' . t - University of California Berkeley THE LETTERS O F CHARLOTTE. VOL. I. THE LETTERS O F / CHAR L TTE y DURING HER CONNEXION WITH W E R T E R. Graxiafola difu ne uaglla j inantl Che flu V dejio d'amore al cor s'invccckl. VOL. I. LONDON: PRINTED FOR T, CADELL, IN THE STRAND. M,DCC,LXXXVI. HER MOST EXCELLENT MAJESTY, THE QJLJ E E N : NOT MORE HONOURED FOR HER DIGNITY, THAN REVERED FOR HER PIETY, AND BELOVED FOR HER VIRTUES; THE FOLLOWING LETTERS ARE, WITH ALL HUMILITY, INSCRIBED BY HER MAJESTY'S DUTIFUL SERVANT, /T. JAMES. No. 2, Bow-Street, Covent-Garden. PREFACE, B r r H E E D i r o R. JL AM happy that in preferring the follow^ ing letters to the public, I am not exhibit ing fcenes, or communicating opinions, that can wound delicacy, or pervert fentiment. And though I too well know, that to avoid licentious defcription, and to reject fafhion- able ideas, is to wander far from the road that leads to wealth and fame in the literary world ii PREFACE. world, yet 1 am not willing to acquire either one or the other at the expence of my rea der's happinefs. If amufement only is to be found in the Letters of Charlotte, it will at lead be innocent amufement. If opinions are advanced which may appear uncommon, they will not be found to militate againftthc precepts of religion. If the mind of the reader is not expanded by additional know ledge, it will not be contracted by the fub- tleties of fcepticifm. Whether thefe negative recommendations will carry any weight, I know not ; but I am forry to find any book publifhed, in favour of which even thefe cannot be ad vanced ; and I am ftill more forry that a book fo univerfally read as the Sorrows of Wcrter, ihould fall under this predicament ; a book which is not fimply an apology for the PREFACE. iii the horrible crime of Suicide, but in which, as far as the author's abilities would go, it is juflified and recommended ! But the author, not fatisfied with recom mending a fpecific crime, has aimed a violent blow at all religion. In the language of thofe men who, if they would, cannot, avoid venerating revelation, he fays : " I revere our religion ; you know I do : I am fenfible that it often gives ftrength to the feeble, and comfort to the afflicted. But has it," he continues " fhould it have this efTecl: on all men equally ? confider this vaft univerfe, and you will find millions for whom it never has exifted ; and millions, whether it is preached to them or not, for whom it never will exifL" This is meant as a pretext for totally rejecting it. Upon the fame principle 3 we might rejed almoft every iv PREFACE. every thing that Providence affords us. He adds ; " What is the deftiny of man ? to fill up the meafure of his fufferings, and drink up the bitter draught."* Such are the fentiments interwoven in a work intended ftrongly to affel the mind, and in which the hero is made to aft in conformity to thefe fentiments. The aftion itfelf, I mould hope, would fhew the error and fu tility of the reafoning ; and I will not pafs fo ill a compliment on the judgment of the reader, as to analyfe thepaffage I have quo ted ; the fophiftry I mould think too glaring to miflead a mind not totally deftitute of all moral cultivation : and yet I am forry to fay, we have had inftances, in which, to gether witli the influence of the example, it has operated to the deftru6Hon of indivi duals, * See the Sorrows of Werter, Letter L x v n i PREFACE. v duals, particularly among the other fex, who, from their virtues and attainments, muft otherwife have become happy in them- felves, and ornamental to fociety. It would be painful to be particular ; but, in fupport of what I have faid, I cannot avoid taking notice of a (ingle faft, well known in the metropolis, that a young and amiable lady who " rafhly ventured on the unknown fhore," had the Sorrows of Werter under her pillow when fhe was found in the fleep of death. Thus, in a ftory, a poem, or a fable, the man of genius fends forth the firebrands of infidelity, and arms his fellow-creatures with defpair to anticipate the fbrokeof death. Pretending to uncommon liberality of fenti- ment, he difcovers the weaknefs, without the virtue, of that monaftic fuperftition which VI PREFACE. which reprefents the world as a theatre of mifery and continual fufferings.* This is not a proper place for me to controvert an opinion, were it worth controverting, which, I truft, every reader knows and feels to be falfe. It was very artful in the author, to infi- nuate, that his hero was " ftrongly impref- ied with fentiments of religion." To have obtruded opinions in direft contradiction to thofe fentiments, without fome fophifhical allufion to them, would have fhocked, in- flead of converting his readers, to become the difciples of that fell defpair which whets the dagger of felf-aflaffination. It is need- lefs * The fallacy of this doftrine is expofed with irre futable argument, conveyed in the captivating form of a vifion, and in all the beauty of language, by the RAMBLER, No. 44. PREFACE. vii lefs for me to obferve, that he who is really " imprefled with fentiments of religion," will not readily be guilty of any crime, much lefs of the greateft. In the Preface to the Sorrows of Wc we are told, that the author had been cal led the apologift of Suicide, "by thofe who abfurdly afcribed to him the erroneous fen timents which he has given to his principal character." Here feems to be a diftin&ion without a difference. If the author gave his hero thofe fentiments, furely they are his own ; and if they are erroneous, be whofe they will, why are they publifhed without their antidote ? As a tranflator, the Editor tells us, that, to avoid giving offence, feveral exceptionable fentiments are omitted. Had the author been influenced by fimilar mo tives, the work would never have appeared ; at viii PREFACE. at lead he might have indulged us with the efforts of his genius, without {hocking us with the depravity of his principles. The mod extenfive evil a man can do, is to pub- lifh a bad book. The letters of Werter having been read with avidity, I am to folicit public indul gence for thofe of the amiable Charlotte. They commence at the time Werter's com mence, and were written by her to a female friend, with whom fhe correfponded both before and after the death of Werter. Though they are, in general, mifcellaneous, they partake more of the nature of a novel than thofe of Werter. I might fay, that the female mind is more given to narrative than to refle&ion ; the letters of Charlotte, how ever, will not warrant the aflertion : they abound with reflections which, if they do not PREFACE. ix not difplay a brilliant underftanding, dif- cover a good heart. Sufceptible ofthemofl tender impreflions, and alive to all the feel ings of refined fenfibility, the natural cheer- fulnefs of her difpofition often gave way to pathetic contemplation ; and Ihe is not lefs communicative of her thoughts than of her conduct. The regard Charlotte exprefles for the Englifh language, in which fhe was conver- fant, and for Englifli authors, muft natu rally be pleafmg to an Englifh reader. She quotes our poets, as we quote the ancients ; and it was natural fhe fhould do fo : fenti- ments acquired through the medium of ano ther language make the ftrongefi impreflions on the mind. It x PREFACE. It afforded me no fmall pleafure to find, that in the letters of Charlotte there was no thing tofupprefs. I give them at large ; and wifh I could do the fame by her fair friend, of whom one cannot but conceive a high opinion, from the confidence repofed in her by Charlotte, and the great regard fhc cxprefles for her correfpondence. I ought to apologize for the length of this Preface ; but as apology would only add to prolixity, I forbear. Regardlefs of my fate as an Editor, I folicit protection and indulgence only for CHARLOTTE. CHARLOTTE, LETTER I. H E elegant defcription of your retirement charms me; but you always fketch with a flat tering pencil, and the moft capti vating colours. You think, I can have no objedlion to fo delightful a fpot-, and indeed I have but one VOL. i. B it * As the dates of thefe letters only fpecified the week-days on which they were written, it was thought needlefs to notice them. C * J it is too far from Walhcim. As ! fincerely regret your abfence, do not negleft, my dear girl, to give me the only confolation in your power the confolation of your en chanting correfpondence. To you it will afford fome amufement ; to me it will communicate real happi- nefs. Why, you are as abfolutely bu ried as if you were in a convent; but though you are thus devoted to Solitude, and are become one of her befl beloved difciples, you muft by no means take the veil. We cannot difpenfe with your occafional vifits. Walheim, believe me, f uffers con- fiderably t 3 3 fiderably by your abfence. Our converfatrons are become dull, for want of your fprightlinefs ; our evenings long; our dances languid. Adolphus Ferdinand very juftly, and very prettily, called you the Euphrofyne of Walheim. Your raillery, my fweet friend, is out of time, Albert is not here. A melancholy event hath called him hence : the grave receives his father. Albert, overwhelmed with filial grief, pays the laft fad duties of filial love 5 and for a time for gets his Charlotte. I cannot but lament the death of this good old man. In him Albert B 2 found [ 4 ] found not only an affectionate fa ther, but a fincere friend ^ one,who, deftitute of the peevilhnefs of age, re- membered that he once was young: one, whofe evening fky was illu mined by the funfhine of cheerful- nefs, and the beams of religion; and of all charafters, what can be more pleafing than that of a good old man ? Albert means to fettle all his affairs before his return , I do not, therefore, expeft to fee him this month. Now, as you are fo great an advocate for him, and " would do any thing to accelerate the feftival of Hymen," I think you ought, C 5 3 ought, during his abfence, to come and plead his caufe; and by your prefence render his abfence the lefs irkfome.