JUNE 19

I do not recall how much I told you the other night in my letter. I was up until very late writing it. It is a good thing you were not here, or I would have surety talked to you until sunrise.

You still do not know about our ride home together. I will not go into too much detail. Everyone else in the carriage was asleep except for Charlotte and myself. She asked me if I was feeling very sleepy. I turned toward her and, looking directly into her eyes, said, "It would be impossible for me to sleep while you are awake." When we finally reached her home, I walked her to the front door. Everyone was asleep inside. I asked her if I could visit her the following day. She agreed, and I returned to the carriage. Since then, my mind can only think of her. Everything else seems so unimportant.

JUNE 21

I have never felt so much happiness in my life as I do now. I have recently moved to Walheim so that I can be closer to Charlotte. How could I ever have guessed that my aimless wandering about the countryside would eventually lead me to such heavenly place? How many times must I have passed that hunting lodge, unaware of the woman it held inside: the one woman who could so capture my heart.

I find it interesting that when I first looked upon the countryside from that hill at Walheim, I was filled with a great desire to explore all the wonderful little areas before me. I went to them and then returned, feeling unsatisfied. It seems as though looking at things from far away is much like looking at our own future. We make goals for ourselves. We dream of reaching them. Then, once we do, we still feel as empty and unhappy as before.

Men who travel the world searching for happiness, often become terribly homesick and then find upon their return to their wife and family that the thing they were looking for already existed in their own home.

As the sun is rising, I enjoy going out to fill my bag with vegetables, which will later be my supper. I then sit down to work, removing their outer covering and cleaning them, taking occasional breaks to read Homer. And, finally, I put them in a pan and cook them over a hot stove, being careful to stir them regularly, so they don't burn. All of this makes me feel like one of the men in Homer's book, who prepares his food while patiently waiting outside beautiful Penelope's castle, hoping that she will choose him as her husband. I feel as though I can enjoy the same happiness and satisfaction that a common fanner feels as he eats the vegetables he has grown.

JUNE 29

A day or so ago, the town doctor came to see the judge. He was very disappointed to find me there, playing around with Charlotte's brothers and sisters. He is a quite serious fellow, and seemed to feel that my behavior was inappropriate for a grown man. To be honest, I did not care what he thought. However, afterward, he went around town saying that I was spoiling the judge's children too much.

I must admit that I cannot help myself with children. I love being able to see their characters beginning to form. I love their purity. We adults should admire them more than we do. We should not try to control them so much. We, who are so imperfect and so dissatisfied with ourselves, always Strive to make our children like ourselves! Why? Because we are more wise? Because we have lived longer and experienced more?I think that it should be quite the other way around! We should be learning from them.

I'll stop here, Wilhelm. The topic is a very confusing and upsetting one for me.

JULY 1

My poor heart suffers from not being near Charlotte these last few days. She is away in the town, watching over a dying woman, who asked for her company. She and i went to a mountain village together just the week before to see the Priest of S. He is quite an old man. When we arrived, we found him sitting in a chair outside his home, under a couple of trees. As soon as he saw Charlotte, he forgot himself and immediately stood up to walk toward her. Knowing that he could not walk well, Charlotte quickly ran over to him and helped him back down into his chair. She read him a couple of letters from her father and then began to play with the fellow's grandchild.

I cannot tell you how moved I was to see how kind she was toward the man. And the man, you could clearly see, appreciated all her efforts. His mood brightened so much that he seemed to become a few years younger. Noticing the attention I was paying to the two huge trees that he sat under, he even managed to gather enough strength to tell us about their history.

"I'm not exactly sure about the age of the older one, but this other one, here, is exactly as old as my wife. Her father put it into the ground here the very same day that she came into this world. Then, twenty-seven years ago, I met my wife right here for the first time. She was sitting under this tree, sewing clothes."

The old fellow's daughter, Frederica, soon appeared in the courtyard with a young man, whom I guessed was her boyfriend. She was a very pretty brown-haired girl, with a pleasant character. Her boyfriend was quiet and would not, no matter how hard Charlotte tried, talk much with us. I soon learned that his quietness was not from shyness, but from a bad attitude.

The four of us then took a walk together, and as I was talking to Frederica I noticed that her boyfriend's face began to look angry. Charlotte placed her hand on my arm to suggest that I not talk so much with Frederica. I simply hate it, Wilhelm, when men behave like this fellow. Instead of enjoying the moment, they spend it being upset for no reason. When, later on, at the priest's dinner table, people were discussing the troubles of today's world, I took the opportunity to express my opinion about people who have bad attitudes.

"So often do I hear people say that they are seldom happy," I began, "They don't seem to appreciate the wonderful things God has given us in this world."

"But not everyone can control their moods," the priest's wife argued, "Especially people who are ill."

"That is true," I agreed, "But in that case, we ought to simply find a treatment for the illness."

"I think every person is different," Charlotte said, "If I feel upset or sad, all that I have to do to make myself happy again is sing a couple of dance songs."

"Exactly!" I cried, "People have bad attitudes because they are too lazy to try and be happy."

Frederica's boyfriend disagreed. He felt that people could not control their nature.

"But it's the people who never try to change their feeling remain unhappy. They should at least try." I then noticed the priest putting his hand to his ear, trying to listen. Speaking louder, I said, "We're talking about people with bad attitudes!"

"Ah!" he cried, "Only city people have bad attitudes. We countryside people are all happy."

Everyone at the table laughed, until the old man started to cough loudly. Once he was fine again, Frederica's boyfriend continued his argument from before.

"You talk of 'bad attitudes', but maybe some people are just naturally unhappy. Aren't you being a little too hard on them?"

"If they are unhappy," I replied, "why must they try and make everyone else around them unhappy as well? He should keep his unhappiness inside himself and not upset others. I also think that people hate it when they see that they are not the cause of other people's happiness. It makes them angry with the happy person." I was speaking passionately now, and saw that Frederica's eyes were beginning to water. "I think that these people are cruel! We should all be free to enjoy happiness!" My voice began to shake with emotion as certain moments of my past came suddenly into my mind. "What will the horrible man feel, when he is standing next to the deathbed of the girl he caused to die from sadness? Seeing that she cannot be helped, that he cannot save her or change the way he had treated her, he will suffer the worst guilt in the world. He will never be able to forgive himself!"

In truth, I had seen such a situation occur before. And the memory of this became too much for me to handle. I immediately rose from the table, with my arm over my eyes to try and hide the tears that were now coming, and ran from the room.

On our way home, Charlotte was very kind. She told me that I should not be so passionate about everything. She was worried that it might hurt me eventually. Thank you, dear Charlotte! Because of you, I will take better care of myself.

(end of section)