For a week past we have had the most wretched weather: but this
to me is a blessing; for, during my residence here, not a single
fine day has beamed from the heavens, but has been lost to me by
the intrusion of somebody. During the severity of rain, sleet,
frost, and storm, I congratulate myself that it cannot be worse
indoors than abroad, nor worse abroad than it is within doors; and
so I become reconciled. When the sun rises bright in the morning,
and promises a glorious day, I never omit to exclaim, "There, now,
they have another blessing from Heaven, which they will be sure
to destroy: they spoil everything, -- health, fame, happiness,
amusement; and they do this generally through folly, ignorance,
or imbecility, and always, according to their own account, with
the best intentions!" I could often beseech them, on my bended
knees, to be less resolved upon their own destruction.
FEBRUARY 17.
I fear that my ambassador and I shall not continue much longer
together. He is really growing past endurance. He transacts
his business in so ridiculous a manner, that I am often compelled
to contradict him, and do things my own way; and then, of course,
he thinks them very ill done. He complained of me lately on this
account at court; and the minister gave me a reprimand, -- a
gentle one it is true, but still a reprimand. In consequence of
this, I was about to tender my resignation, when I received a
letter, to which I submitted with great respect, on account of the
high, noble, and generous spirit which dictated it. He endeavoured
to soothe my excessive sensibility, paid a tribute to my extreme
ideas of duty, of good example, and of perseverance in business,
as the fruit of my youthful ardour, an impulse which he did not
seek to destroy, but only to moderate, that it might have proper
play and be productive of good. So now I am at rest for another
week, and no longer at variance with myself. Content and peace
of mind are valuable things: I could wish, my dear friend, that
these precious jewels were less transitory.
FERRUARY 20.
God bless you, my dear friends, and may he grant you that happiness
which he denies to me!
I thank you, Albert, for having deceived me. I waited for the
news that your wedding-day was fixed; and I intended on that day,
with solemnity, to take down Charlotte's profile from the wall,
and to bury it with some other papers I possess. You are now
united, and her picture still remains here. Well, let it remain!
Why should it not? I know that I am still one of your society,
that I still occupy a place uninjured in Charlotte's heart, that
I hold the second place therein; and I intend to keep it. Oh, I
should become mad if she could forget! Albert, that thought is
hell! Farewell, Albert farewell, angel of heaven farewell, Charlotte!
MARCH 15.
I have just had a sad adventure, which will drive me away from
here. I lose all patience! -- Death! -- It is not to be remedied;
and you alone are to blame, for you urged and impelled me to fill
a post for which I was by no means suited. I have now reason to
be satisfied, and so have you! But, that you may not again attribute
this fatality to my impetuous temper, I send you, my dear sir, a
plain and simple narration of the affair, as a mere chronicler of
facts would describe it.
The Count of O-- likes and distinguishes me. It is well known,
and I have mentioned this to you a hundred times. Yesterday I
dined with him. It is the day on which the nobility are accustomed
to assemble at his house in the evening. I never once thought of
the assembly, nor that we subalterns did not belong to such society.
Well, I dined with the count; and, after dinner, we adjourned to
the large hall. We walked up and down together: and I conversed
with him, and with Colonel B--, who joined us; and in this manner
the hour for the assembly approached. God knows, I was thinking
of nothing, when who should enter but the honourable Lady accompanied
by her noble husband and their silly, scheming daughter, with her
small waist and flat neck; and, with disdainful looks and a haughty
air they passed me by. As I heartily detest the whole race, I
determined upon going away; and only waited till the count had
disengaged himself from their impertinent prattle, to take leave,
when the agreeable Miss B-- came in. As I never meet her without
experiencing a heartfelt pleasure, I stayed and talked to her,
leaning over the back of her chair, and did not perceive, till
after some time, that she seemed a little confused, and ceased to
answer me with her usual ease of manner. I was struck with it.
"Heavens!" I said to myself, "can she, too, be like the rest?" I
felt annoyed, and was about to withdraw; but I remained,
notwithstanding, forming excuses for her conduct, fancying she did
not mean it, and still hoping to receive some friendly recognition.
