Lotte in Weimar Page #7

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,

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