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dry moss； whilst the heath flourished upon the barren sands below
me； all this displayed to me the inner warmth which animates all
nature； and filled and glowed within my heart。 I felt myself
exalted by this overflowing fulness to the perception of the
Godhead； and the glorious forms of an infinite universe became
visible to my soul！ Stupendous mountains encompassed me； abysses
yawned at my feet； and cataracts fell headlong down before me；
impetuous rivers rolled through the plain； and rocks and mountains
resounded from afar。 In the depths of the earth I saw innumerable
powers in motion； and multiplying to infinity； whilst upon its
surface； and beneath the heavens； there teemed ten thousand varieties
of living creatures。 Everything around is alive with an infinite
number of forms； while mankind fly for security to their petty
houses； from the shelter of which they rule in their imaginations
over the wide…extended universe。 Poor fool！ in whose petty
estimation all things are little。 From the inaccessible mountains；
across the desert which no mortal foot has trod； far as the confines
of the unknown ocean； breathes the spirit of the eternal Creator；
and every atom to which he has given existence finds favour in his
sight。 Ah； how often at that time has the flight of a bird； soaring
above my head； inspired me with the desire of being transported
to the shores of the immeasurable waters； there to quaff the
pleasures of life from the foaming goblet of the Infinite； and to
partake； if but for a moment even； with the confined powers of my
soul； the beatitude of that Creator who accomplishes all things
in himself； and through himself！
My dear friend； the bare recollection of those hours still consoles
me。 Even this effort to recall those ineffable sensations； and
give them utterance； exalts my soul above itself； and makes me
doubly feel the intensity of my present anguish。
It is as if a curtain had been drawn from before my eyes； and；
instead of prospects of eternal life； the abyss of an ever open
grave yawned before me。 Can we say of anything that it exists
when all passes away； when time； with the speed of a storm； carries
all things onward； and our transitory existence； hurried along
by the torrent； is either swallowed up by the waves or dashed
against the rocks？ There is not a moment but preys upon you；
and upon all around you； not a moment in which you do not yourself
become a destroyer。 The most innocent walk deprives of life
thousands of poor insects： one step destroys the fabric of the
industrious ant； and converts a little world into chaos。 No： it
is not the great and rare calamities of the world； the floods which
sweep away whole villages； the earthquakes which swallow up our
towns； that affect me。 My heart is wasted by the thought of that
destructive power which lies concealed in every part of universal
nature。 Nature has formed nothing that does not consume itself；
and every object near it： so that； surrounded by earth and air；
and all the active powers； I wander on my way with aching heart；
and the universe is to me a fearful monster； for ever devouring
its own offspring。
AUGUST 21。
In vain do I stretch out my arms toward her when I awaken in the
morning from my weary slumbers。 In vain do I seek for her at night
in my bed； when some innocent dream has happily deceived me； and
placed her near me in the fields； when I have seized her hand and
covered it with countless kisses。 And when I feel for her in the
half confusion of sleep； with the happy sense that she is near；
tears flow from my oppressed heart； and； bereft of all comfort； I
weep over my future woes。
AUGUST 22。
What a misfortune； Wilhelm！ My active spirits have degenerated
into contented indolence。 I cannot be idle； and yet I am unable
to set to work。 I cannot think： I have no longer any feeling for
the beauties of nature； and books are distasteful to me。 Once we
give ourselves up； we are totally lost。 Many a time and oft I
wish I were a common labourer； that； awakening in the morning； I
might have but one prospect； one pursuit； one hope； for the day
which has dawned。 I often envy Albert when I see him buried in a
heap of papers and parchments； and I fancy I should be happy were
I in his place。 Often impressed with this feeling I have been on
the point of writing to you and to the minister； for the appointment
at the embassy； which you think I might obtain。 I believe I might
procure it。 The minister has long shown a regard for me； and has
