SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 FKOM THE GERMAN OF 
 
 BARON GOETHE 
 
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 'RA NSL ATION, REVISED AND COMPARER WIT. 
 ., " ALL TH« FORMER EDITIONS. 
 
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 DRUS, G^UNTLETT, <k CO. 
 
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THE 
 
 SORROWS 
 
 OF 
 
 WERTER. 
 
 f ROM THE GERMAN 
 OP 
 
 BARON GOETHE. 
 
 — — 
 A NEW TRANSLATION, 
 
 REVISED AND COMPARED WITH ALL THE 
 FORMER EDITIONS. 
 
 ' ITHACA. N. Y. : 
 PUBLISHED BY ANDRUS, GAUNTLETT, & CO., 
 
 No. 69 OWEGO STREET. 
 
I . - 
 
 PRE F A C & 
 
 FEW publications of the novel kind have enjoyed 
 more celebrity tliati the one before us. It was origi- 
 nally translated from the German into French, and 
 thence into English ; since that it has been done 
 Groin the German. There is occasionally a discor 
 dance between those rival productions, and many 
 parts have been misconceived, or added to, by the 
 ingenuity of the translators. The present edition 
 has been printed with a view to combine not only 
 the real force and sentiment of Werter, as they are 
 given by Mr. Goethe, but as a more perfect model of 
 the author's maimer, which has been much perverted, 
 and often misconceived. 
 
 It is evident that Mr. Goethe is much attached to 
 the simple scene of domestic life and rural scenery, 
 many of which are here drawn with the most inte 
 resting and masterly hand. He esteems the Vicar 
 of Wakefield for this cause, though the characters of 
 the heroes are drawn diametrically opposite. It has 
 been objected to in this work that Mr. Goethe is the 
 champion of suicide. The Reader will best judge 
 
mm 
 
 IV PREFACE 
 
 how far this is true or not. Certain it appears thai 
 Albert's arguments in reply to Werter on this head, 
 are weak, compared to those of his antagonist : but 
 it must be considered that it is the history of Werler 
 which is written, and that it was not the in Cult ion to 
 convince him, by the force of Albert's arguments, of 
 the gross absurdity and cowardice of that practice 
 to which his irritable and romantic mind constantly 
 tended. Werter was amiable, but he was weak ; he 
 had a strong mind in certain particulars; but if was 
 in others little better than a lucid insanity, lie loved 
 where religion and prudence forbade his Mission, 
 and died in conformity to that erroneous reasoning 
 which made him pursue Charlotte, when, in the first 
 instance, he was infonuea she v. as devoted to 'tino- 
 iher. 
 
THE 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 LETTER I. 
 
 May 4, 1770. 
 
 NO longer do we behold each other : we are sepa- 
 rated, and 1 feel pleased at it — To me it is a matte? 
 of astonishment, that I could tear myself from him 
 who was the juvenile friend of my early days, who 
 is even now my other self ; he, whose internal com- 
 position is fashioned like my own. How incon- 
 sistently are we morally formed ! — Seeking rest 
 where it is not to be found. — Your goodness I know 
 will overlook this opinion; but it seems to me that 
 Destiny has inevitably placed my brightest pros- 
 pects in the back ground, and turned into misery 
 the most certain assurances of earthly bliss. — Oh ! 
 poor Leonora !"* — The soft and generous passion, 
 which stole into her gentle bosom, cannot be al- 
 leged against me ; when I made an avowal of my 
 sense of her Aster's perfections : but I am not cer- 
 tain of being altogether guiltless. — Is it not proba- 
 ble that T may have nurtured the passion she felt, 
 by those testimonies of admiration and pleasure 
 which I evinced at the little expressions of atten- 
 tion she displayed towards me. — Alas, how ready 
 are we to place ideal terrors in our own footpath ! 
 But let me not cherish these reasonings ! — No; but 
 
 * She was the first love of Werter, and died at Brunswick. 
 Werter was so deeply wounded at her death, that he directly 
 ■tfter withdrew to Wetzlar. 
 
2 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 rather turn to another view, and abandoning the re- 
 trospect of what is past, and ceasing to grieve at 
 the ills inseparable from this mortal existence, let 
 me forget them all, and taste the present moments. — 
 My friend advises this — and it is just — since the re- 
 collection of that which has given us pain, serves 
 only to augment the anguish of the wretched past. 
 
 Please to inform my mother that her affairs shall 
 be punctually attended to, and that I will soon send 
 her information respecting them. — From a closer 
 view of my aunt, I do not find her so unreasonable 
 as report has spoken ; she is possessed of violent 
 passions, but has a friendly soul. — You know that 
 my mother's estate has been for a long time in dis- 
 pute ; but my aunt is not deserving of blame ; and 
 has named the terms on which she is willing to sur- 
 render up — even more than was requested. You 
 may inform her that this affair cannot wear any other 
 than the most favourable aspect for her interest. 
 Hence, my friend, I am decidedly of opinion that 
 inattention and misconception are the sources of 
 more strife with mankind than villany or deception; 
 or what is equivalent, that the consequences of the 
 former are more generally felt. 
 
 I am perfectly comfortable here — Placed in this 
 earthly elysium, I taste that sanative balm of a 
 wounded soul, that serene solitude so endearing to 
 the unhappy ! — My heart swells with the spring, and 
 my frame is full of energy. The trees feel the ge- 
 nial embrace of nature — the air is filled with her 
 purest perfumes — the winged choir salute the dawn, 
 and at evening Philomel warbles forth her monody 
 to the departing light ! — How much to me are the 
 town and country at variance ! The former is full of 
 insipidity, but in the environs of the latter abound 
 the luxuriant beauties of nature ! — The neat and 
 tasteful garden of the late Marquis of Mobley is 
 situated on one of the hills which enrich these rural 
 scenes ; and at a first view one may be assured, that 
 
SORROWS OP WERTER. 
 
 3 
 
 the manner in which it is laid out, is the work not 
 of the mere gardener, but of one whose mind has 
 been superior to the common rules of horticulture. 
 Here is erected a tomb, shaded by an arbour, but 
 now little visited, and going to decay. On this spot 
 have I shecf some tears to the memory of its deceased 
 ossessor. — It was formerly his favourite retreat — I 
 ave copied him, and made it mine ; I hope to be 
 his successor ; and I have applied for that purpose 
 to the gardener, whose civilities I mean to engage 
 by a suitable behaviour. 
 
 LETTER II. 
 
 May 10. 
 
 MY mind, like the unruffled spring morning, is 
 now all calmness and serenity ; and hence the sweets 
 of my solitude are increased. It is now, in scenes 
 congenial to a soul constructed like mine, that I be- 
 gin to exist. — In the pleasures of this umbrageous 
 retreat, I rather live than act; for all my former 
 studies and pastimes lie neglected and unthought 
 of. — The pencil has become torpid ; but yet I am a 
 better painter than before — When the misty vapours 
 sparkle in watery drops on the leafy boughs ; and 
 the deep shade of the thick foliage only emits a few 
 faint streams of light and heat from the meridian 
 fire, it is my delight to saunter beneath the arched 
 shelter ; then the tall grass forms my couch, and 
 stretched out on the bank of the rippling streamlet, 
 I contemplate the great varieties of nature — her in- 
 numerable productions, and the myriads of insect 
 beings who live in and exist upon them. How little 
 did I once value those things — they now excite all 
 my attention ; they boldly declare to me that a ce- 
 lestial arm has placed us in existence, and that an 
 immortal omniscience upholds the world ! — At night, 
 when darkness closes these beauties to my view, I 
 paint on my imagination all that I have admired — all 
 
4 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 the wonderful works of nature, and my tongue bur3t8 
 forth into the.ejaculations of gratitude and piety ! — 
 for the recollections they engender, like the portrait 
 of an adored mistress, pregnant with the sweetest 
 heartsprings of joy ! My friend ! — I ardently wish 
 that my powers of utterance could equal the force 
 of my imagination — and that my paper could exhibit 
 the extent of the feelings within, — alas! words are 
 but insignificant representatives of such sublime con- 
 ceptions, the magnitude of which confound and over- 
 whelm the soul ! 
 
 LETTER III. 
 
 May 12. 
 
 ALL that surrounds me is a celestial Eden — and 
 either influenced by some invisible agent of enchant- 
 ment, or my soul is alive to the most pleasing emo- 
 tions. I sit, irresistibly attracted by the side of a 
 clear spring which gurgles from a rocky bed, placed 
 about twenty steps down in a cave at the foot of the 
 hill. An old ivied wall encloses it — tall pines form 
 its canopy — invigorating zephyrs fan it — Murmurs 
 steal from its bosom — the tenants of the leafy sprays 
 tune their symphonies to its falls — what a collection 
 of causes to inspire the soul with the most elevated 
 sensations ! — Every day I spend an hour in this se- 
 questered spot, to which the lasses from the city 
 repair to fill their water vessels — an innocent and 
 useful occupation, once the delight and custom of 
 the daughters of monarch s. — This idea leads my 
 fancy back to the customs of remote ages, when I 
 think I see our ancestors, directed by the invisible 
 operation of benign spirits, entering into compacts, 
 and forming alliances by the fountain side ; — here 
 too I survey the weary pilgrim, faint with the heat 
 of summer, reclining on the verdant bank, or bathing 
 in the pure refreshing stream. Surely, my friend, 
 everv one must have similar sentiments and feelinga 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 5 
 
 so mine ; or he can never have tasted the reviving 
 Deverage of a pellucid fountain, after the thirst which 
 parches in a tedious summer's walk. 
 
 LETTER IV. 
 
 May 13. 
 
 YOU propose to send rne books ! — No, my dear 
 friend : I acknowledge with gratitude your kind in- 
 tention ; and as earnestly must desire you to decline 
 it ; so many causes have agitated and influenced my 
 mind, that I am now only covetous of liberty, and 
 the unshackled possession of my inward cogitation 
 —of melancholy melting strains, such as I find in 
 women. — Frequently have I strove to soothe the 
 violence of my raging phrensies — to curb the furious 
 burstings of my bosom; — you have often witnessed 
 these laudable attempts to subdue the sudden tran- 
 sitions of my nature — you have seen mc alternately 
 dejected, and bounding with rapture ; at this mo- 
 ment sunk in softest sorrow — in the next agitated 
 with storms ! — As the ailing infant claims indul- 
 gence, so does this heart; — yet 1 blush to acknow- 
 ledge that which the world would deservedly censure 
 as a weakness ; for he is certainly entitled to con- 
 tempt who surfers his passions to lord it over his 
 reason ! 
 
 LETTER V. 
 
 May 15. 
 
 I BEGIN to be respected by the people about 
 here, and beloved by all the infant race but at first 
 they seemed rudely shy, and doubted if my conver- 
 sation was not a mask to some unfair purpose ; — I, 
 however, saw no derogation in endeavouring to win 
 their smiles, and hence confirmed one of those re- 
 marks which have several times occurred to me, that 
 the great have too much predilection for keeping 
 the little at a distance, as if there resulted a conta- 
 «nnous taint from too near an approximation. — Ig 
 
e 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 not this a trait of hollow pride ? — How inconsistent 
 is it to see the noble at one moment making free 
 with the plebeian, at another treating him with sar- 
 casm and contempt. — We cannot, it is true, be all 
 equal in this present state ; but much, very much 
 in error is that man whose dignity and delights are 
 founded on the distance at which he keeps his 
 neighbour — the principle resembles that of a cow- 
 ard, who avoids his enemy from the fear of meeting 
 him. 
 
 In visiting my fountain one day, I saw a young 
 woman on the last step, who had filled her pail, and 
 was waiting for one of her companions to help her 
 up with it. — I directly descended, and said, " Let 
 me, my dear, assist you!" — With cheeks that 
 blushed as deeply as her lips, she modestly replied, 
 "O dear, no, Sir," — but T, regardless of her dissent, 
 raised the pail to her head — her smile said more 
 than the longest speech, and I was more than repaid 
 for the little aid I had given. 
 
 LETTER VI. 
 
 May 17. 
 
 I HAVE already made a great many acquaint 
 ances, but none with whom I form a society. — The 
 people of the place arc very much attached to me, 
 but why I cannot tell : — they are desirous of sharing 
 in my walks, and hence I feel sorry when we are 
 forced to separate. — In reply to your question, re- 
 specting the sort of people I meet with here, I can 
 only say, that they are of the same kind which 
 every other place produces. — The work of nature in 
 this respect is extremely uniform; all the difference 
 originates in circumstances. By far the larger mass 
 of mankind are compelled to toil through the longest 
 part of their lives for a poor pittance, and what re 
 mains unoccupied, seems so tedious, that they with 
 as great industry dispose of it another way- -this is 
 the" lot of mortals ! — Yet do net think that I am out 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 of humour with my newly acquired companions. — 
 No ! Let the haughty think that I am letting myself 
 down ; while in reality I am 7'ising above them, by 
 becoming a guest at the cheerful tabic, where a sin- 
 cere welcome and innocent mirth preside, or by 
 taking a walk, a dance, or joining in their festive 
 sport, when it suits my humour : sometimes indeed 
 it abridges the pleasure I should otherwise feel, 
 when I am compelled to avoid them, that they may 
 be less conscious of their inferior endowments ; — 
 then follows the dear remembrance of my deceased 
 friend (Leonora,) the friend of my younger years — 
 the friend whom I have known only to weep for — 
 How bitter is the thought! Every thing flourished 
 while she lived ; but, alas ! now she is cut down, 
 and confined to the silent grave, while I am left. — 
 The world is to me a desert — but hold — enough of 
 this ! 
 
 A few days back the accomplished Mr. B , 
 
 and I fell into company. He is a young man, pos 
 sessed of a pleasing countenance, and has recently 
 quitted the college of Upsal ; he is learned without 
 ostentation, and I am certain cannot be ignorant of 
 his advantage over many with whom he is familiar ; 
 3'et I think his genius is not so great as his intense 
 study. Directly he knew that I was acquainted 
 with the Greek, and an admirer of the pencil, he 
 came to see me: these acquirements are looked upon 
 as miracles in this uninformed place. — As our con- 
 versation expanded, he displayed his whole stock of 
 erudition, with the authors whom he had studied. 
 He said he had read the first part of Saltzer's Theory, 
 and had by him a MS. of Heynes on the Study of 
 Antiquities : — for these reasons the time he staid 
 passed on very agreeably. 
 
 Here is also another excellent character, whose 
 company I have obtained : He is a steward to the 
 prince, and of a mind sufficiently liberal and ele- 
 vated to demand the esteem of every one. His 
 
I 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 eldest daughter (Charlotte) is considered as an excel- 
 lent girl. He has nine children, and report speaks 
 highly of the innocent scene when he is surrounded 
 by his sportive cherubs. — He has pressed me to visit 
 him, and I do not intend that his kindness shall be 
 lost upon me. — He dwells about a league and a half 
 off, in a neat country box, a present from the prince 
 on the decease of his beloved lady, that his melan- 
 choly might be diverted by a change of residence. 
 Here also I have encountered several empty charac- 
 ters, who form a disgusting contrast to those I have 
 enumerated : — some have thrust themselves into my 
 private retirement, and others have been as nauseat- 
 ing by overstrained ceremony and unscught-for offers 
 of service. 
 
 LETTER VII. 
 
 May 22. 
 
 HUMAN existence is said to be a dream, and I 
 accord with the opinion, if I take a survey of the 
 narrow limits by which the busy mind of man is 
 bounded : if I consider that he exerts ail Iiis ener- 
 gies to obtain support, as the means of prolonging 
 his miserable life, that his wishes to be better in- 
 formed terminate in a blind submission, and that his 
 greatest enjoyment is to decorate the sides of his 
 prison with fanciful images and delusive landscapes, 
 notwithstanding the boundary he is chained to is so 
 close to his sight: these are rejections, my friend, 
 which check my impulse ! — I commence a deeper 
 train of thought, and prcbe the breast — and what do 
 I obtain ? — Still shadows which are imaginary — mere 
 idle superstitions, mere empty fancies, but nothir g 
 of certainty, of stability, and of truth — All is a 
 chaos; but I float down the current of folly, which 
 bears the rest of the world along, and this adds to 
 the number of dosing idiots — It seems to be agreed 
 among the learned that children are not guided by 
 motives ; but they cannot admit, though to me it ap 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 pears a self-evident fact, that full-groion infants, as 
 well as when they were in childhood, pass on through 
 their existence, alike uninformed of their origin and 
 destination, and without any concerted rule of con- 
 duct, except the prospect of reward, or the fear of 
 punishment ; or they are influenced, like them, by 
 the operation of a tart or a rod.— It is easy to foresee 
 what my friend will urge in answer, and I am will- 
 ing to admit that those mortals taste the most pure 
 enjoyment who, like children, never think of the fu- 
 ture, but are satisfied at the present moment with a 
 feast and a toy; who cry for what they want, and as 
 soon as they have got it, cry for more — Happy souls 
 who are gratified with trifles ! — But some are c»rved ? 
 because the natural bent of their minds is indulged 
 with paltry authorities and high-sounding titles ! 
 who hold themselves to be deities among mortals,— 
 the lords of the universe ! — He, however, who knows 
 the real value of all sublunary things, who feels his 
 own insignificance, appreciates the folly of all this, 
 and observes with an appropriate greatness of soul 
 that the wealthy, whose aim is to make the present 
 world their paradise, and the indigent, whose 
 daily employment is to toil for the wants of life, 
 are alike interested in endeavouring to obtain a 
 longer view of that scene, under which they are so 
 differently supported. — Yet he may rest in peace, 
 happy in possessing the title of a man, who al- 
 though his circle is contracted here, is sensible he 
 enjoys in mind the consoling assurance of liberty, 
 which, when his imprisonment is the most op- 
 pressive, furnishes him with a key that can unlock 
 (he gate of his dungeon. 
 
 LETTER VIII. 
 
 May 26. 
 
 YOU hai r e heard me say that certain places are 
 more pleasant to me than others. I mean the re- 
 treats ©f solitude ; that I like to wander among such 
 B 
 
TO 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER 
 
 scenes, and adapt ihem to my particular inclina- 
 tion. There is a cottage here which quite coincides 
 with my wishes, and is situated about a league from 
 the city, in the district of Walheim, on the ascent 
 of a most luxuriant hill, which commands a pros- 
 pect of the whole adjacent country. There is also 
 a good old landlady, of an eccentric disposition, to 
 whom I must be indebted for my liquors, and coffee, 
 and tea. What, however, gives my eye a great 
 pleasure is, two lime-trees, fronting the church, 
 whose wide-spreading branches yield a charming 
 shade to a neat grass-jdot, round which several 
 rural hovels are erected. At my request, the good- 
 natured ancient damo sends me a chair and a table, 
 and thus, in this reflecting retreat, I can sip coffee, 
 and peruse my Homer. I was conducted by chance 
 to this spot, which had been quite neglected till I 
 saw it in one of my afternoon rambles. It was a de- 
 lightful day — the rustics were in a field at labour, 
 and no one but a little boy, about four years old, was 
 there ; he was nursing an infant in its sixth month, 
 clasping the little angel to his bosom, and forming a 
 seat for it on his lap : and though his sharp sloey 
 eyes ran over all the green, he did not once attempt 
 to alter his position, lest he might awaken his infant 
 charge. Attracted by this scene of innocent atten- 
 tion, I took a seat on a plough directly opposite ; 
 and, full of the most pleasing ideas, drew out my 
 pencil and sketched this impressive picture of bro- 
 therly tenderness. To give it a rustic effect, I threw 
 in the view of a distant hedge, a barn-door, and a 
 few implements of agriculture ; I worked at it for an 
 hour, and then found that my sketches had formed 
 a picture of strong character, and masterly arrange- 
 ment, though I had exerted no fancy in forming it. 
 Before this, I had formed a resolution to adhere 
 only to nature, that simple, inexhaustible mistress, 
 who is ever presenting the painter and the poet with 
 something new, and can best augment the esteem of 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 11 
 
 their productions. To lay down rules for these are 
 as inefficacious as those which regulate society ; for, 
 though an artist, it may be concluded, will never dis- 
 grace his canvass by any very bad or offensive pro- 
 duction, any more than the man who is kept in check 
 by the force of laws and the bias of education, will 
 commit any flagrant act against the community or 
 his neighbour:, yet, however strong the argument 
 in support of rules, they are the things which distort 
 and injure the pure unadulterated traits of nature's 
 countenance. You may perhaps urge that rules lop 
 off excrescences and remove deformities — yet are 
 they still the fetters of genius, and the destroyers of 
 those masterly touches which the faults they may 
 correct are b) r no means an adequate compensation 
 for. In a comparison between genius and love, let 
 us suppose, my friend, that a young man, whose 
 mind is attracted by a blooming female, devotes his 
 whole thoughts to the lovely object, pays her every 
 respect, employs all his energies, and urges all his 
 rhetoric, to convince her that she is the sole object 
 of his affection. After this a philosopher enters — 
 one whose character is highly esteemed, and who 
 reasons thus: — Believe me, my young friend, love is 
 a passion which has its source in nature, cut yet it 
 must be kept under by proper restrictions. The 
 time of your sojournment in this mortal state should 
 be usefully employed, and only your idle hours be 
 occupied in courting your mistress. Take care also, 
 that your presents be according to what you can af- 
 ford, and those only at certain intervals. Were the 
 young man capable of embracing this wise counsel, 
 his understanding would be universally commended, 
 but his love would evaporate to a mere vapour! — 
 the fetters which are thus imposed upon the lover 
 equally apply to the painter; he may design mathe- 
 matically, but he will have no sublimity. Genius 
 is a current, the waters of which would inevitably 
 break down its banks, ami astonish the beholder, 
 
12 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 were it not for the obstructions of some narrow- 
 minded artists, who guard the shores, and repel the 
 swelling exuberance ; behind these they have built 
 seats and raised gardens ; yet, depressed by the su- 
 periority of others, they are indebted to moats and 
 dams for the defence of their regular productions, 
 and thus they preserve themselves from destruction 
 by shutting out merit. 
 
 LURED by the fancy I was in for imagery and 
 delineation, I quite lost sight of the narrative I in- 
 tended to proceed with. — 1 remained seated upon 
 the plough, enveloped with those picturesque ideas 
 with which I had filled my epistle. In the evening, 
 a young woman with a small hand-basket came to 
 look after the children, who remained in much the 
 same posture. — " You are a good boy, Philip," she 
 cried out, as she approached. — Seeing that her eye 
 had caught mine, I arose and asked if these charm 
 ing infants were her's ? — she answered with an af 
 firmative nod ; and then drawing out a cake for the 
 elder, she took the babe into her arms, clasped it t<? 
 her bosom, and kissed it with all the fondness of a 
 mother. — "Tins little one, Sir," said she, "I wa? 
 obliged to trust to the care of his brother, while ] 
 went to town with my other son to buy scm<? 
 bread, sugar, and tiiis pipkin to boil the little oneV 
 supper in ; for my eldest rogue cracked the othei 
 yesterday, while contending with Philip about some 
 pudding that was left in it." — This led me to in 
 quire who the eldest son was, and just as she wa? 
 saying that he was driving a few geese home ovei 
 
 bearing in his hand a hazel stick for. his brother. — 
 In conversation I soon learned that she was the 
 daughter of the village schoolmaster, and that her 
 husband, on the death of his uncle, had set off for 
 
 LETTER IX. 
 
 May 27. 
 
 along, and 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 Holland to recover an estate ; adding, as his letters 
 respecting that property were never answered, he 
 suspects all is not fair, and has therefore thought it 
 necessary to undertake the journey, since which I 
 have not heard from him. I felt uncomfortable at 
 parting from this worthy woman, and gave to each 
 of the children a halfpenny to buy a cake, after 
 which we separated. — Believe me, my friend, I 
 know of nothing which can more contribute to lull 
 the disquiet mind to rest, than the view of a being 
 so contented and unassuming; who serenely glides 
 round the limited circle of her sphere ; who makes 
 the present moment, happy, and disregards the past 
 and the future. Night succeeds day without exci- 
 ting her interest, and the autumnal leaves convey no 
 other idea to her mind than the approximation of 
 winter. 
 
 Since the above, I have frequently repaired to the 
 same spot, and have been quite intimate with the 
 little folks — I give them a lump of sugar when I am 
 taking coffee, and at night they partake of my whey 
 and bread and butter. Every Sunday I present each 
 with a creutzcr, and if I should be at my devotion 
 when they come, the hostess has orders to bestow 
 their gratuity; thus I have obtained a high place in 
 their opinion, and am the master of all their little 
 secrets and wishes ! their simplicity is at all times 
 interesting, but more so when they mix with their 
 playmates. — Their attentive parent at first was un 
 easy lest they should intrude ; but I overruled this, 
 and not without some persuasion, at length induced 
 her to let them enjoy themselves with me in their 
 own way, apart from all restraint. 
 
 LETTER X. 
 
 May 30. 
 
 THE opinions which I formerly gave on painting 
 are equally applicable to poetry, in which the chief 
 requisites are a knowledge of the beautiful, clothed 
 Bb 
 
14 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 in an appropriate verbal dress. A subject has 
 offered itself to me this day which would make ex- 
 cellent materials for an eclogue ; but why are de- 
 scriptive or pastoral pieces to be told only in rhyme ? 
 Are the wonders of nature to be confined solely to 
 verse and measure ? 
 
 From the manner in which I have begun this 
 letter, you may, perhaps, be induced to expect some 
 sublime effusion — but you will be disappointed ; for 
 all these lively thoughts have their origin in a mere 
 rustic: but. according to my usual custom, I will 
 endeavour, in my imperfect manner, to display the 
 cause of them, which you, as is your general cus- 
 tom, will denominate too highly coloured — and all 
 a tale of the village of Walheim ! — A few inhabit- 
 ants of that place had made a party to drink coffee, 
 under the umbrageous lime-trees, but not being 
 partial to the company, T absented myself, by making 
 a handsome excuse. The same plough, which had 
 before been a subject of my pencil, had received a 
 fracture, and a lad, who resided near the spot, was 
 busily employed in repairing" it. There was some- 
 thing in his manner which induced me to enter into 
 conversation with him, and it was not long before 
 he yielded me his confidence ; and informed me of 
 his situation in life, which was that of a servant, in 
 the employ of a widowed mistress, of whom he 
 spoke with heartfelt eulogium ; indeed, I could easily 
 perceive that his service was almost a perfect free- 
 dom. He signified that she was past the meridian 
 of life, and had been indifferently treated by her 
 husband, whence she had resolved never to enter 
 the holy state again. While he spoke, his lips 
 breathed such a purity of intention, such a sin- 
 cerity of desire to remunerate her for the conjugal 
 misery she had been condemned to endure, that it 
 would require a large scope of energetic language to 
 paint the zeal of his genuine good-will ; but the sub- 
 limity cf ; -.en v c:.;i!;; r; 1 . :iie do. justice to the man- 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER 
 
 15 
 
 ner, the looks, which gave energy to every word. 
 To describe the latter is impossible — my friend can 
 more readily conceive than portray that which sur- 
 passes my ability. 
 
 While he avowed his passion for the good widow, 
 lie evinced a considerable share of anxiety for her 
 reputation; endeavouring to do away any impres- 
 sion I might have conceived to her disadvantage, by 
 expatiating in the artless strains of true fondness 
 (the recollection is still delightful to me) upon her 
 perfections, and by assuring me that though her 
 youth was no more, her charms were not diminished. 
 He seemed animated by such a sincere love as I 
 had never before witnessed; certainly it was the 
 produce of a virtuous bosom. Perhaps my friend 
 (nay laugh at me, when I confess how much I was 
 delighted with such a rare instance of disinterested- 
 ness and fidelity. Indeed, so deeply warmed was I 
 with his simple confessions, that sometimes I feel as 
 if Iiis love had been transplanted into my own breast. 
 I mean soon to see this extraordinary female — yet 
 it might be more prudent to avoid her. What he 
 describes with so much animation, may be charm 
 less and uninspiring to me. Though I have im- 
 bibed her admirer's ideas, I may not see with his 
 eyes — then will all the beauties of fancy fade away; 
 and all the satisfaction I now feel will cease to afford 
 me enjoy men L 
 
 LETTER XI. 
 
 May 30.^ 
 
 YOU ask me " why I do not continue to write r" 
 — You might, if you had been shrewd, have an- 
 swered that question yourself, by supposing that I 
 was at ease — or had found another, a dearer friend 
 — that I had become intimate with — one whom I 
 scarcely know. 
 
 To enter into a minute detail of all the little 
 events by which 1 became acquainted with the most 
 
16 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 enchanting of women, would be an irksome labour — 
 It is sufficient that I am blessed — happy in the ex- 
 treme — and therefore much too elevated for a mere 
 historian. She is a celestial, a divinity ! — but these 
 are titles every lover bestows on his mistress — She is 
 a masterpiece, — but whence that superiority arises, 
 nor how much I am enraptured with it, I can nei- 
 ther describe nor relate. O what simplicity, united 
 with the most lucid comprehension — what affability 
 with animation — what spirits — mildness — but I think 
 every phrase too weak to convey an adequate idea 
 of such excellence — At a future time I may — no, 
 let me seize the present, since I may never enjoy a 
 second opportunity — In fact, from the moment I 
 began to write, I haAe been several times on the 
 point of throwing away my pen, and flying to meet 
 her — I was resolved this morning to stay at home, 
 and yet I have been continually looking through the 
 window to see if the sun had risen. 
 
 I have yielded to the impulse I could not resist, — 
 have been to visit her, — and have, it is true, my 
 friend, just returned; therefore, while I take break- 
 fast, I will proceed with my letter. — I saw her with 
 her charming little brothers and sisters — beheld her 
 — delightful spectacle ! — but metbinks you will be 
 no wiser when I have finished than when I com- 
 menced, if I proceed in this disjointed manner — 1 
 must repel this inclination to rhapsody, and speak on 
 the subject with greater regularity — Let me, there- 
 fore, entreat your attention to the following. 
 
