Sorrows of Young Werther and Selected Writings (9781101635483)

by Goethe, Johannwolfgang Von; Hutter, Catherine (TRN)

  Such a youthful, carefree attachment can be compared with a rocket set off at night, which rises up in a gentle, glowing arc, mingles with the stars, appears to linger among them for a while, then, as it falls, describes a similar path, only this time in the opposite direction, and finally brings ruination where it ends its flight. Friederike remained always the same. She didn’t seem to think or want to think that our relationship might end. Olivia also did not like to see me stay away, but she did not lose as much as her sister by my absence. She could therefore be more farseeing and candid about it. She spoke to me sometimes about a parting that she could see was probable and tried to find some consolation for her sister and herself. A girl who gives up a man to whom she has not denied her affection is not in nearly such an embarrassing position as the youth who has gone just as far in the declaration of his love. He always cuts a sorry figure, because as a maturing man a certain perspicacity is expected of him and rashness does not suit him. The reasons of a girl who withdraws always seem valid; a man’s never!

  But how can a flattering passion possibly grant us the foresight as to where it may lead? Even when we have very sensibly decided to give it up, we can’t let it go, but continue to find delight in the beloved custom, even if in a completely altered fashion. And that is what happened to me. Although Friederike’s presence caused me anxiety, still I could conceive of nothing more pleasant than to think of her and converse with her when I was not with her. My visits to Sesenheim became less frequent; our correspondence, however, grew more and more lively. She knew how to write merrily about events and described her feelings with great charm, and I passionately recalled all her good qualities. Absence set me free, and my attachment to her blossomed all the more through our conversation across the distance. At such moments, I could deceive myself thoroughly about the future. I was distracted enough anyway by the passing of time and important business. Until now I had managed to accomplish a great variety of things by a constant lively participation in everything going on around me, but in the end all things conspired to create a too powerful pressure, as happens when the time has come to withdraw from a place….

  In this state of pressure and confusion, I could not avoid seeing Friederike once more. They were embarrassing days, and I do not remember them. As I stretched out my hand to her—I was already seated on my horse—there were tears in her eyes, and I felt utterly miserable. Then I rode along the footpath to Drusenheim, and there I had a very strange vision. I saw myself—not with my physical but with my mind’s eye—approaching myself on horseback, dressed in a suit I could not remember ever having had on, leaden gray with a little gold. I shook myself out of the dream, and the figure was gone. The strange thing is that, eight years later, I found myself on the same path, riding to visit Friederike in the suit I had seen in the vision, and I was wearing it quite by chance. One may think what one will of such things, but the miraculous vision gave me a little comfort in this hour of parting. The pain of leaving beautiful Alsace forever, and everything I had so richly experienced there, was eased; and with the confusion of farewell behind me at last, I again found myself, in a fashion, on a peaceful and inspiring journey….

  How can young people be expected to find the highest interests in life, how can they hope to arouse interest among their own kind, if they are not animated by love? If an affair of the heart, whatever kind it may be, is not alive in them? I was mourning a lost love in secret, and it made me mild and acquiescent and more pleasant company than in brighter times, when there was nothing to remind me of my errors or a deficiency in me, and I would storm along rootlessly. Friederike’s reply to a final letter of mine tore my heart: the same handwriting, the same sensitivity, the same feeling that had tended toward me and been encouraged by me. Now I could feel the loss she suffered, but could see no possibility of replacing it or of consoling her. Suddenly she was present again; I missed her constantly, and what was worst, I could not forgive myself for my own misfortune. Gretchen10 had been taken from me; Annette11 had forsaken me; but here, for the first time, I was at fault. I had deeply wounded a beautiful heart, and a period of gloomy remorse, unrelieved by an accustomed, refreshing love, became extremely painful—one might almost say unbearable.

  But a man wants to live. I therefore began to take serious interest in those around me and tried to extricate some from their dilemmas and unite others who were thinking of parting, so that they might not share my fate. People began to call me “the confidant,” and because it was my wont to rove all over the countryside, “the wanderer.” The comfort I felt under the open sky, in valleys, on heights, in field and forest, was helped by Frankfurt’s location. It lay between Darmstadt and Homburg, two pleasant cities that were amiably disposed toward each other because of the relationship between their two courts. I made a habit of living in the open, of wandering like a messenger between mountains and flatlands. Sometimes I walked alone through my native town, sometimes with company, as if the place were no concern of mine. I ate in the public restaurants on the main thoroughfare and, after the meal, wandered on. I was more than ever attuned to the wide-open world and nature’s freedom. On my way, I would sing to myself—strange hymns and wild lyrics in free verse. Of them all, one, called “Wanderers Sturmlied,” is still in existence. And I would sing all this half-nonsense aloud, passionately, as if a terrible storm that I had to escape were about to break over me….

  But during this period, when the pain caused by Friederike’s situation made me fearful, I tried in the old way that was habitual to me to find consolation in the art of poetry. I turned once more to the traditional poetic confession in order to become worthy of absolution through this self-scourging atonement. Both Marias, in Götz von Berlichingen and Clavigo, and their lovers who play the part of villains, are probably the results of my remorse.

