Letter from an Unknown Woman - Stefan Zweig

*Letter from an Unknown Woman* known for its intense emotional depth and psychological insight, tells the story of a woman's lifelong, unrequited love for a man who remains completely unaware of her existence. Through a single letter, written as she nears the end of her life, the unnamed woman reveals her unwavering devotion to the writer, exposing a complex narrative of love, sacrifice, and loss.

Stefan Zweig, an Austrian novelist, poet, playwright, and biographer, is renowned for his achievements in biography and fiction. He is recognized as one of the world’s greatest writers of short stories and novellas. 

Transcript

0:07

Today, we continue our exploration of another of Stefan Zweig's notable works, *Letter from an Unknown Woman*. This story presents such an unusual tale of love that many find it unbelievable at first—how could something like this happen? The novel is about a woman who, throughout her life, belongs entirely to one man, but she never confesses her feelings to him. She leaves her family for him, even bears his child, yet he remains completely unaware of her existence and does not even know who she is. It is only after the woman’s death by suicide that the man receives a letter from her and learns about everything that had happened. It all begins with a classic mystery that immediately draws the reader in. On his forty-first birthday, writer R receives an unsigned letter with no return address. The letter is from a dying woman, recounting a deeply unforgettable love story that he knows nothing about.

The novel opens with: 0:38

"That morning, the famous novelist R returned to Vienna after spending three leisurely and comfortable days in the mountains. He bought a newspaper at the station, glanced at the date, and suddenly remembered that it was his birthday. 'Forty-one years old,' he thought, feeling neither joy nor sadness at this realization."

Upon arriving at his apartment, he finds a pile of letters, among which is a letter of about twenty pages, with no return address and no signature. He picks up the letter, and the first line reads: 0:40

“You, who never knew me.” He stops, astonished.

But who is this "you"? The writer begins to read further, and the woman in the letter tells her story: 0:42

"My child died yesterday—I fought death for three days and three nights to save this frail, young life." However, the woman could not save her child. With her child’s death, it seemed like everything had reached its end, so she decided to write this letter. This novel is one of Zweig’s most famous works. Previously, we discussed his *Decisive Moments in History*, and many people have remarked on how different the styles of these two books are, though they are by the same author. Indeed,  Letter from an Unknown Woman introduces a new idea, a new model of love that has been widely discussed for years.

What exactly moved everyone so deeply? This novel conveys a unique concept of love: 0:46

“I love you, but it has nothing to do with you.” I know many people strongly oppose the idea presented in *Letter from an Unknown Woman*, but I like it because it expresses a certain irony towards fate, self-reflection, and a sense of helplessness. Yes it does not lead a person to passively accept fate; instead, this kind of courage, like the unknown woman, evokes a sense of pity and pain, but also compels you to keep reading, just like the old man in *The Old Man and the Sea*. Stories like these continue to be loved today because in characters like the unknown woman or the old man, we see reflections of ourselves. This is a very precious sense of beauty. If you still possess the ability to feel this beauty, you are fortunate. Could such a person or story exist in reality? Yes. It is said that Zweig received two letters from unknown women in real life. One of these women later became his wife, and these letters inspired this novel. Why did Zweig write this story? One perspective suggests it was his confession. In our previous discussions of *Decisive Moments in History*, We already know that Zweig was Jewish and born into a wealthy family. By his early twenties, he had already gained some fame in literary circles, and his early life was smooth, almost without setbacks. As a result, his earlier works mostly revolved around stories of the upper class, filled with romance and artistic flair. However, in 1918, after World War I ended and the Austro-Hungarian Empire was dissolved and split into several countries, Zweig witnessed the brutalities of war firsthand. This led him to reflect on issues like war, class, and human nature. He began to care about the suffering of ordinary people, and *Letter from an Unknown Woman* became one of his representative works from this transitional period. Zweig's narrative style also changed; he used a gentle pen to tell a story from a woman's perspective. A writer illuminated a girl's life, and many years later, that girl left a farewell letter, exchanging her death for the writer's rebirth—this can be seen as the writer's redemption. Thus, this story is truly powerful. Why discuss this book? Because none of us wants to be the "unknown woman," and yet it broadens our understanding of love. So, before judging the unknown woman or the writer, we should approach this story with some thought—what is the extent to which a person can willingly give for love? Let’s dive into the story. When the writer opens this anonymous letter, the tragic and secret life of a woman slowly unfolds before his eyes. Yet, he opens the letter with the detached mindset of an outsider. In reality, however, he had become involved in and consumed this woman's entire life from the moment she was thirteen.