 I have before written you an account of my inti 
 macy with the steward of the prince, and the gene- 
 ral invitation he gave to his little empire, a term not 
 ill adapted to his present seclusion. — Frovn one cau^e 
 or another, my intended visit remaine.3 at last so 
 long unpaid, that I probably should have relin 
 quished the idea of ever carrying it into effect, had 
 not mere accident presented to me a sight of the 
 treasure which this sequestered spot contained.— 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 17 
 
 In compliance with the wish of some of the young 
 town's people I agreed to make one with them at a 
 rural fete, and a young lady was to accompany me 
 as my partner, who possessed some beauty, and 
 was passingly agreeable. — We settled it to take ray 
 partner and a relation of hers in a coach, and in our 
 way we were to call for Charlotte, who was to fa- 
 vour the company with her presence at the ball. — 
 As we proceeded through the avenue in face of the 
 steward's house, my partner informed me that in 
 the person of Charlotte I should behold a very fine 
 and interesting girl, and she promised to introduce 
 me ; " Let me only caution you," said the relative, 
 u to beware of her fascinating powers !" — " Why 
 so ?" retorted I briskly. " Because," answered my 
 partner, " she is firmly engaged to a deserving young 
 gentleman, whose father being recently dead, he 
 is gone to arrange his affairs, and endeavour to ob- 
 tain a place at court !" 'I heard all this with indif- 
 ference ; I had not yet forgotten the excellence of 
 Leonora, and since her death I had never seen the 
 woman who could interest my bosom. — The sun had 
 descended behind the mountains fey the time we had 
 arrived at the house ; the air became very warm, 
 and thick leaden clouds overspreading the hori- 
 zon, indicated a storm was approaching. The la- 
 dies foresaw that the threatening atmosphere would 
 put a stop to the ball, and were anxiously con- 
 cerned lest their gratification should be put off. — 
 With an air of philosophic inspection I endeavoured 
 to dissipate their fears, by assuring them that T 
 could venture to predict it would be only a passing 
 cloud, and would soon blow over. — I had alighted, 
 when a servant came and begged we would wait a 
 moment for her mistress — I then crossed the court 
 of this tranquil abode, and went up a few steps to 
 the hall, in which were six lovely children, (the 
 eldest eleven, and the youngest about two years of 
 *|pfi] playing about a young ladv, of a middling 
 
13 
 
 .SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 height, but of a form the most exquisite that can be 
 conceived, dressed in white, ornamented with pale 
 pink ribbons. She was supplying the little cherubs 
 with bread and butter from a loaf she held in her 
 hand, winch she distributed in pieces adapted to 
 their size, and that with the most winning and af- 
 fectionate grace. — Their innocent hands were alter- 
 nately holden up for the piece as it was cut off. 
 each crying on receiving it, "Thank you, thank 
 you !" they then ran across the court to have a look 
 at the ladies and the carriage which was to take 
 their Charlotte away. — The latter, on seeing me 
 wait, in the sweetest manner apologized for the de- 
 lay ; " Indeed, Sir," said she, " I am sorry you have 
 had the trouble to alight, and that the ladies should 
 be detained, but in my eagerness to be dressed in 
 time, I quite overlooked some indispensable house- 
 hold concerns, and these little ones lose half their 
 relish for supper unless I cut it for them." — I made 
 a reply, but I cannot tell what it was — her voice, 
 her address, and her expression, had so ravished 
 me. — I was in this stupor of delight and astonish- 
 ment, when she ran into an adjoining appartment to 
 get her fan and gloves. The little ones took ad 
 vantage of her absence to steal a look at me, and to 
 whisper to each other ; upon which I approached 
 the youngest, whose face was full of the most lively 
 expression ; he was about to run from mc just as 
 Charlotte returned, who said to him, "Come, my 
 Louis, you surely are not afraid of your cousin r" 
 This removed all his fears, and he shook my hand 
 with a smack, which I returned with a kiss — I then 
 conducted her to the coach, repeating as we went, 
 " Cousin ! why so ? Am I to consider myself worthy 
 the honour of being your relation ?" With an arch 
 smile she replied, " You must know, Sir, that I 
 have several coiuins, and it would hurt me to think 
 that you were the least estinable among them." — As 
 ehe took her leave,* sT.c direfted the eldest girl, 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 19 
 
 Sophia, to be attentive to her brothers and sisters, 
 and when her father came home, not to let him be 
 alone ; she then gave a charge to the other little 
 ones to mind as much what their sister Sophia said 
 to them, as if she herself were there, which they 
 all promised to do, except a sprightly little girl, 
 about six years old, who gloomingly replied, " Ah ! 
 but sister Sophia and sister Charlotte are not the 
 same ; we love sister Charlotte the best!" — While 
 this was passing, the two eldest boys had mounted 
 the footboard behind the coach, and I succeeded 
 with Charlotte in obtaining permission for them to' 
 retain their places to the end of the forest, if they 
 would behave quietly and keep themselves safe 
 from harm: we, however, had hardly taken our 
 seats, and some mutual civilities had passed be- 
 tween the ladies, when Charlotte bid the coachman 
 to stop, and in a sweet manner entreated her bro- 
 thers not to go any farther : they instantly com- 
 plied, and she extended her- hand for them to take 
 a parting kiss : the eldest pressed it with all the 
 sensibility of a lad of fifteen, and the younger one 
 displayed ail the expression consonant with hia 
 years. After enjoining them to carry her love to 
 the rest, the coach drove on. — Charlotte was now 
 asked by the lady, the relation of my partner, how 
 she approved of the book which she had last lent 
 her? — to which the former replied, that she thought 
 no better of it than the one she before sent her, and 
 therefore she should return it without delay. — 
 On inquiring the title, I was surprised to hear that 
 it was 1 The 'Castle of Otranto.'— In every thing that 
 Charlotte »aid, I traced a profound judgment and 
 acuteness — each word was appropriate, and every 
 iook penetrating ; — an extraordinary lustre, I re- 
 marked, overspread her fine features when I ac- 
 corded with her opinion. — " When I was younger, 
 romances were all my taste," said Charlotte — 
 * then my chief delight on a Sunday afternoon was 
 
2C 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER 
 
 to withdraw to the most lonely chamber, and 
 indu'ge in the perusal of one of the wonderful 
 stories ; in a short time, however, this appetite for 
 the unnatural was clogged, and the domtstic »cene 
 took place of the other. Here I was alive to the 
 misfortunes or happiness in which the heroine was 
 placed, and never shall I be weary of such works 
 as Sir Charles Grandison and Clarissa Harlowe. My 
 leisure for reading is now so much abridged,, that I 
 have no wish to penetrate into other scenes than 
 . those to which I am accustomed. The writer , who 
 copy nature have my preference, for they present 
 those domestic endearments, and affectionate dis- 
 plays, which are the pictures I every day see mi my 
 own family." 
 
 The mcontrovertibilily of every sentence sh« 
 uttered charmed me, and I could scarcely repress 
 the violence of my emotions ; — my bosom burnt 
 with ardency, and I tremble lest the flame should 
 consume me. She next proceeded to criticise on 
 other works, and among the rest the Vicar of Wake- 
 field ; but here, as before, she displayed such ac- 
 curacy and discernment, that I could not refrain 
 from exhibiting my testimony of approbafcion in a 
 manner that must have beea »oticed ; but my mind 
 was abstracted from every other object in the 
 coach ; while it only saw and dwelt upon her, she 
 directed her conversation to the ladies, one o|" 
 whom, my partners relative, directed several signi- 
 
 I ficant regards at me, by which 1 could plainly read 
 her suspicions, though I was then too deeply en- 
 gaged to take any notice of them. 
 
 f The next subject introduced was dancing : which 
 Charlotte approved of as a favourite amusement, 
 notwithstanding h was condemned by maay; — ■ 
 were her temper raffled by any vexatious incident, 
 she had only to repair to her pianno-forte, and play 
 over a few country dances, and the internal har- 
 mony was directly restored. Gracious powers, how 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 did my eyes dwell upon her lips as she spoke ! — 
 Such was the melody of her voice, that the words 
 were almost lost in the sweetness of her modula- 
 tion — her piercing eyes and elegant demeanour 
 absorbed all my powers of admiration. — At length 
 the coach arrived at our destination, and alighting 
 in a paroxysm of rapture, I entered the assembly- 
 room, and was in the middle of it, surrounded by 
 all the company, before I was conscious that I had 
 advanced a foot ; — the partners of Charlotte and 
 the other lady were waiting at the door ready to 
 receive them ; and I, after their example, now con- 
 ducted my partner to a seat in the assembly. The 
 ball opened with minuets, and I danced with seve- 
 ral ladies successively, in the course of which it 
 occurred to me, that the most awkward and unhand- 
 some were the least willing to retire. Charlotte 
 and her partner afterward engaged in country 
 dances ; and O ! my friend, how animated did I feel 
 when it came to my turn to perform the figure 
 with her — O! that you could but see her dance! 
 She is a mistress of that grace and agility so re- 
 quisite for the accomplishment — her form is light 
 and elegant — her motion elastic and uniform ! 
 
 I would have solicited her hand for the succeed- 
 ing dance, had she not assured me in the most 
 affable manner that she was engaged, but that she 
 was at liberty for the third ; at the same time 
 frankly informing me that the allemande was her 
 favourite dance. " It is the custom here (she ob- 
 served) for each couple to dance an allemande ; it 
 is however what my partner is not accustomed to ; 
 he therefore is desirous of being excused, and I 
 know the lady whom you dance with is not partial 
 to it. Your manner of dancing has convinced me 
 that you can perform this kind of amusement ; let 
 us therefore ask this indulgence of each other's 
 partner." In this way it was agreed to, and while 
 
22 SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 we were together Charlotte's partner undertook the 
 care of mine. 
 
 Having commenced, for a time our arms were 
 mutually infolded !— Then it was that all the graces 
 of motion and gayety were exhibited at every turn ; 
 but when the rest of the dancers should have kept 
 pace with the change of time, and have whirled 
 each other round a spherical velocity, they created 
 some confusion by the inequality of their motions. 
 We, however, avoided these awkward performers, 
 by keeping on one side till they had passed, and 
 then resuming our situations with another couple, 
 and Charlotte's late partner and mine. Dancing 
 thus in that perfection which I loved, I felt myself 
 elevated to a more than mortal delight — I pressed in 
 my arms the most lovely of womankind, — we glided 
 round the room with the velocity of lightning, and 
 I saw, I thought of no other object — Shall I avow 
 the rest, my friend? — It was at that time that I 
 formed the determination never to permit the fair 
 one, whom I esteemed and meant to make my wife, 
 to dance an allemande with any other man than 
 myself ; — and I here declare — but you certainly un- 
 til rstand what I would say. 
 
 Exhausted for want of breath, we now took seve- 
 ral walks round the room to recover our fatigue, 
 and then Charlotte sat down. I brought the only 
 oranges remaining from the sideboard, at which 
 they were making negus, and offered the timely re- 
 freshment to Charlotte ; but she politely presented 
 them to a lady next her, who made free with the 
 larger part of them. Ah ' how much did I envy this 
 person, though a female, the favour she had received 
 from so fair a hand ! 
 
 In the third country-dance we were the second 
 couple ; and while I was making the figure with my 
 partner, and catching at every turn a view of those 
 animated looks and aerial motions, which showed 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 23 
 
 now much ber heart was in the amusement, she was 
 observed by an elderly lady, whose agreeable man- 
 ners had before attracted my notice, who, smilingly, 
 twice raised her finger at Charlotte ; and in a tone 
 of strong emphasis pronounced the name of Albert. 
 
 " Albert !" exclaimed I, " and who, pray, is Al- 
 bert?" — Just as Charlottewas about to gratify my 
 curiosity, we separated in forming hands six round, 
 and I observed, as she was opposite to me, that her 
 countenance looked suddenly dejected : — I repeated 
 the question as soon as we had joined hands again, 
 and she replied, " It is wrong to conceal the truth ! 
 — Albert is a worthy young gentleman, to whom 
 my hand is engaged." It now occurred to me that 
 this was the person of whom the ladies had told me 
 in the coach — but it was then indifferent to me — be- 
 cause I had not seen Charlotte ; now, at her mention- 
 ing of his name, theimbittering remembrance revived. 
 It overwhelmed all my pleasure, it confused me so 
 much that I lost sight of the figure, and I discon- 
 certed the company by my mistakes ; till the easy 
 address of Charlotte conducted us to our proper 
 stations. 
 
 In the very zenith of hilarity, the dance was sud- 
 denly closed by a tremendous glare of lightning, the 
 threatening indication of which had before been 
 observed in the sky, and which I had explained to 
 the ladies w r as only the transient lowerings of 
 excessive heat. The noise of the instruments was 
 overpowered by the rolling thunder, and such was 
 the fear of three ladies, that they departed with 
 their partners ; a general interruption ensued, and 
 the music ceased to play. The sudden change from 
 diversion to terror, is sure to heighten the effect of 
 the latter ; for then it is that the mind, which is 
 widely expanded by pleasure, becomes hastily con- 
 tracted by unexpected calamity, and its susceptibi- 
 lity to the influence of opposite passions is rapidly 
 increased. Ir was natural therefore that the storm 
 
24 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 and the ladies' terrors should augment together — 
 one lady, more courageous than the rest, sat with 
 her hack to the window, and with her fingers en- 
 deavoured to stop out the noise of the thunder, as 
 if that would render her secure while the lightning 
 flashed into the room — a second knelt down to utter 
 an extempore prayer, and hiding her face in the 
 former's lap : a third clung fast to the other two, 
 and wept most audihly. Some were for going home, 
 and others so frightened, that they threw them- 
 selves into the arms of their partners, who were 
 revelling with delight on those lips which were 
 breathing out piteous ejaculations to heaven. The 
 swains who were less gallant, sat down to the en- 
 joyment of their bottle and pipes, till at length the 
 mistress of the house conducted that part of the 
 company, who had -still some reason left, to an 
 apartment where the window-shutters being closed, 
 the lightning was almost wholly excluded. Scarcely 
 had we entered when Charlotte arranged the chairs 
 in a circle, and begging us to be seated, proposed to 
 amuse ourselves by playing at some innocent sport, 
 which was received in a very stiff manner by some, 
 while others were delighted with a game at for- 
 feits : the game fixed on was called Aumho'ing, 
 and which was explained to us in this manner by 
 Charlotte : " I shall proceed round," said slie, 
 " from right to left — while you count one after the 
 other progressively as quick as possible ; that is, the 
 first person calls one, the next two, the next three, 
 and so on ; and if any one hesitate or say a wrong 
 number, the party shall receive a box on the ear.*' 
 It was very amusing to see her arms extended, as 
 she moved round the circle, while the numbers one, 
 two, three, &c. were pronounced by each one with 
 a rapidity that kept pace as she increased hers, 
 till some one made an error, and was honoured with 
 the punishment before mentioned — a laugh entitled 
 the party to another box, and tints she augmented 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER 
 
 the difficulty by making her revolutions yet more 
 rapid. I received two boxes for my blunders, and 
 what gave me infinite pleasure, I thought she made 
 mine harder than the rest. The laughter which at 
 intervals tended to increase the difficulty of the 
 play, at length terminated the game, long before 
 we had counted as far as a thousand. The storm had 
 now nearly spent its force, and the company were 
 forming themselves into little parties ; but mine was 
 only that of Charlotte, whom I attended into the 
 ball-room ; — as we went along, she remarked, "That 
 the little punishment she had awarded with so 
 much liberality to some of the company, were 
 only meant to divert their attention from their 
 fears ; but that, as to herself, while she affected to 
 be courageous, she was in as much terror as the 
 rest; yet it had served the purpose of keeping up 
 their spirits and her own. 5 ' We placed ourselves at 
 the window — the distant thunder still rolled faintly 
 awful, while a mild rain descended, and perfumed 
 the atmosphere with balmy odours. Charlotte now 
 reclined her head upon her lovely arm, and with an 
 eye of expression that ran over all the adjacent 
 country, which then was lifted up towards heaven, 
 and lastly fixed fully on me, I saw her shed a tear ! 
 She then placed her hand lightly upon mine, and in a 
 voice of ecstasy exclaimed, " O Klopstock."* My 
 heart was in raptures at the name — a crowd of sen- 
 sations burst into my bosom — My recollection re- 
 verted to the divine poem of this author, and my 
 love was all ardency for one whose taste was in such 
 unison with mine. I repeated her expression—" O 
 Klopstock !" The words died on my lips, for my 
 spirits were sinking ; — reposing on her soft hand, J 
 pressed it with a kiss of sympathy and fervour ; and 
 while my eyes beheld hers suffused with the tears 
 of sensibility, I said, " Immortal Klopstock ! Q 
 
 * The author of a beautiful German poem, called the MessisthJ 
 
 Cc jA 
 
26 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 that thou couldst read thine apotheosis in the coun- 
 tenance of this celestial maid ! — or hear thy name, 
 so frequently uttered with irreverence, sounding 
 from her mellifluous voice : — Ah, where are the 
 lips like hers which should he suffered to pro- 
 nounce it!" 
 
 LETTER XII. 
 
 June 19. 
 
 I BROKE off in my last, but in what part 1 know 
 not! — Alas, my friend, I have forgot what I was be- 
 fore treating of. All I can now remember is, that, 
 after reaching home, I went to bed about four 
 o'clock in the morning, and had my friend been 
 there, to have done away the necessity of writing, I 
 believe I should bave sat up talking till breakfast. — 
 Have I informed you of what passed in our return 
 from the assembly ? — If I have omitted this, it will 
 bear repetition — but you will excuse me at present, 
 as another time will answer the purpose of that 
 friendship, which love has not yet effaced. — The 
 morning was delightful, the storm had cleared away 
 every mist — nature seemed to revive with a livelier 
 gayety, and the crystal drops softly fell from the 
 pending branches. — Our companions had all sunk 
 into the arms of sleep, when Charlotte asked if I was 
 not also desirous of some repose, entreating me that 
 her presence might not be a restraint upon me. — 
 " Ah !" replied I, while I looked with rapture on 
 her angelic countenance, " where thou art I cannot 
 sleep — Tt would be impossible to shut my eyes while 
 thine were open." The soft blush of modesty was 
 diffused over her cheeks, which in a moment after 
 resumed their pristine bloom, and we continued in 
 conversation till the coach reached her home, when, 
 upon the door being softly opened by one of the 
 domestics, she eagerly inquired, and was as satisfac- 
 torily assured, that the family were all in bed, and 
 well. At taking leave, I promised not to make it 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 27 
 
 long before I saw her again, and you will easily be- 
 lieve that I did not forfeit my word. From that 
 day I have ceased to regard the stars and the flight 
 of time ! — The universe is a blank when she is not 
 by — but with her it is a paradise ! — Adieu, my friend, 
 I can no longer withhold from seeing her 
 
 LETTER XIII. 
 
 June 21. 
 
 I NOW positively think that the days in store for 
 the blessed cannot pass more delectably than mine — 
 whatever may prove the future hours of my life, I 
 must acknowledge that I enjoy at present the most 
 perfect serenity. I am now quite settled at the vil- 
 lage of Walheim, at a distance of about three miles 
 from Charlotte; and surely in this recluse abode 
 never was a happy man more blessed! — Iii fixing 
 casually upon this spot for the indulgence of soli- 
 tude, could I have imagined that it cherished such 
 an invaluable jewel ? Often have I strayed by that 
 rural residence, unconscious that it contained her 
 who was one day to constitute my highest delight — 
 frequently have I looked at it from the mountain 
 summit — frequently from the meadow on the oppo- 
 site side of the river; it sometimes occurs to me, 
 that man, in his idle pursuits, overlooks the native 
 riches of his own country, and sets out widely in 
 search of more interesting novelties ; but these soon 
 cease to engage his attention ; and as they weaken, 
 he again sighs for the pleasures he left behind, till he 
 finally sinks into his former habits, and sits down 
 without caring any farther in w hat manner the rest 
 of the world is engaged. I felt an attraction to thia 
 spot the first time that I beheld it — to its charming 
 scenery, its rich woody prospects, its mountainous 
 and rocky heights. I wish that you could but view 
 them ! — Yet I was not then interested, and quitted 
 them with the same listlessness as before. Methinks 
 that space and futurity are synonymous — an awful 
 
28 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER 
 
 gloom hovers over that which is unexplored, and in 
 which the mind that contemplates is bewildered in 
 obscurity — we are delighted with the images which 
 fancy forms ; we pursue them with anxiety, till the 
 mask is thrown off, and then the illusion no longer 
 charms. Similar to this is the traveller, who has for 
 a long time been separated from his cot, his wife, 
 and his little ones: with joy he returns to his homely 
 dwelling, and tastes more comforts in the result of 
 domestic duties than all he had met with in his dis- 
 tant journeys. 
 
 I am quite happy in my recess — I rise with the 
 sun — I gather my own pease, which I shell as I sit 
 and read Homer. — Then I put them into the pot, 
 cover them with the Lid, stir them if they boil, and 
 then in my own fancy paint the lovers of Penelope, 
 slaying their cattle and dressing them. — How sweet 
 are the sensations which arise from a review of the 
 patriarchal life ; and surely I may safely assert that 
 such a mode of living is mine : — all the uncontami- 
 nated and simple delights of the rustic are mine ; 
 who sits down to partake of the cabbage which his 
 hand has planted, and while he relishes his whole- 
 some viands, praises its sweetness, thinks on the fine 
 morning when he set it, the calm evening when he 
 watered it, and the daily pleasure he received in 
 seeing it grow, and come to perfection. 
 
 LETTER XIV. 
 
 June 29. 
 
 THE day before yesterday the doctor of the town 
 paid a visit to the steward. — I was at that time at 
 high 'romps on the floor with the children, tickling 
 and playing with them, and a fine noise we made. 
 The doctor is the very emblem of formality and pre- 
 cision, always adjusting his ruffles while speaking, 
 and pulling out his plaited frill when he has done ; 
 of course he thought my behaviour was extremely 
 opposite to the dignity of a man. — His look suffi- 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 ciently indicated this ; but it was not in the power 
 of his frown, or his pompous declamation, to inter- 
 rupt my rebuilding the card-houses which the little 
 folks had knocked down. Since this, the physical 
 gentleman has told every one that the steward's 
 children were rude enough before, but that now Wer- 
 .er would be the entire ruin of them. — Yes, my 
 friend, children are my delight, and next to Char- 
 ctte I doat on them. — If in their infant minds I 
 liscern the germ of those virtues and abilities which 
 it a future period are to be their directors — if in the 
 fearless I anticipate firmness and constancy — and in 
 the volatile that vacancy and good-nature which 
 will blunt the stings of fate, and level the rugged 
 inequalities they will meet in their journey through 
 life — I am then forcibly reminded of the divine 
 words of our great Master, " Except ye be like one 
 of these little ones." Yet, my friend, is it not a 
 common practice to overawe children, and terrify 
 those who may prove models for ourselves ? — We 
 rule them while under our control like slaves, and 
 prohibit them the indulgence of their innocent gra- 
 tifications, while we unlimitedly indulge our own. — 
 Who has installed us with this exclusive preroga- 
 tive ? Can it be derived from a greater age and ex- 
 perience ? If in the pages of holy writ, of such is 
 said to be the kingdom of heaven ; yet they are not 
 as such esteemed upon earth. — They are the same 
 we once were, and such as those to come must be !— 
 No more, my friend, now, lest I exhaust, your pa 
 tience, and bewilder myself. 
 
 LETTER XV. 
 
 July 1. 
 
 AN esteemed old lady in the town, just been 
 given over by her physician, has expressed a wish 
 that Charlotte should be present with her in her 
 last moments. — Obedient to the pious duty, she is 
 gone, and few I believe are more capable of pouring 
 
30 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 the balm of consolation into the wounded bosom ; — 
 at least I can speak experimentall}-. — We went last 
 week to tho Vicar of S , who lives in a ham- 
 let among the mountains, about three miles off. — 
 We were accompanied by Sophia, his sister. — We ar- 
 rived about four in the afternoon; and on our going 
 through the yard, which is shaded by some walnut- 
 trees, we beheld the venerable old pastor seated on 
 a bench before his door. — Spurning his decrepitude 
 and his stick, he rose at the sight of Charlotte to 
 meet her, but she sprang forward to prevent him ; 
 and having made him retake his seat, placed herself 
 at his side. — The tender of her father's best respects 
 being made, she took a little chubby fellow, the old 
 gentleman's favourite, and began to kiss him. — How 
 much, my friend, would you have been gratified, 
 could you have been a spectator of the kind atten- 
 tion she paid to the ancient vicar, speaking with an 
 elevation of voice equal to his deafness; and, to en- 
 courage him, introducing in her discourse the sud- 
 den decease of several young and hearty persons in 
 the very prime of life; then extolling the sanative 
 properties of the Carelstadt baths, and commending 
 the resolution he had taken of visiting them the fol- 
 lowing summer ; to all which she joined her congra- 
 tulations upon seeing him so visibly altered for the 
 better, since the last time she called at the village. 
 During this, I directed my conversation to bis lady, 
 who is several years younger than her husband. — 
 The old gentleman was full of vivacity, and hearing 
 me praise the beauty of the two walnut-trees, whose 
 umbrageous foliage formed such a canopy over our 
 heads, he began garrulously to enlarge upon their 
 history. " I cannot now," said he, " tell how the 
 first came here, as some say it was set by a clergy- 
 man — others by his successor — but the second, in 
 yonder corner, counts the same number of years as 
 my wife, and will be just fifty years old in next Oc- 
 toljer: Her father planted it in the morning, and at 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 night she was brought into the world: he held the liv- 
 ing before me, and always felt a great fondness for this 
 tree, and indeed his partiality has extended to myself. 
 Under this identical tree, sitting on a log of wood, 
 and knitting, did I, on entering this yard, first be- 
 hold my wife, and that is now seven-and-twenty 
 years ago." — Charlotte here inquired for the vicar's 
 daughter, and was informed that she was gone with 
 a Mr. Smith into the meadows to see the hay-mak- 
 ing ; after which the vicar renewed the thread of 
 his discourse, and informed us in what manner he 
 had won the good-will of the old vicar and his 
 daughter, and how he obtained his curacy, and at 
 last filled his place. — He had just finished these par- 
 ticulars, when Mr. Smith returned with his daughter ; 
 at entering, he saluted Charlotte in a very friendly 
 manner. The young lady is a lively and genteel 
 brunette, one with whom a sensible man might 
 spend his life comfortably in the country. — Mr. 
 Smith, who I soon saw was devoted to her, possesses 
 a pleasant person, but is of a reserved disposition, 
 which was evident in the several fruitless attempts 
 Charlotte made to induce him to join our conversa- 
 tion. — This rather displeased me, as I was confident 
 that a want of affability, and not a deficiency of 
 talent, was the cause of his silence ; it was not long 
 ere this opinion was confirmed in a walk we took 
 with Frederica, the vicar's daughter. — I had entered 
 into a friendly conversation with her, which had 
 such a gloomy effect on the naturally dark counte- 
 nance of her lover, that Charlotte pulled me by the 
 sleeve to take notice of it. — It wounds me exces- 
 sively when I see men in this manner become the 
 torments of each other ; wasting away, in the days 
 of their sunshine, the bud of youth, and the height 
 of enjoyment, by idle jealousies, and other errors, 
 which they often see too late to correct. — At sup- 
 per, the causes of human happiness and misery being 
 the subject of conversation, I availed myself of ih* 
 
32 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 opportunity to censure the passion of ill-humour.-— 
 " There is a common opinion," said I, " among 
 mankind, that if the days of happiness or misery 
 were counted, the latter would be the most nume 
 rous; but this I consider as an unwarranted conclu 
 sion. — Could we partake of the bounty which Pro 
 videnre so liberally bestows on all of us, with » 
 suitable meekness and gratitude, the reflection woul<* 
 smoothen our rough passage through life, and 
 lighten the load of those evils which all, more or less, 
 must bear." "Well, but one cannot always control 
 one's disposition," said the vicar's lady, — "much de- 
 pends upon the constitution ; for if the body be ill, 
 the mind cannot be well." " Then, madam, let us 
 view it in this light," rejoined I, " and see if by 
 treating it as a malady, there is no remedy to be 
 found." "That is more to the purpose," replied 
 Charlotte ; " and to effect this, the means will de- 
 pend greatly upon our own exertions ; — for instance, 
 when any thing arises to interrupt my serenity, I 
 .ake a turn in the garden, and chant some pretty air, 
 : y which means my tranquillity is soon recovered." 
 'This," said I, "is precisely that which I mean ; 
 ill-humour and sloth may be compared together; — 
 the former is an inactive quality, and mankind are 
 naturally indolent ; but this malign propensity once 
 vanquished, we hastily move forward, and find a 
 secret pleasure in being actively engaged." — Frede- 
 rica did not let a word escape her ; and Mr. Smith 
 opposed me, by remarking that we were not able to 
 command our temper, and that our own power was 
 still weaker over our feelings ; whence I was induced 
 to reply, that every one earnestly desired to be rid 
 of the unpleasant habit in question, that no one 
 knew the extent of his own strength till it was called 
 into exertion, and that the sick are under the care 
 of a physician, and willingly endure the most severe 
 privations and nauseous drugs to be cured of their 
 malady. 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 33 
 
 During this, perceiving the old gentleman was 
 anxiously endeavouring to make out the purport of 
 our conversation, I raised my voice, and directed 
 myself to him in this manner: "Notwithstanding 
 the denunciation of the pulpit has been levied against 
 every kind of fault, I believe there yet exists one 
 which has been passed unnoticed — I mean ill- 
 humour" — "Oh, oh!" said the vicar, "that is a 
 subject for the city preachers, but the peasantry 
 would be at a loss to understand what I meant; — 
 though indeed a hint just now and then would not 
 be mistimed here, if it were only for the benefit of 
 my wife and the steward." The old gentleman's dry 
 remark produced a general burst of laughter, in 
 which he joined till it brought on a fit of coughing, 
 that put a stop to our discourse for the moment. — As 
 soon as its violence had abated, Mr. Smith recom- 
 menced the subject. — " Sir," said he, " I think it is 
 proceeding to an unwarrantable length to call ill- 
 humour a fault." " I think not," I replied, " for 
 that which injures our own happiness, and that of 
 others, deserves no better eitle. It is surely are- 
 flection sufficiently painful that we are incapable of 
 rendering each other mutually happy ; but we aug- 
 ment the misfortune, if we place obstacles in the 
 way of that little enjoyment which it is within our 
 power to convey. — The man who fosters a churlish 
 rancorous temper in his breast; who conceals its 
 weight, and does not let it interrupt the quiet of his 
 neighbour, is conscious within himself of inability ; 
 and hence arises that peevishness which unites with 
 envy, and which the weakness of vanity encourages. 
 To "see others happy, and know that we have in no- 
 wise been instrumental to it, is a painful reflection." 
 Charlotte could not pass unnoticed the emphasis 
 which I threw into this last speech, and she looked 
 at me with a smile ; but it produced a tear in the 
 eve of Frederica, which induced me to say farther, 
 "I wish that no one mav ever taste of the cup of 
 D 
 
34 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 pleasure, who employs the power he possesses over a 
 tender heart, for the purpose of destroying that true 
 satisfaction which it is formed by nature to partici 
 pate in ! — It is not the value or number of presents 
 — it is not an attention the most unremitted — that 
 can counterbalance the harmony and serenity of 
 mind which are a prey to the shocks of malice and 
 cruelty." — The remembrance of past occurrences 
 now rushing upon me, my heart was overcharged, 
 and my eyes were suffused with tears. — " Daily," 
 added I, " ought each of us to interrogate ourselves, 
 and ask, What can I do to render my friend hap- 
 pier?' — We may endeavour not only to let others 
 enjoy their happiness uninterruptedly, but we pos- 
 sess the means of improving it by participation : — 
 In the storms of passion that harass the soul, and 
 when keen pangs rend the heart, we cannot ad- 
 minister even a transient relief and when the mise- 
 rable sufferer, fatally attacked by some dire disease, 
 sees his untimely grave prepared by your hand — 
 and stretched out pale and exhausted, turns his dim 
 eyes towards heaven — while the cold dews of death 
 lie on his visage — then, like a culprit, self-con- 
 demned, will you stand before him. — Sensible of 
 your error, when it is too late, you have no power 
 to relieve, but keenly feel that all you can give or do 
 is wholly vain to restore health, or bestow one glimpse 
 of comfort on the departing spirit!" 
 
