- Good dog.
- Vogel!
My little dove.
Are we expecting guests?
Indeed we are.
Even a famous poet.
Wonderful.
What does he write?
He has written
about a marquise
who, while unconscious,
is impregnated by an unknown man
and then discovers
that the unknown man
is the man she thought
she was in love with.
And consequently she
can no longer love him.
That sounds rather strange.
Incidents of that kind rarely happen.
Yet I find the fate of
the marquise moving.
As if I were her.
Well then, he must be
a truly outstanding poet,
if his writings give you
such a curious idea!
A violet in the meadow stood
With humble brow,
demure and good
It was the sweetest violet
There came along
a shepherdess
With youthful step
and happiness
Who sang
Who sang along the way
This song
Oh!
Thought the violet
How I pine for nature's
beauty to be mine
If only for a moment
For then my love
might notice me
And on her bosom fasten me
Oh, I wish
Oh, I wish if only
for a moment long
But, cruel fate!
The maiden came
Without a glance
or care for it
She trampled
down the violet
It sank
And died
But happily
And so I die then
let me die for her
For her
Beneath her darling feet
Poor little violet
It was the sweetest violet
Simply to die for!
- She is an admirer of your marquise.
- Really?
Oh, I wouldn't
call it admiration.
Which woman has
experienced such a fate?
That is what makes
the story so appealing.
To read something one would
never wish to experience,
and yet, bizarrely,
one yearns to imagine it all the same.
I try to describe
what engenders fear,
but perhaps also desire.
Desire?
I would say one has
to accept one's fate.
- No matter how cruel it may be.
- But you said it yourself.
The marquise is appealing.
Yes.
That may often be the case.
You say one thing but
also feel another.
Yes, this may often
be the case.
You think you want to live,
but in fact you want to die.
The poor thing.
Who?
Frau von Krahl.
I feel sorry for her.
Why is that?
It must be terrible to be
such a famous singer,
being exposed to the
opinion of the public.
What if she made a mistake?
It would be so embarrassing.
But everybody admires her.
Yes, but if she makes a mistake,
she will be despised.
People can be so cruel.
But she is famous,
respected.
She has achieved a position.
All by herself.
Nevertheless...
I may have achieved nothing in life
except to take care of you and Pauline.
But that's enough for me.
That's just the way I am.
And how did you
find our poet?
Oh, him.
He seems to have a rather
melancholic disposition.
He depresses me.
But he appears to like you.
Certainly not.
My soul is in such
a precarious state
that when I stick my
nose out of the window
the daylight pains me with
its constant shimmering.
Some people would consider
this an illness or excess tension.
But not you.
You have the ability to see the world
from a perspective other than your own.
I have become so sensitive
that even the smallest of onslaughts
to which my feelings are exposed
causes me the
greatest of suffering.
You are indeed melancholic today.
Perhaps it is your gall that
troubles your soul? Or...
My dearest friend,
it is not my gall,
but the world itself
that troubles my soul.
I know a doctor who understands
the soul thoroughly.
He healed a woman who was blinded
by a shock and now she can see again.
Nothing upon this
earth can help me.
The present has no
appeal for me at all,
and as for the future,
I can only think of the mortifying fact
that it will end one day.
However, what I long for is that you,
Marie, can understand me.
But I do understand you,
you dear and sensitive man.
- Then may I ask something of you?
- Of course.
Would you care
to die with me?
Of course not.
But with pistols it
can be very quick.
First I'd shoot you,
and then myself.
You would make me very,
very happy.
I'm very fond of you,
as you know, my dear.
But now you really
are going too far.
- But I love you, Marie.
- And I love you too, my dear.
Then please do consider my request,
my dearest Marie!
Because I love you.
And if you love me too, really love me,
you will do this for me.
Because nothing in life should be
more important to you than this love.
Not even life itself.
I'm afraid Pauline has
a piano lesson on Tuesday.
I therefore cannot
go for a walk with you.
On Wednesday Vogel has a free afternoon,
so we shall spend the time together.
