So, where’s the fun in a novel that
involves unrequited love, a pistol sabotaged with chicken blood, and
a hero who sheds his passion and becomes a respectable citizen?
Well, if you’re talking about Johann
Wolfgang von Goethe’s “The Sorrows of Young Werther,” the fun
is in William Makepeace Thackeray’s satirical treatment of the
novel in the sixteen-lined poem “Sorrows of Werther.”
Here’s the poem, in full:
Werther had a love for CharlotteSuch as words could never utter;Would you know how first he met her?She was cutting bread and butter.
Charlotte was a married lady,And a moral man was Werther,And for all the wealth of IndiesWould do nothing for to hurt her.
So he sigh’d and pin’d and ogled,And his passion boil’d and bubbled,Till he blew his silly brains out,And no more was by it troubled.
Charlotte, having seen his bodyBorne before her on a shutter,Like a well-conducted person,Went on cutting bread and butter.
Thackeray makes a wonderful mockery of
the heavy Sturm und Drang vibe of Goethe’s novel, boiling down
Werther’s gleeful angst into a handful of wonderful English
contracted nouns that kind of poke a pin into the dreary world that
is youthful agony.
That’s the gift of the poet, and
probably one of the reasons Robert Newton Peck urges serious fiction
writers to write a poem a day, just to get into the habit of really
playing with language in a narrow, harrowing kind of way.
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