DECEMBER 12.
Dear Wilhelm, I am reduced to the condition of those unfortunate wretches1 who believe they are pursued by an evil spirit. Sometimes I am oppressed, not by apprehension3 or fear, but by an inexpressible internal sensation, which weighs upon my heart, and impedes4 my breath! Then I wander forth5 at night, even in this tempestuous6 season, and feel pleasure in surveying the dreadful scenes around me.
Yesterday evening I went forth. A rapid thaw7 had suddenly set in: I had been informed that the river had risen, that the brooks8 had all overflowed9 their banks, and that the whole vale of Walheim was under water! Upon the stroke of twelve I hastened forth. I beheld10 a fearful sight. The foaming11 torrents12 rolled from the mountains in the moonlight, -- fields and meadows, trees and hedges, were confounded together; and the entire valley was converted into a deep lake, which was agitated14 by the roaring wind! And when the moon shone forth, and tinged16 the black clouds with silver, and the impetuous torrent13 at my feet foamed17 and resounded18 with awful and grand impetuosity, I was overcome by a mingled19 sensation of apprehension and delight. With extended arms I looked down into the yawning abyss, and cried, "Plunge20!'" For a moment my senses forsook21 me, in the intense delight of ending my sorrows and my sufferings by a plunge into that gulf22! And then I felt as if I were rooted to the earth, and incapable23 of seeking an end to my woes24! But my hour is not yet come: I feel it is not. O Wilhelm, how willingly could I abandon my existence to ride the whirlwind, or to embrace the torrent! and then might not rapture26 perchance be the portion of this liberated27 soul?
I turned my sorrowful eyes toward a favourite spot, where I was accustomed to sit with Charlotte beneath a willow28 after a fatiguing29 walk. Alas30! it was covered with water, and with difficulty I found even the meadow. And the fields around the hunting-lodge, thought I. Has our dear bower31 been destroyed by this unpitying storm? And a beam of past happiness streamed upon me, as the mind of a captive is illumined by dreams of flocks and herds32 and bygone joys of home! But I am free from blame. I have courage to die! Perhaps I have, -- but I still sit here, like a wretched pauper33, who collects fagots, and begs her bread from door to door, that she may prolong for a few days a miserable34 existence which she is unwilling35 to resign.
DECEMBER 15.
What is the matter with me, dear Wilhelm? I am afraid of myself! Is not my love for her of the purest, most holy, and most brotherly nature? Has my soul ever been sullied by a single sensual desire? but I will make no protestations. And now, ye nightly visions, how truly have those mortals understood you, who ascribe your various contradictory36 effects to some invincible37 power! This night I tremble at the avowal38 -- I held her in my arms, locked in a close embrace: I pressed her to my bosom40, and covered with countless41 kisses those dear lips which murmured in reply soft protestations of love. My sight became confused by the delicious intoxication43 of her eyes. Heavens! is it sinful to revel44 again in such happiness, to recall once more those rapturous moments with intense delight? Charlotte! Charlotte! I am lost! My senses are bewildered, my recollection is confused, mine eyes are bathed in tears -- I am ill; and yet I am well -- I wish for nothing -- I have no desires -- it were better I were gone.
Under the circumstances narrated46 above, a determination to quit this world had now taken fixed47 possession of Werther's soul. Since Charlotte's return, this thought had been the final object of all his hopes and wishes; but he had resolved that such a step should not be taken with precipitation, but with calmness and tranquillity48, and with the most perfect deliberation.
His troubles and internal struggles may be understood from the following fragment, which was found, without any date, amongst his papers, and appears to have formed the beginning of a letter to Wilhelm.
"Her presence, her fate, her sympathy for me, have power still to extract tears from my withered49 brain.
"One lifts up the curtain, and passes to the other side, -- that is all! And why all these doubts and delays? Because we know not what is behind -- because there is no returning -- and because our mind infers that all is darkness and confusion, where we have nothing but uncertainty50."
His appearance at length became quite altered by the effect of his melancholy51 thoughts; and his resolution was now finally and irrevocably taken, of which the following ambiguous letter, which he addressed to his friend, may appear to afford some proof.
DECEMBER 2O.
I am grateful to your love, Wilhelm, for having repeated your advice so seasonably. Yes, you are right: it is undoubtedly52 better that I should depart. But I do not entirely53 approve your scheme of returning at once to your neighbourhood; at least, I should Iike to make a little excursion on the way, particularly as we may now expect a continued frost, and consequently good roads. I am much pleased with your intention of coming to fetch me; only delay your journey for a fortnight, and wait for another letter from me. One should gather nothing before it is ripe, and a fortnight sooner or later makes a great difference. Entreat54 my mother to pray for her son, and tell her I beg her pardon for all the unhappiness I have occasioned her. It has ever been my fate to give pain to those whose happiness I should have promoted. Adieu, my dearest friend. May every blessing55 of Heaven attend you! Farewell.
We find it difficult to express the emotions with which Charlotte's soul was agitated during the whole of this time, whether in relation to her husband or to her unfortunate friend; although we are enabled, by our knowledge of her character, to understand their nature.
It is certain that she had formed a determination, by every means in her power to keep Werther at a distance; and, if she hesitated in her decision, it was from a sincere feeling of friendly pity, knowing how much it would cost him, indeed, that he would find it almost impossible to comply with her wishes. But various causes now urged her to be firm. Her hushand preserved a strict silence about the whole matter; and she never made it a subject of conversation, feeling bound to prove to him by her conduct that her sentiments agreed with his.