The rest of the company now arrived. There was the Baron F --, in
an entire suit that dated from the coronation of Francis I.; the
Chancellor N--, with his deaf wife; the shabbily-dressed I--, whose
old-fashioned coat bore evidence of modern repairs: this crowned
the whole. I conversed with some of my acquaintances, but they
answered me laconically. I was engaged in observing Miss B--, and
did not notice that the women were whispering at the end of the
room, that the murmur extended by degrees to the men, that Madame
S-- addressed the count with much warmth (this was all related to
me subsequently by Miss B--); till at length the count came up to
me, and took me to the window. "You know our ridiculous customs,"
he said. "I perceive the company is rather displeased at your
being here. I would not on any account--" "I beg your excellency's
pardon!" I exclaimed. "I ought to have thought of this before,
but I know you will forgive this little inattention. I was going,"
I added, "some time ago, but my evil genius detained me." And I
smiled and bowed, to take my leave. He shook me by the hand, in
a manner which expressed everything. I hastened at once from the
illustrious assembly, sprang into a carriage, and drove to M--.
I contemplated the setting sun from the top of the hill, and read
that beautiful passage in Homer, where Ulysses is entertained by
the hospitable herdsmen. This was indeed delightful.
I returned home to supper in the evening. But few persons were
assembled in the room. They had turned up a corner of the table-cloth,
and were playing at dice. The good-natured A-- came in. He laid
down his hat when he saw me, approached me, and said in a low tone,
"You have met with a disagreeable adventure." "I!" I exclaimed.
"The count obliged you to withdraw from the assembly!" "Deuce
take the assembly!" said I. "I was very glad to be gone." "I am
delighted," he added, "that you take it so lightly. I am only
sorry that it is already so much spoken of." The circumstance
then began to pain me. I fancied that every one who sat down, and
even looked at me, was thinking of this incident; and my heart
became embittered.
And now I could plunge a dagger into my bosom, when I hear myself
everywhere pitied, and observe the triumph of my enemies, who say
that this is always the case with vain persons, whose heads are
turned with conceit, who affect to despise forms and such petty,
idle nonsense.
Say what you will of fortitude, but show me the man who can patiently
endure the laughter of fools, when they have obtained an advantage
over him. 'Tis only when their nonsense is without foundation
that one can suffer it without complaint.
March 16.
Everything conspires against me. I met Miss B-- walking to-day.
I could not help joining her; and, when we were at a little distance
from her companions, I expressed my sense of her altered manner
toward me. "O Werther!" she said, in a tone of emotion, "you, who
know my heart, how could you so ill interpret my distress? What
did I not suffer for you, from the moment you entered the room!
I foresaw it all, a hundred times was I on the point of mentioning
it to you. I knew that the S--s and T--s, with their husbands,
would quit the room, rather than remain in your company. I knew
that the count would not break with them: and now so much is said
about it." "How!" I exclaimed, and endeavoured to conceal my
emotion; for all that Adelin had mentioned to me yesterday recurred
to me painfully at that moment. "Oh, how much it has already cost
me!" said this amiable girl, while her eyes filled with tears. I
could scarcely contain myself, and was ready to throw myself at
her feet. "Explain yourself!" I cried. Tears flowed down her
cheeks. I became quite frantic. She wiped them away, without
attempting to conceal them. "You know my aunt," she continued;
"she was present: and in what light does she consider the affair!
Last night, and this morning, Werther, I was compelled to listen
to a lecture upon my, acquaintance with you. I have been obliged
to hear you condemned and depreciated; and I could not -- I dared
not -- say much in your defence."
Every word she uttered was a dagger to my heart. She did not feel
what a mercy it would have been to conceal everything from me.
She told me, in addition, all the impertinence that would be further
circulated, and how the malicious would triumph; how they would
rejoice over the punishment of my pride, over my humiliation for
that want of esteem for others with which I had often been reproached.
To hear all this, Wilhelm, uttered by her in a voice of the most
sincere sympathy, awakened all my passions; and I am still in a
state of extreme excitement. I wish I could find a man to jeer
me about this event. I would sacrifice him to my resentment. The
sight of his blood might possibly be a relief to my fury. A hundred
times have I seized a dagger, to give ease to this oppressed heart.
Naturalists tell of a noble race of horses that instinctively open
a vein with their teeth, when heated and exhausted by a long course,
in order to breathe more freely. I am often tempted to open a
vein, to procure for myself everlasting liberty.
MARCH 24.
