oked upon the vision which stood before me, the more I perceived, above
all else, the majestic beauty of her person and the soulful depths of her
whole being. Oh, what happiness was near me! And was this all--to be
shown the summit of earthly bliss and then be thrust out into the flat,
sandy wastes of existence? Oh, that I had never known what treasures the
earth conceals! Once to love, and then to be forever alone! Once to
believe, and then forever to doubt! Once to see the light, and then
forever to be blinded! In comparison with this rack, all the
torture-chambers of man are insignificant.

Thus rushed the wild chase of my thoughts farther and farther away until
at last all was silent. The confused sensations gradually collected and
settled. This repose and exhaustion they call meditation, but it is
rather an inspection--one allows time for the mixture of thoughts to
crystallize themselves according to eternal laws, and regards the process
like an observing chemist; and the elements having assumed a form, we
often wonder that they, as well as ourselves, are so entirely different
from what we expected.

When I awoke from my abstraction, my first words were, "I must away." I
immediately sat down and wrote the Hofrath that I should travel for
fourteen days and submit entirely to him. I easily made an excuse to my
parents, and at night I was on my way to the Tyrol.

SEVENTH MEMORY.

Wandering, arm in arm with a friend, through the valleys and over the
mountains of the Tyrol, one sips life's fresh air and enjoyment; but to
travel the same road solitary and alone with your thoughts is time and
trouble lost. Of what interest to me are the green mountains, the dark
ravines, the blue lake, and the mighty cataracts? Instead of
contemplating them they look at me and wonder among themselves at this
solitary being. It smote me to the heart that I had found no one in
all the world who loved me more than all others. With such thoughts I
awoke every morning, and they haunted me all the day like a song which
one cannot drive away. When I entered the inn at night and sat down
wearied, and the people in the room watched me, and wondered at the
solitary wanderer, it often urged me out into the night again, where no
one could see I was alone. At a late hour I would steal back, go
quietly up to my room and throw myself upon my hot bed, and the song of
Schubert's would ring through my soul until I went to sleep: "