Delphi Collected Works of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe \(Illustrated\) pdfdrive com

DECEMBER 15.

What is the matter with me, dear Wilhelm? I am afraid of myself! Is not my

love  for  her  of  the  purest,  most  holy,  and  most  brotherly  nature?  Has  my  soul

ever  been  sullied  by  a  single  sensual  desire?  but  I  will  make  no  protestations.

And now, ye nightly visions, how truly have those mortals understood you, who

ascribe your various contradictory effects to some invincible power! This night I

tremble at the avowal — I held her in my arms, locked in a close embrace: I

pressed  her  to  my  bosom,  and  covered  with  countless  kisses  those  dear  lips

which murmured in reply soft protestations of love. My sight became confused

by the delicious intoxication of her eyes. Heavens!  is it sinful to revel again  in

such  happiness,  to  recall  once  more  those  rapturous  moments  with  intense

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delight?  Charlotte!  Charlotte!  I  am  lost!  My  senses  are  bewildered,  my

recollection is confused, mine eyes are bathed in tears — I am ill; and yet I am

well — I wish for nothing — I have no desires — it were better I were gone.

Under  the  circumstances  narrated  above,  a  determination  to  quit  this  world

had now taken fixed possession of Werther’s soul. Since Charlotte’s return, this

thought had been the final object of all his hopes and wishes; but he had resolved

that  such  a  step  should  not  be  taken  with  precipitation,  but  with  calmness  and

tranquillity, and with the most perfect deliberation.

His  troubles  and  internal  struggles  may  be  understood  from  the  following

fragment, which was found, without any date, amongst his papers, and appears

to have formed the beginning of a letter to Wilhelm.

“Her presence, her fate, her sympathy for me, have power still to extract tears

from my withered brain.

“One lifts up the curtain, and passes to the other side, — that is all! And why

all these doubts and delays? Because we know not what is behind — because

there  is  no  returning    —    and  because  our  mind  infers  that  all  is  darkness  and

confusion, where we have nothing but uncertainty.”

His appearance at length became quite altered by the effect of his melancholy

thoughts; and his resolution was now finally and irrevocably taken, of which the

following  ambiguous  letter,  which  he  addressed  to  his  friend,  may  appear  to

afford some proof.