I have tendered my resignation to the court. I hope it will be
accepted, and you will forgive me for not having previously consulted
you. It is necessary I should leave this place. I know all you
will urge me to stay, and therefore I beg you will soften this
news to my mother. I am unable to do anything for myself: how,
then, should I be competent to assist others? It will afflict her
that I should have interrupted that career which would have made
me first a privy councillor, and then minister, and that I should
look behind me, in place of advancing. Argue as you will, combine
all the reasons which should have induced me to remain, I am going:
that is sufficient. But, that you may not be ignorant of my
destination, I may mention that the Prince of -- is here. He is
much pleased with my company; and, having heard of my intention
to resign, he has invited me to his country house, to pass the
spring months with him. I shall be left completely my own master;
and, as we agree on all subjects but one, I shall try my fortune,
and accompany him.
APRIL l9.
Thanks for both your letters. I delayed my reply, and withheld
this letter, till I should obtain an answer from the court. I
feared my mother might apply to the minister to defeat my purpose.
But my request is granted, my resignation is accepted. I shall
not recount with what reluctance it was accorded, nor relate what
the minister has written: you would only renew your lamentations.
The crown prince has sent me a present of five and twenty ducats;
and, indeed, such goodness has affected me to tears. For this
reason I shall not require from my mother the money for which I
lately applied.
MAY 5.
I leave this place to-morrow; and, as my native place is only six
miles from the high road, I intend to visit it once more, and
recall the happy dreams of my childhood. I shall enter at the
same gate through which I came with my mother, when, after my
father's death, she left that delightful retreat to immure herself
in your melancholy town. Adieu, my dear friend: you shall hear of
my future career.
MAY 9.
I have paid my visit to my native place with all the devotion of
a pilgrim, and have experienced many unexpected emotions. Near
the great elm tree, which is a quarter of a league from the village,
I got out of the carriage, and sent it on before, that alone, and
on foot, I might enjoy vividly and heartily all the pleasure of
my recollections. I stood there under that same elm which was
formerly the term and object of my walks. How things have since
changed! Then, in happy ignorance, I sighed for a world I did not
know, where I hoped to find every pleasure and enjoyment which my
heart could desire; and now, on my return from that wide world, O
my friend, how many disappointed hopes and unsuccessful plans have
I brought back!
As I contemplated the mountains which lay stretched out before me,
I thought how often they had been the object of my dearest desires.
Here used I to sit for hours together with my eyes bent upon them,
ardently longing to wander in the shade of those woods, to lose
myself in those valleys, which form so delightful an object in the
distance. With what reluctance did I leave this charming spot;
when my hour of recreation was over, and my leave of absence
expired! I drew near to the village: all the well-known old
summerhouses and gardens were recognised again; I disliked the new
ones, and all other alterations which had taken place. I entered
the village, and all my former feelings returned. I cannot, my
dear friend, enter into details, charming as were my sensations:
they would be dull in the narration. I had intended to lodge in
the market-place, near our old house. As soon as I entered, I
perceived that the schoolroom, where our childhood had been taught
by that good old woman, was converted into a shop. I called to
mind the sorrow, the heaviness, the tears, and oppression of heart,
which I experienced in that confinement. Every step produced some
particular impression. A pilgrim in the Holy Land does not meet
so many spots pregnant with tender recollections, and his soul is
hardly moved with greater devotion. One incident will serve for
illustration. I followed the course of a stream to a farm, formerly
a delightful walk of mine, and paused at the spot, where, when
boys, we used to amuse ourselves making ducks and drakes upon the
water. I recollected so well how I used formerly to watch the
course of that same stream, following it with inquiring eagerness,
forming romantic ideas of the countries it was to pass through;
but my imagination was soon exhausted: while the water continued
flowing farther and farther on, till my fancy became bewildered
by the contemplation of an invisible distance. Exactly such, my
dear friend, so happy and so confined, were the thoughts of our
good ancestors. Their feelings and their poetry were fresh as
childhood. And, when Ulysses talks of the immeasurable sea and
boundless earth, his epithets are true, natural, deeply felt, and
mysterious. Of what importance is it that I have learned, with
every schoolboy, that the world is round? Man needs but little
earth for enjoyment, and still less for his final repose.
I am at present with the prince at his hunting lodge. He is a man
with whom one can live happily. He is honest and unaffected. There
are, however, some strange characters about him, whom I cannot at
all understand. They do not seem vicious, and yet they do not
carry the appearance of thoroughly honest men. Sometimes I am
disposed to believe them honest, and yet I cannot persuade myself
to confide in them. It grieves me to hear the prince occasionally
talk of things which he has only read or heard of, and always with
the same view in which they have been represented by others.
