The Sorrows of Young Werther BOOK TWO, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

• 20 October
• Patience! Patience! All will improve. And I tell you, my dear fellow, you were right. I feel far better within myself now that I am among these people, kept busy day in, day out, watching their doings and goings-on.
• It is true that, since we are so constituted as to be forever comparing ourselves with others and our surroundings with ourselves, our happiness or misery depends on the things in our environment; and, this being so, nothing is more dangerous than solitude.
• 26 November
• I have struck up an acquaintance with Count C., whom I esteem more highly every day, a man of great learning and mature judgment but by no means cold, thanks to his broad understanding; in his company I feel that he is very sensitive to friendship and love.
• 24 December
• The count, I said, was a man deserving of respect, for his character and for his knowledge. 'I have never met anyone,' I said, ' who has succeeded so well in broadening the horizons of his spirit, and extending his knowledge in countless areas, and still turning his hand to the affairs of everyday life.'
• And it is all your fault, for talking me into this yoke and singing the praises of a busy life!
• I am, however, growing daily more aware how foolish it is to judge others by one's own standards, dear friend. And since I give myself enough trouble as it is, and this heart of mine is so turbulent--ah, I am glad to let others go their own ways. If only they would allow me to do the same.
• The old lady's physiognomy was off-putting. I paid a great deal of attention to her and addressed most of my conversation to her, and in less than half an hour I could see for myself what the young lady afterwards admitted to me herself: that her dear aunt has been left lacking everything in her old age, and has no presentable fortune or wits, no source of strength other than her pedigree, no protection but the sense of class in which she has barricaded herself, and no pleasure apart from looking down on middle-class citizens from the heights of an upper-story window.
• 8 January 1772
• What fools they are not to see that the position one occupies is in reality immaterial, and that he who is in the topmost position so rarely plays the most important role!
• 20 January
• I have been on my best behaviour for some time, since there is no alternative, and am very witty, and the ladies say no one praises them as nicely as I do (nor tells such lies, one should add, if you understand what I mean).
• She is longing to put this brouhaha behind her, and we spend many an hour imagining country scenes of unadulterated bliss; and then, ah! we speak of you!
• 8 February
• When the sun rises in the morning and heralds a fine day, I can never resist exclaiming: there they have another gift of the gods which they can ruin for each other!
• At times I could go down on my knees and beg them not to do such reckless damage to their own hearts.
• 17 February
• I fear that my ambassador and I will not be able to endure each other much longer. That man is totally intolerable.
• Tranquility of the soul is wonderful, as is joyful peace of mind. If only, dear friend, these precious treasures, beautiful and priceless as they are, were not so fragile too.
• 20 February
• God bless you, my dear friends, and may He grant you all those happy hours He takes from me!
• I am grateful to you, Albert, for deceiving me: I was waiting for news of your wedding date, and had decided to take down Lotte's silhouette profile from my wall on that day, with all solemnity, and bury it amidst my other papers.
• 15 March
• There is nothing I can do about it, and all of you are to blame who urged and goaded and tormented me to take a position I have no taste for. Now I have what was coming to me! and so do you!
• My heart always feels freer the moment I see her, so I stayed, stationed myself behind her chair, and did not notice until some time had passed that she was speaking less openly than normally and with a certain embarrassment. It was striking. Can she too be like the rest of them?
• 'You know how absurd things are,' he said. 'I gather that the company takes exception to your presence here. I should not wish on any account--' 'Your Excellency,' I interrupted, 'I beg a thousand pardons; I should have thought of it sooner, but I trust you will forgive the oversight; I had intended to take my leave some time ago, but my wicked demon prevented me,' I added, smiling and bowing.
• I made my inconspicuous disappearance from the illustrious assembly and left, took a two-wheeler, and drove out to M. to stand on the hill and watch the sun set and read that magnificent book in Homer where Oddyseus enjoys the hospitality of the excellent swineherd.
• 'You have had a trying experience I gather?'--'Me?' said I.--'The count turned you out of the assembly.'--'The devil take them!' said I; 'I was glad to be out in the fresh air.'--'So much the better,' said he, 'that you can take it so lightly. I confess it distresses me; it is already all over town.'
• So today I am offered sympathy wherever I go, and I hear that those who envy me are triumphantly saying that there you have it, that is what becomes of cocky people who are arrogant on account of their bit of brain and imagine they can disregard conventional form, and whatever other rubbish they blether--and I could plunge a knife into my heart.
• 16 March
• 'You know my aunt,' she began; 'she was present and oh! what a light she sees it in! Dear Werther, last night and this morning I had to endure a sermon concerning my acquaintance with you, and I have been obliged to hear you condemned and disparaged, and I was neither able nor permitted to say much in your defence.'