The same day, which was the Sunday before Christmas, after Werther had written the last-mentioned letter to his friend, he came in the evening to Charlotte's house, and found her alone. She was busy preparing some little gifts for her brothers and sisters, which were to be distributed to them on Christmas Day. He began talking of the delight of the children, and of that age when the sudden appearance of the Christmas-tree, decorated with fruit and sweetmeats, and lighted up with wax candles, causes such transports of joy. "You shall have a gift too, if you behave well," said Charlotte, hiding her embarrassment56 under sweet smile. "And what do you call behaving well? What should I do, what can I do, my dear Charlotte?" said he. "Thursday night," she answered, "is Christmas Eve. The children are all to be here, and my father too: there is a present for each; do you come likewise, but do not come before that time." Werther started. "I desire you will not: it must be so," she continued. "I ask it of you as a favour, for my own peace and tranquillity. We cannot go on in this manner any longer." He turned away his face walked hastily up and down the room, muttering indistinctly, "We cannot go on in this manner any longer!" Charlotte, seeing the violent agitation57 into which these words had thrown him, endeavoured to divert his thoughts by different questions, but in vain. "No, Charlotte!" he exclaimed; "I will never see you any more!" "And why so?" she answered. "We may -- we must see each other again; only let it be with more discretion58. Oh! why were you born with that excessive, that ungovernable passion for everything that is dear to you?" Then, taking his hand, she said, "I entreat of you to be more calm: your talents, your understanding, your genius, will furnish you with a thousand resources. Be a man, and conquer an unhappy attachment59 toward a creature who can do nothing but pity you." He bit his lips, and looked at her with a gloomy countenance60. She continued to hold his hand. "Grant me but a moment's patience, Werther," she said. "Do you not see that you are deceiving yourself, that you are seeking your own destruction? Why must you love me, me only, who belong to another? I fear, I much fear, that it is only the impossibility of possessing me which makes your desire for me so strong." He drew back his hand, whilst he surveyed her with a wild and angry look. "'Tis well!" he exclaimed, "'tis very well! Did not Albert furnish you with this reflection? It is profound, a very profound remark." "A reflection that any one might easily make," she answered; "and is there not a woman in the whole world who is at liberty, and has the power to make you happy? Conquer yourself: look for such a being, and believe me when I say that you will certainly find her. I have long felt for you, and for us all: you have confined yourself too long within the limits of too narrow a circle. Conquer yourself; make an effort: a short journey will be of service to you. Seek and find an object worthy61 of your love; then return hither, and let us enjoy together all the happiness of the most perfect friendship."
"This speech," replied Werther with a cold smile, "this speech should be printed, for the benefit of all teachers. My dear Charlotte, allow me but a short time longer, and all will be well." "But however, Werther," she added, "do not come again before Christmas." He was about to make some answer, when Albert came in. They saluted62 each other coldly, and with mutual63 embarrassment paced up and down the room. Werther made some common remarks; Albert did the same, and their conversation soon dropped. Albert asked his wife about some household matters; and, finding that his commissions were not executed, he used some expressions which, to Werther's ear, savoured of extreme harshness. He wished to go, but had not power to move; and in this situation he remained till eight o'clock, his uneasiness and discontent continually increasing. At length the cloth was laid for supper, and he took up his hat and stick. Albert invited him to remain; but Werther, fancying that he was merely paying a formal compliment, thanked him coldly, amd left the house.
Werther returned home, took the candle from his servant, and retired65 to his room alone. He talked for some time with great earnestness to himself, wept aloud, walked in a state of great excitement through his chamber66; till at length, without undressing, he threw himself on the bed, where he was found by his servant at eleven o'clock, when the latter ventured to enter the room, and take off his boots. Werther did not prevent him, but forbade him to come in the morning till he should ring.
On Monday morning, the 21st of December, he wrote to Charlotte the following letter, which was found, sealed, on his bureau after his death, and was given to her. I shall insert it in fragments; as it appears, from several circumstances, to have been written in that manner.
"It is all over, Charlotte: I am resolved to die! I make this declaration deliberately68 and coolly, without any romantic passion, on this morning of the day when I am to see you for the last time. At the moment you read these lines, O best of women, the cold grave will hold the inanimate remains70 of that restless and unhappy being who, in the last moments of his existence, knew no pleasure so great as that of conversing71 with you! I have passed a dreadful night or rather, let me say, a propitious72 one; for it has given me resolution, it has fixed my purpose. I am resolved to die. When I tore myself from you yesterday, my senses were in tumult73 and disorder74; my heart was oppressed, hope and pleasure had fled from me for ever, and a petrifying75 cold had seized my wretched being. I could scarcely reach my room. I threw myself on my knees; and Heaven, for the last time, granted me the consolation76 of shedding tears. A thousand ideas, a thousand schemes, arose within my soul; till at length one last, fixed, final thought took possession of my heart. It was to die. I lay down to rest; and in the morning, in the quiet hour of awakening77, the same determination was upon me. To die! It is not despair: it is conviction that I have filled up the measure of my sufferings, that I have reached my appointed term, and must sacrifice myself for thee. Yes, Charlotte, why should I not avow39 it? One of us three must die: it shall be Werther. O beloved Charlotte! this heart, excited by rage and fury, has often conceived the horrid78 idea of murdering your husband -- you -- myself! The lot is cast at length. And in the bright, quiet evenings of summer, when you sometimes wander toward the mountains, let your thoughts then turn to me: recollect45 how often you have watched me coming to meet you from the valley; then bend your eyes upon the churchyard which contains my grave, and, by the light of the setting sun, mark how the evening breeze waves the tall grass which grows above my tomb. I was calm when I began this letter, but the recollection of these scenes makes me weep like a child." About ten in the morning, Werther called his servant, and, whilst he was dressing67, told him that in a few days he intended to set out upon a journey, and bade him therefore lay his clothes in order, and prepare them for packing up, call in all his accounts, fetch home the books he had lent, and give two months' pay to the poor dependants79 who were accustomed to receive from him a weekly allowance.
He breakfasted in his room, and then mounted his horse, and went to visit the steward80, who, however, was not at home. He walked pensively81 in the garden, and seemed anxious to renew all the ideas that were most painful to him.
The children did not suffer him to remain alone long. They followed him, skipping and dancing before him, and told him, that after to-morrow and tomorrow and one day more, they were to receive their Christmas gift from Charlotte; and they then recounted all the wonders of which they had formed ideas in their child imaginations. "Tomorrow and tomorrow," said he, "and one day more!" And he kissed them tenderly. He was going; but the younger boy stopped him, to whisper something in his ear. He told him that his elder brothers had written splendid New-Year's wishes so large! one for papa, and another for Albert and Charlotte, and one for Werther; and they were to be presented early in the morning, on New Year's Day. This quite overcame him. He made each of the children a present, mounted his horse, left his compliments for papa and mamma, and, with tears in his eyes, rode away from the place.
He returned home about five o'clock, ordered his servant to keep up his fire, desired him to pack his books and linen82 at the bottom of the trunk, and to place his coats at the top. He then appears to have made the following addition to the letter addressed to Charlotte:
"You do not expect me. You think I will obey you, and not visit you again till Christmas Eve. O Charlotte, today or never! On Christmas Eve you will hold this paper in your hand; you will tremble, and moisten it with your tears. I will -- I must! Oh, how happy I feel to be determined83!"
In the meantime, Charlotte was in a pitiable state of mind. After her last conversation with Werther, she found how painful to herself it would be to decline his visits, and knew how severely84 he would suffer from their separation.
She had, in conversation with Albert, mentioned casually85 that Werther would not return before Christmas Eve; and soon afterward86 Albert went on horseback to see a person in the neighbourhood, with whom he had to transact87 some business which would detain him all night.