--Adieu ! Prefent or ab- fent, always believe me to be Your affe&ionate CHARLOTTE. LETTER II. XT'OU forget, my dear Carolina, -*" that I have not much of what you term " idle time." You forget that I have the fuperin<:endence of a little family i and that, in being B 3 an * C 6 ] an eldeft fifter, I have all the cares of a parent. How, then, can you cxpeft me not only to write fre quently, but to write long letters ? Befides, I am bound to write to Albert twice a week; and thofe letters coft me no fmall trouble, for, in order to improve ourfelves in the Englifh language, we have agreed to correfpond in no other. So that all my " idle time," as you call it, is devoted to the read ing of Englifh books. I have juft had with me feveral of your admirers, to invite me to a ball next Tuefday. As I know moft of the party, and as no exercife can be [ 7 ] be more charming, I have promifed to attend. I hope there is no impro priety in it. Albert, I am fure, will not be difpleafed ; though I am forry I have not time to ac quaint him, and have his anfwer on the fubjeft, It has been very warmly, and I dare fay, very feelingly afferted by Adolphus Ferdinand, that there can be no dance without you. The language of lovers, you know, is not to be judged by common rules: this is a fort of poetical licence of Ferdinand's, by which we are to tp underftand, that he cannot dance without you. If you had a grain of [ 8 3 of companion, you would give fpirit to our dance, and peace to Ferdinand. LETTER III. r T l| HE occurrences of a ball, you ** know, always form a grand article in female correfpondence; and you will expedl a faithful nar rative of all our late proceedings. And, indeed, they are not unwor thy of commemoration. Indepen dent of mere amufement, meetings of this kind always afford matter of obfervation, and exhibit traits in cha- C 9 ] chara&ers difcoverable only on fuch occafions. Mrs. C. accompanied by her lovely niece, and a gentleman, whofe name is WERTER, was fo obliging as to give me a corner in a coach ; and though the horizon was gloomy, the good fpirits and charming converfation of my com panions, rendered the journey very Ihort, and we prefently found our- felves in the ball room. Befides our ufual fet, there were eight or ten ftrangers, and as they all danced, the room was tolerably well filled. Much grace was difplayed in the minuets, particularly by Fre derick, derick, Andran, W. Selftadt, and the gentleman who accompanied us. Your Adolphus and I com menced country dances. The third, I danced with Werter, who does the walfe uncommonly well, and was very animated. You know nothing affords me more pleafure than good dancing; and, having a good partner, perhaps I too might be more than ordinarily animated - 9 for in the midftof this dance, our friend Matilda Selftadt fignificant- ly pronounced the name of " Al bert," which fo much excited the curiofity of my partner, and ren dered him fo importunate, that I at length [ 11 ] length frankly told him the nature of my connexion with Albert. I am not vain enough to fnppofe this information had any effeft on the fpirits of Werter ; but from that moment he was perpetually out. I did not know what to think, I was willing to attribute his dif- order to the encreafe of the light ning, which, during the laft half hour, had become quite alarming j and the thunder was fo loud as ta over-power themufic. Several la dies quitted the dance \ the panic became general ; the muficians ceafed; and an awful filence fuc- ceeded. The miftrefs of the cere monies, monies, for fo I call Mrs. K. took us into a room, the window-fhut- ters of which prevented us feeing the lightning. Moft of the gen tlemen went to drinking, and we played at counting. The morn ing approached, and we returned home. The fcene was truly de lightful. We heard the thunder roll afar off; and whilft the fun was rifmg in the eaft, a beau tiful rainbow gave fplendour to the weft. " Ah," I faid, " what magnificent fimplicity is here ! what vivid colours in the fkies ! what emulation in the fields ! O, Klopftock ! who, befides thee, can paint [ '3 ] paint a fcene like this ?" The tear ftarted in my eye, and my heart glowed ; but who can de- fcribe angelic luxury ? Werter faid, " How the fplendour of our ball fades away before this !" Mrs. C. and her niece flept : be- fides being extremely early and re gular in their hours, they were wearied with dancing. I was fet down, without disturbing them ; and Werter faid, he would call in the evening, to tell me how they did. You will not aflc me any thing about the drefles of the ladies. A few years ago, indeed, they would have C '4 3 have come in for their (hare of ad miration and defcription : but to notice them now would be irkfome to me, and afford no pleafure to you. Simplicity feemed to be the goddefs of tafte, which all the la dies had worfhipped ; fo that there could be little difcrimination or diftinftion where each was adorned with one fpecies of elegance. I have a great opinion of the good fenfe and tafte of thofe ladies, who are the firft to facrifice the petty diftinftions of fplendid apparel to elegant neatnefs. Adieu ! LET- C '5 3 LETTER IV. I FORGOT in my laft to tell you, my dear Carolina, that I had a thoufand compliments to deliver to you , for a ball without you, would, you know, neceflarily excite much enquiry. Indeed the beaux were very inquifitive. When I told them, that you was hid in the very bofom of retirement, An- tonine Frederick faid, that con firmed his opinion of your being an angel. " How can you," I faid, " ufe fuch common appellations ?" " Nay," replied he, " I am fpeak- [ '6 ] fpeaking as a philofopher, and not as a lover : don't you know," he added, " that one of the ancients has faid, no being but a brute or an angel can bear abfolute retire ment ?" So you fee, my dear, you are a philofophical angel, and I lhall expedt not only learned, but frequent difcourfes from you. Have compaflion on your difciple, and write to me foon. Adieu ! LET t V ] LETTER V. TNDEED you have approved -*" yourfelf a philofopher. Your laft letter on retirement, fhews how well you can enjoy it, and to what an admirable end you can convert it. It certainly requires a portion 0f philofophic refolution, a mind well ftored, and, above all, it re quires innocence. Guilt feeks dif- fipation of thought ; whilft retire ment is the very nurfe of contemp lation. But it is not neceflary that we ftiould always contemplate. The adive virtues of fociety demand VOL, i. C our [ 1* J our prefence in the world. Re tirement is not the bufinefs of life : it is only the fcene of preparation, or of relaxation. That religious philofophy, therefore, which taught men to ere<5t monafteries and con vents, could not be founded in truth or nature. In hiding our. felves from a poflibility of tempta tion, we may, indeed, avoid many dangers; but do we not, at the fame time, preclude ourfelves from innumerable opportunities of re ceiving and of communicating hap- pinefs ? Befides, our leading ftar lights us on the way: " He went about doing good," and retired but to pray, It It amounts j uft to the fame thing: you fpoke of temporary retire ment, and, you fee, I am on the fame fide of the queftion. Though your aunt who, you fay, is the only rational being in your " enchanted caftle," though Ihe is cheerful, you muft necefla- rily pafs many hours, which can be appropriated to nothing but re- fledlion : convert your thoughts into epiftles, my dear Carolina, for the inftruftion and amufement of your friend. C 2 L E T- LETTER VL T CANNOT but laugh, though -** I am angry, at your raillery againft Adolphus Ferdinand j a man whofe greateft foible is, his being in love, which makes him guilty of fome little extravagancies that you treat feverely, though you are the caufe of them. You fhould not complain of him, without hav ing an eye to yourfelf : you fhould not cenfure the effeft, without ad verting to the caufe. Come, you are a ftrenuous advocate for Albert^ and it would be ungenerous IH me not I *> ] not to take the part of Ferdinand , though, I think, he is in no great danger, for, if you did notefteem him, you would notwriteabout him. Ferdinand, you fay, is not pof- fefied of thofe graces of converfa- tion and exterior deportment, by which fome others, that you men tion, are diftinguifhed. I might afk, are not thofe others equally deftitute of the higher and more amiable accomplifhments for which Ferdinand is fo univerfally efteem- ed ? And are you fo avaricious as to defire, and fo unreafonable as to expedt, every fpecies of perfection in your lover ? C 3 The The merit of Ferdinand is of the fame complexion with that of Al bert; and, believe me, my dear girl, it is not for want of abilities that they do not cultivate the graces you allude to : it is, either becaufe they defpife them, or becaufe the pofleflion of them is incompatible with higher attainments. There is a frivolity necefiarily attached to thofe acquifitions, that would ill become Ferdinand and Albert. I do not expert in the laurel, the colours of the tulip. I admire your commending Al bert, and, in the fame letter, cen- furing Ferdinand! If there is any difference difference, it is in favour of Ferdi nand, who, befides a liberal educa tion, has had the advantage of tra velling. And are you really forry, he did not return a coxcomb ? Carolina! but I know you^ and 1 fufpeft you will laugh at me for ferioufly animadverting on what