The Sorrows of Young Werther - 2
Homerus's fan meeting opening speech, "Let Us Read the Bible," prompted many to reflect on their own faith. In this era of emerging magical engineering and deistic Enlightenment, the Empire was full of believers indifferent to "religious activities." They hadn't denied or apostatized from God. It was simply that the current trend prioritizing reason and rationality had stolen away the leisure for the fervent devotion of past ages. This tendency was especially strong among progressive intellectuals.
But the greatest intellect of our time, the author Homerus, had lavishly praised the Bible's greatness. He had extolled the wisdom and inspiration contained within that ancient book. "The word of the Lord is eternal and the wellspring of all intellect!" "Our Lord desires to save you all!" Many flocked back to churches to study the Bible anew. The churches, in turn, distributed free copies of the full scriptures and expanded doctrinal education, engaging actively in missionary work. Thus, prayers to the Lord echoed across the Empire.
And on the very day the Papal Court was preparing to formally beatify Homerus...
"A... new work from Homerus?"
The Sorrows of Young Werther had been published.
It was like a nuclear bomb dropping on the capital.
...
The Sorrows of Young Werther exploded in popularity among young men dreaming of romance. They were instantly captivated by Werther's anguish and suffering. The violence of pure emotion. The rich sensibility and beautiful prose within it seized the hearts of the young like the temptation of the devil.
"Ah, love! It makes even the most intellectual adults childish like children—that must be love!"
"Love is like a fever..."
It was romance.
A supreme romance that no law or norm could control. An intense emotion, a blaze that consumed reason. It wasn't surprising that free love became the fashion among nobles swept up in romance. Some with fiancées eloped with their lovers, sparking chaos and disputes among the capital's nobility.
"Werther is the truly free man! Honest to his own nature, and generous to others. He was strict only with himself."
"Who dares say Werther sinned against the Lord? Werther... he was just human."
Among the capital's young socialites, it became trendy to dress like Werther from the novel—blue tailcoats and yellow vests. The sight of everyone in similar outfits was comical at first glance. But no one who had read The Sorrows of Young Werther could mock it.
And then.
"You! Are you alright?! This letter, what the..."
"I... I don't know. Really."
People attempted suicide.
Those who could empathize with the pain through The Sorrows of Young Werther—instead of succumbing to sorrow, some rose from it.
"Werther's fragility... it feels like it's telling me it's okay to be fragile too."
In other words, catharsis through literature. Confronting sorrow, understanding it, drawing attention from others and self-awareness... The Sorrows of Young Werther became a form of preventive education on the taboo subject of "suicide."
"It's alright. Aren't I here by your side? I don't blame you. Human nature... has its limits. I can't fully understand your pain, but I know you're suffering a fever... Will you let me nurse you by your side?"
"...Thank you, friend."
And.
There were those quietly observing all this.
"This book... it's subversive."
"Suicide is a sin against the Lord. That's certain, but..."
"But if it's a book by Homerus..."
The Papal Court, preparing to beatify Homerus, had read the book too.
"I'll meet Homerus in person."
In the end, they decided to confront the source directly.
...
"From the Papal Court...?"
"Yes. I am Garnier Cardinal. It's an honor to meet you, Homerus."
With Is the princess tied up in adoption procedures and unable to visit for a while, this time a cardinal had come to the publishing house.
"Ah, yes. You're too kind. The honor is mine, meeting a cardinal of the Church."
"Nonsense. Cardinals like us are mere priests in the end."
Garnier Cardinal smiled faintly as he spoke. He cleared his throat awkwardly, took a sip of water, and continued.
"We were preparing your beatification, Homerus."
"...Pardon?"
Beatification was the step before canonization. The formal process to recognize someone as a saint worthy of veneration by the Church.
"I'm no priest...?"
"Not only priests are beatified. The Lord's miracles can descend anywhere. For blessed priests like us, it's simply enviable."