Charlotte was sitting alone. None of her family were near, and she gave herself up to the reflections that silently took possession of her mind. She was for ever united to a husband whose love and fidelity88 she had proved, to whom she was heartily89 devoted90, and who seemed to be a special gift from Heaven to ensure her happiness. On the other hand, Werther had become dear to her. There was a cordial unanimity91 of sentiment between them from the very first hour of their acquaintance, and their long association and repeated interviews had made an indelible impression upon her heart. She had been accustomed to communicate to him every thought and feeling which interested her, and his absence threatened to open a void in her existence which it might be impossible to fill. How heartily she wished that she might change him into her brother, -- that she could induce him to marry one of her own friends, or could reestablish his intimacy92 with Albert.
She passed all her intimate friends in review before her mind, but found something objectionable in each, and could decide upon none to whom she would consent to give him.
Amid all these considerations she felt deeply but indistinctly that her own real but unexpressed wish was to retain him for herself, and her pure and amiable93 heart felt from this thought a sense of oppression which seemed to forbid a prospect94 of happiness. She was wretched: a dark cloud obscured her mental vision.
It was now half-past six o'clock, and she heard Werther's step on the stairs. She at once recognised his voice, as he inquired if she were at home. Her heart beat audibly -- we could almost say for the first time -- at his arrival. It was too late to deny herself; and, as he entered, she exclaimed, with a sort of ill concealed96 confusion, "You have not kept your word!" "I promised nothing," he answered. "But you should have complied, at least for my sake," she continued. " I implore97 you, for both our sakes."
She scarcely knew what she said or did; and sent for some friends, who, by their presence, might prevent her being left alone with Werther. He put down some books he had brought with him, then made inquiries98 about some others, until she began to hope that her friends might arrive shortly, entertaining at the same time a desire that they might stay away.
At one moment she felt anxious that the servant should remain in the adjoining room, then she changed her mind. Werther, meanwhile, walked impatiently up and down. She went to the piano, and determined not to retire. She then collected her thoughts, and sat down quietly at Werther's side, who had taken his usual place on the sofa.
"Have you brought nothing to read?" she inquired. He had nothing. "There in my drawer," she continued, "you will find your own translation of some of the songs of Ossian. I have not yet read them, as I have still hoped to hear you recite them; but, for some time past, I have not been able to accomplish such a wish." He smiled, and went for the manuscript, which he took with a shudder99. He sat down; and, with eyes full of tears, he began to read.
"Star of descending100 night! fair is thy light in the west! thou liftest thy unshorn head from thy cloud; thy steps are stately on thy hill. What dost thou behold101 in the plain? The stormy winds are laid. The murmur42 of the torrent comes from afar. Roaring waves climb the distant rock. The flies of evening are on their feeble wings: the hum of their course is on the field. What dost thou behold, fair light? But thou dost smile and depart. The waves come with joy around thee: they bathe thy lovely hair. Farewell, thou silent beam! Let the light of Ossian's soul arise!
"And it does arise in its strength! I behold my departed friends. Their gathering102 is on Lora, as in the days of other years. Fingal comes like a watery103 column of mist! his heroes are around: and see the bards105 of song, gray-haired Ullin! stately Ryno! Alpin with the tuneful voice: the soft complaint of Minona! How are ye changed, my friends, since the days of Selma's feast! when we contended, like gales106 of spring as they fly along the hill, and bend by turns the feebly whistling grass.
"Minona came forth in her beauty, with downcast look and tearful eye. Her hair was flying slowly with the blast that rushed unfrequent from the hill. The souls of the heroes were sad when she raised the tuneful voice. Oft had they seen the grave of Salgar, the dark dwelling108 of white-bosomed Colma. Colma left alone on the hill with all her voice of song! Salgar promised to come! but the night descended109 around. Hear the voice of Colma, when she sat alone on the hill!
"Colma. It is night: I am alone, forlorn on the hill of storms. The wind is heard on the mountain. The torrent is howling down the rock. No hut receives me from the rain: forlorn on the hill of winds!
"Rise moon! from behind thy clouds. Stars of the night, arise! Lead me, some light, to the place where my love rests from the chase alone! His bow near him unstrung, his dogs panting around him! But here I must sit alone by the rock of the mossy stream. The stream and the wind roar aloud. I hear not the voice of my love! Why delays my Salgar; why the chief of the hill his promise? Here is the rock and here the tree! here is the roaring stream! Thou didst promise with night to be here. Ah! whither is my Salgar gone? With thee I would fly from my father, with thee from my brother of pride. Our race have long been foes111: we are not foes, O Salgar!
"Cease a little while, O wind! stream, be thou silent awhile! let my voice be heard around! let my wanderer hear me! Salgar! it is Colma who calls. Here is the tree and the rock. Salgar, my love, I am here! Why delayest thou thy coming? Lo! the calm moon comes forth. The flood is bright in the vale. The rocks are gray on the steep. I see him not on the brow. His dogs come not before him with tidings of his near approach. Here I must sit alone!
"Who lie on the heath beside me? Are they my love and my brother? Speak to me, O my friends! To Colma they give no reply. Speak to me: I am alone! My soul is tormented112 with fears. Ah, they are dead! Their swords are red from the fight. O my brother! my brother! why hast thou slain113 my Salgar! Why, O Salgar, hast thou slain my brother! Dear were ye both to me! what shall I say in your praise? Thou wert fair on the hill among thousands! he was terrible in fight! Speak to me! hear my voice! hear me, sons of my love! They are silent! silent for ever! Cold, cold, are their breasts of clay! Oh, from the rock on the hill, from the top of the windy steep, speak, ye ghosts of the dead! Speak, I will not be afraid! Whither are ye gone to rest? In what cave of the hill shall I find the departed? No feeble voice is on the gale107: no answer half drowned in the storm!
"I sit in my grief: I wait for morning in my tears! Rear the tomb, ye friends of the dead. Close it not till Colma come. My life flies away like a dream. Why should I stay behind? Here shall I rest with my friends, by the stream of the sounding rock. When night comes on the hill when the loud winds arise my ghost shall stand in the blast, and mourn the death of my friends. The hunter shall hear from his booth; he shall fear, but love my voice! For sweet shall my voice be for my friends: pleasant were her friends to Colma.
"Such was thy song, Minona, softly blushing daughter of Torman. Our tears descended for Colma, and our souls were sad! Ullin came with his harp114; he gave the song of Alpin. The voice of Alpin was pleasant, the soul of Ryno was a beam of fire! But they had rested in the narrow house: their voice had ceased in Selma! Ullin had returned one day from the chase before the heroes fell. He heard their strife115 on the hill: their song was soft, but sad! They mourned the fall of Morar, first of mortal men! His soul was like the soul of Fingal: his sword like the sword of Oscar. But he fell, and his father mourned: his sister's eyes were full of tears. Minona's eyes were full of tears, the sister of car-borne Morar. She retired from the song of Ullin, like the moon in the west, when she foresees the shower, and hides her fair head in a cloud. I touched the harp with Ullin: the song of morning rose!
