David G. John - Images of Goethe Through Schiller's Egmont-Mcgill Queens University Press (1998)

Images of Goethe
Goethe through
through Schiller's
Schiller'sEgmont
Egmont
Analysing a forgotten, unpublished performance script of Friedrich Schiller's

adaptation of Goethe's play Egmont, David John examines the collaboration be-
tween the two playwrights as a means of addressing fundamental questions on
the roles of text and performance. He shows that performance, not text, consti-
tutes the essence of dramatic and theatrical experience.
John argues that shifting the focus from the text to the efficacy of perfor-
mance requires broadening our concept of performance beyond what occurs on
stage and its critical reception to include the daily life of the society that pro-
vides its context. It follows from this semiotic approach that there can be no
fixed text or understanding of Egmont or of Goethe himself— only multiple im-
ages. John's exploration of image includes literary motifs, acting, staging, and
social role playing, with particular reference to Goethe's development as an
artist and cultural icon.
In addition to presenting a comprehensive analysis of the play and a discus-
sion of Egmont's reception from its first appearance to the present (including
productions on both stage and screen), John provides an in-depth performance
analysis based on the theories of Alter, Burns, Carson, Fischer-Lichte, Goffman,
Pavis, and Schechner. The book includes the complete Mannheim manuscript
(M372), critically edited and published as a performance text for the first time.
DAVID G. JOHN is professor of German, University of Waterloo.

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Images of
Goethe through
Schiller's Egmont
DAVID G. J O H N
McGill-Queen's University Press

Montreal & Kingston • London • Ithaca
McGill-Queen's University Press 1998
ISBN 0-7735-1681-6
Legal deposit third quarter 1998

Bibliotheque nationale du Quebec
Printed in Canada on acid-free paper
This book has been published with the help of a grant from the Humanities and
Social Sciences Federation of Canada, using funds provided by the Social Sciences
and Humanities Research Council of Canada.
McGill-Queen's University Press acknowledges the support of the Canada Council

for the Arts for its publishing program.
Canadian Cataloguing in Publication Data
John, David G. (David Gethin), 1947-

Images of Goethe through Schiller's Egmont
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 0-7735-1681-6
I. Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von, 1749-1832. Egmont. 2. Schiller, Friedrich,
1759-1805.1. Title.
PTI9I5.E4J64 1998 832'.6 C097-901278-3
This book was typeset by Typo Litho Composition Inc.

in 10/12 Adobe Garamond.
Catharinae
Contents
Acknowledgments ix
Illustrations 23, 36,168-75, 186-88, 200-08, 225
Introduction 3
1 Egmont as Text: Scholarly Documentation 24
2 Egmont. Ein Trauerspiel in drey Aujziigen 36

3 From Text to Performance 92
4 Reflections of the Text in Performance 123

5 Text and Image 148
6 Acting I: Image on Stage 176
7 Acting 2: The Director's Image 189
8 Acting 3: Image in Society 209
9 Goethe and Egmont Today: Stage and Screen 226
Conclusion 268
Notes 271
Works Cited 305
Index 320
Acknowledgments
I wish to express first my gratitude to the Social Sciences and Humanities

Research Council of Canada for its generous funding over the several years of
research for this book, and to the Otto-Mann-Stiftung whose support in the last
phase enabled me to complete it.
With sincere appreciation I turn then to an academic's best friends, the li-
brarians and archivists whose expertise and engaged assistance gave me such
open access to the materials necessary for my investigation. My contact with
them never failed to leave me with a sense of admiration for their professional-
ism, competence, and academic integrity. Foremost among these are Liselotte
Homering, director of the theatre collection of the ReiB-Museum in
Mannheim, to whom I have turned many times over the past twenty years, and
to whom I owe permission to publish the Egmont manuscript in Chapter 2. A
number of others deserve mention: the library staff of my home university,
the University of Waterloo, especially the interlibrary loan personnel, Helena
Calogeridis of the German section and Michelle Sawchuk of Fine Arts; Chris
Hughes and Dorit Sachs of Central Photographic; the superb Wiirttember-
gische Landesbibliothek, Stuttgart, my home base for a productive sabbatical
year; Katharine A. Lochnan of the Art Gallery of Ontario, Maija Vilcins of the
National Gallery of Canada, Antony V. Griffiths of The British Museum De-
partment of Prints and Drawings, Stefaan Hautekeete of the Musees Royaux
des Beaux-Arts de Belgique, J.F.Heijbroek of the Rijksmuseum Amsterdam and
personnel of the Koninklijk Museum voor Schone Kunsten Antwerp; the
archivists of the Sammlung Oskar Fambach at the University of Bonn; Ulrike
Miiller-Harang, Goethe-Nationalmuseum Weimar, and the staff of the Anna-
Amalia-Bibliothek; further, Michael Assmann, Anhaltliches Theater Dessau;
x Acknowledgments
Rita Czapka and "special agent" Monika Bartl, Wiener Burgtheater; like
Dietrich, Schauspielhaus Leipzig; Irma Dohn, Schauspiel Bonn; Daniela
Gmachl, Elisabethbiihne Salzburg; Rudolf Gretscher, Bayerisches Staatsschaus-
piel, Munich; Ann Kersting, Brigitte Klein and Bernd Wirth, Stadt- und Uni-
versitatsbibliothek Frankfurt am Main; Irmgard Mickisch, Hans-Otto-Theater
Potsdam; Brigitte Neiner, Stadttheater Bern; Peter NiC and Haris Balic, The-
atersammlung der Osterreichischen Nationalbibliothek in Vienna; Mr Prinz and
M. Riihl, Schauspielhaus Frankfurt; Ulrich Ried, Staatstheater Karlsruhe; Hans
Rossler, Brandenburger Theater; Claudia Romeder, Wiener Burgtheater; Hans
Riibesame, Deutsches Theater, Berlin; Karin Scheider, Nationaltheater, We-
imar; M. Schultheiss, Schauspielhaus, Zurich; Ursula Zangerle, Dumont-Lin-
demann-Archiv in Diisseldorf; and Volkmar Hansen and Regine Zeller,
Goethe-Museum in Diisseldorf.
The contribution of some personal friends also deserves acknowledgment,
among them John Hobday for his interest in and respect for my work, and for
joining with Gisela Stock to engineer the acquisition of a dtv WeimarerAusga.be
long after it had gone out of print, a kindness that saved me immense effort and
left me with a research resource for a lifetime. I also wish to thank Peter Luft,
who worked on the manuscript in chapter 2, Dagmar Jangl, who assisted in the
final stages of production, and finally, for much animated stimulation, the
students of my graduate course on Goethe in the winter of 1994, particularly
Gabriele Franke, who contributed to the material on stage productions in chap-
ter 9, and Linda Schmoll, whose own dissertation research has drawn me to the
magic of the silver screen.
I gratefully acknowledge the following for permission to publish the

