
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 extensive 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.
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 preservation. 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 curtains of gold tissue, but in so tattered a condition, that its orginal texture can scarcely be perceived. This and the chairs, which accompany it, are supposed to have been much earlier than Mary's time.
A short passage leads from the state apartment to her own chamber, 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 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 residence 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 portrait of Lady Jane Gray, meek and fair, before a harpsichord, on which psalm-book is opened; at the bottom of the gallery, Elizabeth, 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, from the north-west brow of Brampton Moor, the vast hills of Derbyshire 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 involves in smoke a figure, who, standing on the summit, looks the Witch of the Dale, on an edge of her cauldron, watching the workings 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 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 neighbouring 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 comprehensive guilt of a national participation in robbery, cruelty and murder.
From Manchester to Lancaster the road leads through a pleasant 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, spreading 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 amphitheatre formed by nearly all the mountains of the Lakes; an exhibition 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 Channel 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 latter 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 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 Lancaster on the east, whence they decline into the low and uninteresting 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 mountain, 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 gravestone, 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, which joins the modern mansion of white stone, and gives it a singular 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 meadows of the most vivid green and dark woods, with white cottages and villages peeping from among them, mingle with surprising richness, and undulate from either bank of the Lune to the feet of hills. Ingleborough, rising from elegantly swelling ground, overlooked 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- 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 becoming more distinct, as we advanced. Rock and grey crags looked out from the heath, on every side; but its form on each was very different. 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
Mrs. Barbauld.
,"
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 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 contracting 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, foaming 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 witnessing, at the first inn we reached, the abundance of the country and the goodwill of the people. In times, when the prices of necessary 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 contributing to independence of mind.
Here we had an early and, as it afterwards appeared, a very exaggerated 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 the flowness of our progress, jostling amongst coal carts, for ten miles of rugged ground. The views over the Westmoreland mountains were, however, not entirely obscured; their vast ridges were visible in the horizon to the north and west, line over line, frequently in five or six ranges. Sometimes the intersecting mountains opened to others beyond, that fell in deep and abrupt precipices, 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 morning, 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
Brocanonacio,
or not. The manufacture of cloth, which our statute books 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, however, no shades of
"Kendal green,"
or, indeed, any but bright scarlet.
The church is remarkable for three chapels, memorials of the antient dignity of three neighbouring families, the Bellinghams, Stricklands 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 inscription, almost obliterated, in which the following words may yet be traced:
"Dame Thomasim Thornburgh
Wiffe of Sir William Thornburgh Knyght
Daughter of Sir Robert Bellingham
Gentle Knyght: the ellventhe of August
On thousand fyue hundreth eightie too."
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 reminded 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 inscription, 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 ye 7 of Maye Ao dni 1577.
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 endeavoured 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 opening 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, opening 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 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 mountain, 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
"A vale appear'd below, a deep retir'd abode,"
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 cottages scattered among groves, enclosed by dark fells, that rose steeply, yet gracefully, and, at their summits, bent forward in masses of shattered 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 character 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 mountains 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 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 precipices, 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 melancholy 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 torrents; 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 footsteps 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 retrospective 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 fantastic 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 with clouds, while Fancy, awed by the gloom, imaged the genius 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 ourselves 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 Kidstowpike; 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 situation 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 overtopped 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 Kidstowpike; 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 descended 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 district, 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 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, perhaps, 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 independent 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 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 integrity, 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 beneficed 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 resolution; 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 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, perhaps because it is inferiour in size to the others, but which is distinguished 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 opposite 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 upon the first expanse of the lake. Its eastern shore, rising in a tremendous ridge of rocks, darkened with wood to the summit, appears to terminate in Wallow-crag, a promontory of towering height, beyond which the lake winds from view. The finely broken mountains 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 monstrous 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 Martindale, spoken by the country people Mardale. Among the fells of this dark prospect are Lathale, Wilter-crag, Castle crag and Riggindale, 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 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 Parsonage, 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 promontory of Wallow-crag pushed its base into the lake, where a peninsula 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.
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 independence, 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 honeysuckles, 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 display 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, and heard the next day how gladly he would have rendered any civilities 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 Parsonage, 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 primrose, 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 luxuriantly down their sides into the valley; and nearer, Bamptongrange 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.
One of the fells we had just crossed is called Blanarasa, at the summit 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 commemorate 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 gloomily 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 retirement, 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, beautiful, romantic and sublime. At the entrance of the village, the Lowther and a nameless rivulet, that runs from Hawswater, join their waters; both streams were now sunk in their beds; but in winter they sometimes contend for the conquest and ravage of the neighbouring 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 discovered 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 varieties 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 offensive 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 meadows, that slope into the valley, and sometimes appear in gleams among the dark thickets. The house, of white stone with red window-cases, embosomed among the woods, has nothing in its appearance 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, 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 landscape 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 perhaps 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 mountains 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, meandering 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 venerable 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 supernatural, though according in gloom and sublimity with the severe features it involved.
