I have already informed you that there are only two noblemen who have
estates of any magnitude in Norway. One of these has a house near
Tonsberg, at which he has not resided for some years, having been at
court, or on embassies. He is now the Danish Ambassador in London. The
house is pleasantly situated, and the grounds about it fine; but their
neglected appearance plainly tells that there is nobody at home.
A stupid kind of sadness, to my eye, always reigns in a huge habitation
where only servants live to put cases on the furniture and open the
windows. I enter as I would into the tomb of the Capulets, to look at
the family pictures that here frown in armour, or smile in ermine. The
mildew respects not the lordly robe, and the worm riots unchecked on the
cheek of beauty.
There was nothing in the architecture of the building, or the form of
the furniture, to detain me from the avenue where the aged pines
stretched along majestically. Time had given a greyish cast to their
ever-green foliage; and they stood, like sires of the forest, sheltered
on all sides by a rising progeny. I had not ever seen so many oaks
together in Norway as in these woods, nor such large aspens as here were
agitated by the breeze, rendering the wind audible--nay musical; for
melody seemed on the wing around me. How different was the fresh odour
that reanimated me in the avenue, from the damp chillness of the
apartments; and as little did the gloomy thoughtfulness excited by the
dusty hangings, and worm-eaten pictures, resemble the reveries inspired
by the soothing melancholy of their shade. In the winter, these august
pines, towering above the snow, must relieve the eye beyond measure and
give life to the white waste.
The continual recurrence of pine and fir groves in the day sometimes
wearies the sight, but in the evening, nothing can be more picturesque,
or, more properly speaking, better calculated to produce poetical
images. Passing through them, I have been struck with a mystic kind of
reverence, and I did, as it were, homage to their venerable shadows. Not
nymphs, but philosophers, seemed to inhabit them--ever musing; I could
scarcely conceive that they were without some consciousness of
existence--without a calm enjoyment of the pleasure they diffused.
How often do my feelings produce ideas that remind me of the origin of
many poetical fictions. In solitude, the imagination bodies forth its
conceptions unrestrained, and stops enraptured to adore the beings of
its own creation. These are moments of bliss; and the memory recalls
them with delight.
But I have almost forgotten the matters of fact I meant to relate,
respecting the counts. They have the presentation of the livings on
their estates, appoint the judges, and different civil officers, the
Crown reserving to itself the privilege of sanctioning them. But though
they appoint, they cannot dismiss. Their tenants also occupy their farms
for life, and are obliged to obey any summons to work on the part he
reserves for himself; but they are paid for their labour. In short, I
have seldom heard of any noblemen so innoxious.
Observing that the gardens round the count's estate were better
cultivated than any I had before seen, I was led to reflect on the
advantages which naturally accrue from the feudal tenures. The tenants
of the count are obliged to work at a stated price, in his grounds and
garden; and the instruction which they imperceptibly receive from the
head gardener tends to render them useful, and makes them, in the common
course of things, better husbandmen and gardeners on their own little
farms. Thus the great, who alone travel in this period of society, for
the observation of manners and customs made by sailors is very confined,
bring home improvement to promote their own comfort, which is gradually
spread abroad amongst the people, till they are stimulated to think for
themselves.
The bishops have not large revenues, and the priests are appointed by
the king before they come to them to be ordained. There is commonly some
little farm annexed to the parsonage, and the inhabitants subscribe
voluntarily, three times a year, in addition to the church fees, for the
support of the clergyman. The church lands were seized when Lutheranism
was introduced, the desire of obtaining them being probably the real
stimulus of reformation. The tithes, which are never required in kind,
are divided into three parts--one to the king, another to the incumbent,
and the third to repair the dilapidations of the parsonage. They do not
amount to much. And the stipend allowed to the different civil officers
is also too small, scarcely deserving to be termed an independence; that
of the custom-house officers is not sufficient to procure the
necessaries of life--no wonder, then, if necessity leads them to
knavery. Much public virtue cannot be expected till every employment,
putting perquisites out of the question, has a salary sufficient to
reward industry;--whilst none are so great as to permit the possessor to
remain idle. It is this want of proportion between profit and labour
which debases men, producing the sycophantic appellations of patron and
client, and that pernicious _esprit du corps_, proverbially vicious.
The farmers are hospitable as well as independent. Offering once to pay
for some coffee I drank when taking shelter from the rain, I was asked,
rather angrily, if a little coffee was worth paying for. They smoke, and
drink drams, but not so much as formerly. Drunkenness, often the
attendant disgrace of hospitality, will here, as well as everywhere
else, give place to gallantry and refinement of manners; but the change
will not be suddenly produced.
