Books: Letters on Sweden, Norway, and Denmark

M >> Mary Wollstonecraft >> Letters on Sweden, Norway, and Denmark

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To prolong this enjoyment, I readily assented to the proposal of our
host to pay a visit to a family, the master of which spoke English,
who was the drollest dog in the country, he added, repeating some of
his stories with a hearty laugh.

I walked on, still delighted with the rude beauties of the scene;
for the sublime often gave place imperceptibly to the beautiful,
dilating the emotions which were painfully concentrated.

When we entered this abode, the largest I had yet seen, I was
introduced to a numerous family; but the father, from whom I was led
to expect so much entertainment, was absent. The lieutenant
consequently was obliged to be the interpreter of our reciprocal
compliments. The phrases were awkwardly transmitted, it is true;
but looks and gestures were sufficient to make them intelligible and
interesting. The girls were all vivacity, and respect for me could
scarcely keep them from romping with my host, who, asking for a
pinch of snuff, was presented with a box, out of which an artificial
mouse, fastened to the bottom, sprang. Though this trick had
doubtless been played the out of mind, yet the laughter it excited
was not less genuine.

They were overflowing with civility; but, to prevent their almost
killing my babe with kindness, I was obliged to shorten my visit;
and two or three of the girls accompanied us, bringing with them a
part of whatever the house afforded to contribute towards rendering
my supper more plentiful; and plentiful in fact it was, though I
with difficulty did honour to some of the dishes, not relishing the
quantity of sugar and spices put into everything. At supper my host
told me bluntly that I was a woman of observation, for I asked him
MEN'S QUESTIONS.

The arrangements for my journey were quickly made. I could only
have a car with post-horses, as I did not choose to wait till a
carriage could be sent for to Gothenburg. The expense of my journey
(about one or two and twenty English miles) I found would not amount
to more than eleven or twelve shillings, paying, he assured me,
generously. I gave him a guinea and a half. But it was with the
greatest difficulty that I could make him take so much--indeed
anything--for my lodging and fare. He declared that it was next to
robbing me, explaining how much I ought to pay on the road.
However, as I was positive, he took the guinea for himself; but, as
a condition, insisted on accompanying me, to prevent my meeting with
any trouble or imposition on the way.

I then retired to my apartment with regret. The night was so fine
that I would gladly have rambled about much longer, yet,
recollecting that I must rise very early, I reluctantly went to bed;
but my senses had been so awake, and my imagination still continued
so busy, that I sought for rest in vain. Rising before six, I
scented the sweet morning air; I had long before heard the birds
twittering to hail the dawning day, though it could scarcely have
been allowed to have departed.

Nothing, in fact, can equal the beauty of the northern summer's
evening and night, if night it may be called that only wants the
glare of day, the full light which frequently seems so impertinent,
for I could write at midnight very well without a candle. I
contemplated all Nature at rest; the rocks, even grown darker in
their appearance, looked as if they partook of the general repose,
and reclined more heavily on their foundation. "What," I exclaimed,
"is this active principle which keeps me still awake? Why fly my
thoughts abroad, when everything around me appears at home?" My
child was sleeping with equal calmness--innocent and sweet as the
closing flowers. Some recollections, attached to the idea of home,
mingled with reflections respecting the state of society I had been
contemplating that evening, made a tear drop on the rosy cheek I had
just kissed, and emotions that trembled on the brink of ecstasy and
agony gave a poignancy to my sensations which made me feel more
alive than usual.

What are these imperious sympathies? How frequently has melancholy
and even misanthropy taken possession of me, when the world has
disgusted me, and friends have proved unkind. I have then
considered myself as a particle broken off from the grand mass of
mankind; I was alone, till some involuntary sympathetic emotion,
like the attraction of adhesion, made me feel that I was still a
part of a mighty whole, from which I could not sever myself--not,
perhaps, for the reflection has been carried very far, by snapping
the thread of an existence, which loses its charms in proportion as
the cruel experience of life stops or poisons the current of the
heart. Futurity, what hast thou not to give to those who know that
there is such a thing as happiness! I speak not of philosophical
contentment, though pain has afforded them the strongest conviction
of it.