But if you are
available on Friday,
I would be glad if you would
join us for a musical evening,
at about seven o'clock.
Whatever you wanted
to tell me face to face
can surely be revealed in
the company of others after all.
Tell me, my dear friend,
for surely you know.
It would interest me:
The new tax...
Must absolutely
everybody pay it?
Yes.
- Including the aristocracy?
- Yes.
But also the townsman,
the peasant and the beggar.
The new tax applies to everybody.
That's what's new about it.
And that is why the peasant is to be freed?
Merely so he can pay taxes?
- How unjust.
- But still, it is a rather nice idea.
Freedom and equality
for all before the law.
That is French, is it not?
I believe the peasants would
rather remain in bondage
than be free like their masters
just so they can pay taxes.
That is an undesirable freedom,
which nobody would want.
- They would have to be freed by force.
- Exactly.
How should a serf, who knows nothing
but bondage, survive on his own!
It will be his downfall.
And yet...
I would rather be free and face my
downfall than remain in bondage.
I would not.
I am my husband's property, and I
should never dare to demand freedom.
Our government's attempt to reform
the state according to French ideas
is a mockery of our understanding
of justice and injustice.
What they call equality
is really injustice,
and what they call
freedom is a trick.
Whereas the feudal state has
developed in Prussia over centuries
and represents
the natural order.
Why should we abandon it?
In exchange for the shortsighted
ideas of some dreamers,
who claim to be Republicans
or even Democrats?
Dreamers who have apparently not
noticed that the revolt in France failed!
A violet in the meadow stood
With humble brow,
demure and good
It was the sweetest violet
There came along
a shepherdess
With youthful step
and happiness
Who sang
Who sang along the way
This song
Oh! thought the violet
How I pine for nature's
beauty to be mine
Oh, if only for a moment
For then my love
might notice me
And on her bosom
fasten me
I wish
I wish if only for
a moment long
But, cruel fate!
The maiden came
Without a glance
or care for it
She trampled
down the violet
It sank and died
But happily
And so I die
Then let me die for her
For her
Beneath her darling feet
Poor little violet
It was the sweetest violet
Thank you, thank you.
Oh, please...
Of course,
I am no Frau von Krahl.
I'm just...
Bravo.
First... I do not wish to
keep this secret from you.
I love another.
You know her, I believe.
A lady of high society
and of noble education.
However,
this love has not
been reciprocated.
What can be worse than being rejected?
It makes me feel lonelier than ever.
When love is not reciprocated,
love dies.
I'm searching for an individual
who does return my love
and will share with me
the wish I hold so dear.
However, that particular lady has
refused to comply with this wish of mine.
- And so I no longer love her.
- You speak of marriage?
Not exactly.
It is in fact something else.
And now it appears to me that
you may be more right for this.
I'm falling in love with you.
Unless you are not...
It may sound odd, but I am
not looking for a partner in life.
But rather in death.
Are you ill?
One might say that.
My soul is ill with
weariness and solitude.
It's the fault of my
foolish disposition,
that can only enjoy
what cannot be.
I'm no good at life,
but I don't want to die alone,
without love.
So I seek the joy of
finding a kindred soul
who understands my suffering
and is like me,
so that we can die together.
And you thought of me?
- But why?
- Forgive me if I'm too direct.
But you seem to be
an outsider just like me.
You are also lonely.
Bereft of friends.
And nothing really matters to you.
You love nothing,
and nobody loves you.
What?
How can you say that?
I have my child
and my husband,
who loves me very much indeed.
- But do you love him?
- Yes.
And my little Pauline
loves me too,
and I love her.
Well, perhaps I was mistaken.
Forgive me.
Oh, Vogel.
I am so happy to see you.
How was your journey?
It confirmed what I keep
trying to tell the chancellor.
Many people are still not registered
in a trade, so they can't be taxed.
I am only responsible
for taxing the trades.
How can I demand payment
of the general tax
when not everyone
is registered yet?
