Lotte in Weimar (1975) Movie Script
Wolfgang! Wolfgang!
Lottchen! Dearest Lottchen!
Keep - those - feet - moving.
Into battle, my hero, my Fingal!
[Ossian: Fingal in Lochlin]
Mama, wake up!
Don't dream so shamelessly.
I can't stand it,
listening to your moaning.
Where are we, my child?
On the Weimar chausse.
Lotte in Weimar
(The Beloved Returns)
Through all the Transoxonians' blare and clashings hollow,
Our song grows bold and still will dare thy steps to follow!
Living in thee, no wrong our spirits can whelm;
Prince, may thy life be long,
endless thy realm !
[West-Eastern Divan, book 4, transl. E. Dowden]
A good day, my friend.
- We need rooms for three.
- Very well.
Our hotel is, as usual, well occupied,
but we will spare no pains to satisfy the ladies' needs.
If you please...
... among the abilities ...
you see, sir ...
I beg your pardon?
Never mind.
How do you like Weimar?
Oh, excellent. It's nice.
Frau Elmenreich, the proprietress,
will be pleased to receive you.
Room 27.
But I cannot oblige with a single room.
The Mamsell will have to share her room
with the maid of the Countess of Larisch from Erfurt.
We have at the moment many guests
who bring their own servants.
I'm sure they'll get along.
So, shall we go?
- Presently, Madame.
In Heaven's name pray write us a few lines.
It seems as though laws and rules kept on
propagating themselves like a disease.
Would the lady be so gracious?
I see.
He's an intellectual.
Well-read and knows his literary quotations.
Yes, I've just come from Vienna.
Oh, Wien! Is that so?
That's it.
How clumsy.
If you please.
I most humbly beg your pardon if my question
- it is not actuated by unseemly curiosity,
but - have we the honour to be entertaining
Frau Councillor Kestner, Madame Charlotte Kestner,
ne Buff, of Wetzlar ... ?
- The same.
- Certainly, certainly.
But I mean - of course it cannot - I mean - it cannot be the same Charlotte -
or Lotte for short - Kestner,
ne Buff, from the house
of the Teutonic Order at Wetzlar, the former -
The very same, my friend.
But I am not "former" at all,
I am present in the flesh and want to be shown ...
This very instant!
Goodness - gracious me!
Frau Councillor! Then our house has the honour and distinction
of entertaining the actual original - if I may so express myself -
in short: Werther's Lotte?
Indeed, my friend, but
that should be a reason more
for showing us tired ladies to our room ...
- This very instant! Only...
Room 27. Good gracious, that's two stairs up.
But we never dreamed ...
Frau Councillor, you must forgive me.
As you can see, all the walls have a fresh coat of paint.
Since the visit of the Don Cossacks in 1813
we've had to renovate completely.
Yet I should not give the Cossacks
all the credit for our improvements.
We had Prussian and Hungarian hussars in the house as well
- to say nothing of the French who came before them!
Here we are!
Frau Councillor, if you please.
Allow me to lead the way.
Very nice.
The bell-pull.
Of course I shall see to it personally
that you'll get hot water.
My friend, we are unspoilt people
with simple tastes, we're well provided for ...
- and we'd like to have some rest ...
- Good Heavens, Frau Councillor!
Such an event!
Worthy to be put down in a book.
Frau Councillor must be used to her situation
and cannot guess
at the emotions that must animate the soul of a man,
literary from youth up, to whom now, all undreamt of
- to whom is vouchsafed acquaintance with -
is vouchsafed the sight of
a being so surrounded with the effulgence of poesy and,
as it were,
borne up on fiery arms to the heaven of immortal fame...
My good man, I am just a simple old lady
with no pretensions,
You have such an unusual and high-flown way
of expressing yourself ...
My name is Mager.
Char-lo-tte
I run on and on, Frau Councillor, and all of a sudden
it comes over me in a burning flash
that I have not even asked Frau Councillor
if she has had coffee!
Thank you, my friend, we took it betimes.
By the way, my dear Herr Mag...
Mager,
you go too far, you greatly exaggerate,
when you simply identify me,
or even the young thing I once was,
with the heroine of that much lauded book, the "Werther".
But the character in the novel
is quite different and distinct from my former self.
For instance, anyone can see that my eyes are blue,
whereas Werther's Lotte is well known to have black ones.
A poetic license!
As though we did not know what that is,
a poetic license.
What if the author did avail himself to some small extent of
- what if he did play hide-and-seek to mystify us ...
No, no, the black eyes are from quite another source.
If Frau Councillor is not, down to the very last hair, the Lotte of Werther,
she is, even so, in every particular the Lotte of Goethe.
My worthy fellow!
My conduct, I know, is unpardonable.
Frau Councillor,
- you haven't seen the Privy Councillor [Goethe] since ...
- 44 years.
- You haven't seen him again?
- I only know the young Legal Assistant,
Dr. Goethe of the Gewandsgasse in Wetzlar.
The Minister of State for the Duchy of Weimar,
the famous poet, I have never beheld with my own eyes.
It is too much.
And so the Frau Councillor has come to Weimar to ...
- To visit my youngest sister, Frau Chamberlain Riedel!
- Esplanade no. 6.
Is it far from here to the Esplanade?
In Weimar there are no distances.
Our greatness is of the spirit alone.
But now make haste
and show my maid her quarters,
for I shall soon have need of her.
Yes, and on the way, you can tell me
where the author lives who wrote the wonderful Rinaldo.
[Christian August Vulpius, Goethe's brother-in-law]
Oh, what a ravishing book!
I've read it five times without stopping.
Do you think we might chance
to see him in the street?
Only one single word, Frau Councillor.
That very last scene before Werther takes his leave,
that heartrending scene between the three of you,
in the house of the Teutonic Order at Wetzlar,
Werther grasps Lotte's hand and cries:
"We shall meet again!"
In all the world we shall know each other's forms again!"
The Privy Councillor did not make it up, didn't he?
That was real, wasn't it? It actually happened?
Yes. No.
Yes and no.
But go now. Go!
So now your crown of glory stands revealed.
Ah, child.
Goethe in his memoirs complains
that people pester him all the time.
But see how men think only of themselves!
He never once reflects all the harm he did to us,
to your dear, departed father and me,
with his wicked mixture of truth and make-believe.
And black and blue eyes.
I know exactly where he took that from.
Litte Dorte, our neighbour's daughter.
Her eyes were pitch-black.
And from somewhere else.
Mama, there's a ribbon missing.
Do you really want to wear it like this?
All those allusions.
Oh, Lottchen,
you have no mind for some fun.
The librarian Vulpius, author of that glorious work Rinaldo,
is brother-in-law to Herr von Goethe to boot.
It is high time for you both
to be off to the Esplanade, to Aunt Amalia,
to announce our arrival.
Being an old lady, I must lie down
and rest for an hour or so.
I will follow you, as soon as I'm refreshed.
My honoured friend:
I am paying a visit to my sister,
with my daughter Charlotte,
for a few days in your town.
It is my wish to present my child to you;
and to look once more upon a face
which has become famous to all the world.
Weimar, Hotel Elephant, 22nd September 1816.
Your Charlotte Kestner, ne Buff.
Does it hurt?
Not at all.
Alas, I've never experienced all that.
It was never so tempestuous.
He only wrote it down that way.
Come in, little Clara.
Good day.
My child! You're already here.
How tall you are.
And where's dear Lottchen?
She's resting.
Come along!
Take the brat.
Make way.
The kiss won't remain our secret,
I shall tell my fianc.
He's kissed me.
On my lips.
On your lips?
Really?
He may well act the philanderer
for the time he's here.
His blue coat.
Yellow waistcoat, yellow pants.
Loafing.
The engaged couple now decided
to keep the beloved third party at a distance.
"so that he'll adapt himself to it",
Lottchen said.
He can never expect anything else from me,
besides good friendship.
Then he pulled a face.
Send it to him.
So that he'll have at least a souvenir.
We'll send it to him.
And the pocket Homer.
Translation by Vossen.
I am leaving you both in happiness
and will remain in your hearts.
Adieu.
A thousand times, adieu.
I am leaving you both in happiness
and will remain in your hearts. Adieu.
A thousand times, adieu.
He's gone.
He's gone.
He's gone.
He's gone.
He's gone.
He's gone.
He's gone.
He's gone.
He's ... he's ...
He's gone.
He's gone, Lottchen, isn't he?
He's gone.
He won't come back.
He's gone.
He - is - gone.
He's gone. He's gone.
He's gone! He's ...
the brute!
So senseless.
He almost stole from Kestner his beloved.
Almost.
With his aimless, untrustworthy wooing,
and the
irresponsible kiss.
The heroes flew,
like two black clouds
two black clouds,
chariots of the spirits
when the dark children of the air arrive,
to frighten the unhappy humans
[Ossian's songs]
What's the matter?
It's so good,
so extremely good.
Hans Christian,
Hans Christian is away on business again.
This is the house on the Frauenplan.
The prince of intellects.
What is it?
You cannot come in now.
It is only Mager.
I beg your pardon, Frau Councillor,
there's a lady here,
Miss Cuzzle from no. 19,
an English lady, a guest of our house.
Well?
Miss Cuzzle is apprised of Frau Councillor's
presence in the city and in this hotel,
and she urgently begs to be received,
if only for the briefest duration.
Tell the lady that I'm not dressed,
that I must go out directly, and that I regret.
I have no need to tell Miss Cuzzle,
she can hear herself, for she stands beside me.
She wants to have just a look for you.
If you please.
It would be very interesting for me
to see you only for a minute.
I wonder what's keeping dear Charlotte?
She's a draughtswoman.
She's already drawn portraits
of famous persons of half the world.
Metternich, Talleyrand,
Blcher, the Czar,
Kant's birthplace, Napoleon,
Schiller's widow,
everything signed too.
My dear, my dear!
You are Werther's Lotte,
aren't you?
Lotte?
Herself.
In Abruzzo a drew a ...
bandit-chief?
a captain of highway robbers.
A captain of highway robbers?
A genuine bandit-chief.
He escorted me back to safety later,
so that nothing should happen to me.
Escorted you?
I beg your pardon,
I regret to interrupt.
But Herr Dr. Riemer would deem it a favour
if he might present his respects to the Frau Councillor.
What is it, Mager?
Herr Doctor Riemer? What Herr Doctor Riemer?
Are you announcing another caller?
What can you be thinking of! I must dress and go out.
What time is it?
Farewell, my dear child. I'm expected elsewhere.
Tell the gentleman
that I've already left.
Very well.
But the visitor is Dr. Friedrich Wilhelm Riemer,
the confidant and companion
to His Excellency the Privy Councillor.
It might not be impossible
that Herr Doctor bears a message ...
In my nightgown,
and the disorder of this room? No! No!
There's a parlour on the first floor.
Ah, yes.
That might be ...
???
Am I like that?
Yes, it has a certain likeness.
You want my signature?
A most valuable sheet.
And a document of permanent significance.
In here please.
But I've no time.
- I'm in a hurry.
- If you please.
By the way, it was not at all easy
to get access to you.
Not easy?
If Frau Councillor would care to ascertain herself ...
Good Heavens!
It's the doing of that disastrous enthousiast,
that Mager.
Get back, everybody.
Get back.
People, be reasonable.
Get back.
The town is like a stirred-up ant-hill.
Everybody is hoping to catch a glimpse of your person.
Those people at the entrance
are waiting for you to leave the house.
That Mager!
Make way.
Disperse.
Great things are going on here today.
Keep back.
Don't push.
You can't disturb the master now.
Yes.
For nine years I served the genius.
And since four years I teach at the local Gymnasium.
It became a matter of manly honour;
in one way or another I had stand on my own feet.
One might ask why my illustrious friendship
with the Privy Councillor
did not to procure the position at a German University
I was yearning for.
But no. The rewarding little word
from a high source was not forthcoming.