After our coffee and milk--for the mistress of the house had been
roused long before us by her hospitality--my baggage was taken
forward in a boat by my host, because the car could not safely have
been brought to the house.

The road at first was very rocky and troublesome, but our driver was
careful, and the horses accustomed to the frequent and sudden
acclivities and descents; so that, not apprehending any danger, I
played with my girl, whom I would not leave to Marguerite's care, on
account of her timidity.

Stopping at a little inn to bait the horses, I saw the first
countenance in Sweden that displeased me, though the man was better
dressed than any one who had as yet fallen in my way. An
altercation took place between him and my host, the purport of which
I could not guess, excepting that I was the occasion of it, be it
what it would. The sequel was his leaving the house angrily; and I
was immediately informed that he was the custom-house officer. The
professional had indeed effaced the national character, for, living
as he did within these frank hospitable people, still only the
exciseman appeared, the counterpart of some I had met with in
England and France. I was unprovided with a passport, not having
entered any great town. At Gothenburg I knew I could immediately
obtain one, and only the trouble made me object to the searching my
trunks. He blustered for money; but the lieutenant was determined
to guard me, according to promise, from imposition.

To avoid being interrogated at the town-gate, and obliged to go in
the rain to give an account of myself (merely a form) before we
could get the refreshment we stood in need of, he requested us to
descend--I might have said step--from our car, and walk into town.

I expected to have found a tolerable inn, but was ushered into a
most comfortless one; and, because it was about five o'clock, three
or four hours after their dining hour, I could not prevail on them
to give me anything warm to eat.

The appearance of the accommodations obliged me to deliver one of my
recommendatory letters, and the gentleman to whom it was addressed
sent to look out for a lodging for me whilst I partook of his
supper. As nothing passed at this supper to characterise the
country, I shall here close my letter.

Yours truly.

LETTER II.

Gothenburg is a clean airy town, and, having been built by the
Dutch, has canals running through each street; and in some of them
there are rows of trees that would render it very pleasant were it
not for the pavement, which is intolerably bad.

There are several rich commercial houses--Scotch, French, and
Swedish; but the Scotch, I believe, have been the most successful.
The commerce and commission business with France since the war has
been very lucrative, and enriched the merchants I am afraid at the
expense of the other inhabitants, by raising the price of the
necessaries of life.

As all the men of consequence--I mean men of the largest fortune--
are merchants, their principal enjoyment is a relaxation from
business at the table, which is spread at, I think, too early an
hour (between one and two) for men who have letters to write and
accounts to settle after paying due respect to the bottle.

However, when numerous circles are to be brought together, and when
neither literature nor public amusements furnish topics for
conversation, a good dinner appears to be the only centre to rally
round, especially as scandal, the zest of more select parties, can
only be whispered. As for politics, I have seldom found it a
subject of continual discussion in a country town in any part of the
world. The politics of the place, being on a smaller scale, suits
better with the size of their faculties; for, generally speaking,
the sphere of observation determines the extent of the mind.

The more I see of the world, the more I am convinced that
civilisation is a blessing not sufficiently estimated by those who
have not traced its progress; for it not only refines our
enjoyments, but produces a variety which enables us to retain the
primitive delicacy of our sensations. Without the aid of the
imagination all the pleasures of the senses must sink into
grossness, unless continual novelty serve as a substitute for the
imagination, which, being impossible, it was to this weariness, I
suppose, that Solomon alluded when he declared that there was
nothing new under the sun!--nothing for the common sensations
excited by the senses. Yet who will deny that the imagination and
understanding have made many, very many discoveries since those
days, which only seem harbingers of others still more noble and
beneficial? I never met with much imagination amongst people who
had not acquired a habit of reflection; and in that state of society
in which the judgment and taste are not called forth, and formed by
the cultivation of the arts and sciences, little of that delicacy of
feeling and thinking is to be found characterised by the word
sentiment. The want of scientific pursuits perhaps accounts for the
hospitality, as well as for the cordial reception which strangers
receive from the inhabitants of small towns.

