Arriving at Fredericshall,at the siege of which Charles XII.lost his life,we had only time to take a transient view of it whilst they were preparing us some refreshment.
Poor Charles!I thought of him with respect.I have always felt the same for Alexander,with whom he has been classed as a madman by several writers,who have reasoned superficially,confounding the morals of the day with the few grand principles on which unchangeable morality rests.Making no allowance for the ignorance and prejudices of the period,they do not perceive how much they themselves are indebted to general improvement for the acquirements,and even the virtues,which they would not have had the force of mind to attain by their individual exertions in a less advanced state of society.
The evening was fine,as is usual at this season,and the refreshing odour of the pine woods became more perceptible,for it was nine o'clock when we left Fredericshall.At the ferry we were detained by a dispute relative to our Swedish passport,which we did not think of getting countersigned in Norway.Midnight was coming on,yet it might with such propriety have been termed the noon of night that,had Young ever travelled towards the north,I should not have wondered at his becoming enamoured of the moon.But it is not the Queen of Night alone who reigns here in all her splendour,though the sun,loitering just below the horizon,decks her within a golden tinge from his car,illuminating the cliffs that hide him;the heavens also,of a clear softened blue,throw her forward,and the evening star appears a smaller moon to the naked eye.The huge shadows of the rocks,fringed with firs,concentrating the views without darkening them,excited that tender melancholy which,sublimating the imagination,exalts rather than depresses the mind.
My companions fell asleep--fortunately they did not snore;and Icontemplated,fearless of idle questions,a night such as I had never before seen or felt,to charm the senses,and calm the heart.
The very air was balmy as it freshened into morn,producing the most voluptuous sensations.A vague pleasurable sentiment absorbed me,as I opened my bosom to the embraces of nature;and my soul rose to its Author,with the chirping of the solitary birds,which began to feel,rather than see,advancing day.I had leisure to mark its progress.The grey morn,streaked with silvery rays,ushered in the orient beams (how beautifully varying into purple!),yet I was sorry to lose the soft watery clouds which preceded them,exciting a kind of expectation that made me almost afraid to breathe,lest I should break the charm.I saw the sun--and sighed.
One of my companions,now awake,perceiving that the postillion had mistaken the road,began to swear at him,and roused the other two,who reluctantly shook off sleep.
We had immediately to measure back our steps,and did not reach Stromstad before five in the morning.
The wind had changed in the night,and my boat was ready.
A dish of coffee,and fresh linen,recruited my spirits,and Idirectly set out again for Norway,purposing to land much higher up the coast.
Wrapping my great-coat round me,I lay down on some sails at the bottom of the boat,its motion rocking me to rest,till a discourteous wave interrupted my slumbers,and obliged me to rise and feel a solitariness which was not so soothing as that of the past night.
Adieu!