The beginning of *Letter from an Unknown Woman* is filled with suspense: 1:01

If I don't know you, why are you writing to me? And why did you mention that your son died yesterday? What does any of this have to do with me? If you've never read this story, you will find it hard to resist reading further; its captivating power begins to unfold.

In the letter, the woman writes: 1:03

 "Yesterday, my son died. I fought death for three days and nights, trying to save this fragile little life. I sat by his bedside for forty hours. But on the third night, I was so exhausted that I couldn’t keep my eyes open and fell asleep without realizing it. I slept in a hard chair for three or four hours, and it was during this time that death took his life." At the beginning of this letter, the unknown woman talks about losing her child, a situation unbearable for anyone who has children. The child was one of the only two things she was attached to in this world; the other was the writer who opened this letter. "I want to talk to you alone. For the first time in my life, I want to tell you everything; I want you to know my life, which has always belonged to you, although you know nothing about me."

At this point, the writer is still confused. He doesn't remember this woman, yet she claims that the deceased child was his son. Until now, he had no idea that these two people existed. It is incredibly strange to be an outsider in a story where you are the main character. The unknown woman continues: 1:07

"My life truly began the moment I met you.""When I was thirteen, you appeared in my life. You lived in this very house, just as you are now, holding this final letter that symbolizes the end of my life." It is unimaginable that a connection between two people could have started so early. The writer cannot remember the neighbours who once lived across from him. The girl begins her story at the age of thirteen. They were so inconspicuous in the writer's memory that they seemed to have never existed. Yet, this lack of recognition satisfies the man's vanity to a great extent. In matters of love, he was always the one in control, never staying or settling for anyone. However, there was someone who loved him so loyally and exclusively without expecting anything in return. "Let me tell you everything from the beginning. I beg you to give me fifteen minutes to talk about myself; please don't grow weary. I have loved you all my life and have never tired of it." This passage moves many literary hearts, but at the same time, it feels incredibly tormenting—the emotions are so heavy, so difficult. What is the origin of this story? How did these two people meet?The unknown woman lived in this building, and one day, she learned that a writer would be moving in across from them. The young girl was filled with anticipation; she had never known a writer."That very night, before I met you, I dreamed of you for the first time." The young girl then truly sees the writer. How did the writer first appear before her eyes? The unknown woman remembers it vividly. "On the third day, I finally saw you. You were young, handsome, and slender, far beyond my imagination, and you deeply moved my heart. Isn’t it amazing? The moment I saw you, I distinctly felt your uniqueness, your difference from everyone else" Through the young girl's recollections, we see a thirteen-year-old girl, inexperienced in the ways of the world, looking at the writer with rose-colored glasses. The writer seemed so special, so different from anyone she had ever known. This uniqueness and novelty deeply attracted her, driving her to explore, with a burning desire.

The story paints a picture of a young girl captivated by a man who had become the center of her universe. It reveals a narrative of deep, unrequited love and the complexities that come with such a profound attachment. I must say, this story feels so familiar—a young girl, bright-eyed and full of curiosity, meets a man who changes her life even before she encounters her dreams. Some tragedies are hidden in a person’s growth, and the unknown woman continues: 1:20

“From that day on, in our building, in my entire small and pitiful childhood world, there was nothing else that could capture my interest except you.” For the next three years, apart from reading and going to school, the young girl’s favorite thing to do was to lock herself in her house. Every day, she would lean against the door, which had a brass peephole, just large enough to spy on the writer's comings and goings. She watched him, when he came back, when he left, who he brought home, and even collected his discarded cigar butts and cigarette ends as precious treasures. But did the writer ever notice this little girl?“I remember one day, I went for a walk with a female classmate and we were chatting at the entrance when a car came speeding toward us, stopping right in front of us. As soon as the car stopped, you jumped out eagerly, so gracefully. I didn’t hesitate to help you open the door. We almost bumped into each other, and you naturally looked at me and said, in a gentle, familiar tone, ‘Thank you, my dear young lady.’ Dear, at that moment, when I felt your tender and affectionate gaze, I realized I was entirely yours.”

