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The Sorrows of Young Werther
BOOK I
MAY 4.
How happy I am that I am gone! My dear friend, what a thing is the heart
of man! To leave you, from whom I have been inseparable, whom I love
so dearly, and yet to feel happy! I know you will forgive me. Have not
other attachments been specially appointed by fate to torment a head
like mine? Poor Leonora! and yet I was not to blame. Was it my fault,
that, whilst the peculiar charms of her sister afforded me an agreeable
entertainment, a passion for me was engendered in her feeble heart? And
yet am I wholly blameless? Did I not encourage her emotions? Did I not
feel charmed at those truly genuine expressions of nature, which, though
but little mirthful in reality, so often amused us? Did I not–but
oh! what is man, that he dares so to accuse himself? My dear friend I
promise you I will improve; I will no longer, as has ever been my habit,
continue to ruminate on every petty vexation which fortune may dispense;
I will enjoy the present, and the past shall be for me the past.
No doubt you are right, my best of friends, there would be far less
suffering amongst mankind, if men–and God knows why they are so
fashioned–did not employ their imaginations so assiduously in recalling
the memory of past sorrow, instead of bearing their present lot with
equanimity. Be kind enough to inform my mother that I shall attend to
her business to the best of my ability, and shall give her the earliest
information about it. I have seen my aunt, and find that she is very far
from being the disagreeable person our friends allege her to be. She is
a lively, cheerful woman, with the best of hearts. I explained to her my
mother’s wrongs with regard to that part of her portion which has
been withheld from her. She told me the motives and reasons of her own