perhaps you wrote in jeft. Remember, that, for the future, when you cenfure Ferdinand, I (hall include Albert ; thus, what you gain on one fide, you will lofe on the other And fo, my philo- fophical cenfor, adieu ! LET- LETTER VII. TT\O you want another lover, -*~* that you enquire fo parti cularly about Werter ? Female curiofity, to be fure ! A new cha- rafter in our little hemifphere, like a comet, always attra&s gene ral attention, and excites much en quiry ; yes, and as many ftrange conjedtures are formed of one as of the other. I have not yet feen enough of Werter to form any certain idea of his character. At prefent, I can only fay, that he feems to be a man [ 5 3 man of tafte and fentiment ^ ftrong- ly attached to the polite arts, and, I dare fay, can write verfes, and probably will when he fees you. His eye is keen, and there is great expreffion in his countenance : it is that kind of expreffion which indicates a lofty fpirit, tempered by the perpetual operation of a philofophic judgment. But it is ufelefs in me to attempt defcribing what you will difcover at a firft interview, for you muft fee him, and that fpeedily ; though, perhaps, you do not know that you are coming to Walheim. I am fure you love my father too well, to re- fufe [ *6 3 fufe a requeft of his j and his re- queft with many compliments to your aunt and yourfelf is, {hat you will favour him with your company a few days, to fuperintend our little family, whilft I vifit a dying friend Yes, my dear Caro lina, poor Therefa W. whom you have often heard me mention with tendernefs, as another Carolina, calls on me to clofe her dying eyes. Melancholy errand! but 'tis the voice of friendlhip : As if an angel fpoke, I feel the folemn found. She is abandoned by her phyficians, and wifhes only to fee me. Dear, dear [ *7 3 dear girl ! I come, as a dove to its wounded mate O, that I could bear " healing in my wings !" Adieu, my Carolina! In your prayers remember poor Therefa, the friend of your Charlotte. LETTER VIII, X^OUR refidence at Walheim * gives me great fatisfa<5tion> becaufe I know every thing will go on as my father wifhes. I found here, a fhadow of my Therefa alas, how wan ! I was impatient to fee her, and, though fhe was afleep C 28 ] afleep when I arrived, I ftepped foftly to her bedfide, and kitted her pale hand, that accidentally lay uncovered, as if on purpofe to re ceive me. Difeafe had robbed her face of all its charms, but delicacy: fhe looked like a fleeping infant. I fat down by her, and wept. A thou- fand tender recolle&ions heightened my diftrefs. At length the dear girl awoke, and with an infantile accent, faid, " Is my Charlotte come yet ?" I took hold of her hand" Thy Charlotte is here," I faid, " thy own Charlotte that loves thee"_She turned her head, and, raifing it a little, looked wifl> fully fully in my face - 5 a faint pleafure glimmered in her blue eyes " In deed, indeed, 55 Ihe faid, " this is my Charlotte O Charlotte ! you fee 5 ' She could fay no more; Ihe grafped my hand, and, reclining her head on the pillow, her eyes were filled with tears. I kneeled by her ; my heart was full ; but tears had already given me fome relief. " Do not add ftrength to your difeafe," I faid, < c by diftreff- ing yourfelf : Think, Charlotte is with you. 55 She put my hand to her lips, and kifled it eagerly. I was glad to find fhe had fo much ftrength " Believe me, my dear Therefa," Therefa," I added, " you will be better." " NowCharlotte is come, 55 Ihe faid, " I lhall be happy : but I muft leave thee, my Charlotte; and thou wilt remember " I in terrupted her, " Nay, do not talk of leaving me : I am come to ftay with thee, and thou wilt be better." I had brought with me a phial of thofe drops that had afforded my deareft mother great relief in her fatal illnefs, I gave fome to The- refa. She raifed her languid head and fmiled : c< Now Charlotte is the miniftering angel," Ihe faid, " who knows . yes, this, indeed, will will do me good : I feel it will." Her lips did not look fo livid, and her cheeks were fuffufed with a pale pink. She was quite placid, and talked with her accuftomed elegance but with a tremulous voice of the fweets of friendfhip, and the power of death, which, fhe faid, could not divide the fouls that love each other. " Death," fhe added, " is like an arrow paffing through the air: as that occafions a momentary divifion , fo death di vides the flame of friendfhip, but itfoon clofes again." In this man ner fhe converfed, till wearinefs brought on fleep. I hope [ 3* ] I hope, and think fhe is better j but fhe is of a fpirit fo calm and fo fortified, that it is difficult to know what (he fuffers. You never knew Therefa W. but fhe is worthy of being known, and you fhall know her. Tell my father, fhe is better ; he loves her. I am afraid you find the children troublefome; but you love them too well to think fo. They will be very good if you tell them, that Charlotte is gone to fetch The refa. Heaven reftore her to them and me ! LET- L 33 ] LETTER IX. T AM glad, my dear friend, to * find that Werter vifits my fa ther ; and that Ferdinand vifits you. Society is the foul of life, and fuch fociety, I hope, will ren der your temporary refidence at Walheim agreeable. I am happy to fay, that Therefa is better, but not removed from danger, if it may be called danger to be fo near heaven. I do not wonder at your folicitude to know the ftory of this dear girl ; though I am rather furprized, my father VOL. i. D has [ 34 3 has not told you, for he loves to talk of Therefa. Probably he is too greatly affedled with her fituation to fay much ; for though adverfity is generally loquacious, grief, efpe- cially in men, is moftly filent. The father of my Therefa was an Englifh gentleman, and lived at Walheim : an intimacy fubfified between our mothers, and the fame day gave us birth ; but Mrs. W. alas, did not furvive the birth of Therefa , and in two years after wards, Mr, W. died, appointing my father guardian to Therefa, and leaving all his eftets in my father's care. The little orphan was re- removed L 35 ] moved to our houfe, and became one of us. It was natural that be tween Therefa and me the tendereft friendftiip fhould arife: " grow with our growth, and ftrengthen with our ftrength*" We flept in the fame bed ; were educated in the fame manner , and both my pa rents regarded Therefa as another Charlotte. When we grew up, we difcovered a fimilarity of tafte and fentiment, which added new joys to our friend- Ihip, and rendered it permanent; for friendlhip not founded on fimi larity of fentiment, can never be durable, We were pleafed with D 2 the C 36 j the fame books, and delighted with the fame mufic. Our days were fpent in the fame purfuits, and our evenings concluded with the fame diverfions.* The happy years rol led fwiftly on -, and a friendfhip thus formed, can end only with life, and then, alas, " 'tis the fur- vivor dies !" The * The connexion between Charlotte and Therefa, naturally reminds one of Shakfpere's Rofalind and Celia, but more particularly of the friendlhip of He lena and Hermia, fo exquifitcly defcribedin * Midfum- mcr Night's Dream.' We, Hermia, like two artificial gods, Created with our needles both one flower, Beth on one fampler, fitting on one cufhion ; Both warbling of one fong, both in one key $ As if our hands, our iides, voices and minds Had been incorporate. So we grew together Like to a double cherry, fecming parted - [ 37 3 The condud of my father, du ring the minority of The'refa, was fuch as highly endeared him to all who knew under what circumftan- ces fhe was left. To be the fole guardian of an infant, poffefled of unknown property, is a delicate truft. Nothing fo foon awakes fufpicion, and excites fcaridal- few' are the guardians who are not en vied by the avaricious, and cen- fured by the malevolent; and or phans, however decently they have been provided for, generally become objefts of pity, from the fuppo- fition, that an uncontrolled guar dian cannot refift the temptation D 3 of of enriching himfelf by thofe arti fices of fraud, which may be prac- tifed without the danger of detec tion. My father was aware of this, and on the death of Mr. W. took fome reputable people who deli vered the property into my father's hands " All this," he faid, " is the property of Therefa, and when fixteen years are elapfed, if provi dence permit, I will refign it to her, if not augmented, at leaft nothing diminifhed." He kept his word. The joint birth-day of our eigh teenth year was folemnized with greater pomp than we had been ac- cuftomed [ 39 ] cuftomedto; an unufual quantity of company was prefent, and for tunately among the reft, three of the gentlemen who had aflifted my father in removingTherefa's effefts. The dear girl and myfelf, directed to drefs with more than even birth day fplendour, were aftonifhed at all this preparation ; but after din ner, my father, in the prefence of the whole company, delivered The- refa's fortune into her own hands, greatly augmented in value. The- refa, who was lovelinefs itfelf, arofe gracefully from her feat, and was going to thank him on her knee, but my father prevented it, by meet ing, C 40, ] ing, and affe&ionately embracing her : " Thank God !" he faid, " I have done my duty. Be as true to thyfelf as I have been to thee, and be happy and God for ever blefs thee!" Having pronounced this, with tears, he retired, to indulge thofe fenfations which convey the pureft blifs, and mock defcription. Indeed we all felt a part of it, and the tear of fenfibility was in every eye. When my father returned, the glafs circulated " To the long life and happinefs of Therefa." She arofe again, and, after thanking the com pany, requefted my father " to continue her father and guardian : let C 4* ] let me, dear Sir," fhe added, " let me continue to enjoy your protec tion, and the friendfhip of my dear Charlotte, and do with this treafure what feems beft to yourfelf." I em braced her, and we retired till the dancing begun. My father gave her a written acknowledgment for the depofit (he left in his hands ; and thus happily difcharged a truft of fixteen years, with honour to himfelf, and advantage to Therefa. Ever fince, (he has lived fome times in Town, and fome times with us j and happily combines what fel- dom are combined great difcretion and elegant accomplifhments. Con- [ 4* ] Conceive then, what I fhould lofe in the death of this amiable girl, and think how her illnefs dif- trefies me. I blufh at the length of this letter; but narrative is prolix, and,as the Frenchman faid, " I have not time to fhorten it."