Further on, the mountains began to unfold themselves; their outlines, broken, abrupt and intersecting each other in innumerable directions, 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 almost 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 mountains, 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-common, whence we had various views of the first reach, its scenery appearing 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 sparingly 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, sometimes 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 measurements, 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 accompaniments; 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 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 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 sublime; 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 distance to great breadth, once more loses itself beyond the enormous pile of rock called Place-fell, opposite to which the shore, seeming to close upon all further progress, is bounded by two promontories covered 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 shadows 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 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 passing 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, reposing 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 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 eminences, 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 opposite 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 Cumberland; 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. 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 prettinesses, that can scarcely be tolerated by the grandeur of its character. The tremendous mountains, which scowl over the gorge of Patterdale; the cliffs, massy, broken and overlooked by a multitude 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 predominating 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. This is an inn, and, perhaps, the principal one, as to accommodation; but, though its situation, on a spot which on each side commands the lake, is very fine, it is not comparable, in point of wildness 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 necessarily occur, must appear tautologous, on paper, though their archetypes 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 experienced, 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 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 seldom 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 emigrations 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 commencement 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 Patterdale; 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 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 perspective. 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. Immediately 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 beautiful 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. 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 Hawswater, darkened the front of Swarth-fell and several others, that impend over the first and second reach of Ullswater. Of the mountains, which tower above the glen of Patterdale, the highest are Harter'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."
A large hawk, sailing proudly in the air, and wheeling among the stormy clouds, superior to the shock of the gust, was the only animated 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 Patterdale, 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 cheerfulness, 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,
—"be my retreat
Between the groaning forest and the shore,
Beat by the boundless multitude of waves!"
it was pleasant to add,
"Where ruddy fire and beaming tapers join
To cheer the gloom."
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 bottom. 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 conjectures, concerning the use of this rude and certainly very antient monument. Those not qualified to propose decisions in this respect 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 spectators, at a time when memory and tradition were the only preservatives 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 formerly a bird painted on the front. It is perched among woods, on the brow of a steep, but not lofty hill, and commands enchanting 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. Wallace, amidst lawns of incomparable verdure and luxuriant woods falling from the heights; further still, the mountain, town and beacon 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, appeared between groves of fir, beach, oak and ash, amidst the broken 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 wellcertified antiquity and for the hoary masses it now exhibits, is rendered 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 Albinois. 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 marrying 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 sufficiently 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 cruelties, by which their first lords revenged upon others the wretchedness 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 engines 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 corbells, which probably once supported them, now prop some tufts of antient thorn, that have roots in their fractures.
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 indifference 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 trumpets and horses of James the First, when he visited the Earl of Cumberland, 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 contained 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 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 staircase, 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 serpents 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 distance from the main building, was formerly connected with it, shews the walls of many small chambers, with reliques of the passages and stairs, that led to them. But, perhaps, the only picturesque feature of the castle is the third detachment; a small tower finely shattered, 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 northeast, 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 rounding a hill on the opposite bank, and, beyond, a wide extent of low land. To the south, swelled the upland boundaries of Bamptonvale, 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 further, 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 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 appearance 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 sufferer persevering from vengeance.
THE TOWN AND BEACON OF PENRITH.
HAVING pursued the road one mile further, for the purpose of visiting the tender memorial of pious affection, so often described under the name of Countess' Pillar, we returned to Emontbridge, and from thence reached Penrith, pronounced Peyrith, the most southern town of Cumberland. So far off as the head of Ullswater, 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 disappointed 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 mountain, 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 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 numerous 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—
"Ubi manu agitur, modestia et probitas nomina superioris sunt."
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 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 Stainmorehills 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, westward 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 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 appearance, 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 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 Parliament 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 kingdom is so high, that the merit of independence, a merit and a happiness 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 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 origin 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, Saddleback, 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 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, followed by gleaming lights. Tempestuous gusts alone broke the 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 Shakespeare, would people with witches, and shew them at their incantations, 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 towards 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 appeared most elegantly in the mountain scene, under the crags, or sipping at the clear stream, that gushed from the rocks, and wound 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 Threlkeld, 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, without wood, and, with much that is grand, has little beautiful, till near its conclusion; where, more fertile and still more wild, it divides into three narrower vallies, two of which disclose scenes of such sublime severity as even our long view of Saddleback had not prepared 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 commanded 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 disturbs 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."
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 seldomer 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 attitude, shape and colouring are very different, though its alpine terminations are always visible.
