The Sorrows of Young Werther
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J.W. von Goethe >> The Sorrows of Young Werther
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10 *END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END*
The Sorrows of Young Werther by J.W. von Goethe
Translated by R.D. Boylan
Edited by Nathen Haskell Dole
The Sorrows of Young Werther
PREFACE
I have carefully collected whatever I have been able to learn of
the story of poor Werther, and here present it to you, knowing
that you will thank me for it. To his spirit and character you
cannot refuse your admiration and love: to his fate you will not
deny your tears.
And thou, good soul, who sufferest the same distress as he endured
once, draw comfort from his sorrows; and let this little book be
thy friend, if, owing to fortune or through thine own fault, thou
canst not find a dearer companion.
BOOK I
MAY 4.
How happy I am that I am gone! My dear friend, what a thing is
the heart of man! To leave you, from whom I have been inseparable,
whom I love so dearly, and yet to feel happy! I know you will
forgive me. Have not other attachments been specially appointed
by fate to torment a head like mine? Poor Leonora! and yet I was
not to blame. Was it my fault, that, whilst the peculiar charms
of her sister afforded me an agreeable entertainment, a passion
for me was engendered in her feeble heart? And yet am I wholly
blameless? Did I not encourage her emotions? Did I not feel
charmed at those truly genuine expressions of nature, which, though
but little mirthful in reality, so often amused us? Did I not --
but oh! what is man, that he dares so to accuse himself? My dear
friend I promise you I will improve; I will no longer, as has ever
been my habit, continue to ruminate on every petty vexation which
fortune may dispense; I will enjoy the present, and the past shall
be for me the past. No doubt you are right, my best of friends,
there would be far less suffering amongst mankind, if men -- and
God knows why they are so fashioned -- did not employ their
imaginations so assiduously in recalling the memory of past sorrow,
instead of bearing their present lot with equanimity. Be kind
enough to inform my mother that I shall attend to her business to
the best of my ability, and shall give her the earliest information
about it. I have seen my aunt, and find that she is very far from
being the disagreeable person our friends allege her to be. She
is a lively, cheerful woman, with the best of hearts. I explained
to her my mother's wrongs with regard to that part of her portion
which has been withheld from her. She told me the motives and
reasons of her own conduct, and the terms on which she is willing
to give up the whole, and to do more than we have asked. In short,
I cannot write further upon this subject at present; only assure
my mother that all will go on well. And I have again observed,
my dear friend, in this trifling affair, that misunderstandings
and neglect occasion more mischief in the world than even malice
and wickedness. At all events, the two latter are of less frequent
occurrence.
In other respects I am very well off here. Solitude in this
terrestrial paradise is a genial balm to my mind, and the young
spring cheers with its bounteous promises my oftentimes misgiving
heart. Every tree, every bush, is full of flowers; and one might
wish himself transformed into a butterfly, to float about in this
ocean of perfume, and find his whole existence in it.
The town itself is disagreeable; but then, all around, you find an
inexpressible beauty of nature. This induced the late Count M to
lay out a garden on one of the sloping hills which here intersect
each other with the most charming variety, and form the most lovely
valleys. The garden is simple; and it is easy to perceive, even
upon your first entrance, that the plan was not designed by a
scientific gardener, but by a man who wished to give himself up
here to the enjoyment of his own sensitive heart. Many a tear
have I already shed to the memory of its departed master in a
summer-house which is now reduced to ruins, but was his favourite
resort, and now is mine. I shall soon be master of the place.
The gardener has become attached to me within the last few days,
and he will lose nothing thereby.
MAY 10.
A wonderful serenity has taken possession of my entire soul, like
these sweet mornings of spring which I enjoy with my whole heart.
