少年维特的烦恼 英文版 The Sorrows of Young Werther
歌德 Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
MAY 30.
What I have lately said of painting is equally true with respectto poetry. It is only necessary for us to know what is reallyexcellent, and venture to give it expression; and that is sayingmuch in few words. To-day I have had a scene, which, if literallyrelated, would, make the most beautiful idyl in the world. Butwhy should I talk of poetry and scenes and idyls? Can we nevertake pleasure in nature without having recourse to art?
If you expect anything grand or magnificent from this introduction,you will be sadly mistaken. It relates merely to a peasant-lad,who has excited in me the warmest interest. As usual, I shalltell my story badly; and you, as usual, will think me extravagant.It is Walheim once more -- always Walheim -- which produces thesewonderful phenomena.
A party had assembled outside the house under the linden-trees,to drink coffee. The company did not exactly please me; and, underone pretext or another, I lingered behind.
A peasant came from an adjoining house, and set to work arrangingsome part of the same plough which I had lately sketched. Hisappearance pleased me; and I spoke to him, inquired about hiscircumstances, made his acquaintance, and, as is my wont withpersons of that class, was soon admitted into his confidence. Hesaid he was in the service of a young widow, who set great storeby him. He spoke so much of his mistress, and praised her soextravagantly, that I could soon see he was desperately in lovewith her. "She is no longer young," he said: "and she was treatedso badly by her former husband that she does not mean to marryagain." From his account it was so evident what incomparablecharms she possessed for him, and how ardently he wished she wouldselect him to extinguish the recollection of her first husband'smisconduct, that I should have to repeat his own words in orderto describe the depth of the poor fellow's attachment, truth, anddevotion. It would, in fact, require the gifts of a great poetto convey the expression of his features, the harmony of his voice,and the heavenly fire of his eye. No words can portray thetenderness of his every movement and of every feature: no effortof mine could do justice to the scene. His alarm lest I shouldmisconceive his position with regard to his mistress, or questionthe propriety of her conduct, touched me particularly. The charmingmanner with which he described her form and person, which, withoutpossessing the graces of youth, won and attached him to her, isinexpressible, and must be left to the imagination. I have neverin my life witnessed or fancied or conceived the possibility ofsuch intense devotion, such ardent affections, united with so muchpurity. Do not blame me if I say that the recollection of thisinnocence and truth is deeply impressed upon my very soul; thatthis picture of fidelity and tenderness haunts me everywhere; andthat my own heart, as though enkindled by the flame, glows andburns within me.
I mean now to try and see her as soon as I can: or perhaps, onsecond thoughts, I had better not; it is better I should beholdher through the eyes of her lover. To my sight, perhaps, she wouldnot appear as she now stands before me; and why should I destroyso sweet a picture?