* Adieu ! LETTER X. Ti Jf Y dear Therefa is fo much -*^-*- recovered, that I fhall be at Walheim on Saturday. She kindly afcribes the amendment of her health to my prefence. The fa<5t is, that her ftrength has en- creafed * PafcaU C 43 ] creafed ever fince the phyficians left her. They either miftook the nature of her complaint, or of her conftitution. Nature,however,with little affiftance, has fo far conquered difeafe, that I rejoice in the thought of feeing her once more atWalheim. What felicity in profpeft ! to fee Therefa embrace my Carolina ! and Charlotte made happy by the prefence of both ! May no dark cloud intercept thofe white hours ! LET- [ 44 ] LETTER XL T AM glad you are convinced : -** I believe nothing but experi ence would have convinced you, how much my time is taken up. You now know how my days are divided, and that each hour has its ftated duty. I thank you again and again for your friendly atten tions at Walheim^ you have won the heart of my father : he fays, you are " another Therefa;" and that, I affure you, from him, is a very high compliment. It [ 45 ] It is too true, my dear Carolina, Werter loves me ; and it could not efcape your penetration. His perpetual folicitude refpedting me, you fay, confirmed your opinion. I have for fome time obferved, with fad anxiety, this growing paffion. I have obferved it in a thoufand minute circumflances: it has given rife to a thoufand little incidents that more ftrongly confirm its re ality than innumerable protefta- tions. I cannot but efteem him for his delicacy : he knows I am en gaged to Albert; and though I fee the ardour of his paffion, I learn it only from his eyes; his tongue is filent. Had C 46 3 , Had he not known of my attach ment to my dear Albert ; my dear Albert I fay, for why fhould I hide rny heart from you ? had he not heard me acknowledge the worth of Albert, and mention him with ten- dernefs Charlotte, you know, could never hide her heart : then would it have been criminal in me to have permitted his vifits; to have aflbciated and converfed with him on thofe friendly terms which ba- niQi ceremonious reftraint, and ac knowledge a more than common efteem. And that I have more than a common efteem for Werter, I do not [ 47 3 not blufh to confefs. His tafte and fentiments are congenial with my own-, his converfation enlightens j and he enters into the fpirit of the fciences; he reads Klopftock with feeling, tempered by judgment^ and has tranflated a part of Offian j for, what is better than all, he un- derftands Englifh.* He loves mu- fic, and makes himfelf ufeful by keeping my harpfichord nicely in tune. Tell me, my dear Carolina, tell me, is there any impropriety in * From this paffage, it is plain that Werter, who freaks highly of Oilian in his letters, had Mr. Mac- jhcrfjn'i tranjlaljon 9 and that Germany, as well as Scotland, is a Granger to the original Erfs, C 48 ] in efteeming a man of merit ? But do not think I love No, Albert ! my vows are facred to thee ! I have but one heart: it is thine And though I can love none but thee, furely I may efteem Werter : though that love only can be pure, which glows for one ; yet holy is that friendfhip which glows for all. Tell me, my Carolina, am I in this to blame ? Your Ferdinand I w/7/call him your Ferdinand efteems Werter; and fo, I know, will Albert ; for he loves the fociety of men of ge niusAdieu ! Need I fay my fa ther greets you ? he does more : he loves you. LET- C 4$ 3 LETTER XIL A H, my dear Carolina ! I fee * -** my error, and I acknowledge thejufticeof your remark. An at tachment fofudden and fo ftrong ! I fee my error, Carolina, but could I fee it then ; and could I avoid it? Whilft I converfed with Werter, the idea of paffion never entered my mind. You well know the difpofition of your Charlotte and you will refledt, how often we are made happy or miferable by the accidental concurrence of even tri vial circumftances : of circumftan- ces that, like fmall rivulets, derive VOL. i. E all C > .3 all their power from cafual conjunc tion. But how could I forefee this ? " When you firft difcovered the flame in his bofom " It was then too late to apply your remedy: it was then too late to " throw on the water of cold referve." Wetter knew the candour of Charlotte ; he knew the was incapable of affed:- ing what fhe did not feel and to treat with indifference that affec tion which fhe could not return. And how could I fpeak to him on the fubjedt of a paflion which he had never declared ? When I difcovered the flame in his bofom, and law it fparkle in his C s> ] his eyes , when his vifits became more and more frequent, and his converfations were interrupted by involuntary fighs ; when I faw him come like a bounding roe over the fields, with all the ardour of youth; and when I faw him return, me lancholy and deje&ed, meafuring his pace with funeral fteps ; then, my Carolina, then I began to trem ble : I flood aghaft at the innocent mifchief I had done : like poor vil lagers that from a hill behold their cottages in flames, and can only lament their fall ; fo 1 regarded the pafllon of Werter: I faw, but could not relieve. 1 put confidence 2 in in his reafon , I oppofed theftrength of his philofophy to that of his paf- fion, and derived confolation from the great Englifh poet:* " Violent love, 5 ' he fays, cc foon evaporates ; furious flames quickly expire." Yes, 1 fee my error : I Ihould not have admitted an intimacy with one fo fufceptible of the finer feel ings; yet thefe, alas, were the filken threads that formed the cord * 1 imagine Charlotte alludes to the following paf- .igc in ' Romeo and Juliet :* Thefe violent delights have violent ends, And in their triumph die, like fire and powder Which as they meet confume -- -- Therefore love moderately, long love doth fo. C 53 ] cord of friendfhip; the unfortunate friendfhip of Werter and Charlotte ! Yet, why unfortunate ? let me not " caft the fafhion of uncertain evils :" Werter may conquer his paflion ; Charlotte may lofe the lover, and regain the friend ; and all may yet be well. May heaven fo fpeed the hours ! Adieu ! LETTER XIII. r T^ ELL me, my dear friend, are you of the common opi nion, that love has not the fame influence in this age, it had in that " E 3 which C 54 ] which we call the age of romance? Believe me, I think it has. Human nature, we are told, is the fame in all ages ; and if fo, furely it muft, at all times, be aftuated by the fame paflions, and in nearly the fame degree. You will aflc me, whether I be lieve, that a modern gallant would turn knight errant for his miftrefs ? I anfwer, that if it was the fa- fhion, he would. There is a fafliion for every thing. As manners change, the modes of exprefling the paflions change with them. It is not fo in love only, but in all the paflions. Malice and revenge, which hereto fore C 55 3 fore affumed horrible and tremen dous forms, now wear different afpe&s ; I mean in what are called civilized countries. So that though the " outward figns" of the paf- lions are confiderably varied, it does not follow, that the paffions themfelves are extinft; they con tinue to exhibit themfelves as much as ever, but in different fhapes. It is a kind of fafhion, nay, I know not whether there is not a natural propenfity in us, to depre ciate the age in which we happen to live-, but I think they go too far, who contend, that the nobler paf- fions have not the fame influence they C 56 ] they ever had, and at the fame time affirm, that thofe of a malignant nature have gained an afcendancy. This does not agree with either fat or reafon. I am perfuaded, that thofe who make thefe unfa vourable conclufions, are fuch as are unwilling to attribute adlions to their true motives, and are more ftudious to difcover the agency of malevolence, than to give to others the credit of virtuous principles. Indeed, my dear friend, I doubt not the exiftence of real and ho nourable, nay, of romantic love, in as great a degree as ever we read of j that it is frequently counter feited, [ 57 ] felted, I muft alfo admit. You will next afk me, how we are to diftinguilh the true from the falfe ? But, you know, almoft all the poets have anfwered that queftion.