This is a young girl’s secret crush, a secret known to no one. These descriptions reveal a lot: 1:26

First, the writer is a master of social interaction—he is affectionate but not deeply emotional, which defines his character. Second, this is a secret crush—a teenage girl's hidden feeling. Those who harbor secret crushes often hold onto the smallest details. The unknown woman remembers everything, blinded by her intense feelings. She sees no one else, not even herself. In her eyes, the entire world contains only one person—the writer. And in this whole process, the writer never takes part. I think this kind of feeling is familiar to many of us. During our teenage years, many have experienced that feverish kind of affection, like a crush on a person on a poster, keeping their photo on a bookshelf.

As I read this, I can’t help but wonder, if this girl had grown up slowly by the writer’s side, would she have eventually been noticed by him? But that never happened. Instead, the girl was forced to leave the writer. In her letter, the unknown woman writes: 1:31

“How can I explain this to you? You are everything—my entire life. Everything in my life only has meaning when it is connected to you.” She only wanted to stay close to the writer, believing that love could make a person better; it had a positive impact on her to some extent. The writer became a secret dwelling within her heart, and this young girl started to strive for improvement. Her grades suddenly shot up to the top of her class. Knowing that the writer loved books, she began reading obsessively. She relentlessly practiced the piano, convinced that she was too ordinary, while the writer had known so many women. She felt she had to enrich herself so that one day, when she was older, she could be worthy of him. It was so humble yet so moving. The unknown woman held herself to near-impossible standards, obsessively perfecting every detail, in the hope that one day she could grow up and stand by his side. But to the writer, a mature man who thrived in the world of love affairs, he hardly noticed the scrawny young girl living across from him. Even if he did notice her, he would probably think she was foolish.

The unknown woman writes: 1:37

 “Dear, please don’t laugh at my foolishness. In those days, every afternoon, I would sit by the cold door with a book in my hand, waiting and watching through the tiny peephole, always nervous that my mother might grow suspicious.” Thus, the unknown woman became familiar with every one of the writer's habits. She could recognize each of his ties, every suit he wore, and knew all of his friends. She believed that secretly watching the every move of the person she loved was, in itself, a form of happiness. But life suddenly changed, catching the young girl off guard.

One day, her mother, shy and hesitant, spoke to her and finally revealed that she was going to marry a man. Yes, after raising her daughter alone for so many years, she had met someone suitable and would leave Vienna to be with him. For the young girl, this meant leaving the writer and, in her mind, leaving her world. The events that unfolded over the next few days were entirely out of the girl's control, managed by the adults around her. The pain and helplessness she felt were immense, and she writes: 1:41

 “Even now, when I think of those days, my hand trembles uncontrollably as I hold the pen. I couldn’t reveal my secret feelings to them, so my opposition seemed like mere childish stubbornness in their eyes. No one cared; everything was done behind my back.” Her mother took her away; they left the house and Vienna. Before departing, the girl secretly sneaked into the writer’s apartment, hoping to say goodbye, to see him one last time. But she did not—he was out all night, and they never crossed paths. Following her mother and stepfather, the girl lived in Innsbruck for two years. During those seemingly endless years, she felt the overwhelming loneliness of being surrounded by people yet feeling utterly isolated.

"From sixteen to eighteen, while living with my family, I felt like a prisoner, an abandoned soul. Without you, I had no desire to live happily. My stepfather was wealthy and treated me like his own daughter, but I stubbornly insisted on earning my own living. In the end, I managed to achieve my goal: 1:45

I left for Vienna alone to live with a relative and took a job as a shop assistant in a large clothing store." Why insist on supporting herself, rejecting a comfortable life at home? Because she only wanted to leave the world without the writer behind and return to Vienna. The closer she was to the writer, the more she felt life had meaning. In her view, without him, nothing else mattered. She felt so profoundly alone. One misty autumn evening, I finally returned to Vienna. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you where the first place I wanted to go was. We all know, don’t we? We sigh as we read. Thus, at eighteen, the girl returned to Vienna, growing into a young woman. She worked hard to support herself, even distancing herself from her family on purpose—all to make the writer notice her and fall in love with her. This was her life's only goal. During the day, the unknown woman worked at a clothing store. As soon as she finished her shift, she would head straight to the front of the writer’s building to wait. It was the same building; the writer was still there—the place where she had spent her entire girlhood. Vienna's winter winds were bitterly cold, but the unknown woman stood there for hours, rain or shine. She had blossomed into a striking young woman, attracting glances from many young men on the street, but her heart belonged elsewhere.