illustrations:
Figures I, 20, 21, 23-34, 37» 39» 40: Stiftung Weimarer Klassik/Museen.
Figures 2 and 3: Theatersammlung. ReiB-Museum. Stadt Mannheim.
Figures 4 and 14: Wiirttembergische Landesbibliothek, Stuttgart.
Figures 5-16, 19 and 22: Goethe-Museum. Anton-und-Katharina-Kippenberg-
Stiftung. Diisseldorf.
Figure 17: Deutsches Theatermuseum. Miinchen.
Figure 18: Ruth Freydank. Theater in Berlin. Berlin: Kunst und Gesellschaft,
1988, p. 164. Original in the Stadtmuseum Berlin. Photo by Christel Leh-
mann.
Figure 35: Fiirstlich Waldecksche Hauptverwaltung, Bad Arolsen.
Figure 36: By courtesy of the National Portrait Gallery, London.
Figure 38: Insel Verlag, Frankfurt am Main and Leipzig.
Figure 41: Mara Eggert. Frankfurt am Main.
Images of Goethe through Schiller's Egmont
Introduction
Can we say something new about the most prominent authors of ages past and
show their relevance for modern times? In Goethe's case it seems almost pre-
sumptuous to try, for there are already many excellent studies and the growing
mountain of scholarly literature on his work is already so immense that one can
never be sure of having read even the relevant contributions. From the outset my
eye was on Goethe's dramas, and it focussed sharply when I first saw Manuscript
372, in the theatre collection of the ReiB-Museum, Mannheim. There is always
that tingle of excitement when turning the pages of an unknown, handwritten
document, the hope of casting light on seasoned problems and questions, per-
haps truly adding something to our knowledge of past and present. Its title page
read Egmont. Ein Trauerspiel in drey AufZugen, and below, in a different hand
"Von J.W. von Goethe." Goethe's Egmont of 1788 in three acts/ Never. Schiller's
adaptation of 1796? Perhaps. Whose text was it, whose play? The manuscript
consisted of 299 clearly written pages, yet beyond the original scribe's hand there
was evidence of many others: deletions, insertions, re-arrangements, evidence in
fact, some would say, of a mutilation of this text by many hands. Or was it an im-
provement, an adaptation, a new play? With such massive changes, could it still
be called the work of either of its suspected authors? These were the questions
that led after several years to my title, itself deliberately multilayered, for we are
dealing here with an ambivalent notion of what dramatic literature is, and with
an ambivalent man. The manuscript is indeed Goethe's play in Schiller's adapta-
tion, first performed in Weimar exactly two centuries ago. It belongs to neither
author, and it belongs to both. It is dramatic literature, but it is also a perfor-
mance text, and as a result a work in flux. This manuscript is the foundation of
any new insights I may have to offer about Goethe in the following pages.
4 Images of Goethe through Schiller's Egmont
Some may be alarmed by my drift away from the original text and examina-
tion of Egmont primarily through Schiller's adaptation, but I am reminded of the
thoughts of Canadian playwright Michael McKenzie who spoke recently at the
"Why Theatre?" conference (University of Toronto, November 1995). Theatre,
he claimed, should come to grips with reality; odierwise it is simply pageantry, a
reinforcement of history, fixed image and the status quo. Performances of Go-
ethe and Egmont that insist on a literal and complete rendition of the masters
original are pageants, edifications of an icon, not first and foremost theatre, and
what is more, even the notion that such rituals are possible is absurd. The Man-
nheim manuscript is but one example to show that the texts of all plays, when
actually performed, are changed to a lesser or greater extent and become adapta-
tions, and any other directors or prompters book would demonstrate the same
point. There is no such thing as an absolutely faithful production, the question is
rather the extent of the adaptation and our judgement of its effectiveness.
I am arguing in this book against the ultimate authority of any dramatic text
as an expression of a single author; in favour of multiple texts in conjunction
with performance as a reflection of that author's work. I am arguing, too, that
the concept of performance must go beyond what happens on stage, for perfor-
mance permeates every aspect of our daily lives, especially the life of a man like
Goethe who was actor, playwright, director, producer, civil servant, clandestine
lover, and many other things, all roles demanding different performances. My
repeated reading of Egmont, my growing knowledge of Goethe's life and times,
and my interest in modern socio-anthropological theatre analysis made me
realize that this play is rooted in a multifacetted concept of Goethe's image,
whether we think of its genesis, literary qualities, and autobiographical connec-
tions, or of the way it has been produced on stage and screen. As there is no
fixed text for Goethe's drama, there can be no fixed understanding of him, so
this book is not about Goethe, but about his images, his images in Egmont, his
images of Egmont, and his images of himself through his own eyes and the eyes
of others. Martin Walser's In Goethe's Hand(1982) revolves around the commis-
sion of a portrait that would reflect adequately Goethe's persona and genius, but
the result was a kaleidoscope of images instead, and while not intentionally con-
nected with "Walser's work, Effi Biedrzynski has given us a visual representation
of the same thing in Goethes Weimar (136—7). Here, staring out at us, is not one
Goethe but eighteen pairs of Goethe eyes, an eerie, arresting confrontation with
German classicism.
My book begins With written text and ends with moving pictures. Originally,
I planned to do as I always had done, to concentrate on text in its historical
context, but linking Egmont with modern times requires attention to recent
stage performances and to the media through which most people experience
drama today: television and film. The emphasis Goethe placed on the visual
dimensions of production through the harmonious interdependence of acting,
costumes, and sets is no secret to anyone familiar with his theatre, an emphasis
5 Introduction
in many ways akin to the aesthetics of opera. The more meaningful the visual
elements in dramatic performance, the less isolated is the text; in fact, in many
dramatic situations visual images are far more eloquent than the text itself. We
might ask with regard to any productions of plays, and particularly modern
productions and films of Egmont, just how much of the original text is actually
needed for the audience to grasp the essence of what the playwright had to say?
Goethe's emphasis on the visual dimension is an argument for his modernity, an
anticipation of the great advances in the technology of stage production and its
culmination in moving pictures.
Beyond my personal interest in eighteenth-century theatre, I believe there is
good reason to value continued study of Goethe's dramas. If we believe that
classical writers should be kept alive at the very least to help maintain a sense of
cultural history, then a case can be made for concentrating on Goethe's plays,
for they have far more potential for continuing impact in the modern world
than his prose or lyrical writings. In practical terms, how does the number of
Goethe readers today compare with Goethe viewers in theatres, cinemas, and in
front of televisions at home? Audiences for his works on stage in the last fifteen
years have numbered in the tens of thousands (Was spielten die Theater, 1981—90;
Wer spielte was, 1990-93), and those exposed to his dramas on television and
film potentially many more. Moreover, Goethe remains very much part of
the ongoing discussion of the so-called "klassisches Erbe" in German-speaking
countries. Disrespect for him and for the classical tradition is fashionable in
some circles, though this is hardly a modern phenomenon, for he had in his
own time many detractors whose bitter legacy has been well recorded (Man-
delkow, Schidrowitz, Borchmeyer in Bender). Still, appreciative books and
articles continue to appear at a steady pace, with Goethe's celebrity often tran-
scending the world of literary studies and fascinating scholars in many fields.
Part of this continuing revaluation is contained in new primary works such as
Peter Hacks's Ein Gesprdch im Hause Stein tiber den abwesenden Herrn von
Goethe (1975) and Walser's In Goethes Hand, both of which reexamine Goethe's
relationships with those closest to him and reveal a man whose magnificent ge-
nius and accomplishments were often accompanied by personal arrogance and
callous insensitivity.
Besides the fortuitous finding of a manuscript, there are good reasons to fo-
cus on Egmont specifically. From its inception, the play was a headache to pro-
duce, so that after the initial failure of the original in 1789, Goethe looked for
help and collaborated with Schiller who produced his adapation. This alliance
made Egmont an excellent subject for what I consider an important task of
literary scholarship: to draw closer together the two major strands of theatre,
dramatic literature and stage performance. It is a telling fact that most critical
interpretations of Egmont have been published without reference to its perfor-
mance at all. In reassessing it in terms of both elements, we might accomplish
what even a contemporary reviewer thought almost impossible: "Es ist iiber
dieses herrliche Erzeugnif? der Muse unsers Gothe schon so viel gesagt und ge-
schrieben worden, daB sich wohl nicht leicht etwas Neues hinzufugen lieBe"
(Zeitbilder 31.1.1830). Despite production problems, more than one critic has as-
serted that Egmont is in fact Goethe's best stage play, for example, Friedrich Sen-
gle (1952), who calls it "...als Biihnendrama wohl das starkste Goethes" (36),
and Benjamin Bennett (1979), who assigns it a central role in the development
of European theatre. Egmont is unique among Goethe's dramatic works (Faust
excluded) in that it contains the widest range of social interactions, a spectrum
comparable to Goethe's world when he wrote it: private and public relation-
ships in the breadth of society, the court, and the international forum. The play
has an historical significance with repercussions in Goethes time and our own.
It was also the first of Goethe's dramas to be performed on the Weimar court
stage in a form radically different from its original, as Hans Gerhard Graf put
it, "ein denkwiirdiges Ereignis in der Geschichte des Weimarischen, ja des deut-
schen Theaters iiberhaupt" (1924; 299). The fact that the manuscript with
which I begin is also connected specifically with the Nationaltheater in Mann-
heim is a further reason for concentrating on Egmont, for it opens up the
possibility of comparing two of the great German theatres of the day. August
Wilhelm Iffland (1759-1814), who played the first Egmont in Weimar, came di-
rectly from Mannheim; Mannheim's Intendant Wolfgang Heribert von Dalberg
(1750—1806) and Goethe had much in common in their sense of production, es-
pecially in their attention to visual harmony; and both theatres suffered decline
when the strong leadership of the glory days weakened.
More than most dramas from the past, Egmont can appeal to modern audi-
ences because of its timeless relevance. One can hardly read it without thinking
of direct parallels with recent events around us: the liberation of people from
political oppression, religious warfare, human savagery, police-state repression,
and a popular hero with feet of clay. Who can hear Buyk's "und immer die
Feinde im Flufi zusammen gehauen, weggeschossen wie die Enten. Was nun
noch durchbrach, schlugen Euch auf der Flucht die Bauerweiber mit Hacken
und Mistgabeln todt" [18], or Egmont's "Ruhig sieht der Soldat wohl im Felde
seinen Kameraden neben sich niederfallen; aber den FluB? herunter werden dir
die Leichen der Burger, der Kinder, der Jungfrauen entgegen schwimmen, daB
du mit Entsetzen da stehst, und nicht mehr weiBt, wessen Sache du ver-
theidigst" [102], without today thinking of Bosnia, Somalia, or other fields of
human torture?1 Who can hear the Zimmermeister's "Und mit groBen Ver-
sprechen, werden Vater, Mutter, Kinder, Verwandte, Freunde, Dienstbothen
eingeladen, was in dem innersten des Hauses vorgeht, bey dem besonders nied-
ergesetzten Gerichte zu offenbaren" [112] without reflecting on modern, indeed
very recent German history? Who can hear Vansen's "Seyd nur ruhig. Gott im
Himmel erfahrt nichts von Euch Wiirmern, geschweige der Regent" [123] with-
out feeling the sense of alienation many people experience today? Despite this,
in an excellent article on Egmont, Hartmut Reinhardt, who with Norbert Miller
7 Introduction
has also provided us with a superb edition in the Miinchner Ausgabe of Goethe's
works, writes: "... soziale Thematik nach heutigem Verstandnis handelt das
Drama nicht ab - wer solches von ihm verlangt, bringt es ebenso um seinen his-
torischen Ort wie um seine spezifische Struktur" (134). On the contrary, it is my
position that the social themes of Egmont, while indeed first understandable
within a specific historical frame, do have a timeless relevance which must be
recognized by modern directors and audiences. If this play or any other of
Goethe's plays is to be more than a museum piece it must have something to do
with todays social and political circumstances, and in chapter 9 we will see how
modern directors and audiences have addressed this. The continuing relevance
of Egmont even struck Goethe in his own time. More than a decade after begin-
ning to write it, he noted "dafi sie eben jetzt in Briissel die Szene spielen, wie ich
sie vor zwolf Jahren aufschrieb" (WA I, 32, 3i).2 He had read in the paper that
the Brabanter were insisting on their old rights in the face of the state and
church reform politics of Kaiser Joseph n.
The first chapter of this book deals with the scholarly documentation of
Egmont as text. Although I place considerable emphasis throughout the study
on performance and visual aspects I wish to leave no doubt about my convic-
tion that it is the text that is the foundation of sophisticated western drama.
The question is, what text? We have come to rely on certain scholarly editions
when answering this question for both Goethe's and Schiller's works. This chap-
ter surveys those editions, calls into question their reliability for modern schol-
arship, and leads to the publication of the Mannheim manuscript in chapter 2,
which is essentially a critical edition of one version of Egmont and my primary
text base for the discussion from then on. Chapter 3 then looks at the transfor-
mation of this text into performance, examining the many aspects of the manu-
script that are clues to how it was produced on stage. Then, with reference to
twenty-four towns and cities and concentrating on seven, I move in chapter 4 to
the question of contemporary reception, how Egmont was produced, seen, and
received in Goethe's time, and its playwrights along with it. Chapter 5 concen-
trates on the literary images in the text of Egmont, in an attempt to show their
metaphorical power and their role in making the play revolve around the visual
elements. Chapters 6 to 8 explore three fundamental aspects of image: the actor
on stage, through an analysis of Iffland as Egmont in the 1796 premiere and of
other great actors soon after; Goethe the director, in his role as intendant of the
Weimar theatre; and image in society, a reconsideration of Goethe's life at the
time he wrote Egmont, from the perspective of his own relationships and activ-
ity as a visual artist. Using a method similar to the analysis of contemporary
productions in chapter 4, chapter 9 then turns to our own times and to Egmont
productions on the modern German stage and on film.
Briefly stated, I hope to offer in the following pages new insights into Egmont
and its author from a different point of view. As part of the process I present a
critical overview of scholarship on the play and integrate many existing studies
into my own; Schiller's Egmont manuscript, largely forgotten today but impor-
tant for an understanding of the play; detailed consideration of Egmont recep-
tion in Goethe's time; many relevant pictures, some rare; and a discussion of
modern Egmont productions and films.
OVERVIEW OF "EGMONT" S C H O L A R S H I P
I have tried as far as possible to absorb and integrate into my study the mass of
scholarly literature on Egmont and at the same time to avoid reiterating, retrac-
ing, or analysing in depth thematic elements that have been established and well
explored by others. But since these are important for a balanced understanding
of the play, I offer here an overview of many of the studies I consulted. Others
are cited in the chapters as they become relevant. Many critics have included in
their work surveys and summaries of previous research on Egmont, each of
which differs in extent, selection, and the approach of its author, and all of
which became outdated almost from the moment they were written. I hope to
bring the picture up to date at least for a short time. Among the more frequent
types of critical studies on Egmont are general commentaries on the entire text,
analyses of the play's structure and language, thematically focussed discussions
on the daemonic and politics, treatments of visual aspects, and, finally, discus-
sions of Schiller's adaptation. I shall order my survey according to these topics
and proceed chronologically in an effort to show the development of critical
thought about Egmont.
General Commentaries
Heinrich Diintzer's positivistic volume of 1858 (2nd ed. 1874), the first major,
general treatment of Egmont, still deserves our respect, for it contains much of
what many scholars since have merely reiterated and expanded. Besides chapters
on the play's genesis (5-14) and sources and structure (15-52), Diintzer offers an
act-by-act commentary (53-115), an analysis of the major characters, and a sum-
mary of Schiller's adaptation. A similar assiduousness is evident in Ernst Zim-
mermann's comprehensive and highly methodical book on Egmont (1909), the
reprint in 1973 proving its durability as a mine of information on the basic ele-
ments of the play: a summary of scholarship to 1909, a detailed analysis of the
major characters, social groups and themes (which seem not to have changed
much in the critical literature since), autobiographical elements, sources, and
genesis. There followed studies indebted to "Geistesgeschichte" and distin-
guished by their emotional tone, autobiographical linkages, and blithe disdain
for documentation, such as that by Linden (1926). Briiggemann (1925), Busch
(1949), and Grenzmann (1964) discuss die themes of Egmontin a fashion useful
for students and a general readership. In their close reading style, they quote co-
piously from Goethe's original, but there is little reference to preceding critical
9 Introduction
studies. Wilkinsons article (1949; reprint 1962) is a treasure, and rightly often
quoted for decades thereafter. She discusses Egmont's politics, but more impor-
tantly, its first eight pages are an eloquent and witty aesthetic discussion, calling
for originality in critical interpretation; above all it is an impressive affirmation
of the poetic merits of the play within the context of Goethe's work. Hans
Wolffs chapter on Egmont in his book on Goethe's Weg zur Humanitat (1951)
shows how difficult it is to sew any work seamlessly into the fabric of its authors
life and ceuvre; he sometimes stretches the notions of influence and interdepen-
dence bizarrely out of shape (Egmont compared with Shakespeare's Julius Caesar
[102], Klarchen's language with the metre of the Romische Elegien [112], Bracken-
burg with Werther [113]). Emil Staiger's treatment in his classic Goethe study a
year later, while far more expansive and smooth, nevertheless shares a similar
underlying objective: to discuss the work foremost as a means to appreciate its
poet. Rudolf Ibel's undated, mid-century, succinct summary of the sources, gen-
esis, and contents of Egmont's, as well as the main thematic thrusts, could still be
useful for anyone wanting a quick overview, and some of his points of reference
anticipate critical inquiries of more depth to come in the next decades, for ex-
ample, the play's "balladenhafte Gestaltung" and "sprachliche Gestaltung" (3;
see Hof and Schwan below). Besides being a sensible overview, though scarcely
touching on other critical studies, the book by the English scholar Ronald
Peacock (1959) offers independent opinions and insights: that like Schiller we
should resist interpretation on the basis of Egmont's daemon (42); that Schiller's
analysis of the play's weaknesses was correct only from the point of view of or-
thodox dramaturgy; and that Goethe was approaching a new type of drama
based on ideals, portraits and ideas (48-9). For him the message of the play is
the destruction of a romantic ideal. Paul Bockmann's essay a year later (1960)
provides a general discussion of similar quality, which begins by emphasizing
the importance of text and dialogue, but goes on to include important thematic
aspects. Like Peacock, Bockmann rejects Schiller's adaptation, because it made
the play in his mind too causal, thus losing another type of realism which stems
from Egmont's "idealische Symbolform" and "musikalische Verflechtung der
Motive" (168). Although rarely cited in the critical literature, R.D. Miller's book
on Goethe's dramas (1966) contains an independently insightful consideration
of the themes in Egmont, based on the polarity between the assertion and denial
of life: "The contradiction between life affirmed and life portrayed in terms of
tragedy, is the central problem of the play" (42). Millers analysis would be espe-
cially useful as an introduction for English-speaking readers, with the frequent
citations from Goethe's original all accompanied by translations, although its
absence of critical documentation is unacceptable today. Miller's reading
contains some idiosyncratic oddities, for example, "Egmont's relations with
Klarchen are purely existential, which is what she means when she says that he
is to her 'so nur Mensch, nur Freund, nur Liebster'. In meeting on a purely
existential plane, they cancel out the categories normally applicable to personal
io Images of Goethe through Schiller's Egmont
relations" (26-7). Yet blind spots such as this do not seriously undermine the
value of the contribution. Albert Fuchs (1968) forces Egmont into his book's
overall thesis that characters can be divided into contrasting vital or intellectual
types. Like more than one literary scholar, Fuchs shows a disturbing bias against
Egmont as a theatrical work: "Man weiK, daf? Schiller den 'Egmont' fur die
Biihne bearbeitet hat. Man weib auch, dafi diese Bearbeitung nicht durchge-
drungen ist. Ihre korrektere Regelrechtheit hat sich als armer erwiesen denn
der zuweilen formwidrige, formzweigende Reichtum Goethes" (19). The bias is
born of ignorance, for as my fourth and ninth chapters show, Schiller's adap-
tation long had resonance, and still has today; moreover, anyone who knows
the play can see at a glance that Goethe's Egmont is as formally structured as
Schiller's in every respect. Roger Nicholls (1970) also offers a good general, if
rather unfocussed analysis. Hartmut Reinhardt's article in 1980 is to my taste
the best brief modern summary, including an excellent review of much of the
most important critical literature and the major themes of the daemonic, poli-
tics, and the influence of Italy. This, along with his work as editor of Egmont in
the Munchner Ausga.be make him a leading modern critic of the play. Egmont
seems to have remained fashionable to some extent in the pedagogy of the
1980s, if we are to judge by Wilhelm GroBe's tightly competent overview (1987).
The many Goethe biographies and several single-volume treatments of his
works naturally include Egmont, but cannot count among the important con-
tributions to our understanding. Recent examples are Nicholas Boyle's huge
Goethe biography (1991; Egmont 356-61) and Benedikt Jefiing's tightly written
Metzler overview, including a good summary of the themes and of some of the
more important critical studies (1995, 57-63). Wolfgang Fehr's 1994 study on
the dramas of Goethe's youth stops short of our play.
Structure and Language
Jeffrey Sammons's article (1963) goes beyond what we might expect from its ti-
tle. It begins by discussing the play's structure in terms of acts, scenes, appear-
ance of characters, and motifs, calling it "a balance and symmetry of external
construction which is quite out of the ordinary" (245). What does not fit, how-
ever, is the final vision scene (247), which he interprets as a movement to a new,
dramatically inconsistent, plane on which the new theme of political freedom
for the Netherlands becomes central. This he sees as a direct contrast to the
foregoing, which focussed entirely on Egmont's personal freedom, even to the
detriment of the populace. Sammons's argument, along with some others, was
attacked vehemently by John Ellis fifteen years later, as we shall see. Paul Bock-
mann (1966) makes only passing reference to previous criticism in a footnote
(525—6), but he offers an independent analysis of the language of Egmont us part
of the overall thesis of his book, an emphasis that sets him apart from most
other critics. In what is one of the most important modern discussions,
II Introduction
Benjamin Bennett (1979) made Egmont the fulcrum for his bold argument
about the contribution of German classicism to modern drama. Bennett bases
his analysis on the structure of Egmont, arguing that this structure represents a
spiral with the protagonist at its core. He argues that the notion of self-delusion
becomes central to Egmont's character and paradigmatic for further develop-
ments in European drama.
The Daemonic
Karl Vietor (1949) discusses Egmont within the section "Natur - Damon und
Schicksal" in his classic Goethe book. His close reading of the play concludes, as
other studies before him: "dieses Vertrauen in den Damon wird schlieBlich die
Ursache von Egmonts Untergang" (53). Hans Naumann (1953) takes the notion
one step further in his reading (with almost no reference to other critical stud-
ies), inflating the protagonist within the Germanic tradition: "Wir konnen von
einem Egmontmythos sprechen, wie wir es tun von einem Balder-, einem Sieg-
fridmythos, und wir sprachen in alien drei Fallen nur von einunddemselben
Mythos" (287). While there is little connection between Naumann's main point
and Bennett's argument above, the notion of Egmont as paradigmatic is similar.
Edith Braemer's (1960) article resulted from a Weimar Goethe colloquium, and
despite its heavy Marxist orientation is an instructive discussion of the tension
between "Notwendigkeit" and "Freiheit." Konrad Schaums broad understand-
ing of the daemonic (1960) includes the wider context of Goethe's oeuvre in a
learned and sensible analysis.IIse Graham (1988) allies herself with Helmut Rein-
hardt (179, fn. 6), but her treatment contains many subtleties that transcend his
overview, particularly in her discussion of Egmont as actor (183) and the image
of the horse (187-91), both of which are important for my study. Finally, I must
mention W. Daniel Wilson's fascinating recent article on gender crossing in
Alice Kuzniar's important new book on Goethe (1996). Wilson reexamines
Egmont from the point of view of gender, breaking entirely new ground, a point
of view which is certainly related to the concept of the daemonic. He reassesses
all the major figures in the play, concluding convincingly that we must rethink
our notions of masculinity and femininity in this work and in others.
Politics
The first person to represent the position that political themes dominate in
Egmont was Karl Rosenkranz (1847) whose positivistic book defended Goethe's
alteration of some of the fundamental facts about Egmont to make it more
"allgemein menschlich (232)." He concludes that the play is "ein politisches
Drama" (225) in the sense that it is an exploration of the concepts of bourgeois
freedom, absolutism, and monarchy. Georg Keferstein (1937) also contributed a
solid, methodical overview of Egmont's political stance, but insisted on its
12, Images of Goethe through Schiller's Egmont
apolitical nature. These opposite conclusions laid the ground for later studies
supporting one side or the other. Wilhelm Mommsen's book (1948) on Goethe's
political views is not strictly a literary study and surprisingly refers to Egmont
only occasionally, but the late sixties, as we might expect, saw a fresh emphasis
on political diematics. Horst Hartmann (1967) saw the play as distinctly politi-
cal, and from his GDR-perspective (similar to Edith Braemer's in 1960), a testi-
mony to the liberating spirit of a suppressed people. The Volk as an identifiable
political entity was central to the interpretations of politically oriented critics
like these, but a weakness in their approach becomes evident from more sophis-
ticated analyses. Harry Haile's solid article (1967) shows how Goethe's evolving
political views were reflected in Egmont and how these views parallel the play's
organic genesis over many years. For Haile, Egmont and his author could be
characterized by "organic traditionalism," Alba and his ilk by "rational melior-
ism" (103). Klaus Ziegler's close reading of Egmont as a political drama (1968),
which contains no references to other critical studies, is in effect an argument
that the play is not strictly political at all. He blends textual analysis with
biographical and historical references to argue in a philosophical more than a
political sense that Egmont reflects the German " Volksidee" and anticipates the
enlightenment sense of "Nationalidee." The Marxist approach is again at the
core of Hans-Dietrich Dahnke's long and comprehensive contribution (1970),
one which convinces this reader at least that Egmont lends itself well to that
school of thought. He concludes: "Egmont reprasentiert die Nation, und sein
Tod ist eine Fackel, die die Nation in eine helle Zukunft fiihrt. In diesem
Drama ist eine ganze Nation durch den despotischen Anspruch provoziert, und
in der historischen Replik, die die SchluBvision antizipiert, eroffnet sich eine
Perspektive, die dem Tod des Helden einen tieferen Sinn verleiht" (59). It will
be interesting in our later chapter on modern Egmont productions to see how
this scene was depicted in the two parts of Germany. Peter Michelsen, in an ar-
ticle impressive for its scholarly foundation and extensive references to previous
critical literature (1971), reached the different yet equally sensible conclusion,
that Egmont's acceptance of his fate because of the political reality is tanta-
mount to his liberation since he escapes from this realm to realize his freedom
in another, as signalled by the final vision (297). In the same year, Martin Swales
delivered a lucidly argued, and subsequently controversial interpretation which,
while concentrating initially on the ending of Egmont, made its strongest state-
ments about the protagonist's political stance. He refers, as ironically John Ellis
later does, to Elizabeth Wilkinson's 1949 treatment as the best to date, and also
provides a tight and fair-minded summary of studies before his own. Swales
writes that Egmont's reaction to political events was simply irrational, i.e., he re-
fused to believe and act on what was obvious to anyone observing the political
events occurring before his very eyes (835). He accepted the adulation of the
people but resisted any responsibility to act on their behalf (836). In the final
scenes, with Ferdinand and in the vision, he accepted the apparent fulfillment
13 Introduction
offered, yet these were merely half-truths about his real nature. Swales con-
cludes that Egmont is deliberately a "complex and political daydreaming dialec-
tic of affirmation and criticism" (835-6). Irmgard Hobson's article (1975) is
perhaps the best analysis of the Egmont/Oranien/Alba scenes and is based sol-
idly in previous studies. She argues from the perspective of an audience mem-
ber, is transparently logical, and concludes that in the Egmont/Oranien
dealings, personal considerations dominate over political ones, whereas between
Egmont and Alba it is the reverse.
A separate paragraph must be devoted to the Egmont feud carried on for a de-
cade between George A. Wells and John Ellis, two critics who possess admirable
critical insight, yet whose interpretations were diametrically opposed and re-
sulted in personal confrontation. The dispute began in 1970 with Wells's idio-
syncratic close reading which cited the behaviour of caterpillars and oxen as the
first step towards some sweeping generalizations about human nature, Egmonts
daemon, and his political stance (54-5). With frequent reference to the studies
of fellow countrymen Peacock and Wilkinson, Wells claimed that quasireligious
and metaphysical views of "das Damonische" have obscured a more scientific
interpretation, namely, that social behaviour is dictated by two complementary
forces or instincts, to lead or to follow; Egmont is clearly characterized by the
former, his fellow-citizens by the latter (58). Wells concludes that Egmonts dae-
mon is a much more important force in this play than political insight. Eight
years later, John Ellis took Wells and others to task, providing not just an inci-
sive essay but fireworks in his searing attack. In arguing against calling Egmont
politically irresponsible, he notes that scholars such as Swales, Sammons, and
Wells would have spared us their negative and erroneous assessments of Egmonts
political position (120), had they paid attention to Wilkinson's masterful article
of 1949 which overturned the until then predominant view that Egmont was a
careless, almost irresponsible politician. Wells quickly retaliated in an article on
"critical issues" concerning Egmont (1979). For Wells the crisis revolved around
the nature of Ellis's argument, "not so much because of its specific claims and
the evidence offered in support of them, but because of the wider issue of what
constitutes evidence and argument in literary criticism" (301). He doubts Ellis's
judgement of Wilkinson and even his ability to measure the value of one critical
study against another. He rejects Ellis's support of Wilkinson's (and Schiller's)
argument that Egmont is irresponsible as a politician and loses the audience's
sympathy as a result. What is more, in an arrogantly condescending conclusion
Wells takes it upon himself to lecture Ellis on the methodology of reading and
understanding metaphors (305—6). His adversary countered with what at first
appeared to be the knockout blow in 1981, summarizing what he saw as Wells's
unfair, often misinformed, and downright ingenuous arguments, defending and
reinforcing his own position. Wells returned to the fight almost a decade later
(1988-89), continuing to lecture Ellis on metaphors and analogies. Still as much
an animal lover as in 1970, this time he started with Pavlov's dogs, adding birds,
bats, and snakes. The general part of this article is indeed instructive, as are the
later examples in Egmont, and Wells updates his thinking to include an assess-
ment of more recent scholarship, foremost that of Hartmut Reinhardt who at
times replaces Ellis as a punching bag. Wells rejects important parts of Rein-
hardt's argument, calling abstruse academic language one of its main faults,
which "disease" he sees as "a marked feature of literary criticism, and in Ger-
many the style goes back at least to the days when transcendental philosophy
was in vogue ... Schopenhauer" (8). Egmont becomes a crucible for Wells's gen-
eral critique of modern scholarship, and of German academe in particular. Still,
he reserved the final sally for Ellis, concluding: "From this we may gather that
there could be no clearer illustration than our controversy as to why I find the
views of so many literary critics unacceptable, and of how my views appear to
them" (12).
Jiirgen Schroder either ignored, or was oblivious to, this controversy when he
published his stimulating essay in the Hinck volume on historical drama (1981).
Here politics is defined within broader terms, Schroder claiming: "Dieses Werk,
das im Laufe seiner dissonanten Wirkungsgeschichte so oft in den Verdacht
geriet, weder ein historisches Drama noch ein politisches Freiheitsdrama zu
sein, ist in Wahrheit ein besonders durchdachtes und potenziertes Geschichts-
schauspiel" (103). Despite an annoying habit of citing other scholars without
adequate referencing - how is this possible in the eighties and in the hands of
such a distinguished editor? — Schroder provides an insightful analysis, one
which is in many ways similar to that attempted by previous GDR critics, but
in a less ideological and more palatable manner. His conclusion: "Egmont
ist eine symbolische Figur, kein Einzelner. In ihm begegnete Goethe dem
idealtypischen Inbild seiner personlichen Geschichtserfahrung und vorrevolu-
tionaren Geschichtshoffnung, und alle seine Veranderungen am historischen
Vorbild dienen der Absicht, diese Reprasentanz noch reiner zu gestalten" (106).
Volkmar Braunbehrens' first of two articles (1980) is distinguished by the sheer
inventiveness and insight of his close reading. His somewhat didactic subtitle,
"Zweite Lektiire iiber einen Helden Goethes," is followed by the promise of a
new Egmont book, which as far as I know has never appeared, regrettable in
light of this author s insights. He shows Egmont as essentially a dreamer, inca-
pable of coming to grips with the political reality of his situation, sleepy, dis-
tracted, even a "Spinner" (26). The section "Wochenkind und Riese" is an
inventive interpretation of the hero as child, with evidence from both text and
psycholanalytical theory (27-34). In his second article (1982), Braunbehrens fo-
cusses on connections to Weimar politics in Goethes time: "Die Beziige auf die
Weimarer Verhaltnisse sind so evident, dafS sie im Kontext der Entstehungsge-
schichte nur benannt zu werden brauchen" (95), which he goes on to do con-
vincingly. Not so far from diis in approach is Renato Saviane's 1987 essay whose
title, "Egmont, ein politischer Held," misleads, for it is less a study of Egmont
and more a treatment of several plays within the broad context of eighteenth-
ij Introduction
century absolutism and politics. Recently, Gonthier-Louis Fink's outstanding