* To * None of the poets have difplayed more happy talents on this fubjecl: than Mrs, BARBAULDJ and I cannot refift gratifying the reader of tafte with the following very elegant and truly poetic ftanzas, by that lady, fo immediately applicable to Charlotte's obfervation. Come here, fond youth, whoe'er thou be, That boafts to love as well as me, And if thy breaft have felt fo wide a wound, Come hither, and thy flame approve j I'll teach thee what it is to love, And by what marks true paflion may be found. It is to be all bath'd in tears, To live upon a fmile for years, To lie whole ages at a beauty's feet; To kneel, to languifh, and implore, And ftill tho' fhe difdain, adore $ It isto do all this, and think thy fufferings fweet. It C 58 ] To them, I muft, therefore, refer you, as the beft philofophers in love. Adieu, my fweet friend ! I fin- cerely hope, Adolphus Ferdinand will convince you, better than my argu- It is to gaze upon her eyes, With eager joy and fond furprlze, Yet temper' d with fuchchafte and awful fear As wretches feel who wait their doom j Nor muft one ruder thought perfume, Tho 1 but in whifpers breathed, to meet her ear. It is to hope, tho' hope were loft, Tho* heaven and earth thy paiiion croft ; Tho* me were bright as fainted queens above. And thou the ieaft and meaneft fwain That folds his flock upon the plain, Yetif thou dar'ft nothope, thou doft not love. It is to quench thy joy in tears, To nurfe ftrange doubts and groundlefs fears; If pangs of jeaioufy thou haft not prov^, Tho' fhe were fonder and more true Than any nymph old poets drew, Oh, raver dream again that thou haft lov'd. If [ 59 ] arguments, that there are hearts which flame with true devotion to the god of love ! LET- If, when the darling maid is gone, Thou doft not feek to be alone, Wrapt in a pleafing trance of tender woe ; And mufe, and fold thy languid arms^ Feeding thy fancy on her charms, Thou doft not love, for love is nouri/hM fo Jfany hopes thybofom fhare, But thofe which love has planted there, Or any cares but his thy breaft enthral, Thou never yet his power haft known j Love fits on a defpotic throne, fc And reigns a tyrant, if he reigns at all. Now if thou art fo loft a thing, Here all thy tender forrows bring, And prove whofe patience longeft can endure ; We'll ftrive whofe fancy fliall be loft In dreams of fondeft pafiion moft, For if thou thus haft lov^d, oh ! never hope a c [60 ] LETTER XIV. TT feldom happens that the lan- guage of panegyric is juft; yet fo excellent is your judgment, that I cannot with-hold my aflent to the character you have drawn of Werter ; but, give me leave to tell you, the picture is not finiihed, and that another dafh of the pencil a dark fhade is wanting to per- fe6t the likenefs. You have feen Werter only with others. Notwithftanding his phi- lofophic reafonings, and the appa rent complacency of his difpofition, he C 6i ] he is the very (lave of a temper naturally impetuous, and, if I may fo exprefs it, rarefied by irritability of nerves, and extreme delicacy, or, at lead, peculiarity of tafle. You will, perhaps, frriile at my idea, that extreme delicacy of tafte is injurious to the temper; and you will tell me, that true tafte not only refines the underftanding, but meliorates the difpofition. Much certainly depends on the natural tendency of the temper ; and ex treme delicacy of tafte in one of a cynical turn, will by no means di- minifh a propenfity to querulous faftidiry : on the contrary, it will add C 62 ] add fuel to the flame of intelle&ual difcontent, in proportion as the tafte is offended, and the feelings are hurt, by the obtrufions of in- congruity, and the abfurdities of ignorance. I cannot call Werter a cynic ; but his infirmity of temper is aug mented by his delicacy of tafte, and the moft trifling occurrences make lafting impreflions on his mind. He has little command over himfelf ; and whilft his natural temper thus overpowers him, how will he ftem the torrent of pafllon ? like the exuberance of his imagi nation, it will know no bounds : as C 63 ] as the one is the fource of his moft exalted pleafures, fo the other, I fear, will prove the caufe of his fevereft afflictions. LETTER XV. know how delightful it is to walk on the terrace un der the chefnut-trees, and fee the fetting fun. Our little manfion is at a convenient diftance from the village, and its fituation on an emi nence gives it an air of cheerfulnefs, unknown to the valley. Werter is charmed with the terrace, and faid, laft lad night, if it would not feem odd, he would every evening contem plate the beauties of the valley, and the meanderings of the ftream, by the fetting fun. " And why," I faid, " will it feem odd ? you know your company is always ac ceptable at the lodge." "Nay," he replied, " I need not tell you why it will feem fo. 'Tis a fad thing, Charlotte, that I cannot contem plate the fetting fun, nor the love- linefs of thofe eyes, but that fome will regard it as a trefpafs " I in terrupted him : " See," I faid, "fee how fwiftly that folitary bird wings over the wood, on our left." The "The flock," faid Werter, " is gone before ; more fuccefsful than this, they have found provifion for their young, and are returned home rich ly laden. This too is a parent: un willing to return without the ex- pefted food, Ihe has flopped beyond the minute of departure; for no thing equals the regularity of birds, but the fun they rife with." " And yet," I faid, " Ihe cannot be late." " O," he replied, " a minute, in her account, is an age : confider, Charlotte, the joy of every little fa mily when the flock arrives! what a chirping through the wood ! whilft one poor brood hears all, VOL. i. F but C 66 ] but fees no parent bird: the fur- rounding joy, and every moment's delay, add to their diftrefs. This the parent bird knows- fhe wings her way with treble hafte " " And if" I faid, but he interrupted me, and, feizing my hand, exclaimed, " O Charlotte! do not make the cruel fuppofition If, after a day's abfence, I afcended this hill to fee the fetting fun, and under thefe {hades found no Charlotte if hur ried away by ruffian hands O God !" " Do not," I faid, " do not fubjeft your imagination to fictitious diftrefs ; it is thus you weary your fpirits, and not only darken, but Ihorten Ihorten your days." Hefighed,and lifting up his eyes towards heaven, " Alas ! " he faid, " when I cannot bear to think of the time when there will be no Charlotte, what days of mifery mud I count when but thou art here, my Charlotte, and I will be compofed." " Werter," I replied, u it is ungenerous to dif- trefs me thus: you know Charlotte's friendfhip is " " It is," faid he, " beyond all price : it binds me to the earth, and gives me a foretafte of heaven." "There was a time," I faid, " I faid, "to put the queftion to a vote, where there is an equal divifion ; but if Carolina were here"" O, then," faid Ferdi nand, " I fhould be a true advo cate, and change fides for the fake of better fees." So pafs our evening walks* The- refa has brought a quantity of new mufic 5 [ 99 II mufic ; and her melodious voice again gives cheerfulnefs to Wal- heim. And why, my dear Carolina, why will you not perfonally join this little band of friends ? Therefa longs to embrace you^ and Wer- ter teafes Ferdinand, by telling him, that you will certainly be the moft domeftic wife in the world, for, fays he, " you fee, neither friend, fhip, love, nor mulic can draw her from home ! " How can you with ftand fuch mighty powers as thefe ? H2 LET* C 100 ] LETTER XXII. PELLS, and preternatural powers ! So you have con verted Solitude into an enchantrefs, by whofe magic you are bound to your lonely caftle ! Therefa and I will come, and drive the forcerefs forth, and fet you free, if we find her power too potent againft your own efforts. For my part, I have .provided an Englifh incantation, which, as it was penned by the greateft magician that ever called " fpirits from the vafty deep," I expedl will be very powerful : and C 101 ] and thus it runs: * c Let me conjure 4 you, by the rights of our fellow- 4 fhip, by the confonancy of our 4 youth, by the obligation of our 4 ever-preferved love, and by what 4 more dear, a better propofer could 4 charge you withal " fly to Wal- heim ! If this v/ill not do, I (hall have recourfe to another expedient. There refides in this neighbour hood, a great magician, whom I will oppofe to your enchantrefs, and I fhall be wofully deceived if he does not break her wand, and diflblve Hamlet. C 102 1 difiblve the charm. You may have heard of himhis name is Adol- phus Ferdinand. So look to it ! LETTER XXIII. TT AM glad you think of coming -** to the ball ; I am likewife glad there is to be a ball. Albert will be here; and novelty may attrad Werter. Yes, my dear Carolina, Albert is on his way to Walheim. The prefence of Therefa will be a vaft relief to me, without which I fhould be at a lofs to know what to do ; for, alas ! I have a new leflbn to to teach my heart. It muft not ap pear to Albert, that I know any thing of the paffion of Werter^ and I hope it will efcape Albert's attention. Indeed, indeed, myCaro- lina, ftrange fenfations arife in my bofom : I wifh, yet tremble, to fee Albert! A gentleman came from the town yefterday on bufmefs to The- refa ; and, as he itaid late, Werter and I walked under the thick chef- nut-trees, and my father joined us, on his return from the town, where he had been a few days. " Char lotte," he faid, " there is a friend of yours on the way to Walheim, and and means to vifityou fpeedily." "Dear Sir," I replied, "who is it ? " " Need I tell you ? " he faid, " Albert." Leaning on Werter's arm, I perceived him to be agitated, and looking in his face, I faw he was pale. I was glad my father did not notice it ; but he went for ward, faying, " I fuppofe I fhall find a houfe-keeper my little Spa- niard " fo he frequently callsThe- refa, whofe mother was a Spanifh gentlewoman of good family. The moon was juft beginning to rife, and I faid to Werter, " Let us follow my father."" O Char lotte !" he replied, what fhall now now become of Werter ? I refpeft Albert, becanfe he loves you; but the idea of his approach chills me. I cannot think of entering the houfe again : I am too much agitated. And muft I then lofe this heavenly intercourfe ? Muft I no more fee Charlotte ? no more pour out my foul before her, and receive com fort from her fmiles ? Shall I not learn to regulate my fpirit by her ferenity ? and muft I