Open Daily: 10am - 10pm | Alley door pickup 10am - 7pm 3038 Hennepin Ave Minneapolis, MN
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  • Open Daily: 10am - 10pm
    Alley-side Pickup: 10am - 7pm

    3038 Hennepin Ave Minneapolis, MN
    612-822-4611

Open Daily: 10am - 10pm | Alley-side Pickup: 10am - 7pm
3038 Hennepin Ave Minneapolis, MN
612-822-4611
The Sorrows of Werther

The Sorrows of Werther

Von Goethe, Johann Wolfgang

Paperback

Classic Fiction

ISBN10: 1535017031
ISBN13: 9781535017039
Publisher: Createspace
Published: Jun 30 2016
Pages: 208
Weight: 0.63
Height: 0.44 Width: 6.00 Depth: 9.00
Language: English
This translation, first printed 1779, was the standard English translation of Goethe's classic Die Leiden des Jungen Werthers well into the 19th century. The happy young Werther goes on a trip to the country, where he is introduced to the beautiful Charlotte. Nothing is ever the same for him again, and the tragic tale ends with his famous suicide: One of the neighbours saw the flash, and heard the report of the pistol; but everything remaining quiet, he thought no more of it. At six in the morning, his servant went into the room with a candle. He found his master stretched on the floor, and weltering in his blood: he took him up in his arms, and spoke to him, but received no answer. Some small symptoms of life still appearing, the servant ran to fetch a surgeon, and then went to Albert's. Charlotte heard the gate bell ring; a universal tremor seized her: she waked her husband, and both got up. The servant, all in tears, told them the dreadful event.-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 the ball, going in above his eye, had pierced through the skull. However, a vein was opened in his arm; the blood came, and he still continued to breathe. It was supposed, by the blood round his chair, that he committed this rash action as he was sitting at his bureau; that he afterwards fell on the floor - He was found lying on his back, near the window. He was dressed in a blue frock-coat and buff waistcoat, and had boots on. Everybody in the house and in the neighbourhood, and in short, people from all parts of the town, ran to see him. Albert came in. Werther was laid on his bed, his head was bound up, and the paleness of death was on his face. There were still some signs of life; but every moment they expected him to expire. He had drank only one glass of wine. Emilia Galoti was lying open upon his bureau.

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