Weimar, 21st November, 1830.
Nemo ante obitum beatus is a phrase which figures in the world's history, but in reality means nothing. Had it any real meaning, it should be construed, "Expect trials up to the last." You, my good friend, have had no lack of these, nor I either, and it seems as though Fate were convinced that we are not woven together of nerves, veins, arteries, and other organs derived from them, but of wire. Thanks for your dear letter: once before too I had to send you a Job's message like that, as an hospitable greeting. Well, let the matter rest!
The element in this trial that is really strange and significant is, that all those burdens which I thought to divest myself of immediately,—nay, with the New Year,—letting them devolve on one younger than myself,—I shall now have to drag on alone, and that too with more difficulty than ever.
In such matters, it is the grand idea of duty that can alone uphold us. I have no care but to keep myself in physical equilibrium; everything else will follow as a matter of course. The body must, the mind will, and he whose will can trace the inevitable path marked out before it, need not feel much anxiety.
I will not add more, but reserve for myself the privilege of advancing from this point, as occasion offers. My warm and grateful remembrances to all those, who have shown themselves so truly sympathetic.
Your faithfully attached J. W. v. Goethe.