Hospitality has, I think, been too much praised by travellers as a
proof of goodness of heart, when, in my opinion, indiscriminate
hospitality is rather a criterion by which you may form a tolerable
estimate of the indolence or vacancy of a head; or, in other words,
a fondness for social pleasures in which the mind not having its
proportion of exercise, the bottle must be pushed about.

These remarks are equally applicable to Dublin, the most hospitable
city I ever passed through. But I will try to confine my
observations more particularly to Sweden.

It is true I have only had a glance over a small part of it; yet of
its present state of manners and acquirements I think I have formed
a distinct idea, without having visited the capital--where, in fact,
less of a national character is to be found than in the remote parts
of the country.

The Swedes pique themselves on their politeness; but far from being
the polish of a cultivated mind, it consists merely of tiresome
forms and ceremonies. So far, indeed, from entering immediately
into your character, and making you feel instantly at your ease,
like the well-bred French, their over-acted civility is a continual
restraint on all your actions. The sort of superiority which a
fortune gives when there is no superiority of education, excepting
what consists in the observance of senseless forms, has a contrary
effect than what is intended; so that I could not help reckoning the
peasantry the politest people of Sweden, who, only aiming at
pleasing you, never think of being admired for their behaviour.

Their tables, like their compliments, seem equally a caricature of
the French. The dishes are composed, as well as theirs, of a
variety of mixtures to destroy the native taste of the food without
being as relishing. Spices and sugar are put into everything, even
into the bread; and the only way I can account for their partiality
to high-seasoned dishes is the constant use of salted provisions.
Necessity obliges them to lay up a store of dried fish and salted
meat for the winter; and in summer, fresh meat and fish taste
insipid after them. To which may be added the constant use of
spirits. Every day, before dinner and supper, even whilst the
dishes are cooling on the table, men and women repair to a side-
table; and to obtain an appetite eat bread-and-butter, cheese, raw
salmon, or anchovies, drinking a glass of brandy. Salt fish or meat
then immediately follows, to give a further whet to the stomach. As
the dinner advances, pardon me for taking up a few minutes to
describe what, alas! has detained me two or three hours on the
stretch observing, dish after dish is changed, in endless rotation,
and handed round with solemn pace to each guest; but should you
happen not to like the first dishes, which was often my case, it is
a gross breach of politeness to ask for part of any other till its
turn comes. But have patience, and there will be eating enough.
Allow me to run over the acts of a visiting day, not overlooking the
interludes.

Prelude a luncheon--then a succession of fish, flesh, and fowl for
two hours, during which time the dessert--I was sorry for the
strawberries and cream--rests on the table to be impregnated by the
fumes of the viands. Coffee immediately follows in the drawing-
room, but does not preclude punch, ale, tea and cakes, raw salmon,
&c. A supper brings up the rear, not forgetting the introductory
luncheon, almost equalling in removes the dinner. A day of this
kind you would imagine sufficient; but a to-morrow and a to-morrow--
A never-ending, still-beginning feast may be bearable, perhaps, when
stern winter frowns, shaking with chilling aspect his hoary locks;
but during a summer, sweet as fleeting, let me, my kind strangers,
escape sometimes into your fir groves, wander on the margin of your
beautiful lakes, or climb your rocks, to view still others in
endless perspective, which, piled by more than giant's hand, scale
the heavens to intercept its rays, or to receive the parting tinge
of lingering day--day that, scarcely softened unto twilight, allows
the freshening breeze to wake, and the moon to burst forth in all
her glory to glide with solemn elegance through the azure expanse.

The cow's bell has ceased to tinkle the herd to rest; they have all
paced across the heath. Is not this the witching time of night?
The waters murmur, and fall with more than mortal music, and spirits
of peace walk abroad to calm the agitated breast. Eternity is in
these moments. Worldly cares melt into the airy stuff that dreams
are made of, and reveries, mild and enchanting as the first hopes of
love or the recollection of lost enjoyment, carry the hapless wight
into futurity, who in bustling life has vainly strove to throw off
the grief which lies heavy at the heart. Good night! A crescent
hangs out in the vault before, which woos me to stray abroad. It is
not a silvery reflection of the sun, but glows with all its golden
splendour. Who fears the fallen dew? It only makes the mown grass
smell more fragrant. Adieu!