 These words had no sooner fallen from my lips, 
 than they brought to mind a similar scene to which I 
 had once been a witness — It drew tears from my 
 eyes, which I concealed with my handkerchief ; and 
 suddenly leaving the room, I did not reflect what'l 
 was about till Charlotte made me recollect myself, 
 by calling me back, and asking me to return home. 
 Ah ! with what kindness did she chide me as we 
 walked forward, displaying in the most affectionate 
 manner the bad effects of that warm fervour and 
 anxiety which agitate me when interested in an ar- 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 85 
 
 jument : in the same tender way did she request mc 
 to abate that zeal which must eventually weaken my 
 frame, and bring on a premature close of existence 
 Dear Charlotte ! — for thv sake 1 will regard myself- 
 yes, I will live for thee ! 
 
 LETTER XVI. 
 
 July 6. 
 
 CHARLOTTE remains with her indisposed Wer 
 ter ; indeed her presence, wherever she visits, is sure 
 to alleviate pain and introduce pleasure. — I heard 
 that she intended to take a walk with her little sis- 
 ters, so I joined her, and we went together about 
 four miles. — In coming back, we stopped at the foun- 
 tain which I have before spoken of with so much 
 partiality, and which now of course is greater than 
 before. — While Charlotte was seated on the wall, and 
 we all stood before her, the solitary hours I had for- 
 merly spent there, when my mind was unbiassed, 
 arose to memory, and inwardly I exclaimed, "From 
 that time till now, thou dear fountain, has thy 
 reviving stream, once the spring of many a delight, 
 been disregarded/' — I was standing in a deep re- 
 verie, with my eyes fixed on the spot, when I per- 
 ceived one of the children coming up the steps with 
 a cup of water. — My looks here caught those of 
 Charlotte, and my bosom beat with the most glowing 
 sensations. — As the little one approached, another of 
 her sisters, named Marianne, was going to take it, 
 hut she withdrew her hand, and in the most fond 
 accent said, "No ; — let sister Charlotte have the first 
 drink !" — Pleased at her manner, I snatched up the 
 child, and gave her a close and earnest kiss; but 
 she began to cry — Charlotte said my manner was too 
 IX ugli, and I expressed my chagrin; while she, lead- 
 her little sister by the hand down the steps of 
 the fountain, bid her wash her face, and then all 
 would be well again." — The child was as eager to 
 obey her as could be, and rubbed her cheeks hear- 
 
36 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 tily with her little hands, till the kiss was quite 
 washed away, and there was no danger of a beard 
 growing in its place. Although Charlotte assured 
 her that she 'had washed enough, she still continued 
 to rub on, believing that so much labour could not 
 be lost. — lie assured, my friend, that at no time have 
 I paid more attention to the holy rites of baptism ; 
 and when the child and Charlotte had ascended, I 
 could hardly withhold myself from prostrating at 
 the feet of the latter, and worshipping her as the 
 angelic emblem of purity. 
 
 Conversing in the evening with a gentleman esteem- 
 ed for his knowledge, I related the circumstance ; 
 but common sense and modern understanding are 
 too often at variance ; and such was my opinion of 
 him. — He blamed the thoughtless conduct of Char- 
 lotte, and affirmed that it was wrong to encourage* 
 the whims and weaknesses of a child — " follies that 
 could not too soon be eradicated." — I understand 
 that this gentleman, not many days ago, became 
 himself a father, and probably at that time was ar- 
 ranging a new system for the education of children ; 
 I therefore silently passed over his pedantic whim- 
 sies, satisfied in my own mind that, if the indul- 
 gence of our own little, and often absurd, fancies 
 contributes so essentially to our happiness, we should 
 show the same toleration to the sportiveness of the 
 infant world. 
 
 LETTER XVII 
 
 July 8. 
 
 WHY am I so simple, so anxious, and desirous to 
 get but one glance ! How childish am I ! — We have 
 been at Walheim, whither the ladies arrived in a 
 coach, and then alighted to walk in the garden ; — 
 there I fancied that the beautiful sparkling eyes of 
 Charlotte — but I am again wandering — I will speak, 
 therefore, to the point, though I am almost asleep. — 
 After the ladies had re-entered their carriage, young 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 37 
 
 Weist, Selfstradt, Andran, and myself, stood con- 
 versing with them at the windows — The gentlemen 
 were in high spirits: but though the eyes of Char- 
 lotte wandered from one to another — though I stood 
 immoveable, and looked on no other object than 
 herself — yet they did, not once fix on me ; — I was 
 bidding her in my heart a thousand, thousand adieus, 
 while she withheld from me even the pleasure of a sin- 
 gle regard. — The carriage drove off, and my eyes pur- 
 sued it full of tears ; — I saw her look back out of 
 the window ; — that look, alas !• for whom was it de- 
 signed ? — could it be for me ? — O what uncertainty ! 
 but suspense is not devoid of comfort : perhaps it 
 might be for me ! — Good night ! — I am sensible of 
 my own irresolution ! 
 
 LETTER XVIII. . 
 
 July 10. 
 
 WHEN Charlotte's name is mentioned in com- 
 pany, you cannot conceive, my friend, how silly I 
 look, and more particularly so, if any one asks me 
 what I think of her ! Think of her ! — what a cold, 
 frigid expression. Of what materials must he be 
 made who only approves of her, and is dead to the 
 fascination of such bewitching perfections ! — In what 
 manner do I fancy her ! — In a similar sense, a few 
 days ago, I was asked by a person if I fancied Os- 
 sian's poems ! 
 
 LETTER XIX. 
 
 July 11. 
 
 THE sick lady whom Charlotte went to see in 
 town, still continues alarmingly ill, in consequence 
 of which I am deprived of the pleasure of her com- 
 pany : hence she has my daily orisons for her speedy 
 convalescence. — Charlotte favoured me with a visit 
 to-day, and communicated to me a very singular 
 occurrence. This sick lady's husband is such a par- 
 simonious unprincipled being, that he has scarcely 
 Cd 
 
38 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 allowed his wife a possible maintenance since they 
 were married: this has rendered her miserable, find- 
 ing her economy unable to keep equal with her nar- 
 row allowance. — As soon as the physician assured 
 her that all farther medicine was ineffectual, she 
 desired her husband to be sent for, and addressed 
 him thus, as he stood by her bed at the side of Char- 
 lotte : " I am anxious to disclose a circumstance, 
 which, if it remain unnoticed, may hereafter create 
 uneasiness. — During thirty years I have acted with 
 the utmost frugality ;• but, notwithstanding all my 
 economy, I have been under the necessity of de- 
 frauding you. — The weekly allowance when we first 
 married was but very small — our family increased, 
 but you still continued it the same ; — and in the 
 times of our heaviest expense no increase has ever 
 taken place. — To all this I have conformed without 
 a murmur ; but the deficiency I have been compelled 
 to pay out of the weekly produce of the dairy.— 
 When I am gone, it would not have been suspected 
 that I had taken any of the money designed for other 
 purposes ; but my conduct was the result of com- 
 pulsion, not of extravagance. Had I buried the 
 secret with me in the grave, your future housekeeper 
 might have been placed in an awkward predicament, 
 and you might have maintained that your deceased 
 wife had subsisted her family on that narrow weekly 
 pittance you have uniformly allowed." 
 
 The severe and pointed reprobation of Charlotte 
 on this avaricious disposition, which had made the 
 poor gentlewoman "Rob Peter to pay Paul," was 
 not forgotten. " The starving stipend of this wretch," 
 said she, "was perhaps supposed to be increased by 
 the industry of the wife, who augmented it like the 
 wonderful increase of the widow's pitcher." 
 
SORROWS OP WERTER. 
 
 39 
 
 LETTER XX. 
 
 July 13. 
 
 No ! I cannot err ! — her eyes too palpably declare 
 the interest I have in her bosom ! — there is no delu- 
 sion — for the delicious idea is responded from my 
 own heart — I will venture to declare the fond hope 
 of being beloved ! — Loved by her ! — Oh, how this 
 thought elevates my soul ; — Yes, my friend, it does : 
 and I can venture nothing in telling what you will 
 easily understand. — The high distinction of her af- 
 fection makes me look upon myself as sell-ennobled ! 
 Do I talk arrogantly? — Rather it is the self-co^vic- 
 tion of truth ! — Is there one existing who can super- 
 sede me in her love? — Ah, at the sound of Albert's 
 name — when it falls from her lips with respect and 
 emotion, I feel like an aspiring commander, Avho is 
 degraded — one who is divested of his honours — sus- 
 pended from command, and compelled to surrender 
 his sword. 
 
 LETTER XXI. 
 
 July 16. 
 
 WHEN I accidentally happen to touch her hand, 
 how my heart flutters and my blood boils. — Do our 
 feet meet under the table ? I hastily withdraw them ; 
 but soon a certain impulse compelsme to replace them, 
 and then what strange emotions ensue ! — She makes 
 me her friend and confidant ; — sweet innocence ! — she 
 intrusts me with the secrets of her approaching nup- 
 tials, and conceives not the pangs she plants in my 
 bosom. When in earnest talk with me, she rests 
 her hand upon mine, and draws her chair so near 
 that I imbibe her fragrantbreath — heavenly powers ! 
 — then the rapid lightning is not more electrical. — 
 Dare I ever abuse this bosom of virtuous innocence! 
 Ah, you can read my heart, my friend ; — not its cor- 
 ruption, but its weakness alarms me : for frailty is 
 a species of corruption ! — But her person to me i?» 
 
40 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 sacred ; it is her company only that I sigh for — that 
 source of devotional pleasure ! She touches one 
 simple beautiful air upon the harpsichord with a de- 
 licacy and expression peculiar to herself — the gloom 
 of sadness is dissipated when she commences it, and 
 the magic charm, which music is said to possess in 
 curing the mania of melancholy, is realized. — In the 
 moments when the desponding soul meditates its 
 own destruction — in that moment does this melting 
 air restore its serenity — dissipate the misty horror — 
 and change the drooping visage of despair into the 
 smiles of cheerfulness ! 
 
 LETTER XXII. 
 
 July 18. 
 
 HOW insignificant i3 the possession of the uni- 
 verse, if the heart be dead to the delights of love ! 
 It is an nnilluminated magic lantern ; but the lamp 
 once lighted, the figures play on the whitened wall ! 
 We are pleased with the fleeting shadows ; — and 
 such are the effects of love ; they present us only 
 with visionary images, and, like children, we are 
 delighted. 
 
 I shall not see Charlotte to-day ; some company I 
 did not expect have rendered it impossible — but to 
 make amends for this privation, I sent my servant 
 with a message to her, that I might at least enjoy the 
 pleasure of seeing some one who had been in her 
 presence. — How anxiously did I wait for his return, 
 and so pleased was I with the answer he brought 
 back, that I could scarcely suppress the emotions of 
 my love before him. 
 
 The Bologna stone, it is said, has the property of 
 imbibing the rays of the sun, when exposed to it. 
 with such a degree of tenuity, that it emits light 
 for some time after it is placed in the dark. The 
 answer I received had the same effect on me : it re- 
 flected the radiance of those eyes which had 
 enabled her to guide the pen, and the whiteness of 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 41 
 
 that hand which had written it, and therefore to me 
 it was equally dear and interesting ; I would not 
 have parted with it for the wealth of Croesus. — 
 You cannot suppress a smile, but, believe me, no- 
 thing can be truly called illusive which renders us 
 happy. 
 
 LETTER XXIII. 
 
 July 19. 
 
 WHEN I awoke this morning, I opened my case- 
 ment, and, as 1 tranquilly locked at the rising sun, I 
 exclaimed, "To-day I shall see her !"— Yes, I shall 
 behold her ! — This idea will occupy my mind through 
 all this day; in that delightful anticipation is united 
 every ether desire ! 
 
 LETTER XXIV. 
 
 July 20. 
 
 I DO not approve your advice respecting my ac- 
 companying the ambassador to . I understand 
 
 he is a morose supercilious character, and to such ] 
 cannot yield submission. — My mother, you inform 
 me, seems to wish that I were engaged in some 
 active employment.; — I cannot repress a smile at 
 this idea, I who am never idle — who busy myself in 
 even shelling peas and beans. The worid is full of 
 wo, and I account him a mere idiot, who, in com- 
 pliance with the will of the world, labours to ac- 
 quire those riches which he does not need to aug- 
 ment his happiness. 
 
 LETTER XXV. 
 
 July 24. 
 
 1 MUST inform you with some regret, in answer 
 to the anxiety you express respecting my progress 
 in drawing, that I have lately been very negligent. 
 Not long ago I undertook an historical piece, but I 
 cannot work at it: indeed, it appears to n:e, that I 
 can do nothing apart frcm nature. — It is her that 
 
SORROWS OF WRRTER. 
 
 I study ; she is my model in all her different forms:— 
 yet, in the present state of my mind, I possess none 
 of that assiduity and attention which are so abso- 
 lutely necessary for delineating her minor beauties 
 with true effect : — all my attempts are abortive ; 
 my outlines are incorrect, and the colours all swim 
 as I look at them ! — if this humour do not remove, I 
 will try something in relief, with clay or wax. — Three 
 attempts have I made to take Charlotte's picture, 
 and as many times has my pencil blushed for me ; for- 
 merly my likenesses were held in great estimation : 
 but this unaccountable incapacity gives me a great 
 deal of chagrin. — However, that I might not altoge- 
 ther fail, I have made her profile in shade, and for 
 the present that must content me. 
 
 LETTER XXVI. 
 
 July 26. 
 
 RELY upon it, my dear Charlotte, that all your 
 requests shall be most punctually executed. The 
 more you command, the greater will be my hap- 
 piness — and the last commission shall always be 
 performed with the most alacrity. — One thing, how- 
 ever, I wish you would attend to — write your let- 
 ters without sanding them ; for, to-day, in my eager- 
 ness to press the writing to my lips, the sand grated 
 betw r een my teeth. 
 
 LETTER XXVII. 
 
 July 27. 
 
 CONTINUALLY do I resolve not to see her so 
 frequently ; but the resolves of lovers are no sooner 
 made than broken. — Ah, my friend, promising and 
 performing are two things essentially different ; and 
 how easy is the one to the other ! — Daily do I suffer 
 im r self to be tempted away, and yet when I return at 
 night, I as constantly say that I will not go to-mor- 
 row ; — the morrow arrives, and with it some charm 
 that bends my footsteps to her abode. — Do not 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 43 
 
 imagine, however, that these charms are merely 
 ideal. — If when we part, she says, " Will you not 
 come again to-morrow ?" could I be insensible to such 
 a request ? or if she gives me some order to execute, 
 con I omit returning with an answer in person ? — 
 At another time, the weather is fine, and the walk 
 to Walheim is good for exercise ; — at Walheim I am 
 but half a league from her house, and how could J 
 stop short, when so near, or return without seeing 
 her ? — It would be impossible ! 
 
 I remember that my grandmother used to tell us 
 a long story about a loadstone mountain, the at- 
 traction of which was so great, that when any vessel 
 came within a certain distance, the nails flew from 
 the planks up the mountain, and the crew perished 
 in the unfastened wreck. The application will be 
 easily made by my friend ; but were the universe 
 one loadstone, its attraction would be inferior to 
 that of my Charlotte ! 
 
 LETTER XXVIII. 
 
 July 30. 
 
 AT length Albert is come, and Werter must de- 
 part ! — If he were the most excellent of men. the 
 most ennobled of human kind, and myself in all 
 things his inferior, I yet could not endure to behold 
 him in the enjoyment of such matchless charms and 
 perfections. — Ah ! I have seen this happy destined 
 bridegroom, and find him accomplished and irre- 
 proachable, one who is formed to make himself es- 
 teemed. — Happily, I was not by at their first inter- 
 view ; it would have been too much for this poor 
 heart ; — nay, he has been sufficiently guarded not to 
 give her one embrace in my presence. May heaven 
 reward him for this ! I cannot but esteem him for the 
 affection he bears this angel, to whom I am certainly 
 indebted for the kind respect he treats me with. — 
 The ladies possess great address in keeping up a 
 good understanding between rivals ; and, though it 
 
44 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER 
 
 does not always succeed, it is worth making the at- 
 tempt for ; since, if it do, they are sure to be t);e great- 
 est gainers. 
 
 It is impossible to refuse this Albert my esteem. 
 — His even unruffled mind forms a striking con- 
 trast to the impetuosity of mine, yet he is not de- 
 ficient in tenderness, and seems full}' sensible of 
 the invaluable treasure of his Charlotte. — I have 
 not observed him display the least ill-humour, a 
 fault to which you know I bear a great antipathy. — 
 He considers me as endued with taste and discern- 
 ment ; nor docs ho find his conquest and his passion 
 less Mattering, because I make no secret of my 
 partiality for the person and conversation of Char- 
 lotte. — In their private moments perhaps he may 
 sometimes play off a few trivial jealousies ; but 
 whether it be so or not, I am certain, that, were I 
 placed in the same situation as he is, I could not 
 evince the same undisturbed disposition. — What 
 pangs do thy votaries, love, endure ! — Whatever may 
 be the future situation of Albert, all the delights i 
 enjoyed in the company Charlotte arc now no 
 more! — Shall I call this folly or infatuation? — It 
 matters not what you call it, since 1, alas! am 
 doomed to be sensible of it. — Before Albert arrived, 
 I knew all that I know at this moment ; and was 
 then informed that I could have no pretensions to 
 her hand — nor did I ever hint at such an intention ; 
 for whatever passion I have displayed was the mere 
 effect of her resistless perfections ; yet, now, ] 
 stand like an idiot, overwhelmed wit!) astonish- 
 ment, to find that the real proprietor of the jewel 
 has taken into his own protection that treasure 
 which never was mine. I am vexed with myself, 
 and deplore my weakness; but 1 should feel a 
 greater contempt for the grave cold reasoner, who 
 would argue me into submission, and preach forti- 
 tude because it is not to be remedied — I despise 
 such wordy empty philosophers ! — Yesterday, after 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 45 
 
 taking a long ramble in the woods, I returned to 
 Charlotte's house, and found her sitting in the 
 bower at the end of the garden, conversing with 
 Albert. — Like a child, I played a thousand little 
 extravagancies to conceal what I feit within. — To- 
 day when I met her, she said, "Do not, for heaven's 
 sake, Werter, act again as you did last night: — ■ 
 your violent emotions are quite terrifying !" — Be- 
 tween ourselves, my friend, I have lately taken to 
 observe Albert's movements, and, as often as he is 
 compelled to be away, I take the advantage of 
 his absence to enjoy her company in the manner I 
 .vish, that is, alone. 
 
 LETTER XXIX. 
 
 August 8. 
 
 BELlEVE me, my friend, when I spurned the 
 cold reasoners who would advise me to" be recon- 
 ciled to such an event, it did not occur to me that 
 you would be included in that number : yet, I ad- 
 mit you have written the truth ; and to which I 
 shall only oppose this one objection : — When two 
 extreme plans are proposed, both are generally re- 
 jected. Just as various as the features of our 
 countenances are the lines of our opinion and con 
 duct ; and, this admitted, I shall allow the truth of 
 your inferences, and endeavour by taking a middle 
 path, to evade them. 
 
 You say that either I have hopes of possessing 
 Charlotte, or that I have not. What results from 
 this ? — In the first, I ought to pursue my olfject with 
 increased avidity, and leave no means unessayed to 
 promote my wishes. — In the second, you bid me 
 assume the character of manliness, and reject an un- 
 fortunate attachment, the end of which is destruc- 
 tion. — Such is the advice you wisely give, but, my 
 friend, how much easier is the theory than the prac- 
 tice ! 
 
 SuoDose a languishing" wretch, sinking under a 
 E 
 
46 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 wasting disease, and whose constitution is daily 
 exhausting ; — would you encourage this man to 
 terminate his miseries hy a dagger or poison ? — Does 
 not the same malady which weakens his frame, de- 
 prive him also of that fortitude which such a daring 
 act requires? — This simile perhaps you may answer 
 by another, and ask irre, whether any one would net 
 rather endure the amputation of a limb than risk 
 the loss of life by delaying the operation ? — It may 
 be right ; and, indeed, my friend, there have been 
 times in which I have resolved to tear myself from 
 the danger, could I any where have found an 
 asylum ! 
 
 P. S. Looking accidentally at my memorandum 
 book, which has lately been much neglected, I iind 
 that I have been very attentive to the minutest 
 circumstances. — It is singular, that I should be so 
 precise in every particular, and yet act so childishly. 
 — In the mean time, while I remain perfectly the 
 same in my intellects, there exists not a hope of my 
 recovery. 
 
 LETTER XXX. 
 
 August 10. 
 
 WERE I capable of acting rationally, I might 
 now enjoy the happiest life a mortal can lead; so 
 many agreeable circumstances combine to this end; 
 but, alas ! I feel that happiness must be seated in 
 the mind, and not in externals. — To be accounted 
 a member of one of the most amiable of families — 
 to be regarded by the father as a son — by his 
 children as a brother — and by Charlotte, and the 
 virtuous good Albeit, who salutes me as a friend, 
 and holds me dearer to him than every thing, except 
 Charlotte ; — some would think I must be blessed. — 
 When we walk together, and mutually converse 
 upon the perfections of Charlotte, I regret that 
 you cannot overhear us. — Nothing, ir appears to me, 
 can be more unusual and farcical than this intimacy 
 
sorrows of werter. 
 
 47 
 
 between us, and yet it possesses an indescribable 
 something which softens me into tears. — Whenever 
 he speaks of the amiable and respectable mother of 
 Charlotte — when he enlarges upon her dying mo- 
 ments, and that tender scene in which she be- 
 queathed to her daughter the future management 
 of her children and family when be portrays the 
 change of character Charlotte assumed for that oc 
 casion ; — her domestic economy, her maternal as 
 well as sisterly love to the children — her punctual 
 discharge of these active duties, without the least 
 diminution of her natural and enchanting vivacity ! 
 while he relates these things, I walk by his side, 
 pick up the flowers in our path, carefully unite 
 them into a nosegay, which I toss into the first rivu- 
 let we come to, and then steadfastly regard it, uncon- 
 scious of what I am doing, till it sinks. I do not re- 
 member if I told you that Albert has settled here. 
 Being much esteemed at court, he has obtained a 
 lucrative post there ; and, indeed, I have seldom 
 seen one better gifted with that punctuality and cor- 
 rectness so indispensable in business. 
 
 LETTER XXXI. 
 
 August 12. 
 
 THERE certainly cannot be a better character 
 than Albert ; — the conversation we had together 
 yesterday was very remarkable, and it is worth your 
 hearing. Having a fancy to spend a few days in 
 the mountains, whence I now write to you, I went 
 previously to bid him farewell. — As I walked up and 
 down his room, I perceived his pistols, and begged 
 him to lend them to me during my journey. — He 
 readily assented, adding only, that I must take the 
 trouble of loading them, as with him they were 
 hung up more for ornament than use. While I 
 handled one of them, he proceeded, "Iliad once 
 very near paid dearly for being prepared against 
 danger; since which period, I have never kept my 
 
48 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 pistols charged." — I desired him to explain h^w the 
 accident happened. "Being (said he) at a friend's 
 house in the country for a short time, I always slept 
 soundly, though my pistols were unloaded. It 
 happened, however, that one rainy afternoon, as I 
 was sitting idle, it unaccountably occurred to me, 
 that the house might be broken open and plundered 
 that night ; that the pistols might prevent it ; and 
 
 that but you know how indolence will sit and 
 
 imagine things : — The result was, that I gave t lern 
 to my servant to clean and load ; and he, thought- 
 less and playful, presented one at the maid, to 
 frighten her. — God knows how it happened, but 
 one of the pistols went off with the rammer in 
 it, which struck the girl's right hand, and tore off 
 her thumb. — The accident, it will be easily con- 
 ceived, occasioned a great deal of distress as well as 
 expense, for I had the surgeon's bill to pay. — Since 
 that period, I have always kept my pistols un- 
 charged. — But, indeed, how futile is all human 
 foresight ! — We can neither anticipate, nor avert the 
 dangers which lurk round us !" — Every thing in 
 Albert pleases me, except his indecds ; but, you 
 know, every rule has its exception. He is so parti- 
 cular in being correct, and such his love of veracity, 
 that if he have advanced any thing in argument 
 that may admit of a question, or be too vague or 
 undefined, he always qualifies and softens what he 
 has said with so many palliatives, that at the con- 
 clusion he appears to have said nothing at all. — 
 Albert following his general practice, was deeply 
 involved in commenting upon this subject, while I, 
 no longer attending to him, but wandering in 
 reveries, unconsciously placed the mouth of the 
 pistol against my forehead. "What are you at?" 
 exclaimed Albert, canting the pistol on one side, 
 and snatching it forcibly from my hand, " Why, it 
 •s not loaded!" I replied. "Admit it is not," he 
 •eplied vehemently; "what is the use of an action 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 49 
 
 which must have been directed by some motive ! — 
 To me, the man who would shoot himself, appears 
 as the worst of lunatics — the hare idea only makes 
 me tremolo !" " Where is the man," I retorted, 
 " who dare unhesiatingly aflirm that such an action 
 is mad or wise, right or wrong ? — To what docs your 
 hasty exclamation allude? — Have you fully weighed 
 the secret cause for such an action, whence it 
 sprang, and the necessity which made it irresistible ? 
 Had you investigated these sources, probably your 
 decision would have been less prompt." "Some 
 actions you will surely allow," said Albert, "are 
 in their very nature criminal, whatever be the mo- 
 tive from which they are committed." — I gave an 
 unmeaning assent, and proceeded : " Other excep- 
 tions, ray good friend, may be here brought forward. 
 — Robbery is confessedly a heinous crime, but the 
 wretch who is forcea into it by extreme want, who 
 lessens the store of the affluent to save his family 
 and himself from perishing — is he not rather an 
 object of pity than punishment ? — Who shall be the 
 first to throw a stone at the husband, who in the 
 natural ebullition of just resentment, sacrifices the 
 dishonoured wife and her base paramour ? — Would 
 any one denominate her as infamous, who has been 
 the credulous victim of some unprincipled seducer ? 
 — Even our own laws, rigid and unfeeling as they 
 are, listen to mercy, and remit the punishment." 
 " Such examples, however, (replied Albert) do not 
 in the least apply to the present case. — If a man be 
 swayed by rash and violent impulses, and be inca- 
 pable of reflecting, he is to be classed with the 
 drunkard and the maniac." — " O ye moralizers (I 
 exclaimed with a smile of contempt) with w hat ease 
 and apathy do you decide — while ycu talk of rash- 
 ness, inebriation, and lunacy, you remain tranquil 
 and unmoved, despise the inebriated — avoid the 
 insane — and, like the priest and the Pharisee, you 
 pass by en the oilier side, and ere grateful to God 
 
 Ee 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 that you are not such a one — I have myself been 
 more than once injured by liquor, and at such 
 times have committed the most foolish excesses, 
 which I feel no shame to confess. — It has been a 
 lesson to me ; when any man exhibits silverier 
 abilities, or performs any remarkable act of heroism, 
 the world considers him either as drunken or out of 
 his senses : — Indeed, even these weak notions obtain 
 in private life ; for what is said of the youth who is 
 very generous and daring ? — that he is besotted cr 
 mad. — Think of this, ye sages, ye philosophers, 
 and blush!" — "These are the extravagancies of 
 romance," said Albert; "you always exceed the 
 mark, and now wander very wide from the truth, 
 when you compare great actions with suicide, which 
 has always been looked upon as a w cakness. — To 
 sustain a life of wretchedness with fortitude is a 
 task much harder to perform than to end misfortune 
 by the stroke of death." 
 