Great men have other things on their minds -
they cannot dwell on the individual welfare of their servants,
no matter how deserving they might have been.
I'm listening with great interest.
But tell me,
all humanity knows quite well
that you and your dear departed husband have suffered
because of the indiscretions of the genius,
mixing truth and fiction with that dangerous art.
You have suffered from the ruthlessness,
the offence against loyalty,
when he went behind the backs of his friends, secretly,
to desecrate the tenderest relations
that can exist between three persons.
But weren't you ...
weren't you happy in his service?
But I was, my dear lady.
Just imagine: the daily contact,
the daily intercourse with such a man!
An incalculable genius,
as I was poet enough to perceive.
Careful.
Always in a hurry.
Hello, I'm so glad to see you.
I'm very glad, yes.
I didn't see you.
Come in.
Often he made me think of a Damascene blade,
though I have forgotten the precise connection;
or of a Leyden jar,
in the sense that he was charged,
highly charged.
He had, as I remember,
a peculiarly open gaze.
- Has he the same eyes today, I wonder?
- The eyes.
The eyes are often powerful.
Why shouldn't I ask you,
what I've asked myself so often in those past 44 years?
What sort of youth is that,
who himself fails in that independent seeking out and finding,
and comes along, a third party, to make love to a girl
whose bloom is destined for another?
Who is infatuated with the love he sees in others,
settles himself on their preserve,
and indulges himself in feasting at another's board?
This falling in love with a bride -
I have wrecked my brains about it
through all the years.
A poem, he once said,
is nothing after all.
A poem is like a kiss you give to the world.
But from kisses you don't get pregnant.
But you were going to say something?
A thunderstorm!
Calm down.
I'll close the window.
Don't be afraid,
the thunderstorm will pass.
Let's close the windows.
Don't be afraid.
Look at that rain.
Let's play a game.
Let's play "numbers".
And he who doesn't know the number...
three hundred ...
three hundred ...
It's stopped raining.
Let's go outside.
Let's take a walk to Woltershausen.
You fool.
Why are you flirting with the bride?
You're such a flirt,
spoiling it for everybody.
Look at the Junoesque girl over there.
The black-eyed Dorothea.
Go to her.
She's the girl for you.
She's unattached and free.
But you only like it
when you can spoil things for others.
Come along, both of you.
We're leaving.
With Maxi La Roche,
and the Brentano woman in Frankfurt,
he used to hang around them as well,
until the husband ...
made a scene.
She was black-eyed too,
not only Dortelchen.
And he's supposed to have had their eyes in mind,
that's what people say.
And some even have the effrontery to claim
that Werther's Lotte was no more like me
than like some other woman ...
That's absurd!
Just on account of a pair of black eyes ...
am I to be obliterated as Lotter after all?
You've all been waiting for 3 hours now.
But it's of no use.
Please let the "Mister" pass through to the Elephant.
What must the foreigner think of us?
What's going on here?
Is this a happening?
Step back.
People!
How do you explain that real scholars consider themselves honoured
when they gather about the genius and pay him court,
purvey knowledge to him, act as his living encyclopedia.
How do you explain that a man like myself,
with a silly smile on his face,
for years will do common duties as a scribe.
But surely they were not merely the low services of a scribe
you gave for so long to the master...
No, I didn't mean that.
Or if I did say so, I went too far.
In the first place, all labours of love know no rank,
I am not speaking of that.
And, indeed, to take from his dictation
is no job for an ordinary quill-driver.
Only such a scholar like myself can appraise at its real value,
the whole beauty, charm, and marvel of the situation,
and so be worthy of it,
of holding such an office.
One makes plans,
sends out invitations, looks forward to it,
in a good mood,
clean-shaven,
taken the day off from duty...
The food's cold now.
Do you understand what that means:
falling in love with a bride?
And how one can wreck one's brains about it,
for years?
It was like that for me, because, try as I would,
I could not put out of my mind a certain word:
the word
"parasite".
When you found courage
to utter that word,
you could count on my having the courage to hear it.
We were both shocked into silence for a moment,
but it was only due to the ...
divine adumbrations and echoes
which we heard ringing in that word.
You haven't yet risen to that height of thought:
A divinity alights and broods upon the human.
Well, all that was not to be taken seriously.
Although it almost broke my heart.
And indeed the divine is not to be taken quite seriously,
when it lodges temporarily in the human form.
The earthly bridegroom is justified in saying to himself:
"No matter, that is only a god."
And after he was gone,
then it really started.
The book appeared
and I became the immortal beloved.
God forbid!
When we drove to the ball, in the carriage
with my cousins, and talked about the pleasure of dancing,
I prattled on, never dreaming, God knows,
that I was prattling for the centuries,
and that my words were to stand for ever in cold print!
I would have held my tongue otherwise.
Come in.
I beg your pardon.
Frau Councillor.
Mager! Again!
For more than 40 minutes another visitor has been waiting,
a lady of Weimar society, in hope to be admitted.
I could not longer delay to announce her.
This is too much!
For the past three hours I have been about to go out
to visit my relatives who must be worried by now.
Who is the visitor?
Demoiselle Schopenhauer.
With Madame Schopenhauer
the Master used to spend his evenings at the time.
I thank you for this hour.
It was two hours,
if I may be allowed to note it in passing.
And as the midday meal has been thus delayed,
before I introduce Mademoiselle Schopenhauer,
a cup of bouillon with biscuits,
or a delightful glass of Hungarian wine?
I have no appetite.
In God's name, ask the young lady to come in,
but bear in mind that I have only a few minutes left
to see the demoiselle,
my relatives are expecting me.
Very well, Frau Councillor.
If Frau Councillor would just permit me to come back
to my suggestion about refreshments.
It would certainly do you good,
so that Frau Councillor might then be inclined
towards the proposal of my friend Rhrig, the city beadle.
- And? - He is keeping order down below,
in front of the house,
- and I just met him in the hall.
- So?
The populace would be easier to disperse,
if Frau Councillor would show herself
at the open window for a moment.
Out of the question!
This is a ridiculous, an absurd proposal.
Nonsense!
Frau Councillor knows best.
But let me remark that after a refreshment
you might see matters in a different light.
I will inform Demoiselle Schopenhauer now.
What about it?
She doesn't want to.
She hasn't a clue about publicity.
Frau Councillor,
words fail me to convey my gratitude for your kindness
in granting me the happiness of paying you my homage.
I do so not only in my own modest person,
but also in the name, if not precisely by commission, of our Muses' Circle,
whose spirit and fine solidarity has brilliantly proved its worth
on the thrilling occasion of your presence here.
For it was, indeed, one of our members,
my beloved friend the Countess Line Egloffstein,
who brought me the news on swiftest wing.
My conscience whispers to me
that I should in return have informed Museline -
pardon me, that is the name Line Egloffstein goes by in our club,
we all have such names, you would laugh if I told you -
that I should have informed Line,
for very likely she would have come too.
But in the first place ...
and secondly I had important reasons for bidding you,
Frau Councillor, welcome to Weimar alone,
and to see you in private.
Asters, larkspurs, and petunias.
My dear child.
This is a good region for flowers.
Flora is propitious to us.
The Erfurt flower seeds have been renowned
for over a century.
Radeberger.
[brand of beer]
A mere trifle.
My own handiwork and a modest welcome gift
from our Muses' Circle.
This is the Museline I spoke of.
She sings divinely and is the favourite lady-in-waiting
of our Grand-Duchess, the Hereditary Princess.
That one is Julie, her pretty sister,
a painter, called Julemuse.
And here am I,
Adelmuse,
quite unflattering, you will admit.
And the one with her arm round me is Tillemuse -
Ottilie von Pogwisch - a charming head, don't you think?
Very charming.
Very charming.
Nothing. She won't show herself.
If she doesn't show herself,
then we must get in.
The august guest might come out very soon.
Please refrain from annoying her.
I'm asking you nicely.
I saw Uncle Riemer as he left.
What, is he your uncle?
Not really. I have called him that since I was a child,
as I did all the other regular guests
at Mama's Sunday and Thursday teas.
Meyers and Schtzes and Falcks,
Baron Einsiedel, Major von Knebel, Legation Counsellor Bertuch,
Grimm, Prince Pckler,
the Schlegel brothers and the Savignys.
I called them all uncle and aunt, I even said uncle to Wieland.
And you call Goethe uncle too?
No, not him.
But I called the Frau Privy Councillor aunt.
- The Vulpius woman?
- Yes, the lately deceased Frau von Goethe.
Is it true that ...
her conduct left something to be desired?
Yes, she was common.
De mortuis nil nisi bene.
- Pardon?
- Never speak ill of the dead.
A glutton and garrulous, with fearfully red cheeks;
crazy about dancing, and [loved the bottle more than she should]
Sledge rides and student balls;
and the Jena fraternities played all sorts of pranks ...
And Goethe tolerated such goings-on?
He shut his eyes,
and probably sanctioned them to some extent;
on the ground, I suspect, that they gave him a sort of right
to salvage his own emotional freedom.
A poetic genius, it seems to me,
cannot draw his literary inspiration
exclusively from his married life.
My dear child!
You have very broad, very strong-minded views.
I am a Weimarian,
we hold Amor in great esteem.
???
Don't you think it's interesting,
Aunt Vulpius, I mean, Frau Privy Councillcor,
always addressed Goethe with "Sie",
even after they were married.
And he?
He said "Du".
I see.
But the old Privy Councillor had better
not hear of the Muses' Circle meetings.
He doesn't care for it,
he called us "sentimental nanny-goats".
And why shouldn't he learn
about your aesthetic aspirations?
Because of the First Commandment.
How do you mean?
Thou shalt have no other gods before Me.
We are here, dearest lady, once more concerned
with the subject of tyranny.
A tyranny,
probably inseparable from a certain dominating greatness.
He is old, and great, and little inclined
to value what comes after him.
But life goes on,
it does not stop even at the greatest.
And we are children of the new life,
we Muselines and Julemuses and Adelmuse,
a new stock, not at all sentimental nanny-goats.
We are independent and progressive minds,
with the courage of the new times.
We know and love painters
like the good Cornelius, and Overbeck,
whose paintings he, I have heard him say so,
would rather fire his pistol at.
Fire his pistol?
David Caspar Friedrich's paintings, he says,
you might just as well look at them hanging upside down.
"It should not be allowed!" he thunders.
We let the Jovian thunder pass.
We read Uhland's poems
and E.T.A. Hoffmann's grotesque stories.
With great pleasure.
I do not know those authors.
Dearest Frau Councillor
- or may I say, esteemed friend?
My soul is full of self-reproaches;
I am guilty of wasting a great opportunity.
I prattle on carelessly,
and neglect the essential,
because I pray for
and count on your aid and advice.
What or whom is it about?
A dear human soul, my heart's treasure,
in a word: Tillemuse.
Tillemuse?
Pardon me, that's her muse-name in our circle,
Ottilie von Pogwisch.
And what unhappy fate
is threatening Frulein von Pogwitsch?
Pogwisch. She's about to become engaged.
Pray tell me, to whom?
To Herr Chamberlain von Goethe.
What! No! August, the son.
The son of the great man and the Mamsell.
And what is so apprehensive about this union?
The many defects of August's character.
His wild, gloomy and coarse traits,
his early and regrettably increasing inclinations
for the joys of alcohol.
Ottilie saw herself as the saviour from his daemon.
Until an event occurred,
a young man.
A young man?
This young man, and Ottilie ..
Let me proceed in good order.
Three or four years ago
the hour came of our liberation from Napoleon.
Goethe had left.
Our spiritual hero abandoned us,
as it were, before the enemy.
August, returning from Heidelberg,
again in Weimar,
and paid court to my Ottilie.
Listen to my story,
it's a charming one.
Napoleon had abandoned his army,
defeated in Russia.
Weimar was still occupied by the French,
but the patriotic rising was spreading here too.
Father has left for Karlsbad.