"Ryno. The wind and the rain are past, calm is the noon of day. The clouds are divided in heaven. Over the green hills flies the inconstant sun. Red through the stony116 vale comes down the stream of the hill. Sweet are thy murmurs117, O stream! but more sweet is the voice I hear. It is the voice of Alpin, the son of song, mourning for the dead! Bent118 is his head of age: red his tearful eye. Alpin, thou son of song, why alone on the silent hill? why complainest thou, as a blast in the wood as a wave on the lonely shore?
"Alpin. My tears, O Ryno! are for the dead my voice for those that have passed away. Tall thou art on the hill; fair among the sons of the vale. But thou shalt fall like Morar: the mourner shall sit on thy tomb. The hills shall know thee no more: thy bow shall lie in thy hall unstrung!
"Thou wert swift, O Morar! as a roe104 on the desert: terrible as a meteor of fire. Thy wrath119 was as the storm. Thy sword in battle as lightning in the field. Thy voice was as a stream after rain, like thunder on distant hills. Many fell by thy arm: they were consumed in the flames of thy wrath. But when thou didst return from war, how peaceful was thy brow. Thy face was like the sun after rain: like the moon in the silence of night: calm as the breast of the lake when the loud wind is laid.
"Narrow is thy dwelling now! dark the place of thine abode120! With three steps I compass thy grave, O thou who wast so great before! Four stones, with their heads of moss110, are the only memorial of thee. A tree with scarce a leaf, long grass which whistles in the wind, mark to the hunter's eye the grave of the mighty121 Morar. Morar! thou art low indeed. Thou hast no mother to mourn thee, no maid with her tears of love. Dead is she that brought thee forth. Fallen is the daughter of Morglan.
"Who on his staff is this? Who is this whose head is white with age, whose eyes are red with tears, who quakes at every step? It is thy father, O Morar! the father of no son but thee. He heard of thy fame in war, he heard of foes dispersed122. He heard of Morar's renown123, why did he not hear of his wound? Weep, thou father of Morar! Weep, but thy son heareth thee not. Deep is the sleep of the dead, low their pillow of dust. No more shall he hear thy voice, no more awake at thy call. When shall it be morn in the grave, to bid the slumberer124 awake? Farewell, thou bravest of men! thou conqueror125 in the field! but the field shall see thee no more, nor the dark wood be lightened with the splendour of thy steel. Thou has left no son. The song shall preserve thy name. Future times shall hear of thee they shall hear of the fallen Morar!
"The grief of all arose, but most the bursting sigh of Armin. He remembers the death of his son, who fell in the days of his youth. Carmor was near the hero, the chief of the echoing Galmal. Why burst the sigh of Armin? he said. Is there a cause to mourn? The song comes with its music to melt and please the soul. It is like soft mist that, rising from a lake, pours on the silent vale; the green flowers are filled with dew, but the sun returns in his strength, and the mist is gone. Why art thou sad, O Armin, chief of sea-surrounded Gorma?
"Sad I am! nor small is my cause of woe25! Carmor, thou hast lost no son; thou hast lost no daughter of beauty. Colgar the valiant126 lives, and Annira, fairest maid. The boughs127 of thy house ascend128, O Carmor! but Armin is the last of his race. Dark is thy bed, O Daura! deep thy sleep in the tomb! When shalt thou wake with thy songs? with all thy voice of music?
"Arise, winds of autumn, arise: blow along the heath. Streams of the mountains, roar; roar, tempests in the groves129 of my oaks! Walk through broken clouds, O moon! show thy pale face at intervals130; bring to my mind the night when all my children fell, when Arindal the mighty fell -- when Daura the lovely failed. Daura, my daughter, thou wert fair, fair as the moon on Fura, white as the driven snow, sweet as the breathing gale. Arindal, thy bow was strong, thy spear was swift on the field, thy look was like mist on the wave, thy shield a red cloud in a storm! Armar, renowned131 in war, came and sought Daura's love. He was not long refused: fair was the hope of their friends.
"Erath, son of Odgal, repined: his brother had been slain by Armar. He came disguised like a son of the sea: fair was his cliff on the wave, white his locks of age, calm his serious brow. Fairest of women, he said, lovely daughter of Armin! a rock not distant in the sea bears a tree on its side; red shines the fruit afar. There Armar waits for Daura. I come to carry his love! she went she called on Armar. Nought132 answered, but the son of the rock. Armar, my love, my love! why tormentest thou me with fear? Hear, son of Arnart, hear! it is Daura who calleth thee. Erath, the traitor133, fled laughing to the land. She lifted up her voice-- she called for her brother and her father. Arindal! Armin! none to relieve you, Daura.
"Her voice came over the sea. Arindal, my son, descended from the hill, rough in the spoils of the chase. His arrows rattled134 by his side; his bow was in his hand, five dark-gray dogs attended his steps. He saw fierce Erath on the shore; he seized and bound him to an oak. Thick wind the thongs135 of the hide around his limbs; he loads the winds with his groans136. Arindal ascends137 the deep in his boat to bring Daura to land. Armar came in his wrath, and let fly the gray-feathered shaft138. It sung, it sunk in thy heart, O Arindal, my son! for Erath the traitor thou diest. The oar15 is stopped at once: he panted on the rock, and expired. What is thy grief, O Daura, when round thy feet is poured thy brother's blood. The boat is broken in twain. Armar plunges139 into the sea to rescue his Daura, or die. Sudden a blast from a hill came over the waves; he sank, and he rose no more.
"Alone, on the sea-beat rock, my daughter was heard to complain; frequent and loud were her cries. What could her father do? All night I stood on the shore: I saw her by the faint beam of the moon. All night I heard her cries. Loud was the wind; the rain beat hard on the hill. Before morning appeared, her voice was weak; it died away like the evening breeze among the grass of the rocks. Spent with grief, she expired, and left thee, Armin, alone. Gone is my strength in war, fallen my pride among women. When the storms aloft arise, when the north lifts the wave on high, I sit by the sounding shore, and look on the fatal rock.
"Often by the setting moon I see the ghosts of my children; half viewless they walk in mournful conference together."
