<p>MARCH 15.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>March 16.</p>
<p>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."</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>MARCH 24.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>APRIL 19.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>MAY 5.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>MAY 9.</p>
<p>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!</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>MAY 25.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>JUNE 11.</p>
<p>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 longer, 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.</p>
<p>JULY 16.</p>
<p>Once more I am a wanderer, a pilgrim, through the world. But what else are
you!</p>
<p>JULY 18.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>JULY 29.</p>
<p>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!</p>
<p>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, I'm 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?</p>
<p>I have been interrupted by an insufferable visit. I have dried my tears,
and composed my thoughts. Adieu, my best friend!</p>
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