• Every word she said was like a dagger in my heart. She did not sense what a mercy it would have been to keep all of it from me, and she went on to predict the gossip that was still to come, and described the person that would relish the triumph, and how they would be tickled by the comeuppance my arrogance, and the deprecatory view of others which I have long been accused of, had brought me, and how they would rejoice.
• I wish someone would have the courage to mock me to my face, so that I might thrust my sword through his body; the sight of blood might afford me some relief.
• I often feel the same, and am tempted to open a vein and so find eternal freedom.
• 24 March
• I have tendered my resignation to the court, and hope it will be accepted
• I am to be left entirely to my own devices, he promises, and, since we see eye to eye on all matters barring one, I intended to trust to fortune and go with him.
• 19 April
• Thank you for your two letters. I did not reply because I was leaving this letter open until the court accepted my resignation
• The crown prince has sent me a parting present of twenty-five ducats, with a note that moved me to tears; so I shall not be needing the money I recently asked my mother for.
• 5 May
Adieu, Wilhelm; you will be hearing about my expedition.
• 9 May
• I am sorry to hear the prince often speaking of things he has merely heard tell of, or read about; when he does so, he adopts the point of view of the one who presented the matter to him.
• I am also disturbed to find he values my mind and abilities more highly than my heart, which is my only source of pride, and indeed of everything, all my strength and happiness and misery. The things I know, anyone can know--but my heart is mine and mine alone.
• 25 May
• I had a plan I was meaning to tell you nothing about until I had carried it out: now that it has fallen through I may as well mention it. I was going to become a soldier; it has been my heart's desire for a long time.
• 11 June
• He is a man of intellect, but his intellect is of a very ordinary quality; I take no greater pleasure in his company than in reading a well-written book. I shall remain another week and then start on my wanderings once more.
• 16 June
• Indeed, I am nothing but a wanderer and a pilgrim on this earth! And what more are you?
• 18 June
• I only want to be near to Lotte again, that is all. And I laugh at this heart of mine--and do as it dictates.
• 29 July
• And--dare I say it? Why not, dear Wilhelm? She would have been happier with me than with him! Oh, he is not the man to satisfy all the wishes of her heart.
• 4 August
• I am not the only unfortunate. All men are disappointed in their hopes and cheated out of their expectations.
• 21 August
• When I am lost in my daydreams I cannot help wondering: what if Albert were to die?--You would!--yes, and she would--and then I fantasize till I am at the brink of the abyss, and I flinch back with a shudder.
• 3 September
• At times I cannot grasp that she love another man, that she dare love another man, when I love her and her alone with such passion and devotion, and neither know nor have anything but her!
• 4 September
• At first the man answered my questions with a quiet sadness which seemed to indicate a reticent disposition; but, as if he had recognized both me and himself once again, he quickly made more open confession of his errors, and lamented his misfortune.
• She would not listen to his entreaties, so he tried to take her by force.
• She fended him off;
• I gather she now has a new servant, who is likewise a bone of contention between her and her brother; and the lad tells me people say she is sure to marry him; but he is determined not to see it happen.
• What I have been telling you is not exaggerated or in any way embroidered, and indeed I might say I have told it feebly, feebly, and have dragged it down by using the prim and proper society always uses.
• Read it, my beloved friend, and bear in mind that it is also the tale of your humble servant. Yes, that is how things have been with me, and how they will be, and I am not half as worthy or resolute as this poor unfortunate, with whom I scarcely dare compare myself.
• 5 September
• 'My dearest love, come home as soon as you can. I am filled with joy at the thought of your return.'
• 'What a divine gift imagination is,' I exclaimed; 'for one moment I tricked myself into thinking it was addressed to me.'--She broke off what she was doing and looked displeased, and I was silent.
• 6 September
• Still, I have had a new one made, exactly like the other, down to the collar and lapels, and the very same buff waistcoat and breeches as well.
• 12 September
• I averted my gaze. She ought not to do it, ought not to excite my imagination with these scenes of divine innocence and bliss, or awaken my heart from that sleep which the indifference of life lulls it to!--And why not?--She has such trust in me! and knows how much I love her!
• 15 September
• You remember the walnut trees under which I sat with he worthy vicar of S. and Lotte, those magnificent walnut trees which, as God as my witness, always filled my soul with the greatest joy!
• I assure you, Wilhelm, that yesterday, when our talk turned to them, there were tears in the schoolmaster's eyes when he told me they had been cut down. Cut down!