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. They felt that their own fate was pictured in the misfortunes of Ossian's heroes, they felt this together, and their tears redoubled. Werther supported his forehead on Charlotte's arm: she trembled, she wished to be gone; but sorrow and sympathy lay like a leaden weight upon her soul. She recovered herself shortly, and begged Werther, with broken sobs140, to leave her, implored141 him with the utmost earnestness to comply with her request. He trembled; his heart was ready to burst: then, taking up the book again, he recommenced reading, in a voice broken by sobs. "Why dost thou waken me, O spring? Thy voice woos me, exclaiming, I refresh thee with heavenly dews; but the time of my decay is approaching, the storm is nigh that shall whither my leaves. Tomorrow the traveller shall come, he shall come, who beheld me in beauty: his eye shall seek me in the field around, but he shall not find me."
The whole force of these words fell upon the unfortunate Werther. Full of despair, he threw himself at Charlotte's feet, seized her hands, and pressed them to his eyes and to his forehead. An apprehension of his fatal project now struck her for the first time. Her senses were bewildered: she held his hands, pressed them to her bosom; and, leaning toward him with emotions of the tenderest pity, her warm cheek touched his. They lost sight of everything. The world disappeared from their eyes. He clasped her in his arms, strained her to his bosom, and covered her trembling lips with passionate142 kisses. "Werther!" she cried with a faint voice, turning herself away; "Werther!" and, with a feeble hand, she pushed him from her. At length, with the firm voice of virtue143, she exclaimed, "Werther!" He resisted not, but, tearing himself from her arms, fell on his knees before her. Charlotte rose, and, with disordered grief, in mingled tones of love and resentment144, she exclaimed, "It is the last time, Werther! You shall never see me any more!" Then, casting one last, tender look upon her unfortunate lover, she rushed into the adjoining room, and locked the door. Werther held out his arms, but did not dare to detain her. He continued on the ground, with his head resting on the sofa, for half an hour, till he heard a noise which brought him to his senses. The servant entered. He then walked up and down the room; and, when he was again left alone, he went to Charlotte's door, and, in a low voice, said, "Charlotte, Charlotte! but one word more, one last adieu!" She returned no answer. He stopped, and listened and entreated145; but all was silent. At length he tore himself from the place, crying, "Adieu, Charlotte, adieu for ever!"
Werther ran to the gate of the town. The guards, who knew him, let him pass in silence. The night was dark and stormy, -- it rained and snowed. He reached his own door about eleven. His servant, although seeing him enter the house without his hat, did not venture to say anything; and; as he undressed his master, he found that his clothes were wet. His hat was afterward found on the point of a rock overhanging the valley; and it is inconceivable how he could have climbed to the summit on such a dark, tempestuous night without losing his life.
He retired to bed, and slept to a late hour. The next morning his servant, upon being called to bring his coffee, found him writing. He was adding, to Charlotte, what we here annex146.
"For the last, last time I open these eyes. Alas! they will behold the sun no more. It is covered by a thick, impenetrable cloud. Yes, Nature! put on mourning: your child, your friend, your lover, draws near his end! This thought, Charlotte, is without parallel; and yet it seems like a mysterious dream when I repeat -- this is my last day! The last! Charlotte, no word can adequately express this thought. The last! To-day I stand erect147 in all my strength to-morrow, cold and stark148, I shall lie extended upon the ground. To die! what is death? We do but dream in our discourse149 upon it. I have seen many human beings die; but, so straitened is our feeble nature, we have no clear conception of the beginning or the end of our existence. At this moment I am my own -- or rather I am thine, thine, my adored! and the next we are parted, severed150 -- perhaps for ever! No, Charlotte, no! How can I, how can you, be annihilated151? We exist. What is annihilation? A mere64 word, an unmeaning sound that fixes no impression on the mind. Dead, Charlotte! laid in the cold earth, in the dark and narrow grave! I had a friend once who was everything to me in early youth. She died. I followed her hearse; I stood by her grave when the coffin152 was lowered; and when I heard the creaking of the cords as they were loosened and drawn153 up, when the first shovelful154 of earth was thrown in, and the coffin returned a hollow sound, which grew fainter and fainter till all was completely covered over, I threw myself on the ground; my heart was smitten155, grieved, shattered, rent -- but I neither knew what had happened, nor what was to happen to me. Death! the grave! I understand not the words. -- Forgive, oh, forgive me! Yesterday -- ah, that day should have been the last of my life! Thou angel! for the first time in my existence, I felt rapture glow within my inmost soul. She loves, she loves me! Still burns upon my lips the sacred fire they received from thine. New torrents of delight overwhelm my soul. Forgive me, oh, forgive!
"I knew that I was dear to you; I saw it in your first entrancing look, knew it by the first pressure of your hand; but when I was absent from you, when I saw Albert at your side, my doubts and fears returned.
"Do you remember the flowers you sent me, when, at that crowded assembly, you could neither speak nor extend your hand to me? Half the night I was on my knees before those flowers, and I regarded them as the pledges of your love; but those impressions grew fainter, and were at length effaced156.
"Everything passes away; but a whole eternity158 could not extinguish the living flame which was yesterday kindled159 by your lips, and which now burns within me. She loves me! These arms have encircled her waist, these lips have trembled upon hers. She is mine! Yes, Charlotte, you are mine for ever!
"And what do they mean by saying Albert is your husband? He may be so for this world; and in this world it is a sin to love you, to wish to tear you from his embrace. Yes, it is a crime; and I suffer the punishment, but I have enjoyed the full delight of my sin. I have inhaled160 a balm that has revived my soul. From this hour you are mine; yes, Charlotte, you are mine! I go before you. I go to my Father and to your Father. I will pour out my sorrows before him, and he will give me comfort till you arrive. Then will I fly to meet you. I will claim you, and remain your eternal embrace, in the presence of the Almighty161.
"I do not dream, I do not rave69. Drawing nearer to the grave my perceptions become clearer. We shall exist; we shall see each other again; we shall behold your mother; I shall behold her, and expose to her my inmost heart. Your mother -- your image!"
About eleven o'clock Werther asked his servant if Albert had returned. He answered, "Yes;" for he had seen him pass on horseback: upon which Werther sent him the following note, unsealed:
"Be so good as to lend me your pistols for a journey. Adieu."
