whole of my salary up till now to cover my personal expenses and the
settlement of some debts I had run up at Bamberg.

In this perplexity I wrote again to my eldest brother, who had up till
now understood me so well, and I asked him for assistance. I was at this
time in a peculiar dilemma. On the one hand, I felt very keenly that I
must get out of my present position, while on the other, by my
unchanging changeableness I feared to wear out the indulgence and
patience of my worthy brother. In this strait I just gave him what
seemed to me as I wrote it an exact account of my real state of mind;
telling him that I could only find my life-aim in a continual striving
towards inward perfection.

My brother's answer arrived. With a joyful tremor and agitation I held
it in my hands. For hours together I carried it about me before I
unsealed it, for days together before I read it; it seemed so improbable
that my brother would feel himself able to help me towards the
accomplishment of the desire of my soul, and I feared to find in that
letter the frustration of my life's endeavour. When, after some days of
vacillation between hope and doubt, I could bear the situation no
longer, and opened the letter, I was not a little astonished that it
began by addressing me at once in terms of the most moving sympathy. As
I read on the contents agitated me deeply. The letter gave me the news
of my beloved uncle's death, and informed me of legacies left by him to
me and my brothers. Thus fate itself, though in a manner so deeply
affecting, provided me with the means for working out my next plan.

The die was now cast. From this moment onwards my inner life received a
quite new signification and a fresh character, and yet I was unconscious
of all this. I was like a tree which flowers and knows it not. My inward