WeRead Powered by ReaderPub
Letters Written During a Short Residence in Sweden, Norway, and Denmark cover

Letters Written During a Short Residence in Sweden, Norway, and Denmark

Chapter 28: DOVER.
Open in WeRead

Explore more books like this:

About This Book

The narrative is a sequence of travel letters recording journeys through Sweden, Norway, and Denmark, blending vivid descriptions of coastal and inland landscapes, climate, and urban life with reflections on national character, social institutions, and household economy. Interwoven are autobiographical recollections and an elegiac concern for a lost friend that shapes emotional responses to places. Encounters with local people, inns, and modes of travel prompt philosophical and political observations about education, gender, and domestic independence. The prose alternates reportage, natural-history notes, and moral commentary, aiming to illuminate how external scenery and social arrangements inform private feeling and public life.

LETTER XXV.

There is a pretty little French theatre at Altona, and the actors are much superior to those I saw at Copenhagen.  The theatres at Hamburg are not open yet, but will very shortly, when the shutting of the gates at seven o’clock forces the citizens to quit their country houses.  But, respecting Hamburg, I shall not be able to obtain much more information, as I have determined to sail with the first fair wind for England.

The presence of the French army would have rendered my intended tour through Germany, in my way to Switzerland, almost impracticable, had not the advancing season obliged me to alter my plan.  Besides, though Switzerland is the country which for several years I have been particularly desirous to visit, I do not feel inclined to ramble any farther this year; nay, I am weary of changing the scene, and quitting people and places the moment they begin to interest me.  This also is vanity!

DOVER.

I left this letter unfinished, as I was hurried on board, and now I have only to tell you that, at the sight of Dover cliffs, I wondered how anybody could term them grand; they appear so insignificant to me, after those I had seen in Sweden and Norway.

Adieu!  My spirit of observation seems to be fled, and I have been wandering round this dirty place, literally speaking, to kill time, though the thoughts I would fain fly from lie too close to my heart to be easily shook off, or even beguiled, by any employment, except that of preparing for my journey to London.

God bless you!

Mary ----.