She kept creating opportunities until, one day, she finally succeeded—she caught the writer's attention. She writes: 1:56

“The first time we met, you didn’t recognize me. Two days later, we met by chance again.” Of course, it wasn’t by chance, but how would the writer know?“This time, you gave me an intimate look and embraced me, but you still didn’t realize I was the girl whose soul you had awakened and who had loved you all this time. You only saw the same beautiful eighteen-year-old girl who had passed by you in the same place two days earlier.” To the writer, it seemed that fate had granted him another chance to flirt—meeting the same person in the same place more than once must have been destiny, right? It sounded like a cliché, but the girl didn’t think of it that way. What did the writer do?“You started chatting with me, looking relaxed and happy, as if we had known each other for a long time. You had no idea who I was, and you had never stepped into my life. Then you asked if I would like to have dinner with you. Of course, I agreed immediately; how could I refuse your invitation?”

After dinner, the writer, as gentlemanly as possible, suggested a walk to this young, beautiful woman he had "met by chance." After the walk, he asked her if she would like to come to his place for a chat. The girl recalls in her letter: 2:06

“I immediately noticed that my lack of hesitation in accepting your invitation seemed to surprise you, as if you were a little embarrassed but also delighted. Now, of course, I understand your surprise. I know now that even if a woman has a strong desire to give herself to a man, she usually hides her feelings, pretending to be cautious or angry, waiting for the man to beg, deceive, declare his feelings, or make promises.” But the young girl did none of that. At the time, she never even considered such feelings, saying, “I know perhaps only prostitutes or innocent young girls would accept such an invitation without hesitation.” The writer didn’t think it was so complicated; he just saw her as an easy catch. This time, the unknown woman finally walked with the writer into his apartment—the room she had been so curious about since she was thirteen. Her heart was filled with immense satisfaction. They spent a passionate night together.“The next morning, I gently slipped out of your arms, ready to leave.” It was the girl’s first time, but she had to leave. The writer woke up and asked her if she would like to take some flowers with her. She agreed. The writer took four white roses from a blue crystal vase on his desk—a vase the unknown woman had seen when she was a child—and handed them to her. She took the roses home and kissed them every day until they withered. Of course, the writer never understood her deep affection for a single flower; it was simply because it was the first time he had given her flowers. They spent three extraordinarily romantic nights together before the writer told the girl he had to leave on a long trip. The unknown woman, of course, knew the writer well. This was what he always did—he loved to travel, but fundamentally, he didn’t want to be responsible for any woman. He always left them behind. The writer promised, “I’ll come back for you,” but in reality, he forgot about her as soon as he turned around. However, because of those three days, the woman unexpectedly became pregnant. The writer never returned, and the woman decided to have the child and raise him alone. It was a lovely boy, of whom the writer was completely unaware. From then on, every year on the writer’s birthday, the unknown woman would send a bouquet of white roses to his home. She knew the roses would be placed in the blue crystal vase, and she hoped this would help him remember her. But it was all in vain. Not once did the writer remember her. You might call him a scoundrel, but how could we blame him? The man knew nothing at all. He traveled, came back, and fell in love everywhere he went. He was always so passionate yet so forgetful. And as for the woman who loved him with all her heart, she never resisted or fought for herself. Whatever happened, she accepted it completely, never once considering changing this man, not even a little. So, what could we possibly say? This unknown woman, with her child, left her family behind, determined to stay close to the writer. But how could she survive?

