The Sorrows ofYoung Werther
ened his natural powers, produced the saddest effects upon him, and rendered him at length the victim of an exhaustion against which he struggled with still more painful efforts than he had displayed, even in contending with his other misfor- tunes. His mental anxiety weakened his various good quali- ties; and he was soon converted into a gloomy companion, always unhappy and unjust in his ideas, the more wretched he became. This was, at least, the opinion of Albert’s friends. They assert, moreover, that the character of Albert himself had undergone no change in the meantime: he was still the same being whom Werther had loved, honoured, and respected from the commencement. His love for Charlotte was un- bounded: he was proud of her, and desired that she should be recognised by every one as the noblest of created beings. Was he, however, to blame for wishing to avert from her every appearance of suspicion? or for his unwillingness to share his rich prize with another, even for a moment, and in the most innocent manner? It is asserted that Albert frequently retired from his wife’s apartment during Werther’s visits; but this did not arise from hatred or aversion to his friend, but only from a feeling that his presence was oppressive to Werther.
Charlotte’s father, who was confined to the house by indis- position, was accustomed to send his carriage for her, that she might make excursions in the neighbourhood. One day the weather had been unusually severe, and the whole country was covered with snow.
Werther went for Charlotte the following morning, in or- der that, if Albert were absent, he might conduct her home.
The beautiful weather produced but little impression on his troubled spirit. A heavy weight lay upon his soul, deep melancholy had taken possession of him, and his mind knew no change save from one painful thought to another.
As he now never enjoyed internal peace, the condition of his fellow creatures was to him a perpetual source of trouble and distress. He believed he had disturbed the happiness of Albert and his wife; and, whilst he censured himself strongly for this, he began to entertain a secret dislike to Albert.
His thoughts were occasionally directed to this point. “Yes,” he would repeat to himself, with ill-concealed dissatisfaction, “yes, this is, after all, the extent of that confiding, dear, ten- der, and sympathetic love, that calm and eternal fidelity! What do I behold but satiety and indifference? Does not every frivo-