Beloved Sisters Page #5

to wonder about being happy.

Looking back,

I feel it was a good place.

Strange. Looking back,

everything seems good.

It seems man has a great talent

for lying to himself.

I'm sometimes overcome by a desire

to go back to Wrttemberg.

The Duke's ban against me

has lasted for so long now.

How long exactly?

I had to flee

from my homeland six years ago.

I apologize for asking that.

How insensitive of me.

There's an unrest in the air.

Yes, the summer's taking

its leave and calling to us,

"Keep me in good memory."

Charlotte?

Charlotte von Lengefeld?

Yes?

A message for you from Milady.

I'm to join Frau von Stein

in Kochberg at once.

Goethe's back

and has announced himself for tomorrow.

Goethe's back?

- Insist that she returns late August.

- What about the hats?

- Late summer is the best season.

- Have you got the hats and the red case?

Did you pack the present

for Madame von Stein?

Did you pack it?

And the festive dresses,

Charlotte's festive dresses...

- Schwenke, are you sure?

- Yes, Madame, I'm sure.

Forgive me.

- Did you pack them?

- Yes, I packed the hats, Madame.

Trust me, it will all turn out

as we discussed.

- Madame.

- No wonder one forgets things...

- Our Father who art in Heaven...

- Say hello to your husband.

- When will he arrive?

- Tomorrow afternoon.

When ready,

put out the candles and go to bed.

Very well, Madame.

You too. Good night.

Go to sleep, Wilhelm.

I won't be needing you.

And take the light with you.

Good night.

- Shall I go home?

- It's much too late for that.

Please read what I laid out

on the table for you.

It's the start of a novelette of mine.

I'd like your honest opinion.

To boost your honesty,

I'll make us some punch.

It's my mother's recipe,

who had it from her mother and so on.

Whoever drinks it

speaks the truth without fail, we say.

Originally my mother only wanted

to reveal the recipe in her will.

But she blabbed during an afternoon nap.

I wrote it down.

There's nothing special in it,

it's all a matter of quantity.

What will you do with the secret?

- Leave it to your children?

- I won't have any children, I sense it.

But if you were to have any, Fritz,

I'd leave the recipe to them.

- If they're nice children.

- Children...

Never thought about them.

I'd like to call you Fritz.

My husband's name is Friedrich,

and tonight I don't want to say his name.

Your judgment now. So?

Fabulous.

Simply written, yet deep.

My only complaints are minor details

that I scribbled on this note.

You'll write magnificent prose, Caroline.

Your male colleagues will be amazed.

I'm telling the truth.

I must prevent this praise

from going to my head.

Go to Charlotte in Weimar.

Offer to marry her. You'll be happy.

What will become of our triangle?

I told Lollo I won't be losing a sister

but gaining a brother.

What about us?

I won't relinquish you.

And in thanks for your praise,

I can offer you a deepening

of our friendship tonight.

But...

I won't undress.

I'm expecting my husband any moment.

If he says he'll be here in the afternoon,

he arrives in the morning.

It's always like that.

Et voil. Yes?

Quick, Madame. Your mother met your

husband at a coach stand this morning.

She sent me ahead in secret.

- Does he suspect anything?

- Your mother said he looked opaque.

No.

Opaque?

Where did she pick up that word?

Look. Look...

That's us.

- Am I hurting you?

- No, no.

It's all very enjoyable.

Leave it, it'll pass.

Love of my life,

now leave me so you can return.

When?

When?

- Where's my wife?

- Asleep.

Stay, I'll go to her.

She sleeps in the rear house

in her sister's room.

Does she miss Charlotte that much?

"Last night, or rather this morning,

things were beyond my control,"

and this evening I may be invited

to a late dinner by Rengmann,

the doctor who's been treating me here,

"but later on

I will try to steal away to you."

"No, I implore you, stay away from

our house today and the next few days."

But you're invited to come

next Sunday, because then,

if I read all the signs correctly,

you will meet a certain man

"who has been avoiding you until now."

- I think he just said "world".

- No, he said "width".

You'd need a lip reader.

Schiller wears his frock

as if he'd found it on a compost heap.

- Yet it wasn't cheap.

- But second-hand.

Should I have bought him a new one?

Poets. However you dress them,

they still look like beggars.

Show a little generosity.

After all, they are geniuses.

The Prince!

Those two are among

the most important people of our age.

When the two great poets first meet,

a humid, late-summer sun

shines on the Saale.

Schiller freezes nonetheless,

and Goethe talks verbosely to overcome

the awkwardness between them.

The younger one feels as if

he's standing before a craggy rock-face.

Charlotte, who'd come to Rudolstadt

with Frau von Stein for a day,

leaves her sister saying,

"That wasn't his happiest day.

In future we must protect him

and support him when he is lonely."

Caroline agrees.

That same evening Goethe leaves for

Weimar with Knebel and Madame Stein,

citing important business.

It leaves a tone in the air

that instills in Schiller an impression

of rejection and non-recognition.

"The presumptuousness

of the Inquisition verdicts"

could only be surpassed

by the inhumanity of their enforcement.

By joining the risible and the frightful,

they drown pity in mockery and contempt.

With pomp the criminal

was led to his place of execution,

a red banner leading the way.

The ringing of all bells

accompanied the procession.

First came a priest in his chasuble,

followed by the sinner in a yellow

garment decorated with black devils.

On his head a paper hat.

Facing away from the condemned:

The image of Christ on the cross.

He could no longer expect salvation.

His mortal flesh belonged to the fire,

his immortal soul to the flames of Hell.

A gag blocked his mouth.

You'd have thought it was a corpse

being led to its grave,

"yet it was a living man whose torments

were to gruesomely entertain the people."

Forgive me, I'll break off here.

Will you amuse us now with details

of an execution during the Inquisition?

No, I beg your pardon.

I'm deeply impressed.

Your language has clarity and force.

Where can the book be ordered?

Beg your pardon.

The book comes out

in Weimar in the autumn.

Why aren't you teaching in Jena?

Or Berlin?

No one describes history

in German like you do.

At least I haven't read anything like it.

So literally true.

I actually applied in Jena.

This book, or rather the research for it,

was the basis for my play "Don Carlos".

His art even scares our Weimar Giant.

That's why he left here in such a hurry.

My dear Herr Wolzogen,

there's no need to promote your friend.

He has put me under his spell.

May I excuse myself?

I'm having trouble speaking today.

I don't want to be a burden to you.

Well, he has no manners.

- Am I that boring?

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