Let's read a passage from the book: 2:43

“My son died yesterday. He was your son too, my dear—the child conceived during those three passionate nights. I swear that, under the shadow of death, one does not lie. I swear to you that he was our child. From the moment I gave myself to you until he was born, no other man touched me.”“To prevent my relatives from discovering my situation and informing my parents, I stopped working at the store months before giving birth. I did not want to ask my mother for money, so I survived on the little jewelry I had left until my delivery.”“You might wonder how I managed to provide my child with a comfortable upbringing and a lively, happy, and prosperous life. My dear, I speak to you from the darkness, so I do not feel ashamed. I will tell you, but do not be afraid—I sold myself. I wasn’t a prostitute in the usual sense or a streetwalker, but I did sell myself. I had wealthy boyfriends and rich lovers. At first, I approached them, and later, they came to me. You might have noticed that I am quite beautiful. Every man who came close to me grew more and more fond of me; they were all grateful, fascinated, and loved me. But, my dear, you were the only one who didn't like them.” The unknown woman was clearly very attractive. By selling herself, she provided a prosperous life for her child, their child. She kept changing boyfriends because she always rejected the men who wanted to marry her or have a deeper, more committed relationship. Even though those men didn’t mind her past or the fact that she had a child, she refused to marry any of them. She didn’t want to enter into a marriage. To her, if there was ever to be a marriage, it could only be with the writer. She relied on these men, living with them, merely to ensure a stable life to support their child. But if she ever married someone else, she would be tied down to another man and another family, and she would no longer be free. She always thought that if, one day, the writer appeared in front of her, she would throw herself into his arms. So she had to remain free, ready to surrender to her true love at any moment.

You might disagree, but the unknown woman held herself to this extreme standard. She said: 2:55

“On the surface, I seem completely different. The shy little girl has transformed into a woman, the way those men describe—charming and elegant, surrounded by admirers. How could you imagine that I was the timid young girl in your dimly lit bedroom back then?” She could enchant so many people, yet she couldn’t win the writer’s heart or even make him remember her. Fate arranged for them to meet again, which became an even greater tragedy. One day, in a theater box at the opera house, the writer appeared right next to the unknown woman’s box. At that moment, the unknown woman was with her wealthy lover, but she knew the writer was just beside her. Inside, her emotions were in turmoil, but the writer didn’t recognize her at all. Her patience, her devotion, her loyalty, all her intense dedication, and her annual gesture of sending a bouquet of white roses had amounted to nothing.“As soon as the first act was over, I asked my friend to leave with me immediately. I couldn't bear being so close to you in the darkness, yet still feeling so distant, like a stranger.” Indeed, to the writer, she was always an unknown woman, a woman even without a name. Yet, every moment of her life was spent waiting for this man. So, what happened that day? The unknown woman and her lover went to a dance hall. She was so beautiful and captivated everyone's gaze. The writer was also there and was immediately drawn to her charm. He hinted for her to leave with him, and the unknown woman, in front of everyone, told her lover, “I’ll be right back.” Then she abandoned her respectable lover and left with another man, not returning until the next morning.

Reading this, you might cry out, “What a foolish love-struck mind!” If the woman heard you, she might reply as she actually did: 3:10