And I doubt that the registered trades
will bear the burden in the meantime.
Mama?
Please tell me what
you really think.
What sort of infection is this?
If it really is one.
If I knew, I would tell you.
Amazing how suddenly
everything can change.
Only yesterday I was...
happy
and carefree.
And now this.
Ah, it will pass.
But do you not
worry about me?
If Pauline were ill,
I would be beside myself with worry.
That would not help her much.
Henriette.
- How lovely to see you.
- Yes.
How are you?
Madame Vogel is still weak
because of these ailments.
You must not tire her,
my friend.
- Oh, really? What is wrong with you?
- Oh, nothing.
Or at least,
they say it is nothing.
But perhaps they just
don't know what it is.
It is upsetting to have an illness
nobody knows or understands.
I also suffer
from something internal, invisible,
which nobody knows or understands.
How similar we are.
"And when the count,
during a happy hour,
asked his wife why, despite seeming
capable of withstanding all depravity,
she had fled from him
as if he were the devil,
she replied, throwing her
arms around his neck,
that he would never have
seemed like the devil to her
if he had not seemed like an angel
upon his first appearance. "
- How well-worded.
- You are smart.
But now I ask you:
When the count slept with the woman
he loved without her agreement,
was he acting
justly or unjustly?
- Unjustly.
- Precisely.
Then why are you plaguing yourself
and us with the absurd suggestion
that he could win the love
of the marquise in the end?
What useless hypochondria.
But, Mother, if the marquise
truly loves this man,
- and her love is stronger than his crime.
- Nonsense.
In that case the poor
woman is seriously ill
and needs to be cured from
an unhealthy kind of love
which is nothing more
than artificial exultation.
I hope, my child,
that I have taught you otherwise.
Mother...
I really prefer Goethe.
It's strange to have an
illness that may not be one.
A figment of the imagination
which is as real as reality.
So what's the difference?
The main thing is,
it's nothing serious.
Please, tell my wife all this.
I couldn't repeat your words.
Believe me...
It really is most interesting.
It is extraordinary and rather
difficult for me to describe.
Medicine is facing
a mystery here.
The latest examination
of Madame Vogel's urine,
which I was sure would help us
and which, to be certain, I performed
myself together with a colleague,
revealed nothing.
Nothing to cause alarm
from a medical point of view.
I shall have the results checked
by the medical board of the Charit.
Then we can be certain.
But what causes the spasms if
there's nothing wrong with me?
We doctors are in
the dark about this.
But perhaps this is
a female complaint
of a more spiritual
than physical nature.
This assumption is
based on the theory
that a certain fluidum flows through
both the soul and the body,
which therefore
influence each other.
This would explain why
spiritual disturbances
can lead to physical illnesses.
Nonsense.
Thank God,
it isn't serious at least.
So Mama doesn't have to die?
And what can be done?
Relax.
I can't.
Something is depressing
and destroying my mood,
making me anxious and sad.
Would you like to
tell us something?
I'm afraid.
There's nothing to be afraid of.
It's the flowers.
They frighten me.
The flowers?
Yes.
I can't bear to see
their sweet beauty.
It reminds me of the fact
that they will fade.
Their bittersweet scent
lingers in my nose.
- I see. The flowers.
- Yes.
The flowers and other
quite banal things.
They strike me as menacing,
and an undefined fear
arises within me
which causes me
to see the world
and everything in it
with a terrible doubt:
What if all this
was a mistake?
I can't remember anything.
That is quite normal.
Wouldn't you say?
The patient can't remember anything
she says or does during the treatment
due to a kind of
protective mechanism.
In a magnetic sleep the
patient utters things
that she would never
say in a waking state.
What did I say?
Nothing important, really.
Wouldn't you say?
This treatment requires
a number of sessions
in order to achieve success.
Is the treatment working, then?
It often takes months or even
years until one finds something
that might indicate the spiritual
origin of the current ailment.
Here,
we are in the darkness.