wander thro* the world deftitute of light for without Charlotte all is darknefs ! " I replied, " Thefe are words, Werter, which I did not expedt to hear from you, and I know not how to to anlwer them. Indeed, Werter, you diftrefs me. You muft either accept my friendfhipon fuch terms as heaven may afford, or" "Spare," he cried, " fpare the cruel word. O Charlotte ! can any thing equal the thought of reparation ? I could die, my Charlotte nay, and " I interrupted him " Alas, Wer- ter," I faid, " I have been to blame to encourage a friendship fo preju dicial to the peace of both. But friendfhip is the child of peace, and Werter's paffion murders the inno cent offspring of unoffending fym- pathy. Do not," I added, " anti cipate the forrows that may never come : [ "7 ] come: I refpeft you, Werter, take this hand, Werter, nay bathe it not with tears, and let me entreat you I value your friendlhip let me prevail on you if not for your own, at leaft for my peace, forbear a language, which, however it may diftrefs me, I cannot I mqft not regard Will Werter let Charlotte afk in vain ?" " O Charlotte !" he faid, " your goodnefs overwhelms me ; I will endeavour to be happy: indeed 1 ought to be, when Char lotte is my friend."" Charlotte," I replied, " will always bethefriend of Werter, whilft Werter is friend ly to the peace of Charlotte." He He was a good deal compofed, and I knew that by diverting his attention to fome peculiar objet, his mind would become ferene. " How beautifully," I faid, " do the moon-beams dance on the waters ! " But the waters,'* he replied, " are ruffled : fo Charlotte's good- nefs plays upon my heart, and " " Why, Werter," I faid, " why will you let fond imagination deftroy your peace? Is this becoming Wer- ter? Werter whofe mind fhould be calmed by the fuperiority of its powers ? or does philofophy aid paffion ? and muft Werter envy the peace that dwells in yon mife- rable [ 109 ] rable huts where one fees glimmer ing lights over the hills ? Come, Werter," I added, " let not poor hinds inftruft us to be happy : let us join the domeftic circle, and feek felicity in the bofom of friend- fhip -believe me," Ifaid, "wefhall find it there."" Alas ! " he repli ed, " where fhall Werter find feli city, but in Charlotte's friendship ? and Albert " " Albert," I faid, " will efteem the friends of Char lotte, and is not Werter one ?" As we returned, I endeavoured to convince Werter of the advan tages he would derive from the friendfhip of a good and liberal- minded, minded man, who was happy in joining a knowledge of the world with a love of retirement, and whofe judgment was never warped by paffion. " Yes," he replied, fmil- ing, " an excellent contraft to me, who defpife the world, and never difcovered any judgment but in lov ing Charlotte. 5 '" Nay," I faid, 44 1 dare fay your judgment had no thing to do in the matter: love, you know, is involuntary." " My affeftion, I grant you," he faid, " was involuntary -, but it was rea- fpn that riveted the chain." "The chain of friendlhip," faid I, "for what has reafon to do with paffion ?'' I fore- C i 3 I forefaw this would have been a long argument, but we were now at the door, and he was for return ing home : " Come," I faid, " one fong from Therefa" " Let it be plaintive, let it be heavenly," faid he, "let it lead me, as you do, from the earth " Thus, you fee, my deareft Caro lina, my days of trial are haftening on. The return of my dear Albert but whofhall drink from the cup of joy unmixed ? The beverage is immortal, and none but angels tafle it. LET- LETTER XXIV. T TE is come, my dear friend ! *" Albert is come, and I am happy ! Werter has feen, and efteems him. Nor is the efteem loft : Albert returns it, and regards Wer ter as a man whofe tafte can be furpafled only by his eccentricity. Rejoice, my dear girl, for your Charlotte is happy. We want no thing but Carolina, to enjoy every pleafure which can be communi cated by friendfhip, mufic, and retirement. Albert [ "3- 3 Albert has not only paid the laft duties to his father, and fettled all* his affairs, but he has alfo been fuccefsful in his application at court ; and though the place he has obtained, is not fo lucrative as had been expeded, fortunately it re quires no attendance to prevent his remaining here. You would have laughed to have feen how Albert was puzzled what to make of Werter, from the de- fcriptions given by my father andTherefa. When he enquired, whether we had any new vifitants : "O yes," laid my father, "there is Werter, a lover of Therefa's." VOL. i. I " Of C " Of mine, Sir ! " faid Therefa, * c Why, to be fure," replied my fa ther, "for, before you came, he was not here above three times a week} and now, when is he away r" " And what is he ? " Albert afk- ed. " Heaven knows ! " anfwered my father, " but fometimes, I think he is mad/ 5 " Mad ! " cried The refa, " do you think, Sir, he is mad becaufe, as you fay, he is a lover of mine? 5 ' u No, no," faid my father, " I rather think his pocket companion, as he calls his Greek book, has had the moil in fluence 55 " O, then," Albert faid, "much learning hath made him mad/' [ "5 ] mad." " My dear Sir," fald The* refa, " it is no fuch thing : Wer- ter is a man of genius " " Yes ! " exclaimed my father, " he has a very pretty genius at building hou- fes of cards for the children, and rambling in the woods when he fliould be in bed. To be fure, he tunes Charlotte's harpfichord, and that" added my father, " is the only thihg he does like other peo ple."" Why now, Albert," faid Therefa, " I allure you, Werter is a man of extraordinary tafte" " Very extraordinary indeed ! " in terrupted my father, "he has a very extraordinary tafte in making I 2 fpeechcs, C "6 ] fpeeches, and, rather than be out of pradice, I caught him one day making a fpeech to a pear-tree ! !? " To a pear-tree ! " * faid Albert, " what could he fay to a pear-tree r" " Nay," replied my father, " I fup- pofe it wasGreek; I walked on, anci wouldnot interrupt him." "Well," faid Albert, " I cannot tell what to make of him." " O," my 'father faid, cc the day will not pafs with out your feeing him, and then Til alk your opinion, whether he is mad or not ? J> When my father had left table, for this was at dinner, we explained to * Sec Werter, Letter * x x i v [ 7 ] to Albert the charadler of Werter^ who came in the evening, and my father was aftonifhed to hear him and Albert converfe on fubjedls which my father was fully per- fuaded Werter knew nothing about; and when he was gone, my father laid, " Take away his pocket com panion, and don't let him fee The- refa, and I believe Werter might do fomethine." 9 This mutual harmony of Werter and Albert, gives me great comfort; and I hope the paflion of Werter will fubfide into a friendfhip which I fhall always regard as a fource of intellectual pleafure. Once more, my C u 3 my dear Carolina, I can conclude my letter with a cheerful heart; and once more write Adieu ! with out any figh but for your abfence. LETTER T AM afraid, my dear Carolina - mufl have difcovered in fome of my late letters an appearance of vanity. But you will recoiled, that they are chiefly narrative. In relating what has pafled between .Werter and myfelf, I could not avoid giving you his own words ; and little regard is to be paid to the language C "9 ] language of paflion, whether of love or anger. You fee, my dear, how nearly abufe and compliment are allied : fo nearly, that fome- times one is miftaken for the other. I Ihould find myfelf extremely at a lofs to give verbally, an ac count of the circumftances which I communicate to you by letter. But in a confidential correfpon- dence, and efpecially with my Caro lina, I can lay open my heart, and reveal all its weaknefies. I have always regarded letters as a fort of proxies, fometimes inftrudt- cd to deliver fuch fentiments as one C one could not freely communicate otherwife. Some very grave, and fome very light people, look on a correfpon- dence of this kind as very filly. The contents of the correfpondence may frequently be filly enough ; but the praftice is not the worfe for that ; like every thing elfe, it may fometimes be abufed. To put our thoughts in writing, and habi tuate ourfelves to give them lan guage, will foon enable us to do it with facility , and, furely, that is an accomplilhment well worth cuK tivation, But But this is not the only advan tage refulting from a confidential correfpondence. If we made it a rule to give an account of our ac tions, it might be one way of pre venting fome from doing things which they would be afhamed to acknowledge. Hence, the vaft im portance in our choice of friends : virtue, as well as vice, is ftrength- ened by connexion; example comes direftly home, and has its full in fluence on the mind. Thofe, there fore, who contend againfl the con fidential correfpondence of virtuous friends, would prevent their pro- grcfsin a neceflfary accomplifhment, and and deprive them of one of the guards of virtue. Believe me, my dear Carolina, I regard your friendfhip as one of the chief bleffings of my life ; and the communication of your fenti- ments, as one of my moft exalted pleafures. The hemifphere of my friendfhip is very fmall ; I look on you as no lefs than the fun in it : and all your letters as rays, con veying light and comfort to your Charlotte. Adieu, LET* LETTER XXVI, 'XT'OUR Adolphus, yefterday, *- favoured us with a vifit. The converfation accidentally turned on the education of women. PoorThe- refa and myfelf were almoft beaten out of the field of contention. My father enumerated feveral inftances of female indifcretion and ruin 3 which he called the natural confe^ quences of elegant accomplifh- ments. I obferve, that the aged, in general, have this ftrange