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少年维特之烦恼(英文版)-第11部分

小说: 少年维特之烦恼(英文版) 字数: 每页4000字

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a pang, and the very children have but one wish; that is, that I should
visit them again to…morrow。 I went this afternoon to tune Charlotte's
piano。 But I could not do it, for the little ones insisted on my telling
them a story; and Charlotte herself urged me to satisfy them。 I waited
upon them at tea, and they are now as fully contented with me as with
Charlotte ; and I told them my very best tale of the princess who was
waited upon by dwarfs。 I improve myself by this exercise, and am quite
surprised at the impression my stories create。 If I sometimes invent an
incident which I forget upon the next narration , they remind one directly
that the story was different before ; so that I now endeavour to relate
with exactness the same anecdote in the same monotonous tone, which never
changes。 I find by this , how much an author injures his works by altering
them, even though they be improved in a poetical point of view。 The first
impression is readily received。 We are so constituted that we believe
the most incredible things; and, once they are engraved upon the memory,
woe to him who would endeavour to efface them。

  AUGUST 18。 Must it ever be thus ,—— that the source of our happiness
must also be the fountain of our misery ? The full and ardent sentiment
which animated my heart with the love of nature , overwhelming me with
a torrent of delight, and which brought all paradise before me , has
now bee an insupportable torment , a demon which perpetually pursues
and harasses me。 When in bygone days I gazed from these rocks upon yonder
mountains across the river, and upon the green , flowery valley before
me, and saw alI nature budding and bursting around ; the hills clothed
from foot to peak with tall , thick forest trees ; the valleys in all
their varied windings , shaded with the loveliest woods; and the soft
river gliding along amongst the lisping reeds , mirroring the beautiful
clouds which the soft evening breeze wafted across the sky,—— when
I heard the groves about me melodious with the music of birds , and saw
the million swarms of insects dancing in the last golden beams of the
sun , whose setting rays awoke the humming beetles from their grassy
beds, whilst the subdued tumult around directed my attention to the ground,
and I there observed the arid rock pelled to yield nutriment to the
dry moss, whilst the heath flourished upon the barren sands below me ,
all this displayed to me the inner warmth which animates all nature ,
and filled and glowed within my heart。 I felt myself exalted by this overflowing
fulness to the perception of the Godhead, and the glorious forms of an
infinite universe became visible to my soul ! Stupendous mountains enpassed
me, abysses yawned at my feet, and cataracts fell headlong down before
me; impetuous rivers rolled through the plain, and rocks and mountains
resounded from afar。 In the depths of the earth I saw innumerable powers
in motion , and multiplying to infinity; whilst upon its surface, and
beneath the heavens , there teemed ten thousand varieties of living creatures。
Everything around is alive with an infinite number of forms ; while mankind
fly for security to their petty houses, from the shelter of which they
rule in their imaginations over the wide…extended universe。 Poor fool !
in whose petty estimation all things are little。 From the inaccessible
mountains , across the desert which no mortal foot has trod, far as
the confines of the unknown ocean , breathes the spirit of the eternal
Creator ; and every atom to which he has given existence finds favour
in his sight。 Ah, how often at that time has the flight of a bird, soaring
above my head , inspired me with the desire of being transported to the
shores of the immeasurable waters , there to quaff the pleasures of life
from the foaming goblet of the Infinite , and to partake , if but for
a moment even , with the confined powers of my soul, the beatitude of
that Creator who acplishes all things in himself , and through himself!

