LETTER L.
SIR,Amsterdam, Nov. 29, 1732.
Instead of excusing myself for my late Silence, I confess to you, that had it not been for the obliging Reproaches you make me upon that Account, I should not have entertained you with any more of my Travels. Not that I thought Holland did not deserve your Attention as much as any other Country in the World, but
because, as I found I had nothing new to send you, I thought it best not to surfeit you with the Repetition of what others before me have said much better. But as you seem to think these Arguments not sufficient, I will endeavour to satisfy you in the best manner I can; and you are a Gentleman of too good Sense to expect more.
From Cleves I went to Nimeguen, a Town in the Province of Guelderland, and the Bulwark of the Seven United Provinces, towards the Dominions of Prussia; from which ’tis but two Leagues distant. This Place stands on the Side of a Hill on the Banks of the Vahal, a River which comes out of the Rhine, and falls into the Maese, near the Town of Dort or Dordrecht. The French, after eight Days Siege, took it in 1672, at the Time when the Republic seem’d ready to sink under the Weight of their Arms. Since that Time it has been very much fortify’d; so that ’tis now a Place of Consequence. This Town is famous for the Peace which was sign’d here in 1678, between France and the States General; and in the next Year, between the Emperor, Spain, the Princes of Germany, and France. It has no remarkable Edifice. From one of its Bastions, which is much higher than the rest of the Fortifications, there’s a Prospect of a great Tract of Country beyond the Vahal; which is one of the finest Views in the World, and the most agreeable Sight that Nimeguen affords.
After having crossed the Vahal over a flying Bridge, I travelled four or five Leagues upon a very narrow crooked Dike, which in rainy Weather is very much broke. It seems as if it was made for the Destruction both of Coaches and Passengers; for if the Coachman be ever so little aukward, or the Horses skittish, a Man is in Danger of breaking his Neck, the rather, because the
common Caravans, or Stage-Coaches in Holland, are so made, that a little Matter turns ’em topsy-turvy; so that one would imagine the Inventor of ’em studied to contrive a Vehicle, the most uneasy, and the most dangerous, that could be to the Lives of Mankind. Suppose to yourself, a cursed high Waggon, which you get up to by an Iron Step, placed between the wheels, which are hardly two Feet from one another. The Body of the Caravan is covered with Hoops, in Form of a Cradle, spread over with an Oil-cloth, and so low, that the least Shock jolts one’s Head against the Roof. This infernal Machine, invented, no doubt, for the Entrance of Proserpine into Hell, instead of a Thill, has a Hook, by which the Coachman, who is commonly drunk, guides the Horses, by placing one Foot on it, while be rests the other against the Crupper of one of his Horses, which almost touch the Caravan. No less than eight People are stow’d in these horrible Break-necks, which, to compleat the Abomination, makes such a Rattle as is perfectly stunning to all the Passengers.
’Twas in one of these pretty Stage-Coaches that I came very much jaded to Rhenen, a little Town on an Arm of the Rhine, which has for a long time been the Residence of the Family of the unfortunate Frederic Elector Palatine, who was chose King of Bohemia. That Prince caused a House to be built there, which now belongs to the King of Great Britain, as Heir to the Electress Sophia his Grandmother, the Daughter of the said Frederic, by Elizabeth Princess of England; but all the Use which the King makes of this House, is for the Accommodation of his Equipage in his Journies to and from Hanover.
The Road from Rhenen to Utrecbt is like the Sands of Libya; I mean that which the Caravans