The Sorrows of Young Werther | Part Two

  “It is decided, Lotte. I shall die, and I write this to you not in romantic fervour but calmly, on the morning of the day on which I shall see you for the last time.”

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, The Sorrows of Young Werther

    So now we have come to it—the second and last of my posts on The Sorrows of Young Werther. Prepare yourselves, for chaos shall follow, because this book is objectively chaotic, and thus mu thoughts are scattered. But first, for those who have not had the redoubtable pleasure of perusing this book, I must provide a Warning.

     

SPOILERS SHALL HENCEFORTH COMMENCE. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

    There, now that that’s out of the way, shall we get started?

    Chaotic is indeed an apt description for this book—as I mentioned in my last post, Goethe used part of his own life as inspiration for Werther’s lovesickness. But more than that, the sheer amount of Werther’s feelings and seeing them in full force is rather overwhelming. From the beginning, Goethe drops little hints as to what might happen at the end—and then it does. But before we get there, a little recap. 

    At the beginning of Part Two, Werther has returned home from Wahlheim, having been urged to do so by his friend Wilhelm, and has found employment with an ambassador of some sort, known as the Envoy. His mind seems to clear, and he seems far more lucid than when he was with Lotte. But he hates his job, and then a class scandal forces him to leave. He tries to go home, but finds it too changed. So, floundering in despair, he does the very thing he absolutely should not have done. 

    He goes back. 

    “—I want to be nearer Lotte, that is all,” he writes, almost a childlike plea. “And I laugh at my heart—and do its bidding” (18 June). 

    Werther you fool!! That is the worst thing to do. At all. Ever in the history of—well, ever. To borrow a quote from Gandalf, “Of all the fools in love, Werther, you are the worst!” He is cementing his own doom. Literally. Because you see, when he returns to Wahlheim, Lotte and Albert are already married. He’s just torturing himself with his obsession, and he becomes dismal, “poor company”, not at all like his former “post-Lotte” self. It even gets so bad as—well, he starts having dreams, he comes to Lotte more and more when Albert is away, content and yet the farthest thing from content when he is in her presence. 

    It’s nearing Christmas. Albert’s gone away on business again, and Lotte is home alone with her younger siblings. Werther comes two days before Christmas, and finds her wrapping gifts for the children. She tells him to leave, but when he refuses, she suggests they read some poetry together. 

    Now, this too is a horrible idea. If you’ve ever read Canto 5 of Dante’s Inferno, you would know this. Do not under ANY circumstances read love poetry with an illicit lover. Werther and Lotte, however, did not seem to think of any such consequences. Werther, being the passionate clinging fool that he is, tries to embrace Lotte. She, not certain of her feelings at all at this moment, pushed him away and demands that he not come back. This cements Werther’s decision. Heavy at heart, he returns home. Never again will he step foot over Lotte’s threshold. 

    He intents to kill himself. 

    After Albert’s return he sends his servant to ask for the loan of his pistols—for he says he’s going on a journey. At this time, this was quite a normal thing. Albert doesn’t even blink and sent the pistols. Lotte, however—she trembles, for she has some idea that something terrible is about to happen. But she says nothing, for expressing her concerns to Albert would mean telling him about the evening before. And she cannot force herself to do that.

    At around midnight, Werther’s neighbour hears a shot. But he dismisses it as thunder, and goes about his business (whatever business he might have at twelve in the morning), little aware that the volatile young man next door has just shot himself in the head. But he is not dead. No! Hours later, his servant finds him motionless on the floor, but his heart is still pumping. Albert and the doctor rush over, but there is nothing they can do. 

And this is why…

    Six hours later, Werther is dead. 

    No priest attends his funeral.

    So, you will ask, what is the point of this story? It’s dark, it’s depressing, it doesn’t make any sense—all of those are true. But I say that despite that, it is worth reading. Not only in order to learn what NOT to do, but also to learn more of human nature and to be wary. For it we’re not careful, we might find ourselves in Werther’s situation, raising Lotte and his misordered love for her (to borrow a term from Lewis) higher even then God, so that his very adoration becomes a god in itself. 

    Lewis warns against this in his Four Loves, and Werther is a perfect example—even more so then Dante (of the Divine Comedy), who in the end recognises his faults and puts an end to them. Werther succumbs to them. And as Christians, we are called to do the very opposite of what he chose to do—to place our faith and our trust and our love in God, to glorify Him in all things, and not let our emotions rule us. 

To Him be the glory!

    Whether or not this was what Goethe intended for this book, it is what I have chosen to take away from it—so that now more than ever, I can be reminded of God’s unending love and Christ’s ultimate sacrifice, so we need not be slaves to sin. 

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What are your thoughts on Werther? Let me know what you think!

Namarië, 

Astrya