Because he's disgusted with your heated patriotic ado.
Oh, August.
I really don't know if I can agree with you.
Believe me, dear Adele,
during those long moments of silence our souls are united.
It is love.
He's been drinking again, Tillemuse.
Quite a lot.
He's plastered.
It doesn't bother me at all.
Do you want be to be alone?
One never knows.
Here you are, my dears.
# sul mare luccica
# l'astro d'argento
# Placida l'onda
# prospero il vento
# Venite all'agile
# Barchetta mia
# Santa Lucia, Santa Lucia
# Venite all'agile
# Barchetta mia
# Santa Lucia, Santa Lucia
# Con questo zeffiro
# cos soave
# oh! com' bello
# star sulla nave
# Su passeggeri
# venite via
# Santa Lucia, Santa Lucia
# Su passeggeri
# venite via
# Santa Lucia, Santa Lucia
It is love.
Earlier than expected
a handful of Blcher Hussars turned up in Weimar,
rounded up the soldiers of the French garrison ...
- vieille sorcire
- quand je reviendrais je te ferais ???
je te ferais un ???
son dossier
officier de l'arme franaise
??? vieillei sorcire, un dans le cou
But what's he saying?
and chased the captured French from Weimar.
L'empereur Napolon
Vive la France
Weimar is liberated.
Down with Napoleon.
August.
Yes, Weimar is liberated.
But Napoleon wasn't beaten yet.
French cavalry occupied Weimar again,
while Napoleon's main forces were marching on Leipzig,
for the decisive battle.
French cavalry.
They've come from Erfurt.
They're back and restore order.
Half of the city is burning.
They've taken quarters again in the Elephant.
Let's have a look at the chaos.
Heinke.
Ferdinand.
Heinke.
Jurist of Breslau,
volunteer rifleman, wounded in the thigh.
It's no longer bleeding.
- Are the French back in town?
- Yes they are.
I don't want to be taken prisoner.
I want to get well again,
crush Napoleon.
And burn down Paris.
But what will the ladies do with me now?
Don't fear. Sister ??? knows
and approves of our patriotic scheme.
Careful.
Ladies, please,
you must leave now.
And I need hot water.
Let's burn down Paris!
Please! Ladies!
Where does your ward originate from?
He's a jurist from Breslau,
the son of a Swedish fur trader.
- So not a nobleman?
- No, not at all.
And you're spoiling him with fancy foods.
Does he know something about poetry?
One doesn't have to,
when one incarnates it.
That's Mager. Don't come in!
Mager!
Mager, we don't want any coffee.
Who could drink coffee now?
Has one ...
Each day we visited our foundling,
the dear Ferdinand
Such confusion of hearts,
oh, such confusion!
Good day, Ferdinand.
Good day.
Good day, Ferdinand.
Good day.
Even cranberries.
For my mother's son.
And his corpus delicti.
Good Heavens, the milk.
The milk.
Cranberries without milk.
A bit more.
Open your mouth.
Like a good boy.
# with bow and arrow across mountains and valleys
# the rifleman comes along,
in the early morning light
# la la la
# la la la
My heart beats with joy when I see you,
Ferdinand.
I confess.
A sense of liberty and patriotism,
you epitomize it.
Did I already tell you how Germany's greatest poet
admonished me because of it?
Tell us, Dr. Passow.
Regarding a love of liberty and patriotism,
opposing the French oppression,
Goethe said to me,
in an angry voice,
"it is not enough to have pure and noble intentions."
"one must also consider the consequences
of one's actions"
"and I dread what'll happen here,
Herr Dr. Passow"
"because your nationalism
is just the noble, innocent precursor
"of something horrible
that one day will manifest itself among the Germans
and lead them to extremes of foolishness."
"and if you yourself saw it,
it would make you turn over in your grave"
Cheers.
Cheerio.
I know why that Dr. Passow
venerates your German war hero.
Passow is half queer anyway.
As is everybody in the corps ???
Remember the Spartans.
An early breed.
Nationalistic early breed.
1813, the saddest year of all.
He's gone, my ladies,
he's rejoined his battalion.
Deep down, I know my fate.
August.
May the Heavens protect you, beloved.
What's this?
What noise!
Finally they're kicking the French swine
out of our beautiful Weimar.
Cossacks,
Don Cossacks all over town.
Our allies have arrived.
Now we'll strike.
The Cossacks rode up to the palace yard
and dismounted.
Now even the Grand Duke knew
that the hour had come.
???
???
???
Napoleon has been defeated at Leipzig.
You Saxon devils.
Again, endless billetings.
The Grand Duke made an appeal
for volunteers.
Almost all of our young gentlemen enlisted.
But August didn't.
Our dear Ferdinand is again with his regiment.
Today the Privy Councillor Goethe
has returned to our battered city of Weimar.
You dared to enlist after all!
As a volunteer!
As 50th?
Without my consent!
But I was forced to join them.
It's the done thing these days, father.
Idiotic and neglectful of your duty.
I'll write letters.
I'll write to the Minister Vogt.
You won't join them!
That would be the ultimate ...
I'll throw in my whole weight ...
I refuse to give in to the insane ...
to expose my home and my correspondence
to the curiosity of strangers
to abandon your post in such a way
I refuse to join them
I refuse to join them!
I won't think of it!
I won't think of it!
How long have you been in the service
of the great smart-ass of Weimar?
If the rumours are true,
Paris has been conquered and the campaign won.
No! no!
and ... and ...
and if there won't happen a miracle,
if Heaven won't help us,
then the court and the town can expect
the engagement at Christmas,
or on New Year's Eve.
First,
there's Frau Chamberlain Riedel's maid.
The lunch has gone cold.
I've tried in vain to explain
that the arrival of the illustrious guest at the Esplanade no. 6
will be delayed by an important visitor.
Very well, Mager. I am not a private person,
and I have higher claims to satisfy than a spoilt lunch.
Tell the Mamsell that I've had my portrait taken,
and then discussed important matters with Herr Dr. Riemer.
- And right now I'm receiving the demoiselle Schopenhauer.
- Very well.
I proceed with my novella
and I'll be brief.
And who do you think appeared
suddenly in Weimar again?
Our foundling.
Ferdinand.
He came back from France
and went straight to Ottilie.
- Who is it?
- Ferdinand.
Ferdinand.
Ferdinand.
It would take more than that to finish me off!
Here I am.
- Come in.
- Passing through Weimar on my way back to Silesia.
Belgian lard.
Ferdinand!
Lard from Belgium.
Ferdinand.
I'll fetch mama.
Mama.
Me, the friend,
you never invite me,
when you celebrate reunion with your Teutonic oaf.
or have coffee.
or sing songs.
I love to sing too.
Very much.
This is a betrayal of our friendship.
a betrayal of my person.
Committed with a strapping fool and Teutonic oaf.
Yes, I still love Napoleon!
And all that German nationalistic ado ...
disgusts me.
And I abhor that scourge of humanity
whose name I won't even utter,
and I'm a fervent admirer of the youth
and its glorious uprising against him.
yes yes yes
Say it again.
And I abhor that scourge of humanity.
Yes, absolutely.
You Schopenhauer ...
It's all over.
It's all over between you and me.
As far as I'm concerned,
you don't exist anymore.
All over.
He's running after low women now.
It's only 5 o'clock.
And he'll get drunk again,
till the cock crows.
There he is.
Hey!
- Can you give evidence.
- No. - Come along.
Forward march.
His latest mistress is the wife of a hussar
who tolerates the affair.
The wench is a tall drink of water
and a slut.
He calls her "his life's delight".
- No way!
- But he did "You're my life's delight"
Out of vanity she herself spread it around.
I could kill the wench.
And I'd like to inform you all of a little surprise.
Right before Christmas
Ferdinand will definitely buzz off.
Home to Breslau.
- Really?
- Really.
In Prussian Silesia a beloved bride awaits me.
I intend to marry her.
Congratulations, my friend.
Thank you.
My heartfelt congratulations.
Our heartfelt congratulations,
with regrets.
We have a bridegroom among us.
Heartfelt, with regrets.
What's the matter, dearest?
Tillemuse?
Could you now resist
if August von Goethe tried a new approach?
A few days ago I met August von Goethe.
He talked about our future union
as if it had already been decided,
dearest Adelmuse.
And besides, Herr Chamberlain von Goethe is here.
The son. The son.
Lupus in fabula.
Mager, I must not meet the Herr Chamberlain.
You will have to smuggle me past him somehow.
I know the delicacy of the social relations
and how you can never tell what may happen.
I've asked the Herr Chamberlain
to wait in the tap-room downstairs.
He is having a glass of Madeira
and I've set the bottle at his elbow.
So I am in a position to conduct
the demoiselle safely through the hall.
My dear Frau Councillor,
save Ottilie.
You might use your influence,
might presume to do so.
You might be August's mother.
Ottilie might be your daughter.
She looks as though she were;
that's why she is today in the same danger
you yourself once escaped.
Ottilie is the image of your youth,
as such she is beloved.
As a mother,
save Ottilie from being sacrificed to a fascination.
Your husband, my dear lady, has passed away.
The woman who became August's mother is no more.
You are alone with the father.
My good child,
you plunge me into situations,
trying to make an old woman
believe in a return of her former self,
grant me maternal rights over his son!
it would appear as if I undertook this journey of mine ...
Frau Councillor will see you now.
Herr Chamberlain von Goethe.
I thank you for your kind reception.
If you like each other,
then get married.
Do it for his sake.
And be happy.
in your upper stories ???
I'm in no position to advise you against it.
God bless you.
God bless you, my child.
God bless you, my child.
Hallo everybody.
How do you do?
- Nice day.
- Yes indeed.
Herr Mager.
??? must come
It'll be dark soon.
I'm supervising.
How do you do?
How do you do?
the morning of the 23rd September
Alas, that it should vanish!
That my bright vision of the depths
must end so soon,
as though the whim of a genie gave it
and as suddenly snatched it away - it fades into nothing,
and I emerge.
It was so lovely.
And now what?
Where are we?
Jena?
Berka?
Tennstdt?
No.
This is the Weimar coverlet.
Silken.
The familiar hangings on the walls,
the bell-pull.
What's this? Powerfully aroused?
Mightily festooned?
Good show, old fellow.
Then you too should rejoice,
sprightly dotard.
Oh, sister.
So they mistrust my Germanhood,
they feel it's an abuse,
and my fame causes them hate and anguish.
Do your best to fend me off,
still I stand for you,
even though they've been shitting on my poetry,
emptying their bellies.
Did Your Excellency say something to me?
What? Have I been speaking aloud?
No, I was only talking to myself.
In old age, you known,
people start mumbling to themselves.
Who is it?
A good day, father.
Oh, it's you August, come in.
Am I disturbing?
You're putting your papers away so fast?
Disturbing? What does it mean, my child?
Everything disturbs.
It all depends on
whether the disturbance is welcome or not.
Yes, that's the question, even now.
What news are you bringing?
A visitor has arrived, father.
A female visitor.
A visitor from far away,
and out of the past.
She's staying at the Elephant.
I heard the news
before her letter came.
Yesterday.
The town is all agog.
An old acquaintance.
An acquaintance?
Old?
Don't make such a fuss.
Weimar, the 22nd. That was yesterday.
"to look once more upon a face which has ...
become famous to the world."
"ne ...
Curious.
This is what I call a curious thing to happen.
Don't you?
This is a hyalite.
A glass opal.
A crystal.
They've sent it from Frankfurt,
for my collection.
How goes the hay-making in the big garden?
It's done, father.
But I'm cross with the farmer
who again won't pay.
He thinks we owe him something
for the mowing and transport.
How long do you think
the poor soul worked over this little note?
People are careful when they write to you.
It makes me feel uncomfortable.
The is the discipline of culture
you exact from us all.
When I'm dead, they'll all say "Ugh"
and express themselves like pigs again.
You mentioned some gossip in town
about the event?
