"
He is always just and inclined to be generous in his judgment of every
one except himself. It is necessary, however, after the year 1824, to
make due allowance for the terrible strain upon his mind which disposed
him to give violent and hyperbolical expression to the mood of the
moment. The unhappy passion which he could at times smother, but never
subdue, went boring away into his heart like a subterranean fire,
consuming his vitals, and occasionally breaking forth into a wild blaze.
The following reference to it, in his letter to Franzen (November 13,
1825), is very pathetic:
"It is to-day my forty-third birthday. I have thus long since
passed the highest altitude of life where the waters divide. With
every year one now becomes smaller and smaller; one star is
extinguished after another. And yet the sun does not rise. One dies
by degrees and by halves. Therefore only children and youth ought
to celebrate their birthdays with joy; we who have passed into the
valley of age, which with every step is growing darker and
chillier, are right in celebrating them with--whims.
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