prejudice againft female education being car ried beyond the common extent. It [ "4 ] It is not difficult to account for this: moft women who have a turn for mental acquifition, are apt to negleft the more common, and, confequently, the more ufeful pur- fuits of life ; and people do not judge, and form their opinion of us, from what we know, but from what we do. Thofe parents may well de claim againft a refined education, who find themfelves and their com mands difregarded, and their opi nions treated with contempt or ri dicule, by their children. Nothing is more univerfally fhunned than, what is called, a learned woman ; as if learning, fo far from being or namental, C 125 ] namental, were adtually a difgrace to the fex. It is fimply the mif- application of it : a woman may, if fhe pleafes, be very learned, vwithout .being ridiculous, I will fairly own, however, that there are not fo many women rendered ami able, as ridiculous by learning, at leaft in this country. But this is owing to literary attainments being uncommon among us. To find ourfelves poflefled of fuperiority in any accomplifliment, efpecially of the mind, is apt to make us vain, and vanity never fails to make us ridiculous. Whilft [ 126 ] Whilft my father argued fen- oufly, Albert, Werter, and Fer* dinand, jocularly fupported him* Therefa did not fail to remind the gentlemen, that all they faid ap plied juft as ftrongly againft them- felves. " For," faid Therefa, "can any thing in nature be more ridi culous than a learned man, with all his whims, prejudices, and odd no tions about him ! I have read of few, who, with all their knowledge, were not the mere flaves of fyftem: fo that there," added fhe, " I think we have the advantage; women, in general, are too volatile to be fyftematic , I will not take the ad vantage [ 12 7 ] vantage of faying, that their minds are not fufficiently contracted to be fyftematicj for, in my idea, all fentimental fyftem implies a certaiji degree of contraction." Albert would not allow of this conclufion; he called fyftem the helm of fcicnce, and gave us a metaphorical dif- cuffion of the fubject, in which he difplayed more ingenuity than I expeded. I think there is great propriety in giving to our fex every poflible ad vantage refulting from education. It muft be recollefted that, as we are precluded joining in the com mon bufmefs of life, we muft ne- ceflarily [ 128 ] cefiarily pafs many hours alone : many of our domeftic employments are fuch as not to require much at tention ; and many hours we are obliged to pafs without any pecu liar object of purfuit. The mind is the moft adttve of all principles : it muft be employed , and furely it is of the utmoft confequence that it be employed on proper objefts : on objefts which education only canfupply; and the more extenfive the education, the more inexhaufti- ble the fource of contemplation. It is generally allowed, that there is in human nature, a propenfity to evil-, that the mind not occupied in [ 12 9 ] in virtuous, will be employed on vicious purfuit. And hence it is, that vice is generally the daughter of idlenefs. Viewed in this light, a fcientific education feems more effentially neceffary to women than to men, their fphere of a<5tion being confined to the domeftic duties, whichprefently becoming an almoft mechanical routine, leave the mind at liberty to indulge itfelf in fcien tific or rational enquiry, or in the reveries of fancy. The idea, therefore, that the pof- fefllon of any accomplifhment can tend to weaken virtuous principle, is extremely erroneous. Singing, VOL. i. K dancing, dancing, playing, exhilarate and expand the rnind : they are the moft innocent and the moft delightful of all our pleafures, and Where virtue is, thefe are mod virtuous. That they are too frequently per verted is too true , but that is no argument againft their excellence ^ for is not every blefling liable to abufe ? As ignorance is a principal fource of vice, fo knowledge is a principal fource of virtue. Let us, then, my Carolina, endeavour to contribute to the happinefs of each other, by furnifhing ourfelves with fuch ideas C 131 J ideas as may expand the mind, and ftrengthenthehabitsofvirtue. Con tinue, my dear girl, to make your Charlotte wiferand better, for one, I hope, will be the natural con- fequence of the other, by com municating thofe fentiments, for which I fo much admire and love you Adieu ! LETTER XXVII. TF I did not love my Carolina, * could I excufe that excefs of praife Ihe beftowed on me in her laft letter ? But I do love her, and K 2 I do [ 13* ] I do excufe it. The extreme par tialities of friendfhip,thoughfound- ed on error, fhould never be regarded as the effufions of flattery, but as proofs of affedtion : thus, what too frequently excites vanity, would ftrengthen efteem. I know, my Carolina, you will riot write what you do not think : and yet, I am not vain of your eulogium : for though your heart dictates, it is not becaufe I defervc fuch praife, but becaufe you love me as I do you dearly. I am glad, however, to find that your fentinaents on epiftolary cor- re- [ -133 ] refpondence, agree with my own, The affeftation of what is called eafc in writing, difgufts me extremely : indeed, more than the folemnity of pedantry; as I prefer formality in drefs to downright careleffhefs. Yet this chit-chat way of writing is much in vogue ; and this coxcomi- cal kind of negligence is greatly admired by thofe who write more for the fake of fhewing their wit (like people laughing to fhew their teeth), than from the impulfe of feeling, or any other laudable motive. I love C '34 3 I love your mode of writing let* ters : they refemble yourfelf (im. ply elegant and friendly. When I receive a letter from you, I kifs it, and fay, " This is my Carolina in miniature." Werter would write nay does write, charmingly ; but his ima gination gets the better of his judg- jgient, and involves him in defcrip- tion fit only for poetical enthu- fiafm. The imagination and the tafte of Werter would have ranked him among our firft poets , but his fancy led him to drawing : and, it muft be confefled, that he imi tates nature with much fuccefs, and [ '35 ] and fele&s his objefts with happy judgment.- But I hear him below, and I muft abruptly bid you adieu ! I believe there is a fatality in it : he generally comes when I am writing about him Again adieu ! LETTER XXVIII. T TT TERTER, yefterday, corn- ^ * menced his pilgrimage in to the mountains. I believe he makes thefe pilgrimages, as he calls them, about once a quarter. He is an enthufiaftic admirer of nature. To afcend lofty mountains, and behold behold the rifing fun; to wander in unfrequented woods; to hear the diftant cataradl: thefe are the fix- preme pleafures of Werter; plea- fures which indicate an expanded mind, and a tafte unvitiated. Indeed, profpedts of this kind, naturally induce elevated contem plation. To fee, as it were, all cre ation before our eyes, cannot but excite magnificent ideas, and lead the mind to an immediate love and veneration of c the firft good, firft perfeft, and firft fair ! ' Then it is, that we cannot avoid contemplating his goodnefs and power : every ob- jet charms and convinces* And then C >37 ] then, my dear Carolina, how fu- blimely wonderful, how pleafingly awful is it to recolleft, that all this profufion of excellence and beauty, this divine union of order and mag nificence, fprung from darknefs and confufion ! Ere the rifing fun Shone o'er the deep, or mid the vault of night The moon her filver lamp fufpended; ere The vales with fprings were watered; or with groves Of oak or pine the ancient hills were covered : Then the great fpirit, whom his works adore, Within his own deep eflence view'd the forms, The forms eternal, of created things, The radiant fun, the moon's noclurnal lamp, The mountains and the dreams, the ample (lores Of earth, of heaven, of nature*- What C '38 ] What pity is it, that confiderations like thefe, do not perpetually op- erate on the human mind, to deter us from the paths of folly ! Com pared with fuch as thefe, how all other objefts fhrink into infigni- ficance ! It is thus, that the mind of Werter has been elevated. To all that is excellent in art; to the communications of philofophy,and the enthufiafm of poetry, he adds an intimate acquaintance with the wonders of creation j a fpecies of knowledge which never fails to eradicate vanity, So So far from being vain, Werter, I think, entertains too humble an opinion of human nature : an opi nion dangerous to inculcate, as it may tend to make us defpife our- felves, and, confequently, render us, in fome degree, inattentive to our conduft, or, at leaft, not fuf- ficiently folicitous to obtain the good opinion of our fellow crea tures. A ftill more dangerous confe- quence refulting from this idea, is, that, regarding ourfelves as duft in the fcaleofexiftence, we may be induced to think ourfelves unwor thy [ 140 ] thy the peculiar proteftion of Pro vidence : of him Who all things form'd, and form'd them all for man ! Indeed, we cannot give way to fuch opinions, without drawing con- clufions too fhocking to mention. They who entertain ideas fo gloomy, and who fancy themlelves too in- fignificant to merit the attention of him, by whofe breath they were called into being, fliould recolleft, that as nothing was created with out his fpecial interpofition, fo no thing can exift: without his fpecial protection, or ceafe to exift with out his fpecial concurrence. In In almoft every thing eccentric, Werter's ideas on many fubjedts foar to a pitch of extravagance that fometimes involves him in contra- diftion. And this is not furpri- fing. So limited is our view, even of terreftrial objedls j fo unable are we to account for