A pure white radiance flickered in Garnier Cardinal's eyes. Holy power, or blessing as it's called.
"The Papal Court has concluded that your series of deeds—the works and speeches before the people—are miracles from the Lord."
"Miracles...? I'm just a humble author."
"We call it a miracle when a humble author produces such brilliant works repeatedly, and through them spreads the holy word of the Lord."
"......"
"That's why I must ask."
Garnier Cardinal drew a book from his robes and placed it on the table. A familiar one.
The Sorrows of Young Werther
"What were you thinking when you wrote this?"
"......"
He wasn't rebuking me for writing a book on suicide or raging that it endorsed it. He was simply asking. Like any faithful soul confronting an incomprehensible miracle.
The cardinal continued.
"In your fan meeting speech, you proclaimed the Bible's value. You venerated the word and praised the great inspiration within it. You preached to the people to read it. Yet this Sorrows of Young Werther seems to say some suicides aren't sins. It preaches that they are the lambs and the weak who deserve our comfort. And strangely, many priests who read it empathized with its content."
"......"
"So, to you, inspired by the holy Lord, I ask: Are some suicides... not sins, but fevers deserving comfort?"
I couldn't answer this question. I wasn't Goethe, and unlike him, I had no theological knowledge—just a plagiarist author. I'd studied the Bible in my past life, but that was a different world's Bible, not this one.
So.
I plagiarized again.
"The law exists to restrain the strong, and the gospel to comfort the weak."
The words of Martin Luther, founder of Protestantism and reformer.
"I simply believe the Lord's word exists to comfort us."
"...Is that how you see the Bible, Homerus?"
"Yes. It is."
"......"
I don't know if that was the right answer. Despite all my preparations so far, The Sorrows of Young Werther might still be banned as an heretical text, just like in my past life's history.
"...I'll take my leave. Thank you for your time."
"Of course. It was an honor to speak with a cardinal."
From here on, it was up to heaven.
...
In the end, Homerus's beatification was canceled. Instead, the Papal Court awarded the "Dawn Medal" to honor his propagation of the Bible's value.
And I, the medal recipient...
"Pleased to meet you all, aspiring authors! I'm Homerus, and I'll be in charge of your education from now on!"
"H-hic— I-is that... really Homerus...? This isn't a dream, right?"
"Yes, yes. It's real."
Was finally teaching at the newly opened "Literary Academy (Temporary)."
It was purely temporary, borrowing a building from the Imperial Academy's Knight Department, but it was still noteworthy progress. Here, I'd test my teaching methods, and if successful, establish a proper academy.
"I plan to teach you literature. And raise you into authors who can produce wonderful works."
Of course, I wasn't a real author. Just a plagiarist stealing from my past life.
"Teaching art is difficult, so due to my shortcomings, you might learn nothing and leave empty-handed."
But I was an author too. A translator.
In my past life, I was a translator. My job was translating public domain classics into e-books and selling them cheaply.
"This is your textbook for today."
"Yes! ...Pardon? Today?"
What I placed on the desks as the "textbook" was a mountain of paper. By eye, thousands of pages at least.
"Yes. It won't be hard. You just have to 'read' it."
When training new translators at the publishing house, the first task was short stories. Not because of difficulty, but because it was easy for me to review. Especially distinctive authors like Edgar Allan Poe—their shorts were one of the best ways to build a newbie's skills.
(If you wanted to torment them more, assign the Marquis de Sade.)
"Reading all this is today's entire lesson."
"Th-that textbook is..."
"Ah, these are all shorts I wrote myself."
"...!!!"
In other words, my head contained thousands of shorts I understood so deeply I could review them instantly. Thanks to that, I could produce them quickly in this world's language. This paper mountain was the output.
Handpicked hundreds of shorts to strengthen their literary caliber.
"Then, come forward in order and take your manuscripts."
I couldn't create authors.
But the works of great authors are the nourishment that breeds great authors.
So I'd hand over the works.
And leave the rest to the authors.