 Tired of a conversation which disgusted me by 
 its trite and unmeaning sentiments, whilst I was ut 
 tering the feelings of my inmost soul, I was upon 
 the point of abruptly discontinuing it ; however, I 
 soon checked my impetuosity, recollecting that I 
 had lately often heard this contemptible argument 
 urged, without its making the least impression on 
 me. — But I observed farther, and with energy, 
 " while you denominate suicide a weakness, do not 
 be prejudiced by mere sound. Let us imagine that, 
 a nation, groaning under a cruel and despotic 
 tyranny, was to resist, and finally to throw off its 
 chains — is this victory to be called a weakness ?— 
 Suppose a house in flames, and the desperate ownei 
 exerts his strength in removing burthens which 
 before he could not move — or that a man, infur'ated 
 by revenge and injury, attacks and drives away hall 
 a dozen of his enemies — are these men to be called 
 weak ?— It follows, therefore, my friend, that if re- 
 sistance be a proof of fortitude, how can that which 
 
SORROWS OF WLfvTER. 
 
 51 
 
 is the greatest degree of all possible resistance be 
 denominated a weakness?" Albert regarded me 
 steadfastly for a moment, and then rejoined, "With 
 submission, I must acknowledge that all the in- 
 stances you have enumerated are irrelative to the 
 subject before us." " Very probably," I replied ; 
 " for it is not the first time I have been accused of 
 incongruity in my method of combining things. 
 But let us endeavour to place the object in another 
 point of view, and investigate the situation of that 
 man who is determined no longer to bear the load 
 of existence — that burthen of which all are so tena- 
 cious. — Let us make his feelings our own, without 
 which we cannot discuss the argument fairly. Human 
 nature (I proceeded) is bounded by certain con- 
 fines — that is, it can endure pleasure, wo, and 
 pain, but to a certain extent ; beyond which, it 
 ceases to be injured, and becomes insensible. — We 
 have nothing to do with the strength or weakness 
 of a man, but whether he can overstep these limits, 
 when mental or bodily evils overwhelm him. — No- 
 thing to me can be more absurd than to bestow the 
 appellation of coward on that man who puts an end 
 to his existence, unless it be to call him one who 
 dies of a malignant fever." "Mere hypothesis — all 
 paradox!" — exclaimed Albert! "Less so than ycu 
 imagine," I rejoined; "you will admit that a 
 disease is properly called fatal, when nature is so 
 morbidly attacked, and her powers so Tar sunken, 
 that what remains is inadequate to continue either 
 animation or circulation — this argument will adapt 
 itself to the soul, and let us investigate the impres- 
 sions and the ideas which act upon it, till at last 
 an irresistible passion obtains the dominion, weakens 
 the powers it once possessed, and entirely subdues 
 it ; — in vain does the man of strong sense and a 
 collected temper see the unhappy Situation of the 
 forlorn being, in such abject circumstances ; — with- 
 out effect he gives him counsel, and resembles a 
 
b2 SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 man in perfect health, who sits by the bed of his 
 dying friend, unable to impart to him the smallest 
 portion of his own vigour." 
 
 The inference to be drawn from this, Albert con- 
 tended was much too wide. — I then quoted the 
 story of the young woman, who lately drowned 
 herself, and which he had forgotten, tPl I men- 
 tioned it. — " An innocent young creature," said ], 
 " so habituated to the narrow sphere of family 
 concerns, and her weekly work, that her happiness 
 never extended beyond taking a walk in the mea- 
 dows on Sunday, and a dance at the holyday-fairs, 
 while the other little leisure she had, was passed in 
 talking with her acquaintance about the village 
 news and tittle-tattle. — Presently her heart is mfiated 
 with new wishes, occasioned by the flatteries of 
 the men ; her former artless pleasures become in- 
 sipid. — At length she accidentally meets with a 
 youth, who begets in her bosom a mutual and a 
 new affection ; from which period, her delight is all 
 centred in him ; she loses sight of every other ob- 
 ject in the world, and sees, hears, desires, and 
 meditates, only on her lover. — Her heart, unin- 
 fluenced by the baleful charm of variety and frivo- 
 lity, entertains no other hope than tobe his — dreams 
 of being his wedded wife, and doubts not of realiz- 
 ing that happiness — His promises, and ardent vows, 
 constantly^ renewed, confirm her hopes, her love 
 keeps pace with his fondness — her whole frame is 
 an anticipation of pleasure — of rapture — and, over- 
 come by the soft impulses, she extends her arms to 
 embrace the dear treasure of her affections. — Ah ! 
 unhappy delusion ! — her lover is faithless, per- 
 jured ! — he forsakes her, and she is distracted! — 
 Petrified ! — overwhelmed ! she stands senseless on 
 the brink of that abyss of misery which extends 
 around her darkness envelopes her — no gleam of 
 hope cheers her — he is gone — gone for ever — he 
 whose life was dearer to her than her own — and in 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 53 
 
 the midst of the universe, and surrounded by mini 
 berless admirers who would repair the injury she 
 has sustained, she feels cut off from society, and de- 
 serted by the world! — Thus blinded and impelled 
 by the keen goadings of grief and despair, she 
 plunges into the merciless deep, and sinks to rise 
 no more! — In this picture, Albert, is portrayed 
 the history of many men ; and let me ask, is it not 
 a similar case to illness? Nature finding no way 
 to escape, and sensible that her enfeebled energies 
 were incapable of contending with the accumulating 
 evil, her only refuge was death. — Shame on that 
 man who can listen to this pitiable story, and then 
 coldly exclaim, 4 A silly girl, why did not she wait 
 till time had worn off the impression ; — her despon- 
 dency would soon have become lighter, and a wor- 
 thier lover might have found the way to her heart !' 
 — With equal propriety might it be said, such a sim- 
 pleton died of a fever — if he would but have kept 
 himself cool, and Waited till his strength was quite 
 renovated, all would have been well enough, and he 
 might have been alive now!" 
 
 Albert would not still allow my comparison to be 
 just, and therefore suggested many objections : and, 
 among others, that I had advanced only the example 
 of a simple uninformed girl. He could not con- 
 ceive it possible that a man of education and mind, 
 whose views were enlarged, and whose consolations 
 were numerous in proportion, could commit an act 
 of suicide. " My good friend," said I, " though bless- 
 ed with a most enlightened education and the sound- 
 est intellect, a man is but a man ; and the reason he 
 possesses, when opposed to the ebullition of passiou, 
 or, more properly, when the limits of human nature 
 close in upon him, does not act at all, or with a 
 very feeble effect. — Again — But let us cease at pre- 
 sent, and resume the argument another time." — I 
 then abruptly took my leave and went cut — Alas! — 
 my heart was ready to burst, and we parted without 
 
54 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER 
 
 a perfect understanding on either side! — Ah! how 
 rarely do men comprehend each other ! 
 
 LETTER XXXII. 
 
 August 15. 
 
 DOUBTLESS the charm which renders us essen 
 tial to each other is a similarity of taste and senti 
 ment. — Charlotte, I am certain, cannot see me de 
 part without feeling some regret; and as to th* 
 children, they never let me go away on one day 
 without asking me to be sure and come the next.- 
 I visited them this evening that I might tune Char- 
 lotte's harpsichord ; but scarcely had I set my foot 
 within doors, when my intention was disappointed ; 
 for all the children came running to me, and en- 
 treated me to tell them a story. — Charlotte was will- 
 ing that I should indulge them. Having, therefore, 
 served out to tiiem their supper-bread, which they 
 accept from my hands as cheerfully as if it were 
 distributed by Charlotte, I told them my very best 
 tale of " Henry and Peter, or the Giant who was 
 served by Dwarfs." — Practice, I can assure you, has 
 considerably improved my fancy in this way ; and 
 the effect which such tales produce on the infant 
 mind is astonishing. — If I insert an incident more 
 than usual, in relating an old story, or omit to men- 
 tion, or even alter, any one, the arch little rogues 
 tell me " that it was not so the first time ;" hence I 
 now endeavour to be as exact in words and tone as 
 possible ; and indeed this trifling circumstance has 
 convinced me that an author may injure his works 
 by altering, and even amending, the successive edi- 
 tions. The first impression sinks the deepest, and 
 with the credulous it can rarely be effaced ; nay, he 
 will be vainly employed who endeavours to eradi- 
 cate it. 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER 
 
 LETTER XXXIII. 
 
 August 18 
 
 CAN it be possible that the same cause which first 
 constituted man's highest enjoyment should after- 
 ward be productive of his misery ? — The warm ad- 
 miration of nature which formerly animated my 
 breast, which flowed upon mc in a torrent of rap- 
 ture, and placed me in an ideal paradise, is now 
 become an insupportable anguish, a demon which 
 follows and goads me unremittingly. — Formerly J 
 scaled the summit of the lofty rocks, ucul there con 
 templated the line river which, to a trackless dis 
 tance, meanders through this fertile piain. — Every 
 thing then flourished, grew, and expanded — AH 
 around me was in activity. — The mountains were 
 clothed to their highest points with tall and tufted 
 trees, and the serpentine valleys were shaded by 
 friendly woods. — The pensive stream stole its way 
 through the trembling reeds, and reflected from its 
 lucid bosom the light cloud which dwelt in the air, 
 floating on the gentlest zephyrs. — I heard the fea- 
 thered harmonists enlivening the woods with their 
 carols. — The purple rays of the sun teemed with my- 
 riads of sportive animalcule, and the busy hum of 
 the grasshoppers at evening attracted my earnest 
 notice. The arid rock nourished the moss, and the 
 sands below were encrusted with thick broom. — 
 The genial glow which animates all nature filled and 
 warmed my heart ; and I was lost in the glorious 
 idea of infinity. Stupendous mountains reared their 
 heads above me — rude fragments of rock and shagged 
 precipices lay at my feet — cataracts dashed down by 
 my side — impetuous rivers rolled through the plain 
 —Echo repeated every sound from rock to rock, and 
 cave to cave — in the bowels of the earth incalcula- 
 ble powers were in motion, and multiplying end- 
 lessly. — While the host of created existences, of in- 
 numerable kinds and shapes, dwell upon the earth, 
 
50 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER 
 
 or hover in the air, man sneaks into his little hut, 
 and peeping out, bombastically exclaims, "Behold, I 
 am the lord of this vast universe !" — Perishable 
 creature ! — every thing appears little to thee, for 
 thou art littleness itself. — Cragged mountains — path- 
 less wilds — the fathomless confines of immense 
 oceans — are all upholden by the spirit of the Eter- 
 nal, and every atom which he has called into exist- 
 ence is the specific object of his providential care! 
 Oh, how often, while borne away by this train of 
 thought, have I wished, as some bird of prey darted 
 over my head through the liquid air, that I could 
 mount upon its pinion, and traverse the immensity 
 of space — there, transported to some blissful region, 
 quench my thirst at the fountain of eternal joy — 
 there partake, if but for a moment, witli my con- 
 tracted soul, of the beatitude of that immortal 
 Omnipotent, " in whom we live, and move, and have 
 our being !" 
 
 The bare recollection of these hours, my dear 
 friend, is still dear to my heart; but when my vehe- 
 ment mind recalls those sensations which furnish me 
 with the powers of description, then do I soar above 
 myself, and feel my present misery with a double 
 keenness. 
 
 The curtain descends — the scene is changed; — 
 the beautiful prospect of eternal life is become a 
 bottomless pit, yawning to enguiph me. — How can 
 we assert that any thing does exist, when all is 
 transient ? — When time in its rapid progress carries 
 every thing with it, and our fleeting life, hurried 
 down the torrent, is either overwhelmed by the 
 waves or dashed to pieces against the rocks : Not 
 a moment passes without a tendency hostile to my 
 own preservation, and that of all I see ; and, in 
 turn, I am myself every moment a destroyer. — An 
 innocent walk deprives thousands of unoffending 
 insects of life : at one step the mazy habitation of 
 the industrious ant is ruined, and a world in minia 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 57 
 
 ture is crushed into a chaotic mass. — Believe me, it 
 is not the great and unexpected calamities of the 
 world, the inundations which overwhelm whole vil- 
 lages, the earthquakes that entomb whole cities, 
 which excite my feelings, and sensibly moves me : 
 No ! — the worm that gnaws niG is that hidden de- 
 structive principle which operates in all the arcana 
 of nature. — Her greatest works all contain within 
 themselves the seeds of their own dissolution j every 
 thing acts to its own destruction, and that of what- 
 ever is contiguous : Hence, while I am environed by 
 earth and air, and all their secret active influences, 
 I wander sorrowful and dejected, devoid of comfort j 
 and the whole universe appears to me an insatiable 
 monster, continually employed in devouring and re- 
 gorging its aliment. 
 
 LETTER XXXIV. 
 
 August 2). 
 
 WHEN an ominous dream awakens me in the 
 morning, I stretch out my arms to enfold her, but 
 she is not near me ! — When a pleasing vision has 
 placed her at my side in the meadows, and I have 
 pressed her hand, imprinting on it a thousand kisses, 
 I turn and look round for her in vain! — Alas, in 
 my slumbers, I fondly think I touch her ; and then, 
 when I am wholly awake, my eyes run down with 
 tears, and my heart beats with anguish. Then, be- 
 reaved of all comfort, I brood over the evils my 
 invagination anticipates. 
 
 LETTER XXXV. 
 
 August 22. 
 
 MY situation is really pitiable ! — My energetic 
 temper has degenerated into an irksome indolence, 
 and I can neither enjoy idleness, nor relish em- 
 ployment. Thinking is odious, it only increases my 
 malady ; and, insensible to the charms of nature, 
 books to me are tasteless and unentertaining. One 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER 
 
 master-object sways my mind, and all, except that, 
 forsake me. I wish frequently that I were a me- 
 chanic, that I might be employed from the time I 
 arose at some useful work, and thus divert the 
 gloomy ideas which intrude through the day. What 
 an enviable man is Albert, busied over his files of 
 papers and parchments ! and how often do I say to 
 myself, Ah! were I in his situation I yhculd be 
 happy. How ! — in his situation — ah ! then I should 
 be happy ; then would Charlotte— — Hold ! no far- 
 ther at present ! 
 
 I have several times taken up my pen to write to 
 the minister for the place which you think I might, 
 on application, obtain ; indeed, from the kind ad- 
 vice, promises, and civilities I have received from 
 him, I should be induced to flatter myself that n y 
 request would not be unsuccessful. I know he lias 
 several in his gift, the service of which is neither 
 irksome nor laborious; but when, on a second con- 
 sideration, the fable of the horse recurs to my mh:d, 
 who had no sooner submitted to be bridled and 
 saddled, than he regretted the loss of liberty, I am 
 quite undetermined how to act. Again, my good 
 friend, does not this desire of change arise from a 
 restless errant disposition, which would equally 
 haunt me in every situation while I am under the 
 influence of love ? 
 
 LETTER XXXVI. 
 
 Jlugust 28. 
 
 WERE my disorder of a nature to be relieved, I 
 should certainly find a cure with these excellent 
 people. This day, my friend, gave me birth, and, 
 early in the morning, Albert sent me a small 
 parcel ; having opened it, I saw one of the sleeve- 
 knots, a pale pink ribbon, which Charlotte wore the 
 first time I beheld her, and which I have several 
 times requested her to give me as a mark of esteem. 
 Albert likewise enclosed two volumes of Wetstein's 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 59 
 
 Homer, in 12m-o. which is a more portable size than 
 the Ernesti Edition, and were what I had often 
 wished for. How kindly do they anticipate my 
 wishes ; how well do they understand these minor 
 attentions of friendship, so much more endearing 
 than the magnificent gifts of the great, which only 
 humble the receiver. I pressed the ribbon to my 
 lips a thousand times, and at every kiss brought 
 into memory the blissful days which are for ever 
 departed ! — Ah me ! — my hard fate — but I will not 
 murmur at it. So do the sweetest blossoms of life 
 flourish for a moment, and in the next decay — some 
 are early cut off, and leave not a vestige behind : 
 If a few set into fruit, how seldom does it come to 
 perfection ; and, even that little which does, is too 
 often neglected, and suffered to perish. The variety 
 of seasons, however, must be taken into the ac- 
 count, which are in fact as fluctuating as ourselves. 
 
 Adieu. The weather is incomparably fine. When 
 in Charlotte's orchard, I frequently climb one of 
 the trees, and select the finest pears Tor her, while 
 she stands under, and receives them in her apron. 
 
 LETTER XXXVII. 
 
 August 30. 
 
 WHAT a wretch am I — one who takes pleasure in 
 deceiving himself, and playing the part of an idiot ' 
 — Why cherish this ardent and boundless passion ! — ■ 
 All my prayers are addressed to Charlotte ; my 
 fancy hovers round her; all that surrounds me is 
 regarded, only as it reminds me of her. When she 
 is with me, then are my hours happy ; but, often 
 am I obliged from the state of my heart to sever 
 myself from her, when I have been seated for a 
 time by her side, contemplating her fine proportions 
 and attitudes, and listening to the melodious ac- 
 cents of her voice ; the gust of delight takes pos- 
 session of me, my heart palpitates, my sight is 
 confused, and I become ins '.in Lie to what I am, or 
 
60 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 whether I exist : — then, if she seem cold, if she 
 deny me the melancholy consolation of bathing her 
 hand with my tears, I am driven to the necessity of 
 leaving her : — then do I stray about the meadows, 
 or climb the steep rocks : I break through thickets, 
 and wound myself with the thorns and brambles ; 
 and thus obtain some relief to my anguish by vary- 
 ing the scene. Sometimes, sinking with fatigue and 
 thirst, I lie stretched like a corpse on the earth ; 
 sometimes, in the sequestered wood, when the pale 
 moon, in the dead night, shines serenely on my 
 head, I lean against a crooked tree to ease my 
 weary feet, and overcome by the want of balmy rest, 
 sleep till the radiant sun rises, and interrupts my 
 repose. Ah, my friend, the deep dungeon, its 
 chains, its straw, and even the rack, would be a 
 pleasure to what I endure ! — Adieu. The grave can 
 alone terminate those pangs — that abode, where 
 every misery is excluded. 
 
 LETTER XXXVIII. 
 
 Sept 3. 
 
 IT is decided — I will quit this place ! — I thank 
 you, my dear friend, for your good counsel, which 
 has effected this resolution. I had determined to 
 leave her this fortnight past, but now it is fixed. 
 She is gone to town, to visit an intimate friend, and 
 Albert — Albert accompanies her. — I must leave this 
 place without delay. 
 
 LETTER XXXIX. 
 
 Sept. 10. 
 
 AH, me ! What a dreadful night have I passed ! 
 — Henceforward, surely I shall not shrink at any 
 situation ! — My friend, I shall never behold her 
 more ! — Alas ! no more ; — Oh ! that I could hang on 
 your neck, pour my full heart into your bosom, and 
 receive back your sympathizing consolations ! — I 
 endeavour to calm my perturbed spirits, and pre- 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 6! 
 
 serve some composure of mind, at least till the day- 
 light, when I have ordered post horses, and hope 
 to be far removed from this spot. Charlotte is now 
 in her slumbers — unconscious that she will never 
 behold me again ! — I tore myself abruptly from her, 
 and had that self-command not to betray a sus- 
 picion of my intention, during a conversation which 
 continued two hours. — O heaven ! — what illumina- 
 tion and intellect were in her discourse ! 
 
 Albert had promised to meet Charlotte and me 
 in the garden, directly after supper : I was standing 
 upon the terrace, under the shady chesnut-trees, 
 admiring, for the last time, the sun's beautiful 
 descent below this delightful vale and rippling 
 stream. Charlotte and 1 had often sauntered on 
 the same spot, and viewed the same glorious object. 
 I was particularly attached to this place, before 1 
 knew Charlotte ; a secret sympathy seemed to bind 
 ine to it ; and my predilection was farther increased, 
 when I found in our earlier friendship, that she 
 had selected this as her favourite promenade. The 
 prospect from under these chesnut-trees is exten- 
 sive ; but I need not state this here, as I have be- 
 fore described to you the manner in which the lofty 
 copses close it in at the end, and how the walk 
 through the wood becomes gradually darker till it 
 terminates in a recess, formed by a group of um- 
 brageous trees, adapted for the indulgence of soli- 
 tude and contemplation. — I still recollect the 
 soothing melancholy which filled my heart on my 
 first entrance into this pensive retreat : it was then 
 the noon of day, and the sensation which came 
 over my mind was certainly a secret presentiment 
 that it would one day be to me a scene of delight 
 and anguish. 
 
 Half an hour having been occupied in the opposite 
 ideas of my departure and return, I heard them ad- 
 vancing on the terrace, and flew to meet them, at 
 the same time trembling bv taking Charlotte's hand 
 Ff 
 
02 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 and kissing it. — As soon as we had arrived at the 
 top of the terrace, the moon peeped her silver edge 
 over the pinetops that skirted the distant mountains; 
 and we continued in general conversation, till we 
 came to the romantic recess at the end of the avenue. 
 Charlotte first entered this beloved spot, and seated 
 herself. Albert took his place on one side, and I 
 on tile other; but, such was the agitation of my bo- 
 som, that I could not long remain at ease; I arose, 
 stood before her, and after taking several turns back- 
 wards and forwards, again resumed my seat, full of 
 the most unquiet emotions. 
 
 Charlotte made us notice the Heightened effect 
 which the moon's light received at the end of the 
 wood, from the darkness of the grove in which we 
 were ; the gloomy dignity of this mixed scene was 
 m unison with the melancholy of my soul. — It was-, 
 my dear friend, sublimity impressive ! — Charlotte, 
 at length, broke the reverie in which wc all seemed 
 absorbed. " Whenever I walk by moonlight, I re- 
 call to memory those objects whom once I loved, 
 and who are now no more ! — Those introduce the 
 thoughts of death and a world to come — Yes ! (she 
 proceeded in a tone of assurance and tenderness.) 
 We shall have an existence hereafter — but in what 
 form, Werter ? — Shall we recognize each other ? — 
 What anticipations have you, and what is your opi- 
 nion on this head ?" 
 
 " Charlotte," said I, holding out my hand to her, 
 and the tears flowing from my eyes, "We shall, I 
 trust, behold each other again, both in this and a fu- 
 ture state !" — I could not proceed. — Ought she, my 
 dear friend, to have proposed such a cruel question 
 to me, at the moment when my heart was bursting 
 with the thought of separation ? 
 
 " Ah ! (said Charlotte,) I wonder if those whom 
 we have loved, and whose memory is still dear to 
 us, are sensible in their blessed state of our regard, 
 and the happy hours we once passed together?— 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 C3 
 
 When I am seated in a calm evening in the midst 
 of the little innocents my dear mother left behind, 
 and they assemble round me as tfeey did about 
 her, I fancy that her sacred shade hovers over us; 
 then do I raise my tearful eyes to heaven, and pray 
 that she may behold me from* her celestial abode, 
 fulfilling the promise I made to her in her dying 
 moments, to be a mother to her infants ! — Re- 
 peatedly have I exclaimed * Most excellent of 
 mothers, pardon my incapacity, if I am not to them 
 all that you once were !' — Ah ! if I am not all that 
 she was, I strive to be all that I can : I see they are 
 properly clothed and nourished ; and, farther, that 
 they are tenderly treated and carefully educated. — 
 Oh ! could she but be sensible of the harmony which 
 reigns among us ; how would she adore and bless 
 that immortal parent to whom, with her last breath, 
 she addressed such fervent prayers for our hap- 
 piness!" — She spoke for some time longer on this 
 theme, but my pen must fail in endeavouring to 
 repeat her exalted sentiments — the energetic lan- 
 guage of genius and piety cannot be conveyed by 
 cold inanimate characters! 
 
 Albert here tenderly interrupted her. " My 
 lovely Charlotte, (s^ud he) you indulge too much 
 in these sensibilities ; it is true such recollections are 
 pleasing, but they ought to be seldom touched upon." 
 " You cannot forget, Albert, (said she) the sweet even- 
 ings when we three used to sit at our little round table, 
 in the absence of my father, and after the children 
 were put to bed. You generally brought a book in 
 your hand, but you seldom read any of it, so much 
 preferable was the intelligent conversation of tha 
 enlightened woman to every other allurement. Oh, 
 what a model she was of serenity and sensibility ! 
 of activity and mental arrangement ! — Heaven can 
 witness how often T have knelt, and earnestly prayed 
 that I might bear some resemblance to her perfec- 
 tions I** 
 
64 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 Throwing myself at her feet, I pressed her hand, 
 and bathed it with my tears. " O Charlotte, Char- 
 lotte !" I exclaimed with energy, " the spirit of your 
 mother, and the blessing of heaven, rest upon 
 you !" — She took my hand, which, like hers, was 
 wet with tears, and said, "had you but known her, 
 Werter, she would not have been found undeserving 
 even of your friendship !" — I stood motionless, 
 overcome with a sense of the highest compliment 
 I had ever received. She then proceeded : " This 
 most excellent woman died in the flower of life ; her 
 youngest child had scarcely attained its sixth month 
 — her illness soon terminated, but during that period, 
 oh ! what calmness and resignation she displayed ! — 
 Her principal anxiety arose from her children, and 
 more particularly on account of the youngest. 
 Feeling the indications of approaching dissolution, 
 she bid me summon them to her ; — they came and 
 knelt round the bed of death, the less ones insensi- 
 ble of the loss they were to experience, and the elder 
 ones sobbing with filial sorrow. She then extended 
 her feeble hands towards heaven, and earnestly en- 
 treated the great Parent of all to be their father; having 
 kissed them successively, she bid them retire, and ad- 
 dressed me: "Charlotte," said she, "be to them a 
 mother!" I pressed her hand, in silent token of my 
 assent. "I hope much from you, my child ; even a 
 mother's fondness and a mother's care ! Your filial 
 obedience, your affectionate and grateful tears, 
 convince me that you already have a heart alive to 
 the yearnings of maternal tenderness — extend it to 
 your brothers and sisters; be as dutiful to your 
 father as you have been to me, and be to him the 
 emblem of a faithful wife, the solace and the sun- 
 shine of his sinking age !" — Here she inquired for 
 her husband, but he had withdrawn to indulge more 
 freely in the luxury of solitude and sorrow : he had 
 anticipated the loss he was about to sustain, and 
 his bursting heart was full of anguish. You, Albert, 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 05 
 
 were in the room at this time — she heard some ono 
 move, and, on being told who it was, desired you 
 to come near her. Gazing on us for a few moments 
 with a look of serenity and delight, she articulated, 
 "You are formed for each other! — You will be 
 happy together !" — Albert, with a tender embrace, 
 interrupted her, and exclaimed, " Yes, my beloved 
 Charlotte, we are and we shall be happy toge- 
 ther !" — Even the stoical Albert was melted into 
 softness by the affecting scene, and I was almost in- 
 sensible with sorrow. 
 
 "Such was the woman, Werter, (she continued; 
 Who was to be snatched from her fond family ! — 
 Gracious heaven ! must we thus be divided from 
 those whom we most dearly love ! — Ah ! the chil- 
 dren's sobs still sound in my ears ; they w r ept and 
 lamented for a long time afterward, and innocently 
 said that black men had carried away their dear 
 mamma !" 
 
 Charlotte now rising from her seat, I was reused ; 
 3'et I continued to sit, still holding her hand. " It 
 i-s time to go, (said she) for it is late !" — While she 
 said this, she motioned to withdraw her hand, but I 
 held it more firmly. " We shall behold each other 
 again!" I exclaimed; "we shall recognize each 
 other hereafter, whatever be the form assigned us. 
 I leave you — it is my own determination ; but, if I 
 thought I were never to behold you again, it would 
 be more than my heart could bear. Adieu, Char- 
 lotte — Farewell, Albert ! — Ah ! we shall see e#ch 
 other again." "O yes! to-morrow, to be sure!" 
 said Charlotte, with a smile. That to-morrow, my 
 dear friend, was a dagger to my soul ! — Ah ! me, 
 how reluctantly she seemed to withdraw her hand ! 
 —They walked down the avenue, while I arose, and 
 stood gazing after them by the light of the moon, 
 till, in a phrensy of passion, I projected myself to 
 the earth, and gave vent to the conflicts that rent 
 my bosom — I then started up, and ran up the ter- 
 
66 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 race, where, under the shade of the lime-trees, J 
 could still discern her white gown moving toward:* 
 the garden gate. My arms were instinctively ex- 
 tended after her, but in vain ! — The angel in a mo- 
 ment after disappeared ! 
 
 LETTER XL, 
 
 October 20 
 
 I ARRIVED at this place yesterday evening, 
 and, observant of my promise, write to you as early 
 as possible. The minister is indisposed with the 
 gout, and tins, of course, will increase his native 
 spleen and ill-humour. I perceive but too clearly 
 that heaven has destined me to endure severe trials, 
 but I will not despond, nor be discouraged. I must 
 study to acquire some levity; — the very idea of this 
 word, which has inadvertently escaped my pen, 
 makes me smile — for I am convinced that a little 
 of this light quality is all that I require to make 
 me the most happy and easy of mortals I — But why 
 should I mistrust the faculties and powers which 
 nature has bestowed on me, to effect this purpose, 
 while I perceive others of much weaker intellect 
 and talent strutting about, in all the self-important 
 pride of the peacock, with nothing to render them 
 happy but their gaudy covering? — Almighty Provi 
 dence, why among the blessings thou hast deigned 
 to enrich me with, didst thou omit those of confi- 
 dence and internal serenity! — I hear you whisper, 
 " Patience, Werter, and all will soon be better : 
 time can perform wonders, and all things are in a 
 state of change !" — I will candidly confess, my 
 friend, that you have decided rightly ; — for, since 
 that I have been obliged to mix with company, and 
 have turned my attention to their schemes, their 
 actions, and their conversations, I have become less 
 dissatisfied with myself. As we naturally draw 
 comparisons between ourselves and the objects which 
 surround us, our happiness or misery is dependent 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 67 
 
 dissatisfied with myself. As we naturally draw 
 comparisons between ourselves and the objects which 
 surround us, our happiness or misery is dependent 
 on and connected with these ; hence nothing is 
 more dangerous to the gloomy mind than solitude, 
 which gives new wings to the restless fancy, and 
 bids it wander among a world of visionary exist- 
 ences, compared to whom we hold ourselves as the 
 most light and insignificant. — All things appear more 
 important than they really are, and all men superior 
 to ourselves, which is a natural operation of the 
 mind* We admire in others those qualifications 
 which we do not possess, and are always under- 
 valuing our own worth: — thus we create the image 
 of a perfect happy being— while, in fact, the whole 
 is a creature of the imagination. 
 