Charlotte had slept little during the past night. All her apprehensions162 were realised in a way that she could neither foresee nor avoid. Her blood was boiling in her veins163, and a thousand painful sensations rent her pure heart. Was it the ardour of Werther's passionate embraces that she felt within her bosom? Was it anger at his daring? Was it the sad comparison of her present condition with former days of innocence165, tranquillity, and self-confidence? How could she approach her husband, and confess a scene which she had no reason to conceal95, and which she yet felt, nevertheless, unwilling to avow? They had preserved so long a silence toward each other and should she be the first to break it by so unexpected a discovery? She feared that the mere statement of Werther's visit would trouble him, and his distress166 would be heightened by her perfect candour. She wished that he could see her in her true light, and judge her without prejudice; but was she anxious that he should read her inmost soul? On the other hand, could she deceive a being to whom all her thoughts had ever been exposed as clearly as crystal, and from whom no sentiment had ever been concealed? These reflections made her anxious and thoughtful. Her mind still dwelt on Werther, who was now lost to her, but whom she could not bring herself to resign, and for whom she knew nothing was left but despair if she should be lost to him for ever.
A recollection of that mysterious estrangement167 which had lately subsisted168 between herself and Albert, and which she could never thoroughly169 understand, was now beyond measure painful to her. Even the prudent170 and the good have before now hesitated to explain their mutual differences, and have dwelt in silence upon their imaginary grievances171, until circumstances have become so entangled172, that in that critical juncture173, when a calm explanation would have saved all parties, an understanding was impossible. And thus if domestic confidence had been earlier established between them, if love and kind forbearance had mutually animated174 and expanded their hearts, it might not, perhaps, even yet have been too late to save our friend.
But we must not forget one remarkable175 circumstance. We may observe from the character of Werther's correspondence, that he had never affected176 to conceal his anxious desire to quit this world. He had often discussed the subject with Albert; and, between the latter and Charlotte, it had not unfrequently formed a topic of conversation. Albert was so opposed to the very idea of such an action, that, with a degree of irritation177 unusual in him, he had more than once given Werther to understand that he doubted the seriousness of his threats, and not only turned them into ridicule178, but caused Charlotte to share his feelings of incredulity. Her heart was thus tranquillised when she felt disposed to view the melancholy subject in a serious point of view, though she never communicated to her husband the apprehensions she sometimes experienced.
Albert, upon his return, was received by Charlotte with ill-concealed embarrassment. He was himself out of humour; his business was unfinished; and he had just discovered that the neighbouring official with whom he had to deal, was an obstinate179 and narrow-minded personage. Many things had occurred to irritate him.
He inquired whether anything had happened during his absence, and Charlotte hastily answered that Werther had been there on the evening previously180. He then inquired for his letters, and was answered that several packages had been left in his study. He thereon retired, leaving Charlotte alone.
The presence of the being she loved and honoured produced a new impression on her heart. The recollection of his generosity181, kindness, and affection had calmed her agitation: a secret impulse prompted her to follow him; she took her work and went to his study, as was often her custom. He was busily employed opening and reading his letters. It seemed as if the contents of some were disagreeable. She asked some questions: he gave short answers, and sat down to write.
Several hours passed in this manner, and Charlotte's feelings became more and more melancholy. She felt the extreme difficulty of explaining to her husband, under any circumstances, the weight that lay upon her heart; and her depression became every moment greater, in proportion as she endeavoured to hide her grief, and to conceal her tears.
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. She walked mechanically toward the wall, took down the pistols with a trembling hand, slowly wiped the dust from them, and would have delayed longer, had not Albert hastened her movements by an impatient look. She then delivered the fatal weapons to the servant, without being able to utter a word. As soon as he had departed, she folded up her work, and retired at once to her room, her heart overcome with the most fearful forebodings. She anticipated some dreadful calamity182. She was at one moment on the point of going to her husband, throwing herself at his feet, and acquainting him with all that had happened on the previous evening, that she might acknowledge her fault, and explain her apprehensions; then she saw that such a step would be useless, as she would certainly be unable to induce Albert to visit Werther. Dinner was served; and a kind friend whom she had persuaded to remain assisted to sustain the conversation, which was carried on by a sort of compulsion, till the events of the morning were forgotten.
When the servant brought the pistols to Werther, the latter received them with transports of delight upon hearing that Charlotte had given them to him with her own hand. He ate some bread, drank some wine, sent his servant to dinner, and then sat down to write as follows:
"They have been in your hands you wiped the dust from them. I kiss them a thousand times -- you have touched them. Yes, Heaven favours my design, and you, Charlotte, provide me with the fatal instruments. It was my desire to receive my death from your hands, and my wish is gratified. I have made inquiries of my servant. You trembled when you gave him the pistols, but you bade me no adieu. Wretched, wretched that I am -- not one farewell! How could you shut your heart against me in that hour which makes you mine for ever? Charlotte, ages cannot efface157 the impression -- I feel you cannot hate the man who so passionately183 loves you!"
After dinner he called his servant, desired him to finish the packing up, destroyed many papers, and then went out to pay some trifling184 debts. He soon returned home, then went out again, notwithstanding the rain, walked for some time in the count's garden, and afterward proceeded farther into the country. Toward evening he came back once more, and resumed his writing.
"Wilhelm, I have for the last time beheld the mountains, the forests, and the sky. Farewell! And you, my dearest mother, forgive me! Console her, Wilhelm. God bless you! I have settled all my affairs! Farewell! We shall meet again, and be happier than ever."
"I have requited185 you badly, Albert; but you will forgive me. I have disturbed the peace of your home. I have sowed distrust between you. Farewell! I will end all this wretchedness. And oh, that my death may render you happy! Albert, Albert! make that angel happy, and the blessing of Heaven be upon you!"
He spent the rest of the evening in arranging his papers: he tore and burned a great many; others he sealed up, and directed to Wilhelm. They contained some detached thoughts and maxims186, some of which I have perused187. At ten o'clock he ordered his fire to be made up, and a bottle of wine to be brought to him. He then dismissed his servant, whose room, as well as the apartments of the rest of the family, was situated188 in another part of the house. The servant lay down without undressing, that he might be the sooner ready for his journey in the morning, his master having informed him that the post-horses would be at the door before six o'clock.
"Past eleven o'clock! All is silent around me, and my soul is calm. I thank thee, O God, that thou bestowest strength and courage upon me in these last moments! I approach the window, my dearest of friends; and through the clouds, which are at this moment driven rapidly along by the impetuous winds, I behold the stars which illumine the eternal heavens. No, you will not fall, celestial189 bodies: the hand of the Almighty supports both you and me! I have looked for the last time upon the constellation190 of the Greater Bear: it is my favourite star; for when I bade you farewell at night, Charlotte, and turned my steps from your door, it always shone upon me. With what rapture have I at times beheld it! How often have I implored it with uplifted hands to witness my felicity! and even still -- But what object is there, Charlotte, which fails to summon up your image before me? Do you not surround me on all sides? and have I not, like a child, treasured up every trifle which you have consecrated191 by your touch? "Your profile, which was so dear to me, I return to you; and I pray you to preserve it. Thousands of kisses have I imprinted192 upon it, and a thousand times has it gladdened my heart on departing from and returning to my home.