“I don’t care about pride or dignity.” Here, I feel compelled to add something. To most people, her actions seem foolish and hard to understand. But for a woman, doing this is, in fact, the greatest form of self-respect. What is dignity, in my opinion? It means respecting one's desires. For this unknown woman, what desire could be more important than love and being loved? Too many people around us do not respect their own desires. They say, “I want to go far away,” but they stay trapped at home. They say, “I want to love without reservation,” but refuse to pay any price for it. They do not acknowledge their own desires. But the unknown woman is different. For what she truly wanted and cared about, she was willing to give everything. Such a woman is courageous. And so, she spent another night with the writer. “You held me tightly in your arms, and I spent another enchanting night with you. Yet even as I lay naked beside you, you did not recognize who I was.” This was the last night the unknown woman spent with the writer. The next morning, he told her he was planning a long journey to North Africa for a few months, and this encounter had been another one of his pre-departure conquests.“I suddenly began to tremble. My ears roared. It was over—everything was over. Everything would be forgotten again. I wanted to throw myself at your feet and cry, ‘Take me with you!’ Then you would finally recognize me. After all these years, you would surely remember who I am.” At this point, we might think, “Just do it! Throw yourself at his feet!” But she didn’t. “In front of you, I was still just as timid, weak, powerless. I could only say, ‘What a pity.’” Before leaving, the unknown woman deliberately asked the writer if he could give her some flowers, specifically the white roses that were always placed in that blue vase. It was her last attempt to awaken his memory, but of course, it didn’t work. He didn’t remember anything, and the unknown woman left. The previous night, she had just publicly humiliated her wealthy lover by leaving him, thereby losing her comfortable life. From that moment on, she became a laughingstock, a disgrace. She lived in poverty until, at last, their child fell ill and died. Since the child was born, the unknown woman had treated him as a proof of her love for the writer, even though he knew nothing about it. But now, with the death of this young life, all her hopes for life were gone, and her faith was utterly shattered. Burning with fever, she gave up on treatment, determined only to write a letter and finally reveal the secret that had tormented her all her life. Then she closed her eyes, with no regrets or attachments. She was only twenty-four years old. A life too brief, consumed by this hopeless love affair. Many will hear this and feel infuriated, thinking, “This is too cruel!” When I first read this novel, I felt the same way. The second time I read it, I thought, “Never live like this.” But now, as I discuss this book, my thoughts have changed, and I’ll share them with you. On the surface, everyone might criticize the unknown woman, saying her love is too humble, that it reflects emotional dependence, and asking why she can’t show more self-respect. But in reality, she possesses a truly independent character. How many people could love so purely, with such disregard for consequences? Her love is unaffected by the writer’s fickleness, by other women, by men she doesn’t love, or by societal norms, money, or rules. It’s truly hard to achieve, isn’t it? Philosopher Walter Benjamin once said, “The only way to truly know a person is to love them without hope.” But that is incredibly difficult to do—to love so purely, so extremely, without any expectations. So, while no one would want to become the unknown woman, Zweig’s novel makes us realize that some people are extraordinarily different. They are capable of things we might find unacceptable or refuse to acknowledge. But what about the writer? The writer, with trembling hands, set the letter down, and he pondered deeply for a long time. His eyes suddenly landed on the blue crystal vase on his desk—it was empty. For the first time in many years, on his birthday—yes, his forty-first birthday—the vase was empty, with no flowers, no white roses. He felt a sudden shock, as if an invisible door had opened and a cold draft from another world swept into his quiet room. He sensed death, felt the presence of an immortal love, and a flood of emotions overwhelmed him. He vaguely recalled that unseen woman, so elusive yet so passionate, like a distant melody. He realized that he would never again experience such deep love. The more seriously one responds to another's love, the less likely one is to become just a prop in someone else's life. True love reveals the completeness, depth of emotion, preventing one from treating others with a casual, playful, or drifting attitude. If someone approaches love with a mere playful attitude, in the end, they too will become a pawn of fate, regardless of gender. So, for a writer who treats love as a game, no matter what he eventually feels, the life of the unknown woman is irretrievable. If we seek some comfort, we might say the writer never deserved the profound love of the unknown woman; hence, fate arranged for him to realize what he had lost only after losing it. Many men may dream of meeting a woman who values love above all else, a remarkable woman who would fall in love with them. But if you do not possess the capacity to love her equally, or if you lack the ability to love, you should not enter into such a relationship. This classic work reveals that Zweig remains admirable, for he bravely confronted his mistakes. Some people, when looking into a mirror, might just turn their heads away.

Finally, let's reflect on the phrase: 9:50

"I love you; it has nothing to do with you." Many ordinary people, deep down, still wish that "I love you" would mean something to the person they love, and there's nothing wrong with that. When we love someone, we clearly desire to be with them, and if we can face our desires honestly and pursue them openly, that's a good thing. So, where does the tragedy of the unknown woman lie? She had desires, very strong ones, but she did not pursue them. Often, we fail to pursue what we want not because we don't want it, but because we're afraid of disappointment. Don't be like the unknown woman; you may find yourself crying late at night, crying until you don't recognize yourself, because a good relationship is never just about one person. What most people desire is a state that requires two healthy and understanding hearts to meet and attract each other.

So, what is the value of this novel? It tells us that a person with conviction possesses an extraordinary strength in aesthetics that is always moving and rare. To conclude, I'll share a final thought: 10:54

"Beautiful things are never forgotten; and I will never forget you." That's all for today.