 On the contrary, however, when in defiance of 
 irresolution and disappointment we earnestly direct 
 our efforts to one point, and never deviate from the 
 course we proposed, it will be found that we have 
 made greater progress, though continually on the 
 traverse, than others with all the assistance of wind 
 and tide ; and that judgment which we form of our- 
 selves, by a comparison with others, whether we keep 
 on a line with, be ahead, or astern of them, will be 
 found to be correct. 
 
 LETTER XLI. 
 
 Nov. 10, 
 
 MY situation every day becomes more tolerable : 
 My time is constantly occupied, so numerous are 
 the actors who surround me, the various characters 
 they play, and the amusing diversity of the scenes 
 they exhibit. — I have formed an acquaintance with 
 
 the Count of , and he daily increases in my 
 
 esteem. He possesses a sound understanding and 
 keen penetration $ yet these superior qualities have 
 not rendered him reserved and morose ; on the con- 
 trary, he displays much cheerfulness, mildness, and 
 great sensibility. I first met huh in consequence of 
 
CS SOß.lO'.VS 07 fF3&T|£fk 
 
 gome business we had to adjrrst, and, vrt gtyolt rar?* 
 ceived a presentment for each other : He spoke to 
 me with a frankness and affability that demanded 
 mine, and hence we laid aside all ceremony, an- 1 
 conversed on the most friendly terms. The unre- 
 served confidence of such a mind as his, while it 
 is highly gratifying, has a tendency to soften the 
 pains which throb in a heart constituted lik? your 
 friend's — you have lorn; known its failings, and f am 
 sure will draw a veil over them. 
 
 LETTER XLI.I. 
 
 JSTov. 11. 
 
 1 IMAGINED it would be so — the minister and 1 
 are quite dissatisfied with eacli other: ho is certainly 
 the most punctilious blockhead existing, anil os full 
 of etiquette and formality as an old maid. Dis- 
 satisfied with himself, is it to be accounted singular 
 that he should not be pleased with others? — I like 
 to proceed in business with correctness and des- 
 patch, and when it is finished, to have done with 
 it ; but this is not his way. If I have made a draft 
 of any papers, he will, on its being presented, give 
 it me back, saying, "It may do — but revise it, how- 
 ever again ; there is always some trifle t<5 correct — 
 you may think cf a bettor phrase or a stronger 
 word." Away then flies all my forbearance, and I 
 curse him and his precision. Not a conjunction, 
 nor the most trifling mark must be omitted, and as 
 to those transpositions which constitute my favour- 
 ite style of composition, he detests them. Every sen- 
 tence must be agreeable to the quaint form of office, 
 or it will not do. Yon know my utter aversion to 
 such barbarous rules, and can therefore the more 
 easily imagine bow much I suffer from such a parti- 
 cular character. 
 
 My only consolation under this trouble is the 
 
 agreeable intimacy I have formed with Count , 
 
 who very candidly told me, the other day, how 
 Weary ho was of the tardiness' and extrejv.s caption 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 C9 
 
 of tiie minister. " Persons of this humour," said 
 he, " not only are a burthen to themselves, but to 
 all those who have transactions with them. We 
 have no remedy, but to suppose ourselves in the 
 situation of a traveller who is compelled to go over 
 a mountain to gain his proper road ; if the moun- 
 tain were not in his way, Lis path would be so much 
 less short and fatiguing — but, since it is so, he must 
 patiently travel over it !" 
 
 The old gentleman cces that I am a favourite 
 with the Count, and this augments his dislike, which 
 lie displays at every opportunity when I am pre- 
 sent, by endeavouring to appreciate him in my 
 esteem : in return, I defend him, and that increases 
 his displeasure. Yesterday, T was sensible that the 
 same stroke he aimed at my friend, was meant tft 
 hit me. — He observed, that the Count might do very 
 wnJl for the common-place business of the world, 
 that his style was tolerable, and he wrote fluently — 
 but that he, like oxher fine geniuses, had no claim 
 to solid knowledge ! — The tone and manner in 
 which this was delivered, and the look that he fixed 
 on me, might be interpreted to mean — the allusion 
 is meant for you. — But I passed it as a thing un- 
 worthy my notice — for to what purpose is argument 
 with such stupid animals ? — With respect to the 
 Count, however, I replied with some warmth, "that 
 his understanding and behaviour entitled him to 
 the respect of every one ; and that he was the only 
 gentleman I had met with, who while he possessed 
 talents so superior to the mass of mankind, yet re- 
 tained an equal promptitude in the despatch of 
 business." This was all algebra to him; and, to 
 avoid giving him any farther opportunity of inveig.h- 
 ing against a character so much b r tter than his, and 
 lest his absurdity should excite my resentment, I 
 immedi ately wi thdre w» 
 
 You, my friend, I must consider as one of the 
 authors of my present bondage. You employed 
 * G 
 
70 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 remonstrance and persuasion in favour of activity 
 and I consented to wear the heavy chain. If the 
 man who plants potatoes and carries them to 
 market, be not more active and useful than I am, 
 then may I tug ten years longer at the cursed oar to 
 which I am lashed ! — What irksomenessand insipidity 
 abound in the circles of fashionable life — ambitious 
 of rank and honours, how do they toil and watch 
 for precedency ! — and, in every thing they do, ex 
 pose their grovelling selfish disposition ; for ex- 
 ample, we have a lady here, whose whole conversa- 
 tion in company is directed to impress them with 
 the greatness of her family, and the value of her 
 estates. A stranger to this silly character, would 
 certainly conclude, on hearing her boasting, that she 
 had at least some pretence to rank or property ; but, 
 to render the ridicule complete, she is nothing morf. 
 than the daughter of a steward's clerk in the vicinity ! 
 — How strange is it, that any one should study to be- 
 come despicable ! 
 
 Daily do I perceive more clearly, my friend, the 
 impropriety of making ourselves a standard to mea- 
 sure others, seeing that it is with the greatest diffi- 
 culty I can repress the sallies of my own heated ima 
 gination, and calm the emotions of my bosom. I 
 leave every one to pursue the path he has chosen, 
 let me only be indulged with the same privilege. 
 
 I am principally disgusted with empty distinctions 
 which subsist among fellow-citizens. I am perfectly 
 sensible that an inequality of condition is indispen- 
 sable among men ; and that I am myself indebted to 
 this system ; — I only request that it may not be a bar 
 to the small share of enjoyment which this world ot 
 unhappiness affords. 
 
 In one of my bte trips, I became acquainted with 
 the charming Miss B , whose unaffected and en- 
 gaging behaviour forms a lively contrast to the for- 
 mality and stiffness of her neighbours At our first 
 meeting we enjoyed a mutually pleas ^.nd unre 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 71 
 
 strained conversation, and when we parted, I en- 
 treated permission to wait upon her at her resi- 
 dence, which she complied witli in such an en- 
 gaging manner, that I am impatient till a proper 
 opportunity shall enable me to accept her invitation. 
 She is not a native of this place, but is at present 
 with her aunt, whose pompous countenance dis 
 gusted me at the first view ; however, for the young 
 lady's sake, I showed her great respect, and fre- 
 quently addressed myself to her. In about half an 
 hour I had nearly penetrated into all that her niece 
 has since told me ; that her aunt, who is advanced 
 in years, and possessed of a small income, with a 
 less share of understanding, takes no other pleasure 
 Than that of relating her long and illustrious pedi- 
 gree : under cover of her nobility of birth she stands 
 entrenched, and her greatest amusement is to sit 
 at her window, and look down with imperial con- 
 tempt on the ignoble heads which pass under in the 
 street. Formerly this old dame was accounted 
 handsome ; and, while in the flower of her spring, 
 she coquetted with many a worthy youth who would 
 have married her — this was her golden age ! — When 
 her beauty faded, she was reduced to accept of an 
 old officer, and serve under her moroce commander 
 — this was her brazen age ! — She is now a widow — 
 and deserted ; and, were it not for the affability of 
 her agreeable niece, she would be altogether for 
 saken — the last may be called her iron age ! 
 
 LETTER XLIII. 
 
 Jan. 8, 1772 
 
 WHAT kind of characters are these ? — their minds 
 are perpetually occupied about forms ; they can 
 spend a whole year in insignificantly contriving how 
 they may advance one chair's breadth nearer to 
 the upper end of the table. — But such triflers are 
 not idle: on the contrary, they add to their la- 
 bours by bestowing on empty pursuits that time 
 
72 
 
 SORROWS OF V.ERTER. 
 
 Mvhich should be employed in more important con- 
 cerns. — Last week a grand party was made to enjoy 
 the diversions of the ice, in sledges ; but, a childish 
 dispute arising about precedency, it was instantly 
 dissolved. "What idiots — not to perceive that rank 
 can never constitute true greatness! — lie v\I;o fills 
 the highest station is not always the principal actcr 
 — many a monarch is controlled by his minister, and 
 many a minister by his secretary. In such uncer- 
 tainty, who is to be called the grand mover? — Cer- 
 tainly it must be he who has the address and ability 
 to bend the passions and power of others to the pro- 
 motion of his own designs. 
 
 LETTER XLIV. 
 
 Jan. SO. 
 
 THIS letter my dear Charlotte, is written in a 
 humble cottage, to which -I am indebted for pro- 
 tection during the continuance of a tremendous 
 storm. All the time of my residence in the dreary 
 town of D among strangers — such they are in- 
 deed to the emotions of my heart — I have not been 
 disposed to write to you ; but no sooner had I en- 
 tered this secluded hove), against the little window 
 of which the snow and hail were beating, than I 
 felt restored to you and myself. Immediately I set 
 foot within, your figure was present to my eyes, 
 and your remembrance swelled my heart. — Ah, Char- 
 lotte ! that sacred remembrance — those endearing 
 recollections! — Gracious heaven — Oh, that the first 
 moment when I beheld you could be restored! 
 
 Could you, my beloved Charlotte, but view me in 
 that vortex by which I am surrounded, where all 
 is dissipation, and to me vacuity ! — Indifference 
 fastens on me ; my heart is unmoved — the tear of 
 sympathy no longer tfjfcps from my eye, the 
 moisture is dried up — I stand as it were steadfastly 
 gaping* at a raree-show, the great r:nd small pup- 
 pets of which dance bet' re my eyes, while I say to 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER 
 
 73 
 
 myself, — is not all this a mere optical deception ? — 
 These puppets divert me with their pranks ; or, 
 rather, I afford them a similar entertainment. If I 
 take hold of my neighbour's hand, it feels like a 
 composition of wood, and I withdraw mine terrified 
 and disappointed. When night comes, I propose to 
 enjoy the sunrise of the following morning — but I 
 have no resolution to quit my bed. I wish in the 
 morning to take a walk in the moonlight of evening 
 — but something detains me in my chamber. I rise 
 and go to bed, without a consciousness of what I do 
 — and all the ideas which charm me at night and 
 awaken me in the morning speedily vanish away. 
 
 There is, at least as far as I have seen, but one 
 
 female here (a Miss B ) who is of the same order 
 
 of beings with yourself. She is your counterpart, 
 Charlotte, if any one can be said to resemble you. 
 " Ah !" you will exclaim, " he has learned to make 
 elegant compliments !" — Indeed the remark is true : 
 — I have become lately extremely polite, not having 
 it in my power to be more usefully employed. The 
 ladies extol my wit, and allow that I am unequalled 
 in the art of flattery — "and falsehoods" — you will 
 add ; for one is always the companion of the other. 
 
 Let me, however, return to Miss B . She is a 
 
 girl of a lively sensibility and a superior under- 
 standing, both of which are expressed in her fine 
 blue eyes. She finds her rank burthensome, since 
 that neither gratifies nor creates one inclination. 
 The vacuity of high life feeds her contempt of it ; 
 and hence we often indulge for hours together, in 
 the pleasures of imagination, conversing upon tiie 
 Bweets of tranquillity and rural scenery. This leads 
 us to think of you, my dear Charlotte, for you are 
 
 not unknown to Miss B , who respects you— 
 
 but her esteem is voluntary, not exacted : she ad- 
 mires you, and always bears me dwell upon your 
 name with pleasure. 
 
 Would that I could be at vour side, in that fa/ 
 
74 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 vourite little room where the dear children used to 
 frolic around us ! — When they were too tiresome, 
 I used to tell them a story — then they would sur- 
 round me, and listen with such eagerness and at- 
 tention ! 
 
 The sun has almost descended — his parting beams 
 still glitter on the snow which covers the face of 
 trto country ! — The storm is past, and I must return 
 to ny cell ; adieu ! — Is Albert with you ? — What 
 is he to you ? — What a foci am I to ask such a ques- 
 tion ! 
 
 LETTER XLV. 
 
 Feb. 17. 
 
 A SEPARATION must soon take place between 
 our minister and I ; for it is imposible we can agree 
 much longer together. lie is so dogmatic, his me- 
 thod of transacting business so absurd, that I cannot 
 refrain from expostulating with him, and even 
 following my own plans in opposition to his, which 
 he, of course, reprobates as erroneous. He has 
 hinted something about my refractoriness, in a letter 
 he lately sent to court, and I have received a re- 
 primand from the prime minister there — couched, 
 indeed, in very gentle terms — but still it was a re- 
 primand. I had. determined to send in my resigna- 
 tion, but I received a private letter from the same 
 person, which, while it humbled me in my own 
 opinion, filled me with admiration of the profound, 
 dignified, and exalted genius, by which it was dic- 
 tated It endeavoured to soothe my mental irrita- 
 bility by the most persuasive arguments ; candidly 
 expressed an approbation of my schemes, of their 
 weight and influence ; and condescended to approve 
 of that ardency and impetuosity so natural to youth 
 — but then, while he cautioned me not to extinguish 
 this fire, he charged me to keep it within due 
 bounds, that it might not prove injurious ! — Again, 
 then, I am at rest within myself, and taught to be 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 75 
 
 serene — at least for a week to come. Contentment 
 and harmony of soul are great blessings, my dear 
 friend, but unhappily, they are as transitory as they 
 are precious ! 
 
 LETTER XLVI. 
 
 Feb. 20. 
 
 HEAVEN preserve you, my dear friend ! and 
 may you enjoy that happiness which it withholds 
 from me! — Albert, T most cordially thank you for 
 your deception. I expected to have been informed 
 of the nuptial day, and intended on that day, (that 
 day of bliss for thee !) to have taken down Char- 
 lotte's profile from the wall, and to have buried it 
 with some other papers. You are now united, and 
 her picture remains untouched — be it so ! — Why 
 should it not ? — Has Charlotte no room left for me 
 in her heart ? — Yes ! with thy permission, Albert, I 
 may still hold a second place there. — I will — I must! 
 If I thought she could forget me, I should become 
 distracted! — Albert, — envied husband! — Oh, mad- 
 dening sound ! — may you be happy ! — And you Char- 
 lotte, angelic creature, be the most blessed among 
 women . 
 
 LETTER XLVII. 
 
 March 15. 
 
 A SINGULAR occurrence has just happened, the 
 onsequence of which must be my removal ; I have 
 exhausted all my patience and forbearance ; it is 
 irremediable, and I am indebted to you, my friend, 
 as the cause of all this : — for it was you who urged 
 and teazed me to accept a situation for which I am 
 by no means qualified. You have now great reason 
 to be satisfied as well as I ; but, lest you may attri- 
 bute this failure to the impetuosity of my disposition, 
 I will enclose a plain and simple statement of the 
 whole business 
 
76 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 LETTER XLVIII. 
 
 March. 
 
 I HAVE before repeatedly informed you, that 
 
 Count is very partial to me. Yesterday I 
 
 dined with him ; it was a day on which none but 
 persons of rank were invited to meet at his house. 
 The assembly was altogether out of my mind, and 
 much less did I reflect, that we subalterns were to 
 be excluded. After dinner, the Count and I went 
 into the saloon, where we talked and paraded arm 
 and arm. Colonel 13. soon after came in, and join- 
 ing us, the time passed insensibly on till the nobility 
 came. Heaven can witness they were not in my 
 mind, when entered the Most JVoble and Right 
 Honourable Lady R. accompanied by her husband 
 and simple daughter, with her short waist and fid 
 bosom. They passed by me with a look of con- 
 tempt and hauteur that was evidently meant to let 
 me read my distance. Filled with disgust at this 
 empty class of beings, I was about to withdraw, 
 and only waited to make my bow to the Count, who 
 was detained with their unmeaning prattle, when 
 the agreeable Miss B. entered. The remembrance 
 of the pleasant conversation we had enjoyed to- 
 gether, induced me to alter my intention of going; 
 so placing myself at the back of her chair, I spoke 
 familiarly with her ; I was some time, however, be- 
 fore I discovered that her manner was embarrassed, 
 and that she did not reply with her usual affability : 
 the novelty of the change excited my astonishment. 
 "Heavens!" exclaimed I inwardly, "can she be 
 like the rest ! I should have quitted the room if my 
 anxiety to ascertain the motive had not detained me. 
 The remainder of the company were now arriving. 
 — I saw the Baron F — enter v\ ith the same coat that 
 he wore at the coronation of Francis I — , and the 
 Chancellor and his old deaf lady, the Count I — , 
 and others, decked out in their stiff' antiquated 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 77 
 
 habits, made a ludicrous contrast to the airy 
 fashions of (he present day. I paid my respects to 
 all those whom I recognized, and remarked that 
 there was a very laconic distance in their answers ; 
 but I was most chagrined at Miss B.'s behaviour, 
 which chiefly engaged my attention, so much so, 
 that I did not observe that the ladies were all clus- 
 tered together, whispering in a distant part of the 
 room, and that the buz was general among the gen- 
 tlemen, while Madam S. was warmly remonstrating 
 with the Count on the same topic (this I have since 
 been informed of by Miss 13.) At length the Count 
 drew me to the window, and very good humouredly 
 said, " Such is the folly of etiquette, that some here 
 are deeply hurt at your being in their dignified 
 company. It would give me great uneasiness if 
 
 " "I beg your Excellency's pardon," said I> 
 
 "the impropriety of being present did not occur to 
 me before; but I am sure your goodness will excuse 
 this inattention. I was about to depart some little 
 time back, but my evil genius chained me to the 
 spot." I then bowed, took my leave, and received 
 a friendly shake of his hand, which convinced me 
 that the step he had submitted to was foreign to his 
 heart. Having saluted these honourable^, I threw 
 myself into my chaise, and drove to an adjacent vil- 
 lage, where, from the summit, of a hill, I contem- 
 plated the setting sun, and read that beautiful 
 passage in my Homer, which describes the hospitable 
 reception of the King of Ithaca by the honest 
 herdsmen. Well pleased with myself I returned, 
 and, on entering the supper-room at night, founr 1 
 only a few persons there, who had turned up one 
 corner of the table-cloth, and were playing with 
 dice. The good-natured Adelheim immediately ad- 
 dressed me in a Whisper, and eaid, " Your's was a 
 very awkward predicament to be placed in. The 
 Count, it is said, compelled you to withdraw from 
 the assembly." " I value not the assembly," said 
 
73 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 I, " I was happy to be away from them — " I am 
 pleased to hear," said he, " that you view the affair 
 with so much indifference ; as for me, I am only con- 
 cerned that it should so soon become the town- 
 talk !" This made me think more seriously of it ; 
 and I directly conceived, that every one who looked 
 at me as we sat at table, was inwardly ridiculing 
 me in his heart, on account of what had passed. 
 Hence my feelings were wounded deeply, for I can 
 go no where without hearing myself pitied, while 
 my triumphant enemies exclaim, " this is the proper 
 treatment of those vain plebeian mortals, who affect 
 to despise rank, and yet would elevate themselves 
 to the most conspicuous stations !" — Oh ! I could 
 tear out my heart ! Fortitude is certainly one of the 
 most material parts of philosophy — for, though trifles 
 may be jested with, when unproductive of any bad 
 consequence, yet if they be seriously misrepresented, 
 how is it possible to endure the sarcasms and mor 
 tifications these paltry slanderers may convey ' 
 
 LETTER XLIX. 
 
 March 15. 
 
 NOT a thing but conspires to vex me. — In walk- 
 ing out to-day I met Miss B. whom I joined, that I 
 might explore the cause of her late coolness. 
 " How could you, Werter," said she earnestly, 
 "you who know my sentiments, so misinterpret my 
 distress ? as soon as I saw you in the room, I was 
 unhappy on your account, and wished for an op- 
 portunity to reveal my fears, for I was well assured 
 
 that the R 's and some others would not endure 
 
 your presence in the assembly. The Count was very 
 much chagrined, but he dared not to disoblige them. 
 
 Besides this, it is every where reported " 
 
 " How reported !" exclaimed I, at the same time 
 endeavouring to stifle my deep vexation. " Ah !" 
 said the amiable girl, and the tears stood in her eyes, 
 " it has already made me very uncomfortable." 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 79 
 
 This involuntary tribute of affection and sympathy 
 not only soothed my indignation, but revived my 
 sinking spirits; so pleased was I, that I could 
 scarcely refrain from prostrating myself at my fair 
 defender's feet. — " Pray explain yourself," I re- 
 joined ; and her tears flowed more abundantly. At 
 length she became more calm, and having wiped 
 them away, proceeded ; " My aunt, Sir, whose 
 frame of mind you well know, was present — Sacred 
 powers ! she looks upon the affair in a most heinous 
 light ; and yet is it not insufferable to hear her boast 
 of her knowledge of life, of her equity, sense, and 
 politeness ! What lectures, Werter, did I endure last 
 night and this morning, upon my acquaintance with 
 you! I was compelled to hear you calumniated and 
 undervalued, while I dared not utter a syllable in 
 reply." 
 
 Her words and manner were daggers to my heart. 
 Amiable creature — she was unconscious that pity 
 would have concealed what respect made her reveal. 
 She also detailed all the misrepresentations which 
 had been circulated on the occasion, and swollen by 
 the whispers of malice. The pleasure that was felt 
 in my pride being humbled, and the retribution I had 
 received for that contempt of others with which I had 
 been so frequently reproached. She spoke this with 
 a feeling that did honour to her compassion, and 
 stung me to the soul. Since this, I have been so 
 enraged and desperate, that, could I have met vi ith 
 any one who dared to have made this event the 
 subject of his ridicule, I should have sacrificed him 
 to my honourable resentment. It would be a relief 
 to devote such an object to my fury, and more than 
 once have I seized my sword to give my full heart 
 a vent for its sorrows ! — It is said somewhere that 
 there exists a spirited breed of horses, who will 
 instinctively open a vein with their teeth, when they 
 are so overheated on the course that thev cannot 
 
80 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 respire freely. Often am I tempted to do the saniv 
 thing, and thus at once procure for myself an eternal 
 remedy. 
 
 LETTER L. 
 
 March 24. 
 
 I HAVE at length remitted a letter to court, re- 
 questing leave to resign, and I hope it will be ac- 
 cepted. I entreat your pardon for omitting to consult 
 you on this event, but my continuance in this place 
 is impossible. You I know would argue strongly 
 against the measure : but were I to listen to your 
 remonstrances, they would be all in vain. Pray 
 break this news to my mother with the utmost ten- 
 derness and precaution. I, who am incapable of 
 acting for myself, cannot be expected to render any 
 service to others. Doubtlessly she will be deeply 
 afflicted when she hears that I have stopped short 
 in that career which might gradually have raised 
 me from post to post till I became a privy counsel- 
 lor or prime minister, instead of sinking into my 
 original nothingness. Were you to argue unceas- 
 ingly, and combine the most irrcfragible reasons for 
 my stay, they would be unavailing. I am deter- 
 mined — and that is my ultimatum. However, as I 
 have no wish to keep you unacquainted with the 
 place of my destination, I must tell you that the 
 Prince of is here : he has heard of my inten- 
 tion to resign, and being much pleased with my 
 company, has kindly invited me to reside with him 
 during the spring months at his country-seat. lie 
 has promised to leave my inclinations perfectly 
 unbiassed, and as we agree on every subject but 
 one,* I shall venture to accompany him. Should I 
 change my mind, you shall receive a letter to that 
 effect. 
 
 * Probably suicide. 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 81 
 
 LETTER LI. 
 
 April 19. 
 
 THANKS, my friend, for your two consolatory 
 ■«*tcrs. I did not mean to write to you till I had 
 ireceived my answer from court. I was extremely 
 uneasy lest my mother should have interf* ed wkh 
 the minister 10 prevent my dismission ; but it is all 
 settled, for I have just now receive;! it. To enume- 
 rate the reluctance with which it was obtained, or 
 what the minister said in his letter to me on ihe sub- 
 ject, would at this juncture only renew your cha- 
 grin at the step that Is past. The hereditary prince 
 has presented me with a purse of twenty-five ducats, 
 and enriched it with such friendly expressions, that 
 I was almost affected to tears — of course his bounty 
 will render unnecessary the loan which I requested 
 my mother to send. 
 
 LETTER LIT. 
 
 May 5. 
 
 I SHALL be on my journey to-morrow ; and as 
 the spot of my nativity lies but six miles out of the 
 high road, I intend to pay it a visit, in order to re- 
 cal to memory the happy days of childhood. I 
 shall proceed through the same gate under which I 
 passed with my mother, when, after my father's 
 death, she abandoned her enchanting retreat to be- 
 come the inhabitant of your dreary town. Adieu, 
 my dear friend, and expect in my next an account of 
 my excursion. 
 
 LETTER Llil. 
 
 May 9. 
 
 I HAVE performed the journey to my native soil 
 with all the sanctity of a true pilgrim : — the retro 
 spect of many an innocent scene of former years 
 fdled my heart with sensations stronger than I can 
 express. As soon as I drew near the great elm 
 
 H 
 
C2 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 which lies a quarter of a league from the village on 
 
 the side of S , I alighted from the carriage, and 
 
 directed the postillion to proceed gently on, that 1 
 might, like a contemplative pedestrian, enjoy more 
 unrestrainedly all the pleasures of former occur- 
 rences. 1 halted under that same spacious elm 
 which in childhood's day had been the limit and 
 object of my walks. Ah ! what vicissitudes have 
 taken place since that period. — Then, happy in ig- 
 norance, I sighed for a world I knew nothing of, 
 but which I depicted to myself as strewed with the 
 most odoriferous flowers, and abounding in every 
 enjoyment the heart of youth can desire. I have 
 been ushered into that world, and have returned 
 from it ; — but what, my dear friend, have I brought 
 back? — Nothing but the converse of those delight- 
 ful scenes my fancy suggested — blighted hopes and 
 ruined peace ! — I have beheld those distant moun 
 tains, which have often excited in me the wish to 
 travel. For hours together would I sit gazing on 
 them, ardently longing to wander among the deep 
 woods and valleys which present so variegated a 
 picture in the back-ground ; and when the play 
 hour was over, and we were summoned to school 
 or home, ah, how fondly did T linger on the fa- 
 vourite spot ! 
 
 As I drew near the village, all the little gardens 
 and summer-houses successively appeared to mo 
 like old acquaintances, whom I had not seen for 
 many a day. I did not fancy the new ones, nor the 
 alterations made since I went awaj ; I entered the 
 village through the gate, and once more felt myself, 
 as it were, at home I It is too much, my dear friend, 
 to relate minutely all the circumstances which ex- 
 cited my interest: nor indeed would they l eget in 
 your bosom those delightful remembrances of hal- 
 cyon frolic which they did in mine. I meant to have 
 taken a lodging in the market-place, close to our 
 old tenement ; but my intention was frustrated, for 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 83 
 
 I found that the school-room, where our good old 
 governess h' d first planted in us the rudiments of 
 learning, was converted into a chandlery shop. I 
 could not forget the sorrows I had felt, and the tears 
 I had shed, in that confinement. At every step some 
 impressive object attracted my notice, nor was ever 
 pilgrim in the holy. land more fond of the sacred 
 relics, or more sincerely devoted to them. — Among 
 the innumerable sensations I felt, I must select the 
 following one : — One day, having followed the wind- 
 ings of a rivulet, which conducted to a farm that was 
 once my favourite ramble, and where I and my 
 schoolfellows had often diverted ourselves in mak- 
 ing ducks and drakes on the water, or bathing, I was 
 suddenly rendered uneasy by the recollection of the 
 state I was in. I looked at the current as it ap- 
 proached and passed continually on ; and hence I 
 formed romantic ideas of the unknown countries it 
 was going to visit, till my imagination was exhausted, 
 and I was bewildered in the ma^e of immeasurable 
 distance. 
 
 Similar to mine, my dear friend, were the notions 
 of ou* good ancestors. So when Ulysses speaks of 
 the boundless ocean and the unlimited earth, how 
 much better adapted is his phrase to the common 
 capacity of man than the pedantry of our academic 
 youth of this age, who, with all the gravity of a phi- 
 losopher, accounts himself a prodigy, because he ha3 
 learned from his tutor that the universe is a round 
 body. 
 
 Perceiving that the objects before me had engaged 
 my attention, and that I was in a train to recollect 
 past occurrences, which was not likely soon to ter- 
 minate, I hastily resolved to return ; and re-entered 
 my carriage under a strong impression of pr.st joys 
 and boding sorrows. 
 
 For the present I remain with the prince at one 
 of his hunting seats. His frankness and liberality 
 are extreme, and with such a disposition I cannot 
 
84 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER 
 
 be otherwise than pleasantly circumstanced. Therr 
 is, however, one foil in his character, his credulity 
 He always speaks of that which has only a book 01 
 mere report for its foundation, and öfters his de- 
 cisions, without investigation or experience ; hence 
 he views things in that same light in which they 
 have been represented to him. I am not pleased 
 with the motive which seems chiefly to attach him 
 to me — he regards only my talents and external ac- 
 complishments ; but my mind, my mental system, 
 which is the spring of all that is excellent, of my 
 happiness, my sensibility, of every thing which con- 
 stitutes whatever I boast that is amiable, and which 
 is solely mine — this is with him but a secondary ob- 
 ject. — I, however, make no pretensions to superioi 
 knowledge. 
 