• She is a fool who affects to be learned, occupies herself with studying the canonical books of the Bible, works hard on today's new-fangled moral and critical reformation of Christianity and shrugs off Lavater's rhapsodic effusions; her health is quite ruined, and so she takes no delight in God's earth. Only a creature such as this could have been capable of cutting down my walnut trees.
• 10 October
• And what distresses me, Wilhelm, is that Albert does not seem as happy as--he hoped--or as I--should have expected to be--if--I do not care for all these dashes, but there is no other way I can express this--and I imagine this is clear enough.
• 12 October
• --Oh, my friend! I wish that I might draw my sword, like some noble warrior, and deliver my prince from the painful torments of a long drawn-out death, and send me soul to go with the demi-god I had set free.
• 19 October
• --I often think that if only I could hold her to my heart for once, just once, that void would be entirely filled.
• 26 October
• Yes indeed, I am certain, my dear fellow, and grow more certain all the time, that the existence of any single creature is of little, very little importance.
• Your friends value you! You often make them happy, and your heart in turn feels it could not do without them; and yet--if you were to go, if you were to depart from this intimate circle, would they feel the void, how long would they feel the void that your loss tore open in their fate?--how long?--Oh, Man is so transient a being that even where his existence is most secure, even where his presence makes it sole true impressions felt, he must fade and disappear from the memories and souls of his loved ones, soon, oh so soon!
• 27 October
• I could often tear my heart open and beat my poor head on seeing how little people can mean to each other.
• The same evening
• I have so much, and my feelings for her absorb it all; I have so much, and without her it is nothing at all.
• 30 October
• Dear God in heaven knows how it feels to behold so much loveliness before one and not be allowed to embrace it; and, after all, that embrace is the most natural of Man's instincts.
• 3 November
• Am I not still the very same man who once walked in an excess of happiness, paradise before him at every step, with a heart that could embrace the whole world in the fullness of love? And now that heart is dead and no longer gives me joy, my eyes are dry, and my senses are not refreshed by heartfelt tears any more but furrow my brow with fearful worries.
• I have often prostrated myself on the ground and prayed to God for tears, like a farmer praying for rain when the heaven over his head is brass and the earth is parched.
• 8 November
• She has reproached me for my excesses!--though in the most amiable of ways.
• My friend, I am lost! She can do with me whatever she pleases.
• 15 November
• What is the Fate of Man, but to suffer his appointed due and drink the cup of bitterness?--and if the Son of Man prayed that the cup passes from him, why should I show off and pretend it tastes not bitter but sweet?
• At such a time, it is not the voice of a creature utterly beset, with no inner resources left, and plunging to inexorable destruction, that groans in the inmost depths of its insufficient power: 'My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?'
• 21 November
• She does not see or feel that she is concocting a poison that will be my destruction and her own; and in ecstasy I drain the goblet that she offers me and which spells my downfall.
• 22 November
• I play witty games with my own pain; and, if I indulged myself in the sport, could compose an entire litany of antitheses.
• 24 November
• She senses what I am enduring. Today her gaze pierced my very heart.
• --I resisted no longer, bent forward, and vowed: Never shall I dare implant a kiss on these lips where the spirits of heaven dwell.--And yet--I want to--Ha! You see, it is like a barrier my soul has come up against--such bliss--and then doomed to expiate the sin. Sin?
• 26 November
• I have so much to endure! Ah, have ever men before me been so miserable?
• 30 November
• From a distance I made out a fellow in a worn, green coat scrabbling about the rocks, apparently looking for herbs. As I came nearer he turned at the sound of my approach, and I beheld a most interesting physiognomy, features dominated by silent sadness but otherwise expressive of a good and honest nature; he had pinned up his hair in two ringlets, and the rest was plaited into a thick tail which hung down his back.
• 'Is he your son?' I asked, stepping up.--'Yes, indeed, my poor son!' she responded. 'God has given me a terrible cross to bear.'
• Dear God in heaven, was this the Fate Thou hast ordained for Man: the he should only be happy before he has yet attained his reason, or after he has lost it again?--Miserable wretch! and yet I envy your melancholy, and the confusion of your senses that has laid you waste! Hopefully you go forth--in winter--to pick flowers for your queen, and are sad when you cannot find any, and cannot understand why there are none. And I--I go out with no hope or purpose at all, and return home as I departed.
• What man, what father, could be wrathful if his son returned home unexpectedly, fell at his breast and cried: 'I am here again, dear father! Do not be angry with me for breaking off my travels, which you wished me to persevere in longer. It is everywhere the same in this world, toil and labour, joys and rewards; what of it? I am only contented in your presence, and I shall suffer or enjoy here before you.'
