February 13th.—The morning began most inauspiciously. It rained very hard, and blew with equal violence. I thought of the poor courier, who would be prevented by it from passing the Dinckel. I set out once more at eight o'clock from Rheine in this dismal weather and without glasses, not any being procurable at the place. It was, indeed, a terrifying view on all sides, and resembled a deluge or inundation. I recommended myself to God, and comforted myself by the thought that I undertook the journey in the service of my royal mistress. That I was not repeatedly overturned was almost a miracle; and had I been so in the great pieces of standing water through which I passed, the consequences might have been of the worst sort. I crossed the little river Aá, which was likewise swollen by the rain to a considerable size. I got at one o'clock to Ippenburen; from this place I had only eighteen miles to Osnabrück, but the road was so horribly bad that all I had yet seen sunk before it. A peasant who accompanied us on foot about four miles from Ippenburen supported the carriage at different places with his hands, or we must have been overset. The torrents of rain which had fallen made the highway so soft that the wheels sank up to the axletrees at every step. There were great holes made in the middle of the road large enough to take a man and horse. In other places it was so rough, I expected each moment that the axletrees, wheels, or brancards must go to pieces. We crossed two very dangerous waters by moonlight, in one of which a single inch more on one side must have precipitated us into a river, where we should, I think, have been both inevitably drowned. How we escaped and got safe to Osnabrück I do not know. In the bitterness of my heart, tired with such incessantly-repeated dangers and vexations, I cursed the errand, and swore that I would never again undertake a journey through Westphalia in the winter, let the inducement be what it would; but this was only momentary, and now I am ready, at my sovereign's command, to return through all if it should be necessary. 'Twas near ten o'clock at night when I reached Osnabrück, to my no small comfort. I was fatigued and sore with the continued shaking of the carriage; I wanted glasses to my chaise; I wanted repose; so I determined to stay the night.
The landlord of the inn, after congratulating me on my safe arrival, implored me not to attempt to pass the river Weser at Stolzenau, which is the straight road to Hanover, but rather to go round ten miles by Minden, where there is a bridge across it. He showed me a letter he had just received from there, which said that the Weser was swollen to a prodigious size; that twenty-two dead bodies had been taken up at the bridge, floating on the water; that the danger of passing in a boat was extreme, and the inundation beyond any ever remembered. This induced me, though reluctantly, to take his advice as the safest, or at least the most certain in every point of view.
About one o'clock in the afternoon I left Osnabrück, and arrived at Boomele, which is fifteen miles distant, at six. The road was, if possible, yet worse than all I had hitherto seen or passed, but of a different kind, in some measure. There were no dangerous waters or rivers; but such numbers of stones, and of so prodigious a size, that it appeared astonishing in the highest degree that the carriage was not totally demolished by them. I started at eight for Diepenau, which is twenty English miles, but did not arrive there till half-past five the next morning. I had here occasion for all my courage to support me. The postmaster obliged me to take six horses, and they were indeed most necessary. The country was all covered with water like a lake; and I passed through a horse-pond, where I expected every instant to be overset, and in which the horses were almost up to their shoulders. At length we came to two vast hollows, not less than four-and-twenty feet deep, and in which a great quantity of water had collected. Here I got out, as did my servant. The postilions carried us on their shoulders through it, the carriage followed, but I never expected to see it come out, at least, without being broken to pieces. It did get through, notwithstanding, to my astonishment; yet, at many other places I dreaded every instant to be overturned at the hazard of my life. Still, I proceeded, encouraged by the moon, which shone very brightly, and was indeed my protectress amid so many and so repeated dangers. Yet the continued anxiety of mind which prevented me from closing my eyes, and the violent exercise of the body in such horrid roads—if roads they could with propriety be called—at length wearied and fatigued me beyond belief. I wished to be at the end of my journey. I wished I had never undertaken it; I almost lost that animating principle, that enthusiasm and hope, which had borne me up and made me with joy devote myself to every untoward accident. In a word, I felt that I could brave death, but not mental and corporeal agitation unusually continued. But what could I do? I had passed the Rubicon.
