The Immortal Beloved letters
6 July, in the morning
My angel, my all, my very self:
Only a few words today, and these in pencil (in your pencil). Not until tomorrow will my lodgings be definitely engaged. What a useless waste of time such matters are! Why this profound sorrow when necessity speaks? Can our love exist except through sacrifices, through not demanding everything? Can you change it that you are not wholly mine, that I am not wholly yours? O God, gaze upon nature in all its beauties and let your soul be calm at what must be. Love demands all, and rightly so -- thus it is for me with you, for you with me, but you forget so easily that I must live for myself and for you. Were we wholly united, you would feel this painful necessity as little as I.
My journey was terrible. I did not arrive here until four o'clock yesterday morning. For lack of horses, the post-coach chose another route, but what a terrible road it was! At the last stage but one I was warned against traveling at night. They cautioned me about a forest, but that only spurred me on. I was wrong: the coach broke down because of the terrible road, unmetaled, a mere country road. Without such postilions as I had, I should have been left stranded. Esterhazy, traveling hither by the usual road, met the same fate with eight horses as I with four. Even so, I found some satisfaction in it as I always do when I successfully surmount difficulties.
Now a quick change to things internal from things external. We shall soon see each other again, I am sure, and today I cannot tell you the thoughts about my own life that I have had during these few days. If our hearts were always close together I would surely have no such thoughts. My heart is filled with many things to tell you -- ah, there are moments when I find that speech is futile indeed.
Be of good spirits; remain my true, my only treasure, my all as I am yours. The rest the gods must send us, that which must and shall be for us.
Your faithful Ludwig