article (1990) has sliced through the socioethnographic layers of Egmont's Volk
with clinical precision to reveal it as "vielgestaltig und vielfaltig" (240) in atti-
tude, political philosophy, and national character. Like Braunbehrens, Dieter
Borchmeyer (1994) has offered a contemporary understanding of the political
themes, arguing that the play contains "eine verdeckte Polemik gegen die Politik
Josephs II." (49). He points out that the little Duchy of Saxe-Weimar was
fearful of Emperor Joseph's expansionist plans, which had again jeopardized the
independence of the Netherlands and caused a revolt in 1787—89. We recall
Goethe's own comment on the play's ongoing relevance. As an agent of the
Weimar court, even Goethe himself was followed by the Emperor's spies while
in Rome (160). Finally, W. Daniel Wilson (1994) provides brilliant observations
on the politics of Egmont as well as other Goethe works through the motif of
hunger. His invigorating article links textual elements directly with the stage
performance of the citizen scenes (86—7).
The Visual
Few studies have emphasized the importance of visual elements in Egmont, the
focus of my interest in this book. The final vision scene has naturally played a
role in some, but almost always because of its thematic importance rather than
theatrical effect, and little has been written about how it was in fact performed
in various productions. Walter Hof (1950) begins with the notion that Egmont
has a balladic structure, that is, "keine im engen Sinn dramatische Spannung,
sondern jene, wie sie zwischen den Einzelbildern der Ballade ensteht, deren
Zusammenhang der Horer umso sicherer, grofier und groKfarbiger herstellt, je
verhaltener er verschwiegen wird, und je groBer also die Spannung zwischen
den Bildern ist, je weniger sie sich entwickeln, je mehr sie einfach da sind"
(91). HoPs is one of the few older studies to step outside the heavily cited con-
ventional interpretations stressing Egmont's daemon or the political intrigue.
His was a modern eye which appreciated the impact of the play's powerful im-
ages on audiences then and now. Almost four decades later, Werner Schwan
showed similar insight: "TableaumaBig werden Situationen und Konfigura-
tionen nebeneinandergeriickt, subtil und differenziert ausgemalt, aufeinander
mit ihrem Stimmungs— und Ideengehalt bezogen, so da6 sie sich wechselseitig
erhellen" (61). Unfortunately, Schwan fails to carry this thematic strand
through, shifting his argument to consider other aspects, but his emphasis in
the early pages on the "Bildhaftigkeit" of the play is valuable. Both he and Hof
were taking up something that Schiller had stressed two centuries before in his
review of Egmont in 1788, no doubt the most quoted since, and one which I
will be able to consider in some detail in chapters 6-8. Finally, while not a
work on the visual elements, Calhoun's detailed, knowledgeable study (1987)
on the relationship between Egmont And Beethoven's music should be seen in
: same vein, i.e., as recognizing the importance of extratextual, sensory ele-

:nts of production.
Schiller's Adaptation
irold Walters slim volume (62pp., 1959) attempts to show that Goethe's play,
hiller's 1788 review, and the latter's adaptation of 1796 were the products of the
o authors' personality types, personal interactions, and backgrounds. His arti-
: in the same year presents the same argument in abbreviated form, strongly
voured by biographical elements and the school of "Geistesgeschichte," with
irked condescension toward Schiller who is portrayed as incapable of under-
inding Goethe's sophisticated poetics and aesthetics, but fortunate to have
en at least exposed to them. Obviously foremost a Goethe disciple, Walter has
ithing good to say about Schiller's adaptation (339). Heinrich Henel (1963) pre-
nts a thorough overview of scholarship on the genesis of Egmont before his
m analysis of die play, but astonishingly Schiller's version is not included in
e process. He offers this excuse: "This modest enterprise, this piece of literary
:tective work, cannot contribute much to the understanding of the play, but I
>pe that it will contribute to its appreciation" (n). The distinction, for me, is
isive. Lesley Sharpe's thorough scholarly essay takes up the topic again (1982),
fering intense analysis of both Schiller's review of Goethe's Egmont and of the
ay itself, from the point of view of Schiller's own dramaturgy. Sigrid SiedhofFs
iblished Bonn dissertation Der Dramaturg Schiller. "Egmont". Goethes Text —
•killers Bearbeitung (1982.) is the most extensive work on die subject to date and
so covers ground common to my first two chapters. Unlike my study, however,
:r focus throughout is on Schiller's dramaturgy. The heart of this solid study is
detailed comparison of Schiller's and Goethe's versions, showing how their dif-
rences illuminate Schiller's version. There is also a useful overview of criticism
i the Goethe-Schiller-^gwow? triangle (29-35), though Siedhoff unfairly dis-
lisses Walter's 1959 study completely (33), and a chapter on reception in Goethe's
me. As part of her foundation, SiedhofF reviews the manuscript material
id earliest publication of Schiller's adapation, essentially condensing informa-
on already published in Borcherdt's volume xm of the Schiller Nationalaus-
ibe, but she makes no mention of the Mannheim manuscript which is my
asis.
NOTES ON METHODOLOGY
lany scholars, theatre semioticians, performance analysts, sociologists, and an-

iropologists, who have written little or nothing on Goethe or Egmont, have
sntributed greatly to my approach.3 As was the case with the Egmont literature,
ic direct points of contact between my analysis and their work are recognized
'ithin my argument, but such occcasional acknowledgement is insufficient.
17 Introduction
The gradual shift in approach I experienced while reading these theorists cannot
be reduced to specific borrowings, but is rather the cumulative result of my ex-
posure to them. This summary of their approaches may thus be of interest. My
methodology is dependent upon several theoretical and interpretive schools,
among them the semiology of theatre. Tadeusz Kowzan's separation of theatrical
sign systems into thirteen groups in "Le signe au theatre" (1968) is fundamental
to my understanding of this approach, as it has been for many theatre semioti-
cians after him. His agreement with the founders of semiotics and semiology,
Ferdinand de Saussure and Charles Peirce, that "Tout est signe dans la represen-
tation theatrale," and that the concept "signe" must be divided into "signiflant"
(in English signifier, the form of the sign) and "signifie"' (in English signified or
referent, the reality corresponding to the sign) remains basic for our under-
standing (64-7). Not so his agreement with Saussure that signs should be
divided into "signes naturels" (causal signs, as smoke and fire) and "signes artifi-
ciels" (voluntary signs, as the crown referring to royalty; 67), the distinction
having been rejected by later critics such as Patrice Pavis, with whom I agree.
The argument for excluding natural signs from theatre semiology is based on
the logical notion that all theatre differs from life and is artificial, but as we will
see in Goethe's "acting" on stage, as director, and in society, the realms can over-
lap. Kowzan grouped theatrical sign systems into clusters around spoken text,
mime, gestures, sets, and sound effects, all of which play a part in my analysis,
but he omitted from his clusters one of the potentially most important dimen-
sions of theatre semiology, the social milieu beyond the text and its perfor-
mance, which I do include.
Patrice Pavis's extensive work on theatre semiology has contributed much to
the modern commitment of many scholars to performance analysis as opposed
to purely textual criticism of dramatic works. A crucial point for him is "no
longer whether 'textual semiology (is) opposed to performance semiology,' but
whether a text can be analyzed semiotically before (without) the performance
during which the text is enunciated. Are we not in fact engaged in performance
semiology when we reflect on the text's 'situation of enunciation,' and, in conse-
quence, on the mise en scene" (29)? My answer is "yes." But Pavis's rhetorical
question reminds me to look at texts sceptically and to go beyond them to in-
clude Kowzan's (and others') extratextual signs, in other words to strike a com-
promise between text and performance. Pavis shows that by doing this we can
fruitfully extend our analytical method from simply enunciating text to search-
ing for units of meaning in the process of stage symbolization. Instead of treat-
ing the text alone as an icon (a representative, symbolic object) to be decoded,
many aspects of performance can also be treated iconologically to reveal broader
possibilities of codification and insight. The extreme of Pavis's argument deni-
grates the fixed text in favour of the ephemeral actuality of performance, an
extreme that has led some modern performance analysts to claim that any
consciously repeated action is theatre: sport, social dance, the conventions of
I8 Images of Goethe through Schiller's Egmont
courting in everyday life, even brushing one's teeth before the mirror. There is
some merit in this argument, but its lack of insistence on a textual basis, at least
as a starting point for performance variation, is a weakness, as is its ignorance of
aesthetics as a measure of theatrical significance. Despite my scepticism about
the absolute primacy of text and my appreciation of extra textual semiological el-
ements for performance analysis, I shall argue that text and aesthetics (Goethe's
concept as director) are fundamentally important for our understanding of his
theatre.
Erika Fischer-Lichte has led the way in suggesting methodological ap-
proaches for modern scholars interested in German theatre, although her scope
is much broader, as indicated in the standard Semiotik des Theaters. These writ-
ings link broad European and North American theatre semiological theory to
German examples, especially the so-called classical writers such as Goethe.
Her article, "The performance as 'interpretant' of the drama," (1987) also pro-
vides a valuable evaluation and extension of Kowzan and Pavis. After acknowl-
edging with her predecessors the necessity of differentiating between two
semiotic systems, written language (text, script) and theatre language (spoken
language, non-verbal signs), her main concern becomes "the conditions that
make it possible to transform the text of a written language into a performance"
(199). While believing that verbal signs of the drama can be transformed into
theatrical signs, she is left with the problem of isolating the general condition of
transformation, or how exactly the verbal signs (text, script) should be mani-
fested. To answer that, Fischer-Lichte reverts to what she considers an even
more basic level than dramatic dialogue, that of character (203). When trans-
forming a text/script into performance the process must begin with a reading of
the drama and end with three possible modes of transformation: linear, which
usually follows the order of the verbal signs in the dramatic text; structural,
which proceeds from more complex cohesive elements of the literary text such
as character, action, space, and scene; and global, which derives from the mean-
ing of the written play as a whole (204—7). Two points are important here for
my attempt to understand Goethe. First, Fischer-Lichte starts with text. Sec-
ondly, the three modes of transformation offer different, but by no means mu-
tually exclusive, avenues for investigation. When we look at Goethe's theatre, we
will be entering all three modes, and clearly, as we move from linear to global
transformation, we will become increasingly less dependent on text and more
open to adaptation. But I question Fischer-Lichte's further point that "on
Goethe's Weimarian stage ... the linear transformation was the dominating
tendency. Since Goethe held the language of the dialogues to be the most im-
portant part of the performance, he explained each sentence, telling the actor
what to stress, when to raise the voice, and where to pause. His attention was fo-
cussed mainly on the sequence of the characters' speeches" (207). While there is
no doubt that Goethe placed great emphasis on the language of dialogues, as re-
ported mainly by his actors themselves, other evidence, such as his "Regeln fur
19 Introduction
Schauspieler" and his admiration for great actors such as Iffland and Pius Alex-
ander Wolff, or his intense involvement in set design, speak against the isolation
of dialogue and linear transformation as the dominant mode. Moreover, Fischer-
Lichte's point here is highly restrictive, applying only to the Weimar stage under
Goethe's direction, and even then, what script or text exactly is meant? Every
one of his works has a multiple text base, and as the example of Egmont will
show, even the critically accepted texts known to scholars remain incomplete
and often fail to include manuscripts, prompters emendations, and perfor-
mances of Goethe's works on stages other than Weimar. Consideration of
Goethe's theatre must have a foot in Weimar, but only one. The other must be
planted in various places and at various times, those contemporary to Goedie
and our own.
The cluster of attributes omitted by Kowzan is the focus of sociosemioticians
such as Jean Alter, whose work (1990) helps us to link the stage with its audi-
ence. Semiologists have long been using the word code as the key to establishing
and understanding the relationship between signifier and signified, the two es-
sential elements of the theatrical sign. Through coding we can think of systems
of signs which operate within specific frameworks, themselves related to theatri-
cal, cultural, and social traditions. Kowzan's "signifie" (signified or referent) is
understandable within terms of a specific code, and differently within terms of
other codes by individuals who act as interpreters of the signs within the codes,
or as interpretants, to use a term common in semiological analysis. More than
one code can apply if performance occurs more than once, since production,
time, and place all change, and even within the same performance, for individ-
ual interpretants and groupings of them operate by different codes. Alter dis-
cusses this as the necessarily imperfect communication between sender and
receiver of the referent (27). Imagine, for example the reaction of children ver-
sus adults to either scatological or sexual humour or gestures. We are also re-
minded that "not all systems of signs are equally suited to convey all referents.
Natural language, for example, excels in communicating abstract concepts but
not physical appearance; pictures, in contrast, show appearances with great effi-
ciency but deal poorly with ideas. In theory, using many systems of signs, the-
atre could be expected to be able to handle almost any imaginable referents. In
practice, however, because it favours actors as its signs, theatre mainly focuses
on concrete people: their actions, feelings, problems. It has more trouble com-
municating abstract notions, although it often attempts to do so with verbal
signs" (26). I am not sure that Alters concerns about the imperfection of com-
munication between sender and interpretant, or about the theatres focus on
concrete people should be shared. It is not mandatory that the intended referent
of the playwright, actor, or director be understood within the same code by the
interpretant, although if the sender understands the audience it likely will be,
and for some cohesion of reception it must be. But if it is understood differ-
ently, the performance can nevertheless be successful from the perspective of the
lo Images of Goethe through Schiller's Egmont
audience. Furthermore, it is through theatre's focus on concrete people that