Quite a bit.
Crowds in front of the inn.
They wanted to see the heroine
of Werther's Sorrows.
Couldn't the old hag have refrained,
and have spared me this?
She wants to nibble a piece of fate herself.
Little she knows how close together
fame and notoriety lie.
We'll give a luncheon,
for small company.
But otherwise we'll keep aloof
and give the sensation-mongers nothing to feed on.
In front of the house on the Frauenplan
other guests arriving were already being greeted.
Dr. Riemer,
Herr Stephan Schtze,
excellent belletrist
and editor of albums,
Charlotte learned.
Chamberlain Meyer,
the art professor.
"Art-Meyer"
Riemer jocosely declined
to be introduced to Lotte:
"Frau Councillor would remember
an old friend of three days' standing"
Let us hope that we're fortunate to find the master
in a good and lively key, not taciturn and scruffy,
otherwise we'd have the distressing feeling
to be burden for him.
I know the master of this house
even longer than yourself, Herr Professor,
and I am not unfamiliar
with the variable moods of the poet.
The newer acquaintance is after all the more authentic.
SALVE
Pardon.
... Talking of "taciturn"
"scruffy".
But the boy did good.
He lived more modestly in the Corn Market at Wetzlar.
There he had my silhouette on the wall,
morning and evening he greeted it with eyes and lips,
it's all in the book.
It's all in the book.
Frau Councillor Kestner.
Herr and Frau Chamberlain Riedel.
Herr and Frau Chamberlain Kirms.
Let me present my wife.
- My daughter Lotte.
- Madame Riemer.
Madame Meyer.
Superintendent of Mines, Werner.
Such excitement, Frau Councillor.
One knows who you are.
Your dress, Frau Councillor,
how meaningful, how charming.
The whole dress - an allusion.
And one knows what you're alluding to.
Oh, Lotte!
May I call you Lotte?
What a moment!
You in Weimar!
In this house!
Well, my daughter ...
My husband has talked much about you, my dear.
How nice to meet you at last.
It's superb.
A copy of the so-called Aldobrandini Marriage.
Prof. Meyer most kindly made it.
Very beautiful.
Very beautiful.
We seem to be our full count,
and let us hope our host will present himself without delay.
It is comprehensible that new-comers should feel
a certain nervousness in these last long minutes,
though they should rejoice
to be able to accustom themselves beforehand
to the surroundings and atmosphere.
What I mean is that it is always "besht"
to conceal as much as possible one's tension
and to greet him with no sign of stress.
That sensibly lightens the strain for both sides.
For the master and for yourself.
For he is sensitive to the guests' nervousness
and shares it with him;
he gets the contagion, so to speak, from afar.
It is distinctly the sensible thing to be entirely natural.
One doesn't have to entertain him on high intellectual themes,
as for example his own works.
Nothing is more ill-judged.
It's much wiser to chat about harmless matters
within one's own experience.
Needless to say,
I don't mean to encourage any indecent familiarities.
Thank you very much, Herr Councillor,
for your suggestions.
Many must have already been grateful for them.
But we must not forget
that in this case we are dealing with the renewal
of an acquaintance of 44 years' standing.
A man who is a different person
from day to day and from hour to hour
will certainly have become a different person in 44 years.
Well, Carl, what sort of mood are we in today?
Pretty jolly, on the whole, Herr Chamberlain.
His Excellency.
Good God!
My dear ladies,
at last I can welcome you with my own lips to Weimar!
You behold a man to whom the time has seemed long
until this moment.
I call this a capital surprise.
How it must rejoice the heart of our dear Riedels,
this dearly desired visit!
We need not say
how much we treasure it.
Your Excellency,
It has been my ardent wish to bring to your notice
my daughter, Charlotte, my second youngest,
here on a visit from her home in Alsace.
Pretty, pretty, pretty.
These eyes have probably done
some mischief among the men.
In any case, it is very charming that of the little group
whose silhouettes our dear departed Councillor sent me,
I behold at least one member in natura.
Time brings one everything, if one will but wait.
These equally lovely women are your friends,
these dignified gentlemen your admirers.
My dear ... my dear
Do you think Goethe has changed?
You ought to know.
Tell us, dearest.
Has he changed?
He has, hasn't he?
Has he changed?
My dear, theology, you know, is nothing but ...
I have such a ...
Dear friends,
let's have our soup.
Let us give thanks to the Heavenly Powers,
dear friends,
for vouchsafing so happy an occasion
for this joyous meeting.
Let us enjoy the modest,
yet well and truly prepared meal.
We hold with the patriarchal custom
of pouring out for ourselves.
Our dear Germans are a crack-brained lot,
and have always worked their prophets
as hard as the Jews theirs,
but their wines are the noblest gift of God.
His Excellence forgets to reckon to the credit
of these worthless Germans that they produced you.
What would you like to drink?
Oh, that's my Eger water.
Your inclination counsels you well,
I am never without this mineral water.
Of all the temperance drinks in the world
I've had the best experience with it.
I get a yearly a delivery of this water
here in Weimar.
Allow me to pour ...
Dear friends.
Let's not forget.
Chamberlain Kirms
is deserving of the rewards of the State,
he's a capital economist.
Yet a friend of the muses,
and a sensitive amateur of the dramatic arts.
Invaluable as a member of the newly established
board of management at the Court Theatre.
You ought to form an opinion
of the capacities of the Weimar stage.
During a carriage drive in Bohemia,
coming from Marienbad,
the state of road fit to break one's neck,
the the driver knew his business so well
that Napoleon, had he seen the man,
would certainly have made him his personal coachman.
And then, as we bumped along at a slow pace up the steep road,
I see something by the wayside.
I get out to look at the thing.
Well, how did you get here?
Well, how did you get here?
Well, how did you get here, I ask him.
For what was looking at me,
shining in the dirt?
A feldspar twin crystal!
In the Grand-Ducal library is an old terrestrial globe
whereon were short and very apt inscriptions
describing the characters of various peoples.
Very apt.
About Germany, the old globe wrote,
I've no idea who made it,
"The Germans are a people
displaying great likeness to the Chinese."
Isn't that funny?
Yet with something apt about it too,
when one thinks of the German pleasure
in titles and ranks,
their bred-in-the-bone respect for scholarship.
Of course such aperus upon folk-psychology
always have something arbitrary about them.
The comparison fits the French even better,
with their democratic radicalism.
The Chinese, Confucius' fellow countrymen,
had a saying that
"the great man is a national misfortune."
Charlotte alone sat on the defensive, stiffly upright,
her forget-me-not eyes wide with alarm.
The same dread as before
was running cold down her back,
lest the too loud laughter round the table
might be hiding an evil
that threatened in a reckless moment to burst forth:
Somebody might spring up,
overturn the table, and scream out:
"The Chinese are right!
The great man is a national misfortune."
Such a saying is certainly poor evidence
for the wisdom of that globe.
The individual is dear to us Germans -
and rightly so,
for only in him are we great.
That being true, far more than with other nations,
the relation between the individual and the general,
has its melancholy and awkward side too.
Beyond a doubt, it was more than mere chance
that the natural taedium vitae of Frederick II.'s old age
expressed itself in the remark:
"I am tired of ruling over slaves."
Won't you have a minimum of the compote?
I must tell you something.
I ...
I must tell you something
all the popes and their memorial coins,
a complete set, of course,
please notice the detail
Dear Herr Schtze,
your album "Love and Friendship",
entertaining and instructive,
I can't think of a better editor than yourself.
And your own humorous contributions
should be published in a separate collection.
I've toyed with the idea myself,
but I still have doubts ...
No, no, they must be put in a collection.
When the time comes, the autumn of life,
the harvest must be gathered and stored.
Now it remains to find a good title
for your collection of humorous writings.
"Happy hours", I thought that might be
a title for the collection.
Excellent. I myself couldn't have found a better title.
Excuse me.
What did you talk about with His Excellency?
So you will leave me, children, all of you at once?
Well, no one can blame you
for returning to your own duties and pleasures.
Adieu, adieu.
Our dear superintendent of mines must stay a bit longer.
I have something interesting for you back in my study:
fossilized fresh-water snails.
My esteemed friend, farewell.
Life has held us sundered far too long,
so I cannot expect to meet you often during your sojourn.
No thanks! Until then, adieu.
Adieu.
Adieu, ladies.
Adieu, gentlemen.
Lotte stayed another three weeks in Weimar,
and stayed all the time with Lottchen,
her daughter, at the Elephant inn.
Goethe sent her another note.
Should you care, my dear friend,
to use my box at the theatre this evening,
my carriage will fetch you.
Forgive me for not coming myself,
my servant will escort you through the parterre.
Well, Carl, it was very beautiful.
I've enjoyed myself very much.
Oh Lotte, Lotte, Werther's Lotte.
Calm yourself, my dear.
Oh, Lotte.
Immortal beloved.
Good evening, my dear.
Goethe?
My God, that he can be such a good boy.
It was silly of me
to drape my present form with emblems of the past.
After all, you don't display the poor taste to go about
in the blue coat with the yellow waistcoat and trousers,
like many enthousiastic youngsters in those days.
I've angered you, my dear.
But did I not wait for you in the carriage
to face this painful anger,
perhaps soften it by a heart-felt plea for forgiveness,
because of the Werther book?
Oh, my God!
How can Your Excellence condescend ...
My pride,
my happiness ...
I am to forgive you?
There is something frightful, let me tell you,
about atrophying.
We humbler folk must avoid it,
we must brace ourselves against it with all our strength,
even though our heads quiver with the strain;
for else there is nothing left for us,
but a mound in the Baden county.
With you it was different.
You had something to put to it.
Your reality is magnificent,
not like renunciation, or unfaithfulness;
but like purer fulfillment and a highest faithfulness.
It is so imposing.
I congratulate you.
So perfectly at ease I did not feel in your presence,
in your circle and your museum of a house.
I was oppressed and fearful, I admit.
It smells too much of sacrifice
where you are.
And against human sacrifice
Iphigenie interferes.
Alas, in your circle it looks too much the same;
it is almost like a battlefield,
or the realm of a wicked emperor.
Those Riemers with their mutterings and grumblings
and their manly honour floundering about in the bird-lime;
and your poor son
with his 17 glasses of champagne,
and this little person who will marry him at the New Year
and fly into your upper rooms,
like a moth to the candle.
To say nothing about the girls
who did not know how to stand up as I did,
who married her Hans Christian and gave him 11 children.
So consumption took them off to lie under their mounds -
like the poor Friederike von Sesenheim.
What are they all
but sacrifices to your greatness?
He shall kiss her too.
Dear old child-like soul,
I, first and last, am the sacrifice,
and he that offers it.
Once I burned for you,
and ever I shall burn for you, into spirit and light.
Know that metamorphosis is the dearest and most inward of your friend,
his great hope, his deepest craving,
the play of transformation,
the changing of the human countenance,
youth like a miracle shining out in age, age out of youth.
That why it pleased me, rest reassured,
that you thought it out and came to me,
decking your ancient form with signs of youth.
Let us open wide eyes upon the unity of the world
- eyes wide, serene, and wise.
Don't talk to me of repentance.
I see her ride towards me,
in a grey mantle.
Then once more
the hour of Werther and Tasso will strike,
leave-taking for ever,
death-struggle of feelings,
and frightful pains,
such as probably precede the hour of death.
Death.
Final flight into the flame -
the All-in-One.
Why shouldn't he too be aught but transformation?
Peace to your old age.
The long-familiar accents died away.
Frau Councillor, welcome, as always.
I hope Frau Councillor spent an elevating evening
in our temple of the Muses?
May I offer this arm for your support?
Frau Councillor!
Good heavens, Frau Councillor,
I cannot refrain
- I really must say:
to help Werther's Lotte out of Goethe's carriage,
that is an experience that
- what shall I call it?
It's worthy to be put down in a book.
It's positively worthy to be put down in a book.