I am alone, and feel the charm of existence in this spot, which
was created for the bliss of souls like mine. I am so happy, my
dear friend, so absorbed in the exquisite sense of mere tranquil
existence, that I neglect my talents. I should be incapable of
drawing a single stroke at the present moment; and yet I feel that
I never was a greater artist than now. When, while the lovely valley
teems with vapour around me, and the meridian sun strikes the upper
surface of the impenetrable foliage of my trees, and but a few stray
gleams steal into the inner sanctuary, I throw myself down among the
tall grass by the trickling stream; and, as I lie close to the earth,
a thousand unknown plants are noticed by me: when I hear the buzz of
the little world among the stalks, and grow familiar with the countless
indescribable forms of the insects and flies, then I feel the presence
of the Almighty, who formed us in his own image, and the breath of
that universal love which bears and sustains us, as it floats around
us in an eternity of bliss; and then, my friend, when darkness overspreads
my eyes, and heaven and earth seem to dwell in my soul and absorb its
power, like the form of a beloved mistress, then I often think with
longing, Oh, would I could describe these conceptions, could impress
upon paper all that is living so full and warm within me, that it might
be the mirror of my soul, as my soul is the mirror of the infinite
God! O my friend -- but it is too much for my strength -- I sink
under the weight of the splendour of these visions!
MAY 12.
I know not whether some deceitful spirits haunt this spot, or
whether it be the warm, celestial fancy in my own heart which
makes everything around me seem like paradise. In front of the
house is a fountain, -- a fountain to which I am bound by a charm
like Melusina and her sisters. Descending a gentle slope, you come
to an arch, where, some twenty steps lower down, water of the
clearest crystal gushes from the marble rock. The narrow wall which
encloses it above, the tall trees which encircle the spot, and the
coolness of the place itself, -- everything imparts a pleasant but
sublime impression. Not a day passes on which I do not spend an
hour there. The young maidens come from the town to fetch water,
-- innocent and necessary employment, and formerly the occupation of
the daughters of kings. As I take my rest there, the idea of the old
patriarchal life is awakened around me. I see them, our old ancestors,
how they formed their friendships and contracted alliances at the
fountain-side; and I feel how fountains and streams were guarded by
beneficent spirits. He who is a stranger to these sensations has
never really enjoyed cool repose at the side of a fountain after the
fatigue of a weary summer day.
MAY 13.
You ask if you shall send me books. My dear friend, I beseech you,
for the love of God, relieve me from such a yoke! I need no more
to be guided, agitated, heated. My heart ferments sufficiently of
itself. I want strains to lull me, and I find them to perfection
in my Homer. Often do I strive to allay the burning fever of my
blood; and you have never witnessed anything so unsteady, so
uncertain, as my heart. But need I confess this to you, my dear
friend, who have so often endured the anguish of witnessing my
sudden transitions from sorrow to immoderate joy, and from sweet
melancholy to violent passions? I treat my poor heart like a sick
child, and gratify its every fancy. Do not mention this again:
there are people who would censure me for it.
MAY 15.
The common people of the place know me already, and love me,
particularly the children. When at first I associated with them,
and inquired in a friendly tone about their various trifles, some
fancied that I wished to ridicule them, and turned from me in
exceeding ill-humour. I did not allow that circumstance to grieve
me: I only felt most keenly what I have often before observed.
Persons who can claim a certain rank keep themselves coldly aloof
from the common people, as though they feared to lose their importance
by the contact; whilst wanton idlers, and such as are prone to bad
joking, affect to descend to their level, only to make the poor
people feel their impertinence all the more keenly.
I know very well that we are not all equal, nor can be so; but it
is my opinion that he who avoids the common people, in order not
to lose their respect, is as much to blame as a coward who hides
himself from his enemy because he fears defeat.
The other day I went to the fountain, and found a young servant-girl,
who had set her pitcher on the lowest step, and looked around to
see if one of her companions was approaching to place it on her
head. I ran down, and looked at her. "Shall I help you, pretty
lass?" said I. She blushed deeply. "Oh, sir!" she exclaimed.
"No ceremony!" I replied. She adjusted her head-gear, and I
helped her. She thanked me, and ascended the steps.
MAY 17.
I have made all sorts of acquaintances, but have as yet found no
society. I know not what attraction I possess for the people, so
many of them like me, and attach themselves to me; and then I feel
sorry when the road we pursue together goes only a short distance.
If you inquire what the people are like here, I must answer, "The
same as everywhere." The human race is but a monotonous affair.
Most of them labour the greater part of their time for mere
subsistence; and the scanty portion of freedom which remains to
them so troubles them that they use every exertion to get rid of
it. Oh, the destiny of man!