abstract notions can be approached as well. Most important is Alters further
assertion that multiple understandings of referents, or "semiotic malaise," is ev-
idence of unconscious social differences or tensions (29) and that the central
purpose of sociosemiotics is to show these. I would extend this notion to a con-
sideration of Goethe's theatre and apply it not only to his own time but also to
our own.
Alter makes a clear distinction between icons and symbols, the former resem-
bling the material form of the referent (the degree of iconicity being determined
by the extent of resemblance), the latter having no perceptible resemblance with
the referent (27), and he calls theatre "the most iconic of mediums" (28), since
the actors stand for real characters and their dialogue for exactly what those
characters say. This seems to stretch the point, for is a realistic painting or sculp-
ture not just as or even more iconic? There is a fundamental difference between
iconic and symbolic signs, as Alter notes, the former resembling the material
form of the referent, the latter not, the degree of resemblance being the factor
which determines more or less iconicity. I stress this distinction, since it will be
important for approaching Goethe's theatre. Discussion of the word icon
stretches over several chapters in my study, and the word will be applied to a
number of physical depictions in Egmont, to its protagonist, and to its author.
Alter further focuses on the difference between referential functions in com-
munication, i.e., signs that aim at imparting information and suggesting relation-
ships, and performant functions, i.e., communication that simply satisfies our
natural desire to achieve or witness something extraordinary (32). At the heart of
this differentiation lies the Horatian "prodesse et delectare" in art - in terms of
the present study: to what end do playwrights, directors, actors, and audiences
create, produce, and witness theatre? Sociosemiologists point to the competing
sides of homo sapiens and homo ludens, the former akin to the referentially-tuned
theatre-goer, the latter to the theatre-goer interested primarily in gratuitous be-
haviour according to arbitrary rules, which amuses but has no direct effect on the
viewers' life (39). Embedded within the concepts of referential and nonreferential
(ludic) performance is the notion of social ritual, those minidramas we all act out
in real life, be it in front of the bathroom mirror or at the altar, both of which
may contain referential and ludic elements and can be imitated on stage (47). In
the case of Goedie's theatre, the concept of social ritual is especially important
since the context of its creation sealed every hint of elemental intercourse below a
crust of social ritual. Only by poking holes in this surface can the steam escape.
The Horatian balance between referential performance for homo sapiens and pure
entertainment for homo ludens must be measured first from the perspective of
Goethe's theory and practice and from that of his actors, his audiences, and then
from the perspective of modern adapters, directors, and audiences.
Much can be gained by looking at investigations of social dynamics from a
theatrical point of view, rather than the reverse. Elizabeth Burns's categorization
2i Introduction
of life in terms of theatre is an extremely useful study (1972). A. Paul Hare and
David Blumberg (1988) have provided an instructive compilation of leading so-
cial scientists' thinking on this question since the fifties. Their chapter, "Presen-
tation of the Self," draws parallels between a staged theatre production in which
an actor who, to be effective, calls on personal experience, and individuals in ev-
eryday life who feel called upon to present an image of the self in daily social in-
tercourse (27). Guru Erving Goffmann suggested that all persons involved in
social interaction are primarily trying to save face in the social context, there
being two types of such "face work," avoidance processes (the use of go-betweens
or third parties to avoid actions or situations that would be inconsistent with
the desired "face") and corrective processes (which minimize the effects of un-
desired social interactions that have nevertheless occurred). It does not take a
great deal of imagination to apply both of these processes to social interaction
on the stage. Also transferable are the socioscientific concepts of "monodrama"
and "altercasting." In monodrama a person tries to change the way in which he
or she is seen. In altercasting, a person induces others to play preferred auxiliary
roles. Connections with Egmont's personality and Klarchen's role at the end of
the play are obvious. Such thinking is also relevant for Goethe whose multiple
functions as actor, writer, civil servant, intendant, scientist, and private citizen
added up to an unusually wide personal repertoire.
Theatre anthropologists, such as Richard Schechner (1985), offer an intrigu-
ing perspective on life and the stage, the kind of scholarship that is both enter-
taining to read and intellectually revealing. In Between Theater and Anthropology
Schechner joins avant-garde theatre practitioners, such as Peter Brook and Eu-
genio Barba, in posing a fundamental question about the transcultural potential
of theatrical activity: to what extent does any performance (staged or not so) re-
flect or touch deep human experience in all cultures (27-9)? This is a useful
question in the case of Goethe, for on the one hand his theatre is firmly lodged
in his society, time, aesthetics, and ethic; on the other hand, he is often called a
universal poet. Moreover, for Schechner and his ilk, the issue of the comparabil-
ity of staged theatre and everyday theatre action is central. "What then formally
separates acting in the strictly theatrical sense from behaving in the ordinary
sense?" he asks, and responds (here engaged in a bit of role playing or corrective
processing himself): "From Goffman's point of view ... nothing. The theatrical
event is theater only because it is framed as theater, presented as theater, re-
ceived as theater. Just as the message 'this is play' identifies play behaviour, so
the message 'this is theater' identifies theatrical behaviour" (311). Inside either,
every kind of behaviour is possible and is indeed presented. This is a challeng-
ing notion indeed and may be instructive when applied to Goethe's stage. (Even
readers who see little merit in theatre anthropology must read Schechner's chap-
ter on "News, Sex, and Performance Theory" which describes the exploits of
Belle de Jour, though I can take no responsibility for the consequences.)
Schechner's thoughts are not unlike those expressed by Jarno to Goethe's young
Wilhelm Meister: "Wissen Sie denn, mein Freund, ... daB Sie nicht das The-
ater, sondern die Welt beschrieben haben, und daB ich Ihnen aus alien Standen
genug Figuren und Handlungen zu Ihren harten Pinselstrichen finden wollte?
Verzeihen Sie mir, ich muB wieder lachen, daB Sie glaubten, diese schonen
Qualitaten seien nur auf die Breter gebannt" (WA i, 2.3, 25); or Therese's recol-
lections of her differentiation between actor and person in experiencing theatre
life in her family: "Ich kann Ihnen gar nicht sagen, wie lacherlich mir es
vorkam, wenn die Menschen, die ich alle recht gut kannte, sich verldeidet hat-
ten, da droben standen und fur etwas anders, als sie waren, gehalten sein
wollten. Ich sah immer nur meine Mutter und Lydien, diesen Baron und jenen
Sekretar, sie mochten nun als Fiirsten und Grafen oder als Bauern erscheinen,
und ich konnte nicht begreifen, wie sie mir zumuthen wollten zu glauben, dafi
es ihnen wohl oder wehe sei, daB sie verliebt oder gleichgiiltig, geizig oder
freigebig seien, da ich doch meist von dem Gegentheile genau unterrichtet war"
(47—8). In chapters 7 and 8 the interplay between Goethe the actor on the stage
of the private theatre and the audience that watched will show that they, too,
had difficulty in distinguishing between the stage character and the person who
played it.
Figure i
Egmont, Mannheim Manuscript,

p. 177, from Borcherdt, Schillers
Werke, Nationalausgabe, xin, i,
290. See p. 27.
Figure 2
Egmont, Stadtisches Rei6-

Museum Mannheim, Manuscript
M372, p. 177.
See p. 27.
I Egmont as Text:
Scholarly Documentation
EDITIONS OF EGMONT
A number of scholarly editions of the play provide the foundation for our under-
standing of it. Primary among these is Egmont. Ein Tmuerspiel in fiinf Aufzugen
in the Weimareror Sophien-Ausgabe, I, 8 (1889), 171-305, edited by Jacob Minor
and Bernhard Suphan (hereafter WA). Like most of the works in the WA, this ver-
sion corresponds to that in Goethe's Werke. VollstdndigeAusga.be letzter Hand, vin
(Stuttgart, Tubingen: Cotta, 1828), 175-315. In the appendix (340-64) Minor lists
the earlier editions: eight from Goschen in Leipzig between 1788 and 1803, and
four from Cotta in Stuttgart/Tubingen between 1807 and 1828, the last of which
serves as the basis for the WA printing; two extant manuscripts, one in Goethe's
hand, the other a copy by Christian Georg Karl Vogel (1760—1819) with correc-
tions by Johann Gottfried Herder (1744-1803) and an unknown hand; and the
variants contained in editions and manuscripts alike. Although the variants num-
ber in the hundreds, which is normal for a textual comparison of the period, they
are in sum trivial, or at best, in a very few cases, minor. In other words, the tex-
tual legacy of Goethe's Egmont up to the point of the "Ausgabe letzter Hand" is
unusually straightforward and clear.
After listing the editions of Egmont, Minor adds: "Die Schillersche Biihnen-
bearbeitung des Egmont, ein unverachtliches Snick in jeder kritischen Ausgabe
von Schillers Werken, hat in den Werken Goethes nicht ihren Platz" (343). His
confidence that the adaptation has no place in an edition of Goethe's works is
based, apparently, on its impurity. The same decision has been taken generally
by Minor's successors, the editors of Egmont within subsequent major editions
of Goethe's works: Eduard von der Hellen and Franz Muncker in the Jubiltiums-
25 Egmont as Text
ausgabe (1902-12); Robert Petsch in the Festausgabe (1926-7); Erich Trunz and
Wolfgang Kayser in the Hamburger Ausga.be (1953); Ernst Beutler and Kurt May
in the Gedenkausgabe (1948-60); Regine Otto et al in the Berliner Ausgabe
(1960-74); and most recently Norbert Miller and Hartmut Reinhardt in the
Munchner and Dieter Borchmeyer in the Frankfurter Ausgabe (1985-8). None
of these includes Schiller's adaptation. If their editorial judgment is sound, then
why is the work routinely included in Schiller's collected works of similar stat-
ure (e.g. the National- and Hanserausgaben), for there is no doubt that more of
it was written by Goethe than by him? The well known cooperation between
Goethe and Schiller on the adaptation, and its importance for the performance
history of Egmont, call Minors judgement and that of subsequent editors of
Egmont into question.
Of the major editions of Goethe's works that appeared after the WA, I shall
restrict my comments here to the Hamburger (hereafter HA), the Frankfurter
(FA), and the Munchner Ausgabe (MA), besides the WA the most frequently
cited by modern scholars. Egmont, originally critically edited by Wolfgang Kayser,
appears in Volume iv of the Hamburger Ausgabe (nth ed. 1982, 370-454, Ed.
Erich Trunz). In the afterword (596—617), the editors provide a precis of the
genesis of the work, an account of Goethe's historical sources and his adaptation
of them, a twelve-page analysis of structure and themes, a cursory note on per-
formance history, and a statement of sources which parallels that in the WA.
While the editors of the HA chose the first edition of Egmont for their text base
as opposed to the Ausgabe letzter Hand used for the WA, the differences are in-
significant. The brief note on performance history deals mainly with Schiller's
adaptation, but in a decidedly derogatory tone - "Die Struktur und vor allem
die dichterische Schonheit des Dramas war damit zerstort" (611) - an aesthetic
condemnation understandable for a scholar writing in 1953 when the edition
first appeared, but less so by the time of its revision in 1982.
For his edition of Egmont in the FA Dieter Borchmeyer uses the 1788 edition
of Goethe's play (Leipzig: Goschen), yet only indirectly via its printing in the
Berliner Akademie-Ausgabe of 1957, "der erste zuverlassige Abdruck der Hand-
schrift" (1234). While it is somewhat surprising that an edition of such magni-
tude as the FA would base its text on that of another edition instead of on the
manuscript itself, one cannot quarrel with its adherence to the 1788 version. In
his brief comments on Schiller's adaptation (1256-7), Borchmeyer recognizes its
crucial importance for the success of Egmont on stage, yet generally gives its per-
formance history short shrift.
Norbert Miller and Hartmut Reinhardt in die MA have provided an exemplary
text and notes to which all modern scholars must refer. In such an edition it is im-
possible not to re-tread familiar ground, yet at the same time, in their extensive re-
view of the genesis of the play, its historical background, form, themes, and
reception, these editors show evidence of fresh research and insight. A facsimile re-
production of Goethe's manuscript of 1787 (see WA I, 8, 343-45: H1), which they
insist must be seen as authoritative (863), serves as their source. In discussing the
history of the reception of Egmont, Miller and Reinhardt pay some attention to
Schiller's adaptation, including an acknowledgement that it triggered the play's
success in performance, but also this general appraisal: "es fehlt der Sinn fur das
Schicksalsglaubige, das Damonisch-Genialische des Charakters, aber auch fur die
Symbiose von Wort und Musik, von poetischen und 'opernhafteri Elementen, die
Goethe anvisiert" (83If). While these editors do not follow the path of those who
can only decry Schiller's adaptation as an aesthetic distortion, they nevertheless
betray a conviction that adaptations somehow should represent all that the origi-
nal contained. What is an adaptation if not an alteration of the original for a dif-
ferent purpose, in this case for effectiveness on stage? Had Schiller captured all
that Goethe's original offered, and in similar ways, he would scarcely have pro-
duced an adaptation at all and would have contributed to the continuing failure
of Egmont in dieatres instead of its fair success.
Schiller's adaptation of Egmont was based on the first edition (Leipzig:
Goschen, 1788) and is included in Volume xIII of his Werke, Nationalausgabe,
edited by Hans Heinrich Borcherdt (Weimar: Bohlau 1949), 1-72, with notes ap-
pended. Borcherdt presents both Goethe's original Egmont and Schiller's adapta-
tion, as well as adjustments at several stages, interlacing the two through the use
of various typefaces and sizes (system described on 335). The printing, definitive
for modern scholarship, takes account of the relationship between Goethe and
Schiller and also of the contemporary events which brought about the adapta-
tion. The following statement by Borcherdt makes clear his assessment of the im-
portance of the collaboration, and can at the same time be taken as one rationale
for my anchoring of the present study in this play: "Es gibt kein besseres Muster-
beispiel, um den Unterschied zwischen Lesedrama und Biihnenstuck zu veran-
schaulichen, als die Gegeniiberstellung von Goethes Dichtung und Schillers
Theaterbearbeitung" (306).
My reasons for choosing Egmont as a focus go further, however. They begin
with an inspection of Borcherdt's generally excellent account of his manuscript
sources, which include (322, 326-33):
- the 1788 printing of Goethe's Egmont, on which Schiller made initial notes
for the adaptation;
- a handwritten copy of this annotated version by the copyist Wilhelm Schu-

mann, corrected by Schiller, produced in 1796 (designated by Borcherdt as h1),
which served as the source for Borcherdt's printing;
- a handwritten copy of this copy, which presumably contained further correc-

tions by Schiller and also presumably served as the director's and prompter's
copy for die premiere, but which has been lost, presumably burned in the
Weimar theatre fire of 1825;
27 Egmont as Text
- the so-called "Mannheimer Theatermanuskript," call number M372 in the

Mannheim Schlofimuseum (designated by Borcherdt as h2), and apparently
identical to the manuscript I have consulted in the Mannheim ReiB-Museum
and used as the starting point for my study;
- a manuscript in Goethe's papers, now in the Weimar archives (designated

by Borcherdt as h3), the work of the scribe John,1 which takes account of the
"Schillerschen Bearbeitung von 1796 mit all den Zusatzen, die sich auch aus der
Mannheimer Handschrift im verlorenen Weimarer Dirigierbuch erschlieBen
lassen" (331);
- a manuscript which served as a director's book for the Weimar theatre, also in
the Weimar archives (Staatstheater Nr 236), which has as its base Goethe's origi-
nal five-act version, but also takes into account some of Schiller's changes (des-
ignated by Borcherdt as h4);
- finally, a manuscript located in the Stadt-und Universitatsbibliodiek, Frank-

furt (Nr 356) which is "unzweifelhaft eine Abschrift der Mannheimer Theater-
handschrift h2, nur mit dem Unterschied, daB dortige spatere Regiestriche hier
beriicksichtigt und dadurch weitere Kiirzungen vorgenommen wurden [major
deletions then listed]" (designated by Borcherdt as h5).2
As part of his appended materials, Borcherdt supplies a complete list of vari-