(using large parts of H.T. Lowe-Porter's translation)
Lottchen! Dearest Lottchen!
Keep - those - feet - moving.
Into battle, my hero, my Fingal!
[Ossian: Fingal in Lochlin]
Mama, wake up!
Don't dream so shamelessly.
I can't stand it,
listening to your moaning.
Where are we, my child?
On the Weimar chausse.
Lotte in Weimar
(The Beloved Returns)
Through all the Transoxonians' blare and clashings hollow,
Our song grows bold and still will dare thy steps to follow!
Living in thee, no wrong our spirits can whelm;
Prince, may thy life be long,
endless thy realm !
[West-Eastern Divan, book 4, transl. E. Dowden]
A good day, my friend.
- We need rooms for three.
- Very well.
Our hotel is, as usual, well occupied,
but we will spare no pains to satisfy the ladies' needs.
If you please...
... among the abilities ...
you see, sir ...
I beg your pardon?
Never mind.
How do you like Weimar?
Oh, excellent. It's nice.
Frau Elmenreich, the proprietress,
will be pleased to receive you.
Room 27.
But I cannot oblige with a single room.
The Mamsell will have to share her room
with the maid of the Countess of Larisch from Erfurt.
We have at the moment many guests
who bring their own servants.
I'm sure they'll get along.
So, shall we go?
- Presently, Madame.
In Heaven's name pray write us a few lines.
It seems as though laws and rules kept on
propagating themselves like a disease.
Would the lady be so gracious?
I see.
He's an intellectual.
Well-read and knows his literary quotations.
Yes, I've just come from Vienna.
Oh, Wien! Is that so?
That's it.
How clumsy.
If you please.
I most humbly beg your pardon if my question
- it is not actuated by unseemly curiosity,
but - have we the honour to be entertaining
Frau Councillor Kestner, Madame Charlotte Kestner,
ne Buff, of Wetzlar ... ?
- The same.
- Certainly, certainly.
But I mean - of course it cannot - I mean - it cannot be the same Charlotte -
or Lotte for short - Kestner,
ne Buff, from the house
of the Teutonic Order at Wetzlar, the former -
The very same, my friend.
But I am not "former" at all,
I am present in the flesh and want to be shown ...
This very instant!
Goodness - gracious me!
Frau Councillor! Then our house has the honour and distinction
of entertaining the actual original - if I may so express myself -
in short: Werther's Lotte?
Indeed, my friend, but
that should be a reason more
for showing us tired ladies to our room ...
- This very instant! Only...
Room 27. Good gracious, that's two stairs up.
But we never dreamed ...
Frau Councillor, you must forgive me.
As you can see, all the walls have a fresh coat of paint.
Since the visit of the Don Cossacks in 1813
we've had to renovate completely.
Yet I should not give the Cossacks
all the credit for our improvements.
We had Prussian and Hungarian hussars in the house as well
- to say nothing of the French who came before them!
Here we are!
Frau Councillor, if you please.
Allow me to lead the way.
Very nice.
The bell-pull.
Of course I shall see to it personally
that you'll get hot water.
My friend, we are unspoilt people
with simple tastes, we're well provided for ...
- and we'd like to have some rest ...
- Good Heavens, Frau Councillor!
Such an event!
Worthy to be put down in a book.
Frau Councillor must be used to her situation
and cannot guess
at the emotions that must animate the soul of a man,
literary from youth up, to whom now, all undreamt of
- to whom is vouchsafed acquaintance with -
is vouchsafed the sight of
a being so surrounded with the effulgence of poesy and,
as it were,
borne up on fiery arms to the heaven of immortal fame...
My good man, I am just a simple old lady
with no pretensions,
You have such an unusual and high-flown way
of expressing yourself ...
My name is Mager.
Char-lo-tte
I run on and on, Frau Councillor, and all of a sudden
it comes over me in a burning flash
that I have not even asked Frau Councillor
if she has had coffee!
Thank you, my friend, we took it betimes.
By the way, my dear Herr Mag...
Mager,
you go too far, you greatly exaggerate,
when you simply identify me,
or even the young thing I once was,
with the heroine of that much lauded book, the "Werther".
But the character in the novel
is quite different and distinct from my former self.
For instance, anyone can see that my eyes are blue,
whereas Werther's Lotte is well known to have black ones.
A poetic license!
As though we did not know what that is,
a poetic license.
What if the author did avail himself to some small extent of
- what if he did play hide-and-seek to mystify us ...
No, no, the black eyes are from quite another source.
If Frau Councillor is not, down to the very last hair, the Lotte of Werther,
she is, even so, in every particular the Lotte of Goethe.
My worthy fellow!
My conduct, I know, is unpardonable.
Frau Councillor,
- you haven't seen the Privy Councillor [Goethe] since ...
- 44 years.
- You haven't seen him again?
- I only know the young Legal Assistant,
Dr. Goethe of the Gewandsgasse in Wetzlar.
The Minister of State for the Duchy of Weimar,
the famous poet, I have never beheld with my own eyes.
It is too much.
And so the Frau Councillor has come to Weimar to ...
- To visit my youngest sister, Frau Chamberlain Riedel!
- Esplanade no. 6.
Is it far from here to the Esplanade?
In Weimar there are no distances.
Our greatness is of the spirit alone.
But now make haste
and show my maid her quarters,
for I shall soon have need of her.
Yes, and on the way, you can tell me
where the author lives who wrote the wonderful Rinaldo.
[Christian August Vulpius, Goethe's brother-in-law]
Oh, what a ravishing book!
I've read it five times without stopping.
Do you think we might chance
to see him in the street?
Only one single word, Frau Councillor.
That very last scene before Werther takes his leave,
that heartrending scene between the three of you,
in the house of the Teutonic Order at Wetzlar,
Werther grasps Lotte's hand and cries:
"We shall meet again!"
In all the world we shall know each other's forms again!"
The Privy Councillor did not make it up, didn't he?
That was real, wasn't it? It actually happened?
Yes. No.
Yes and no.
But go now. Go!
So now your crown of glory stands revealed.
Ah, child.
Goethe in his memoirs complains
that people pester him all the time.
But see how men think only of themselves!
He never once reflects all the harm he did to us,
to your dear, departed father and me,
with his wicked mixture of truth and make-believe.
And black and blue eyes.
I know exactly where he took that from.
Litte Dorte, our neighbour's daughter.
Her eyes were pitch-black.
And from somewhere else.
Mama, there's a ribbon missing.
Do you really want to wear it like this?
All those allusions.
Oh, Lottchen,
you have no mind for some fun.
The librarian Vulpius, author of that glorious work Rinaldo,
is brother-in-law to Herr von Goethe to boot.
It is high time for you both
to be off to the Esplanade, to Aunt Amalia,
to announce our arrival.
Being an old lady, I must lie down
and rest for an hour or so.
I will follow you, as soon as I'm refreshed.
My honoured friend:
I am paying a visit to my sister,
with my daughter Charlotte,
for a few days in your town.
It is my wish to present my child to you;
and to look once more upon a face
which has become famous to all the world.
Weimar, Hotel Elephant, 22nd September 1816.
Your Charlotte Kestner, ne Buff.
Does it hurt?
Not at all.
Alas, I've never experienced all that.
It was never so tempestuous.
He only wrote it down that way.
Come in, little Clara.
Good day.
My child! You're already here.
How tall you are.
And where's dear Lottchen?
She's resting.
Come along!
Take the brat.
Make way.
The kiss won't remain our secret,
I shall tell my fianc.
He's kissed me.
On my lips.
On your lips?
Really?
He may well act the philanderer
for the time he's here.
His blue coat.
Yellow waistcoat, yellow pants.
Loafing.
The engaged couple now decided
to keep the beloved third party at a distance.
"so that he'll adapt himself to it",
Lottchen said.
He can never expect anything else from me,
besides good friendship.
Then he pulled a face.
Send it to him.
So that he'll have at least a souvenir.
We'll send it to him.
And the pocket Homer.
Translation by Vossen.
I am leaving you both in happiness
and will remain in your hearts.
Adieu.
A thousand times, adieu.
I am leaving you both in happiness
and will remain in your hearts. Adieu.
A thousand times, adieu.
He's gone.
He's gone.
He's gone.
He's gone.
He's gone.
He's gone.
He's gone.
He's gone.
He's ... he's ...
He's gone.
He's gone, Lottchen, isn't he?
He's gone.
He won't come back.
He's gone.
He - is - gone.
He's gone. He's gone.
He's gone! He's ...
the brute!
So senseless.
He almost stole from Kestner his beloved.
Almost.
With his aimless, untrustworthy wooing,
and the
irresponsible kiss.
The heroes flew,
like two black clouds
two black clouds,
chariots of the spirits
when the dark children of the air arrive,
to frighten the unhappy humans
[Ossian's songs]
What's the matter?
It's so good,
so extremely good.
Hans Christian,
Hans Christian is away on business again.
This is the house on the Frauenplan.
The prince of intellects.
What is it?
You cannot come in now.
It is only Mager.
I beg your pardon, Frau Councillor,
there's a lady here,
Miss Cuzzle from no. 19,
an English lady, a guest of our house.
Well?
Miss Cuzzle is apprised of Frau Councillor's
presence in the city and in this hotel,
and she urgently begs to be received,
if only for the briefest duration.
Tell the lady that I'm not dressed,
that I must go out directly, and that I regret.
I have no need to tell Miss Cuzzle,
she can hear herself, for she stands beside me.
She wants to have just a look for you.
If you please.
It would be very interesting for me
to see you only for a minute.
I wonder what's keeping dear Charlotte?
She's a draughtswoman.
She's already drawn portraits
of famous persons of half the world.
Metternich, Talleyrand,
Blcher, the Czar,
Kant's birthplace, Napoleon,
Schiller's widow,
everything signed too.
My dear, my dear!
You are Werther's Lotte,
aren't you?
Lotte?
Herself.
In Abruzzo a drew a ...
bandit-chief?
a captain of highway robbers.
A captain of highway robbers?
A genuine bandit-chief.
He escorted me back to safety later,
so that nothing should happen to me.
Escorted you?
I beg your pardon,
I regret to interrupt.
But Herr Dr. Riemer would deem it a favour
if he might present his respects to the Frau Councillor.
What is it, Mager?
Herr Doctor Riemer? What Herr Doctor Riemer?
Are you announcing another caller?
What can you be thinking of! I must dress and go out.
What time is it?
Farewell, my dear child. I'm expected elsewhere.
Tell the gentleman
that I've already left.
Very well.
But the visitor is Dr. Friedrich Wilhelm Riemer,
the confidant and companion
to His Excellency the Privy Councillor.
It might not be impossible
that Herr Doctor bears a message ...
In my nightgown,
and the disorder of this room? No! No!
There's a parlour on the first floor.
Ah, yes.
That might be ...
???
Am I like that?
Yes, it has a certain likeness.
You want my signature?
A most valuable sheet.
And a document of permanent significance.
In here please.
But I've no time.
- I'm in a hurry.
- If you please.
By the way, it was not at all easy
to get access to you.
Not easy?
If Frau Councillor would care to ascertain herself ...
Good Heavens!
It's the doing of that disastrous enthousiast,
that Mager.
Get back, everybody.
Get back.
People, be reasonable.
Get back.
The town is like a stirred-up ant-hill.
Everybody is hoping to catch a glimpse of your person.
Those people at the entrance
are waiting for you to leave the house.
That Mager!
Make way.
Disperse.
Great things are going on here today.
Keep back.
Don't push.
You can't disturb the master now.
Yes.
For nine years I served the genius.
And since four years I teach at the local Gymnasium.
It became a matter of manly honour;
in one way or another I had stand on my own feet.
One might ask why my illustrious friendship
with the Privy Councillor
did not to procure the position at a German University
I was yearning for.
But no. The rewarding little word
from a high source was not forthcoming.
Great men have other things on their minds -
they cannot dwell on the individual welfare of their servants,
no matter how deserving they might have been.