LETTER III.

The population of Sweden has been estimated from two millions and a
half to three millions; a small number for such an immense tract of
country, of which only so much is cultivated--and that in the
simplest manner--as is absolutely requisite to supply the
necessaries of life; and near the seashore, whence herrings are
easily procured, there scarcely appears a vestige of cultivation.
The scattered huts that stand shivering on the naked rocks, braving
the pitiless elements, are formed of logs of wood rudely hewn; and
so little pains are taken with the craggy foundation that nothing
hike a pathway points out the door.

Gathered into himself by the cold, lowering his visage to avoid the
cutting blast, is it surprising that the churlish pleasure of
drinking drams takes place of social enjoyments amongst the poor,
especially if we take into the account that they mostly live on
high-seasoned provision and rye bread? Hard enough, you may
imagine, as it is baked only once a year. The servants also, in
most families, eat this kind of bread, and have a different kind of
food from their masters, which, in spite of all the arguments I have
heard to vindicate the custom, appears to me a remnant of barbarism.

In fact, the situation of the servants in every respect,
particularly that of the women, shows how far the Swedes are from
having a just conception of rational equality. They are not termed
slaves; yet a man may strike a man with impunity because he pays him
wages, though these wages are so low that necessity must teach them
to pilfer, whilst servility renders them false and boorish. Still
the men stand up for the dignity of man by oppressing the women.
The most menial, and even laborious offices, are therefore left to
these poor drudges. Much of this I have seen. In the winter, I am
told, they take the linen down to the river to wash it in the cold
water, and though their hands, cut by the ice, are cracked and
bleeding, the men, their fellow-servants, will not disgrace their
manhood by carrying a tub to lighten their burden.

You will not be surprised to hear that they do not wear shoes or
stockings, when I inform you that their wages are seldom more than
twenty or thirty shillings per annum. It is the custom, I know, to
give them a new year's gift and a present at some other period, but
can it all amount to a just indemnity for their labour? The
treatment of servants in most countries, I grant, is very unjust,
and in England, that boasted land of freedom, it is often extremely
tyrannical. I have frequently, with indignation, heard gentlemen
declare that they would never allow a servant to answer them; and
ladies of the most exquisite sensibility, who were continually
exclaiming against the cruelty of the vulgar to the brute creation,
have in my presence forgot that their attendants had human feelings
as well as forms. I do not know a more agreeable sight than to see
servants part of a family. By taking an interest, generally
speaking, in their concerns you inspire them with one for yours. We
must love our servants, or we shall never be sufficiently attentive
to their happiness; and how can those masters be attentive to their
happiness who, living above their fortunes, are more anxious to
outshine their neighbours than to allow their household the innocent
enjoyments they earn?

It is, in fact, much more difficult for servants, who are tantalised
by seeing and preparing the dainties of which they are not to
partake, to remain honest, than the poor, whose thoughts are not led
from their homely fare; so that, though the servants here are
commonly thieves, you seldom hear of housebreaking, or robbery on
the highway. The country is, perhaps, too thinly inhabited to
produce many of that description of thieves termed footpads, or
highwaymen. They are usually the spawn of great cities--the effect
of the spurious desires generated by wealth, rather than the
desperate struggles of poverty to escape from misery.

The enjoyment of the peasantry was drinking brandy and coffee,
before the latter was prohibited, and the former not allowed to be
privately distilled, the wars carried on by the late king rendering
it necessary to increase the revenue, and retain the specie in the
country by every possible means.

The taxes before the reign of Charles XII. were inconsiderable.
Since then the burden has continually been growing heavier, and the
price of provisions has proportionately increased--nay, the
advantage accruing from the exportation of corn to France and rye to
Germany will probably produce a scarcity in both Sweden and Norway,
should not a peace put a stop to it this autumn, for speculations of
various kinds have already almost doubled the price.