ants between all of the manuscripts and h1 (335-47). These show that he did
indeed have before him (among others) the Mannheim manuscript M372 (h2),
the text of which I hereafter offer transcribed in full. But we must be careful
with his list of emendations, for it is incomplete. An astonishing example is his
omission of the variant "mit schwarzen Manteln" (manuscript, 265, Borcherdt,
346) at the beginning of the crucial scene of Egmont's sentencing. Borcherdt in-
cludes a facsimile photograph of page 177 of h1 (289) which causes further
alarm. Page 177, a portion of II, 10 when Richard interrupts Egmont and
Klarchen to bring warning, is an almost clean page in Borcherdt's photograph,
the only mark beyond the text itself being a line deleting a Klarchen speech (see
Figure I, p. 23): The Mannheim manuscript as it exists today carries not just
that deletion, but also a line deleting the whole page, a deletion which in its en-
tirety runs from p. 174 to 181, in other words all of II, 10 and II; furthermore, a
second line deleting Klarchen's speech once again; and finally, a parenthetical
mark in the left margin beside that speech (see Figure 2, p. 23): It would seem
from this that the Mannheim manuscript did not bear these marks when
Borcherdt had it photographed for his edition - or did he use a photograph
from a previous source? My inquiry to the director of the Mannheim theatre
collection, Liselotte Homering, about this discrepancy was met initially with a
surprised "unmoglich!"; but when a comparison of Borcherdt's picture with
page 177 of the original manuscript demonstrated that it was not only possible
but indeed the case, Frau Homering generously worked out a logical explana-
tion. Pictures of this and other manuscripts had been taken while the collection
was in the Mannheim SchloEmuseum from 1926 until 1943, at which time most
were lost when the museum went up in flames. Borcherdt's picture must have
been taken from the SchloBmuseum photos, the markings he did not see were
added to the manuscript after 1926.'
Borcherdt's treatment of auxiliary markings on the Mannheim manuscript
indicates that he saw glosses relating to performance as relatively unimportant.
He does list the deletions on the manuscript separately, but even this list is inad-
equate, including major deletions only, giving no indication of the conflicting
marks of this type within the manuscript, and omitting the many staging anno-
tations entirely. As shown in the footnotes to the text in chapter 2, the pattern
of deletions, additions, and staging annotations is much more complicated than
can be incorporated into a simple list. What these extratextual annotations tell
us about the production and reception of the play in Mannheim at various
times is important.
Borcherdt describes in some detail the original portion of the Mannheim
manuscript h2 (the basic text, exclusive of annotations), noting a number of am-
plifications on Schiller's stage directions (as recorded in h1), the fact that it alone
among the manuscripts reintroduces the songs deleted by Schiller, and some
changes of content as well, all of which underscore the "Eigenmachtigkeit der
Mannheimer Regie" (328f). He further includes in his list of sources an account
of the previous publication of all manuscripts consulted (1-5), and in the case of
the Mannheim manuscript h2 claims that it was published in its entirety for the
first time by A[rnold] Schloenbach in the Bibliothek der deutschen Klassiker, 10.
Bd. Hildburghausen, 1862 - "vermutlich nach einer anderen, inzwischen ver-
lorengegangenen Mannheimer Vorlage" (327) .4 Schloenbach's publication was
then supposedly reprinted by Conrad Hofer in Schillers Werken, ed. Otto Giint-
ter and Georg Witkowski (Leipzig: Hesse 1910/11), XII, 327, 334, 361, along with
a list of the variants between it and h1. Borcherdt reproduces Hofer's variants for
EGMONT. mit dem Fufie stampfend170 Keine Rettung! - Siifses Leben! schone,mit dem Fufie stampfend170 Keine Re- EGMONT. mit dem Fufie stampfend170 Keine Rettung! - Siifses Leben! schone,Siifses Leben! schone,
inspecting these printings, Borcherdt writes that, although Hofer claimed
Schloenbach's publication to represent an accurate transcription of the manu-
script, he himself found ("es wurde festgestellt") 78 variants, admittedly not of
great textual importance, but unacknowleged variants nevertheless, and hence
troubling to any future reader.6 Moreover, Borcherdt notes that these variants
are related to several sources, including the original Weimar manuscript (h1), al-
terations within the Mannheim manuscript itself (h2), Goethe's original version,
and a further seventeen whose sources he cannot trace (334). Somewhat surpris-
ingly, he concludes, "Es muB also angenommen werden, daB Schloenbach eine
andere Mannheimer Handschrift vorgelegen hat, zumal er im 'Dresdner Schil-
lerbuch' (1860) berichtet, daB? darin die von Schiller eingefugten Szenen 11,10-11
29 Egmont asText
verklebt gewesen seien, wovon sich in h2 keine Spur findet. In der Tat ist nach
Walters Katalog der Mannheimer Theaterhandschriften a.a.O. 8.126 eine Eg-
monthandschrift verlorengegangen. Dieses verlorene Manuskript stand h1
naher, ist also die urspriingliche Fassung der Mannheimer Bearbeitung gewesen,
aus der dann h2 abschriftlich als Dirigier- oder Souffleurbuch entstanden ist"
(334)7 We can add to this a previous statement by Borcherdt about the relation-
ship between h2 and the other extant manuscripts: "Diese Ubereinstimmungen
zeigen deutlich, daB ein verlorenes Dirigierbuch von 1796 anzunehmmen ist,
das 1800 nach Berlin und 1804 oder 1806 nach Mannheim, vielleicht aber auch
nach Leipzig und anderen Orten, an denen die dreiaktige Fassung gespielt
wurde, ausgeliehen wurde. Nur die Mannheimer Handschrift ist davon erhalten
geblieben" (329). This manuscript is thus crucial for the early history of perfor-
mances of the play.
Borcherdt makes a further statement about h3, the Weimar manuscript by
scribe John, claiming that it takes account of the "Schillerschen Bearbeitung
von 1796 mit all den Zusatzen, die sich auch aus der Mannheimer Handschrift
im verlorenen Weimarer Dirigierbuch erschlieBen lassen" (331). This is a strange
claim indeed, for it seems to assume not just that h3 is based on the Schiller ver-
sion of 1796 and the Mannheim manuscript, but that the lost Weimar director's
manuscript took account of the Mannheim manuscript as well, the exact nature
of which is itself in doubt. This claim Borcherdt does not and cannot prove. If
he is right, then the Mannheim manuscript clearly had a direct influence on
how Egmont Was performed and understood in Weimar (and in posterity for the
most part), and it thus gains greatly in importance. If he is wrong, then the
record needs to be set straight, for the Mannheim manuscript represents a
different strand in Goethe/Schiller reception and understanding.8 In fairness,
Borcherdt himself alerts us to some weaknesses in his reconstruction of the
chronology and interdependence of these sources (327), particularly the date
of its production: "Auch das Entstehungsjahr von h2 ist keineswegs absolut
gesichert. Seit Schloenbach wird immer wieder angenommen, daB die Hand-
schrift fur eine am 26.20.1804 erfolgte Auffuhrung in Mannheim bestimmt
gewesen sei. Nach Walter II S. 126 hat aber diese Auffuhrung erst 1806 stattge-
funden. Es muB also mit der Moglichkeit gerechnet werden, daB die Hand-
schrift erst nach Schillers Tode hergestellt wurde" (327). This is indeed the case
in Walter; moreover, the manuscript's title page bears (in a later hand) the nota-
tion "Premiere 26.12.1806. "9
I have also examined Hofer's reprint of Schloenbach in Schiller's Sdmtliche
Werke (Leipzig: Hesse, [1910]), xII, 7-98. It includes a good introduction, de-
scribing the genesis of Schiller's adaptation and its early performance history.
Most of this information is taken over and embellished by Borcherdt in his
commentary. The variants between the Mannheim manuscript and h1, as well
as Goethe's original, are displayed by Hofer concurrently throughout by the
use of various type faces (as Borcherdt himself, and later Gopfert did), and he
3O Images of Goethe through Schiller's Egmont
surveys the main ones in his introduction (14-16), referring us to Koster's

Schiller als Dramaturg (Berlin, 1891) for a fuller account. Hofer provides evi-
dence that the manuscript he prints was the one used for the first performance
in Mannheim in 1804 (16), yet we know that this date itself must be called into
question, and hence also his claim here. In his discussion of the various manu-
scripts in use around 1800, Hofer makes no mention of the fact that there were
two Mannheim manuscripts, not just one. Also troubling is the noticeable dif-
ference between the order of the dramatic personae in his reprint and that in
the Mannheim manuscript, to which he himself draws attention, explaining
both this and other differences with: "Wir glaubten also der urspriinglichen
Absicht des Dichters naher zu kommen, wenn wir die fraglichen Partien, die
der Mannheimer Handschrift fehlen, aus dem Weimarischen Manuskript ein-
fiigen wiirden" (20). In fairness, these appear in a different typeface, but the
statement, combined with Borcherdt's discovery of many unacknowledged dif-
ferences and Hofer's failure to mention the second, lost Mannheim manu-
script, leave doubts about the reliability of his work. He also makes only
fleeting reference to the deletions in the manuscript and none at all to textual
emendations entered later. Sigrid SiedhofPs Der Dramaturg Schiller (1982) also
makes no reference to the fact that there were two Mannheim manuscripts
stemming from the first six years of the nineteenth century, not just one (27-8,
241-2).
Friedrich Walter's description of the Mannheim manuscript, certainly the de-
finitive source for materials from the Mannheim theatre archive, is preceded by
this statement: "Ein zweites Mskr. M663 fehlt." He makes no comment on its
nature, chronology, or relationship to the extant one h2. This information is not
sufficient to allow Borcherdt's conclusion that the lost manuscript "die ur-
spriingliche Fassung der Mannheimer Bearbeitung gewesen ist, aus der dann h1
abschriftlich als Dirigier- oder Souffleurbuch entstanden ist." Its call number
M663 alone suggests that it was a later product than the one we have, M372.
Moreover, Walter makes no mention whatsoever of any extratextual markings,
not even that they exist. It is extremely unlikely that none of them was there
when he published his catalogue (1899), and hence their omission is a sign that
he held such hints about performance to be unimportant, as apparently did
Borcherdt. Strictly speaking, the lost Mannheim manuscript M663 should be
designated as hlb, the extant one M372 hla.
When it comes to the actual text of the play, there are thousands of small dif-
ferences between the Mannheim manuscript M372 (h2) and Schiller's adapta-
tion as published by Borcherdt from h1, in orthography, punctuation, word
selection, word order, text, and the order of scenes. Borcherdt includes these
among his full account of variants (335-347), but restricts himself to the dra-
matic text itself, ignoring dozens of extratextual markings. Here is a sampling
from the first scene only (I have used the abbreviations S for Schiller with page
reference to Borcherdt's printing, M for the manuscript beside its pagination).
31 Egmont as Text
Act I, Scene i
s: 3,13 ... undspannt die Armbrust

M : 5 ... im Begriff, die Armbrust zu nehmen
s: 3, 19 dafiir auch
M : 6 auch dafiir
s: 3, 23 so schon lange hier

M: 6 schon so lange hier
S: 5,16—17. <Order of speeches>

M : 16 <Slight variation>
s: 5, 44—6, I das Pfotchen reichen und Friede machen

M : 19 Friede machen
s: 6, 7 Margareten
M : 19 Margaretha von Parma
s: 6, II Die Regentin lebe!

M: 20 Sie lebe! Die Regentin lebe!
s: 7, 30-33 Den nicht zu vergessen! Das ist ein rechter Wall: wenn man nur an
ihn denkt, meint man gleich, man konne sich hinter ihn verstecken, und der
Teufel brachte einen nicht hervor. Hoch! Wilhelm von Oranien, hoch!
M: 26 Den nicht zu vergessen! <omission> Hoch! Wilhelm von Oranien, hoch!
s: 8, 30 Ordnung und Freiheit!

M: 31-2. Ordnung und Gewissens-Freyheit!
For the most part, such differences are insignificant. Among them, however, are
meaningful changes. The change from the stage direction "und spannt die Arm-
brusf (S: 3, 13) to " im Begriff, die Armbrust zu nehmen' (M: 5) shows that the
manuscript copyist made changes to his primary source. The lengthy omission
from S: 7, 30-33 suggests either a copyists error or a deliberate omission, in
either case with the result that the content of the manuscript is changed signifi-
cantly from Schiller. Finally, the change to S: 8, 30 is a deliberate and significant
scribal variant.
Borcherdt's work on Egmont in the Nationalausga.be was integrated by Ger-
hard Fricke and Herbert G. Gopfert into the third volume of the 1959 Hanser
Ausgabe of Schiller's Sdmtliche Werke and reprinted by Gopfert in Friedrich
Schiller. Biihnenbearbeitungen (Miinchen: dtv, 1966). Gopfert was cognizant of
the fallibility of his enterprise, making appropriate reference to the uncertainties

surrounding the various manuscripts, but his simplification distorts our view of
the records. For example, in the dtv edition he cites a mere handful of lexical
differences between the Mannheim manuscript and h1, specifically, that "das
Wort Treiheit' haufig in 'Geistesfreiheit' umgeandert wurde, wo Klarchen nicht
fur Egmonts Freiheit, sondern fur seine 'Befreiung' kampft und auch Egmont
selbst nicht fur die Freiheit, sondern fur das 'Vaterland' stirbt" (239). Contrary
to Gopfert, the word "Geistesfreiheit" (or its orthographic variants "Geistes-
freyheit" and "Geistesfreyheit") occurs not once in the Mannheim manuscript
M372. Furthermore, M372 contains the word "Befreiung" (or its orthographic
variants "Befreyung" and "Befreyung") only once, spoken by Klarchen to Soest,
Jetter, and Zimmermann in the final act with reference to the captured Egmont,
as she tries to rally their support (see below at the top of [232]); in Goethe and
Schiller Klarchen does indeed say "Freyheit." The word "Vaterland" occurs
seven times in the manuscript, five times in the early conversation between
Klarchen and Brackenburg (see ms. [141 top, 141 bottom, 146]) and twice in
Egmonts final soliloquy ([295, 297]). Five of the seven instances were the same
in Goedie and Schiller. On [146] Brackenburg's "Brutus' Rede fur die Freiheit"
(Goethe and Schiller versions) has been changed in the manuscript to "fur das
Vaterland!" and on [297] Egmont makes the change once, from "Furs Vaterland
starb ich" instead of "Fur die Freiheit". Further textual differences between the
Mannheim manuscript and h1, as recorded by Borcherdt, are much more exten-
sive than Gopfert's mention would lead the reader to suspect; moreover, he
completely ignores the extratextual markings. At no point does Gopfert identiiy
the Mannheim manuscript clearly in bibliographical terms, and the record of
visiting scholars in the correspondence of the theatre archive there shows no
sign of his presence. Gopfert's treatment of the Mannheim manuscript leaves
much to be desired.
Because of the uncertainties surrounding the Mannheim manuscript and
scholars' general disregard for the extratextual annotations it contains, the fol-
lowing chapter is a fresh transcription based on the manuscript as it exists today
in the theatre collection of the Mannheim ReiB-Museum. It is not intended as a
work of comparative editing, for this has been done well by Borcherdt as far as
the original scribal text is concerned. Rather, it reviews the accuracy of his work
and in addition takes into account all intra- and extratextual markings not at-
tributable to the original scribe. The Mannheim manuscript is presented there-
fore as a new primary text - more accurately, a new performance text - unique
in the history of Egmont reception.
In my analysis of Borcherdt, it was not my intention to denigrate his great
scholarly contribution. But times have changed. What was important in scholarly
editing in 1949 is not necessarily as important in 1998, when less attention is paid
to the content of the text and much more to its impact. At the same time, the
danger exists in modern sociohistorical literary analysis that we move too far from
33 Egmontas Text
the text, so that there is no longer a standard by which to measure change. Liter-
ary studies today have moved into new extratextual spheres, particularly into me-
dia studies, radio, television and film. The long-standing question of what
literature is, has become much more difficult, even impossible to answer. My
study attempts to come to grips with these new areas as they relate to Egmont, but
for this reason too, the anchoring of my study in a text, a fixed system of semiotic
signs on the page, is crucial, for the text remains a permanent point of reference
for understanding the multiplicity of variants produced through performance on
stage and screen. Schiller undertook his adaptation because Goethe's original was
a failure on stage, and to a great extent this was the result of structural, staging,
and production problems; hence, these were a primary focus for his adaptation.
The history of the performance and reception of Egmont in the following years
was determined much more by those questions of structure, staging, and produc-
tion, than by questions of text and themes. The Mannheim manuscript shows
not just a text in flux, but a staging and performance history in flux as well. It
thus brings the two crucial elements of dramatic history to our attention.
THE MANNHEIM MANUSCRIPT

STADTISCHES REIfi-MUSEUM M A N N H E I M , CALL
N U M B E R M 372
The manuscript consists of 150 trimmed leaves of good quality, hand-made pa-
per, folded once and stitched loosely at the spine in gatherings to produce one
blank and then 299 pages of written text. Pages measure 21 cm high and 17 cm
wide and from page 5 on are paginated alternately in the upper right and left
corner. (Pages 206-7 are erroneously paginated as 106-7 and l 222 as 223.) The
text area measures approximately 18 cm by 15 cm on each page, with margins on
all four sides of 2—3 cm. (Borcherdt identifies the format "in Quart" [327], and
while its page size is in conformity with quarto, the single fold makes it techni-
cally a folio volume produced from half sheets.) Clearly written, the manuscript
is obviously the product of a scribe, quite possibly J.D. Trinkle who served as
prompter and copyist in Mannheim at the time. The many marks indicating
deletions and rearrangements of the text, and the additions to the text and mar-
ginal annotations are in various hands and colours, from red or brown crayon to
pencil of varying shades. It appears that the coloured annotations are the oldest,
and the pencil annotations more recent. I am grateful to the theatre collection
of the ReiR-Museum Mannheim and its Director, Liselotte Homering, for per-
mission to publish it here in its entirety.
EDITORIAL PRINCIPLES
Titles, the names of the characters, and the stage directions, are all underlined
in the manuscript. They appear here in italics, except for the names of the
speaking characters, which are set in small caps. Parentheses around the stage di-
rections in the manuscript have been omitted. Minor corrections in punctuation,
capitalization, and orthography have been made without comment. The pagina-
tion of the original manuscript is indicated by arabic numerals in square brackets
throughout. Later handwritten additions to the text of the play appear in the text
itself in wavy brackets {...}, and illegible passages indicated, as far as possible, by
one dot for each missing letter. Most of the additions stem from Goethe's text,
but had been deleted by Schiller in his version; my footnotes draw attention to
this whenever the addition bears some significance. Pointed brackets <... > indi-
cate editorial interpolations or conjectures. The footnotes contain references to
the many deletions made in the text by hands later than that of the original
scribe, and all extratextual handwritten notations on the manuscript, including
the reordering of acts and scenes and instructions for performance and staging.
The word "deleted" in the footnotes refers to the word in the text immediately
preceding that footnote number, unless otherwise specified.
It is common throughout the manuscript that marginal notations indicating
the deletion of passages stand beside and in conflict with others indicating that
35 EgmontasTexi.
the passage should remain ("bleibt"). In many instances, even this notation
"bleibt" is itself struck out, and occasionally the word "weg" appears in the mar-
gin to indicate a deletion. Such contradictory notations reflect the work of more
than one correcting hand and time period. While it is clear from the notations
themselves, from the handwriting and the crayon or pencil colour and breadth,
that they stem from more than one hand or period, it is impossible to clarify
consistently which notations belong together, in odier words, to determine ex-
actly what text was or was not performed at a specific time. This serves to sup-
port one of the primary starting points of the present study, namely, that there is
in the end no such thing as a fixed text for dramatic works. In the following, be-
cause of the great frequency of such mutually contradictory marginal notations
on the manuscript, a superior b, indicating "bleibt," appears beside the word de-
leted to indicate this contradiction; and bd (bleibt and deleted) indicates that the
text has been struck out, "bleibt" later added, then this in turn also deleted.
There are also many instances in the manuscript in which shorter emendations
or deletions occur within longer ones; in most cases it is impossible to be certain
of their chronological order, but such cases are all recorded in the notes.
Here is a list and an explanation of abbreviations used in the editorial notes
of the following chapter. Further discussion of them can be found in chapter 3.
de: either the common editorial abbreviation for deleatur or the second half of
"vide" (see "vi=" below).
Verwandoi Verwandlung: a change in scene.
verwendoi verw: the speech indicated was probably to be moved elsewhere.
vi=: the first half of "vide," to be linked with ."=de" at a later point, the text be-
tween being evidently omitted. Variations include combinations such as =, =#,
and -page #.
Zugloi Zugleich, usually in pairs, and presumably indicating two actions occur-
ring concurrently.
Zusatzor Zstz: the optional use of a speech or scene.

2 Egmont
Ein Trauerspiel
in drey Aufziigen
Figure 3
Egmont, Stadtisches Reifi-Museum Mannheim, Mannheim Manuscript M3/2,

title page.
37 Egmont. Ein Trauerspielin drey Aufougen
[I]
EGMONT
EIN T R A U E R S P I E L IN DREY A U F Z U G E N 1
[2] blank
[3]
Personer?
Graf Egmont, Prinz von Gaure.

