- Project Runeberg -  Life, letters, and posthumous works of Fredrika Bremer /
340

(1868) [MARC] Author: Fredrika Bremer Translator: Emily Nonnen With: Charlotte Bremer
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340 SKETCHES.

Nature there ugly, terrible. repulsive. I love her. To me
she has in her something niore attractive, more pleasing,
than landscapes of soft verdure, cultivation, and fertility,
which one can, as it were, look quite through. Reader,
canst thou love a nature without “mystery? I cannot
do it,and I feel sure that thou canst not either do it, in
case it were question of a human nature, of a human soul.
But beware of saying (I am now speaking to myself), this -
nature has no mystery! Is there, I ask, generally speak-
ing, any human soul devoid of an unknown depth? Say
then: This soul has not yet had its Whitsun festival; no
tongue of fire has breathed upon it with reviving breath,
and one knows not what is in it.

But to return to the islands on the rock-bound coast of
Bohusliin, aud their mystery. They possess such a mys-
tery: they resemble those human natures, whose surface
is hard and harsh, but hide within fertile and beautiful val-
leys. Approach nearer to these granite islands, these naked
rocks, and you will not find one amongst them which has
not grassy spots and beautiful flowery paths. These gray
rocks drink in the sun’s rays, and long retain their fire in
their granite bosom. They communicate it to the soil
round their foot, and in their bosom and out of it blooms
forth life in its fullness. Out of every crevice honeysuckle
and blackberry bushes spring forth in wild profusion, en-
circling with their flowery arms the mossy boulders, and
transforming them into beautiful monuments upon the
graves of the ancient Vikings. Bouquets of golden “Iris ”
and of wild roses are blooming amongst the granite rocks,
and high up on their rugged tops, where only the goat and
the sea-mew can find a footing, tiny white and yellow flow-
ers are nodding in the breeze, whilst the wild breakers of
the Cattegat are foaming round their base. Even upon the
smallest of these rocky islets the sheep find nourishment
and fatten, and upon the larger islands one finds hidden
from the eyes of the world a small blooming paradise, full

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