"I have implored your father to protect my remains. At the corner of the churchyard, looking toward the fields, there are two lime-trees -- there I wish to lie. Your father can, and doubtless will, do this much for his friend. Implore it of him. But perhaps pious193 Christians194 will not choose that their bodies chould be buried near the corpse195 of a poor, unhappy wretch2 like me. Then let me be laid in some remote valley, or near the highway, where the priest and Levite may bless themselves as they pass by my tomb, whilst the Samaritan will shed a tear for my fate.
"See, Charlotte, I do not shudder to take the cold and fatal cup, from which I shall drink the draught196 of death. Your hand presents it to me, and I do not tremble. All, all is now concluded: the wishes and the hopes of my existence are fulfilled. With cold, unflinching hand I knock at the brazen197 portals of Death. Oh, that I had enjoyed the bliss198 of dying for you! how gladly would I have sacrificed myself for you; Charlotte! And could I but restore peace and joy to your bosom, with what resolution, with what joy, would I not meet my fate! But it is the lot of only a chosen few to shed their blood for their friends, and by their death to augment199, a thousand times, the happiness of those by whom they are beloved.
I wish, Charlotte, to be buried in the dress I wear at present: it has been rendered sacred by your touch. I have begged this favour of your father. My spirit soars above my sepulchre. I do not wish my pockets to be searched. The knot of pink ribbon which you wore on your bosom the first time I saw you, surrounded by the children -- Oh, kiss them a thousand times for me, and tell them the fate of their unhappy friend! I think I see them playing around me. The dear children! How warmly have I been attached to you, Charlotte! Since the first hour I saw you, how impossible have I found it to leave you. This ribbon must be buried with me: it was a present from you on my birthday. How confused it all appears! Little did I then think that I should journey this road. But peace! I pray you, peace!
"They are loaded -- the clock strikes twelve. I say amen. Charlotte, Charlotte! farewell, farewell!"
A neighbour saw the flash, and heard the report of the pistol; but, as everything remained quiet, he thought no more of it.
In the morning, at six o'clock, the servant went into Werther's room with a candle. He found his master stretched upon the floor, weltering in his blood, and the pistols at his side. He called, he took him in his arms, but received no answer. Life was not yet quite extinct. The servant ran for a surgeon, and then went to fetch Albert. Charlotte heard the ringing of the bell: a cold shudder seized her. She wakened her husband, and they both rose. The servant, bathed in tears faltered200 forth the dreadful news. Charlotte fell senseless at Albert's feet.
When the surgeon came to the unfortunate Werther, he was still lying on the floor; and his pulse beat, but his limbs were cold. The bullet, entering the forehead, over the right eye, had penetrated201 the skull202. A vein164 was opened in his right arm: the blood came, and he still continued to breathe.
From the blood which flowed from the chair, it could be inferred that he had committed the rash act sitting at his bureau, and that he afterward fell upon the floor. He was found lying on his back near the window. He was in full-dress costume.
The house, the neighbourhood, and the whole town were immediately in commotion203. Albert arrived. They had laid Werther on the bed: his head was bound up, and the paleness of death was upon his face. His limbs were motionless; but he still breathed, at one time strongly, then weaker -- his death was momently expected.
He had drunk only one glass of the wine. "Emilia Galotti" lay open upon his bureau.
I shall say nothing of Albert's distress, or of Charlotte's grief.
The old steward hastened to the house immediately upon hearing the news: he embraced his dying friend amid a flood of tears. His eldest204 boys soon followed him on foot. In speechless sorrow they threw themselves on their knees by the bedside, and kissed his hands and face. The eldest, who was his favourite, hung over him till he expired; and even then he was removed by force. At twelve o'clock Werther breathed his last. The presence of the steward, and the precautions he had adopted, prevented a disturbance205; and that night, at the hour of eleven, he caused the body to be interred206 in the place which Werther had selected for himself.
The steward and his sons followed the corpse to the grave. Albert was unable to accompany them. Charlotte's life was despaired of. The body was carried by labourers. No priest attended.
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wretches
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| n.不幸的人( wretch的名词复数 )；可怜的人；恶棍；坏蛋 | |
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wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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impedes
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| 阻碍，妨碍，阻止( impede的第三人称单数 ) | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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tempestuous
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| adj.狂暴的 | |
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thaw
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| v.（使）融化，（使）变得友善；n.融化，缓和 | |
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brooks
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| n.小溪( brook的名词复数 ) | |
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overflowed
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| 溢出的 | |
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beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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foaming
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| adj.布满泡沫的；发泡 | |
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torrents
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| n.倾注；奔流( torrent的名词复数 )；急流；爆发；连续不断 | |
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torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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oar
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| n.桨，橹，划手；v.划行 | |
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tinged
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| v.（使）发丁丁声( ting的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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foamed
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| 泡沫的 | |
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resounded
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| v.（指声音等）回荡于某处( resound的过去式和过去分词 )；产生回响；（指某处）回荡着声音 | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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forsook
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| forsake的过去式 | |
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gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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woes
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| 困境( woe的名词复数 )； 悲伤； 我好苦哇； 某人就要倒霉 | |
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woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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rapture
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| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
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liberated
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| a.无拘束的，放纵的 | |
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willow
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| n.柳树 | |
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fatiguing
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| a.使人劳累的 | |
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alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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bower
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| n.凉亭，树荫下凉快之处；闺房；v.荫蔽 | |
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herds
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| 兽群( herd的名词复数 )； 牧群； 人群； 群众 | |
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pauper
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| n.贫民，被救济者，穷人 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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contradictory
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| adj.反驳的，反对的，抗辩的；n.正反对，矛盾对立 | |
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invincible
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| adj.不可征服的，难以制服的 | |
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avowal
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| n.公开宣称，坦白承认 | |
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avow
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| v.承认，公开宣称 | |
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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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countless
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| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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intoxication
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| n.wild excitement;drunkenness；poisoning | |
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revel
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| vi.狂欢作乐，陶醉；n.作乐，狂欢 | |
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recollect
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| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
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narrated
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| v.故事( narrate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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tranquillity
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| n. 平静, 安静 | |
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withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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50
uncertainty
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| n.易变，靠不住，不确知，不确定的事物 | |
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51
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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52
undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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53
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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54
entreat
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| v.恳求，恳请 | |
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55
blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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56
embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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57
agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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58
discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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59
attachment
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| n.附属物，附件；依恋；依附 | |
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60
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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61
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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62
saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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63
mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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64
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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65
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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66
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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67
dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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68
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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69
rave
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| vi.胡言乱语；热衷谈论；n.热情赞扬 | |
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70
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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71
conversing
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| v.交谈，谈话( converse的现在分词 ) | |
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72
propitious
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| adj.吉利的；顺利的 | |
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73
tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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74
disorder
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| n.紊乱，混乱；骚动，骚乱；疾病，失调 | |
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75
petrifying
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| v.吓呆，使麻木( petrify的现在分词 )；使吓呆，使惊呆；僵化 | |
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76
consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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77
awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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78
horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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79
dependants
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| 受赡养者，受扶养的家属( dependant的名词复数 ) | |
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80
steward
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| n.乘务员，服务员；看管人；膳食管理员 | |
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81
pensively
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| adv.沉思地，焦虑地 | |
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82
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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83
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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84
severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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85
casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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86
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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87
transact
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| v.处理；做交易；谈判 | |
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88
fidelity
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| n.忠诚，忠实；精确 | |
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89
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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90
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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91
unanimity
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| n.全体一致，一致同意 | |
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92
intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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93
amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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94
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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95
