hy did Koerner love Schneider? How natural is the
love of Wallenstein for Max; that of De Stael for De Recamier;
mine for ----. I loved ----, for a time, with as much passion
as I was then strong enough to feel. Her face was always
gleaming before me; her voice was always echoing in my ear;
all poetic thoughts clustered round the dear image. This love
was a key which unlocked for me many a treasure which I still
possess; it was the carbuncle which cast light into many of
the darkest caverns of human nature. She loved me, too, though
not so much, because her nature was "less high, less grave,
less large, less deep." But she loved more tenderly, less
passionately. She loved me, for I well remember her suffering
when she first could feel my faults, and knew one part of the
exquisite veil rent away; how she wished to stay apart, and
weep the whole day.

* * * * *

'I do not love her now with passion, but I still feel towards
her as I can to no other woman. I thought of all this as I
looked at Madame Recamier.'

* * * * *

TO R.W.E.

'_7th Feb., 1843._--I saw the letter of your new friend, and
liked it much; only, at this distance, one could not be sure
whether it was the nucleus or the train of a comet, that
lightened afar. The daemons are not busy enough at the births
of most men. They do not give them individuality deep enough
for truth to take root in. Such shallow natures cannot resist
a strong head; its influence goes right through them. It is
not stopped and fermented long enough. But I do not understand
this hint of hesitation, because you have many friends
already. We need not economize, we need not hoard these
immortal treasures. Love and thought are not diminished by
diffusion. In the widow's cruse is oil enough to furnish light
for all the world.'

* * * * *

TO R.W.E.

'_15th March, 1842._--It is to be hoped, my best one, that the
experiences of life will yet correct your vocabulary, and that
you will not always answer the burst of frank affection by the
use of such a word as "flattery."

'Thou knowest, O all-seeing Truth! whether that hour is base
or unworthy thee, in which the heart turns tenderly towards
some beloved object, whether stirred by an appr