Wilhelm von Oranien.
Herzog von Alba.
Ferdinand, sein natiirlicher Sohn.
Richard, Egmonts Geheimschreiber.
silva.
unter Alba dienend.
Gomez. J
Clarchen, Egmonts Geliebte.
Ihre Mutter.
Brackenburg, ein Biirgersohn.
Soest, Kramer.
Jetter, Schn
Zimmermann. BUrger von BriisseL
Seifensieder.
Buyk, Soldat unter Egmont.
Ruysum, Invalide und taub.
Vansen, ein Schreiber.
Volck. Gefolge. Wachen.
[4] blank
[5] Actus I.
Freyer Platz vor der Stadt. Vorn eine Art von Tribune, mit Armbriisten, von der
ubers Theater weg in die Coulissen geschossen wird.
Scene I.
Soest. fetter. Ruysum. vorne auf der Btihne. Mehrere Soldaten. Burger und Biirger-
weiber, im Hintergrunde theils sitzend an Schenktischen, theils aufund abgehend
undsich unterredend.
fetter, auf den Stufen, im BegriffdieArmbrustzu nehmen.
[6] SOEST. Nun schieBt nur hin, daB? es alle wird! Ihr nehmt mir's doch nicht!
Drey Ringe schwarz, die habt Ihr eure Tage nicht geschossen, und so war' ich
fur dieses Jahr Meister.
JETTER. Meister und Konig dazu. Wer miBgonnts Euch? Ihr sollt' dafur die Ze-
che doppelt bezahlen; Ihr sollt eure Geschicklichkeit bezahlen. Wie's recht ist.
BUYK. herzutretend Jetter, den SchuB hand' ich Euch ab, teile den Gewinnst,
traktiere die Herren: ich bin schon so lange hier [7] und fur viele Hoflichkeit
Schuldner -. Fehle ich, so ist's, als wenn Ihr geschossen hattet.
Jetter tritt herunter, Buyk hinauf.
SOEST. Ich sollte drein reden: denn eigentlich verliere ich dabey. Doch, Buyk,
nur immerhin.
BUYK. schiefit. Nun, Pritschmeister, Reverenz! - Eins! Zwey! Drey! Viere!
Die im Hintergrund befindlichen Soldaten und Burger sind aufgestanden und

sehen unverwandt in die Coulissen nach dem Ziel.
[8] SOEST. Vier Ringe? Es sey! {Vivat!}3

{Alle} Alle.4 {Soest. nicht vor}
applaudiren Vivat, Herrr Konig, hoch! und abermahl hoch! {Alle Vivat...}5
BUYK. Danke, ihr Herren. Ware Meister zu viel! Danke fiir die Ehre.
JETTER. Die habt Ihr Euch selbst zu danken.
RUYSUM. ganz vorn am Theater: daB ich Euch sage! - herzutretend6
SOEST. laut: Wie ist's Alter?
[9] RUYSUM. DaB ich Euch sage! — Er schieBt wie sein Herr, er schieBt wie
Egmont.
BUYK. Gegen ihn bin ich nun ein armer Schlucker. Mit der Biichse trifft er erst
wie keiner in der Welt. Nicht etwa wenn er Gliick oder gute Laune hat, nein!
wie er anlegt, immer rein schwarz geschossen. Gelernt habe ich von ihm. Das
39 Egmont. Ein Trauerspiel in drey Aufziigen
ware auch ein Kerl, der bey ihm diente, und nichts von ihm lernte. - Nicht zu
vergessen, meine Herren! — Ein Konig nahrt seine Leute, und so auf des Konigs
Rechnung Wein [10] her! {Alle gehn zu den Tischen}
SOEST. Es ist unter uns ausgemacht, daB jeder -
BUYK. Ich bin fremd und Konig und achte eure Gesetze und Herkommen
nicht.
JETTER. Du bist ja arger als der Spanier; der hat sie uns doch bisher lassen mii-
Ben.
RUYSUM. Was?7
SOEST. laut Er will uns gastiren; er will nicht haben, daB wir zusammenlegen
und der Konig nur das Doppelte bezahlt.
[II] RUYSUM. LaBt ihn! doch ohne Prajuditz! das ist auch seines Herrn Art,
splendid zu seyn, und es laufen zu lassen, wo es gedeiht.
Einige Burger und Burgerweiber mit Wein
{Alle} ALLE. 8 [Soest.. .9} Ihre Majestat Wohl!10 Hoch!

JETTER. {Heil!11} zu Buyk: Versteht sich, Eure12 Majestat.
BUYK. Danke von Herzen, wenns doch so seyn soil.
SOEST. Wohl! denn unserer Spanischen Majestat [12] Gesundheit trinkt nicht
leicht ein Niederlander von Herzen.
RUYSUM. Wer?
SOEST. laut: Philipps des Zweyten, Konigs in Spanien.
RUYSUM. Unser allergnadigster Konig und Herr! Gott gebe ihm langes Leben!
SOEST. Hattet Ihr seinen Herrn Vater, Karl den Funften nicht lieber?
RUYSUM. Gott trost ihn! Das war ein Herr! Er [13] hatte die Hand iiber den
ganzen Erdboden, und war Euch alles in allem, und wenn er Euch begegnete, so
griiBte er Euch, wie ein Nachbar den anderen; und wann Ihr erschrocken war't,
wuBte er mit so guter Manier — Ja versteht mich — Er gieng aus, ritt aus, wie's
ihm einkam, gar mit wenig Leuten. Haben wir doch alle geweint; wie er seinem
Sohn das Regiment hier abtrat - sagt' ich, versteht mich - der ist schon anders,
der ist majestatischer.
JETTER. Er lieB sich nicht sehen, da er hier war, [14] als in Prunk und Konigli-
chem Staate. Er spricht wenig, sagen die Leute.
SOEST. Es ist kein Herr fur uns Niederlander. Unsre Fiirsten miissen froh und
frey seyn, wie wir, leben und leben lassen. Wir wollen nicht verachtet, noch
gedruckt seyn, so gutherzige Narren wir auch sind.
JETTER. Der Konig, denk' ich, ware wohl ein gnadiger Herr, wenn er nur bes-
sere Rathgeber hatte.
[15] SOEST. Nein, nein! Er hat kein Gemiith gegen uns Niederlander, er liebt
uns nicht; wie konnen wir ihn wieder lieben? Warum ist alle Welt dem Grafen
Egmont so hold? Warum triigen wir ihn alle auf den Handen? Weil man ihm
ansieht, daB er uns wohl will; weil ihm die Frohlichkeit {das freie Leben}, die
gute Meynung aus den Augen sieht; weil er nichts besitzt, dafi er den Diirftigen
nicht mittheilte, auch dem, der's nicht bedarf. Lafit den Grafen Egmont leben!
Buyk, an Euch ist's, die erste Gesundheit zu bringen! [16] Bringt Eures Herrn
Gesundheit aus.
BUYK. Von ganzem Seele denn: Graf Egmont hoch!13 {hoch!} Dem Helden von
Gravelingen!
ALLE. Hoch!
BUYK. Gravelingen! Freunde! da gieng's frisch! Den Sieg haben wir allein.
Brannten und sengten die walschen Hunde nicht durch ganz Flandern? Aber
ich meyne, wir trafen sie! Ihre alten handfesten Kerle hielten lange wieder, und
wir drangten und schossen und hieben, da sie die Mauler verzerrten und ihre
[17] Linien zuckten. Da ward Egmont das Pferdt unter dem Leibe niederge-
schossen, und wir stritten lange hiniiber, heriiber, Mann fur Mann, Pferdt ge-
gen Pferdt, auf dem breiten flachen Sand an der See hin. Auf einmal kam's wie
vom Himmel herunter, von der Mundung des Flufies, bav! Bau! immer mit Ka-
nonen in die Franzosen drein. Es waren Englander, die von Diinkirchen her
vorbeyfuhren. Zwar viel halfen sie uns nicht; sie konnten nur mit den kleinsten
Schiffen herbey, und das nicht nahe genug; sie schossen auch [18] wohl unter
uns - Es that doch gut! es brach die Walschen und hob unsern Muth. Da
gings! Rick! Rack! heruber, hinuber! Alles todtgeschlagen, alles ins Wasser ge-
sprengt. Und die Kerle ersoffen wie sie das Wasser schmeckten; und was wir
Hollander waren, grad hinter drein. Uns, die wir beyd-lebig sind, ward erst
wohl im Wasser, wie den Froschen; und immer die Feinde im Flufi zusammen
gehauen, weggeschossen wie die Enten. Was nun noch durchbrach, schlugen
Euch auf der Flucht die Bauerweiber mit Hacken und Mistgabeln todt. Mufite
doch die wulsche Ma-[i9]jestat gleich Friede machen. Und den Frieden seyd Ihr
uns schuldig, dem grofien Egmont schuldig.
ALLE.14 {Buyk.} Hoch!15 dem grofien Egmont hoch! und abermal hoch! und ab-
ermal hoch!16
JETTER. \Alle. hoch! und abermals hoch. Hoch und nochmals hoch, hoch}
Hatte man uns den statt der Margaretha von Parma zum Regenten gesetzt!
SOEST. {Es wird Wein gebracht.} Nicht so! Wahr bleibt wahr! Ich lasse mir Mar-
garetha von Parma nicht schelten. Nun ist's an mir. Es lebe unsre gnadige Frau!
laut, dafies auch die im Hintergrunde horen sollen. Diese [20] stoflen mit an.
ALLE.17 {Soest.} Die Regentin lebe!
JETTER. {Alle: hoch!} Klug ist sie, und mafiig in allem, was sie thut; hielte sie's
nur nicht so steif .und fest mit den Pfaffen. Sie ist doch auch mit Schuld, dafi wir
die vierzehn neue Bischofsmutzen im Lande haben. Wozu die nur sollen? Nicht
wahr, dafi man Fremde in die gute Stellen einschieben kann? und wir sollen glau-
ben, es sey um der Religion willen. Ja es hat sich! An drey Bischofen hatten wir ge-
nug: da giengs ehrlich und ordent[2i]lich zu. Nun mufi doch auch jeder thun als
ob er notig ware; und da setzt' s alle Augenblick VerdruB und Handel. Sie trinken.
SOEST. Das war nun des Konigs Wille, sie kann nichts davon, noch dazu thun.
41 Egmont. Ein Trauersfiel in drey Aufaugen
JETTER. Da sollen wir nun die neuen Psalmen nicht singen. Die sind wahrlich
gar schon in Reimen gesetzt, und haben recht erbauliche Weisen. Die sollen wir
nicht singen; aber Schelmenlieder, so viel wir wollen. Und warum? [22] Es
seyen Ketzereyen drin, sagen sie, und Sachen, Gott weiE. Ich habe Ihrer doch
auch gesungen; es ist jetzt was neues,18 ich hab nichts drin gesehen.
BUYK. Ich wollte sie fragen! In unsrer Provinz singen wir, was wir wollen. Das
macht, dafi Graf Egmont unser Statthalter ist, der fragt nach so etwas nicht. laut
Es ist ja wohl nichts unschuldiger, als ein geisdich Lied? Nicht wahr, Vater?'9
RUYSUM. Ey20 {Ja} wohl! Es ist ja ein Gottes-Dienst, eine Erbauung.
[23] JETTER. Sie sagen aber, es sey nicht auf die rechte Art, nicht auf ihre Art;
und gefahrlich ist's doch immer, da lafit man's lieber seyn. Die Inquisitions-
Diener schleichen herum und passen auf; mancher ehrliche Mann ist schon un-
gliicklich gewesen.
SOEST. Die Inquisition kommt nicht auf. Wir sind nicht gemacht, wie die Spa-
nier, unser Gewissen tyrannisiren zu lassen.
JETTER. Es ist sehr fatal. Wenn's den lieben [24] Leuten einfallt, in mein Haus
zu stiirmen, und ich sitz' an meiner Arbeit, und summe just einen franzosischen
Psalm, und denke nichts dabey, weder gutes noch boses; ich summe ihn aber,
weil er mir in der Kehle ist; gleich bin ich ein Ketzer, und werde eingesteckt.
Wenn ich gehe iiber Land, und bleibe bey einem Haufen Vblcks stehen, das ei-
nem neuen Prediger zuhort, einem von denen, die aus Deutschland gekommen
sind; auf der Stelle heifi' ich ein Rebell, und komme in Gefahr, meinen Kopf zu
verlieren. Habt Ihr je einen [25] predigen horen?
SOEST. Wackre Leute. Neulich hort ich einen auf dem Felde vor tausend und
tausend Menschen sprechen. Das war ein ander Gekoch, als wann unsre auf der
Kanzel herumtrommeln, und die Leute mit lateinischen Brocken erwiirgen.
Der sprach von der Leber weg; sagte, wie sie uns bis her hatten bey der Nase
herum gefuhrt, uns in der Dummheit erhalten, und wie wir mehr Erleuchtung
haben konnten. - Und das bewiefi er Euch alles aus der [26] Bibel.
BUYK. Frisch, ihr Herren! iiber dem Schwatzen vergefit ihr den Wein und Ora-
nien.
JETTER. Den nicht zu vergessen. Hoch! Wilhelm von Oranien, hoch!
ALLE. Hoch! hoch!
SOEST. Nun, Alter, bring auch deine Gesundheit.
RUYSUM. Alte Soldaten! Alle Soldaten! Es lebe der Krieg!
[27] BUYK. Bravo, Alter! Alle Soldaten! Es lebe der Krieg!
Die Soldaten aus dem Hintergrunde kommen hervor, und stolen mit an.
JETTER." Krieg! Krieg! Wifit ihr auch, was Ihr ruft? Dafi es euch leicht vom
Munde geht, ist wohl natiirlich; wie lumpig aber unser einem dabey zu Muthe
ist, kann ich nicht sagen. Das ganze Jahr das Getrommel zu horen; und nichts
zu horen, als wie da ein Haufen gezogen kommt, und da ein anderer, wie sie
iiber einen Hiigel kamen, und [28] bey einer Miihle hielten, wie viel da geblie-
ben sind, wie viel dort, und wie sie sich drangen, und einer gewinnt, der andere
verliert, ohne dafi man sein' Tage begreift, wer was gewinnt oder verliert. Wie
eine Stadt eingenommen wird, die Burger ermordet werden, und wie's den ar-
men Weibern, und unschuldigen Kindern ergeht. Das ist eine Noth und Angst,
man denkt jeden Augenblick: "Da kommen sie! es geht uns auch so."
SOEST. Drum mufi auch ein Burger immer [29] in Waffen geubt seyn.
JETTER. Ja es ubt sich, wer Frau und Kinder hat. Und dochhor"22ich noch lie-
ber von Soldaten, als ich sie sehe.
BUYK. Das sollt ich ubel nehmen.
JETTER. Auf euch ist's nicht gesagt, Landsmann. Wie wir die spanischen Besat-
zungen los waren, hohlten wir wieder Athem.
SOEST. Gelt! Die lagen dir am schwersten auf?
JETTER. Vexier' er sich!23 [30]
SOEST. Die hatten scharfe Einquartierung bey dir.
JETTER. Halt dein Maul!
SOEST. Sie hatten ihn vertrieben aus der Kuche, dem Keller, der Stube - dem -
{Bette} Sie lachen.
JETTER. Du bist ein Tropf!
BUYK. Friede ihr Herren! Mufi der Soldat Friede rufen? - Nun da ihr von uns
nichts horen wollt, nun bringt auch [31] Eure Gesundheit aus, eine burgerliche
Gesundheit.
JETTER. Dazu sind wir bereit! - Sicherheit und Ruhe!
SOEST. Ordnung und frey Gewissen!
BUYK. Brav! Das sind auch wir zufrieden.
Sie stoften an und wiederhohlen frohlich die Worte, doch so, daftjeder ein anderes aus-
ntft, und es eine Art Kanon wird. DerAlte horcht undfallt endlich auch mit ein.
ALLE.24 {Soest.} Sicherheit und Ruhe! Ordnung und [32] Gewissens-Freyheit!25

{frei Gewissen! Alle. rezetiren]
Scene 2.26
Zimmermeister. Vorige
ZIMMERMEISTER. Sagt ich's nicht voraus? Noch vor acht Tagen auf der Zunft
sagt ich, es wurde schwere Handel geben.27
JETTER. einfallend Was giebts denn?
SOEST. Zugleich Was bring ihr?
SOEST.Buyk. zugleich Erzahlt Meister Zimmermann.
ZIMMERMEISTER. Wie? Wifit Ihr noch nicht — die Un-[33]sinnigen! — Dafi sie
in Flandern sich zusammen rottirt, dafi sie die katholischen Kirchen gepliindert
43 Egmont. Ein Trauenpiel in drey Aufzugen
haben - Die Soldaten, Burger und Weiber kommen vor und sammeln sich um den
Zimmermeister.
SOEST. Wer? die Aufruhrer?
JETTER. Die von der neuen Lehre?
ZIMMERMEISTER. Ganz und gar zu Grunde gerichtet haben sie Kirchen und
Kapellen. Nichts als die vier nackten Wande haben sie stehen lassen. Lauter
Lumpengesindel. Und das macht unsre gute [34] Sache schlimm. Wir hatten
eher, in der Ordnung und standhaft unsre Gerechtsame der Regentin vortragen
und darauf halten sollen. Reden wir jetzt, versammeln wir uns jetzt; so heifit es,
wir gesellen uns zu den Aufwieglern.
Scene 3.
Seifensieder. Vorige.
SEIFENSIEDER. Garstige Handel! uble Handel! Es wird unruhig und geht schief
aus! - Hutet Euch, dafi Ihr stille bleibt, dafi man Euch nicht auch fur
Aufwiegler halt.
SOEST. ihn aushohnend Da kommen die [35] sieben Weisen aus Griechenland.
SEIFENSIEDER. Ich weifi, da sind viele, die es heimlich mit den Kalvinisten hal-
ten, die auf die Bischofe lastern, die den Konig nicht scheuen. Aber ein treuer
Unterthan, ein aufrichtiger Katholik! -
Scene 4.
Vansen. Vorige.
VANSEN. Gott grufi Euch Herren! Was neues?