But they are a right good sort of people. If I occasionally forget
myself, and take part in the innocent pleasures which are not yet
forbidden to the peasantry, and enjoy myself, for instance, with
genuine freedom and sincerity, round a well-covered table, or
arrange an excursion or a dance opportunely, and so forth, all
this produces a good effect upon my disposition; only I must forget
that there lie dormant within me so many other qualities which
moulder uselessly, and which I am obliged to keep carefully concealed.
Ah! this thought affects my spirits fearfully. And yet to be
misunderstood is the fate of the like of us.
Alas, that the friend of my youth is gone! Alas, that I ever knew
her! I might say to myself, "You are a dreamer to seek what is
not to be found here below." But she has been mine. I have
possessed that heart, that noble soul, in whose presence I seemed
to be more than I really was, because I was all that I could be.
Good heavens! did then a single power of my soul remain unexercised?
In her presence could I not display, to its full extent, that
mysterious feeling with which my heart embraces nature? Was not
our intercourse a perpetual web of the finest emotions, of the
keenest wit, the varieties of which, even in their very eccentricity,
bore the stamp of genius? Alas! the few years by which she was
my senior brought her to the grave before me. Never can I forget
her firm mind or her heavenly patience.
A few days ago I met a certain young V--, a frank, open fellow,
with a most pleasing countenance. He has just left the university,
does not deem himself overwise, but believes he knows more than
other people. He has worked hard, as I can perceive from many
circumstances, and, in short, possesses a large stock of information.
When he heard that I am drawing a good deal, and that I know Greek
(two wonderful things for this part of the country), he came to
see me, and displayed his whole store of learning, from Batteaux
to Wood, from De Piles to Winkelmann: he assured me he had read
through the first part of Sultzer's theory, and also possessed a
manuscript of Heyne's work on the study of the antique. I allowed
it all to pass.
I have become acquainted, also, with a very worthy person, the
district judge, a frank and open-hearted man. I am told it is a
most delightful thing to see him in the midst of his children, of
whom he has nine. His eldest daughter especially is highly spoken
of. He has invited me to go and see him, and I intend to do so
on the first opportunity. He lives at one of the royal hunting-lodges,
which can be reached from here in an hour and a half by walking,
and which he obtained leave to inhabit after the loss of his wife,
as it is so painful to him to reside in town and at the court.
There have also come in my way a few other originals of a questionable
sort, who are in all respects undesirable, and most intolerable
in their demonstration of friendship. Good-bye. This letter will
please you: it is quite historical.
MAY 22.
That the life of man is but a dream, many a man has surmised
heretofore; and I, too, am everywhere pursued by this feeling.
When I consider the narrow limits within which our active and
inquiring faculties are confined; when I see how all our energies
are wasted in providing for mere necessities, which again have no
further end than to prolong a wretched existence; and then that
all our satisfaction concerning certain subjects of investigation
ends in nothing better than a passive resignation, whilst we amuse
ourselves painting our prison-walls with bright figures and brilliant
landscapes, -- when I consider all this, Wilhelm, I am silent.
I examine my own being, and find there a world, but a world rather
of imagination and dim desires, than of distinctness and living
power. Then everything swims before my senses, and I smile and
dream while pursuing my way through the world.
All learned professors and doctors are agreed that children do not
comprehend the cause of their desires; but that the grown-up should
wander about this earth like children, without knowing whence they
come, or whither they go, influenced as little by fixed motives,
but guided like them by biscuits, sugar-plums, and the rod, -- this
is what nobody is willing to acknowledge; and yet I think it is
palpable.
I know what you will say in reply; for I am ready to admit that
they are happiest, who, like children, amuse themselves with their
playthings, dress and undress their dolls, and attentively watch
the cupboard, where mamma has locked up her sweet things, and,
when at last they get a delicious morsel, eat it greedily, and
exclaim, "More!" These are certainly happy beings; but others
also are objects of envy, who dignify their paltry employments,
and sometimes even their passions, with pompous titles, representing
them to mankind as gigantic achievements performed for their welfare
and glory. But the man who humbly acknowledges the vanity of all
this, who observes with what pleasure the thriving citizen converts
his little garden into a paradise, and how patiently even the poor
man pursues his weary way under his burden, and how all wish equally
to behold the light of the sun a little longer, -- yes, such a man
is at peace, and creates his own world within himself; and he is
also happy, because he is a man. And then, however limited his
sphere, he still preserves in his bosom the sweet feeling of liberty,
and knows that he can quit his prison whenever he likes.