 LETTER LIV. 
 
 May 25. 
 
 IT was my intention to have concealed from you 
 a scheme which I had projected, till it was exe- 
 cuted ; but the design having failed, the reason for 
 withholding it any longer i3 done away. This waa 
 to offer my service in the army ; and which was my 
 chief inducement for accepting the prince's invita- 
 tion. He is a General in the service of the Electoi 
 
 of . I took an opportunity, in one of our 
 
 friendly walks, to communicate my design to him ; 
 he disapproved of my plan, and hence, as my pro- 
 motion must have depended upon his patronage, I 
 have quietly acquiesced in the reasons he urged 
 against it. 
 
 LETTER LV. 
 
 June 11. 
 
 MISER ABLE and weary, I can no longer remain 
 at this place ! — What can I do here ? — I call mysell 
 unhappy, and indeed, my friend, I mean so. The 
 prince certainly treats me in all respect^ as his equal, 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER."* 
 
 85 
 
 but our minds are dissimilar ; — T cannot make him 
 my bosom friend! — Though his understanding be 
 good, it is made of common materials, and affords 
 me that kind of pleasure only which 1 receive from 
 a well-written volume. After a week more has elapsed, 
 I shall quit this place, and commence a wandering 
 life, as before. The best performances I have exe- 
 cuted here are a few drawings. The prince pos- 
 sesses some taste for the fine arts, which would be 
 more improved, were it not cramped by a fondness 
 for technical jargon and narrow rules. Sometimes 
 in the warmest glow of my fancy, when I am be- 
 stowing the most finished touches upon the works 
 of art and nature, he will damp me Avith his unim- 
 portant pedantic criticisms, (upon which he highly 
 esteems himself,) and then all my patience is quite 
 exhausted ! 
 
 LETTER LVI. 
 
 July 16. 
 
 I CONSIDER myself, my friend, exactly in the 
 situation of a traveller — a humble pilgrim — on his 
 road through life ; — and is not this the journey which 
 the whole world are engaged in ? 
 
 LETTER LVII. 
 
 WHITHER am I going ?— I will intrust you witii 
 it. Being compelled to abide here a fortnight longer, 
 
 I intend after that to pay a visit to the mines of . 
 
 But this will never take place — I only deceive my- 
 self; — the real fact is, that Charlotte only attracts 
 me. Ah ! how unsteady are all my resolutions ; 
 yet I am not the dupe of juy heart ; — I only listen to 
 its dictates, and obey them. 
 
 Hh 
 
86 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 LETTER LVTII. 
 
 July 29. 
 
 No. no! — it is all ordered for the best! — What! — 
 I be her husband ? — Thou Omnipotent power, the 
 source of my being, if thou hadst destined me to 
 the enjoyment of such a blessing, the successive 
 days of my life should have been one ceaseless hymn 
 of thanksgiving ! — But, lie still my heart! — rise not 
 against the government of Providence ! — O may these 
 tears, those unavailing sighs, be forgiven ! — Ah! had 
 she been mine ! — then would my happiness have been 
 too great — to enfold in those arms the most perfect 
 of her sex ! — Albert ! — how I shudder and feel con- 
 vulsed, when I see her celestial form pressed to his 
 bosom ! 
 
 Shall I withhold the remark I was going to make? 
 — Why should I? — I was about to observe, that she 
 would have been more happy with me than Albert : 
 — they were not formed for each other ; they are 
 paired, not matched. He is deficient in that soft 
 sensibility which pervades her whole form and 
 mind ; he wants — in short, their hearts do not har- 
 monize ! — Believe me, my dear friend, how often 
 have the feelings of Charlotte and myself risen as it 
 were at the same mutual impulse, when I have been 
 reading an interesting passage in some author ! — 
 How have we by looks, far more expressive than 
 words, told each other all we thought and under- 
 stood when the fictitious situation of a character lias 
 called forth our admiration! — Yet she is beloved by 
 Albert! — he endeavours to make her happiness his 
 chief study, and does not such afFection deserve its 
 reward ? 
 
 An unseasonable visitor compels me to interrupt 
 this letter ; — J have therefore endeavoured to sup- 
 press all signs of agitation, and my mind is now a 
 little more collected. My dearest friend, adieu! 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 87 
 
 LETTER LIX. 
 
 •August 4. 
 
 . AM not the only miserable who endures disap- 
 pointment, whose prospects of happiness have vanish- 
 ed away. I have paid a visit to the worthy woman 
 whose hut is under the shade of the lime trees. The 
 eldest boy no sooner saw than he flew to meet me, 
 and his extravagant joy brought out his mother. I 
 was sorry to see her look so dejected, and asked her 
 the reason. — "Alack ! my good sir," (said she,) as the 
 tears chased each other down her pale cheeks, and 
 interrupted her speaking, " our poor little Jackey is 
 dead! Ah ! he was the joy and delight of my heart 
 — but he is gone !" This was her youngest child : — 
 after a pause she again proceeded : " My husband, 
 too, he has come back from* Holland without any 
 money. There he was seized with an ague and fe- 
 ver, and if it had not been for some kind and good- 
 hearted persons who relieved him on the way, he 
 must have begged his bread." I was grieved at her 
 hard situation, and gave some money to the little 
 boy. She gratefully offered me a few apples, which 
 I accepted, and with a heavy heart went away. 
 
 LETTER LX. 
 
 August 21. 
 
 My ideas change with the velocity of lightning ; 
 at one moment a gleam of hope irradiates my gloomy 
 spirits, a transient ray of comfort dawns upon me — 
 in the next it is no more ! — When thus deeply buried 
 in reveries, I sometimes say to myself — "If Albert 
 
 were to die, then — yes, Charlotte would be " and, 
 
 in this manner, I pursue the illusion till it conducts 
 me to the brink of an abyss, when I recoil with such 
 sudden terror, that, were I really in that dreadful 
 situation, I should certainly perish. If I pass through 
 the same gate, or walk on the same road, which first 
 led me to Charlotte's residence, my heart flutters 
 
88 SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 and beats, and I feel with bitter anguish the differ- 
 ence between what I once was and what I now am. 
 Yes, all that I was formerly is vanished ; — neither 
 my feelings nor the pulsations of my heart are the 
 same — the world to me appears with another aspect, 
 and my delights have altered with it. Could the 
 spirit of a departed prince return 10 visit the superb 
 edifices which he had erected in his prosperous day, 
 and bequeathed to his beloved son, and find them 
 overthrown and demolished by his more powerful 
 foe, would not his sensations be severe ? — Similar to 
 his are mine ! 
 
 LETTER LXI. 
 
 Sept 3. 
 
 IT sometimes appears very inexplicable to me, 
 that she can really love another ! how she can pre- 
 sume to love another, while she holds an undivided 
 dominion in this breast ! — while she occupies and en- 
 grosses every avenue to it — while this mind thinks 
 only of her, knows her alone, and excludes every 
 other object in the universe. 
 
 LETTER LXII. 
 
 Sept. 4. 
 
 IT is the time of harvest, and nature is dressed 
 in gayety, while all within me is dark and gloomy 
 as winter. When the yellow lcaves.of autumn fall 
 as the tree shakes, then shall I be white-headed, and 
 my hair will come off by handfuls. I no longer 
 see with my wonted clearness ; my hearing is indis- 
 tinct, and all my senses are injured, feeling ex- 
 cepted, which remains more poignant than ever!— 
 I wrote you in a recent letter* an account of a 
 rustic swain whom I met by accident when I first 
 came to this place. I have been informed, that he 
 has been discharged from his service ; but what has 
 
 * Letter X. 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 31) 
 
 befallen him since I could not learn till yesterday, 
 when, happening to meet him in the path which 
 conducts to the next village, I addressed him with 
 that frankness and earnestness which induced him 
 to unbosom to me his sad story — I call it sad, and 
 such, will my friend deem it, I am sure, when he 
 has perused it. Am I not to blame in making my 
 friend a partner in whatever distresses me ? — Why 
 render him miserable, and thus subject myself to his 
 commiseration or disapprobation ? — I should not act 
 thus, if it were not my destiny to render all who 
 know me unhappy ! 
 
 He did not seem inclined at first to speak, but, as 
 if he had suddenly thrown aside his hesitation and 
 doubt, he entered at large into his errors and mis- 
 fortunes. My powers of imitation are inadequate 
 to display the manner and accent which accom- 
 panied his words — uttered with that wild emotion 
 and ardent disorder of the tender passion, by which 
 he had lost his appetite and his rest, and had been 
 rendered incapable of the transaction of business ; 
 at least such was the state of his mind, that he 
 either forgot the thing he was desired to do, or did 
 the contrary. His mistress loaded him with her 
 censures and reproaches; but it was her melodious 
 voice that he heard, and he was happy. He excused 
 himself to rne by saying, that his evil genius had 
 haunted him till he committed the act for which ho 
 had justly been dismissed. One day he followed 
 his mistress into her chamber, or, more correctly, he 
 was induced to enter, and, as she had hitherto al- 
 ways negatived his amorous suit, he was impelled 
 imperceptibly to gain her consent by a more ener- 
 getic method ! — He declared that his designs had 
 always been founded on honour, that marriage was 
 his aim and end, and in the accomplishment of that 
 object were united all his hopes of happiness. After 
 I had pressed him more closely, he ceased to hesi- 
 tate, and confessed that she had granted him some 
 
90 
 
 SOR.HO WS OF WERTER. 
 
 liberties: — and then, fearful that he had said too 
 much, justified all that she had done, and vowed 
 that he still hr/ed her with the same unabated af- 
 fection. Such was the simple pathos he intermingled 
 with his words, that no language can portray it; 
 yet his image is still present with me. Could you 
 behold him, your pity and pardon would follow ; — 
 I feel warmly interested in his fate — and am anxious 
 to excite your commiseration for a stranger, while 
 you are the dear friend of one whose similar. lot no 
 less demands your pity ! 
 
 In re-perusing this letter. I perceive that I have 
 commenced the youth's story, and have omitted to 
 give \ou the sequel. 
 
 In the midst of the struggle between the young 
 lover and the lady, her brother entered; such was 
 the antipathy of the latter, that he was desirous of 
 seeing him discharged from the employ of his sister, 
 fearful that if she married .again, and had children, 
 his own would be superseded in the expected in- 
 heritance of her property. The misconduct he had 
 witnessed, furnished him with a plausible pretext to 
 turn the youth away; and the lady, influenced by 
 the report which was in general circulation, could 
 not consistently re-engage him in her sen ice with- 
 out staining her character, or suffering him to lead 
 her to the altar. Since this I have been informed 
 by the poor unfortunate, that she has taken another 
 lad in his place, and that her brother's fears are as 
 considerable as before, as it is currently rumoured 
 that they are to be married. In such a case, the 
 young man says the burthen of his life would be in- 
 supportable. 
 
 This love — this invincible passion, is no fiction of 
 poetical fancy ; — but is to be found with the poor 
 and the ignorant in all its simple garb. Consider 
 this story with an earliest attention to whom it re- 
 lates. Since I began to write to you, I have felt 
 more calm and collected: this may be perceived by 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 91 
 
 the increased length of my letter, which evidently 
 shows that I am not so brief as 1 was. Again I re- 
 quest you to consider it with diligence, and trace 
 in those lines the story of your unhappy Werter. 
 Yes — I am — and shall ever be the same ; but, when 
 I compare the fortitude of this young lover with my 
 own, I am compelled to acknowledge with grief that 
 ho is much my superior. 
 
 LETTER LXIIT. 
 
 Sept 5. 
 
 CHARLOTTE wrote to her husband, after he had 
 been absent a few days in the country, and com- 
 menced her epistle in this manner: — " My ever- 
 dear love, return the earliest possible — a thousand 
 good wishes await you !" Scarcely had she finished, 
 when a friend arrived from Albert, and informed 
 her that unavoidable business would delay Albert 
 longer than he intended. This prevented the des- 
 patch of the letter, and thus in the evening it 
 chanced to come into my hand, as it lay open. I 
 read it with a smile of delight, and so fervent was 
 the kiss of transport I bestowed on it, that Charlotte 
 enquired the cause. " Ah !" I exclaimed, " how 
 excellent is imaginary hlisa 1" — She read in my 
 countenance the construction I had put upon her 
 words, which had induced me to imagine they were 
 addressed to myself! — She made no reply and looked 
 frowningly — that look of displeasure locked up my 
 tongue. 
 
 LETTER LXIV. 
 
 Sept. 6. 
 
 I REGRET very much that I am compelled to cast 
 off the blue coat which I wore the first time I danced 
 with Charlotte : it was so threadbare, it was im- 
 possible to appear in it any longer ;"hut, I have sub- 
 stituted another of the same colour and fashion in 
 its place, with a waistcoat and breeches of buff 
 
92 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 The new coat, however, with me, has none of the 
 merit of the original ; in short, it is not the same ; 
 but in time it may be as much esteemed. 
 
 LETTER LXV. 
 
 Sept. 12. 
 
 CHARLOTTE went to her husband, and was 
 some time gone. To-day I paid her a visit, and had 
 the inexpressible delight of pressing her hand to my 
 lips. As she stood conversing with me, a canary 
 bird, perched on the frame of the looking glass, flew 
 upon her shoulder. " Ah ! (said she) this is a new 
 friend." She tenderly enticed it to come upon her 
 finger, and then continued; "Do observe how fond 
 it is of me — how its little wings flutter, and it 
 pecks with its fine bill, directly give it victuals — 
 Look Werter! — absolutely the fond thing is saluting 
 me!" 
 
 The canary, on seeing the lips of Charlotte pro- 
 jected towards it, inserted his bill between them, 
 and appeared to enjoy the sweetness of her fragrant 
 breath ! — She then held the bird to my face, and 
 said, " Werter, it shall kiss you too ?" and tha 
 little songster did as she desired. How delighffu. 
 were the ideas which rushed through my bosom ! — 
 " Ah ! Charlotte," said I, " our kisses can only yield 
 the little thing an imperfect pleasure — it asks for a 
 more solid gratification — it wants food." — She then 
 took a morsel of bread, and the bird ate from her 
 lips. I turned aside, unable to survey with calmness 
 the canary and its mistress! — Ah, why does she so 
 inconsiderately untranquillize my heart with such 
 scenes? — She should not thus awaken its feelings 
 when soothed to rest, nor excite the recollection of 
 what is endeavoured to be forgotten ! — But, has she 
 not a right to act thus ? — It is the result of that con- 
 fidence she places in me — My looks show that I 
 adore her, and she is conscious of all they speak ! 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 93 
 
 LETTER LXVI. 
 
 Sept. 15. 
 
 WHAT a severe mortification must the man of 
 discernment endure, when he surveys the crowd of 
 abject beings whom heaven permits to crawl upon 
 the earth, regardless of whatever is interesting, or 
 admirable! — You will recollect that I wrote to voj 
 
 respecting the walnut-trees at S , beneath the 
 
 shade of which I sat with Charlotte at the worthy 
 old Vicar's. They were the pride, the beloved orna- 
 ments of the parsonage yard ! — It was impossible 
 to sit under their venerable broad shelter, without 
 reverting to the good pastors who planted them! 
 The schoolmaster has frequently, in the words of his 
 grandfather, mentioned the name of the person who 
 planted the most ancient of liiem. He would say, 
 " This vicar bore a most amiable character, and 
 under these trees his name must for ever have been 
 spoken of with respect." The same schoolmaster 
 came yesterday, with the tears standing in his eyes, 
 and informed me, that they were cut down ! 
 " What!" I exclaimed, "cut down! — Would that I 
 had been there, that 1 might in my fury have rooted 
 out the ruffian murderer who dared to level the first 
 stroke! — Such indifference is insufferable! — Had I 
 possessed two such trees, and one of them had de- 
 cayed only from mere old age, I should have worn 
 mourning, in respect to its memory." It is, however, 
 some consolation to me, that the whole village 
 considers this levelling in a heinous light ; and henco 
 I hope the good peasants will withhold their pre 
 sents from the Vicar's wife, and balance the ac- 
 count to her disadvantage — for it seems that the 
 order came from her — the wife of the present in- 
 cumbent. The worthy old man fortunately was 
 levelled before his trees, and certain I am that only 
 euch a tall, ghastly, wrinkled, worn, hag as she is — 
 1 
 
94 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER» 
 
 one, who being always indisposed, is never disposed 
 to do well, who looks contemptuously on the world, 
 because it returns her the same favour, an anti- 
 quated idiot, who pretends to be learned, is ac- 
 quainted with all the canonical books, and gives her 
 assistance in writing ANeiv Moral and Critical Re- 
 formation of the Christian Religion, and treats La- 
 vater's enthusiasm with the greatest scorn ; — such 
 a creature only, I repeat it, could have cut down 
 these beautiful walnut-trees ! — Never, never, my 
 friend, shall I forget them, or forgive her! — And 
 how do you think this stupid woman justifies her 
 barbarous and wanton act ; the yard was continually 
 made damp and dirty by the fallen leaves, the thick 
 branches obstructed the fight, the children threw 
 stones at the walnuts, and the rustling of trees af- 
 fected her nerves, and deranged the profundity of 
 her meditations, while she was estimating the exact 
 scale of merit between Kennicott, Sender, and 
 Michaelis. When I understood that all the parish- 
 ioners were irritated at her egregious conduct, and 
 more particularly the old standards, I demanded the 
 reason of their tamely submitting to such a mark of 
 disrespect; but their answer only Went to say, 
 " That when the Steward delivers his order, the 
 poor peasant must obey." 
 
 I am, however, in some measure consoled for this 
 village loss by the following circumstance. — The 
 Steward and the Vicar, who intended to turn this 
 woman's folly to their mutual advantage, had pri- 
 vately agreed to divide the profit arising from the 
 sale of the timber; but the Revenue Officer has 
 frustrated all the scheme; for, having had private 
 information of the business, he has seized the trees, 
 and sold them to the highest bidder — Oh, that 1 
 were a powerful monarch, to punish the Vicar, the 
 Wife, the Steward, and the Revenue Officer! but, 
 had I been a prince, the felicity of Charlotte's com- 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 95 
 
 pany under the umbrageous shade of my much la- 
 mented walnut-trees would then have been unknown 
 to Werter ! 
 
 LETTER LXVII. 
 
 October 10. 
 
 THE vicwonly of her dark piercing eyes gives me 
 an inexpressible delight. I am extremely sorry that 
 Albert does not find that comfort in the wedded 
 state which he expected — which I should have en- 
 joyed, if — I break off the sentence, though I disap- 
 prove of the practice ; because I cannot express my- 
 self in any other manner. Heavens! is it not already 
 sufficiently explicit ! 
 
 LETTER LXVIII. 
 
 October 12. 
 
 HOMER has been superseded in my heart by the 
 divine Ossian — Through what a world does this 
 angelic bard carry me ! — With him I wander over 
 barren wastes and frightful wiles, surrounded by 
 whirlwinds and hurricanes — trace by the'feeble light 
 of the moon, the shades of our noble ancestors — 
 hear from the mountainous heights, intermingled 
 with the roaring of waves and cataracts, their plain- 
 tive tones stealing from the cavernous recesses, 
 while the pensive monody of some love-stricken 
 maiden, who heaves her departing sighs over the 
 moss-clothed grave of the warrior by whom she 
 was adored, makes up the inarticulate concert. I 
 trace this bard, with his silver locks, as he wanders 
 in the valley, and explores the footsteps of his fa- 
 thers ! — Alas ! no vestige remains but their tombs ! — 
 his thought then hangs on the silver moon, as her 
 sinking beams play upon the rippling main; and 
 the remembrance of deeds past and gone recur to 
 the hero's mind — deeds of time?, when he gloried 
 in the approach of danger, and emulation nerved his 
 whole frame, when the pale orb shone upon his 
 
SC SORROWS OF WERTER 
 
 bark, laden with the spoils of his enemy, and illu 
 minuted Iiis triumphant return. When I see de- 
 picted on his countenance a bosom full of wo — 
 when I behold his heroic greatness sinking into the 
 grave, and he exclaims, as he throws a glance at the 
 cold sod which is to lie upon him, "Hither will the 
 traveller, who is sensible of my worth, bend his 
 weary step, and seek the soul-enlivening bard, the 
 illustrious son of Fingal : his foot will tread upon 
 my tomb, but his eyes shall never behold me!" At 
 this time it is, my dear friend, that, like some re- 
 nowned and chivalrous knight, I could instantly 
 draw my sword, rescue my prince from a long irk- 
 some existence of languor and pain, and then finish 
 by plunging the weapon into my own breast, that I 
 might accompany the demi-god whom my hand had 
 emancipated. 
 
 LETTER LXIX. 
 
 October 19. 
 
 ALAS ! I feel in my bosom an indescribable fear- 
 ful vacuity ! — In the roving of amorous fancy, I 
 sometimes think if I could but once, once only, 
 clasp her to my breast, my every wish would be 
 gratified. 
 
 LETTER LXX. 
 
 October 26. 
 
 THE opinion which I had formed, that the exist- 
 ence of any one individual is of no consequence to 
 the world, I am now perfectly convinced is correct. 
 A friend of Charlotte's called just now to pay her a 
 visit ; of course, politeness induced me to retire to 
 an adjoining apartment, where by way of pastime 
 I took up a book: but not finding myself disposed 
 to read, 1 sat down to address a few lines to my 
 friend, by which he will appreciate the value of 
 this present favour. While I am thus engaged, I 
 can overhear their conversation ; — their topics are 
 the common wants of all places — one is about to be 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 97 
 
 married— a second is alarmingly ill -has a dreadful 
 cough and repeated fainting — no hopes of getting 
 
 better in this world. — "Mr. S lies dangerously 
 
 ill!" said Charlotte. " So I hear," replied her visi- 
 tor ; " ah ! I fancy now that I am standing by their 
 bedsides, and behold them struggling with the grim 
 tyrant death, while the love of life prevails in all 
 the agonies of pain and terror, and induces them to 
 wish for a longer respite." Thus these worthy 
 young ladies talk of their dying friends with as 
 much calmness and indifference, as if they were 
 wholly strangers ! — Ah me ! when I survey the apart- 
 ments I am now in, where Charlotte's apparei is in 
 one place — on this table are her trinkets — in another 
 part is Albert's papers, and all the articles so fami- 
 liar to my recollection — nay, the same ink-stand I 
 at present use — my mind reverts to the view in 
 which I am considered by this family. — With them 
 I am every thing — they esteem me, and court my 
 conversation; and T without them should be un- 
 happy ; — yet, certain it is, were I to withdraw from 
 their social circle, how long would they continue 
 to regret that void in their life which my absence 
 must occasion ? How long ! — Alas ! but a moment ! 
 for such is the frailty of human nature, that the 
 man, whose presence formed the highest enjoyment 
 of others, who was embosomed in the breast of his 
 dearest friend — even he must perish, and his me- 
 mory be cancelled. 
 
 L ITER LXXI. 
 
 October 27. 
 
 I COULD rend asunder this heart, I could dash 
 my head against tiie wall, when I am disappointed 
 in unbosoming myself to others ; when I communi- 
 cate my ideas and sensations to those who are in- 
 capable of a like sympathy. No one can transfuse 
 into my mind that love, delight, ardency, or plea- 
 sure, which it dees not naturally possess ; nor can 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 I, though I am alive to all that is affectionate and 
 impassioned, communicate to another that sensibility 
 which his organization is incapable of receiving. 
 
 LETTER LXXII. 
 
 Evening. 
 
 IN idea I am superabundantly supplied ! Char- 
 lotte's dear lovely self banishes every other thought, 
 and transforms all around me into a Paradise— 
 What to me would be the world without her? — A 
 chaotic nothing ! 
 
 LETTER LXXIII. 
 
 October 30. 
 
 A THOUSAND times have my arms been tempt- 
 ed to twine themselves round her celestial waist, and 
 clasp her to my throbbing bosom ! It is impossible 
 to be tortured with the continual view of such 
 charms, and be forbidden to touch them ! — Touching 
 is one of the earliest instincts of nature !— Hence 
 the bantling stretches out its hand to grasp at the 
 object Avhich pleases its fancy ; and, in this respect, 
 I resemble it— Indeed a very child ! 
 
 LETTER LXXIV. 
 
 JVov. ?. 
 
 REPEATEDLY have I laid my head on the pil- 
 low, and prayed, as my eyes were closing in sleep, 
 that they might never open again ! The morning 
 comes ; I open them ; again behold the dazzling 
 sun ; and return to my former wretchedness. Oh ! 
 that I were hypochondriac or filled with affecta- 
 tion !— Then might I ascribe my despond<ency to the 
 operation of intemperate seasons, to disappointed 
 pride, or the malice of a persecuting enemy ;— and 
 allege this insupportable weight of disquietude to 
 some other cause than myself— Alas ! I am too sen- 
 sibly convinced that in this bosom originates all the 
 unhappiness I feel ; this bosom, which was or.ee 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 99 
 
 the seat of peace and cheerfulness, but now the 
 spring whence all my countless sorrows flow, can I 
 be the same whose mind was formerly the nursery 
 of every sensation that was gay and exhilirating? — 
 Who at every turn he took into the country saw 
 Paradise in each prospect, and whose bosom ex- 
 panded with enthusiastic philanthropy? — But, ah, 
 how changed ! — This heart is callous to every softer 
 sensation, dead to the pleasures of enjoyment, — my 
 eyes can weep no more — the fountains of sensibility 
 are dried up ; my senses fail and decay, with the 
 powers of my brain ! — Afflicted beyond description, 
 the only charm of life — that boundless busy imagi- 
 nation which transported me to worlds of my own 
 creation, is lost — departed for ever ! Insensibly I 
 gaze upon the distant hills through my window — 
 the rising sun dispels the yielding vapours, and illu- 
 minates the extensive country with his gladdening 
 beams — the murmuring stream gently winds its way 
 through the leafless willows — the exhaustless beau- 
 tics of nature are on every side — she exhibits the most 
 inimitable subjects for the scenic pencil — but they 
 attract me not : — they leave me blind, insensate, in- 
 animate. On my knees have I often besought 
 heaven to melt my callosity of heart to tears, like 
 as the farmer prays for the rain to moisten his 
 thirsty fields. But I have learned that heaven does 
 not grant showers or sunshine to the importunate 
 intreater.— If these times, the loss of which I so 
 deeply deplore, were blessed, it was owing to a 
 temper that acquiesced in all the dispensations of 
 the Great Parent, and received all his mercies with 
 gratitude. 
 
 LETTER LXXV. 
 
 Nov. 8. 
 
 CHARLOTTE has tenderly reproved me for my 
 recent excesses ; indeed, my dear friend, in order to 
 drown care, I have for some time past made too free 
 
100 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 with the bottle. " Pray," said she, " be more pru 
 dent— think of Charlotte !"— " Think of Charlotte !" 
 exclaimed I, " how needless is this advice. — I am 
 ever thinking of you, nay more than thinking — I 
 see you incessantly before my eyes, you are always 
 in my heart ! — I was sitting this very morning on 
 the spot where you rested yesterday." — I was pro- 
 ceeding, when she abruptly introduced another sub- 
 ject ; — on which I conversed — playing like a pliant 
 puppet just that part and action which this dear 
 divine manager assigns me. 
 
 LETTER LXXVI. 
 
 Nov. 15. 
 
 MY thanks are due to you, most excellent friend, 
 for the interest you take in rendering my situation 
 more comfortable, as well as for your kind counsel : 
 — Let me intreat you to make yourself easy, and 
 not take so much unnecessary trouble on my ac- 
 count ! — Leave me to my miseries ! — I am not yet 
 so surrounded or so desponding, that I cannot en- 
 dure them to the end. — You are sensible that I 
 have the most awful reverence for your religion, 
 which is particularly adapted to strengthen the 
 weak and console the afflicted. But it is not to be 
 expected that it will produce this effect equally on 
 all. — Survey this vast Universe, and you will con- 
 fess there are millions who never were acquainted 
 with it, and that to as many, whether it be preached 
 to them or not, it will be of no advantage. — Pray 
 do not place a wrong construction on what I 
 have written. — To me nothing is more displeasing 
 than the idle discussions of subjects where our 
 greatest knowledge is but blindness. What is the 
 destiny assigned to man? — what more than to fill 
 up the measure of his miseries, and drain the bitter 
 cup of wo : and if the inevitable draft was nauseous 
 to the Son of the Omnipotent, for what reason 
 should I affect a sentiment I do not feel, and say 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 101 
 
 my cup is sweet ? why start appalled at the dread- 
 ful crisis when the soul hovers between existence 
 and annihilation ; when dissolution similar to the 
 glaring flash of lightning, shall illuminate the dark 
 abyss of futurity ; when all nature totters, and the 
 universe vanishes away ! — Behold the exclamation 
 of a desponding being, who is persecuted hope- 
 lessly, and who sees no avenue to escape destruc- 
 tion — Shall I blush to use this expression, " My 
 God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me !" when 
 he, who spreads out the heavens as it were a garment, 
 uttered it in all the terrors of despair? 
 
 LETTER LXXVI1. 
 
 Nov. 21. 
 
 CHARLOTTE is not aware that she is preparing 
 a poison which may eventually destroy us both. 
 The fatal potion is presented by her own hand, and 
 I swallow it in large quantities. Have those en- 
 dearing looks she occasionally vouchsafes me — has 
 that attention which listens to all the effusions I 
 utter — that sympathy which beams in her expressive 
 countenance — are these devoid of motive and mean- 
 ing ? Yesterday, as I bid her adieu, she held out 
 her hand, and emphatically said, " Farewell, dear 
 Werter!" — Dear Werter! — The sound reverberated 
 through my whole frame! Dear! it was the first 
 time I ever heard her apply the epithet to me. — 
 The tender word will never, never be forgotten, a 
 thousand times have I repeated it since, and last 
 night, when I went to rest, I unconsciously ex- 
 claimed, " Good night, dear Werter !" — In a mo- 
 ment after I recollected myself, and smiled at my 
 own absurdity I 
 
 LETTER LXXVI1I. 
 
