This is a small town, near the Rhine, without much appearance of
prosperity, but neater than most of the others around it. Several
narrow streets open into a wide and pleasant market-place, in the
centre of which an old but flourishing elm has its branches carefully
extended by a circular railing, to form an arbour over benches. A
cathedral, that proves the town to have been once more considerable,
is on the north side of this place; a fine building, which, shewn by
the moon of a summer midnight, when only the bell of the adjoining
convent calling the monks to prayers, and the waving of the aged tree,
were to be heard, presented a scene before the windows of our inn, that
fully recompensed for its want of accommodation.
There were also humbler reasons towards contentment; for the people of
the house were extremely desirous to afford it; and the landlord was an
orator in French, of which and his address he was pleasantly vain. He
received us with an air of humour, mingled with his complaisance, and
hoped, that, "as _Monsieur_ was _Anglois_, he should surprise him with
his _vin extraordinaire_, all the Rhenish wine being adulterated by the
Dutch, before they sent it to England. 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.