I'm listening with great interest.
But tell me,
all humanity knows quite well
that you and your dear departed husband have suffered
because of the indiscretions of the genius,
mixing truth and fiction with that dangerous art.
You have suffered from the ruthlessness,
the offence against loyalty,
when he went behind the backs of his friends, secretly,
to desecrate the tenderest relations
that can exist between three persons.
But weren't you ...
weren't you happy in his service?
But I was, my dear lady.
Just imagine: the daily contact,
the daily intercourse with such a man!
An incalculable genius,
as I was poet enough to perceive.
Careful.
Always in a hurry.
Hello, I'm so glad to see you.
I'm very glad, yes.
I didn't see you.
Come in.
Often he made me think of a Damascene blade,
though I have forgotten the precise connection;
or of a Leyden jar,
in the sense that he was charged,
highly charged.
He had, as I remember,
a peculiarly open gaze.
- Has he the same eyes today, I wonder?
- The eyes.
The eyes are often powerful.
Why shouldn't I ask you,
what I've asked myself so often in those past 44 years?
What sort of youth is that,
who himself fails in that independent seeking out and finding,
and comes along, a third party, to make love to a girl
whose bloom is destined for another?
Who is infatuated with the love he sees in others,
settles himself on their preserve,
and indulges himself in feasting at another's board?
This falling in love with a bride -
I have wrecked my brains about it
through all the years.
A poem, he once said,
is nothing after all.
A poem is like a kiss you give to the world.
But from kisses you don't get pregnant.
But you were going to say something?
A thunderstorm!
Calm down.
I'll close the window.
Don't be afraid,
the thunderstorm will pass.
Let's close the windows.
Don't be afraid.
Look at that rain.
Let's play a game.
Let's play "numbers".
And he who doesn't know the number...
three hundred ...
three hundred ...
It's stopped raining.
Let's go outside.
Let's take a walk to Woltershausen.
You fool.
Why are you flirting with the bride?
You're such a flirt,
spoiling it for everybody.
Look at the Junoesque girl over there.
The black-eyed Dorothea.
Go to her.
She's the girl for you.
She's unattached and free.
But you only like it
when you can spoil things for others.
Come along, both of you.
We're leaving.
With Maxi La Roche,
and the Brentano woman in Frankfurt,
he used to hang around them as well,
until the husband ...
made a scene.
She was black-eyed too,
not only Dortelchen.
And he's supposed to have had their eyes in mind,
that's what people say.
And some even have the effrontery to claim
that Werther's Lotte was no more like me
than like some other woman ...
That's absurd!
Just on account of a pair of black eyes ...
am I to be obliterated as Lotter after all?
You've all been waiting for 3 hours now.
But it's of no use.
Please let the "Mister" pass through to the Elephant.
What must the foreigner think of us?
What's going on here?
Is this a happening?
Step back.
People!
How do you explain that real scholars consider themselves honoured
when they gather about the genius and pay him court,
purvey knowledge to him, act as his living encyclopedia.
How do you explain that a man like myself,
with a silly smile on his face,
for years will do common duties as a scribe.
But surely they were not merely the low services of a scribe
you gave for so long to the master...
No, I didn't mean that.
Or if I did say so, I went too far.
In the first place, all labours of love know no rank,
I am not speaking of that.
And, indeed, to take from his dictation
is no job for an ordinary quill-driver.
Only such a scholar like myself can appraise at its real value,
the whole beauty, charm, and marvel of the situation,
and so be worthy of it,
of holding such an office.
One makes plans,
sends out invitations, looks forward to it,
in a good mood,
clean-shaven,
taken the day off from duty...
The food's cold now.
Do you understand what that means:
falling in love with a bride?
And how one can wreck one's brains about it,
for years?
It was like that for me, because, try as I would,
I could not put out of my mind a certain word:
the word
"parasite".
When you found courage
to utter that word,
you could count on my having the courage to hear it.
We were both shocked into silence for a moment,
but it was only due to the ...
divine adumbrations and echoes
which we heard ringing in that word.
You haven't yet risen to that height of thought:
A divinity alights and broods upon the human.
Well, all that was not to be taken seriously.
Although it almost broke my heart.
And indeed the divine is not to be taken quite seriously,
when it lodges temporarily in the human form.
The earthly bridegroom is justified in saying to himself:
"No matter, that is only a god."
And after he was gone,
then it really started.
The book appeared
and I became the immortal beloved.
God forbid!
When we drove to the ball, in the carriage
with my cousins, and talked about the pleasure of dancing,
I prattled on, never dreaming, God knows,
that I was prattling for the centuries,
and that my words were to stand for ever in cold print!
I would have held my tongue otherwise.
Come in.
I beg your pardon.
Frau Councillor.
Mager! Again!
For more than 40 minutes another visitor has been waiting,
a lady of Weimar society, in hope to be admitted.
I could not longer delay to announce her.
This is too much!
For the past three hours I have been about to go out
to visit my relatives who must be worried by now.
Who is the visitor?
Demoiselle Schopenhauer.
With Madame Schopenhauer
the Master used to spend his evenings at the time.
I thank you for this hour.
It was two hours,
if I may be allowed to note it in passing.
And as the midday meal has been thus delayed,
before I introduce Mademoiselle Schopenhauer,
a cup of bouillon with biscuits,
or a delightful glass of Hungarian wine?
I have no appetite.
In God's name, ask the young lady to come in,
but bear in mind that I have only a few minutes left
to see the demoiselle,
my relatives are expecting me.
Very well, Frau Councillor.
If Frau Councillor would just permit me to come back
to my suggestion about refreshments.
It would certainly do you good,
so that Frau Councillor might then be inclined
towards the proposal of my friend Rhrig, the city beadle.
- And? - He is keeping order down below,
in front of the house,
- and I just met him in the hall.
- So?
The populace would be easier to disperse,
if Frau Councillor would show herself
at the open window for a moment.
Out of the question!
This is a ridiculous, an absurd proposal.
Nonsense!
Frau Councillor knows best.
But let me remark that after a refreshment
you might see matters in a different light.
I will inform Demoiselle Schopenhauer now.
What about it?
She doesn't want to.
She hasn't a clue about publicity.
Frau Councillor,
words fail me to convey my gratitude for your kindness
in granting me the happiness of paying you my homage.
I do so not only in my own modest person,
but also in the name, if not precisely by commission, of our Muses' Circle,
whose spirit and fine solidarity has brilliantly proved its worth
on the thrilling occasion of your presence here.
For it was, indeed, one of our members,
my beloved friend the Countess Line Egloffstein,
who brought me the news on swiftest wing.
My conscience whispers to me
that I should in return have informed Museline -
pardon me, that is the name Line Egloffstein goes by in our club,
we all have such names, you would laugh if I told you -
that I should have informed Line,
for very likely she would have come too.
But in the first place ...
and secondly I had important reasons for bidding you,
Frau Councillor, welcome to Weimar alone,
and to see you in private.
Asters, larkspurs, and petunias.
My dear child.
This is a good region for flowers.
Flora is propitious to us.
The Erfurt flower seeds have been renowned
for over a century.
Radeberger.
[brand of beer]
A mere trifle.
My own handiwork and a modest welcome gift
from our Muses' Circle.
This is the Museline I spoke of.
She sings divinely and is the favourite lady-in-waiting
of our Grand-Duchess, the Hereditary Princess.
That one is Julie, her pretty sister,
a painter, called Julemuse.
And here am I,
Adelmuse,
quite unflattering, you will admit.
And the one with her arm round me is Tillemuse -
Ottilie von Pogwisch - a charming head, don't you think?
Very charming.
Very charming.
Nothing. She won't show herself.
If she doesn't show herself,
then we must get in.
The august guest might come out very soon.
Please refrain from annoying her.
I'm asking you nicely.
I saw Uncle Riemer as he left.
What, is he your uncle?
Not really. I have called him that since I was a child,
as I did all the other regular guests
at Mama's Sunday and Thursday teas.
Meyers and Schtzes and Falcks,
Baron Einsiedel, Major von Knebel, Legation Counsellor Bertuch,
Grimm, Prince Pckler,
the Schlegel brothers and the Savignys.
I called them all uncle and aunt, I even said uncle to Wieland.
And you call Goethe uncle too?
No, not him.
But I called the Frau Privy Councillor aunt.
- The Vulpius woman?
- Yes, the lately deceased Frau von Goethe.
Is it true that ...
her conduct left something to be desired?
Yes, she was common.
De mortuis nil nisi bene.
- Pardon?
- Never speak ill of the dead.
A glutton and garrulous, with fearfully red cheeks;
crazy about dancing, and [loved the bottle more than she should]
Sledge rides and student balls;
and the Jena fraternities played all sorts of pranks ...
And Goethe tolerated such goings-on?
He shut his eyes,
and probably sanctioned them to some extent;
on the ground, I suspect, that they gave him a sort of right
to salvage his own emotional freedom.
A poetic genius, it seems to me,
cannot draw his literary inspiration
exclusively from his married life.
My dear child!
You have very broad, very strong-minded views.
I am a Weimarian,
we hold Amor in great esteem.
???
Don't you think it's interesting,
Aunt Vulpius, I mean, Frau Privy Councillcor,
always addressed Goethe with "Sie",
even after they were married.
And he?
He said "Du".
I see.
But the old Privy Councillor had better
not hear of the Muses' Circle meetings.
He doesn't care for it,
he called us "sentimental nanny-goats".
And why shouldn't he learn
about your aesthetic aspirations?
Because of the First Commandment.
How do you mean?
Thou shalt have no other gods before Me.
We are here, dearest lady, once more concerned
with the subject of tyranny.
A tyranny,
probably inseparable from a certain dominating greatness.
He is old, and great, and little inclined
to value what comes after him.
But life goes on,
it does not stop even at the greatest.
And we are children of the new life,
we Muselines and Julemuses and Adelmuse,
a new stock, not at all sentimental nanny-goats.
We are independent and progressive minds,
with the courage of the new times.
We know and love painters
like the good Cornelius, and Overbeck,
whose paintings he, I have heard him say so,
would rather fire his pistol at.
Fire his pistol?
David Caspar Friedrich's paintings, he says,
you might just as well look at them hanging upside down.
"It should not be allowed!" he thunders.
We let the Jovian thunder pass.
We read Uhland's poems
and E.T.A. Hoffmann's grotesque stories.
With great pleasure.
I do not know those authors.
Dearest Frau Councillor
- or may I say, esteemed friend?
My soul is full of self-reproaches;
I am guilty of wasting a great opportunity.
I prattle on carelessly,
and neglect the essential,
because I pray for
and count on your aid and advice.
What or whom is it about?
A dear human soul, my heart's treasure,
in a word: Tillemuse.
Tillemuse?
Pardon me, that's her muse-name in our circle,
Ottilie von Pogwisch.
And what unhappy fate
is threatening Frulein von Pogwitsch?
Pogwisch. She's about to become engaged.
Pray tell me, to whom?
To Herr Chamberlain von Goethe.
What! No! August, the son.
The son of the great man and the Mamsell.
And what is so apprehensive about this union?
The many defects of August's character.
His wild, gloomy and coarse traits,
his early and regrettably increasing inclinations
for the joys of alcohol.
Ottilie saw herself as the saviour from his daemon.
Until an event occurred,
a young man.
A young man?
This young man, and Ottilie ..
Let me proceed in good order.
Three or four years ago
the hour came of our liberation from Napoleon.
Goethe had left.
Our spiritual hero abandoned us,
as it were, before the enemy.
August, returning from Heidelberg,
again in Weimar,
and paid court to my Ottilie.
Listen to my story,
it's a charming one.
Napoleon had abandoned his army,
defeated in Russia.
Weimar was still occupied by the French,
but the patriotic rising was spreading here too.
Father has left for Karlsbad.
Because he's disgusted with your heated patriotic ado.