The people of every class are constant in their attendance at church;
they are very fond of dancing, and the Sunday evenings in Norway, as in
Catholic countries, are spent in exercises which exhilarate the spirits
without vitiating the heart. The rest of labour ought to be gay; and the
gladness I have felt in France on a Sunday, or Decadi, which I caught
from the faces around me, was a sentiment more truly religious than all
the stupid stillness which the streets of London ever inspired where the
Sabbath is so decorously observed. I recollect, in the country parts of
England, the churchwardens used to go out during the service to see if
they could catch any luckless wight playing at bowls or skittles; yet
what could be more harmless? It would even, I think, be a great
advantage to the English, if feats of activity (I do not include boxing
matches) were encouraged on a Sunday, as it might stop the progress of
Methodism, and of that fanatical spirit which appears to be gaining
ground. I was surprised when I visited Yorkshire, on my way to Sweden,
to find that sullen narrowness of thinking had made such a progress
since I was an inhabitant of the country. I could hardly have supposed
that sixteen or seventeen years could have produced such an alteration
for the worse in the morals of a place--yes, I say morals; for
observance of forms, and avoiding of practices, indifferent in
themselves, often supply the place of that regular attention to duties
which are so natural, that they seldom are vauntingly exercised, though
they are worth all the precepts of the law and the prophets. Besides,
many of these deluded people, with the best meaning, actually lose their
reason, and become miserable, the dread of damnation throwing them into
a state which merits the term; and still more, in running after their
preachers, expecting to promote their salvation, they disregard their
welfare in this world, and neglect the interest and comfort of their
families; so that, in proportion as they attain a reputation for piety,
they become idle.
Aristocracy and fanaticism seem equally to be gaining ground in England,
particularly in the place I have mentioned; I saw very little of either
in Norway. The people are regular in their attendance on public worship,
but religion does not interfere with their employments.
As the farmers cut away the wood they clear the ground. Every year,
therefore, the country is becoming fitter to support the inhabitants.
Half a century ago the Dutch, I am told, only paid for the cutting down
of the wood, and the farmers were glad to get rid of it without giving
themselves any trouble. At present they form a just estimate of its
value; nay, I was surprised to find even firewood so dear when it
appears to be in such plenty. The destruction, or gradual reduction, of
their forests will probably ameliorate the climate, and their manners
will naturally improve in the same ratio as industry requires ingenuity.
It is very fortunate that men are a long time but just above the brute
creation, or the greater part of the earth would never have been
rendered habitable, because it is the patient labour of men, who are
only seeking for a subsistence, which produces whatever embellishes
existence, affording leisure for the cultivation of the arts and
sciences that lift man so far above his first state. I never, my friend,
thought so deeply of the advantages obtained by human industry as since
I have been in Norway. The world requires, I see, the hand of man to
perfect it, and as this task naturally unfolds the faculties he
exercises, it is physically impossible that he should have remained in
Rousseau's golden age of stupidity. And, considering the question of
human happiness, where, oh where does it reside? Has it taken up its
abode with unconscious ignorance or with the high-wrought mind? Is it
the offspring of thoughtless animal spirits or the dye of fancy
continually flitting round the expected pleasure?
The increasing population of the earth must necessarily tend to its
improvement, as the means of existence are multiplied by invention.
You have probably made similar reflections in America, where the face of
the country, I suppose, resembles the wilds of Norway. I am delighted
with the romantic views I daily contemplate, animated by the purest air;
and I am interested by the simplicity of manners which reigns around me.
Still nothing so soon wearies out the feelings as unmarked simplicity. I
am therefore half convinced that I could not live very comfortably
exiled from the countries where mankind are so much further advanced in
knowledge, imperfect as it is, and unsatisfactory to the thinking mind.
Even now I begin to long to hear what you are doing in England and
France. My thoughts fly from this wilderness to the polished circles of
the world, till recollecting its vices and follies, I bury myself in the
woods, but find it necessary to emerge again, that I may not lose sight
of the wisdom and virtue which exalts my nature.
What a long time it requires to know ourselves; and yet almost every one
has more of this knowledge than he is willing to own, even to himself. I
cannot immediately determine whether I ought to rejoice at having turned
over in this solitude a new page in the history of my own heart, though
I may venture to assure you that a further acquaintance with mankind
only tends to increase my respect for your judgment and esteem for your
character. Farewell!