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Justin Chen Alienation from nature in The Sorrows of Young Werther In Goethe’s novel The Sorrows of Young Werther, the title character experiences a gradual emotional descent that culminates in the taking of his own life. The epistolary style in which the novel was written, interestingly enough, allows the reader to observe this decline parallels the changing of the seasons, such that he experiences the height of his effusive joy during the summer months, while his suicide comes in the dead of winter. The unavoidable correlation between the season and Werther’s mood raises important questions about his relationship with nature. Indeed, the parallel between Werther’s delineation as a character and his growing alienation from the natural world around him is a central theme of the novel. The opening letters of Werther are filled with an effulgent praise, almost worship, of nature, reminiscent of some of Goethe’s earlier poems (e.g. Mailied, 1775), and later echoed in the early letters of Hyperion to Bellarmin in Friedrich Hölderlin’s novel Hyperion. In the month of May, Werther gushes, “The youthful season of spring cheers my heart” (24), (i) and expresses a feeling that “every tree, every hedgerow is a bouquet” (24). He even describes his great joy in terms of nature: “My whole being is filled with a marvelous gaiety, like the sweet spring mornings that I enjoy with all my heart” (24). His enthusiasm culminates in the following declaration: “When it grows light before my eyes and the world around me and the sky above comes to rest wholly within my soul like a beloved, I am filled often with yearning and think, if only I could express it all on paper…but I am ruined by it. I succumb to its magnificence” (25). This jubilant celebration of nature and its splendor is indicative of what Schiller might have attributed to the “naďve poet.” Werther’s love of the vibrancy of natural life seems to literally overflow from his soul in an effusion of poetic imagery, yet he cannot specifically pinpoint the feeling that has been invoked in him. And it is this inability to transcribe or reproduce his joyous love of nature, to “express it all on paper,” that ultimately seems to trouble him. At this stage in the novel, however, he does not let himself be dominated by his inability to express the infinite splendor of nature. Another passage in the novel that demonstrates the character of Werther’s early love for all things natural is the one in which he finds himself entranced by a rustic scene involving two young children in a secluded village. After observing that his completely mimetic sketch of the scene is “very well-arranged and interesting” (30), Werther writes to Wilhelm, “This strengthened my decision to stick to nature in the future, for only nature is infinitely rich and capable of developing a great artist” (30). Again, the sentiment being expressed here is deep-seated awe of nature, this time for its educational value. It is interesting to note that the two simple farm children are included in Werther’s conception of nature, while he himself is not. Later in the novel, Werther describes children as “so unspoiled, everything still whole” (44), a tribute to their untouched innocence. Yet it is not just children that inspire this feeling in Werther. As he reports to Wilhelm after an encounter with a young woman and her two children, “When I no longer know how to contain myself, the sight of someone like that, who is content within the narrow confines of her existence…who, when she sees the leaves fall, thinks of nothing but that winter is coming… it stills the tumult in my heart” (32). This is the first mention of Werther’s inner conflictedness, and it is interesting to note that simple country folk like the woman or the children can set his mind at rest. Apparently, Werther recognizes his own differences from them. The first indication of Werther’s changing relationship with nature occurs near the end of summer, after he has befriended both Lotte and Albert. He first proclaims in his letter dated August 15th that “one thing is certain—nothing justifies a man’s existence like being loved” (63). Yet curiously enough, he begins his August 18th letter with the morose query, “Why does that which makes a man happy have to become the source of his misery?” (63). In this latter letter, Werther is referring to the way in which the transience of life has ruined his ability to appreciate nature. “My full, warm enjoyment of all living things that used to overwhelm me with so much delight and transform the world around me into a paradise has been turned into unbearable torment” (63-4), he laments, for “the panorama of eternal life has been transformed before my eyes into the abyss of an eternally open grave” (65). The juxtaposition of the two letters forcibly brings Werther’s zealous love for Lotte into the context of his already established devotion to nature, a parallel that is carried through to the end of the novel. Furthermore, the second letter reveals that something about Werther has changed. Whereas he had previously been content with simply viewing nature in all its splendor without being able to capture it on paper, he now senses how small a grasp he has over any of it: he laments, “One’s powers so rarely suffice for one’s span of life but are carried off in the torrent to sink and be dashed against the rocks” (64). The juxtaposition previously mentioned suggests that Werther’s love for Lotte is similarly doomed—she, like the nature he loves, is ultimately unattainable. In this morose letter, Werther first expresses these hopeless impulses. One last important observation to take from this particular passage is Werther’s first use of a backward-looking, almost regretful tone. He recalls to Wilhelm, “Oh, how often I used to yearn in those days to fly with the wings of the crane above me to the shores of the limitless seas and drink the surging joy of life from the foaming cup of eternity” (64). Although “those days” are in reality only a few months past, he speaks with a great sense of distance, in