I left Tonsberg yesterday,the 22nd of August.It is only twelve or thirteen English miles to Moss,through a country less wild than any tract I had hitherto passed over in Norway.It was often beautiful,but seldom afforded those grand views which fill rather than soothe the mind.
We glided along the meadows and through the woods,with sunbeams playing around us;and,though no castles adorned the prospects,a greater number of comfortable farms met my eyes during this ride than I have ever seen,in the same space,even in the most cultivated part of England;and the very appearance of the cottages of the labourers sprinkled amidst them excluded all those gloomy ideas inspired by the contemplation of poverty.
The hay was still bringing in,for one harvest in Norway treads on the heels of the other.The woods were more variegated,interspersed with shrubs.We no longer passed through forests of vast pines stretching along with savage magnificence.Forests that only exhibited the slow decay of time or the devastation produced by warring elements.No;oaks,ashes,beech,and all the light and graceful tenants of our woods here sported luxuriantly.I had not observed many oaks before,for the greater part of the oak-planks,Iam informed,come from the westward.
In France the farmers generally live in villages,which is a great disadvantage to the country;but the Norwegian farmers,always owning their farms or being tenants for life,reside in the midst of them,allowing some labourers a dwelling rent free,who have a little land appertaining to the cottage,not only for a garden,but for crops of different kinds,such as rye,oats,buck-wheat,hemp,flax,beans,potatoes,and hay,which are sown in strips about it,reminding a stranger of the first attempts at culture,when every family was obliged to be an independent community.
These cottagers work at a certain price (tenpence per day)for the farmers on whose ground they live,and they have spare time enough to cultivate their own land and lay in a store of fish for the winter.The wives and daughters spin and the husbands and sons weave,so that they may fairly be reckoned independent,having also a little money in hand to buy coffee,brandy and some other superfluities.
The only thing I disliked was the military service,which trammels them more than I at first imagined.It is true that the militia is only called out once a year,yet in case of war they have no alternative but must abandon their families.Even the manufacturers are not exempted,though the miners are,in order to encourage undertakings which require a capital at the commencement.And,what appears more tyrannical,the inhabitants of certain districts are appointed for the land,others for the sea service.Consequently,a peasant,born a soldier,is not permitted to follow his inclination should it lead him to go to sea,a natural desire near so many seaports.
In these regulations the arbitrary government--the King of Denmark being the most absolute monarch in Europe--appears,which in other respects seeks to hide itself in a lenity that almost renders the laws nullities.If any alteration of old customs is thought of,the opinion of the old country is required and maturely considered.Ihave several times had occasion to observe that,fearing to appear tyrannical,laws are allowed to become obsolete which ought to be put in force or better substituted in their stead;for this mistaken moderation,which borders on timidity,favours the least respectable part of the people.
I saw on my way not only good parsonage houses,but comfortable dwellings,with glebe land for the clerk,always a consequential man in every country,a being proud of a little smattering of learning,to use the appropriate epithet,and vain of the stiff good-breeding reflected from the vicar,though the servility practised in his company gives it a peculiar cast.
The widow of the clergyman is allowed to receive the benefit of the living for a twelvemonth after the death of the incumbent.
Arriving at the ferry (the passage over to Moss is about six or eight English miles)I saw the most level shore I had yet seen in Norway.The appearance of the circumjacent country had been preparing me for the change of scene which was to greet me when Ireached the coast.For the grand features of nature had been dwindling into prettiness as I advanced;yet the rocks,on a smaller scale,were finely wooded to the water's edge.Little art appeared,yet sublimity everywhere gave place to elegance.The road had often assumed the appearance of a gravelled one,made in pleasure-grounds;whilst the trees excited only an idea of embellishment.Meadows,like lawns,in an endless variety,displayed the careless graces of nature;and the ripening corn gave a richness to the landscape analogous with the other objects.
Never was a southern sky more beautiful,nor more soft its gales.
Indeed,I am led to conclude that the sweetest summer in the world is the northern one,the vegetation being quick and luxuriant the moment the earth is loosened from its icy fetters and the bound streams regain their wonted activity.The balance of happiness with respect to climate may be more equal than I at first imagined;for the inhabitants describe with warmth the pleasures of a winter at the thoughts of which I shudder.Not only their parties of pleasure but of business are reserved for this season,when they travel with astonishing rapidity the most direct way,skimming over hedge and ditch.
On entering Moss I was struck by the animation which seemed to result from industry.The richest of the inhabitants keep shops,resembling in their manners and even the arrangement of their houses the tradespeople of Yorkshire;with an air of more independence,or rather consequence,from feeling themselves the first people in the place.I had not time to see the iron-works,belonging to Mr.
