than the lover;
for where the latter is about to yield to despair, the former will rise,
and, with the defiance of Prometheus, challenge the gods to recognize
the godlike similitude, that man can rise superior to sorrow, never
despairing, never cursing Fate if all the rosy dreams of youth are not
realities, but with upturned gaze stride over the waste places of life,
consoling himself with the thought that only magnanimous souls can
suffer and conquer magnanimously. Vanquished grief brings us nearer to
the immortal, and gradually bears us from this vale of sorrow up to
the brighter heights, nearer to God--the earth with her petty confusion
lying like a worthless tool at our feet!"

"It is heavenly to be able to say that, and divine to perceive it,"
cried Moritz, bursting into tears. "The miseries of life chain me to
the dust, and do not permit me to mount to the heights which a hero like
Goethe reaches victorious. It is indeed sublime to conquer one's self,
and be willing to resign the happiness which flees us. But see how weak
I am--I cannot do it! I can never give up the one I love. It seems as if
I could move heaven and earth to conquer at last, and that I must die if
I do not succeed--die like Werther."

Goethe's eyes flashed with anger, and with heightened color he
exclaimed: "You all repeat the same litany--do not make me answerable
for all your weaknesses, and blame poor Werther for the creations of
your own imagination. I, who am the author of Werther, am free from this
abominable sentimentality. Why cannot others be, who only read what I
have conceived? But pardon my violence," he continued, with a milder
voice and gentler manner. "Never did an author create a work which
brought him at the same time so great fame and bitter reproach as this
work has brought to me. 'The Sorrows of Young Werther' have indeed been
transformed into the sorrows of young Goethe, and I even fear that old
Goethe will have to suffer for it. I have spoken to you as a friend to
a friend: cherish my words, take them to heart, and arise from the dust;
shake off the self-strewn ashes from your head. Enter again as a
brave champion the combat of life--summon to your aid cunning, power,
prudence, and audacity, to conquer your love. Whether you succeed
or not, then you aim at the greatest of battles--that of mind over
matter--then remember my farewell words. From the power which binds all
men he frees himself who conquers himself.--Farewell!