a tone that suggests to the reader some sort of irretrievable loss. Indeed, it seems that his former innocent love of nature has been shattered, and he can never again exhibit the sort of breathless naďveté and awe he once possessed. Yet Werther has not yet been subdued—otherwise, the novel would have been quite a bit shorter. He still finds comfort in “Homer’s glorious verses” (80), a constant theme that seems to represent appreciation for an innocent form of art. Indeed, Werther himself says of the ancient Greeks, “their feelings and poetry were childlike” (85). Thus, when Werther declares, “Ossian has replaced Homer in my heart” in the middle of October, it is clear that another turning point has been reached. The writings of Ossian are associated with suicide, a fact that is obviously relevant for the ultimate outcome of the novel. More important for this paper, however, is Werther’s description of the reasons for his attraction to Ossian’s work. Whereas before he had exclaimed, “Oh to lose oneself in [a forest’s] shade… oh to see the panorama from [a mountaintop],” he now says, “Oh, to wander across the heath in a blustering wind storm… Oh, to hear… the half-fading groans of specters issuing from caves in the hillside, and the keening maiden weeping herself into her grave” (92). The contrast between the two sentiments is striking, and reflects once again a changed relationship with nature. Werther is now clearly much more interested in the morbid, supernatural aspects of the natural world. Whereas he formerly stated a desire to “lose himself” in the mountains and forests, he now “would like to draw [his] sword and in a trice free [his] liege lord from the agonizing torment of a life that is a gradual death and send [his] own soul after the liberated demigod” (93). The nature that Werther evokes is no longer benign and life-affirming, but rather bleak and inextricably linked to death. Perhaps the final turn Werther takes for the worse occurs on a “dreary day” (98) near the end of November. He describes how “a raw wind was blowing down from the mountains and gray rain clouds were rolling into the valley” (98)—again, Werther’s surroundings seem to match his mood. The ensuing encounter that Werther has with a man named Henry incites him to passion. Henry is looking for flowers that clearly do not exist in early winter, and Werther tells him as much. His discovery that Henry is in fact mentally deranged leads Werther to lament, “Poor wretch! Yet how I envy him his dim mind… He goes out hopefully in the winter to pick flowers for his queen and grieves when he finds none and can’t grasp when he finds none” (100). Werther has apparently recognized the analogy between Henry’s situation and his own—just as the flowers will not appear for Henry, neither will Werther’s love of Lotte ever be realized. The difference is that Werther, who is still in possession of his senses, should be able to recognize the inevitable fruitlessness of his efforts. This last episode is accompanied by a final change in Werther’s relationship with nature. In mid-December he describes the “terrible spectacle” (107) of the overflowing river, at which he feels compelled to gaze. He writes, “I was overcome by a great trembling and, once more, a yearning. With my arms open wide, I stood facing the abyss…and was lost in the bliss of hurling my torment and suffering into it to be carried off foaming, like the waves” (108). No longer is Werther content to view nature at a distance—he feels an urge to give himself up to that very power which he had previously described as “infinitely rich and capable of developing a great artist.” His evolving relationship with nature has finally reached its end, for Werther cannot overcome what he sees as the futility of pursuing those parallel loves of his life—namely, the natural world, and Lotte. One last touching passage remains to remind the reader of Werther’s former love of nature that relates to the notion of regret or remembrance discussed earlier. In the suicide note that Werther composes for Lotte, he writes, “When you climb the hilltop on a beautiful summer’s evening, think of me… see how the wind causes the tall grass to wave in the light of the setting sun. I was so calm when I began writing this, and now—now I am crying like a child because I can see it all so vividly” (113). The scene described by Werther is extremely poignant, not just because he is about to die, but also because it reminds the reader of the great love he formerly had for nature. One is immediately reminded of the opening letters of the novel in which he expressed such aesthetic adoration for the tiniest details of the natural world—including individual blades of grass. As with the passage in which Werther describes how he “used to yearn in those days to fly with the wings of the crane,” he now places a great deal of distance between himself and the happy images of nature that seem so long ago to him. Yet this time, he cannot even think about that memory without being reduced to tears. This is the final signal for the reader that Werther has finally come to terms with his own death and separation from his once-idealistic view of nature. As the days grow darker in The Sorrows of Young Werther, so too does the title character’s relationship with nature. Goethe sets up the parallel between Werther and the seasons of the year so that the reader can observe how the decline of his emotional well-being is also reflected in his thoughts on the natural world around him. As the novel progresses, Werther begins to realize his estrangement from his once-idyllic view of nature, and he begins to distance himself more and more from that view. In the end, he does not sacrifice himself to the power of the natural world by hurling himself into the flood, but rather perceives his inability to realize his dual loves of nature and Lotte, and ends his life in a gesture of permanent alienation from them both.
i) Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von. The Sorrows of Young Werther. Translated by Catherine Hutter. Penguin Books USA, Inc. New York, NY. 1962. |