Wednesday, February 15th.—In this frame of mind, after waiting from five till three for horses at Diepenau, I again got into the carriage; where to go, however, I really knew not. There were only three roads to choose. If I went to Minden, which was only ten miles distant, I could indeed get there and pass the Weser by the bridge; but then they were unanimously agreed that the road from Minden to Hanover was not practicable, or to be attempted. I would have gone north to Nienburg, and have passed the Weser by that bridge, but it was impossible; the Weser had inundated the road, overflowed the bridge, left holes big enough to hold a house in the highway; and there were at this time more than two hundred carts belonging to the peasants which could not get out of the town. The last resource was to go on straight to Stolzenau, and attempt, at all events, to cross by boat to Leese on the eastern side. I embraced this last proposal in consequence of the courier's advice, and followed his waggons. While I was meditating on so many vexatious circumstances, and going slowly along the pavé in the village of Diepenau, unsuspicious at that moment of any immediate accident or danger, the postilion turned the carriage short round a corner and flung it into a deep ditch. By a good fortune, however, which never totally abandoned me, the chaise just being in equilibrium, and a peasant running up came just at the instant it was tumbling over, and supported it with the greatest difficulty with his hands till more assistance arrived.
I must own, I thought myself lost, and do assuredly believe that, if the chaise had fallen over, the violence must have broken it in pieces, and both myself and my valet would in all probability have been cut most miserably, or been possibly killed on the spot. I jumped out of the carriage the instant I could. I drew my hanger, and, in the transports of my resentment, I should most assuredly have made the postilion remember, as long as he lived, his carelessness; but the fellow was gone far beyond my reach long even before I could get out. The villagers helped out the chaise, and happily no material injury was done it. This provoking accident filled up the measure of my vexations. To have my life and limbs every moment in extreme danger—to suffer by roads, by villany, by heedlessness, by water, by a train of obstacles which increased instead of diminishing—the river Weser before me, and yet to be passed—I lost all patience, I believe I shed tears of anger and sorrow. "In the name of Heaven!" I said to myself, "am I destined to perish in one of these confounded ditches? And is this message, for which I so eagerly wished, to be the last I shall ever carry?"
I trembled as I once more entered the carriage, which I began to think was no other than my coffin. Another postilion mounted, and I fairly told him that if he overset me I would put him to death on the spot, whatever consequences might ensue. I abandoned myself to fortune; worn and oppressed by such continued exertions, my senses sank under it, and though in momentary expectation of being again overturned, I yet fell asleep for a few minutes. I arrived safe, notwithstanding, at Stolzenau, and walked down, accompanied by the courier, to view the Weser. What a sight! it was more than a mile and a half wide, and ran with vast rapidity. The meadows, the very hedges all under water, and extending quite to the village of Leese on the other side. I was determined, if I died, to attempt the passage. I agreed instantly with some boatmen to take me and my carriage over in a boat. They would not go that night, but agreed to carry me to-morrow morning at six o'clock. So I shall see some end to my misadventures. I write this from Stolzenau. The courier left all his waggons, for it was totally impossible to get them over in any manner, and went away with his letters only to Hanover in a small boat. I wrote to Baron von Seckendorf by him, telling him where I was, and my resolution, my fixed determination, at all events, to cross to-morrow, for I preferred anything to remaining in a vile inn, in a horrid village, with the Weser in full view. At this moment my mind has somewhat recovered, and I am calm and tranquil—yet some termination I will see to these cursed disasters. And now for some rest. Sleep will, I doubt not, be the kindest friend and restorer to me in nature.
February 16.—Why should I quarrel so with fortune? why complain, when as yet she smiles upon me? True, the roads are terrible, and the dangers numerous beyond belief; but am I not already past the worst, and hastening to a queen? This reflection ought to be alone sufficient in every situation.
I got into my carriage, which was placed in a little boat, at about seven in the morning, and, leaving Stolzenau, in about an hour and a half I reached the opposite dry land, and set my foot again on shore. I passed through meadows and fields, where the tops of the hedges and the trees began to appear above the surface of the water for nearly a mile, perhaps more. The inundation was amazingly extensive, and reminded me of Deucalion's deluge. It cost me, I think, about a ducat to cross over from Stolzenau. The water reached to about a quarter of a mile from Leese, where the post is situate. I proceeded, as soon as I had drunk my coffee, for Hanover, and got to Hazelberg, which is twelve miles from Leese, at about three in the afternoon. The weather was beautiful, but the road tremendous. I know not by what continued series of fortunate chances we were not upset. I continued my journey, and arrived safe at Hanover at about ten at night. This part of the Electorate, from the Weser to Hanover, is the most beautiful I have seen, and finely cultivated; but of all the roads conceivable, none ever, I believe, exceeded this in badness. I drove in continual danger of my life, and, really, several times, in the deep waters through which I passed, prepared myself for instant death.