Among these truly sylvan scenes the sea unfolds its ample bosom; under every circumstance of variation it is an object of awful grandeur; but, perhaps, in its more peaceful moments, when its surface is unruffled by the wind, it is best adapted to scenes like these, where all is harmony and repose.
Here too, at certain seasons of the year, the flock roams at large; the wood, the hill, and the valley, are alike subject to the impression of its wandering feet, and scattered in groupes over the landscape add greatly to its beauty.
The picturesque figure of the shepherd attended by his dog, the faithful companion of his solitary hours, in whatever situation we find him, whether collecting his scattered flock or indolently stretched at ease upon the verdant turf, are circumstances of the most pleasing kind.
“Amid his subjects safe,
Slumbers the monarch-swain, his careless arm
Thrown round his head, on downy moss sustain’d;
Here laid his scrip, with wholesome viands fill’d;
There, lift’ning every noise, his watchful dog.”
Neither must we forget the rural situation of the shepherd’s cottage; this subject has often been the theme of authors, both in fiction and reality; here happily it has in reality the very situation we should wish it to enjoy, sunk in the bosom of its wood crowned hills, it appears though a lowly cot, the very mansion of peace.
By this description, I do not mean the cottage placed by the hand of art, and made merely to suit the situation, but the real residence of humble industry, solely for use, not ornamented, and which time has naturalized to the soil it occupies. This gives it double value; its moss-grown thatch and time-stained walls are both in colour and form in perfect harmony with the objects that surround it, and, the knowledge that it is really the habitation of the peasant, though we see not its inhabitants is congenial with our feelings, and aid the delusions which such scenes impress upon the senses. Connexion of objects which ought to be the prevailing principle in every kind of decoration, is too often the last circumstance that is attended to; by connexion I mean that objects ought to be adapted to the situation they are intended to occupy, both in form and colour; and this principle holds good almost in an equal degree in the internal parts of a house, as in those decorations which are employed about the pleasure grounds.
In painting it is a general rule that no invention, drawing or execution, can make amends for want of harmony; a single predominant colour out of place destroys the effect of a picture. It is the same in a real landscape, any object out of place, or that does not connect with the scene, or even admitting that it is well situated if its construction be disagreeable, or what is worse its colour, it becomes offensive, it fixes the attention to the spot and disgusts in proportion as it has the power of obtruding itself on the view.
The approach from hence to Weybourn, another village upon the sea coast, is highly picturesque. An ancient ruin of part of the monastic church, adjoining the parish church, from its peculiar stile of building may be worth the attention of the curious in the researches of antiquity, though it is capable of affording but little to the sketch book of the artist.
From Weybourn instead of returning to Cromer by the same road, the traveller will keep along the edge of the sea coast, having on his right hand the woods which he had before passed between.
By this route he is carried to Lower Sherringham, where there is a good house of entertainment, with rooms so delightfully situated, that at high water you may actually conceive yourself at sea; indeed, there is scarcely a foot path left between the house and the cliff, and no little care has been taken to exclude it from the rude embrace of that boisterous element.