MAY 26.
You know of old my ways of settling anywhere, of selecting a little
cottage in some cosy spot, and of putting up in it with every
inconvenience. Here, too, I have discovered such a snug, comfortable
place, which possesses peculiar charms for me.
About a league from the town is a place called Walheim. (The reader
need not take the trouble to look for the place thus designated.
We have found it necessary to change the names given in the original.)
It is delightfully situated on the side of a hill; and, by proceeding
along one of the footpaths which lead out of the village, you can
have a view of the whole valley. A good old woman lives there,
who keeps a small inn. She sells wine, beer, and coffee, and is
cheerful and pleasant notwithstanding her age. The chief charm
of this spot consists in two linden-trees, spreading their enormous
branches over the little green before the church, which is entirely
surrounded by peasants' cottages, barns, and homesteads. I have
seldom seen a place so retired and peaceable; and there often have
my table and chair brought out from the little inn, and drink my
coffee there, and read my Homer. Accident brought me to the spot
one fine afternoon, and I found it perfectly deserted. Everybody
was in the fields except a little boy about four years of age, who
was sitting on the ground, and held between his knees a child about
six months old: he pressed it to his bosom with both arms, which
thus formed a sort of arm-chair; and, notwithstanding the liveliness
which sparkled in its black eyes, it remained perfectly still.
The sight charmed me. I sat down upon a plough opposite, and
sketched with great delight this little picture of brotherly
tenderness. I added the neighbouring hedge, the barn-door, and
some broken cart-wheels, just as they happened to lie; and I found
in about an hour that I had made a very correct and interesting
drawing, without putting in the slightest thing of my own. This
confirmed me in my resolution of adhering, for the future, entirely
to nature. She alone is inexhaustible, and capable of forming the
greatest masters. Much may be alleged in favour of rules, as much
may be likewise advanced in favour of the laws of society: an
artist formed upon them will never produce anything absolutely bad
or disgusting; as a man who observes the laws, and obeys decorum,
can never be an absolutely intolerable neighbour, nor a decided
villain: but yet, say what you will of rules, they destroy the
genuine feeling of nature, as well as its true expression. Do not
tell me "that this is too hard, that they only restrain and prune
superfluous branches, etc." My good friend, I will illustrate
this by an analogy. These things resemble love. A warmhearted
youth becomes strongly attached to a maiden: he spends every hour
of the day in her company, wears out his health, and lavishes his
fortune, to afford continual proof that he is wholly devoted to
her. Then comes a man of the world, a man of place and respectability,
and addresses him thus: "My good young friend, love is natural;
but you must love within bounds. Divide your time: devote a portion
to business, and give the hours of recreation to your mistress.
Calculate your fortune; and out of the superfluity you may make
her a present, only not too often, -- on her birthday, and such
occasions." Pursuing this advice, he may become a useful member
of society, and I should advise every prince to give him an
appointment; but it is all up with his love, and with his genius
if he be an artist. O my friend! why is it that the torrent of
genius so seldom bursts forth, so seldom rolls in full-flowing
stream, overwhelming your astounded soul? Because, on either side
of this stream, cold and respectable persons have taken up their
abodes, and, forsooth, their summer-houses and tulip-beds would
suffer from the torrent; wherefore they dig trenches, and raise
embankments betimes, in order to avert the impending danger.
MAY 27.