ZIMMERMEISTER. Vorne zu den nachststehenden Gebt Euch mit dem nicht ab,
das ist ein schlechter Kerl. [36]
JETTER. Ist es nicht der Schreiber beym Docktor Wiets?
ZIMMERMEISTER. Er hat schon viele Herrn gehabt. Erst war er Schreiber,
und wie ihn ein Patron nach dem andern fortjagte, Schelmstreiche halber,
pfuscht er jetzt Notaren und Advokaten ins Handwerk, und ist ein Brand-
weinzapf.
Burger, Burgerweiber und Soldaten stehen truppeneise.
VANSEN. vorwarts kommend Ihr seyd auch versammelt, steckt die Kopfe zusam-
men. [37] Es ist immer redenswerth.
SOEST. Ich denk auch.
VANSEN. Wenn jetzt einer oder der andere Herz hatte, und einer oder der an-
dere den Kopf dazu, wir konnten die spanischen Ketten auf einmal sprengen.
SOEST. Herr! So mufit Ihr nicht reden. Wir haben dem Konige geschworen.
VANSEN. Und der Konig uns. Merkt das.
JETTER. Das lafit sich horen! Sagt Eure Mey-[38]nung.
Iter et2ter BURGER. Horch! der versteht's! der hat Pfiffe.
VANSEN. Ich hatte einen alten Patron, der besafi Pergamente und Briefe von ur-
alten Stiftungen, Kontrakten und Gerechtigkeiten; er hielt auf die rarsten Bu-
cher. In einem stand unsre ganze Verfassung: wie uns Niederlander zuerst
einzelne Fursten regierten, alles nach hergebrachten Rechten, Privilegien und
Gewohnheiten; wie unsre Vorfahren alle Ehrfurcht fur ihren Fursten gehabt,
[39] wenn er sie regiert, wie er sollte, und wie sie sich gleich vorsahen, wenn er
uber die Schnur hauen wollte. Die Staaten waren gleich hinterdrein: denn jede
Provinz, so klein sie war, hatte ihre Staaten, ihre Landstande.
ZIMMERMEISTER. Haltet euer Maul! Das weifi man lange! ein jeder rechtschaf-
fene Burger ist, so viel er braucht, von der Verfassung unterrichtet.
JETTER. Lafit ihn reden; man erfahrt immer etwas mehr.
[40] SOEST. Er hat ganz Recht.
Iter
, 2ter et 3ter BURGER. Erzahlt! erzahlt! So etwas hort man nicht alle Tage.28
VANSEN. So seyd ihr Burgersleute! Ihr lebt nur so in den Tag hin; und wie ihr
euer Gewerb' von euren Eltern uberkommen habt, so lafit Ihr auch das Regi-
ment uber Euch schalten, und walten, wie es kann und mag.29 Ihr fragt nicht
nach dem Herkommen, nach der Historie, nach dem Recht [41] eines Regen-
ten; und uber das Versaumnifi haben Euch die Spanier das Netz uber die Ohren
gezogen.
SOEST. Wer denkt daran? Wenn einer nur das tagliche Brod hat.
JETTER. Verflucht! Warum tritt auch keiner in Zeiten auf und sagt einem so et-
was?
VANSEN. Ich sag' es Euch jetzt. Der Konig in Spanien, der die Provinzen durch
gut Gluck zusammen besitzt, darf doch nicht drin schalten und waIten, anders
[42] als die kleinen Fursten, die sie ehemals einzeln besafien. Begreift ihr das?
JETTER. Erklart's uns.
VANSEN. Es ist so klar als die Sonne. Mufit Ihr nicht nach euern Landrechten
gerichtet werden? Woher kame das?
IterBURGER. Wahrlich!30
VANSEN. Hat der Brufier nicht ein ander Recht, als der Antwerpner? Der Ant-
werpner als der Gentner? Woher kame [43] denn das?
3ter BURGER. BeyGott!31
VANSEN. Aber wenn Ihr's so fortlaufen lafit, wird man's Euch bald anders wei-
sen. Pfuy! Was Karl der Kuhne, Karl der Funfte nicht konnten, das thut nun
Philipp durch ein Weib.
SOEST. Ja, ja! Die alten Fursten haben's auch schon probirt.
VANSEN. Freylich! - Unsre Vorfahren pafiten auf. Unsre Vater waren Leute!
Die [44] wufiten, was ihnen nutz war! Die wufiten etwas zu fassen und fest zu
45 Egmont. Ein Trauerspiel in drey Aujzugen
setzen! Rechte Manner! Dafur sind aber auch unsere Privilegien so deutlich, un-
sere Freyheiten so versichert.
SEIFENSIEDER. Was sprecht Ihr von Privilegien?
JETTER. Von unsern Freyheiten, von unsern Privilegien! Erzahlt noch was von
unseren Privilegien.
ALLE. aufier dem Zimmenneister und Seifensieder: Erzahlt von unsern [45] Privi-
legien!32
VANSEN. Wir Brabanter besonders, obgleich alle Provinzen ihre Vorteile haben,
wir sind am herrlichsten versehen. Ich habe alles gelesen.
SOEST. Sagt an.
zugleich JETTER. Lafit horen.
Iter BURGER. Ich bitt' Euch.33
VANSEN. Ersdich steht geschrieben der Herzog von Brabant soIl uns ein guter
und getreuer Herr seyn.
[46] SOEST. Gut! steht das so?
zugleich JETTER. Getreu! ist das wahr?
VANSEN. Wie ich Euch sage. Er ist uns verpflichtet, wie wir ihm: er soIl keine
Macht oder eignen Willen an uns beweisen, merken lassen, oder gedenken zu
gestatten, auf keinerley Weise.
JETTER. Schon! schon! nicht beweisen.
Iter BURGER. Nicht merken lassen.34
SOEST. Und nicht gedenken zu gestatten! Das [47] ist der Hauptpunkt. Nie-
manden gestatten, auf keinerley Weise.
VANSEN. Mit ausdrucklichen Worten.
JETTER. Schafft uns das Buch.
zugleich Iter BURGER. Ja wir mussen's haben.35
2ter et 3ter BURGER zugleich.36 {Alle} Das Buch! das Buch!
Iter BURGER. Wir wollen zu der Regentin gehen mit dem Buche.
2ter BURGER. Ihr sollt das Wort fuhren Herr Doktor.37
[48] SEIFENSIEDER. O die Tropfe!
DIE WEIBER. Noch etwas aus dem Buche!38
SEIFENSIEDER. Ich schlage ihm die Zahne in den Hals, wenn er noch ein Wort
spricht.
Iter et 2ter BURGER .39 {Soest.} zugleich Wir wollen sehen, wer ihm was thut.
3ter BURGER. Sagt uns, was von den Privilegien!40
zugleic IterBURGER.41 {Jetter.} Haben wir noch mehr Privilegien?
[49] VANSEN. Mancherley und sehr gute, sehr heilsame. Da steht auch: der
Landsherr soIl den geistlichen Stand nicht verbessern oder mehren, ohne
Verwilligung des Adels und der Stande! Merkt das. Auch den Staat des Landes
nicht verandern.
SOEST. Ist das so?
VANSEN. Ich will's Euch geschrieben zeigen, von zwey, drey hundert Jahren her.
2ter und 3ter BURGER. 42 {Jetter.} Und wir leiden die neuen Bischofe? [50] Der
Adel mufi uns schiitzen, wir fangen Handel an.
Iter
Iter BURGER. Und wir lassen uns von der Inquisition ins Bockshorn jagen.
VANSEN. Das ist Eure Schuld.43
ALLE BURGER. 44 {Jetter.} Wir haben noch Egmont! noch Oranien! Die sorgen
fur unser Bestes.
VANSEN. Eure Bruder in Flandern haben das gute Werk angefangen.
SEIFENSIEDER. Du Hund! Er schlagt ihn.
[51] 2ter BURGER. Bist du auch ein Spanier?
zugleich 3ter BURGER. Was? den Ehrenmann?
zugleich Iter BURGER. Den Gelahrten? Sie fallen den Seifensieder an.45
ZIMMERMEISTER. Um's Himmelswillen ruht!
Soest et jetter. mischen sich in den Streit.
Weiber. schreyen darein.
Soldaten. stehen undgaffen.
[52]Andere. gehen gelassen aufundab.
ALLE BURGER. in Handgemenge zusammen Unsre Privilegien! Privilegien und

Gewissens-Freyheit!46
Scenes
Vorige. Egmont, mit Begleitung.
EGMONT. Ruhig! Ruhig Leute! Was giebt's? Ruhe! zu seinem Gefolge Bringt sie
auseinander!
Etliche von seinem Gefolge und Buyk gehen ab, Vansen lauftfort.
[53] ZIMMERMEISTER. Gnadiger Herr, Ihr kommt wie ein Engel des Himmels.
Stille!47 Seht Ihr nichts? Graf Egmont, dem Grafen Egmont Reverenz. {Alle
nehmen die Mutzen ab.48}
EGMONT. {Auch hier?} Was fangt Ihr an? Burger gegen Burger! Halt sogar die
Nahe unserer koniglichen Regentin diesen Unsinn nicht zuruck? Geht auseinan-
der.49 {Geht an Euer Gewerbe. Es ist ein ubles Zeichen.50} Was war's?
Der Tumult stillt sich nach und nach: Das Volk weicht ehrerbietig nach dem Hin-
tergrunde zuruck, daft ein freyer [54] Raum um Egmont wird. Vorn bleiben Soest,
Jetter, Zimmermeister und Seifensieder, zwey aufjeder Seite des Theaters.
47 Egmont. Ein Trauerspiel in dreyAufzugen
ZIMMERMEISTER. Sie schlagen sich um ihre Privilegien.

EGMONT. Die sie noch muthwillig zertrummern werden - Und wer seyd Ihr?
Ihr scheint mir rechtliche Leute.
ZIMMERMEISTER. Das ist unser Bestreben.
EGMONT. zum Zimmermeister: Eures Zeichens?
[55] ZIMMERMEISTER. Zimmermann, und Zunftmeister.
EGMONT. zu SoestUnd Ihr?
SOEST. Kramer.
EGMONT. zum Seifensieder Ihr?
SEIFENSIEDER. Seifensicder.
EGMONT. zu Jetters1 Ihr?
JETTER. Schneider.
EGMONT. Ich erinnere mich, Ihr habt mit an [56] den Livreen fur meine Leute
gearbeitet. Euer Name ist Jetter.
JETTER. Gnade, dafi Ihr Euch dessen erinnert.
EGMONT. Ich vergesse niemanden Ieicht, den ich einmal gesehen und gespro-
chen habe. - Was an Euch ist, Ruhe zu erhalten, Leute, das thut, Ihr seyd ubel
genug angeschrieben. Reitzt den Konig nicht mehr, er hat zuletzt doch die Ge-
walt in Handen. Ein ordentlicher Burger, der sich ehrlich und fleifsig nahrt, hat
uberall so viel Freyheit als er braucht.
[57] ZIMMERMEISTER. Ach wohl! Das ist eben unsre Noth! Die Tagediebe, die
Saufer, die Faulenzer, mit Euer Gnaden Verlaub, die stankern aus Langerweile,
und52 scharren aus Hunger nach Privilegien, und lugen den Neugierigen und
Leichtglaubigen was vor; und um eine Kanne Bier bezahlt zu kriegen, fangen sie
Handel an, die viel tausend Menschen unglucklich machen. Das ist ihnen eben
recht. Wir halten unsre Hauser und Kasten zu gut verwahrt; da mochten sie
gern uns mit Feuerbranden davontreiben.
[58] EGMONT. Allen Beystand sollt Ihr finden; es sind Maafiregeln genommen,
dem Ubel kraftig zu begegnen. Steht fest gegen die fremde Lehre, und glaubt
nicht, durch Aufruhr befestige man Privilegien. Bleibt zu Hause; leidet nicht,
dafi sie sich auf den Strafien rotten. Vernunftige Leute konnen viel thun.
ZIMMERMEISTER. Danken Euer Exzellenz, danken fur die gute Meynung! Alles
was an uns liegt.
EGMONT. Was giebt's?
[59] Einige von Egmonts Leuten treten mit Vamen auf, und erregen im Hinter-
grunde ein Gedrdnge.
BUYK. Diesen da haben wir aufgefangen. Er wollte sich fluchtig machen. Sie
sagen, er sey der Aufhezer und Handelstifter gewesen.
EGMONT. Nach dem Hintergrundegehend Lafit die Menge zurucktreten - Platz -53
Wer bist du Unglucklicher? Er spricht don, d a f i er vorne nicht kann gehort
werder54
[60] ZIMMERMEISTER. Ein gnadiger Herd Der achte Niederlander! Gar so

nichts Spanisches.
SOEST. Hatten wir ihn nur zum Regenten. Man folgt ihm gerne.
JETTER. Hast du das Kleid gesehen? Das war nach der neuesten Art, nach spa-
nischem Schnitte.
ZIMMERMEISTER. Ein schoner Herr!55
SOEST. Sein Hals war' ein rechtes Fressen fur einen Scharfrichter.
[61] ZIMMERMEISTER. Bist du toll? Was kommt dir ein?
SOEST. Dumm genug, dafi einem so etwas einfallt — Es ist mir nun so. Wenn ich
einen schonen langen Hals sehe, mufi ich gleich wider Willen denken: der ist gut
zu kopfen - Die verfluchten Exekutionen! man kriegt sie nicht aus dem Sinn.56
Wenn die Bursche schwimmen, und ich sehe einen nakten Buckel, gleich fallen
sie mir zu Dutzenden ein, die ich habe mit Ruthen streichen sehen. Begegnet
mir ein rechter [62] Wanst, meyn ich, den seh ich schon am Pfahl braten.
EGMONT. 57 vorwarts kommend zu Vansen Unsinniger Mensch! Weifit du die
gescharften Befehle des Konigs, und dafi ich dich ohne weiters durchpeitschen
lassen und uber die Grenzen schaffen sollte. - Aber was hilft mir dein zerschla-
gener Buckel? — Man mag ihn laufen lassen fur diesmal, er wird sich huten, mir
zum zweyten mal in den Weg zu kommen. Zu dem Volk Ich seh es [63] wohl,
wir sind euch viel zu mild, zu menschlich — Ihr seyd es mude, von euern Lands-
leuten beherrscht zu seyn - eine spanische Regierung wollt Ihr - und die wird
euch werden, eh ihrs denkt. ab58
Scene 6.59
Zimmer bey Egmont

RICHARD allein.
an einem Tisch mitPapieren; ersteht unruhigaufEr kommt immer nicht! und ichan einem Tisch mitPapieren; ersteht unruhigaufEr kommt immer nicht! und ich
warte schon zwey Stunden, die Feder in der Hand,60 die Papiere vor mir; und
eben heute mogt ich gern so zeitig fort. Es brennt mir unter den Sohlen. Ich
kann vor Ungeduld [64] kaum bleiben. "Sey auf die Stunde da," befahl ermir
noch, ehe er wegging; nun kommt er nicht. Es ist so viel zu thun, ich werde vor
Mitternacht nicht fertig. Freylich sieht er einem auch einmal durch die Finger.
Doch hielt ich's besser, wenn er strenge ware, und lieSe einen auch wieder zur be-
stimmten Zeit. Man konnte sich einrichten.61 Von der Regentinn ist er nun
schon zwey Stunden weg, wer weifi, wen er unterwegs angefafit hat.
Scene 7.
Egmont. Richard.
[65] EGMONT. Wie sieht's aus?

