the sorrows of young werther(少年维特的烦恼)-第9章

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as　fully　contented　with　me　as　with　Charlotte；　and　I　told　them　my
very　best　tale　of　the　princess　who　was　waited　upon　by　dwarfs。
I　improve　myself　by　this　exercise；　and　am　quite　surprised　at　the
impression　my　stories　create。　　If　I　sometimes　invent　an　incident
which　I　forget　upon　the　next　narration；　they　remind　one　directly
that　the　story　was　different　before；　so　that　I　now　endeavour　to
relate　with　exactness　the　same　anecdote　in　the　same　monotonous
tone；　which　never　changes。　　I　find　by　this；　how　much　an　author
injures　his　works　by　altering　them；　even　though　they　be　improved
in　a　poetical　point　of　view。　　The　first　impression　is　readily
received。　　We　are　so　constituted　that　we　believe　the　most　incredible
things；　and；　once　they　are　engraved　upon　the　memory；　woe　to　him
who　would　endeavour　to　efface　them。
　　
AUGUST　18。

Must　it　ever　be　thus；　　that　the　source　of　our　happiness　must
also　be　the　fountain　of　our　misery？　　The　full　and　ardent　sentiment
which　animated　my　heart　with　the　love　of　nature；　overwhelming　me
with　a　torrent　of　delight；　and　which　brought　all　paradise　before
me；　has　now　become　an　insupportable　torment；　a　demon　which　perpetually
pursues　and　harasses　me。　　When　in　bygone　days　I　gazed　from　these
rocks　upon　yonder　mountains　across　the　river；　and　upon　the　green；
flowery　valley　before　me；　and　saw　alI　nature　budding　and　bursting
around；　the　hills　clothed　from　foot　to　peak　with　tall；　thick　forest
trees；　the　valleys　in　all　their　varied　windings；　shaded　with　the
loveliest　woods；　and　the　soft　river　gliding　along　amongst　the
lisping　reeds；　mirroring　the　beautiful　clouds　which　the　soft　evening
breeze　wafted　across　the　sky；　　when　I　heard　the　groves　about　me
melodious　with　the　music　of　birds；　and　saw　the　million　swarms　of
insects　dancing　in　the　last　golden　beams　of　the　sun；　whose　setting
rays　awoke　the　humming　beetles　from　their　grassy　beds；　whilst　the
subdued　tumult　around　directed　my　attention　to　the　ground；　and　I
there　observed　the　arid　rock　compelled　to　yield　nutriment　to　the
dry　moss；　whilst　the　heath　flourished　upon　the　barren　sands　below
me；　all　this　displayed　to　me　the　inner　warmth　which　animates　all
nature；　and　filled　and　glowed　within　my　heart。　　I　felt　myself
exalted　by　this　overflowing　fulness　to　the　perception　of　the
Godhead；　and　the　glorious　forms　of　an　infinite　universe　became
visible　to　my　soul！　　Stupendous　mountains　encompassed　me；　abysses
yawned　at　my　feet；　and　cataracts　fell　headlong　down　before　me；
impetuous　rivers　rolled　through　the　plain；　and　rocks　and　mountains
resounded　from　afar。　　In　the　depths　of　the　earth　I　saw　innumerable
powers　in　motion；　and　multiplying　to　infinity；　whilst　upon　its
surface；　and　beneath　the　heavens；　there　teemed　ten　thousand　varieties
of　living　creatures。　　Everything　around　is　alive　with　an　infinite
number　of　forms；　while　mankind　fly　for　security　to　their　petty
houses；　from　the　shelter　of　which　they　rule　in　their　imaginations
over　the　wide…extended　universe。　　Poor　fool！　in　whose　petty
estimation　all　things　are　little。　　From　the　inaccessible　mountains；
across　the　desert　which　no　mortal　foot　has　trod；　far　as　the　confines
of　the　unknown　ocean；　breathes　the　spirit　of　the　eternal　Creator；
and　every　atom　to　which　he　has　given　existence　finds　favour　in　his
sight。　　Ah；　how　often　at　that　time　has　the　flight　of　a　bird；　soaring
above　my　head；　inspired　me　with　the　desire　of　being　transported
to　the　shores　of　the　immeasurable　waters；　there　to　quaff　the
pleasures　of　life　from　the　foaming　goblet　of　the　Infinite；　and　to
partake；　if　but　for　a　moment　even；　with　the　confined　powers　of　my
soul；　the　beatitude　of　that　Creator　who　accomplishes　all　things
in　himself；　and　through　himself！

My　dear　friend；　the　bare　recollection　of　those　hours　still　consoles
me。　　Even　this　effort　to　recall　those　ineffable　sensations；　and
give　them　utterance；　exalts　my　soul　above　itself；　and　makes　me
doubly　feel　the　intensity　of　my　present　anguish。