  My dear friend, the bare recollection of those hours still consoles
me。 Even this effort to recall those ineffable sensations , and give
them utterance, exalts my soul above itself, and makes me doubly feel
the intensity of my present anguish。

  It is as if a curtain had been drawn from before my eyes, and, instead
of prospects of eternal life, the abyss of an ever open grave yawned
before me。 Can we say of anything that it exists when all passes away ,
when time , with the speed of a storm, carries all things onward,—
— and our transitory existence , hurried along by the torrent , is
either swallowed up by the waves or dashed against the rocks? There is
not a moment but preys upon you ,—— and upon all around you, not a
moment in which you do not yourself bee a destroyer。 The most innocent
walk deprives of life thousands of poor insects : one step destroys the
fabric of the industrious ant , and converts a little world into chaos。
No: it is not the great and rare calamities of the world , the floods
which sweep away whole villages , the earthquakes which swallow up our
towns , that affect me。 My heart is wasted by the thought of that destructive
power which lies concealed in every part of universal nature。 Nature has
formed nothing that does not consume itself , and every object near it
: so that, surrounded by earth and air, and all the active powers,
I wander on my way with aching heart; and the universe is to me a fearful
monster , for ever devouring its own offspring。

  AUGUST 21。 In vain do I stretch out my arms toward her when I awaken
in the morning from my weary slumbers。 In vain do I seek for her at night
in my bed , when some innocent dream has happily deceived me , and placed
her near me in the fields , when I have seized her hand and covered it
with countless kisses。 And when I feel for her in the half confusion of
sleep , with the happy sense that she is near, tears flow from my oppressed
heart ; and, bereft of all fort, I weep over my future woes。

  AUGUST 22。 What a misfortune, Wilhelm! My active spirits have degenerated
into contented indolence。 I cannot be idle, and yet I am unable to set
to work。 I cannot think : I have no longer any feeling for the beauties
of nature , and books are distasteful to me。 Once we give ourselves up,
we are totally lost。 Many a time and oft I wish I were a mon labourer
; that , awakening in the morning , I might have but one prospect,
one pursuit , one hope , for the day which has dawned。 I often envy
Albert when I see him buried in a heap of papers and parchments , and
I fancy I should be happy were I in his place。 Often impressed with this
feeling I have been on the point of writing to you and to the minister,
for the appointment at the embassy, which you think I might obtain。 I
believe I might procure it。 The minister has long shown a regard for me,
and has frequently urged me to seek employment。 It is the business of
an hour only。 Now and then the fable of the horse recurs to me。 Weary
of liberty, he suffered himself to be saddled and bridled, and was ridden
to death for his pains。 I know not what to determine upon。 For is not
this anxiety for change the consequence of that restless spirit which
would pursue me equally in every situation of life?

  AUGUST 28。 If my ills would admit of any cure , they would certainly
be cured here。 This is my birthday, and early in the morning I received
a packet from Albert。 Upon opening it , I found one of the pink ribbons
which Charlotte wore in her dress the first time I saw her, and which
I had several times asked her to give me。 With it were two volumes in
duodecimo of Wetstein's 〃Homer,〃 a book I had often wished for , to
save me the inconvenience of carrying the large Ernestine edition with
me upon my walks。 You see how they anticipate my wishes , how well they
understand all those little attentions of friendship, so superior to
the costly presents of the great, which are humiliating。 I kissed the
ribbon a thousand times , and in every breath inhaled the remembrance
of those happy and irrevocable days which filled me with the keenest joy。
Such, Wilhelm, is our fate。 I do not murmur at it : the flowers of
life are but visionary。 How many pass away, and leave no trace behind
—— how few yield any fruit—— and the fruit itself , how rarely does
it ripen! And yet there are flowers enough ! and is it not strange,
my friend , that we should suffer the little that does really ripen,
to rot, decay, and perish unenjoyed ? Farewell ! This is a glorious
summer。 I often climb into the trees in Charlotte's orchard , and shake
down the pears that hang on the highest branches。 She stands below, and
catches them as they fall。

  AUGUST 3O。 Unhappy being that I am! Why do I thus deceive myself ?
What is to e of all this wild, aimless, endless passion? I cannot
pray except to her。 My imagination sees nothing but her : all surrounding
objects are of no account , except as they relate to her。 In this dreamy
state I enjoy many happy hou

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