Such are the effects of war, that it saps the vitals even of the
neutral countries, who, obtaining a sudden influx of wealth, appear
to be rendered flourishing by the destruction which ravages the
hapless nations who are sacrificed to the ambition of their
governors. I shall not, however, dwell on the vices, though they be
of the most contemptible and embruting cast, to which a sudden
accession of fortune gives birth, because I believe it may be
delivered as an axiom, that it is only in proportion to the industry
necessary to acquire wealth that a nation is really benefited by it.

The prohibition of drinking coffee under a penalty, and the
encouragement given to public distilleries, tend to impoverish the
poor, who are not affected by the sumptuary laws; for the regent has
lately laid very severe restraints on the articles of dress, which
the middling class of people found grievous, because it obliged them
to throw aside finery that might have lasted them for their lives.

These may be termed vexatious; still the death of the king, by
saving them from the consequences his ambition would naturally have
entailed on them, may be reckoned a blessing.

Besides, the French Revolution has not only rendered all the crowned
heads more cautious, but has so decreased everywhere (excepting
amongst themselves) a respect for nobility, that the peasantry have
not only lost their blind reverence for their seigniors, but
complain in a manly style of oppressions which before they did not
think of denominating such, because they were taught to consider
themselves as a different order of beings. And, perhaps, the
efforts which the aristocrats are making here, as well as in every
other part of Europe, to secure their sway, will be the most
effectual mode of undermining it, taking into the calculation that
the King of Sweden, like most of the potentates of Europe, has
continually been augmenting his power by encroaching on the
privileges of the nobles.

The well-bred Swedes of the capital are formed on the ancient French
model, and they in general speak that language; for they have a
knack at acquiring languages with tolerable fluency. This may be
reckoned an advantage in some respects; but it prevents the
cultivation of their own, and any considerable advance in literary
pursuits.

A sensible writer has lately observed (I have not his work by me,
therefore cannot quote his exact words), "That the Americans very
wisely let the Europeans make their books and fashions for them."
But I cannot coincide with him in this opinion. The reflection
necessary to produce a certain number even of tolerable productions
augments more than he is aware of the mass of knowledge in the
community. Desultory reading is commonly a mere pastime. But we
must have an object to refer our reflections to, or they will seldom
go below the surface. As in travelling, the keeping of a journal
excites to many useful inquiries that would not have been thought of
had the traveller only determined to see all he could see, without
ever asking himself for what purpose. Besides, the very dabbling in
literature furnishes harmless topics of conversation; for the not
having such subjects at hand, though they are often insupportably
fatiguing, renders the inhabitants of little towns prying and
censorious. Idleness, rather than ill-nature, gives birth to
scandal, and to the observation of little incidents which narrows
the mind. It is frequently only the fear of being talked of which
produces that puerile scrupulosity about trifles incompatible with
an enlarged plan of usefulness, and with the basis of all moral
principles--respect for the virtues which are not merely the virtues
of convention.

I am, my friend, more and more convinced that a metropolis, or an
abode absolutely solitary, is the best calculated for the
improvement of the heart, as well as the understanding; whether we
desire to become acquainted with man, nature, or ourselves. Mixing
with mankind, we are obliged to examine our prejudices, and often
imperceptibly lose, as we analyse them. And in the country, growing
intimate with nature, a thousand little circumstances, unseen by
vulgar eyes, give birth to sentiments dear to the imagination, and
inquiries which expand the soul, particularly when cultivation has
not smoothed into insipidity all its originality of character.

I love the country, yet whenever I see a picturesque situation
chosen on which to erect a dwelling I am always afraid of the
improvements. It requires uncommon taste to form a whole, and to
introduce accommodations and ornaments analogous with the
surrounding-scene.

It visited, near Gothenburg, a house with improved land about it,
with which I was particularly delighted. It was close to a lake
embosomed in pine-clad rocks. In one part of the meadows your eye
was directed to the broad expanse, in another you were led into a
shade, to see a part of it, in the form of a river, rush amongst the
fragments of rocks and roots of trees; nothing seemed forced. One
recess, particularly grand and solemn amongst the towering cliffs,
had a rude stone table and seat placed in it, that might have served
for a Druid's haunt, whilst a placid stream below enlivened the
flowers on its margin, where light-footed elves would gladly have
danced their airy rounds.

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