Threlkeld itself is a small village, about thirteen miles from Penrith, 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 obtained; but had the satisfaction, which was, indeed, general in these regions, of observing the good intentions, amounting almost to kindness, of the 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 favourable 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 servants. Their families have thus no opportunities of temporary insight 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 before persons of one class, that by the authority of an apparent connection 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, 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 ignorance 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 remembrance 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 temper flies with the simplicity of the mind. There is, perhaps, not a more odious prospect of human society, than where an ostentatious, manoeuvring and corrupted peasantry, taking those, who induce them to crimes, for the models of their morality, mimic the vices, to which they were not born, and attempt the coarse covering 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 assuaging 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 is completed by those of Derwentwater, in the west, and by the precipices 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—
—"rites of such strange potency
As, done in open day, would dim the sun,
Tho' thron'd in noontide brightness."
CARACTACUS.
Here, too, the Bards,
"Rob'd in their flowing vests of innocent white,
Descend, with harps, that glitter to the moon,
Hymning immortal strains. The spirits of air,
Of earth, of water, nay of heav'n itself,
Do listen to their lay; and oft, 'tis said,
In visible shapes, dance they a magic round
To the high minstrelsy."
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 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 Derwentwater 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 Derwentwater, and soon after entered Keswick, a small place of stone houses, lying at the foot of Castle Rigg, near Skiddaw, and about a quarter 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. Expectation 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 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 peculiar 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 beyond 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 the whole picture, and so even and brilliantly translucent is its surface, 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 twelfthcake.
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 Hawswater, of dark brown rock, loosely impending; nearer still, Castlehill, 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 Crowpark, 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.
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 imagination 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 simplicity; 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 Derwentwater is abundant subject for admiration, though not of so high a character as that, which attends Ullswater. The soft undulations 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 wildness 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 gray hooded Even,
Like a sad votarist, in Palmer's weed,
Rose from the hindmost wheels of Phoebus' wain."
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
"dazzling spells into the air,
Of power to cheat the eye with blear illusion
And give it false presentments."
Nay more, to believe
"All the sage poets, taught by th' heavenly muse
Storied of old, in high immortal verse,
Of dire chimaeras and enchanted isles;"
and to fancy we hear from among the woody cliffs, near the shore,
"the sound
Of riot and ill manag'd merriment,"
succeeded by such strains as oft
"in pleasing slumbers lull the sense,
And, in sweet madness, rob it of itself."
SKIDDAW.
ON the following morning, having engaged a guide, and with horses accustomed to the labour, we began to ascend this tremendous mountain by a way, which makes the summit five miles from Keswick. Passing through bowery lanes, luxuriant with mountain 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, 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 wellwooded rocks, and, on the other, by Skiddaw.
Soon after, we rose above the steeps, which had concealed Derwentwater, 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 direction. 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 individually great, but so from accumulation; a scenery to give ideas of the breaking up of a world. Other precipices soon hid it again, but Bassenthwaite continued to spread immediately below us, till we turned 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 bottom, 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 prevailing hue. Not a tree, or bush appeared on Skiddaw, nor even a stone wall any where broke the simple greatness of its lines. Sometimes, 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 of their course, which, hurrying the sight with them into the abyss, act, as it were, in sympathy upon the nerves, and, to save ourselves 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, dreadfully 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 hillock 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 increase 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 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 wonder, 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 appearance 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 Bassenthwaite, 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 sky. The prospects below, each of which had been before considered 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.
Nearer than the county of Durham, stretched the ridge of Crossfell, and an indistinct multitude of the Westmoreland and Yorkshire 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 Derwentwater, the lake itself remaining still concealed in their deep rocky bosom. Southward and westward, the whole prospect was a
"turbulent 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 beyond 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 mountains, 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 narrow 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 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 separated 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
"the precipitation might down stretch
Below the beam of sight."
Under the lee of an heaped up pile of slates, formed by the customary 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
'statesman;'
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 spacious 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 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 seldom 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 country, that spreads towards Whitehaven; but the road soon immerges 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 elegance, 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 margin 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 only a line of trees, issuing far into the lake. But the shores of Bassenthwaite, 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 secured; 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.
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 Lowdore, 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 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 meadows 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 mountain, 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 summits, 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 Borrowdale, 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 possible 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 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 serpentized 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 children, 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 England. Iron, slate, and free stone of various kinds, are also the treasures 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 Bassenthwaite, its mountains softening away in the perspective, and terminating, on the west, in the sister woods of Wythorp-brows, extends from the eye; and, immediately beneath, the northern end of Derwentwater, 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 prospect 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 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 summits, and perpetually occur. We often stopped to listen to their hollow sounds amidst the solitary greatness of the scene, and to watch their headlong fall down the rocky chasms, their white foam and silver 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 together; 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, starting 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.