• 1 December
• Wilhelm! The man I wrote to you of, that happy unfortunate, was a clerk in Lotte's father's employ, and what drove him mad was a passion for her, which he nurtured, kept secret, then revealed to her, and which cost him his possession.
• 4 December
• I beg you--It is all over with me, Wilhelm, I cannot stand it any longer!
• --'For God's sake,' I said fiercely, stepping towards her, 'stop it, for God's sake!"--She stopped playing, and stared at me. 'Werther,' she said, with a smile that pierced my soul, 'you are ill, Werther, very ill: you cannot stomach your favourite dishes. Go, I implore you, and calm down.'
• Thou seest my misery and wilt make an end of it.
• 6 December
• How her figure haunts me!
• The second I close my eyes I see hers before me, deep as an ocean or an abyss, and they are within me, filling the senses of my mind.
• The Editor to the Reader
• I wish very much that we had enough of our friend's own testimony, concerning the last remarkable days of his life, to render it unnecessary for me to interrupt this series of preserved letters with narration.
• 'You wretched man, what have you done!' cried Werther, advancing on the prisoner.--The captive gazed at him calmly, remained silent, and then at length, with utter composure, replied: 'No one will have her, and she will have no one.'
• He felt him to be so unhappy, even as a criminal he considered him so blameless, and he was so able to see things through the man's eyes, that he felt sure he could persuade others to view the matter the same way.
• During the walk, she looked about her at points, for all the world as if she missed Werther's company. Albert began to speak of him, and, remaining scrupulously fair, censured Werther. He touched upon his unhappy passion, and wished it were possible to be rid of him.--'I wish it for our own sakes, too,' he said, and continued: 'and I'd ask you to see that he behaves rather differently towards you, and cuts down on these frequent visits. People are starting to notice, and I know that here and there it is talked about.'--Lotte was silent, and Albert seemed to feel her silence; at all events, from that time he no longer made any mention of Werther to her, and if she did so he either dropped the conversation or changed the subject.
• His confusion, his passion, his restless energies and endeavors, and his weariness of life, are most powerfully attested in a few surviving letters which we interpolate at this point.
• 12 December
• It was after eleven, and I ran out into the night. It was a fearful spectacle: the raging torrents were crashing down from the crags in moonlight, flooding the fields and meadows and hedges, and the broad valley, upstream and down, was a turbulent lake whipped by a roaring wind!
• But oh!--I could not move an inch from where I stood, I could not put an end to my torment!
• 14 December
• And these dreams!
• I tremble to tell you, but last night! last night I held her in my arms, pressed her to my breast, and covered her lips with countless kisses while she murmured of her love; and my eyes misted to see the rapture in hers! Dear God! is it a sin to feel that happiness even now, and to recall those ardent pleasures with the greatest of joy?
• At length he had grown familiar and acquainted with the melancholy thought, and his resolve was firm and irreversible, as is proved by the following ambiguous letter to his friend.
• 20 December
• I welcome your plan to come and collect me; but perhaps you would delay for another fortnight, and wait for another letter from me, with further details. One ought not to pick the fruit before it is ripe.
• It seems it has been my fate to sadden those I should have made happy. Farewell, my dearest friend! May heaven send you every blessing! Farewell!
• Returning to the Narrator
• 'Can there really not be another girl in the whole wide world to satisfy the longings of your heart? Take a grip on yourself, and go in search of her, and I swear you will find her; I have for some time been worried, on your account and ours, by the narrow confinement you have imposed on yourself of late. Be firm with yourself. Go on your travels: it will and must take your mind off things. Seek someone who is worthy of your love, find her, and then return, and we shall enjoy the happiness of true friendship together.'
• On the morning of Monday, 21 December, he wrote the following letter to Lotte, which was found sealed on his desk after his death and given to her; I shall quote it here one fragment at a time, since the circumstances suggest that is how he wrote it.
• The decision is taken, Lotte, I am resolved to die, and I am writing the words to you without any romantic hysteria but calmly, on the morning of the day I shall see you for the last time.
• Oh, my dearest one! this broken heart of mine often harboured furious thoughts of--killing your husband!--or you!--or myself!--So be it!
• --I was composed when I began writing, but now, now I see it all too vividly, and I am crying like a child.--
• Oh, Lotte! it must be today or never again. On Christmas Eve you will hold this page in your hand, and shed your tears on it. I will, I must! Oh, how good it feels to be so determined.
• --He smiled, fetched the songs, shuddered as he picked them up, and his eyes filled with tears as he opened the manuscript. He sat down and read.