Where the blue mountains
Rise from the lowering skies
Look inside
Where the sun sets
Where the clouds spread
There I would like to be
There I would like to be
There in that quiet valley
Which silences pain and woe
"So I spend my evenings
with the Vogels,
because this lady does not let me
see her alone, for the sake of decency.
You see, my friend,
how limited she is by convention.
But I intend to
free her from this,
for her own good,
since this narrow-minded
life is humiliating
and deprives one of all possibility
of doing what one's soul wishes.
It produces people who
do not know themselves
and behave like puppets,
moving to a fixed choreography.
So, in short, when I observe
this idyllic scene
and pretend that
I am part of it,
I am thrilled by
the wonderful idea
that Henriette would give
up all this worldly happiness
for my sake.
That she would sacrifice
it all at my feet.
How divine that would be. "
Eternally
Eternally
Bon apptit.
I think I had better
wait in the salon.
After examining the findings
on Madame Vogel,
the medical board
of the Charit in Berlin
has come to a
different conclusion
regarding the manner
and extent of her illness.
The Charit sent me this letter,
which I will read to you now.
"The examination
of Madame Vogel
by the medical board
of Charit in Berlin,
performed on the 7th of May 1811,
gave the following conclusion.
The patient is suffering from
an incurable ulcer or tumor
in the lower abdomen,
with discharge.
The ulcer or tumor is approximately
two inches in diameter,
about the size of an unripe
green apple or an orange.
Considering the type of ulcer or tumor,
this means it is in an advanced stage.
It appears to have
been present in
the patient's abdomen
for some time,
approximately two years.
It also appears that
this ulcer or tumor
has caused the faintings and spasms
that the patient has suffered.
The patient should be treated according
to the advice of the family doctor,
since we do not advise
any special treatment.
With best regards, Dr. Kienast, Prussian
Medical Board of the Charit, Berlin. "
So it is serious after all.
So Mama does have to die?
Everyone has to die sometime.
And what can be done?
Bed rest and bloodletting.
Two cups of chamomile
tea a day.
Avoid all local irritation.
This also includes intercourse.
The condition is not contagious,
but you need rest,
and plenty of fresh air.
I'm afraid she doesn't
have much time left.
- Imagine: I'm going to die.
- Oh.
It is that serious?
I heard the doctor tell Vogel.
I don't have long to live.
I am ashamed that I
understand you only now.
Now that I am facing
death myself.
But now I prefer
to die with you
than be killed by this terrible illness,
alone in a sick bed.
I didn't think I was
so close to death.
I was in the prime of my life,
and now this.
So you were right
to choose me after all.
- I no longer expected this.
- Neither did I.
- This is rather a surprise for me now.
- For me, too.
Allow me to think about it.
Do stay!
It is good not to be alone,
to speak with somebody
who knows me better
than I know myself.
And who is also
so close to death.
I'm not really sure.
You said things about me
that I had never dared to think,
and now I feel that everything
you said may be true.
You spoke about
my loneliness
and said I did not love
and was not loved.
It's as if I can see clearly now.
I see that my existence
is meaningless,
something which
you saw already.
You say these things
because you are ill.
What of it?
Now I understand you, Heinrich.
Like you understood me.
Because I now feel
as lonely as you.
I have become the woman
you saw in me earlier.
I am yours now.
Suddenly I am not so sure.
Forgive me, Henriette,
I had hoped you would decide
to take this step for my sake.
Because you accept my sorrow
as your own and love me for it.
And not because of
your fear of death.
You see, I suffer not from death,
but from life.
Is Frulein Marie at home?
The Frulein is out of town.
But Frau von Massow
is at home.
You are acquainted with this
Adam Mller, are you not?
He told us recently that the
reform has been decided upon.
What do you say to that?
Isn't it awful?
Even we must pay taxes now.
It is utterly inconvenient for me.
I shall have to dismiss my valet,
the poor man.
- Was that the aim of it?
- My dear aunt.
I have lost my allowance
from the queen,
which I received until
her untimely death.
Even my sister is losing faith in my
talent and has withdrawn my funds.