frequently urged me to seek employment。 It is the business of an
hour only。 Now and then the fable of the horse recurs to me。
Weary of liberty； he suffered himself to be saddled and bridled；
and was ridden to death for his pains。 I know not what to determine
upon。 For is not this anxiety for change the consequence of that
restless spirit which would pursue me equally in every situation
of life？
AUGUST 28。
If my ills would admit of any cure； they would certainly be cured
here。 This is my birthday； and early in the morning I received a
packet from Albert。 Upon opening it； I found one of the pink
ribbons which Charlotte wore in her dress the first time I saw her；
and which I had several times asked her to give me。 With it were
two volumes in duodecimo of Wetstein's 〃Homer；〃 a book I had often
wished for； to save me the inconvenience of carrying the large
Ernestine edition with me upon my walks。 You see how they anticipate
my wishes； how well they understand all those little attentions
of friendship； so superior to the costly presents of the great；
which are humiliating。 I kissed the ribbon a thousand times； and
in every breath inhaled the remembrance of those happy and irrevocable
days which filled me with the keenest joy。 Such； Wilhelm； is our
fate。 I do not murmur at it： the flowers of life are but visionary。
How many pass away； and leave no trace behind how few yield any
fruit and the fruit itself； how rarely does it ripen！ And yet
there are flowers enough！ and is it not strange； my friend； that
we should suffer the little that does really ripen； to rot； decay；
and perish unenjoyed？ Farewell！ This is a glorious summer。 I
often climb into the trees in Charlotte's orchard； and shake down
the pears that hang on the highest branches。 She stands below；
and catches them as they fall。
AUGUST 3O。
Unhappy being that I am！ Why do I thus deceive myself？ What is
to come of all this wild； aimless； endless passion？ I cannot pray
except to her。 My imagination sees nothing but her： all surrounding
objects are of no account； except as they relate to her。 In this
dreamy state I enjoy many happy hours； till at length I feel
compelled to tear myself away from her。 Ah； Wilhelm； to what
does not my heart often compel me！ When I have spent several hours
in her company； till I feel completely absorbed by her figure； her
grace； the divine expression of her thoughts； my mind becomes
gradually excited to the highest excess； my sight grows dim； my
hearing confused； my breathing oppressed as if by the hand of a
murderer； and my beating heart seeks to obtain relief for my aching
senses。 I am sometimes unconscious whether I really exist。 If
in such moments I find no sympathy； and Charlotte does not allow
me to enjoy the melancholy consolation of bathing her hand with
my tears； I feel compelled to tear myself from her； when I either
wander through the country； climb some precipitous cliff； or force
a path through the trackless thicket； where I am lacerated and
torn by thorns and briers； and thence I find relief。 Sometimes I
lie stretched on the ground； overcome with fatigue and dying with
thirst； sometimes； late in the night； when the moon shines above
me； I recline against an aged tree in some sequestered forest； to
rest my weary limbs； when； exhausted and worn； I sleep till break
of day。 O Wilhelm！ the hermit's cell； his sackcloth； and girdle
of thorns would be luxury and indulgence compared with what I suffer。
Adieu！ I see no end to this wretchedness except the grave。
SEPTEMBER 3。
I must away。 Thank you； Wilhelm； for determining my wavering
purpose。 For a whole fortnight I have thought of leaving her。 I
must away。 She has returned to town； and is at the house of a
friend。 And then； Albert yes； I must go。
SEPTEMBER 1O。
Oh； what a night； Wilhelm！ I can henceforth bear anything。 I
shall never see her again。 Oh； why cannot I fall on your neck；
and； with floods of tears and raptures； give utterance to all the
passions which distract my heart！ Here I sit gasping for breath；
and struggling to compose myself。 I wait for day； and at sunrise
the horses are to be at the door。
And she is sleeping calmly； little suspecting that she has seen me
for the last time。 I am free。 I have had the courage； in an
interview of two hours' duration； not to betray my intention。 And
O Wilhelm； what a conversation it was！
Albert had promised to come to Charlotte in the garden immediately
after supper。 I was upon the terrace under the tall chestnut trees；
and watched the setting sun。 I saw him sink for the last time
beneath this delightful valley a