Oh, August.
I really don't know if I can agree with you.
Believe me, dear Adele,
during those long moments of silence our souls are united.
It is love.
He's been drinking again, Tillemuse.
Quite a lot.
He's plastered.
It doesn't bother me at all.
Do you want be to be alone?
One never knows.
Here you are, my dears.
# sul mare luccica
# l'astro d'argento
# Placida l'onda
# prospero il vento
# Venite all'agile
# Barchetta mia
# Santa Lucia, Santa Lucia
# Venite all'agile
# Barchetta mia
# Santa Lucia, Santa Lucia
# Con questo zeffiro
# cos soave
# oh! com' bello
# star sulla nave
# Su passeggeri
# venite via
# Santa Lucia, Santa Lucia
# Su passeggeri
# venite via
# Santa Lucia, Santa Lucia
It is love.
Earlier than expected
a handful of Blcher Hussars turned up in Weimar,
rounded up the soldiers of the French garrison ...
- vieille sorcire
- quand je reviendrais je te ferais ???
je te ferais un ???
son dossier
officier de l'arme franaise
??? vieillei sorcire, un dans le cou
But what's he saying?
and chased the captured French from Weimar.
L'empereur Napolon
Vive la France
Weimar is liberated.
Down with Napoleon.
August.
Yes, Weimar is liberated.
But Napoleon wasn't beaten yet.
French cavalry occupied Weimar again,
while Napoleon's main forces were marching on Leipzig,
for the decisive battle.
French cavalry.
They've come from Erfurt.
They're back and restore order.
Half of the city is burning.
They've taken quarters again in the Elephant.
Let's have a look at the chaos.
Heinke.
Ferdinand.
Heinke.
Jurist of Breslau,
volunteer rifleman, wounded in the thigh.
It's no longer bleeding.
- Are the French back in town?
- Yes they are.
I don't want to be taken prisoner.
I want to get well again,
crush Napoleon.
And burn down Paris.
But what will the ladies do with me now?
Don't fear. Sister ??? knows
and approves of our patriotic scheme.
Careful.
Ladies, please,
you must leave now.
And I need hot water.
Let's burn down Paris!
Please! Ladies!
Where does your ward originate from?
He's a jurist from Breslau,
the son of a Swedish fur trader.
- So not a nobleman?
- No, not at all.
And you're spoiling him with fancy foods.
Does he know something about poetry?
One doesn't have to,
when one incarnates it.
That's Mager. Don't come in!
Mager!
Mager, we don't want any coffee.
Who could drink coffee now?
Has one ...
Each day we visited our foundling,
the dear Ferdinand
Such confusion of hearts,
oh, such confusion!
Good day, Ferdinand.
Good day.
Good day, Ferdinand.
Good day.
Even cranberries.
For my mother's son.
And his corpus delicti.
Good Heavens, the milk.
The milk.
Cranberries without milk.
A bit more.
Open your mouth.
Like a good boy.
# with bow and arrow across mountains and valleys
# the rifleman comes along,
in the early morning light
# la la la
# la la la
My heart beats with joy when I see you,
Ferdinand.
I confess.
A sense of liberty and patriotism,
you epitomize it.
Did I already tell you how Germany's greatest poet
admonished me because of it?
Tell us, Dr. Passow.
Regarding a love of liberty and patriotism,
opposing the French oppression,
Goethe said to me,
in an angry voice,
"it is not enough to have pure and noble intentions."
"one must also consider the consequences
of one's actions"
"and I dread what'll happen here,
Herr Dr. Passow"
"because your nationalism
is just the noble, innocent precursor
"of something horrible
that one day will manifest itself among the Germans
and lead them to extremes of foolishness."
"and if you yourself saw it,
it would make you turn over in your grave"
Cheers.
Cheerio.
I know why that Dr. Passow
venerates your German war hero.
Passow is half queer anyway.
As is everybody in the corps ???
Remember the Spartans.
An early breed.
Nationalistic early breed.
1813, the saddest year of all.
He's gone, my ladies,
he's rejoined his battalion.
Deep down, I know my fate.
August.
May the Heavens protect you, beloved.
What's this?
What noise!
Finally they're kicking the French swine
out of our beautiful Weimar.
Cossacks,
Don Cossacks all over town.
Our allies have arrived.
Now we'll strike.
The Cossacks rode up to the palace yard
and dismounted.
Now even the Grand Duke knew
that the hour had come.
???
???
???
Napoleon has been defeated at Leipzig.
You Saxon devils.
Again, endless billetings.
The Grand Duke made an appeal
for volunteers.
Almost all of our young gentlemen enlisted.
But August didn't.
Our dear Ferdinand is again with his regiment.
Today the Privy Councillor Goethe
has returned to our battered city of Weimar.
You dared to enlist after all!
As a volunteer!
As 50th?
Without my consent!
But I was forced to join them.
It's the done thing these days, father.
Idiotic and neglectful of your duty.
I'll write letters.
I'll write to the Minister Vogt.
You won't join them!
That would be the ultimate ...
I'll throw in my whole weight ...
I refuse to give in to the insane ...
to expose my home and my correspondence
to the curiosity of strangers
to abandon your post in such a way
I refuse to join them
I refuse to join them!
I won't think of it!
I won't think of it!
How long have you been in the service
of the great smart-ass of Weimar?
If the rumours are true,
Paris has been conquered and the campaign won.
No! no!
and ... and ...
and if there won't happen a miracle,
if Heaven won't help us,
then the court and the town can expect
the engagement at Christmas,
or on New Year's Eve.
First,
there's Frau Chamberlain Riedel's maid.
The lunch has gone cold.
I've tried in vain to explain
that the arrival of the illustrious guest at the Esplanade no. 6
will be delayed by an important visitor.
Very well, Mager. I am not a private person,
and I have higher claims to satisfy than a spoilt lunch.
Tell the Mamsell that I've had my portrait taken,
and then discussed important matters with Herr Dr. Riemer.
- And right now I'm receiving the demoiselle Schopenhauer.
- Very well.
I proceed with my novella
and I'll be brief.
And who do you think appeared
suddenly in Weimar again?
Our foundling.
Ferdinand.
He came back from France
and went straight to Ottilie.
- Who is it?
- Ferdinand.
Ferdinand.
Ferdinand.
It would take more than that to finish me off!
Here I am.
- Come in.
- Passing through Weimar on my way back to Silesia.
Belgian lard.
Ferdinand!
Lard from Belgium.
Ferdinand.
I'll fetch mama.
Mama.
Me, the friend,
you never invite me,
when you celebrate reunion with your Teutonic oaf.
or have coffee.
or sing songs.
I love to sing too.
Very much.
This is a betrayal of our friendship.
a betrayal of my person.
Committed with a strapping fool and Teutonic oaf.
Yes, I still love Napoleon!
And all that German nationalistic ado ...
disgusts me.
And I abhor that scourge of humanity
whose name I won't even utter,
and I'm a fervent admirer of the youth
and its glorious uprising against him.
yes yes yes
Say it again.
And I abhor that scourge of humanity.
Yes, absolutely.
You Schopenhauer ...
It's all over.
It's all over between you and me.
As far as I'm concerned,
you don't exist anymore.
All over.
He's running after low women now.
It's only 5 o'clock.
And he'll get drunk again,
till the cock crows.
There he is.
Hey!
- Can you give evidence.
- No. - Come along.
Forward march.
His latest mistress is the wife of a hussar
who tolerates the affair.
The wench is a tall drink of water
and a slut.
He calls her "his life's delight".
- No way!
- But he did "You're my life's delight"
Out of vanity she herself spread it around.
I could kill the wench.
And I'd like to inform you all of a little surprise.
Right before Christmas
Ferdinand will definitely buzz off.
Home to Breslau.
- Really?
- Really.
In Prussian Silesia a beloved bride awaits me.
I intend to marry her.
Congratulations, my friend.
Thank you.
My heartfelt congratulations.
Our heartfelt congratulations,
with regrets.
We have a bridegroom among us.
Heartfelt, with regrets.
What's the matter, dearest?
Tillemuse?
Could you now resist
if August von Goethe tried a new approach?
A few days ago I met August von Goethe.
He talked about our future union
as if it had already been decided,
dearest Adelmuse.
And besides, Herr Chamberlain von Goethe is here.
The son. The son.
Lupus in fabula.
Mager, I must not meet the Herr Chamberlain.
You will have to smuggle me past him somehow.
I know the delicacy of the social relations
and how you can never tell what may happen.
I've asked the Herr Chamberlain
to wait in the tap-room downstairs.
He is having a glass of Madeira
and I've set the bottle at his elbow.
So I am in a position to conduct
the demoiselle safely through the hall.
My dear Frau Councillor,
save Ottilie.
You might use your influence,
might presume to do so.
You might be August's mother.
Ottilie might be your daughter.
She looks as though she were;
that's why she is today in the same danger
you yourself once escaped.
Ottilie is the image of your youth,
as such she is beloved.
As a mother,
save Ottilie from being sacrificed to a fascination.
Your husband, my dear lady, has passed away.
The woman who became August's mother is no more.
You are alone with the father.
My good child,
you plunge me into situations,
trying to make an old woman
believe in a return of her former self,
grant me maternal rights over his son!
it would appear as if I undertook this journey of mine ...
Frau Councillor will see you now.
Herr Chamberlain von Goethe.
I thank you for your kind reception.
If you like each other,
then get married.
Do it for his sake.
And be happy.
in your upper stories ???
I'm in no position to advise you against it.
God bless you.
God bless you, my child.
God bless you, my child.
Hallo everybody.
How do you do?
- Nice day.
- Yes indeed.
Herr Mager.
??? must come
It'll be dark soon.
I'm supervising.
How do you do?
How do you do?
the morning of the 23rd September
Alas, that it should vanish!
That my bright vision of the depths
must end so soon,
as though the whim of a genie gave it
and as suddenly snatched it away - it fades into nothing,
and I emerge.
It was so lovely.
And now what?
Where are we?
Jena?
Berka?
Tennstdt?
No.
This is the Weimar coverlet.
Silken.
The familiar hangings on the walls,
the bell-pull.
What's this? Powerfully aroused?
Mightily festooned?
Good show, old fellow.
Then you too should rejoice,
sprightly dotard.
Oh, sister.
So they mistrust my Germanhood,
they feel it's an abuse,
and my fame causes them hate and anguish.
Do your best to fend me off,
still I stand for you,
even though they've been shitting on my poetry,
emptying their bellies.
Did Your Excellency say something to me?
What? Have I been speaking aloud?
No, I was only talking to myself.
In old age, you known,
people start mumbling to themselves.
Who is it?
A good day, father.
Oh, it's you August, come in.
Am I disturbing?
You're putting your papers away so fast?
Disturbing? What does it mean, my child?
Everything disturbs.
It all depends on
whether the disturbance is welcome or not.
Yes, that's the question, even now.
What news are you bringing?
A visitor has arrived, father.
A female visitor.
A visitor from far away,
and out of the past.
She's staying at the Elephant.
I heard the news
before her letter came.
Yesterday.
The town is all agog.
An old acquaintance.
An acquaintance?
Old?
Don't make such a fuss.
Weimar, the 22nd. That was yesterday.
"to look once more upon a face which has ...
become famous to the world."
"ne ...
Curious.
This is what I call a curious thing to happen.
Don't you?
This is a hyalite.
A glass opal.
A crystal.
They've sent it from Frankfurt,
for my collection.
How goes the hay-making in the big garden?
It's done, father.
But I'm cross with the farmer
who again won't pay.
He thinks we owe him something
for the mowing and transport.
How long do you think
the poor soul worked over this little note?
People are careful when they write to you.
It makes me feel uncomfortable.
The is the discipline of culture
you exact from us all.
When I'm dead, they'll all say "Ugh"
and express themselves like pigs again.
You mentioned some gossip in town
about the event?
Quite a bit.
Crowds in front of the inn.
