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
He tells me sometimes of her excellent mother; how, upon her death-bed,
she had committed her house and children to Charlotte, and had given
Charlotte herself in charge to him; how, since that time, a new spirit
had taken possession of her; how, in care and anxiety for their welfare,
she became a real mother to them; how every moment of her time was
devoted to some labour of love in their behalf,—and yet her mirth and
cheerfulness had never forsaken her. I walk by his side, pluck flowers
by the way, arrange them carefully into a nosegay, then fling them into
the first stream I pass, and watch them as they float gently away. I
forget whether I told you that Albert is to remain here. He has received
a government appointment, with a very good salary; and I understand
he is in high favour at court. I have met few persons so punctual and
methodical in business.
AUGUST 12.
Certainly Albert is the best fellow in the world. I had a strange scene
with him yesterday. I went to take leave of him; for I took it into my
head to spend a few days in these mountains, from where I now write
to you. As I was walking up and down his room, my eye fell upon his
pistols. "Lend me those pistols," said I, "for my journey." "By all
means," he replied, "if you will take the trouble to load them; for they
only hang there for form." I took down one of them; and he continued,
"Ever since I was near suffering for my extreme caution, I will have
nothing to do with such things." I was curious to hear the story. "I was
staying," said he, "some three months ago, at a friend's house in the
country. I had a brace of pistols with me, unloaded; and I slept without
any anxiety. One rainy afternoon I was sitting by myself, doing nothing,
when it occurred to me I do not know how that the house might be
attacked, that we might require the pistols, that we might in short, you
know how we go on fancying, when we have nothing better to do. I gave
the pistols to the servant, to clean and load. He was playing with the
maid, and trying to frighten her, when the pistol went off—God knows
how!—the ramrod was in the barrel; and it went straight through
her right hand, and shattered the thumb. I had to endure all the
lamentation, and to pay the surgeon's bill; so, since that time, I have
kept all my weapons unloaded. But, my dear friend, what is the use of
prudence? We can never be on our guard against all possible dangers.
However,"—now, you must know I can tolerate all men till they come to
"however;"—for it is self-evident that every universal rule must have
its exceptions. But he is so exceedingly accurate, that, if he only
fancies he has said a word too precipitate, or too general, or only half
true, he never ceases to qualify, to modify, and extenuate, till at last
he appears to have said nothing at all. Upon this occasion, Albert was
deeply immersed in his subject: I ceased to listen to him, and became
lost in reverie. With a sudden motion, I pointed the mouth of the pistol
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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