It　is　as　if　a　curtain　had　been　drawn　from　before　my　eyes；　and；
instead　of　prospects　of　eternal　life；　the　abyss　of　an　ever　open
grave　yawned　before　me。　　Can　we　say　of　anything　that　it　exists
when　all　passes　away；　when　time；　with　the　speed　of　a　storm；　carries
all　things　onward；　　and　our　transitory　existence；　hurried　along
by　the　torrent；　is　either　swallowed　up　by　the　waves　or　dashed
against　the　rocks？　　There　is　not　a　moment　but　preys　upon　you；　
and　upon　all　around　you；　not　a　moment　in　which　you　do　not　yourself
become　a　destroyer。　　The　most　innocent　walk　deprives　of　life
thousands　of　poor　insects：　one　step　destroys　the　fabric　of　the
industrious　ant；　and　converts　a　little　world　into　chaos。　　No：　it
is　not　the　great　and　rare　calamities　of　the　world；　the　floods　which
sweep　away　whole　villages；　the　earthquakes　which　swallow　up　our
towns；　that　affect　me。　　My　heart　is　wasted　by　the　thought　of　that
destructive　power　which　lies　concealed　in　every　part　of　universal
nature。　　Nature　has　formed　nothing　that　does　not　consume　itself；
and　every　object　near　it：　so　that；　surrounded　by　earth　and　air；
and　all　the　active　powers；　I　wander　on　my　way　with　aching　heart；
and　the　universe　is　to　me　a　fearful　monster；　for　ever　devouring
its　own　offspring。
　　
AUGUST　21。

In　vain　do　I　stretch　out　my　arms　toward　her　when　I　awaken　in　the
morning　from　my　weary　slumbers。　　In　vain　do　I　seek　for　her　at　night
in　my　bed；　when　some　innocent　dream　has　happily　deceived　me；　and
placed　her　near　me　in　the　fields；　when　I　have　seized　her　hand　and
covered　it　with　countless　kisses。　　And　when　I　feel　for　her　in　the
half　confusion　of　sleep；　with　the　happy　sense　that　she　is　near；
tears　flow　from　my　oppressed　heart；　and；　bereft　of　all　comfort；　I
weep　over　my　future　woes。

AUGUST　22。

What　a　misfortune；　Wilhelm！　　My　active　spirits　have　degenerated
into　contented　indolence。　　I　cannot　be　idle；　and　yet　I　am　unable
to　set　to　work。　　I　cannot　think：　I　have　no　longer　any　feeling　for
the　beauties　of　nature；　and　books　are　distasteful　to　me。　　Once　we
give　ourselves　up；　we　are　totally　lost。　　Many　a　time　and　oft　I
wish　I　were　a　common　labourer；　that；　awakening　in　the　morning；　I
might　have　but　one　prospect；　one　pursuit；　one　hope；　for　the　day
which　has　dawned。　　I　often　envy　Albert　when　I　see　him　buried　in　a
heap　of　papers　and　parchments；　and　I　fancy　I　should　be　happy　were
I　in　his　place。　　Often　impressed　with　this　feeling　I　have　been　on
the　point　of　writing　to　you　and　to　the　minister；　for　the　appointment
at　the　embassy；　which　you　think　I　might　obtain。　　I　believe　I　might
procure　it。　　The　minister　has　long　shown　a　regard　for　me；　and　has
frequently　urged　me　to　seek　employment。　　It　is　the　business　of　an
hour　only。　　Now　and　then　the　fable　of　the　horse　recurs　to　me。　　
Weary　of　liberty；　he　suffered　himself　to　be　saddled　and　bridled；
and　was　ridden　to　death　for　his　pains。　　I　know　not　what　to　determine
upon。　　For　is　not　this　anxiety　for　change　the　consequence　of　that
restless　spirit　which　would　pursue　me　equally　in　every　situation
of　life？