the moft com mon operations of nature, that when we attempt to fpeak of mind, it is no wonder we always difcover the moft childifh igno rance j and that the conclufions of our philofophy are often contradic tory to common fenfe. Thus, turn which way we will, we cannot but difcover our depen dence [ 4 3 dence on a ruling power, and the neceffity of fecuring his love as well as his protection. It is the pride of modern philo- fophy at once to exalt and to de grade the human fpecies : at once to prove the unlimited extent of the powers of intellect, and to con tend for their limited duration ; and that fophifm is the moil uni- verfally admired, and thofe philo- fophers as they are erroneoufly called the mod univerfallyefteem- ed, whofe chief aim is to make us believe the grofTeft abfurdities, and to contradict our own feelings ; to divide reafon and common fenfe ; to to give the paffions an unlimited controul ; to extinguifh the love of virtue, that vice and mifery may be univerfally difieminated, and 4 the image of God' reduced to an equality with the brutes that pe-* rifh ! Such, my dear Carolina, are the fublime reveries of modern philofophy ! the offspring of thofe vices, which feek juftifica- tion, and fcorn repentance. Pardon me, my dear girl, for repeating what you fo well know. And do not think me a profeffed advocate for what is termed, c the dignity of human nature.' One thing I am fure of: that let meta- phyficians phyficians fay what they will, great part of our prefent importance de- m pends on ourfelves ; and, ferious as the truth is, our future dignity or degradation will be determined by our own condudl. Again pardon me, Carolina, for the length of this letter. The fub- jeft muft be my excufe : it is your favourite theme : and you will re ceive it with hofpitality, though it approach you in a very uncouth form, The effufions of the mo ment, I know, are always accep table to my Carolina Adieu ! LET- [ '45 ] LETTER XXIX. IT HAD no fooner finiflied my -* laft letter to you, than I in* dulged myfelf in a walk almoft as far as the recefs, under the row of elms that defend our little manfion from the chilling blafts of the eaft wind. I was alone: Albert had ac companied Therefa to the town, and Werter was not returned from the mountains. The evening was ferene : there was that kind of ftillnefs in the air, which infpires melancholy mufings, and fills the mind with philofophic tranquillity. VOL, i. L The 3 The moon was rifing, and by her wan luftre, discovered thegrey mifts flowly afcending from the lakes on my right hand , whilft the woody mountains on my left, were charm ingly diversified with innumerable lights and Ihades. " This fcene," I faid to myfelf, " this fcene, deareft of mothers! is facred to thee : un der the lhade of thefe elms, how often have I been bleffed with thy blefjing ! how often received the inftrudtions of true wifdom!" The remembrance of thofe endearing moments filled my eyes with tears : lifting them towards heaven,! could not help uttering aloud one of thofe fpon- [ '47 ] fpontaneous ejaculations of the heart which draw down bleffings, and diflipate diftrefs. My tears re lieved me, and the recollection of having obeyed her facred, her laft commands, reftored to my mind a melancholy tranquillity. Turning my eyes towards the mountains, I difcovered a man approaching me in great hafte. His head was uncovered, and he had the dry ftalk of a weed in his hand ; the moon fhone on his face, and I faw it was the unfortunate Henry, whofe paffion for me had deprived him of reafon.* I was ex tremely *S Water, Letter LXXX. tremely terrified; and he came with fo much precipitation, that it was impoffible for me to efcape, for I was at the upper end of the ave nue. I, therefore, flood ftill. Poor wretch ! I had no occafion to be alarmed , he knew me not ; but, looking earneftly in my face, afked me, where his Charlotte was ?" c She is not at home," I faid. " I know that," replied he, " I looked all over the hills for her, and Ihe is not there. She was with me laft night, and then I fhewed her the moon, and played upon this pipe her eyes danced it was on the high hill, and we talked to the moon, L M9 1 rnoon. When the States pay mc s I ihall buy the golden ftars for my Charlotte." He fmiled as he ut tered this. " Go thy ways home, Henry," I faid. He burft into tears> and I was afraid he recol* lefted me. " No," faid he, with a heavy figh, and a faint voice, u I am no Henry/ 1 Folding his hands together, and again looking fled- fafcly in my face, whiift the tears ran down his own, he faid, "Ther * is no Henry Henry died when the wind whiftled in the great tree, and the white clouds took Charlotte to the dars" He turned his eyes to wards the flcy, and never faw I fo true C true a pifture of fettled melancho ly : there was a wonderful expref- fion of fadnefs in his countenance. " Alas, poor youth !" I faid, " go home to thy mother/' He again looked at me with great ear- neftnefs, and, in a kind of half whifper, faid, " Thefe things muft not be known to the Princefs ; flie will be angry when fhe knows Henry is dead, and there are no flowers hulh ! the moon whif- pers to Charlotte ; I muft go" Then, putting the forefinger of each hand to his lips, he ftepped flowly away, as one walks acrofs a room where others are afleep. I faw C 15' ] I faw him at a confiderable dif- tance, going in the fame manner, till he entered the wood. The air grew cold, and the wind began to rife. I returned home with a mind full of melancholy reflections. - Poor youth! may HE =who akme is able ^reftore thce to thyfelf, and give thee that fweet peac which forms the fovereign balm to all af- flided minds ! LET. LETTER XXX. *\T OUR heart bleeds, you fay, for the wandering Henry ^ and you complain, that in my laft letter, I left you in a fcene of ex- quifite diftrefs. " The poor wretch,' 3 you add, " was entering the wood, when the air grew cold, and the wind began to rife ;" and you are felicitous to know what became of him 5 and the particulars of that unfortunate attachment which has reduced him to his prefent ftate of mifery. You may be fure, that I fliould have tent fomebody after mm him, had it been neceflary ; but he is fo well known all over this part of the country, that his wanderings are not attended with much dan ger. I never think of him but with extreme commifleration \ and had I, by any word or action, given him the leaft ray of hope, I fhould now be the moft miferable of wo men, He was rny father's fecretary, and difcovered a turn for bufinefs and literature, that might have render ed him refpeftable to fociety, and happy in himfelf. He came very young into the family, and was not long before he was able to fupport his his mother decently. He was mild in his difpofition ; of little conver- fation, and dedicated mod of his leifure time to the daffies. Albert difcovered in him thofe qualities which my father difregarded, and accommodated him with books. He read Italian, and his favourite poet was Petrarch ^ a writer whofe language fafcinates, and whofe images allure. With an imagination thus ftored, with feelings thus refined, and with a tafte for the polite arts, it is no wonder that Henry, at eighteen, fhould be fufceptible of the moft delicate of all paflions. Albert faid, that that Henry wanted nothing but a miftrefs to make him a poet : " He has," faid Albert, all the materials in his compofition ; and when a fpark from the brilliancy of fome female eye, has fet them in a flame, we fhall have German fonnets and elegies in abundance!" But Al bert was deceived \ the paffion ope rated differently on Henry. In- {lead of animating him to poetical flights, it plunged him into the depths of melancholy. Every one perceived a change in him, and every one afligned a different caufe for it. He negle&ed his books j he ihunned company ; was frequently [ '56 ] difcovered in tears ; and feemed to delight in nothing fo much as ramb ling in the neighbouring woods. The general opinion was, that he had injured his intellects by too much application to ftudy. In this ftate of mind, however, he did not negleft his duty : he went through the ufual bufmefs of the day almoft mechanically - 5 for though he com mitted no errors, he did not appear to think of what he was doing. When aiked the reafon of his me lancholy, he would feldom anfwer, but blufhed extremely, and found fome excufe to get away. As As he lived with his mother, and only attended my father at certain hours, it was feldom that I faw him; but when I was told of the nature of his melancholy, and the particulars I have mentioned, I had no doubt of the caufe of his complaint ; and went privately to his mother, and informed her of my thoughts. She faid, that it was impoffible,from his converfation, to guefs what it might be, but ftrongly fufpe6ied it was the effeft of ftudious application ; and had he been inclined to meta- phyfical enquiries, or abftradl fcien- ces, I fhould certainly have joined the the general opinion. Befides, (he added, that he had not, in any man* ner, difcovered a partiality for any particular perfon. This fhook my opinion confiderably ; and I re turned home, without being able to draw any certain conclufion. Soon after this, my birth-day was kept, and, as was ufual, all the fa mily, of which Henry was reckon ed a part, and many of the neigh bours dined with us. As there was fomething very myfterious in the diftemperature of Henry, I was determined to obferve him with at tention, and to endeavour to make fome [ '59 ] fome difcovery, by oblique conver- fation. How I fucceeded muft form the fubjeft of my next letter ; for here I have fcarcely room to add with what fincerity and affe&ion, I am yours. SND OF THE FIRST VOLUME. DAY IISF irt