Lotte in Weimar Page #3

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.

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