On the
opposite bank of the Thames was Isleworth, a spot that seemed to be
distinguished by some elegant gentlemen's country-seats and gardens.
Here I was obliged to ferry the river in order to get into the
Oxford Road, which also leads to Windsor.
When I was on the other side of the water, I came to a house and
asked a man who was standing at the door if I was on the right road
to Oxford. "Yes," said he, "but you want a carriage to carry you
thither." When I answered him that I intended walking it, he looked
at me significantly, shook his head, and went into the house again.
I was now on the road to Oxford. It is a charming fine broad road,
and I met on it carriages without number, which, however, on account
of the heat, occasioned a dust that was extremely troublesome and
disagreeable. The fine green hedges, which border the roads in
England, contribute greatly to render them pleasant. This was the
case in the road I now travelled, for when I was tired I sat down in
the shade under one of these hedges and read Milton. But this
relief was soon rendered disagreeable to me, for those who rode or
drove past me, stared at me with astonishment, and made many
significant gestures as if they thought my head deranged; so
singular must it needs have appeared to them to see a man sitting
along the side of a public road and reading. I therefore found
myself obliged, when I wished to rest myself and read, to look out
for a retired spot in some by-lane or crossroad.
When I again walked, many of the coachmen who drove by called out to
me, ever and anon, and asked if I would not ride on the outside; and
when, every now and then, a farmer on horseback met me, he said, and
seemingly with an air of pity for me, "'Tis warm walking, sir;" and
when I passed through a village, every old woman testified her pity
by an exclamation of - "Good God!"
As far as Hounslow the way was very pleasant; afterwards I thought
it not quite so good. It lay across a common, which was of a
considerable extent, and bare and naked, excepting that here and
there I saw sheep feeding.
I now began to be very tired, when, to my astonishment, I saw a tree
in the middle of the common that stood quite solitary, and spread a
shade like an arbour round it. At the bottom, round the trunk, a
bench was placed, on which one may sit down. Beneath the shade of
this tree I reposed myself a little, read some of Milton, and made a
note in my memorandum-book that I would remember this tree, which
had so charitably and hospitably received under its shade a weary
traveller. This, you see, I have now done.
The short English miles are delightful for walking. You are always
pleased to find, every now and then, in how short a time you have
walked a mile, though, no doubt, a mile is everywhere a mile, I walk
but a moderate pace, and can accomplish four English miles in an
hour. It used to take me pretty nearly the same time for one German
mile. Now it is a pleasing exchange to find that in two hours I can
walk eight miles. And now I fancy I was about seventeen miles from
London, when I came to an inn, where, for a little wine and water, I
was obliged to pay sixpence. An Englishman who happened to be
sitting by the side of the innkeeper found out that I was a German,
and, of course, from the country of his queen, in praise of whom he
was quite lavish, observing more than once that England never had
had such a queen, and would not easily get such another.
It now began to grow hot. On the left hand, almost close to the
high road, I met with a singularly clear rivulet. In this I bathed,
and was much refreshed, and afterwards, with fresh alacrity,
continued my journey.
I had now got over the common, and was once more in a country rich
and well cultivated beyond all conception. This continued to be the
case as far as Slough, which is twenty miles and a half from London,
on the way to Oxford, and from which to the left there is a road
leading to Windsor, whose high white castle I have already seen at a
distance.
I made no stay here, but went directly to the right, along a very
pleasant high road, between meadows and green hedges, towards
Windsor, where I arrived about noon.
It strikes a foreigner as something particular and unusual when, on
passing through these fine English towns, he observed one of those
circumstances by which the towns in Germany are distinguished from
the villages - no walls, no gates, no sentries, nor garrisons. No
stern examiner comes here to search and inspect us or our baggage;
no imperious guard here demands a sight of our passports; perfectly
free and unmolested, we here walk through villages and towns as
unconcerned as we should through a house of our own.
Just before I got to Windsor I passed Eton College, one of the first
public schools in England, and perhaps in the world. I have before
observed that there are in England fewer of these great schools than
one might expect. It lay on my left; and on the right, directly
opposite to it, was an inn, into which I went.
I suppose it was during the hour of recreation, or in playtime, when
I got to Eton, for I saw the boys in the yard before the college,
which was enclosed by a low wall, in great numbers, walking and
running up and down.