So what do I care
for your valet?
Then you must find yourself
a sensible position.
Or at least join the
volunteer corps.
Make yourself useful,
and protect us from
these new French ideas,
which lead to slaughter,
as we've witnessed.
The people cannot be left
to rule over themselves.
Even Queen Luise dressed
in the Parisian fashion.
Oh, and Marie,
your dear cousin,
is marrying a Frenchman.
Just imagine.
- What?
- Yes, she is engaged.
- In Paris?
- Exactly.
- To a Frenchman?
- Yes.
Why isn't anything
going right for me?
Are you expecting
her to return soon?
My dear friend, do not raise
your hopes about that.
It's too late.
- One never knows.
- In this case, one does.
- The chancellor enforced the
new laws. - What a pity.
What will you do?
I shall do my best to deal with the
problems threatening the reforms
and ensure they
can be effective.
These reforms may fail
due to the lack of a system
for measuring income and property
as the basis for taxation.
We have too few officials.
And the nobility cling to their
privileges like a dog to his bone.
That may be.
My dear Vogel,
I shall go to the country tomorrow.
How lovely.
It will do you good.
I shall stay overnight.
Yes, do enjoy yourself.
I will not be alone.
I see...
Do you like this cup?
It is quite valuable.
It would fetch a good price.
I don't know about such things.
Well...
There is no need to sell it.
You can simply enjoy
its fine appearance.
Yes, ma'am.
For the love and kindness,
you, my dear, have shown me
in the 72 years of our marriage,
I cannot thank you enough.
I beg of you from
the bottom of my heart,
to forgive me if I
have ever offended you.
We shall meet
again in a place
where all shall be forgiven.
But the doctor said
you should rest.
Be a good girl and always
obey your father.
Yes.
You'll see, soon you
will be a grown-up,
and have your place in life.
Yes.
And you will be
content with it.
Yes.
How long do you
intend to stay?
- Until tomorrow.
- One night, then.
Oh, Heinrich, I'm so happy
that we found one another.
It happens more often
than one might think,
that two people who are
destined for one another
simply do not find
each other.
Yes, that does happen.
What a fine thing it is that now
we can experience how it feels
to truly love.
Yes, it is a fine thing.
Why two?
- In case one doesn't work.
- I see.
"My dear Marie...
...might surprise you.
I have replaced you
with another friend.
But not one who wants to live with me.
Rather, one who wants to die with me.
A friend whose soul floats...
Whose soul...
flies like a young
eagle,
like I have never seen before.
She understands that my
sadness is deep and incurable,
and therefore wants
to die with me. "
Yes?
Oh, excuse me.
You may come in.
There is a problem.
- What is it?
- We are not alone.
Adam Mller is here.
He is sitting downstairs.
I think he recognized me.
Madame Vogel has been kind
enough to read my poetry,
which assists me
greatly in my work.
Don't worry, my friend.
I shall be as silent as a grave.
You completely misunderstand,
my dear friend.
Heinrich, don't be such a moralist.
You are offending the lady.
This lady is here to read my
poetry and for no other purpose.
At least,
not the purpose you imagine.
No offense.
As you wish.
I had no idea the lady
was such a gifted reader.
And the tragedy?
How was it received?
With a lot of bellyache and
some well-meant criticism, I hear.
That's enough.
I have had enough of your insults.
I had better leave you to your
business and say good night.
It is late.
No, I shall leave.
You stay.
I wanted to go anyway.
- Please stay.
- Too late.
I can't stay any longer.
Where the blue mountains
Rise from the lowering skies
Look inside
Where the sun sets
Where the clouds spread
There I would like to be
There I would like to be
There in that
quiet valley
Which silences
pain and woe
Where in rocky spaces
Softly sleep the primroses
And sweeps so gently
Will we go to Freienwalde
again next summer?
Perhaps.
And will we visit the
Poggenpohl's bunnies then?
Certainly.
For improvements to the
servants' quarters: 50 thalers.