They wanted to see the heroine
of Werther's Sorrows.
Couldn't the old hag have refrained,
and have spared me this?
She wants to nibble a piece of fate herself.
Little she knows how close together
fame and notoriety lie.
We'll give a luncheon,
for small company.
But otherwise we'll keep aloof
and give the sensation-mongers nothing to feed on.
In front of the house on the Frauenplan
other guests arriving were already being greeted.
Dr. Riemer,
Herr Stephan Schtze,
excellent belletrist
and editor of albums,
Charlotte learned.
Chamberlain Meyer,
the art professor.
"Art-Meyer"
Riemer jocosely declined
to be introduced to Lotte:
"Frau Councillor would remember
an old friend of three days' standing"
Let us hope that we're fortunate to find the master
in a good and lively key, not taciturn and scruffy,
otherwise we'd have the distressing feeling
to be burden for him.
I know the master of this house
even longer than yourself, Herr Professor,
and I am not unfamiliar
with the variable moods of the poet.
The newer acquaintance is after all the more authentic.
SALVE
Pardon.
... Talking of "taciturn"
"scruffy".
But the boy did good.
He lived more modestly in the Corn Market at Wetzlar.
There he had my silhouette on the wall,
morning and evening he greeted it with eyes and lips,
it's all in the book.
It's all in the book.
Frau Councillor Kestner.
Herr and Frau Chamberlain Riedel.
Herr and Frau Chamberlain Kirms.
Let me present my wife.
- My daughter Lotte.
- Madame Riemer.
Madame Meyer.
Superintendent of Mines, Werner.
Such excitement, Frau Councillor.
One knows who you are.
Your dress, Frau Councillor,
how meaningful, how charming.
The whole dress - an allusion.
And one knows what you're alluding to.
Oh, Lotte!
May I call you Lotte?
What a moment!
You in Weimar!
In this house!
Well, my daughter ...
My husband has talked much about you, my dear.
How nice to meet you at last.
It's superb.
A copy of the so-called Aldobrandini Marriage.
Prof. Meyer most kindly made it.
Very beautiful.
Very beautiful.
We seem to be our full count,
and let us hope our host will present himself without delay.
It is comprehensible that new-comers should feel
a certain nervousness in these last long minutes,
though they should rejoice
to be able to accustom themselves beforehand
to the surroundings and atmosphere.
What I mean is that it is always "besht"
to conceal as much as possible one's tension
and to greet him with no sign of stress.
That sensibly lightens the strain for both sides.
For the master and for yourself.
For he is sensitive to the guests' nervousness
and shares it with him;
he gets the contagion, so to speak, from afar.
It is distinctly the sensible thing to be entirely natural.
One doesn't have to entertain him on high intellectual themes,
as for example his own works.
Nothing is more ill-judged.
It's much wiser to chat about harmless matters
within one's own experience.
Needless to say,
I don't mean to encourage any indecent familiarities.
Thank you very much, Herr Councillor,
for your suggestions.
Many must have already been grateful for them.
But we must not forget
that in this case we are dealing with the renewal
of an acquaintance of 44 years' standing.
A man who is a different person
from day to day and from hour to hour
will certainly have become a different person in 44 years.
Well, Carl, what sort of mood are we in today?
Pretty jolly, on the whole, Herr Chamberlain.
His Excellency.
Good God!
My dear ladies,
at last I can welcome you with my own lips to Weimar!
You behold a man to whom the time has seemed long
until this moment.
I call this a capital surprise.
How it must rejoice the heart of our dear Riedels,
this dearly desired visit!
We need not say
how much we treasure it.
Your Excellency,
It has been my ardent wish to bring to your notice
my daughter, Charlotte, my second youngest,
here on a visit from her home in Alsace.
Pretty, pretty, pretty.
These eyes have probably done
some mischief among the men.
In any case, it is very charming that of the little group
whose silhouettes our dear departed Councillor sent me,
I behold at least one member in natura.
Time brings one everything, if one will but wait.
These equally lovely women are your friends,
these dignified gentlemen your admirers.
My dear ... my dear
Do you think Goethe has changed?
You ought to know.
Tell us, dearest.
Has he changed?
He has, hasn't he?
Has he changed?
My dear, theology, you know, is nothing but ...
I have such a ...
Dear friends,
let's have our soup.
Let us give thanks to the Heavenly Powers,
dear friends,
for vouchsafing so happy an occasion
for this joyous meeting.
Let us enjoy the modest,
yet well and truly prepared meal.
We hold with the patriarchal custom
of pouring out for ourselves.
Our dear Germans are a crack-brained lot,
and have always worked their prophets
as hard as the Jews theirs,
but their wines are the noblest gift of God.
His Excellence forgets to reckon to the credit
of these worthless Germans that they produced you.
What would you like to drink?
Oh, that's my Eger water.
Your inclination counsels you well,
I am never without this mineral water.
Of all the temperance drinks in the world
I've had the best experience with it.
I get a yearly a delivery of this water
here in Weimar.
Allow me to pour ...
Dear friends.
Let's not forget.
Chamberlain Kirms
is deserving of the rewards of the State,
he's a capital economist.
Yet a friend of the muses,
and a sensitive amateur of the dramatic arts.
Invaluable as a member of the newly established
board of management at the Court Theatre.
You ought to form an opinion
of the capacities of the Weimar stage.
During a carriage drive in Bohemia,
coming from Marienbad,
the state of road fit to break one's neck,
the the driver knew his business so well
that Napoleon, had he seen the man,
would certainly have made him his personal coachman.
And then, as we bumped along at a slow pace up the steep road,
I see something by the wayside.
I get out to look at the thing.
Well, how did you get here?
Well, how did you get here?
Well, how did you get here, I ask him.
For what was looking at me,
shining in the dirt?
A feldspar twin crystal!
In the Grand-Ducal library is an old terrestrial globe
whereon were short and very apt inscriptions
describing the characters of various peoples.
Very apt.
About Germany, the old globe wrote,
I've no idea who made it,
"The Germans are a people
displaying great likeness to the Chinese."
Isn't that funny?
Yet with something apt about it too,
when one thinks of the German pleasure
in titles and ranks,
their bred-in-the-bone respect for scholarship.
Of course such aperus upon folk-psychology
always have something arbitrary about them.
The comparison fits the French even better,
with their democratic radicalism.
The Chinese, Confucius' fellow countrymen,
had a saying that
"the great man is a national misfortune."
Charlotte alone sat on the defensive, stiffly upright,
her forget-me-not eyes wide with alarm.
The same dread as before
was running cold down her back,
lest the too loud laughter round the table
might be hiding an evil
that threatened in a reckless moment to burst forth:
Somebody might spring up,
overturn the table, and scream out:
"The Chinese are right!
The great man is a national misfortune."
Such a saying is certainly poor evidence
for the wisdom of that globe.
The individual is dear to us Germans -
and rightly so,
for only in him are we great.
That being true, far more than with other nations,
the relation between the individual and the general,
has its melancholy and awkward side too.
Beyond a doubt, it was more than mere chance
that the natural taedium vitae of Frederick II.'s old age
expressed itself in the remark:
"I am tired of ruling over slaves."
Won't you have a minimum of the compote?
I must tell you something.
I ...
I must tell you something
all the popes and their memorial coins,
a complete set, of course,
please notice the detail
Dear Herr Schtze,
your album "Love and Friendship",
entertaining and instructive,
I can't think of a better editor than yourself.
And your own humorous contributions
should be published in a separate collection.
I've toyed with the idea myself,
but I still have doubts ...
No, no, they must be put in a collection.
When the time comes, the autumn of life,
the harvest must be gathered and stored.
Now it remains to find a good title
for your collection of humorous writings.
"Happy hours", I thought that might be
a title for the collection.
Excellent. I myself couldn't have found a better title.
Excuse me.
What did you talk about with His Excellency?
So you will leave me, children, all of you at once?
Well, no one can blame you
for returning to your own duties and pleasures.
Adieu, adieu.
Our dear superintendent of mines must stay a bit longer.
I have something interesting for you back in my study:
fossilized fresh-water snails.
My esteemed friend, farewell.
Life has held us sundered far too long,
so I cannot expect to meet you often during your sojourn.
No thanks! Until then, adieu.
Adieu.
Adieu, ladies.
Adieu, gentlemen.
Lotte stayed another three weeks in Weimar,
and stayed all the time with Lottchen,
her daughter, at the Elephant inn.
Goethe sent her another note.
Should you care, my dear friend,
to use my box at the theatre this evening,
my carriage will fetch you.
Forgive me for not coming myself,
my servant will escort you through the parterre.
Well, Carl, it was very beautiful.
I've enjoyed myself very much.
Oh Lotte, Lotte, Werther's Lotte.
Calm yourself, my dear.
Oh, Lotte.
Immortal beloved.
Good evening, my dear.
Goethe?
My God, that he can be such a good boy.
It was silly of me
to drape my present form with emblems of the past.
After all, you don't display the poor taste to go about
in the blue coat with the yellow waistcoat and trousers,
like many enthousiastic youngsters in those days.
I've angered you, my dear.
But did I not wait for you in the carriage
to face this painful anger,
perhaps soften it by a heart-felt plea for forgiveness,
because of the Werther book?
Oh, my God!
How can Your Excellence condescend ...
My pride,
my happiness ...
I am to forgive you?
There is something frightful, let me tell you,
about atrophying.
We humbler folk must avoid it,
we must brace ourselves against it with all our strength,
even though our heads quiver with the strain;
for else there is nothing left for us,
but a mound in the Baden county.
With you it was different.
You had something to put to it.
Your reality is magnificent,
not like renunciation, or unfaithfulness;
but like purer fulfillment and a highest faithfulness.
It is so imposing.
I congratulate you.
So perfectly at ease I did not feel in your presence,
in your circle and your museum of a house.
I was oppressed and fearful, I admit.
It smells too much of sacrifice
where you are.
And against human sacrifice
Iphigenie interferes.
Alas, in your circle it looks too much the same;
it is almost like a battlefield,
or the realm of a wicked emperor.
Those Riemers with their mutterings and grumblings
and their manly honour floundering about in the bird-lime;
and your poor son
with his 17 glasses of champagne,
and this little person who will marry him at the New Year
and fly into your upper rooms,
like a moth to the candle.
To say nothing about the girls
who did not know how to stand up as I did,
who married her Hans Christian and gave him 11 children.
So consumption took them off to lie under their mounds -
like the poor Friederike von Sesenheim.
What are they all
but sacrifices to your greatness?
He shall kiss her too.
Dear old child-like soul,
I, first and last, am the sacrifice,
and he that offers it.
Once I burned for you,
and ever I shall burn for you, into spirit and light.
Know that metamorphosis is the dearest and most inward of your friend,
his great hope, his deepest craving,
the play of transformation,
the changing of the human countenance,
youth like a miracle shining out in age, age out of youth.
That why it pleased me, rest reassured,
that you thought it out and came to me,
decking your ancient form with signs of youth.
Let us open wide eyes upon the unity of the world
- eyes wide, serene, and wise.
Don't talk to me of repentance.
I see her ride towards me,
in a grey mantle.
Then once more
the hour of Werther and Tasso will strike,
leave-taking for ever,
death-struggle of feelings,
and frightful pains,
such as probably precede the hour of death.
Death.
Final flight into the flame -
the All-in-One.
Why shouldn't he too be aught but transformation?
Peace to your old age.
The long-familiar accents died away.
Frau Councillor, welcome, as always.
I hope Frau Councillor spent an elevating evening
in our temple of the Muses?
May I offer this arm for your support?
Frau Councillor!
Good heavens, Frau Councillor,
I cannot refrain
- I really must say:
to help Werther's Lotte out of Goethe's carriage,
that is an experience that
- what shall I call it?
It's worthy to be put down in a book.
It's positively worthy to be put down in a book.
(using large parts of H.T. Lowe-Porter's translation)