AUGUST　28。

If　my　ills　would　admit　of　any　cure；　they　would　certainly　be　cured
here。　　This　is　my　birthday；　and　early　in　the　morning　I　received　a
packet　from　Albert。　　Upon　opening　it；　I　found　one　of　the　pink
ribbons　which　Charlotte　wore　in　her　dress　the　first　time　I　saw　her；
and　which　I　had　several　times　asked　her　to　give　me。　　With　it　were
two　volumes　in　duodecimo　of　Wetstein's　〃Homer；〃　a　book　I　had　often
wished　for；　to　save　me　the　inconvenience　of　carrying　the　large
Ernestine　edition　with　me　upon　my　walks。　　You　see　how　they　anticipate
my　wishes；　how　well　they　understand　all　those　little　attentions
of　friendship；　so　superior　to　the　costly　presents　of　the　great；
which　are　humiliating。　　I　kissed　the　ribbon　a　thousand　times；　and
in　every　breath　inhaled　the　remembrance　of　those　happy　and　irrevocable
days　which　filled　me　with　the　keenest　joy。　　Such；　Wilhelm；　is　our
fate。　　I　do　not　murmur　at　it：　the　flowers　of　life　are　but　visionary。　　
How　many　pass　away；　and　leave　no　trace　behind　　how　few　yield　any
fruit　　and　the　fruit　itself；　how　rarely　does　it　ripen！　And　yet
there　are　flowers　enough！　and　is　it　not　strange；　my　friend；　that
we　should　suffer　the　little　that　does　really　ripen；　to　rot；　decay；
and　perish　unenjoyed？　　Farewell！　　This　is　a　glorious　summer。　　I
often　climb　into　the　trees　in　Charlotte's　orchard；　and　shake　down
the　pears　that　hang　on　the　highest　branches。　　She　stands　below；
and　catches　them　as　they　fall。

AUGUST　3O。

Unhappy　being　that　I　am！　　Why　do　I　thus　deceive　myself？　　What　is
to　come　of　all　this　wild；　aimless；　endless　passion？　　I　cannot　pray
except　to　her。　　My　imagination　sees　nothing　but　her：　all　surrounding
objects　are　of　no　account；　except　as　they　relate　to　her。　　In　this
dreamy　state　I　enjoy　many　happy　hours；　till　at　length　I　feel
compelled　to　tear　myself　away　from　her。　　Ah；　Wilhelm；　to　what
does　not　my　heart　often　compel　me！　　When　I　have　spent　several　hours
in　her　company；　till　I　feel　completely　absorbed　by　her　figure；　her
grace；　the　divine　expression　of　her　thoughts；　my　mind　becomes
gradually　excited　to　the　highest　excess；　my　sight　grows　dim；　my
hearing　confused；　my　breathing　oppressed　as　if　by　the　hand　of　a
murderer；　and　my　beating　heart　seeks　to　obtain　relief　for　my　aching
senses。　　I　am　sometimes　unconscious　whether　I　really　exist。　　If
in　such　moments　I　find　no　sympathy；　and　Charlotte　does　not　allow
me　to　enjoy　the　melancholy　consolation　of　bathing　her　hand　with
my　tears；　I　feel　compelled　to　tear　myself　from　her；　when　I　either
wander　through　the　country；　climb　some　precipitous　cliff；　or　force
a　path　through　the　trackless　thicket；　where　I　am　lacerated　and
torn　by　thorns　and　briers；　and　thence　I　find　relief。　　Sometimes　I
lie　stretched　on　the　ground；　overcome　with　fatigue　and　dying　with
thirst；　sometimes；　late　in　the　night；　when　the　moon　shines　above
me；　I　recline　against　an　aged　tree　in　some　sequestered　forest；　to
rest　my　weary　limbs；　when；　exhausted　and　worn；　I　sleep　till　break
of　day。　　O　Wilhelm！　the　hermit's　cell；　his　sackcloth；　and　girdle
of　thorns　would　be　luxury　and　indulgence　compared　with　what　I　suffer。
Adieu！　　I　see　no　end　to　this　wretchedness　except　the　grave。

SEPTEMBER　3。

I　must　away。　　Thank　you；　Wilhelm；　for　determining　my　wavering
purpose。　　For　a　whole　fortnight　I　have　thought　of　leaving　her。　　I
must　away。　　She　has　returned　to　town；　and　is　at　the　house　of　a
friend。　　And　then；　Albert　　yes；　I　must　go。

SEPTEMBER　1O。

Oh；　what　a　night；　Wilhelm！　　I　can　henceforth　bear　anything。　　I
shall　never　see　her　again。　　Oh；　why　cannot　I　fall　on　your　neck；
and；　with　floods　of　tears　and　raptures；　give　utterance　to　all　the
passions　which　distract　my　heart！　　Here　I　sit　gasping　for　breath；
and　struggling　to　compose　myself。　　I　wait　for　day；　and　at　sunrise
the　horses　are　to　be　at　the　door。

And　she　is　sleeping　calmly；　little　suspecting　that　she　has　seen　me
for　the　last　time。　　I　am　free。　　I　have　had　the　courage；　in　an
interview　of　two　hours'　duration；　not　to　betray　my　intention。　　And
O　Wilhelm；　what　a　conversation　it　was！

Albert　had　promised　to　come　to　Charlotte　in　the　garden　immediately
after　supper。　　I　was　upon　the　terrace　under　the　tall　chestnut　trees；
and　watched　the　setting　sun。　　I　saw　him　sink　for　the　last　time
beneath　this　delightful　valley　and　silent