  But in one’s youth, one overcomes hurt and illness quickly, because a healthy system of organic life takes over and gives a young man time to recover. Fortunately quite a few opportunities for physical exercise offered themselves at the appropriate time, and I was stimulated by new enjoyments. Riding gradually replaced my slow, melancholy, fatiguing, and aimless wanderings. I got where I wanted to go more quickly, happily, and comfortably. The younger generation reintroduced fencing, and with the onset of winter, a new world was opened up for us. I soon made up my mind to try skating—something I had never done before—and in a short time, through practice, concentration, and doggedness, I reached the point necessary for the enjoyment of a gay and lively rink, even if I could not distinguish myself.

  We really had Klopstock to thank for this joyous new activity. His enthusiasm is confirmed by private accounts, and his odes give undeniable proof of it. I remember so well jumping out of bed one bright, frosty morning, and recalling the verse:

  Filled with joy alone by my own soundness,

  I have made white the spreading crystal, far, far down.

  How gently winter’s dawning day doth light the snow!

  Hoarfrost like stars has scattered a whole glittering night across it.12

  My hesitant and fluctuating decision was fixed at once. Off I flew, straight to the place where an old beginner like me could do best with his efforts. And in truth, this trial of strength deserved to be recommended by Klopstock, for it brings us in contact with the freshness of childhood, challenges the young man to enjoy his litheness, and is suited to defend us against the stagnation of old age. And we became absolutely addicted to the pleasure. It didn’t suffice to spend a glorious Sunday on the ice; we went on skating far into the night. Other forms of exercise may tire the body, but skating gives it ever fresh élan. The full moon rising over the wide nocturnal meadows, frozen to ice fields, the night air rushing toward us as we glided forward, the somber thunder of sinking ice as the water level went down, the strange echoing of our own motions, were perfect reminders of scenes by Ossian. First one, then another of our friends would recite an ode of Klopstock’s in declamatory half tones, and when we met agai
n in the twilight, the sincere praise of the instigator of our joys could be heard:

  How could He who created health and joy,

  Such as horse trotting briskly ne’er conveys,

  Which e’en the bouncing ball doth lack,

  Not be immortal?13

  A man who knows how to ennoble any of our earthly activities by intellectual stimulation, and understands how to propagate them appropriately, merits all our thanks. Then we forgo our calling to higher things only too easily, like talented children whose gifts have been developed marvelously early in life and who, when given a chance, turn again to the simplest boyhood games.

  Excerpts from Aus Meinem Leben: Dichtung und Wahrheit, Book X, published in 1812, and Books XI and XII, published in 1814.

  THE NEW MELUSINA

  Honored gentlemen! I am fully aware of the fact that you do not like forewords or introductions; therefore I hasten to assure you that this time I intend to pass with flying colors. I know that quite a few of the true stories I have told turned out to everyone’s satisfaction, but today I am going to tell you one that far surpasses all the others. Although it happened several years ago, it still disturbs me whenever I recall it and I hope that someday there may be further developments. I think it would be hard to find its equal.

  First, let me confess that I have not always lived in a way that could insure my immediate future—frankly, not even the next day! In my youth, I was not a good manager and often found myself in quite embarrassing straits. Once I undertook a journey that was intended to be profitable, but I aimed too high, and after having begun the trip in a private coach, had to continue by ordinary diligence and finally found myself traveling on foot.

  I was a bright young man and it was a custom of mine, whenever I arrived at an inn, to look around for the landlady or the cook and to ingratiate myself with them, a practice that usually helped to reduce my bill.

  One evening, as I walked into the stagecoach inn of a small town and was about to proceed in my usual fashion, a beautiful carriage, a two-seater drawn by four horses, rattled up to the entrance behind me. Turning, I saw a woman, alone—no maid, no footman. I hurried forward to open the door for her and assure her that I was her servant. As she descended, I could see that she was beautifully built and, on looking more closely, that her lovely face betrayed a hint of sadness. Again I asked if there was anything I could do for her. “Yes,” she replied, “would you take out the casket on the seat for me? But be careful, please, and carry it upstairs. I must beg you, though, to be sure to hold it level and not to move or shake it in any way.” I picked up the casket carefully; she closed the door of the carriage and told the domestic that she intended to stay the night.

  Soon we were alone in her room. She asked me to put the casket on a table that stood against the wall, and since I could gather from her behavior that she wished to be alone, I withdrew after kissing her hand respectfully and fervently, whereupon she said, “Order dinner for both of us.” You can imagine how delighted I was to carry out her orders. In my exuberance, I scarcely gave landlady and cook a nod! I awaited the moment that would bring us together again with the greatest impatience. The dinner was served, we sat down opposite each other, I enjoyed my first good meal in a long time, and with it—what a delectable sight! I must say, she seemed to grow more and more beautiful by the minute!

  She was most gracious, but she rejected any efforts on my part to be more intimate. The dishes were removed. I lingered on, racking my brains for a ruse that might bring me closer to her—in vain. A certain dignity on her part held me back. I could not overcome it and had to take my leave early, quite against my will.