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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96
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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97
implore
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| vt.乞求，恳求，哀求 | |
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98
inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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99
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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100
descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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101
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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102
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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103
watery
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| adj.有水的，水汪汪的；湿的，湿润的 | |
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104
roe
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| n.鱼卵；獐鹿 | |
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105
bards
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| n.诗人( bard的名词复数 ) | |
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106
gales
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| 龙猫 | |
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107
gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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108
dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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109
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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110
moss
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| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
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111
foes
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| 敌人，仇敌( foe的名词复数 ) | |
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112
tormented
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| 饱受折磨的 | |
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113
slain
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| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去分词 )； (slay的过去分词) | |
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114
harp
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| n.竖琴；天琴座 | |
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115
strife
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| n.争吵，冲突，倾轧，竞争 | |
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116
stony
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| adj.石头的，多石头的，冷酷的，无情的 | |
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117
murmurs
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| n.低沉、连续而不清的声音( murmur的名词复数 )；低语声；怨言；嘀咕 | |
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118
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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119
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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120
abode
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| n.住处，住所 | |
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121
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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122
dispersed
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| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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123
renown
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| n.声誉，名望 | |
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124
slumberer
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| 睡眠者，微睡者 | |
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125
conqueror
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| n.征服者，胜利者 | |
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126
valiant
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| adj.勇敢的，英勇的；n.勇士，勇敢的人 | |
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127
boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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128
ascend
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| vi.渐渐上升，升高；vt.攀登，登上 | |
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129
groves
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| 树丛，小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
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130
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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131
renowned
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| adj.著名的，有名望的，声誉鹊起的 | |
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132
nought
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| n.／adj.无，零 | |
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133
traitor
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| n.叛徒，卖国贼 | |
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134
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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135
thongs
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| 的东西 | |
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136
groans
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| n.呻吟，叹息( groan的名词复数 )；呻吟般的声音v.呻吟( groan的第三人称单数 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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137
ascends
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的第三人称单数 ) | |
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138
shaft
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| n.(工具的)柄，杆状物 | |
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139
plunges
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| n.跳进，投入vt.使投入，使插入，使陷入vi.投入，跳进，陷入v.颠簸( plunge的第三人称单数 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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140
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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141
implored
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| 恳求或乞求（某人）( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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142
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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143
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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144
resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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145
entreated
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| 恳求，乞求( entreat的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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146
annex
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| vt.兼并，吞并；n.附属建筑物 | |
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147
erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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148
stark
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| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
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149
discourse
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| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
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150
severed
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| v.切断，断绝( sever的过去式和过去分词 )；断，裂 | |
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151
annihilated
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| v.（彻底）消灭( annihilate的过去式和过去分词 )；使无效；废止；彻底击溃 | |
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152
coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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153
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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154
shovelful
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| n．一铁铲 | |
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155
smitten
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| 猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去分词 ) | |
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156
effaced
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| v.擦掉( efface的过去式和过去分词 )；抹去；超越；使黯然失色 | |
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157
efface
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| v.擦掉，抹去 | |
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158
eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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159
kindled
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| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
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160
inhaled
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| v.吸入( inhale的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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161
almighty
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| adj.全能的，万能的；很大的，很强的 | |
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162
apprehensions
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| 疑惧 | |
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163
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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164
vein
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| n.血管，静脉；叶脉，纹理；情绪；vt.使成脉络 | |
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165
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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166
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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167
estrangement
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| n.疏远，失和，不和 | |
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168
subsisted
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| v.（靠很少的钱或食物）维持生活，生存下去( subsist的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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169
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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170
prudent
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| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
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171
grievances
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| n.委屈( grievance的名词复数 )；苦衷；不满；牢骚 | |
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172
entangled
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| adj.卷入的；陷入的；被缠住的；缠在一起的v.使某人（某物/自己）缠绕，纠缠于（某物中），使某人（自己）陷入（困难或复杂的环境中）( entangle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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173
juncture
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| n.时刻，关键时刻，紧要关头 | |
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174
animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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175
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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176
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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177
irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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178
ridicule
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| v.讥讽，挖苦；n.嘲弄 | |
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obstinate
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| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
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180
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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181
generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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182
calamity
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| n.灾害，祸患，不幸事件 | |
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183
passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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184
trifling
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| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
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185
requited
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| v.报答( requite的过去式和过去分词 )；酬谢；回报；报复 | |
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186
maxims
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| n.格言，座右铭( maxim的名词复数 ) | |
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187
perused
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| v.读（某篇文字）( peruse的过去式和过去分词 )；（尤指）细阅；审阅；匆匆读或心不在焉地浏览（某篇文字） | |
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188
situated
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| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
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189
celestial
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| adj.天体的；天上的 | |
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190
constellation
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| n.星座n.灿烂的一群 | |
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191
consecrated
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| adj.神圣的，被视为神圣的v.把…奉为神圣，给…祝圣( consecrate的过去式和过去分词 )；奉献 | |
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192
imprinted
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| v.盖印（imprint的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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193
pious
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| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
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194
Christians
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| n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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195
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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196
draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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197
brazen
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| adj.厚脸皮的，无耻的，坚硬的 | |
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198
bliss
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| n.狂喜，福佑，天赐的福 | |
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199
augment
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| vt.(使)增大，增加，增长，扩张 | |
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200
faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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201
penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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202
skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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203
commotion
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| n.骚动，动乱 | |
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204
eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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205
disturbance
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| n.动乱，骚动；打扰，干扰；(身心)失调 | |
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206
interred
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| v.埋，葬( inter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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