The Sorrows of Young WertherGoethe, Johann Wolfgang von
General
The Sorrows of Young Werther
Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von
Germany -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Unrequited love -- Fiction; Young men -- Germany -- Fiction
It is so strange how, when I came here first, and gazed upon that
lovely valley from the hillside, I felt charmed with the entire scene
surrounding me. The little wood opposite—how delightful to sit under
its shade! How fine the view from that point of rock! Then, that
delightful chain of hills, and the exquisite valleys at their feet!
Could I but wander and lose myself amongst them! I went, and returned
without finding what I wished. Distance, my friend, is like futurity. A
dim vastness is spread before our souls: the perceptions of our mind are
as obscure as those of our vision; and we desire earnestly to surrender
up our whole being, that it may be filled with the complete and perfect
bliss of one glorious emotion. But alas! when we have attained our
object, when the distant there becomes the present here, all is changed:
we are as poor and circumscribed as ever, and our souls still languish
for unattainable happiness.
So does the restless traveller pant for his native soil, and find in his
own cottage, in the arms of his wife, in the affections of his children,
and in the labour necessary for their support, that happiness which he
had sought in vain through the wide world.
When, in the morning at sunrise, I go out to Walheim, and with my own
hands gather in the garden the pease which are to serve for my dinner,
when I sit down to shell them, and read my Homer during the intervals,
and then, selecting a saucepan from the kitchen, fetch my own butter,
put my mess on the fire, cover it up, and sit down to stir it as
occasion requires, I figure to myself the illustrious suitors of
Penelope, killing, dressing, and preparing their own oxen and swine.
Nothing fills me with a more pure and genuine sense of happiness than
those traits of patriarchal life which, thank Heaven! I can imitate
without affectation. Happy is it, indeed, for me that my heart is
capable of feeling the same simple and innocent pleasure as the peasant
whose table is covered with food of his own rearing, and who not only
enjoys his meal, but remembers with delight the happy days and sunny
mornings when he planted it, the soft evenings when he watered it, and
the pleasure he experienced in watching its daily growth.
JUNE 29.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account