 Nov. 22. 
 
 I FIND it impossible to pray that heaven would 
 make her mine soon, though in fancy I think she ia 
 
102 
 
 SClHiOWS OF WtRlKt 
 
 mine already. Nor can I entreat that she may lie 
 mine now, at a time when she is in the possession of 
 another! — My sorrow and moans are equally in- 
 effectual and unanswered.— Would that T could di- 
 vide myself from this weak heart t 
 
 LETTER LXXIX. 
 
 Mv. 24. 
 
 MY sufferings have found their way to the bosom 
 of Charlotte. This day I found her alone : — her 
 looks gave me uneasiness, und I gazed upon her in 
 silence; she fixed her eyes steadfastly on mine, yet 
 though they were divested of that fire of genius, 
 which had hitherto beamed in them, and the bolder 
 traits of beauty had withdrawn from her face, there 
 was an interesting nameless something left which 
 spoke more fascinatingly; — which depicted the ex- 
 pression of compassion and soft concern. Why did 
 seme invisible power withhold me from kneeling at 
 her feet; from pressing her to my heart, and re- 
 paying her tenderness with a thousand kisses? — 
 While thus embarrassed and irresolute, she turned 
 to her instrument, and in the sweetest accents of me- 
 lody accompanied the soothing tones. Her lips 
 never looked so enchantingly — they seemed to se- 
 parate but to imbibe the mellifluous sounds, and 
 return them with a double sweetness of vibration. 
 My sensations were inexpressible! — rny feelings 
 were overpowered, and in a bending attitude, I just 
 articulated the following solemn vow J — " Lips of 
 ineffable delight, round which celestial beings hover, 
 never will I dare to profane you!" The felicity I 
 deny myself, I sigh to taste, — but, never! — an etm- 
 nal partition divides us ! — yet, my friend, were I 
 suffered to dwell on those lips but for one transient 
 moment, I would contentedly die and expiate my 
 crime in the next ! 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 103 
 
 LETTER LXXX. 
 
 Äov. 26. 
 
 IT seems to me that mine is a peculiar destiny. — 
 The rest of the world are happy, and I am the only 
 one who is cursed. — Then in perusing the work of 
 some ancient author, I find a passage that appears 
 to allude to my own situation — " When will there be 
 a cessation of these sorrows ? — Where does there ex- 
 ist such another unfortunate?" 
 
 LETTER LXXXI. 
 
 m>v. no. 
 
 THE decree is past ; my fate is resolved upon ! — 
 Every thing tends to augment my pangs, and point 
 to my future destiny ! 
 
 Not being able to relish my dinner to-day, I arose 
 from table, and took a solitary walk by the river 
 side. The country wore a gloomy and deserted ap- 
 pearance ; a cold easterly wind blew from the 
 mountains, and heavy thick clouds darkened the 
 plain. As I walked on, I perceived a man at some 
 distance clad in an old loose garment, apparently 
 straying among the rocks in search of plants. — He 
 turned round on hearing my footsteps, and displayed 
 a most expressive countenance, in which was de- 
 picted the traits of a settled melancholy. His fine 
 black hair hung in disorder over his shoulders. 
 " What are you seeking for, friend ?" said I ; — he 
 replied, with a deep sigh, " I am looking for flowers, 
 but I cannot find even one." " This is not the sea- 
 son for flowers," I rejoined. "True," said he, 
 " but yet many flowers grow notwithstanding. — In 
 my own garden there are roses and lilies — one sort 
 was given me by my father, — they are to be found 
 every where — yet, for a 1 ! I have been two whole 
 days looking for some, T cannot find any. — In the 
 fields there are a great many flowers, yellow, blue, 
 and red \ and the centaury too, which grows in such 
 
104 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 thick pretty clusters, but I cannot find any."— 
 "Suppose," said T, "you had these flowers, what 
 do you intend to do with them ?" He smiled, and 
 holding up hi3 finger, with an air of suspicion, 
 whispered, — "I will tell you, but let no one else 
 know ; T have promised to give my sweetheart a 
 nosegay!"' "That was right," I replied. "Oh! 
 she wants for nothing '." he answered — " for she is 
 rich, very rich." — "And yet (interrupted 1) she is 
 fond of your nosegays !" " Oh ! (proceeded he) she 
 has diamonds and a crown !" — 1 enquired her name, 
 but he continued his story ; "If the States General 
 would but pay me my own, I should become quite 
 a different man. Alas! there was a time when I 
 was happy — happy as the day was long ; but that 
 time is past — gone — Mown away !" Ashe said this, 
 he raised his tearful eyes to heaven. "Then (said 
 J) you own there ivas a time when you wert 
 happy !" " Oli ! would that I had continued the 
 same ! (he exclaimed,) I was then happy — and so 
 cheerful, and contented, — just like a fish in water!" 
 An old woman came towards us, exclaiming, 
 "Henry, Henry, what are you doing? I have been 
 looking every where for you. Come, dinner is quite 
 ready." I asked her if the young man was her son ; 
 "Yes, alas! (she replied) lie is my poor unhappy 
 boy : — It is a grievous affliction, but heaven's will 
 be done !" " lias he been long in this condition ?" 
 enquired I. " For the last six months (she replied) 
 he has been in the quiet state you see him now. and 
 this is a great blessing ! One whole year he waa 
 quite raving and chained down in a madhouse ; 
 he is now as harmless as can be, and all he talks 
 about is kings and emperors. Ah ! he was a dutiful 
 son, and once helped to maintain me: he wrote the 
 * finest hand too — but all of a sudden he became low- 
 spirited, was seized with a burning fever, became 
 quite distracted, and is always now just as you see 
 him. Oh, sir, if I were to tell you" — 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 105 
 
 I interrupted her by my anxiety to know when it 
 was that he was so happy, very happy. " Ah, poor 
 fellow, (said she, with a compassionating smile) 
 that was the time he was so raving, and chained 
 to the floor. That time he never ceases to sorrow 
 for." Astonished and overcome at this scene, I put 
 some money into her hand and departed. 
 
 u Then you icere happy," said I to myself, as I 
 hastily remeasured my way back to the town, "and 
 just like a jish in ivater." " Gracious powers !" I 
 exclaimed, "is such the destiny of mortals! Is man 
 only happy before he is in the possession of reason, 
 and when 'he has lost it ? Poor maniac ! — and yet I 
 think thy condition is enviable. Not dreaming of 
 disappointment, thou hast a way to gather flowers 
 for thy goddess — in winter, thou art troubled be- 
 cause thou canst not find any, and unable to discern 
 the cause of such barrenness ; but, as for me, I 
 saunter about without hope and without motive, 
 and return as listless as I set out. It appears to 
 thy erroneous imagination, that, were the States 
 General to do thee justice, thou wouldst be a man 
 of consequence ; and it is a comfort to thee, that 
 thou canst assign thy misfortunes to a power, foreign 
 to thyself. Thou art ignorant, nor canst thou be 
 made sensible, that thy wretchedness is generated in 
 an inverted mind, a disordered brain, and that 
 all the aid of earthly power is insufficient to relieve 
 thee. 
 
 May they die forsaken by hope, who ridicule the 
 F\ck man on his journey to distant springs, only to 
 increase his malady, and render his death more 
 painful ; or who exult over the guilty soul, which, 
 to shun the scourges of conscience, and procure 
 some internal quiet, performs a pilgrimage to the 
 Holy Land by way of penance ! Every rugged path, 
 each piercing thorn that lacerates his feet, and 
 draws the vital fluid from the wound, is a drop of 
 balsam to his mind, and every night of his hard 
 
106 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 journey is an advance to consolation and pardon.— 
 Ye pompous declaimers— -ye who raise yourself on 
 stilts to deliver flowery orations — will you venture 
 to call this impulse an extravagance ?— extrava- 
 gance ! Thou great power, who seest my tears, is 
 not the misery apportioned to us sufficient, without 
 the persecuting follies of those who would deprive 
 us of all consolation, and destroy our trust in thy 
 love and mercy? The invigorating vine, the bal- 
 sainic plant, are the produce of thy benign hand :— 
 Relief, and saving health, emanate from thee! Al- 
 mighty Father ! whom I know not— thou who once 
 didst enliven this gloomy soul, why hast thou for- 
 saken me ! — Recall thy errant servant — whisper 
 peace to his afflicted bosom — to that soul which 
 thirsts after thee, and dreads thy awful silence! 
 Where is the father who would reject his son, be- 
 cause he suddenly rushes into his presence — falls on 
 I his paternal bosom, and exclaims, " O my dear 
 father, forgive me, if I have erred in shortning my 
 journey, and returning to thee before the appointed 
 time ! — I have found the world every where the 
 same — its labours and cares, its pleasures and re 
 wards, were all alike indifferent to me.— In thy pre 
 sence only is true unalloyed happiness: let me then 
 enjoy the light of thy countenance, nor spurn, adora 
 ble father, the lost child who seeks thee!" 
 
 LETTER LXXX. 
 
 Dec. 1. 
 
 O, MY friend, the unfortunate maniac of when 
 I spoke of in my last, (whose insanity is rather t 
 subject of envy than pity) was a clerk to Charlotte's 
 father. He conceived an unhappy attachment ta 
 her, which he long cherished and concealed in his 
 bosom, before he dared avow it.— He was rejected, 
 and the consequence ha\ing fallen upon his Intel, 
 lects, he is now such as I saw him yesterday. The 
 brief information has sunk deeply into my mind.— 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 107 
 
 The circumstance was communicated to me by Al- 
 bert, with all that common-place indifference with 
 which you will read it. 
 
 LETTER LXXXI. 
 
 Dec. 4. 
 
 INDEED, my dear friend, I can no longer en- 
 dure this present state ; it is insupportable ! I was 
 seated this day by the side of Charlotte, who was 
 playing on her harpsichord, with indescribable taste 
 and expression. Her little sister sat on my lap, 
 dressing her doll.— The tears began to bedew my 
 cheeks — till at length, in leaning over her, her wed- 
 ding ring attracted my eyes, and they fell in pro- 
 fusion. She then immediately commenced that 
 seraphic air which has so often charmed my ear 
 and tranquillized this bosom. — It produced its wont- 
 ed effect for a time ; and then it served only to re- 
 new the memory of the happy days I once knew.— 
 Sorrow ! blighted hopes ! Starting up, I traversed 
 the room with hasty strides, and in an agitated man- 
 ner I exclaimed, " For heaven's sake, cease to play 
 that tune !"— Charlotte stopped, gazed steadfastly 
 on me, and then with a smile that anguished my 
 very soul, replied, " I fear you are very ill, Werter. 
 — The food that once pleased you is now your aver- 
 sion—Go, and endeavour, I entreat you, to be more 
 composed." I tore myself from her presence- 
 Heaven sees my pangs, and will, I trust, ere long, 
 terminate them ! 
 
 LETTER LXXXII. 
 
 Dec. 6. 
 
 HER image incessantly haunts me !— Awake or 
 sleeping, my fancy sees no other object !— When I 
 close my eyes, this brain is impressed with the 
 beauty of her dark lovely eyes.— Here — how shall I 
 convey my meaning — In my slumbers her lovely 
 image floats upon my imagination as on a sea, and 
 
9 
 
 108 SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 the airy form absorbs all my faculties! — What is 
 man ?— that self-exalted demi-god, whose energies 
 sunk into weakness when he requires them.— Whe- 
 ther he swims in the stream of enjoyment, or stems 
 the current of misery, he must one day be arrested 
 in his progress ; and, while he is filled with the 
 hope of immortality, he is certain that he must soon 
 return to his original cold existence. 
 
 The Editor ( Goethe) to the Reader, with 
 
 THE ADDITIONAL LETTERS. 
 
 IN order to give a more circumstantial and con- 
 nected account of the close of Werter's life, I am 
 compelled to suspend the chain of his correspondence 
 by the following narrative, the particulars of which 
 were furnished by the old Steward, Charlotte, Al- 
 bert, his own servant, and the people with whom he 
 resided. 
 
 Werter's unhappy passion for Charlotte had im- 
 perceptibly operated to weaken the harmony which 
 at first existed between her and Albert. He loved 
 his wife affectionately, but with moderation, and his 
 first zeal had by degrees yielded to the attention 
 requisite on business ;— but, so little was he aware 
 of any change in himself, that he was not in the 
 least sei«sible of any difference between the clays of 
 courtship and marriage: but the particular atten- 
 tions of Werter to his wife made him secretly un- 
 happy ; this conduct was an infringement of his 
 rights, and an implied censure on his own indif- 
 ference.— His dissatisfaction was farther increased 
 by the accumulating weight of his employment, and 
 the inconsiderable remuneration he received. — 
 Werter's mind, preyed upon incessantly by sorrow, 
 had lost all that fire and genius it had once pos- 
 sessed; it was no longer vivacious and perceptive, 
 but in society appeared inanimate and joyless. The 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 109 
 
 marked alteration could not but produce its effect 
 on the susceptible mind of Charlotte, which became 
 grave and thoughtful — an effect attributed by Al- 
 bert and Werter to different causes. The husband 
 placed it to an increasing attachment for the lover, 
 and the latter thought it arose from the deep con- 
 cern she felt at the cold behaviour of Albert. A 
 want of confidence between the two friends gradual 
 ly took root, and rendered their interview irksome to 
 each other. If Albert knew that Werter were in his 
 wife's appartment he avoided entering, and Werter, 
 sensible that he disapproved of his visits, and unable 
 to tear himself wholly from the presence of Char- 
 lotte, at length embraced those opportunities of 
 seeing her when he knew Albert was most occupied. 
 
 This privacy increased the severity and jealousy 
 of Albert, till he could no longer refrain from re- 
 buking her on the subject; urging, that were it for 
 the sake of her character only, she ought to observe 
 a less impassioned behaviour towards Werter, and 
 forbid the frequency of his visits. It was at this 
 juncture that Werter meditated the purpose of sui- 
 cide, which had long been a favourite theme with 
 him ; particularly since his return to the neighbour- 
 hood of Charlotte. It was a fancy he had argued 
 upon and justified in his own mind; but he was 
 unwilling to perform the fatal act with precipitation 
 or rashness;— he was resolved to act like a man who 
 is the master of himself, who can inflict the blow 
 with equal fortitude and serenity. 
 
 On the 8th of December he called as usual, to 
 see Charlotte, and found her family in the greatest 
 consternation. This had arisen from a melancholy 
 incident on the preceding night ; the murder of a 
 poor peasant. At first Werter took no particular ac- 
 count of the circumstance, and, on entering the 
 room where Charlotte and her father were, he heard 
 her anxiously requesting him not to indulge his in- 
 clination of going abroad to inquire into the parti- 
 
 Kk 
 
110 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 culars of the murder, when he was scarcely re 
 covered from his late severe illness. Word was 
 presently after brought that the corpse had been 
 found at daybreak, facing the door of a house ; 
 that the murderer was not yet discovered, but very 
 heavy suspicion had alighted on a young man who 
 had formerly been in the service of the same widow 
 as the deceased was, and which he had quitted with 
 chagrin and disappointment. This report awakened 
 the recollection of Werter, who started up, exclaim- 
 ing, " Impossible ! I must set out for Walheiin 
 instantly I can't delay a moment!" This intention 
 he carried into effect immediately, persuaded of the 
 strong probability that the young peasant, whom he 
 had several times before spoken to, and been so 
 pleased with, was the unhappy criminal. Arrived 
 at the inn in Walheim, he found all the inhabitants 
 of the place assembled, his ears were assailed by a 
 loud clamour and shouting at a distance, which pro- 
 ceeded from a number of armed men, whose manner 
 indicated that they had apprehended the murderer. 
 — There was no longer any doubt in the mind of 
 Werter. He directly recognised the youth who 
 had avowed to him his ardent passion for the 
 widow, and whom he had but a short time before 
 met, wandering about with a countenance expres 
 sive of vindictive purposes and secret despair. " Un- 
 happy youth !" said Werter, addressing the prisoner 
 in a tone of pity ; "what have you been guilty of?" 
 —The prisoner gazed upon him vacantly, was silent 
 for a few minutes, and then exclaimed, " No one 
 8b all possess her ! — Never shall she be the wife of 
 another !" The poor wretch was guarded to the iun, 
 and Werter left the place immediately. The scene 
 had such an effect upon his mind, already predis- 
 posed for the sombre and melancholy, that he found 
 its sympathy excited in the highest degree ; he felt 
 an ardent inclination to extricate the love-sick lad 
 from his awful situation. Criminal as he certainly 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 Ill 
 
 was, Werter altogether acquitted him of the crime, 
 and having satisfied his own judgment on this head, 
 he thought he could make his innocence as conspi- 
 cuous at another bar. — On his return, he flow, al- 
 most hreathless and exhausted, to the Steward's 
 office, to plead the cause of the prisoner; there he 
 unexpectedly met with Albert, whose presence at 
 first quite deranged his purpose ; he, however, after 
 a time, recovered from his embarrassment, and be- 
 gan with great animation to espouse the cause of the 
 young lover. He pleaded with great pathos and 
 subtle argument in his favour, but the Steward ex- 
 pressed his disapprobation by shaking his head fre- 
 quently, and at last closed his pleading by a severe 
 censure for attempting the defence of a murderer. 
 " To what effect would laws be enacted," said the 
 Steward^ " if mercy were in such cases to super- 
 sede justice ? As a magistrate it is my duty to en- 
 force the laws, and by the law he must stand or 
 fall." 
 
 Unmoved by this discouragement, Werter repeat- 
 ed his entreaties, and went so far as to hint, that, if 
 the lad could be indulged with a favourable moment 
 to make his escape, he would willingly assist him. 
 During the time this was passing, Albert had stood 
 silent and attentive, but he now replied in answer 
 to Werter, and on the side of the Steward ; this so 
 deeply wounded Werter, that he hurried out of the 
 room abruptly, scarcely giving the old gentleman 
 lime to exclaim, " It is impossible — he cannot be 
 saved !" 
 
 This sentence of death sunk deeply into his heart; 
 and the impression it made is evident in the follow- 
 ing letter, which was doubtless written on his return 
 home, and was, after his decease, found among his 
 manuscripts. 
 
112 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 LETTER LXXXIII. 
 
 UNHAPPY youth — thy fate is sealed !— thou art 
 not to be pardoned ! — Alas, it is evident that DE- 
 STRUCTION awaits us both ! 
 
 It is plain that Werter was deeply affected by 
 what had fallen from Albert before the Steward, 
 and, indeed, imagined that his remarks had been 
 cniefly pointed at himself ; hence the supposed sar- 
 casm which he thought they conveyed, increased his 
 resolution to destroy himself ; though, in fact, if he 
 had but soberly reflected, he must have been con- 
 vinced, that the sentiments of both these gentlemen 
 were just, and such as had arisen from the nature of 
 the crime. His doubts and struggles are conspicuous 
 in the fragment of a letter, which was found, un- 
 dated, with his other papers, and appears to have 
 been intended for his friend. 
 
 LETTER LXXXIV. 
 
 HER angelic presence, her soft looks, her anxiety 
 for my welfare, have still the power to draw tears 
 from my phrenzied moistless brain ! — The poor lad 
 sunk under the loss of his mistress — he could net 
 bear that a rival should share her love ! — Alas ! the 
 rigid Steward might have saved him, and justice 
 would not have been outraged ! It is only drawing 
 the curtain, and passing to the other side — no more! 
 Then whence these apprehensions, these terrors ? 
 — Because we know not what is behind the scene — 
 because there is no more returning ! — Where all is 
 uncertainty, the soul is lost in conjecture, confusion, 
 and dismay ! 
 
 DURING his secretaryship in the service of the 
 Minister, he had endured too many mortifications 
 to blot them from bis memory. On the contrary, 
 
sorrows of werter. 
 
 113 
 
 whenever he spoke upon this subject, it was manifest 
 that his pride was hurt, and he felt degraded: hence 
 arose his disgust for public affairs and political 
 transactions. From this time may be dated his con 
 tempt of the world, and the indulgence of those 
 eccentric opinions and conceptions which occur in 
 his letters, and which were augmented by that 
 boundless passion which enervated all his remaining 
 energies. Placed in an unvaried changeless situa 
 tion — his hopeless interviews with the most amiable 
 and lovely of women, whose inward peace he 
 wounded — his agitation and struggles — and behold- 
 ing his life glide away in nothingness — these united, 
 were the monster that drove him to remove beyond 
 the confines of this wretched world. 
 
 The letters which follow, found with several others 
 after his decease, clearly indicate the language of a 
 distempered brain. 
 
 LETTER LXXXV. 
 
 Dec. 12. 
 
 I COMPARE my feelings to those which must 
 have agitated the poor wretches who were formerly 
 supposed to be possessed of devils. — Strange propen- 
 sities and wild startings seize me — they are neither 
 from pain nor passion ; but a lurking vindictive rage 
 which swells in my bosom, and almost obstructs my 
 respiration. When thus attacked, I quit my bed in 
 haste, and seek relief in wandering at midnight 
 -among the dreary dark scenes which this steril sea- 
 son exhibits. I was compelled to take this step last 
 night. I had heard that the river, and all the adja- 
 cent brooks, had overflowed their banks, and that 
 the ground from Walheim to my favourite valley, 
 was inundated. I set off for the latter at past eleven 
 o'clock — the view was awful and dismal — the moon 
 was veiled by a thick cloud, but still some of its 
 scattered beams glittered en the foaming waves, as 
 they burst over the meadows, and dashed against 
 
114 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 the banks and hedges. The whole valley resembled 
 an unquiet sea, agitated by a howling tempest;— 
 the moon, now throwing otf her dark mantle, shone 
 resplendently, and presented more perfectly the 
 picture of convulsed nature. Echo replied to echo, 
 and redoubled the roarings of the winds and waves. 
 I crept to the edge of the precipice, and wished — 
 and shuddered. — I extended my arms — leaned over 
 — sighed and remained absorbed in the delightful 
 idea of burying all my woes and disquietudes in the 
 watery abyss below me ! — Why were my feet im- 
 moveably fixed to the spot ? Why could I not em- 
 brace this termination of my miseries? — The reason, 
 my dear friend, is evident — my hour is not yet come ! 
 Oh, how rapturously would I have thrown off this 
 mortal coil to have incorporated with whirlwinds, 
 to wing the clouds, and billow the deep, 
 
 1 looked down with an eye of sorrow upon one 
 dear little spot, where I once stood under a willow 
 by the side of Charlotte ; it was so hidden hy the 
 water, that only the tree could scarcely be distin- 
 guished. Then, my friend, the old places of resort 
 occurred to me — the Steward's house, the contiguous 
 meadows, the leafy recesses, our favourite walks, 
 all perhaps laid waste and ruined by the torrent ; — 
 all the witnesses once of precious hours — the recol- 
 lection of which brings madness to my heart. The 
 sleeping prisoner, like me, in his dreams, again pos- 
 sesses all those blessings which in reality he is de- 
 prived of. I paused — but no self-reproach is mine 
 — for I am not afraid — to die! — and this is what 1 
 ought. — All I resemble now is a weak tottering 
 old woman, who picks up dry sticks by the hedge 
 side, and asks for alms from door to door, to 
 lengthen out an existence of wretchedness and 
 penury 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 115 
 
 LETTER LXXXVL 
 
 MY mind yet remains unaccountably deranged. 
 Have I one trait in my love for Charlotte that is not 
 most chaste and holy ? — Is not my passion that of a 
 brother for his sister? — Did my heart ever conceive 
 a wish that was dishonourable ?— Oaths might attest 
 this, but I need not resort to them. And now— 
 again a dream !— Surely they speak rationally who 
 attribute the conflict of passions to external powers ! 
 —The last night— my head trembles while I write- 
 even last night I folded her in these arms— I pressed 
 her to my doating bosom, and on her dewy lips im- 
 printed ardent kisses!— In her amorous eyes love 
 sat luxuriously playing— mine twinkled with ecstasy 
 Tn recalling to memory these imaginary transportr 
 of bliss, am I guilty of a crime ?— O Charlotte, Char- 
 lotte—my fate is sealed — my brain is too weak to 
 sustain this perturbation, this inversion of all order 
 —I am distracted— for a whole week I have not 
 been myself. Tears flow from my eyes— to me all 
 places are the same, for they are all devoid of peace ! 
 —I am in want of nothing, yet T desire more than 
 this world can give. Alas, it were better far to quit 
 this scene of misery without delay. 
 
 LETTER LXXXVIL 
 
 YOUR advice meets with my thanks and appro- 
 bation — I must depart— and as you judiciously re- 
 mark, quit my present situation without delay. That 
 part, however, which follows, I do not entirely ap- 
 prove of. You wish me to return to your neigh- 
 bourhood ; but I conceive that one of my romantic 
 excursions would exhilarate my broken spirits, par- 
 ticularly as a hard frost may be expected, and its 
 constant attendant— good roads. Your friendly pro- 
 posal to come and fetch me, is highly gratifying to 
 
116 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 my heart ; but I must desire you to defer this inten- 
 tion till about a fortnight, and not commence your 
 journey till you have received another letter from me. 
 Fruit should continue on the tree till it be ripe, and 
 in this respect a fortnight sooner or later makes a 
 great alteration. Desire my mother not to forget 
 me in her prayers, and be sure to inform her, iliat I 
 am sincerely eorry for all the disquietudes I have 
 unintentionally occasioned her. Unfortunate tiiat I 
 am ! — it has long been my doom to inflict anguish 
 on those whom I was most anxious to render häppy. 
 Adieu, my dearest friend, may you enjo} all the 
 blessings to which your goodness entitles you. I 
 need wish you no more— farewell ! 
 
 THIS letter was written on the Sunday preceding 
 Ohristmas day, and on the same evening Werter 
 went at dusk to the house of Charlotte, and found 
 her alone. She was busily engaged, according to 
 their annual custom, in preparing little presents for 
 her brothers and sisters, which were tobe distributed 
 on Christmas eve. He entered into conversation 
 upon the delights children found in these little di- 
 versions incident to the season, and the innocent 
 mirth they occasioned. " Well," said Charlotte, 
 endeavouring to conceal her inward agitation with 
 a smile of tranquillity, " you shall have a present 
 too, Werter, if you behave yourself well." He im- 
 mediately asked, "What does my dear Charlotte 
 call behaving myself well ?" — She replied, — " Thurs- 
 day being Christmas eve, my father and all the 
 children will be here — and do you come too — I have 
 a present for each — but remember not to come be- 
 fore Christmas eve !" 
 
 Werter started at the emphasis in uttering this 
 sentence : he was about to reply, but Charlotte pre- 
 vented him, by repeating in the same manner, " I 
 entreat that you will not — there is no help for it — I 
 earnestly request, I claim it as a mark of your friend- 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 117 
 
 ship and regard — for there are reasons, very weighty- 
 reasons" — then softening the tone of her voice to 
 mildness, and putting on the most enchanting and 
 persuasive look, she tenderly added, — the favour I 
 solicit is for our mutual serenity and peace ! — Ah, 
 Werter — we must not indulge in this manner any 
 longer. Be firm then — return to your former self- 
 renounce this unhappy passion, this unfortunate at- 
 tachment, that love which T cannot — dare not pity." 
 — The averted face of Werter convinced Charlotte 
 that he was deeply agitated, and, taking him by the 
 hand, she proceeded : " Werter, you must submit — 
 nor childishly encourage a delusion ultimately big 
 with destruction. — Ami not the wife of another?— 
 Why then for a moment think of me ? — Ah ! I fear 
 it is from that motive only Werter pursues this un- 
 availing passion!" Werter here darted a frown of 
 indignation and disappointment at her, and exclaim- 
 ed — " This is not Charlotte's onm sentiment." — He 
 then traversed the room with a hurried step, and 
 suddenly stopping, added, " No — it is the little opi- 
 nion of the narrow sullen Albert!" Charlotte, in 
 the most easy manner she could assume, assured 
 him that he was prejudiced by the blindness of his 
 passion ; that the opinion she had given was licrown 
 —the opinion of her who esteemed him for his 
 many amiable qualities — who was alive to his in- 
 terest, and rendered unhappy by his indulgence of 
 an unjustifiable destructive affection. Again she ad- 
 dressed him, and urged that he should think of her 
 only as a sincere friend. " Reflect," said she, " on 
 the loss which the world sustains when a man of 
 such talent and genius withdraws himself from it. 
 Overcome this gloomy tendency, rejoin the circles 
 cf gayety, and there select some object for your love, 
 whose heart is deserving of yours, and whose hand 
 is unfettered. — Commence the search earnestly, and 
 success will soon convince you, that my counsels are 
 ^ood — the experiment is worth the making, and if, 
 
118 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 nothing result from it but the journey your mind 
 will be diverted and occupied. — Women of worth, 
 beauty, and accomplishments, are to be found every 
 where, and such a one, I doubt not, you may easily 
 find. Then return again to us, and share in that 
 domestic felicity and harmony which arise from an 
 interchange of pure and social intercourse." " This 
 speech, my dear Charlotte," said Werter, with an 
 ironical smile, " ought to be published for the benefit 
 of all pedagogues and moralists. Indulge me but a 
 short— short time longer, and then all will be well 
 again — " " But remember, Werter, you are not 
 lo see me before Christmas eve." He was about to 
 reply, but Albert unexpectedly came in. — They sa- 
 luted each other with great coldness, and Werter in 
 apparent embarrassment walked up and down the 
 room. They talked upon indifferent topics, in which 
 they had no interest, till Albert demanded of his 
 wife, if she had attended to the execution of some 
 trifling commissions which he had intrusted to her 
 to do ; upon her replying in the negative, he burst 
 into such a train of galling reproach, that it cut 
 Werter to the heart. He was anxious to go, but he 
 wanted resolution, and in this unpleasant, situation 
 he remained till eight o'clock, a prey to his increas- 
 ing acrimony and irritability of temper. When the 
 cloth was laid by the servant, he took his leave, in 
 consequence of the pointed formality with which 
 Albert asked him to take supper. 
 
