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Updated: June 9, 2025
The novels, which we call philosophic by way of expressing their main characteristic in being written to serve a preconceived purpose, or to embody some peculiar views of life, or some aspects of philosophic truth, are three, viz., the Werther's Leiden; secondly, the Wilhelm Meister; and, lastly, the Wahloer-wand-schaften.
If you read his Songs, his Werther, his Wahlverwandtschaften, you feel that extraordinary intimacy I had almost said identification with nature, present everywhere. Werther's love springs up with the blossom of all nature; he begins to sink and nears his self-made tomb while autumn, the death of nature, is in the fields and woods.
About a month after the perfidious Werther's withdrawal, poor Pons left his bed for the first time after an attack of nervous fever, and walked along the sunny side of the street leaning on Schmucke's arm. Nobody in the Boulevard du Temple laughed at the "pair of nutcrackers," for one of the old men looked so shattered, and the other so touchingly careful of his invalid friend.
It immediately created an immense sensation, made a round of the world, and was everywhere either enthusiastically praised or severely condemned. It became the fashion of young men to dress themselves in blue coats and yellow breeches in imitation of the hero, and many of them were moved to follow Werther's example as the simplest way of settling their love affairs.
A memorandum of Werther's upon this point, expressive of his general feelings toward Albert, has been found amongst his papers. "What is the use of my continually repeating that he is a good and estimable man? He is an inward torment to me, and I am incapable of being just toward him."
"No! he declares that it is the language of barbarians and bear-catchers; scolds about us, and despises us, and yet knows as little of us as the man in the moon. He adores his Voltaire. Old Fritz knows the French poet by heart, but Lessing he knows nothing of. He abuses 'Goetz von Berlichingen, and 'Werther's Sorrows." "Oh! I know it all I know the king's adjutant-general, von Siedlitz.
The arrival of Werther's servant occasioned her the greatest embarrassment. He gave Albert a note, which the latter coldly handed to his wife, saying, at the same time, "Give him the pistols. I wish him a pleasant journey," he added, turning to the servant. These words fell upon Charlotte like a thunderstroke: she rose from her seat half-fainting, and unconscious of what she did.
He has written me a great deal lately about a certain Fräulein Teresa, the daughter of one of his professors, who takes such excellent care of her younger brothers and sisters, and who is such a wonderfully economical, housewifely little body just a new edition of Werther's Charlotte.
A torrent of tears which streamed from Charlotte's eyes and gave relief to her bursting heart, stopped Werther's recitation. He threw down the book, seized her hand, and wept bitterly. Charlotte leaned upon her hand, and buried her face in her handkerchief: the agitation of both was excessive.
About a month after the perfidious Werther's withdrawal, poor Pons left his bed for the first time after an attack of nervous fever, and walked along the sunny side of the street leaning on Schmucke's arm. Nobody in the Boulevard du Temple laughed at the "pair of nutcrackers," for one of the old men looked so shattered, and the other so touchingly careful of his invalid friend.
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