For warm clothes, shoes
and hair-bands for the child: 11 thalers.
And finally,
for daily expenses: 24 thalers.
Very good.
You were thrifty.
We are left with
15 Reichsthalers.
Use the money for yourself.
Buy something nice.
Thank you.
Do you intend to go
on excursions again?
No.
It would certainly
do you good.
- You know...
- I know.
Marie?
Oh!
You are back in town?
I asked your aunt to tell me as
soon as you returned to Berlin.
I returned earlier to take
care of some matters.
Do come to tea one day.
My aunt will be delighted.
Perhaps now?
If that is convenient?
Of course.
What matters do you need
to take care of here in Berlin?
I believe my aunt has told you.
I am to be married.
I heard,
but I didn't want to believe it.
Do you have no feelings
for me whatsoever?
On the contrary, my friend.
The friendship I feel for you will
not end because of my marriage.
Perhaps not because
of your marriage,
but because I decided
to end myself.
- Oh, no.
- Oh, yes.
Marie,
do you remember our
conversation in the salon?
- When I made a certain
request of you? - Yes.
Well, I had hoped that you might
have changed your mind.
As a result of
your experiences
or the letters we exchanged.
Yes, your letters. I meant to reply,
but so many things came up.
- I'm sure you know what I mean.
- I'm afraid not.
In my case,
nothing ever comes up.
I myself arrange everything
I need for my daily work.
Nobody offers me anything.
But I'm not complaining.
Marie,
I ask you:
Do you want to die with me?
- No.
- But Marie!
Dying with you would be a happy end
to my constant suffering on this earth.
With you at my side it would
be so easy to say farewell.
Certain of your love I would prefer
the grave to the bed of any queen.
I am not the person
you think I am.
But how could I be so wrong?
How could I dare ask again,
despite your refusal,
if I were not certain that a kindred
heart beats in your breast?
That kindred thoughts
fill your mind,
that your soul is the
sister of my own?
In short, if I did not know
that you can understand my
disappointment with the world?
Because you also
see the emptiness
of all worldly efforts.
Oh, why do you let
yourself go like this?
I always enjoyed
philosophizing with you,
but you are starting
to spoil my good mood.
I agree that life is meaningless
and people are cruel,
but there's no need to
let it bother you so much.
You have to make an effort,
use a bit of imagination and good will
to see the pleasant side of things.
- So you do not love me?
- Not in the way you imagine.
You and your romantic ideas.
In the end everybody
has to die alone.
- Not even you can change that.
- Yes, I can.
We shall see.
"Henriette,
my wish to die
together with you,
in the hope that you can love
me and that I may love you,
is stronger than ever.
Forgive me my long silence.
Is it too late?
Or may I still hope?
Are you really the person
I have always believed you to be?
Give me a sign
to answer my
tormenting questions. "
How have you been?
I had not heard from you and
assumed you had forgotten about me.
Never, Henriette,
could I ever forget you.
I think of you constantly.
It is the same for me.
At least every second thought
that passes through my mind
is addressed to you,
my dear.
I was a fool.
Blinded, selfish,
full of mistrust.
I could not believe
that I could be so lucky
to find the one who would
prefer death at my side
to life at the
side of another
out of love.
So then it is settled?
We shall become
immortal together?
First I will shoot you
and then myself.
Henriette?
I have interesting
news from Paris.
Yes?
I met a doctor there who specializes
in illnesses of the spirit,
similar to Mesmer,
who is well known here in Berlin.
I gave him your records
and imagine,
he thought that your condition
may be a nervous disorder after all.
He considers it a
very interesting case.
He would like to
examine you in person.
Really?
Oh, Paris.
That would be a lovely trip.
They are very advanced in
such things there, aren't they?
Yes.
Much more so than here,
especially when illnesses
of the spirit are concerned,
I have been told.
But I have a real tumor,
not an imaginary one.
The two are connected,
the imaginary and the real.
But the political situation.
Going to Paris would
not be safe now, surely?
The journey was quite
dangerous, I admit.
