in Frankfurt, occupying himself with teaching, and now was again a private tutor in a merchant’s house in the Netherlands.  I imparted to him my desire to leave my present post, and to seek a situation with an architect; and asked his opinion whether I should not be most likely to effect my object at Frankfurt, where so many streams of diverse life and of men intermingle.  And as my friend was accurately acquainted with the ins and outs of Frankfurt life, I asked him to give me such indications as he could of the best road to take towards the fulfilment of my designs.  My friend entered heartily into my project, and wrote to me that he intended himself to spend some time in Frankfurt again in the early summer; and he suggested that if I could manage to be there at the same time, a mutual consideration of the whole matter on the spot would be the best way of going to work.  In consequence of this I at once firmly decided to leave my situation in the following spring, and to join my friend at Frankfurt.  But where was I to find the money necessary for such a journey?  I had required the 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 and outward vocation and endeavour, my true life-destiny and my apparent life-aim were still, however, in a state of separation, and indeed of conflict, of which I had not the remotest conception.  My resolve held firm to make architecture my profession; it was purely as a future architect that I took leave of all my companions.