When a country arrives at a certain state of perfection,it looks as if it were made so;and curiosity is not excited.Besides,in social life too many objects occur for any to be distinctly observed by the generality of mankind;yet a contemplative man,or poet,in the country--I do not mean the country adjacent to cities--feels and sees what would escape vulgar eyes,and draws suitable inferences.
This train of reflections might have led me further,in every sense of the word;but I could not escape from the detestable evaporation of the herrings,which poisoned all my pleasure.
After making a tolerable supper--for it is not easy to get fresh provisions on the road--I retired,to be lulled to sleep by the murmuring of a stream,of which I with great difficulty obtained sufficient to perform my daily ablutions.
The last battle between the Danes and Swedes,which gave new life to their ancient enmity,was fought at this place 1788;only seventeen or eighteen were killed,for the great superiority of the Danes and Norwegians obliged the Swedes to submit;but sickness,and a scarcity of provision,proved very fatal to their opponents on their return.
It would be very easy to search for the particulars of this engagement in the publications of the day;but as this manner of filling my pages does not come within my plan,I probably should not have remarked that the battle was fought here,were it not to relate an anecdote which I had from good authority.
I noticed,when I first mentioned this place to you,that we descended a steep before we came to the inn;an immense ridge of rocks stretching out on one side.The inn was sheltered under them;and about a hundred yards from it was a bridge that crossed the river,the murmurs of which I have celebrated;it was not fordable.
The Swedish general received orders to stop at the bridge and dispute the passage--a most advantageous post for an army so much inferior in force;but the influence of beauty is not confined to courts.The mistress of the inn was handsome;when I saw her there were still some remains of beauty;and,to preserve her house,the general gave up the only tenable station.He was afterwards broke for contempt of orders.
Approaching the frontiers,consequently the sea,nature resumed an aspect ruder and ruder,or rather seemed the bones of the world waiting to be clothed with everything necessary to give life and beauty.Still it was sublime.
The clouds caught their hue of the rocks that menaced them.The sun appeared afraid to shine,the birds ceased to sing,and the flowers to bloom;but the eagle fixed his nest high amongst the rocks,and the vulture hovered over this abode of desolation.The farm houses,in which only poverty resided,were formed of logs scarcely keeping off the cold and drifting snow:out of them the inhabitants seldom peeped,and the sports or prattling of children was neither seen or heard.The current of life seemed congealed at the source:all were not frozen,for it was summer,you remember;but everything appeared so dull that I waited to see ice,in order to reconcile me to the absence of gaiety.
The day before,my attention had frequently been attracted by the wild beauties of the country we passed through.
The rocks which tossed their fantastic heads so high were often covered with pines and firs,varied in the most picturesque manner.
Little woods filled up the recesses when forests did not darken the scene,and valleys and glens,cleared of the trees,displayed a dazzling verdure which contrasted with the gloom of the shading pines.The eye stole into many a covert where tranquillity seemed to have taken up her abode,and the number of little lakes that continually presented themselves added to the peaceful composure of the scenery.The little cultivation which appeared did not break the enchantment,nor did castles rear their turrets aloft to crush the cottages,and prove that man is more savage than the natives of the woods.I heard of the bears but never saw them stalk forth,which I was sorry for;I wished to have seen one in its wild state.
In the winter,I am told,they sometimes catch a stray cow,which is a heavy loss to the owner.
The farms are small.Indeed most of the houses we saw on the road indicated poverty,or rather that the people could just live.
Towards the frontiers they grew worse and worse in their appearance,as if not willing to put sterility itself out of countenance.No gardens smiled round the habitations,not a potato or cabbage to eat with the fish drying on a stick near the door.A little grain here and there appeared,the long stalks of which you might almost reckon.The day was gloomy when we passed over this rejected spot,the wind bleak,and winter seemed to be contending with nature,faintly struggling to change the season.Surely,thought I,if the sun ever shines here it cannot warm these stones;moss only cleaves to them,partaking of their hardness,and nothing like vegetable life appears to cheer with hope the heart.
