eat 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 i
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