 Oppressed with melancholy, and moving with a 
 measured step, Werter returned home, and taking 
 the candle from his servant, retired, silently and 
 alone, to his chamber. He was heard to weep and 
 talk with great earnestness, and to pace hastily up 
 and down his room. He afterward threw himself, 
 undressed, on the bed, in which state his servant 
 found him at eleven o'clock, who then ventured in, 
 and was permitted to draw off his boots, but receiv- 
 ed a particular charge not to come in again till he 
 rung for him. 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 119 
 
 On Monday morning, December the 21st, he wrote 
 the following letter, Avhieh was found sealed in his 
 bureau, after his death, and given to Charlotte. It 
 is here presented in the unconnected manner in 
 which it appears to have been originally written. 
 
 LETTER LXXXVIII. 
 
 Dearest Charlotte, 
 THE scene closes— the fatal determination is taken, 
 and death stands ready to strike ! — I tell you this 
 with composure and deliberation, apart from all the 
 impulse of violent transport or disappointed passion ! 
 At the moment when these last sad lines will meet 
 your weeping eyes, then O most lovely and amiable 
 of women, will the inanimate form of him whose 
 highest bliss in the last moments of his life was to 
 see and converse with you, be deposited in the cold 
 grave ! — Ah, what a night has this convulsed bosom 
 endured ! — no — rather let me call it the happy night 
 that leads to an endless day of peace, since it has 
 banished al'lmy irresolution, and fixed the period of 
 my existence 1 I am resolved on death ! — When I 
 tore myself away from you yesterday, my senses, 
 like the elements, were jarring and portentous : my 
 heart was depressed — no hope, no beam of comfort 
 irradiated this dark mind — but ice, cold ice, seemed 
 to compose my wretched frame ! With great efforts 
 T reached home. Directly I entered my apartment, 
 I fell on my knees to pray, and heaven, as a last fa- 
 vour, was pleased to grant me the consolation of 
 shedding tears ! — My distracted soul was hurried by 
 a thousand fancies— a thousand projects rushed suc- 
 cessively through my brain — then came the last — 
 last one — often the subject of former contemplation, 
 and now of unalterable decision — DEATH ! ! ! — It 
 is not despair, but the assurance that life for me 
 contains nothing worthy of possessing. The cup of 
 wo is full —the measure of my sufferings is complete 
 
120 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 — I have therefore reached the gate of death, and 
 that awful bourn must be passed for the happiness 
 of— you, my dearest Charlotte ! — Yes, for that must 
 one of the three perish! — and shall Werter shrink 
 from being the sacrifice ? — O, thou soul of celestial 
 goodness, how shall I dare to avow, that my racked 
 mind, impelled by madness and jealousy, has more 
 than once conceived the horrid infernal idea of mur- 
 dering your husband!* Abandoned as I am, justice 
 demands that I should cease to exist ! 
 
 Werter rung for his servant, about ten in the 
 morning, and on his coming in told him, he wa3 
 about to take a long journey in a few days, and 
 therefore desired that his clothes might be put in 
 order, his bills called in and discharged, some books 
 be collected which he had lent, and two months 
 allowance be advanced to all the poor people who 
 received weekly assistance from him. Having break- 
 fasted in his room, he ordered his horse and rode 
 to the Steward's, who happened not to be at home. 
 He then took a pensive walk in the garden, and 
 seemed to brood over all the ideas which it would 
 naturally suggest. No sooner were the children 
 apprised of his visit than they broke in upon his 
 solitude, and came skipping and dancing to tell him, 
 that " when to-morrow, and to-morrow, and one 
 day more was gone, their sister was to give them a 
 Christmas gift a-piece !" — after which they began to 
 describe to him all the nice things and mirth tin ir 
 little fancies had depicted on that festive occasion. 
 "To-morrow," said Werter, " and to-morrow, anil 
 one day more!" — and he kissed all of them tenderly. 
 The youngest boy, seeing him prepared to go, stopped 
 him to whisper, that his eldest brother had written 
 some very pretty lines upon the new year, and all 
 friends were to have a copy — one for papa, one for 
 Charlotte and Albert, and one for Mr. Werter too — 
 to be presented early on New-year's day. 
 
 * Werter perhaps imbibed this idea from the young man who 
 was in love with his widow mistress, and murdered her servant 
 his rival. 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 121 
 
 This last intention overpowered his feelings — his 
 fortitude forsook him, and giving each of the chil- 
 dren a trifle, he mounted his horse, and, bidding 
 them remember him kindiy to their father, he rode 
 off with a full heart ! — He reached home about five 
 o'clock, and directed his servant to keep up the fire, 
 to place his books and linen at the bottom of the 
 trunk, and lay Iiis clothes over them. The follow- 
 ing fragment appears to have been written the same 
 evening. , 
 
 Beloved, 
 
 YOU do not expect to see me! — you are certain 
 that I shall not disobey you, nor see you before 
 Christmas eve. Dear angel to-day or never! — On 
 Christmas eve you will clasp this paper to your 
 bosom, and lave it with your flowing tears! — It is 
 decreed, Charlotte, and I feel relieved ! — I am more 
 collected since I have resolved upon death ! 
 
 ABOUT six o'clock he repaired to Albert's, and 
 found Charlotte at home, and alone: she would 
 have been denied, had he not prevented it by coming 
 too hastily into the room. She was exceedingly 
 shocked at his visit, as she had assured her husband 
 in a late conversation, that Werter would not call 
 again till Christmas eve, in consequence of which 
 Albert, regardless of the rain, set out on horseback 
 to settle some business with a neighbouring steward. 
 He had for a long time postponed this journey, 
 which was too distant to prevent his returning the 
 same night. This delay had deeply chagrined her, 
 since it had arisen from a want of confidence in her 
 conduct. Alone and full of serious meditations on 
 past occurrences, she turned an eye of examination 
 into her own conduct, and that of Albert, whose 
 suspicions were now the cause of her wretchedness. 
 In neither, however, could she find any just reason 
 
 V 
 
122 
 
 SORROWS OF "WERTER. 
 
 for reproach — Werter came next into review, in 
 whom she saw much to blame, but nothing to hate. 
 From their earliest acquaintance she had felt a 
 sympathetic attraction prevail in her bosom, and this 
 preference, by repeated attentions, and a mutual 
 susceptibility of mind, displayed in so long and 
 familiar an intimacy, at length was indelibly im- 
 printed on her heart! — Her over-charged feelings 
 and tender sorrows had just found some alleviation 
 in a shower of tears, when she heard Werter running 
 up stairs, at the same time asking the question, if 
 she were at home, without waiting for the answer. 
 As soon as he entered, she said to him, in a con- 
 fused and severe manner, " Werter, you have for- 
 feited your word !" " I did not make any promise," 
 he replied. " Ah !" rejoined Charlotte, " for both 
 our sakes, you should have obeyed my earnest re- 
 quest." She now prudently despatched the servant 
 to invite some of her friends to spend the evening, 
 that they might not only be witnesses to what pasoed 
 in conversation, but that Werter might be induced 
 to retire the sooner, in consequence of seeing the 
 ladies home. He had brought some books ; which, 
 with those he had before lent her, she turned into 
 subjects of discourse, adding to these other indif- 
 ferent topics, to amuse away the time till some of 
 her party came. Presently, however, the seivant 
 returned with a variety of excuses, and this pre- 
 caution was of no effect. Though embarrassed at 
 the disappointment for a little while, the approba- 
 tion of her own conscience and purity of heart; so : 
 re-inspired her with confidence, and made her look 
 with an eye superior to the little jealousies of Al- 
 bert. Hence she rejected hec previous intention of 
 ordering the maid to remain hi the room, and turned 
 to her harpsichord, at which she played a few of 
 her favourite airs, till, finding her wonted serenity 
 had returned, she sat down on the sofa by the side 
 of Werter, and asked him, if, lie had selected any 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 123 
 
 thing to read to her. Upon his gravely replying in 
 the negative, she said, " Open that drawer, Werter, 
 and in it you will find your own translation of the 
 Songs of Ossian, which I have not yet read, because 
 I knew they would come with more sweetness from 
 your lips ; but for soms time past you have been 
 such an idler, that I was unwilling to ask you about 
 them !" 
 
 With a faint smile, he rose to fetch the manu- 
 script ; but he seemed violently agitated as he took 
 it up. His eyes were suffused with tears, and his 
 voice faltered, as he read. He proceeded till he 
 came to that tender passage wherein Armin deplores 
 the loss of his beloved daughter. 
 
 Alone on the briny-lav'd rock 
 
 My daughter exclaim'd in her wo ; 
 
 For help and her father she call'd — 
 Her father no help could bestow. 
 
 By the moon, as I stood on the shore, 
 I faintly could trace her fine foim ; 
 
 My ears by her shrieks were appall'd — 
 Her shrieks that exceeded the storm. 
 
 Her voice, ere the dawning of day 
 Had ceas'd to declaim the sad tale, 
 
 It sunk into whispers like grass 
 
 That's wav'd on the rock by the gale. 
 
 She perish'd — exhausted by grief 
 She left thee, lone Armin, forlorn *, 
 
 Thy prowess in war is no more, 
 Thy pride among women is gone ! 
 
 When storms from the mountains arise, 
 And waves from the North billow high, 
 
 I sit by the surge, and I look 
 At the rock where she died, with a sigh ! 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER 
 
 Whene'er the moon sets, I behold 
 The shades of my children — alas! 
 
 They rise, but in part to my view 
 As in converse they mournfully pass. 
 
 u In pity, my children, O speak !" 
 
 Unheeded, I see them depart : — 
 O Carmor, I've reason to weep, 
 
 For deep is the wo at my heart ! 
 
 A flood of tears streamed from the eyes of Char- 
 lotte, and gave a partial relief to the oppression 
 which the poem had excited. Werter threw down 
 the paper, grasped her hand, and bedewed it with 
 his tears. Charlotte supported herself on the other 
 arm, and held her handkerchief to her eyes — their 
 agitation was mutual and extreme. They traced the 
 similitude of their own misfortune in this unhappy 
 tale, and their feelings sprang from the same source. 
 Werter's eyes w r ere ardently riveted on her snowy 
 arms — she trembled, and made an effort to leave the 
 room ; but a tender sympathy detained her — till, re- 
 lieved by a deep sigh and more tears, she desired 
 him to continue the subject — Werter, though faint 
 and sinking, took up the paper, and, in broken ac- 
 cents, proceeded: 
 
 Say, why dost thou wake me ? O gale ! 
 
 It answers, "with dew-drops I'm wet — 
 But the time of my fading draws nigh, 
 
 The blast when my leaves shall all set." 
 
 The trav'ler shall come on the morrow, 
 He who knew me the bravest of men — 
 
 In the meads he shall seek me in sorrow, 
 But never behold me again ! 
 
 The pointed allusion of those words to the situa- 
 tion of Werter, rushed with all the electric rapidity 
 
SORKOWS OF WERTER. 
 
 125 
 
 of lightning to the inmost recesses of his soul. In 
 an agony of despair, he projected himself at the 
 feet of Charlotte, and, seizing her hands, pressed 
 them alternately to his eyes and forehead. Char- 
 lotte, for the first time, conceived the fatal project 
 he gave such indications of: — the sorrow she felt 
 almost deprived her of the use of reason : she affec- 
 tionately folded her hands in his, pressed them to 
 her bosom, and, while absorbed in the emotions of 
 poignant sensibility, and gently inclining her head 
 over him, her glowing cheek sank upon his. At 
 this juncture of conflicting passion, they were in- 
 sensible to every thing but mutual love. Werter en- 
 folded her in his arms, strained her to his palpitating 
 heart, and planted on her lips a thousand ardent 
 kisses ! — " Werter !" was all she exclaimed in a 
 voice of tremor, and averted her face. Again she 
 repeated " Werter !" — and with a feeble hand, she 
 removed him from her ; once more at liberty, she 
 withdrew a few paces, and then with the majestic 
 and imperious tone of virtue, she once more em- 
 phaticallv pronounced the name of " Werter !" 
 Struck with the warning awful voice, he sank upon 
 his knees, at a more respectful distance ! — Agitated 
 beyond expression, she tremblingly advanced to the 
 door, and in the accents of" pity, mingled with dis- 
 pleasure, she thus addressed him : " Werter, this is 
 the last time we meet — never shall you behold me 
 again !" — She then summoned every look intc her 
 countenance that is benign, tender, and affectionate, 
 and, after gazing upon him for a moment, fiew to 
 her chamber, and locked the door. Werter re- 
 mained on his knees, with his arms instinctively ex- 
 tended towards her, but he made no effort to detain 
 her. For some time he continued on the floor, his 
 head reclining on the sofa, till he was roused from 
 his stupor by the servant coming to lay the cloth. 
 During this, he traversed the room, impatient till 
 the servant was gone, when he softly stole to the 
 
126 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 door of Charlotte's chamber, and in a soft voice ar- 
 ticulated, " Charlotte, Charlotte — one word more 
 — only one — one last farewell!" He listened, he 
 waited — but no answer was returned. Again he 
 listened, urged this as a last favour; all was silent : 
 — he then tore himself from the place, and in the 
 piercing tone of despair ejaculated, " Charlotte, dear, 
 dearest Charlotte, farewell ! — farewell — for ever !" 
 
 He directed his tottering steps to the gate of the 
 town, where the guard knew him, and let him pass. 
 It was a dark stormy night, attended with much 
 rain and snow. He reached his abode about ele- 
 ven, and came in without his hat, which the servant 
 prudently passed unnoticed : — he also perceived, in 
 undressing him, that his clothes were wet and 
 dirty. This hat was afterwards found on the pin- 
 nacle of a rock, branching from the declivity of a 
 mountain, where it seemed beyond the practicabi- 
 lity of man to have climbed in such a dark and 
 stormy night without making a false step from the 
 precipice, and being dashed to atoms. He went to 
 bed, and enjoyed repose till late the next morning. 
 When his servant brought in the breakfast, he was 
 writing, in continuation of the former letter to Char- 
 lotte. 
 
 LETTER LXXXIX. 
 
 k 
 
 Continuation. 
 
 FOR the last, last time I open these eyes — Alas • 
 to them the sun will never rise again — a thick im- 
 penetrable mist is spread before it ! — No more v. ill 
 they be enchanted with thy angelic form — Yes! let 
 nature put on mourning, for your friend and lover 
 is on the verge of the awful abyss! — Death ! — what 
 is death ?— everlasting sleep ! — I feel the force of 
 this sentiment: yet when I say this day is my last, 
 I think I am in a dream. Ah ! what" means this 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 127 
 
 word last . To-day I stand upright, in all the pride 
 of perfection ;— to-morrow, cold and motionless, I lie 
 extended on tlie earth ! What is this annihilation, 
 of which we dream, but know nothing? I have 
 seen many die : but so contracted is the boundary 
 of our narrow intellects, that we have no definitive 
 conception of either the commencement or termina- 
 tion of our existence !— At this moment, I am my- 
 self, or rather, dearest of women, I am thine!— In 
 the next, cut off, lost to thee, perhaps, for ever ! — 
 But, no — no !— Charlotte, as we are sensible of our 
 present existence, we cannot be annihilated !— This 
 annihilation, this cessation of being, what is it ? — To 
 my mind it conveys no other idea than an empty 
 Round ! — Death ! — to be interred in a deep, dark, 
 cold grave ! There was a time when I had a friend, 
 the solace, the delight of my juvenile days — she 
 died : — I followe i her hearse — I stood by the side of 
 the grave when the coffin was let down, and heard 
 the creaking of the cords, as it rested on them. The 
 first shovel-full of earth that was thrown on the cof- 
 fin produced a hollow sound ; the succeeding ones 
 were heard more faintly, and at last the grave was 
 filled up ! — Then it was that I threw myself on the 
 ground, my heart was breaking, severed, over- 
 whelmed with sorrow !— But I was as insensible 
 to what had happened, as ignorant of what was to 
 happen ! — Death ! — grave ! — Unintelligible words ! 
 
 Forgive, forgive me, beloved Charlotte. Yester- 
 day ! — yesterday ! — oh ! that impassioned moment 
 ought to have been the last of my life — for then I 
 should have died in eestacy, knowing that I am be- 
 loved by thee ! — Loved by thee ! — there did the de- 
 lightful sense for the first time rush through and 
 enflame my bosom! — My lips still glow with the 
 sacred fire they received from thine ! — the torrent of 
 pleasure which then overflowed still sets into my 
 heart! — Ah, but to offend — forgive, forgive, dear 
 Charlotte ! I thought I was dear to thee ! — I read 
 
128 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 it in that animated look which thou first viewed mo 
 with. I was sensible of it the first time thou didst 
 gently press this hand ! — Yet, when I was absent, or 
 saw Albert at thy side, all my doubts and fears re- 
 vived. 
 
 Hast thou forgotten the flowers I received from 
 thee, when, at a crowded assembly, 1 could neither 
 get to speak to thee, nor couldst thou give me- thy 
 hand ? — I passed the half of that night in kneeling 
 and adoring those pledges of affection — Theirsweets 
 have worn away by time, and are now effaced ; but 
 an endless eternity could not extinguish the flame 
 which thy sweet lips kindled yesterday in my whole 
 frame ! — Thou lovest me ! — I have embraced thee in 
 these arms! — T have joined these enraptured lips to 
 thine! Mine only art thou, O my Charlotte — mine 
 for ever ! 
 
 I know that Albert is thy husband ! — What results r 
 — that he is thine for this life only — and in this life it 
 is holden criminal to love thee, to tear thee from him ! 
 This is my crime, and it shall be expiated. — It has 
 afforded me a taste of pleasure, a balm of comfort 
 which has revived my soul. Henceforth, though 1 
 shall never more sip delight at that celestial spring, 
 I call thee from this moment mine ! — Yes, Char- 
 lotte, thou art mine ! — I only go before thee to my 
 father — to thy father, to pour out my sorrows at the 
 foot of his celestial throne, and partake of his hea- 
 venly peace, till thou art ready to follow me — Then 
 will I fly on seraphic pinions to welcome thee — then 
 will I claim thee as my own, and in the presence of 
 the Eternal be united to thee from everlasting to 
 everlasting ! — This is no dream of hope, no raving of 
 fancy ; my intellects at this awful crisis are col- 
 lected and strong — they bid thee remember thai we 
 shall live in a future state ! that ice shall recognise, 
 we shall behold each other in a better world! 
 
 ABOUT eleven o'clock Werter inquired of his 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 129 
 
 servant if Albert had yet returned, and was an- 
 swered in the affirmative, as he had seen him pass 
 by on horseback. Werter then addressed the follow- 
 ing note to Albert, and sent it, unsealed, by his 
 servant : 
 
 " Dear Albert, 
 " Pray lend me your pistols, I am going a long 
 journey ! — Adieu! 
 
 WERTER." 
 
 The susceptible Charlotte passed that night in the 
 greatest distress and agitation. A crowd of rack- 
 ing ideas filled her restless fancy! The ardour of 
 Wcrter's passionate embraces had overcome every 
 Other barrier, and found their way to her heart ! — All 
 her former days of innocence and serenity were 
 contrasted with the present, and were more and 
 more alluring from comparison. She feared to en- 
 counter the frowns and reproaches of Albert, when 
 he should have been informed of Werter's visit, and 
 for the first time felt the necessity of reverting to 
 the aid of falsehood, and the concealment of that 
 ingenuous truth, which she had ever practised as a 
 sacred duty. Her great delicacy and indecision in 
 the affair increased her sense of the dilemma in 
 which she stood ; and yet she could neither resolve 
 to hate the author, nor forbid him her presence. 
 Languid and exhausted, she was but just dressed 
 when her husband entered; his presence now, for 
 the first time, afforded her no satisfaction, and she 
 trembled lest he should remark that she had been 
 weeping, and read in her pale countenance the want 
 of sleep — apprehensions which, on her part, served to 
 increase her difficulties. The eager manner in Avhich 
 she welcomed him on his return, was more expressive 
 of alarm and embarrassment than real satisfaction. 
 The difference was not to be concealed from the 
 penetrating eye of Albert, who, after opening some 
 
 M 
 
130 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 letters, significantly asked if there was any news, 
 and who had visited her during his absence? She 
 replied hesitatingly, that Werter had called yester 
 day, and staid about an hour. " He chooses his- 
 time very aptly !" said Albert churlishly, and with- 
 drew to his own room. Charlotte ramained alone, 
 in deep thought, for a quarter of an hour, during 
 which a new train of ideas entered her mind. 
 
 She was treated coldly by the man whom she had 
 always loved and esteemed ; and when his former 
 kindness, his generosity, and his unshaken Iovp, 
 passed in review before her, she felt the sting of in- 
 gratitude. Prompted by a secret impulse, she tot^? 
 her work in her hand, as was her usual custom, jumJ 
 followed to his room. Having entered, she mildly 
 asked if he were in want of any thing ; but Albei t 
 answered with a sullen negative, and began to write. 
 She then sat down, and worked, while Albert occa- 
 sionally rose, and walked up and down the room in 
 great agitation, during which she embraced the op- 
 portunity of entering into conversation with him ; 
 but in vain ; he answered with a disgustful brevity, 
 and resumed his seat at the writing-table. Her si- 
 tuation was now rendered the more galling, by the 
 efforts she made to conceal the distress she felt, and 
 to restrain the tears which were ready to flow. An 
 hour had passed away in this discordant manner 
 when the arrival of Werter's servant perfected the 
 misery of Charlette. When Albert had perused the 
 note, he turned to his wife, and coldly said, " Give 
 hi in the pistols — I wish him a good journey !" — This 
 order rushed like a thunderbolt through the ago- 
 nized brain of Charlotte — she rose alarmed, and 
 with an unwilling step went to the wall where the 
 pistols were suspended, and took them down trem- 
 blingly. She then leisurely began to clean them 
 from the dust, and would have made still greater 
 delay, had not a significant look from Albert com- 
 manded her to deliver the fatal weapons to the ser- 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 131 
 
 vant, which she did, unable to utter a single word : 
 she then folded up her work, and retired to her 
 chamber, where she gave way to the most poignant 
 grief and portentous forebodings. At times she felt 
 a rising inclination to return, and throw herself at 
 the feet of Albert, to divulge all that had happened 
 the preceding evening, to acknowledge her errors, 
 and her dreadful apprehensions : but these inten- 
 tions were frustrated, by the* conviction that such 
 measures would rather have a prejudicial effect, and 
 that Albert would on no account be induced to go 
 to Werter. Soon after, dinner was served, and a 
 friend of Charlotte's dropped in, whom she detained 
 to support the conversation. 
 
 Werter was in raptures when his rervant informed 
 him that Charlotte had delivered the pistols with' 
 her own hands. He partook of some bread and 
 wine, told his servant to get his dinner, and then sat 
 do .mi to write. 
 
 In continuation. 
 
 Dearest Charlotte, 
 YOUli hands have grasped these pistols, you 
 have cleansed them from the dust, you have wiped 
 them for me ! — and I press them to my lips. It is 
 plain that heaven approves of my design, since your 
 hands have furnished me with the fatal instruments, 
 those hands from which I have long earnestly wish- 
 ed to receive my fate ! — But you trembled when you 
 delivered them, and did not vouchsafe me one part- 
 ing farewell ! The moment is at hand which will 
 for ever unite us inseparably, and can your heart be 
 closed against me? O Charlotte, the tender im- 
 pression no time can erase ; and certain I am you 
 cannot hate the man who in his last moments pas- 
 sionately adores you ! 
 
 WERTER after dinner ordered his trunk to be 
 
132 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 packed up; and, having destroyed some papers, lie 
 went out to discharge a few small debts in the 
 neighbourhood — he returned soon after, and not- 
 withstanding the rain, went out again to the Count's 
 garden, and thence farther into the country ; he re- 
 turned at night, and once more resumed his pen. 
 
 LETTER XC. 
 
 My Dear William, 
 
 FOR the last time I have taken a view of the gar- 
 dens, the valleys, the mountains, and the sky. — 
 Farewell ! — entreat my dear mother to pardon me — 
 be the support and comfort of her declining years, 
 and heaven will reward your goodness ! — All my af- 
 fairs are arranged! — we only part to meet again in 
 another and a happier world! 
 
 Forgive me, Albert, for having disturbed the do 
 mestic tranquillity of your family. 1 have planted 
 the thorns of jealousy, and cancelled that mutual 
 confidence which once subsisted between you and 
 Charlotte! Accept my death as the remuneratjon— 
 it will remove every obstacle to your happiness! — 
 O, Albert, treat that angel with affection ; and the 
 benediction of heaven will be upon you both !" 
 
 He now inspected some other papers, some of 
 which he destroyed, and others he sealed up and 
 addressed to his friend. They were chiefly com- 
 posed of undigested ideas, and the spontaneous 
 effusions of a wandering mind. At ten he ordered 
 the servant to make up the fire, and bring in a pint 
 of wine; he was then dismissed, and retired to his 
 bed, which, as well as those of the rest of the fa- 
 mily, lay at a distant part of the house. He slept 
 in his cloths, that he migt be the more ready the 
 next morning to attend his master, who had inform- 
 ed him that the post-hurses would be ready at the 
 door by six o'clock. 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER 
 
 133 
 
 LETTER XCI. 
 
 Weder to Charlotte in continuation. 
 
 Past 11 o'clock. 
 
 NOW is all around me hushed, and my soul is 
 calm! Receive my thanks, merciful Father, For thy 
 goodness in suffering my hist moments to be col- 
 lected and firm! 
 
 Through my window I catch a glimpse of the stars 
 as the broken clouds are impetuously driven by the 
 wind. Ye bodies celestial, ye will never fui] — the 
 eternal Creator supports both you and me. As I 
 razed on these luminaries, that most beautiful of 
 all tho constellations presented itself to my sight — 
 it used to shine full on your door, when 1 parted 
 with you in the evening : — how often have I stretched 
 out my hands towards it, and invoked it as the wit- 
 ness of my felicity! — O Charlotte, where ecu I turn 
 that I am not reminded of thy divine image ? — On 
 all sides it surrounds me! — And all the things 
 which thy hand has pressed, I have, like a child, 
 collected together, and consider each trifle as hal- 
 lowed ! 
 
 Charlotte, I return thee thy dear profile — and 
 pray do not esteem it lightly, for I have lavished a 
 thousand fond kisses on it, and addressed to it a 
 thousand prayers ! — I have written to your father 
 to intreat that he will take care of my remains. At 
 that angle of the church-yard which looks towards 
 the meadows, are two lime trees — there let me lie— 
 your father can procure this for his friend, and I am 
 sure you will urge my request. Perhaps some de 
 vout Christians may hereafter object to be interred 
 near the corpse of such a one as I shall soon be» 
 — if so, then I must be buried in the high way, that 
 the priest and the levite, when they pass my tomb 
 may raise their sanctified looks to heaven, and be 
 
 Mm 
 
134 
 
 SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 thankful that they are not so — while the Samaritan 
 will stop, and drop the tear of pity for my fate. 
 
 Charlotte, I now prepare the fatal instrument 
 which thy hand presented ; nor do I feel one terror! 
 Have I not the satisfaction of perishing foi your 
 sake ? Will not my sacrifice restore peace and tran- 
 quillity to the bosom I adore ! Ah ! it is reserved 
 only to the few to shed their blood for the happiness 
 of those who are dearer to them than existence. 
 
 Let me, Charlotte, be interred in the same dress I 
 now have on :— it has Leon worn in thy presence, 
 and therefore it is dear to nie. I have requested 
 this indulgence also of youi father. My soul hovers 
 over the grave ! Do not suffer my pockets to be 
 searched— in them is the knot of pink ribbon which 
 you wore on your bosom the first time I saw you 
 surrounded by the children ! Sweet innocents, I 
 see them all in fancy sporting around you—give 
 them a thousand kisses for Werter's sake !— Ah ! 
 Charlotte, at that first moment my soul was attracted 
 to thee— and never since have I been able to repel 
 thy image from my heart ! 
 
 The pistols are loaded! — all is still !— the clock 
 strikes twelve !— -Hark! I am summoned! Char- 
 lotte, my mind is firm !— Beloved, farewell!" 
 
 One of the neighbours saw the flash, and heard 
 the report of the pistol ; but, as it excited no farther 
 alarm, he passed it unnoticed. At six in tbe morn- 
 ing, the servant, punctual to the hour appointed by 
 his master, went into his room with a candle, and 
 found him extended on the floor, and weltering in 
 his blood; he raised him up, and spoke to him, but 
 received no answer. Imagining he was not wholly 
 dead, he ran to fetch a surgeon, and then went to 
 Albert's.— Charlotte, on hearing the gate-bell ring, 
 was seized with an ominous trepidation ; and when 
 the servant related the event, she fell senseless on 
 the floor at her husband's feet. Albert immediately 
 
SORROWS OF WERTER. 
 
 136 
 
 hurried on his clothes, and flew to the fatal room ; 
 but, by the time he had arrived, the unfortunate 
 youth was no more !— The surgeon, previous to his 
 coming, had found a faint motion in the pulse, and 
 had opened a vein ; but all was ineffectual. The 
 ball entered the temple, just above the eye, and 
 pierced upwards through the brain. The blood 
 which surrounded his chair makes it probable that 
 he committed the fatal act as he sat at his writing- 
 desk, and fell thence on the floor. He was dressed 
 in a blue frock and buff waistcoat, and was booted. 
 He had drank only one glass of wine, and on Iiis 
 bureau Emilia Galotti was lying open. 
 
 To depict the distress of Albert and Charlotte 
 would be impossible. It may be better conceived 
 than described ! 
 
 . The old steward, on hearing of the event, hasten- 
 ed to the house, and wept over the body of his la- 
 mented friend. The children paid their tribute of 
 sincere and affectionate sorrow. At night the fune- 
 ral was conducted with silent solemnity, without 
 perade, to the spot which Werter had himself 
 chosen ; no priest attended. The body was followed 
 by the steward and his sons, who hallowed the 
 memory of this esteemed man with unaffected sighs 
 and tears. 
 
 FINIS. 
 
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