Beyond Dunmail Rays, one of the grand passes from Cumberland into Westmoreland, Helm-crag rears its crest, a strange fantastic summit, 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 overspread 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 Helmcrag 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, mingling among cliffs above the narrow lake, which winds through a 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 Rydalhall, 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 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 mountain, 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 gradually 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 expansive lake; then, quitting the bank, it ascends gradual eminences, that look upon the vast plain of water, and rise amidst the richest landscapes of its shores. The manners of the people would have sufficiently informed us that Windermere is the lake most frequented; 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 insignificance, 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 multitude of finely alpine mountains, retiring obliquely in the perspective, among which Langdale-pikes, Hardknot and Wry-nose, bearing their bold, pointed promontories aloft, are pre-eminent. The colouring of these mountains, which are some of the grandest of Cumberland 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 upwards, would seem to ascend in volumes of smoke from their summits; 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 majesty from a height above Culgarth, a seat of the Bishop of Landaff; while, to the south, the lake after sweeping about four miles gradually 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 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 remote 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 commanding the whole lake, and the other within a recess of the shore, nearly opposite the large island. The winding banks of Windermere 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, intermingled with wood, lawn and shrubberies, embellishes, without decreasing 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 amphitheatre. 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, which the breadth of the channel had denied them; and their darkness 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 luxuriant 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 country 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 mountains, 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 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 expectation 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 inferior to Ullswater in greatness, both of water and rocks; for, though it charms and elevates, it does not display such features and circumstances 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, 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 margin; 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 pleasure-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 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 parsonage on an eminence commanding the whole valley. Steep hills rise over them, and, more distant, the tall heads of the Conistonfells, 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 subscriptions, 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 performed divine service and other parochial duties in the neighbourhood."
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 mountains 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- 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 somewhat of the sublime attitudes and dark majesty of Ullswater. A range of lower rocks, nearer to the eye, exhibited a very peculiar and grotesque 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 northern 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-summits. 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, 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 enthusiasm of the voyager, while evening stole upon the scene, is now contrasted 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 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 attitudes 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 entirely covered with coppice-wood. Two of these, rising over the 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 hollytree to receive from his hand the young shoots cropped for them
West's "Antiquities of Furness."
. Whenever the woods are felled, which is too frequently done, to supply fuel for the neighbouring furnaces, the holly is still held sacred to the flocks of these mountains.
Soon after passing the island, the road enters the village of Nibthwaite, 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, embosomed in ancient woods, the chimnies and pointed roof of a gray mansion look out most interestingly. The woods open partially 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 disappearing 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 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 discern 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 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 grandeur 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 Bekangsgill, 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 Yorkshire.
The windings of the glen conceal these venerable ruins, till they are closely approached, and the bye road, that conducted us, is margined 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 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 beyond, 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 grandeur 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 solitary grace of the principal object and to prolong the luxurious melancholy, which the view of it inspires. We made our way among 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 ornamented, 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.
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
"Antiquities of Furness."
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 beautiful, 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 venerable 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 which such processions were wont to pass from the cloisters to perform 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 hundred and thirty-four feet long and one hundred and two feet wide, little vestige now appears, except the foundation of a range of cloisters, that formed its western boundary, and under the shade of which the monks on days of high solemnity passed in their customary procession 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 distinguishable 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 portal, are of enormous thickness, but, here and there, a chasm discloses the stair-cases, that wind within them to chambers above. The schoolroom 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 distinguishable 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 magnificent 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 exercises and in copying or illuminating manuscripts. An unbroken silence was observed, except when, after dinner, they withdrew 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 permitted 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, and a rochet
"Antiquities of Furness."
. 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 Dalton, 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 Stephen to the disposal of my lord abbot! The monks also could be arraigned, for whatever crime, only by him.
"The military establishment 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 without horse and harness
Ibid.
."
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 watchtower, raised by the society for their further security. It commands extensive views over Low Furness and the bay of the sea immediately beneath; looking forward to the town and castle of Lancaster, 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 magnificence of such a prospect, to which the monks, emerging from their concealed cells below, occasionally resorted to sooth the asperities, 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 sometimes 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, shadowing the opposite horizon of the channel.
The sum total of all rents belonging to the Abbey immediately before the dissolution was 946l. 2s. 10d. collected from Lancashire, Cumberland, and even from the Isle of Man; a sum, which considering the value of money at that period; and the woods, meadows, pastures, and sisheries, retained by the society in their own hands; the quantity of provisions for domestic use brought by the tenants instead 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 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 desolate 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 desolation of the sands, on the left, was animated only by some horsemen 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 mountains 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 station on a sand near the first ford, where he remains to conduct passengers 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 midnights of winter, and is scorched on the shadeless sands, under the 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, however, 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 payment 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 morning tide. The ford is not thought dangerous, though the sands frequently shift, for the guide regularly tries for, and ascertains, the proper 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 beyond 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 Ulverston; 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 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.
FINIS.