He values my understanding and talents more highly than my heart,
but I am proud of the latter only. It is the sole source of
everything of our strength, happiness, and misery. All the knowledge
I possess every one else can acquire, but my heart is exclusively
my own.
MAY 25.
I have had a plan in my head of which I did not intend to speak
to you until it was accomplished: now that it has failed, I may
as well mention it. I wished to enter the army, and had long been
desirous of taking the step. This, indeed, was the chief reason
for my coming here with the prince, as he is a general in the
service. I communicated my design to him during one of our walks
together. He disapproved of it, and it would have been actual
madness not to have listened to his reasons.
JUNE 11.
Say what you will, I can remain here no longer. Why should I
remain? Time hangs heavy upon my hands. The prince is as gracious
to me as any one could be, and yet I am not at my ease. There is,
indeed, nothing in common between us. He is a man of understanding,
but quite of the ordinary kind. His conversation affords me no
more amusement than I should derive from the perusal of a well-written
book. I shall remain here a week Ionger, and then start again on
my travels. My drawings are the best things I have done since I
came here. The prince has a taste for the arts, and would improve
if his mind were not fettered by cold rules and mere technical
ideas. I often lose patience, when, with a glowing imagination,
I am giving expression to art and nature, he interferes with learned
suggestions, and uses at random the technical phraseology of artists.
JULY 16.
Once more I am a wanderer, a pilgrim, through the world. But what
else are you!
JULY 18.
Whither am I going? I will tell you in confidence. I am obliged
to continue a fortnight longer here, and then I think it would be
better for me to visit the mines in --. But I am only deluding
myself thus. The fact is, I wish to be near Charlotte again, that
is all. I smile at the suggestions of my heart, and obey its
dictates.
JULY 29.
No, no! it is yet well all is well! I her husband! O God, who
gave me being, if thou hadst destined this happiness for me, my
whole life would have been one continual thanksgiving! But I will
not murmur -- forgive these tears, forgive these fruitless wishes.
She -- my wife! Oh, the very thought of folding that dearest of
Heaven's creatures in my arms! Dear Wilhelm, my whole frame feels
convulsed when I see Albert put his arms around her slender waist!
And shall I avow it? Why should I not, Wilhelm? She would have
been happier with me than with him. Albert is not the man to
satisfy the wishes of such a heart. He wants a certain sensibility;
he wants -- in short, their hearts do not beat in unison. How
often, my dear friend, im reading a passage from some interesting
book, when my heart and Charlotte's seemed to meet, and in a hundred
other instances when our sentiments were unfolded by the story of
some fictitious character, have I felt that we were made for each
other! But, dear Wilhelm, he loves her with his whole soul; and
what does not such a love deserve?
I have been interrupted by an insufferable visit. I have dried
my tears, and composed my thoughts. Adieu, my best friend!
AUGUST 4.
I am not alone unfortunate. All men are disappointed in their
hopes, and deceived in their expectations. I have paid a visit
to my good old woman under the lime-trees. The eldest boy ran
out to meet me: his exclamation of joy brought out his mother,
but she had a very melancholy look. Her first word was, "Alas!
dear sir, my little John is dead." He was the youngest of her
children. I was silent. "And my husband has returned from
Switzerland without any money; and, if some kind people had not
assisted him, he must have begged his way home. He was taken ill
with fever on his journey." I could answer nothing, but made the
little one a present. She invited me to take some fruit: I complied,
and left the place with a sorrowful heart.
AUGUST 21.
My sensations are constantly changing. Sometimes a happy prospect
opens before me; but alas! it is only for a moment; and then, when
I am lost in reverie, I cannot help saying to myself, "If Albert
were to die? -- Yes, she would become -- and I should be" -- and
so I pursue a chimera, till it leads me to the edge of a precipice
at which I shudder.
When I pass through the same gate, and walk along the same road
which first conducted me to Charlotte, my heart sinks within me
at the change that has since taken place. All, all, is altered!
No sentiment, no pulsation of my heart, is the same. My sensations
are such as would occur to some departed prince whose spirit should
return to visit the superb palace which he had built in happy times,
adorned with costly magnificence, and left to a beloved son, but
whose glory he should find departed, and its halls deserted and
in ruins.