You see?
Oh, we should forget about it.
No.
There is still hope.
Henriette,
we must try everything.
Oh.
I'm scared.
What if there is no cure,
and the hope was in vain?
Henriette,
you have always
been loyal to me.
Now it's my turn
to be loyal to you.
I will try everything
to keep you.
They are ringing the knells.
In memory of Queen Luise.
Oh no, you are mistaken.
Those are the bells of life.
Ringing for her redeemed
soul which is immortal.
Take your places
for the waltz.
It is bizarre.
I feel as if an outside power
was controlling me.
As if I were a puppet
in a puppet theater.
Or as if I was hypnotized
by a hypnotist,
and I cannot awake
from the trance.
And at the same time,
I realize there is no awakening.
There is no other life
than this one.
You can't choose.
Isn't that right, Vogel?
No, my dear. I do believe
some things can be chosen.
But love!
That can't be chosen.
In a way it can.
For example, you can choose to
live with me or with someone else.
With that poet, for example.
No, I couldn't live with him.
He only thinks of himself.
But if you really
did prefer him,
I want you to know that I
would respect your choice.
It would be hard for Pauline at first,
but children adapt fast.
It has got so cold,
and I don't feel well.
Shouldn't we postpone
the excursion?
But, my little dove,
an excursion would do you good.
It's exactly what you
need in your condition.
Imagine, we will be going
out of town soon. To Paris.
- Oh.
- Yes.
Vogel found a doctor
who knows a treatment
for the ulcer.
Or for the fainting
fits at least.
He may be able to cure me.
I see.
Yes, there is hope,
although the situation
does seem to be serious.
What do you carry
in that case?
Pistols?
No.
I catch butterflies.
I need all sorts of equipment for that,
which I keep in this case.
Butterflies?
- In November?
- Yes.
Excuse me...
"My little dove, my life,
the light of my life,
my all,
my every possession,
my castles and fields,
my meadows and vineyards.
Oh, sun, moon and stars,
heaven and earth,
past and future,
my bride,
my dearest friend, my heart's blood,
my bowels, light of my eyes!
My dearest,
what should I call you?
My golden child, my pearl,
my precious stone,
my crown,
my queen and empress.
My highest and dearest... "
The bodies will be taken
to the morgue later today.
The deceased left no
letters or messages,
as far as we can tell.
Have you forgotten Silesia?
The illiterate peasants were
made dizzy and brought to believe
that since they
are paying taxes
they are absolutely free to
do whatever they please.
- There were even fatalities.
- Yes.
Mankind is neither
equal nor free by nature.
Each one of us is bound
to what he happens to be.
And a state is much
closer to this truth
by not making every man
responsible for himself.
But rather by helping the ignorant
by appointing to power
those who have studied, analyzed
and thought everything through,
only to find out how difficult it
still is to make the right decisions.
Unfortunately Prussia
will soon be bankrupt,
so it will have to
make some changes
and introduce a more economical use
of land, livestock and manpower.
And this will mean
more freedom, of course.
More than we all
seem to want.
In England free trade among free citizens
brought wealth and prosperity.
Social reforms are good.
But if they mean equality
of all subjects,
remember the Jacobite terror,
they must be condemned.
If only we were spared
the democracy
where educated people
will be outvoted by the mob.
Let's hear it.
We have no secrets here.
The autopsy has revealed
that all of Madame Vogel's
internal organs were in good health.
No tumor or ulcer was found.
So it would seem it really
was a nervous disorder.
It was a mistake after all.
It was out of love after all.
Where the blue mountains
Rise from the lowering skies
Look inside
Where the sun sets
Where the clouds spread
There I would like to be
There I would like to be
There in that quiet valley
Which silences pain and woe
Where in rocky spaces
Softly sleep the primroses
And sweeps so
gently the wind
There I would like to be
There I would like to be
To the forests depths
Pushes me the
power of my love
My inner pain
My inner pain
If only I could stay
If only I could
be with you
Eternally
Eternally