The Sorrows of Young Werther (44) by J.W. von Goethe

The Sorrows of Young Werther (44) by J.W. von Goethe

SEPTEMBER 5.

Charlotte had written a letter to her husband in the country, where he
was detained by business. It commenced, “My dearest love, return as
soon as possible: I await you with a thousand raptures.” A friend who
arrived, brought word, that, for certain reasons, he could not return
immediately. Charlotte’s letter was not forwarded, and the same evening
it fell into my hands. I read it, and smiled. She asked the reason.
“What a heavenly treasure is imagination:” I exclaimed; “I fancied for a
moment that this was written to me.” She paused, and seemed displeased.
I was silent.

SEPTEMBER 6.

It cost me much to part with the blue coat which I wore the first time I
danced with Charlotte. But I could not possibly wear it any longer.
But I have ordered a new one, precisely similar, even to the collar and
sleeves, as well as a new waistcoat and pantaloons.

But it does not produce the same effect upon me. I know not how it is,
but I hope in time I shall like it better.

SEPTEMBER 12.

She has been absent for some days. She went to meet Albert. To-day
I visited her: she rose to receive me, and I kissed her hand most
tenderly.

A canary at the moment flew from a mirror, and settled upon her
shoulder. “Here is a new friend,” she observed, while she made him perch
upon her hand: “he is a present for the children. What a dear he is!
Look at him! When I feed him, he flutters with his wings, and pecks so
nicely. He kisses me, too, only look!”

She held the bird to her mouth; and he pressed her sweet lips with
so much fervour that he seemed to feel the excess of bliss which he
enjoyed.

“He shall kiss you too,” she added; and then she held the bird toward
me. His little beak moved from her mouth to mine, and the delightful
sensation seemed like the forerunner of the sweetest bliss.

“A kiss,” I observed, “does not seem to satisfy him: he wishes for food,
and seems disappointed by these unsatisfactory endearments.”

“But he eats out of my mouth,” she continued, and extended her lips to
him containing seed; and she smiled with all the charm of a being who
has allowed an innocent participation of her love.

I turned my face away. She should not act thus. She ought not to excite
my imagination with such displays of heavenly innocence and happiness,
nor awaken my heart from its slumbers, in which it dreams of the
worthlessness of life! And why not? Because she knows how much I love
her.

The Sorrows of Young Werther (Die Leiden des jungen Werther) by J.W. von Goethe. Translated by R.D. Boylan.
To be continued

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