I find I have fallen into raptures, declamation, and similes, and
have forgotten, in consequence, to tell you what became of the
children. Absorbed in my artistic contemplations, which I briefly
described in my letter of yesterday, I continued sitting on the
plough for two hours. Toward evening a young woman, with a basket
on her arm, came running toward the children, who had not moved
all that time. She exclaimed from a distance, "You are a good
boy, Philip!" She gave me greeting: I returned it, rose, and
approached her. I inquired if she were the mother of those pretty
children. "Yes," she said; and, giving the eldest a piece of
bread, she took the little one in her arms and kissed it with a
mother's tenderness. "I left my child in Philip's care," she said,
"whilst I went into the town with my eldest boy to buy some wheaten
bread, some sugar, and an earthen pot." I saw the various articles
in the basket, from which the cover had fallen. "I shall make
some broth to-night for my little Hans (which was the name of the
youngest): that wild fellow, the big one, broke my pot yesterday,
whilst he was scrambling with Philip for what remained of the
contents." I inquired for the eldest; and she bad scarcely time
to tell me that he was driving a couple of geese home from the
meadow, when he ran up, and handed Philip an osier-twig. I talked
a little longer with the woman, and found that she was the daughter
of the schoolmaster, and that her husband was gone on a journey
into Switzerland for some money a relation had left him. "They
wanted to cheat him," she said, "and would not answer his letters;
so he is gone there himself. I hope he has met with no accident,
as I have heard nothing of him since his departure." I left the
woman, with regret, giving each of the children a kreutzer, with
an additional one for the youngest, to buy some wheaten bread for
his broth when she went to town next; and so we parted. I assure
you, my dear friend, when my thoughts are all in tumult, the sight
of such a creature as this tranquillises my disturbed mind. She
moves in a happy thoughtlessness within the confined circle of her
existence; she supplies her wants from day to day; and, when she
sees the leaves fall, they raise no other idea in her mind than
that winter is approaching. Since that time I have gone out there
frequently. The children have become quite familiar with me; and
each gets a lump of sugar when I drink my coffee, and they share
my milk and bread and butter in the evening. They always receive
their kreutzer on Sundays, for the good woman has orders to give
it to them when I do not go there after evening service. They are
quite at home with me, tell me everything; and I am particularly
amused with observing their tempers, and the simplicity of their
behaviour, when some of the other village children are assembled
with them.
It has given me a deal of trouble to satisfy the anxiety of the
mother, lest (as she says) "they should inconvenience the gentleman."
MAY 30.
What I have lately said of painting is equally true with respect
to poetry. It is only necessary for us to know what is really
excellent, and venture to give it expression; and that is saying
much in few words. To-day I have had a scene, which, if literally
related, would, make the most beautiful idyl in the world. But
why should I talk of poetry and scenes and idyls? Can we never
take pleasure in nature without having recourse to art?
If you expect anything grand or magnificent from this introduction,
you will be sadly mistaken. It relates merely to a peasant-lad,
who has excited in me the warmest interest. As usual, I shall
tell my story badly; and you, as usual, will think me extravagant.
It is Walheim once more -- always Walheim -- which produces these
wonderful phenomena.
A party had assembled outside the house under the linden-trees,
to drink coffee. The company did not exactly please me; and, under
one pretext or another, I lingered behind.
A peasant came from an adjoining house, and set to work arranging
some part of the same plough which I had lately sketched. His
appearance pleased me; and I spoke to him, inquired about his
circumstances, made his acquaintance, and, as is my wont with
persons of that class, was soon admitted into his confidence. He
said he was in the service of a young widow, who set great store
by him. He spoke so much of his mistress, and praised her so
extravagantly, that I could soon see he was desperately in love
with her. "She is no longer young," he said: "and she was treated
so badly by her former husband that she does not mean to marry
again." From his account it was so evident what incomparable
charms she possessed for him, and how ardently he wished she would
select him to extinguish the recollection of her first husband's
misconduct, that I should have to repeat his own words in order
to describe the depth of the poor fellow's attachment, truth, and
devotion. It would, in fact, require the gifts of a great poet
to convey the expression of his features, the harmony of his voice,
and the heavenly fire of his eye. No words can portray the
tenderness of his every movement and of every feature: no effort
of mine could do justice to the scene. His alarm lest I should
misconceive his position with regard to his mistress, or question
the propriety of her conduct, touched me particularly. The charming
manner with which he described her form and person, which, without
possessing the graces of youth, won and attached him to her, is
inexpressible, and must be left to the imagination. I have never
in my life witnessed or fancied or conceived the possibility of
such intense devotion, such ardent affections, united with so much
purity. Do not blame me if I say that the recollection of this
innocence and truth is deeply impressed upon my very soul; that
this picture of fidelity and tenderness haunts me everywhere; and
that my own heart, as though enkindled by the flame, glows and
burns within me.
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