  After a wakeful night filled with restless dreaming, I was up early and inquired whether she had ordered fresh horses. I was told no, and walked out into the garden. From there, I could see her at the window of her room, fully dressed, and hurried up to her. When I found her to be just as beautiful—nay, more beautiful than the day before, I was overwhelmed by a wicked audacity. Rushing up to her, I took her in my arms.

  “Angelic, irresistible creature!” I cried. “Forgive me, but I cannot help myself.”

  She extricated herself from my embrace with unbelievable dexterity. I wasn’t even able to kiss her cheek. “You will have to curb such outbursts,” she said, “or you will forfeit a happiness that lies within your reach. But you shall not take possession of it until you have passed several tests.”

  “Ask of me what you will, angelic spirit,” I cried. “Only do not drive me to despair!”

  Smiling, she said, “If you want to serve me, hear my conditions. I have come here to visit a friend with whom I intend to stay a few days. During that time I would like my carriage and this casket to travel on ahead. Would you undertake the assignment? All you have to do is place the casket in the carriage and lift it out again, sit beside it when it is in the carriage and take good care of it. Whenever you arrive at an inn, place it on a table in a room all by itself where you are not to live or step. You must lock this room every time with this key, which can open all locks. It has a special power that prevents anyone else from opening them in the meantime.”

  I stared at her and suddenly I began to feel quite strange, but I promised to do everything she said, if only I could hope to see her again soon and she would seal my hopes with a kiss. She did, and from that moment on I was hers, body and soul. Now, she said, I was please to go and order fresh horses. We discussed what route I was to take and the places where I was to stop and wait for her. Finally, she gave me a purse full of gold, and I kissed her hand. As we parted, she seemed touched, and I—I didn’t know what I was doing!

  When I came back after having ordered the horses, I found the door of her room locked. I tried the passkey at once, and it stood the test perfectly. The door opened. I found the room empty, only the casket was standing on the table where I had placed it.

  Meanwhile the carriage had been brought to the front entrance. I carried the casket down carefully and placed it on the seat beside me. The landlady asked, “Where is the lady?” A child replied, “She went into town.” I bade them farewell and left them triumphantly—I, who had arrived the night before with dusty leggings. You can readily imagine that, with nothing else to do, I began to give the whole business a lot of thought. I counted the money, made a few plans of my own, and every now and then gave the casket a sidelong glance. I drove straight on, didn’t tarry at quite a few stops and didn’t rest until I had arrived at one of the larger towns she had specified. I obeyed her instructions meticulously and placed the box in a room by itself with candles on either side, as she had ordered. I locked the room, moved into my own, and made myself comfortable.

  For a time I was able to pass the hours thinking of her, but after a while I became bored. I was not used to living alone, and I soon found the sort of company I liked at inns and public places, in the pursuit of which my money began to dwindle away. One evening, after having carelessly indulged in a wild game of chance, I found my purse empty. When I got back to my room, I was beside myself. I looked like a rich man and could expect a stiff bill next morning; I had no idea when my beautiful lady would turn up again, if ever; in short, I could not have found myself in a more embarrassing situation. I longed for her doubly and felt I couldn’t live a moment longer without her and her money.

  After supper, which I couldn’t enjoy because, for the first time, I had to dine alone, I paced my room, up and down, spoke loudly to myself, cursed myself, threw myself on the floor, tore my hair, altogether behaved abominably. Suddenly I heard a slight movement in the next room, which I had locked, and after that, a knocking. I pulled myself together, and took my passkey, but I did not need it. The double door opened all by itself, and my lovely lady was coming toward me by the light of the candles. I threw myself at her feet, kissed the hem of her dress, her hands. She helped me to my feet. I didn’t dare to embrace her. I scarcely dared to look at her, but I confessed my sins honestly and remorsefully.

  “
I forgive you,” she said, “but unfortunately you are delaying your happiness and mine. Now you must travel another stretch out into the world before we may meet again. Here is more gold, enough if you know how to manage at all. Since wine and women brought you to this pass, avoid them in the future, and let us hope to meet again happily.”

  She stepped back into the room, and the doors closed. I knocked, I pleaded, but I could hear nothing more. Next morning when I asked for the bill, the waiter smiled and said, “Now we know why you lock your doors in such a puzzling fashion, so that no passkey can open them. We thought you must be the bearer of a great treasure and much money, and when we saw your treasure coming downstairs, we had to admit that you are right to secure her so carefully.”

  I had nothing to say to that, but paid my bill and got into the carriage with the casket. This time I drove out into the world firmly determined to heed my mysterious lady’s warning, but I had scarcely reached the next big town when I found myself surrounded by attractive women from whom I simply could not tear myself away. They seemed determined to make me pay dearly for their favors, for they managed to keep me at a distance yet plunge me into one expenditure after the other, and since I had nothing on my mind but to keep them amused, I again gave no thought to what I was spending, but paid and played host whenever the opportunity arose. You can imagine my astonishment and delight when I discovered a few weeks later that my sack of gold was as round and full as ever.