49 Egmont. Ein Tmuerspiel in drey Aufciigen
RICHARD. Ich bin bereit, und drey Bothen warten.

EGMONT. Ich bin dir wohl zu lang geblieben; du machst ein verdrufilich Gesicht.
RICHARD. Euerm Befehl zu gehorchen, wart' ich schon lange. Hier sind die Pa-
piere.
EGMONT. Donna Elvira wird bose auf mich werden, wenn sie hort, dafi ich
dich abgehalten habe.
RICHARD. Ihrscherzt.
[66] EGMONT. Nein, nein! Scharne dich nicht. Du zeigst einen guten Ge-
schmack. Sie ist hubsch, und es ist mir ganz recht, dafi du auf dem Schlofie eine
Freundinn hast. Was sagen die Briefe?
RICHARD. Mancherley und wenig erfreuliches.
EGMONT. Das ist gut {Da ists gut}, dafi wir die Freude zu Hause haben, und sie
nicht auswarts her zu erwarten brauchen - Sag' an, das nothigste.
RICHARD. Es ist alles notig.
[67] EGMONT. Eins nach dem andern, nur geschwind!
RICHARD. Hauptmann Breda schickt die Relation, was weiter in Gent und der
umliegenden Gegend vorgefallen.62 Der Tumult hat sich meistens gelegt -
EGMONT. Er schreibt wohl noch von einzelnen Ungezogenheiten und Toll-
kuhnheiten?
RICHARD. Ja! es kommt noch manches vor.
EGMONT. Verschone mich damit.
RICHARD. Noch sechs sind eingezogen worden, die [68] bey Verwich das Ma-
rienbild umgerissen haben. Er fragt an, ob er sie auch wie die Andern soIl han-
gen lassen?
EGMONT. Ich bin des Hangens mude. Man soIl sie durchpeitschen und sie mo-
gen gehen.
RICHARD. Es sind zwey Weiber dabey; soIl er die auch durchpeitschen?
EGMONT. Die mag er warnen und laufen lassen.
RICHARD. Ein Brief von Eurem Einnehmer.63 [69] Er schreibt: es komme wenig
Geld ein, er konne auf die Wache die verlangte Summe schwerlich schicken; der
Tumult habe in alles die grofite Konfufiion gebracht.
EGMONT. Das Geld mufi herbey; er mag sehen, wie er es zusammen bringt.
RICHARD. Er sagt: er werde sein moglichstes thun! Er wolle den alten Soldaten,
den Wittwen und einigen andern, denen Ihr Gnadengehalt gebt, die Gebuhr ei-
nen halben Monath zuruck halten, man konne [70] indessen Rath schaffen; sie
mochten sich einrichten.
EGMONT. Was ist da einzurichten? Die Leute brauchen das Geld notiger als ich.
Das soIl er bleiben lassen.
RICHARD. Woher befehlt Ihr denn, dafi er das Geld nehmen soIl?
EGMONT. Darauf mag er denken; es ist ihm im vorigen Briefe schon gesagt.
RICHARD. Defiwegen thut er die Vorschlage.
[71] EGMONT. Die taugen nicht. Er soIl auf was anders sinnen. Er soIl Vor-
schlage thun, die annehmlich sind, und vor allem soIl er das Geld schicken.
5o Images of Goethe through Schiller's Egmont
RICHARD. Ich habe den Brief des Grafen Oliva wieder hieher gelegt. Verzeiht,
dafi ich Euch daran erinnere. Der alte Herr verdient vor alien andern eine aus-
fiihrliche Antwort.64 Ihr wolltet ihm selbst schreiben. Gewifi er liebt Euch wie
ein Vater.65
EGMONT. Ich komme nicht dazu. Und unter viel [72] Verhafitem ist mir das
Schreiben das Verhafiteste. Du machst meine Hand ja so gut nach; schreib' in
meinem Namen — Beruhige Ihn66 — Ich erwarte Oranien. {Ich komme nicht
dazu und wunschte doch selbst, dafi ihm auf seine Bedenklichkeiten was recht
Beruhigendes geschrieben wurde.67}
RICHARD. Sagt mir nur ungefahr eure Meynung, ich will die Antwort schon
aufsetzen und sie Euch vorlegen. Geschrieben soIl sie werden, dafi sie vor Ge-
richt fur Eure Hand gelten kann.
EGMONT. Gieb mir den Brief, nachdem er hinein gesehen Guter ehrlicher Alter!
[73] Warst du in deiner Jugend auch wohl so bedachtig? Erstiegst du nie einen
Wall? Bliebst du in der Schlacht, wo es die Klugheit anrath, hinten? - Der treue
Sorgliche. Er will mein Leben und mein Gluck; und fuhlt nicht, dafi der schon
todt ist, der um seiner Sicherheit willen lebt. - Schreib' ihm: er moge unbesorgt
seyn; ich handle, wie ich soIl, ich wurde mich schon wahren; sein Ansehen bey
Hofe soIl er zu meinen Gunsten brauchen, und meines vollkommenen Dankes
gewifi seyn.
RICHARD. Nichts weiter? O er erwartet mehr.
[74] EGMONT. Was soIl ich mehr sagen? Willst du mehr Worte machen; so
stehts bey dir. Es dreht sich immer um den einen Punkt; ich soIl leben, wie ich
nicht leben kann,68 wie ich nicht leben mag; dafi ich frohlich bin, die Sachen
leicht nehme, rasch lebe, das ist mein Gluck; und ich vertauschte es nicht gegen
die Sicherheit eines Todten-Gewolbes. Ich habe nun zu der Spanischen Lebens-
art, nicht einen Bluttropfen in meinen Adern, nicht Lust, meine Schritte nach
der neuen bedachtigen Hof-Kadenz zu mustern.69 [75] Leb' ich nur um aufs Le-
ben zu denken? SoIl ich den gegenwartigen Augenblick nicht genieKen, damit
ich des folgenden gewifi sey? — Und diesen wieder mit Sorgen und Grillen ver-
zehren?70
RICHARD. 71 Ich bitt' Euch, Herr, seyd nicht so barsch und rauh gegen den
Mann. Ihr seyd ja sonst gegen alle freundlich. Sagt mir ein gefalliges Wort, das
den edlen Freund beruhige. Seht, wie sorgfaltig er ist! wie leise er euch beriihrt.
[76] EGMONT. Und doch beriihrt er immer diese Sake. Er weif? von Alters her,
wie verhafo mir diese Ermahnungen sind, sie machen nur irre, sie helfen nichts.
{Und wenn ich ein Nachtwandler ware und auf dem ... 72} Lafo jeden Seines
Pfades gehen, er mag sich wahren.
RICHARD. Es ziemt Euch nicht zu sorgen, aber was Euch kennt und liebt -73
EGMONT. in den Brief sehend Da bringt er wieder die alien Mahrchen auf, was
wir an einem Abend im leichten [77] Ubermuth der Gefalligkeit und des Weins
getrieben und gesprochen; und was man daraus fur Folgen und Beweise durchs
ganze Konigreich gezogen und geschleppt habe — Nun gut! wir haben Schellen-
ji Egmont. Ein Tniuerspielin dreyAujzugen
kappen, Narrenkutten auf unsrer Diener Ermel stecken74 lassen, und haben
diese tolle Zierde nachher in ein Biindel Pfeile verwandelt; ein noch gefahrli-
cher Symbol fur alle, die deuten wollen, wo nichts zu deuten ist. Wir haben
diese und jene Thorheit in einem lustigen Augenblick angefangen [78] und ge-
bohren, sind schuld, dafi eine ganze edle Schaar mit Bettelsacken und einem
selbst gewahlten Unnahmen, dem Konige seine Pflicht mit spottender Demuth
ins Gedachtnis rief, sind schuld -75 was ists nun weiter? Ist ein Fastnachtsspiel
gleich Hochverrath? Sind uns die kurzen bun ten Lappen zu mifigonnen, die ein
jugendlicher Muth, eine angefrischte Phantasie um unsres Lebens arme Blose
hangen mag?7* Wenn ihr das Leben gar zu ernsthaft nehmt, was ist dann daran?
Wenn uns der [79] Morgen nicht zu neuen Freuden weckt, am Abend uns keine
Lust zu hoffen iibrig bleibt; ists wohl des An= und Ausziehens werth? Scheint
mir die Sonne heut, um das zu iiberlegen, was gestern war? und um zu
{erjrathen, zu verbinden, was nicht zu errathen, nicht zu verbinden ist, das
Schicksal eines kommenden Tages? Schenke mir diese Betrachtungen; wir wol-
len sie Schiilern und Hoflingen uberlassen. {Kannst Du von allem diesen etwas
brauchen?77} Die mogen sinnen und aus sinnen, wandeln und schleichen,
gelangen wohin sie konnen, erschleichen, was sie [8o/8] konnen.79 Dem guten
Alten scheint alles viel zu wichtig. {So driickt ein Freund, der lang unsere Hand
gehalten, sie starker noch einmal wenn er sie lassen will.80}
RICHARD. Verzeiht mir. Es wird dem FuKganger schwindlich, der einen Mann
mit rasselnder Eile daher fahren sieht.81
EGMONT. Nicht weiter! Wie von unsichtbaren Geistern zerpeitscht, gehen die
Sonnenpferdte der Zeit mit unsers Schicksals leichten Wagen durch; und uns
bleibt nichts, als muthig gefafit, die Ziigel fest zu halten, und bald rechts bald
links, vom Steine hier, [81] vom Sturze da, die Rader wegzulenken. Wohin es
geht, wer weifi es? Erinnert er sich doch kaum, woher er kam?
RICHARD. Herr! Herr!
EGMONT. Ich stehe hoch, und kann und mu8 Hofrhung, Muth und Kraft.
Noch hab' ich meines Wachsthums Gipfel nicht erreicht; und steh ich droben
einst, so will ich fest, nicht angstlich stehen; soil ich fallen; so mag ein Donner-
schlag, ein Sturmwind, da ein selbst [82] verfehlter Schritt mich abwarts in
die Tiefe stiirzen; da lieg ich mit viel Tausenden. Ich habe nie verschmaht,
mit meinen guten Kriegsgesellen um kleinen Gewinnst das blutige Loos zu
werfen; und sollt' ich knickern, wenn's um den ganzen freyen Werth des Le-
bens geht?
RICHARD. O Herr! Ihr wifit nicht, was fur Worte Ihr sprecht! Gott erhalt' Euch!
EGMONT. Nimm deine Papiere zusammen. Oranien kommt. Fertige aus, was
[83] am nothigsten ist, dafi die Bothen fort kommen. Den Brief an den Grafen
lafi bis Morgen. Versaume nicht, Elviren zu besuchen, und griifie sie von mir -
Horche, wie sich die Regentin befindet; sie soil nicht wohl seyn, ob sie's gleich
verbirgt. Bey meiner Klara findest du mich, wenn etwas vorfallt.82 Richard
geht ab.
Scene 8.
Egmont. Prinz von Oranien.
EGMONT. Willkommen, Oranien. Ihr scheint [84] mir nicht ganz frey.
ORANIEN. Was sagt Ihr zu unsrer Unterhaltung mit der Regentinn?
EGMONT. Ich fand in ihrer Art uns aufzunehmen, nichts aufierordentliches. Ich
habe sie schon offers so gesehen. Sie schien mir nicht ganz wohl.
ORANIEN. Merktet Ihr nicht, dafi sie zuriickhaltender war? Erst wollte sie unser
Betragen bey dem neuen Aufruhr des Pobels gelassen billigen; nachher merkte
[85] sie an, was sich doch auch fur ein solches Licht darauf werfen lasse; wich
dann mit dem Gesprache zu ihrem alten gewohnlichen Discours,8' {ging dann
mit dem Gesprache auf ihr altes gewohnliches Thema,} dafi man ihre liebevolle
gute Art, ihre Freundschaft zu uns Niederlandern, nie genug erkannt, zu leicht
behandelt habe,84 dafi sie am Ende wohl miide werden, der Konig sich zu ande-
ren Maafiregeln entschliefien miifie. Habt Ihr das gehort?
EGMONT. Nicht alles; ich dachte unterdessen an was anders. Sie ist ein Weib,
guter [86] Oranien, und die mochten immer gern, dafi sich alles unter ihr sanf-
tes Joch gelassen schmiegte, dafi jeder Herkules die Lowenhaut ablegte; und ih-
ren Kunkelhof vermehrte. Das ist ihr Fall; und da sie es dahin nicht bringen
kann, so hat sie keinen Weg, als launisch zu werden, sich iiber Undankbarkeit,
Unweifiheit zu beklagen, mit schrecklichen Aussichten in die Zukunft zu dro-
hen, und zu drohen, dafi sie fort gehen will.
ORANIEN. Man halt sie dieser Entschliefiung [87] nicht fahig, weil Ihr sie habt
zaudern, weil Ihr sie habt zuriicktreten sehen; dennoch liegt's wohl in ihr, neue
Umstande treiben sie zu dem lang verzb'gerten Entschlufi. Wenn sie ginge? und
der Konig schickte einen andern?
EGMONT. Nun der wiirde kommen, und eben auch zu thun finden.85 Mit grofien
Planen, Projeckten und Gedanken wiirde er kommen, wie er alles zurecht riicken,
unterwerfen und zusammenhalten wolle; und wiirde heut mit dieser Kleinigkeit,
morgen mit einer [88] anderen zu thun haben, ubermorgen jene Hindernifie fin-
den, einen andren mit Verdrufi iiber fehlgeschlagene Unternehmen, ein halb Jahr
in Sorgen iiber eine einzige Provinz zubringen.86 Auch ihm wird die Zeit verge-
hen, der Kopf schwindeln, und die Dinge wie zuvor ihren Gang halten, dafi er,
statt weite Meere nach einer vorgezogenen Linie zu durchsegeln,87 {dafi er} Gott
danken mag, wenn er sein Schiff in diesem Sturme vom Felsen halt.
ORANIEN. Wenn man nun aber dem Konig [89] zu einem Versuch riethe?
EGMONT. Der ware?
ORANIEN. Zu sehen, was der Rumpf ohne Haupt anfinge?
EGMONT. Wie?
ORANIEN. Egmont, ich trage viele Jahre her alle unsre Verhaltnifie am Herzen,
ich stehe immer wie iiber einem Schachspiel, und halte keinen Zug das Gegners
53 Egmont. Ein Tntuerspielin drey Aufziigen
fur unbedeutend; und wie miiGige Menschen sich mit der grofiten [90] Sorgfalt
um die Geheimnifie der Natur bekiimmern; so halte ich es fur Pflichr, fur Beruf
eines Fiirsten, die Rathschlage aller Partheyen zu kennen.88 Ich habe Ursach, ei-
nen Ausbruch zu befiirchten. Der Konig hat lange nach gewissen Grundsatzen
gehandelt, er sieht, daf? er damit nicht aus kommt; was ist wahrscheinlicher, als
dafi er es auf einem andern Wege versucht?
EGMONT. Ich glaub's nicht. Wenn man alt wird, und hat so viel versucht, und
es will in der Welt nie zur Ordnung kommen, [91] mufi man es endlich wohl
genug haben.
ORANIEN. Eins hat er noch nicht versucht.
EGMONT. Nun?
ORANIEN. Das Volk zu schonen, und die Fursten zu verderben.
EGMONT. Wie Viele haben das schon lange gefurchtet! Es ist keine Sorge!
ORANIEN. Sonst war's Sorge; nach und nach ist mir's Vermuthung, zuletzt Ge-
wifiheit geworden.89
[92] EGMONT. Und90 hat der Konig treuere Diener als uns?
ORANIEN. Wir dienen Ihm auf unsre Art; und unter einander konnen wir
gestehen, dafi wir des Konigs Rechte und die unsrigen wohl abzuwagen
wissen.
EGMONT. Wer thut's nicht? Wir sind ihm unterthan und gewartig; in dem was
ihm zukommt.
ORANIEN. Wenn er sich nun aber mehr zuschriebe, und Treulosigkeit nennte,
was wir [93] heifsen, auf unsre Rechte halten?
EGMONT. Wir werden uns vertheidigen konnen. Er rufe die Ritter des Vliesses
zusammen, wir wollen uns richten lassen.
ORANIEN. Und was ware ein Urtheil vor der Untersuchung? eine Strafe vor
dem Urtheil?
EGMONT. Eine Ungerechtigkeit, der sich Philipp nie schuldig machen wird;
und eine Thorheit, die ich ihm und seinen Rathen nicht zutraue.
[94] ORANIEN. Und wenn sie ungerecht und thoricht waren?
EGMONT. 91 Nein, Oranien, es ist nicht moglich. Wer sollte wagen92 {sich
erkiihnen}, Hand an uns zu legen? - Uns gefangen zu nehmen, war ein ver-
lornes und fruchtloses Unternehmen. Nein, sie wagen nicht, das Panier der
Tyranney so hoch zu stecken. Der Windhauch, der diese Nachricht liber's
Land brachte, wiirde ein ungeheueres Feuer zusammen treiben. Und wohin-
aus wollten sie? Richten und verdammen kann nicht [95] der Konig allein;
und wollten sie meuchelmorderisch an unser Leben? - Sie konnen nicht wol-
len. Ein schrecklicher Bund wiirde in einem Augenblick das Volck vereinigen,
Hafi und ewige Trennung vom spanischen Namen wiirde sich gewaltsam er-
klaren.93
ORANIEN. Die Flamme wiithete dann iiber unserm Grabe, und das Blut unsrer
Feinde flosse zum leeren Siihnopfer. {La6 uns denken, Egmont.94}
Scene?.9''
Prinz von Oranien. Egmont. Richard, dringend und erschrocken
[96] EGMONT. Du siehst ja ganz verstort aus, Richard - was bringst du?
RICHARD. Die Regentinn ruft Euch — Euch auch Prinz von Oranien. — Es ist
dringend - der ganze Staatsrath wird versammelt - Macht Euch gefafit, eine
sehr schlimme Zeitung zu vernehmen.
ORANIEN. Ich lese sie in deinem entfarbten Gesicht - Herzog Alba ist unterwegs.
RICHARD. Er steht schon an den Grenzen von [97] Brabant, von zehn spani-
schen Regimentern begleitet.
Egmont und Oranien sehen sich einander betroffen an.
RICHARD, fahrt nach einer Pause fort So eben brachte ein Eilboth der Statthal-
terinn die Nachricht - Es sind auch Briefe vom Konig angekommen, die sie
sehr beunruhigen. - Ich erfuhr es auf dem Schlofie von Donna Elvira, und
sprengte sogleich hieher, euch vorzubereiten.'6 — Die Bestiirzung ist allgemein,
alles zittert vor dem Mordsinne des Her-[98]zogs, und man fiirchtet, dafi die
Regentin ihm Platz machen werde.
EGMONT. Lafi uns allein, Richard.
Richard geht ab.
Scene 10.
Egmont. Oranien.
EGMONT. nach einer Pause Euer Geist hat Euch dies gut geweifisagt, Oranien -
aber ich hofife, Ihr sollt Euch dennoch geirrt haben.
ORANIEN. Wie Egmont? Was erwartet Ihr noch? Wiirde der Konig einen Alba
[99] gewahlt haben, um den Weg der Giite zu versuchen? Wiirde er, den feyer-
lichsten Vertragen zuwider, Spanier in die Niederlande fiihren, wenn er ihre
Freyheit nicht zu Boden treten will?
EGMONT. auf und abgehend in grower BewegungKuk neue die Provinzen zu be-
lastigen? das Volck wird hochst schwierig werden.
ORANIEN. Man wird sich der Haupter versichern.
EGMONT. Nein! nein!
[100] ORANIEN. Lafi uns gehen, jeder in seine Provinz. Dort wollen wir uns ver-
starken; mit ofFener Gewalt fangt er nicht an.
EGMONT. MiiEen wir ihn nicht begrufien, wenn er kommt?
ORANIEN. Wir zogern?
EGMONT. Und wenn er uns im Namen des Konigs bey seiner Ankunft fordert?
55 Egmont. Bin Traumpielin drey Aufeiigen
ORANIEN. Suchen wir Ausfliichte.

[101] EGMONT. Und wenn er dringt?
ORANIEN. Entschuldigen wir uns.
EGMONT. Und wenn er darauf besteht?
ORANIEN. Kommen wir um so weniger.
EGMONT. Und der Krieg ist erklart, und wir sind die Rebellen. Oranien, lafi
dich nicht durch Klugheit verfiihren; ich weifi, dafi Furcht dich nicht weichen
macht. Bedenke den Schritt.
ORANIEN. Ich hab' ihn bedacht.
[102,] EGMONT. Bedenke, wenn du dich irrst, woran du Schuld bist; an dem
verderblichsten Kriege, der je ein Land verwiistet hat. Dein Weigern ist das Sig-
nal, das die Provinzen mit Einemmale zu den Waffen ruft, das jede Grausamkeit
rechtfertigt, wozu Spanien von jeher nur gern den Vorwand gehascht hat. Was
wir lange miihselig gestillt haben, wirst du mit einem Winke zur schrecklichsten
Verwirrung aufhetzen.97 Denk' an die Stadte, die Edeln, das Volck, an die
Handlung,98 [103] den Feldbau, die Gewerbe! und denke die Verwiistung, den
Mord! - Ruhig sieht der Soldat wohl im Felde seinen Kameraden neben sich
niederfallen; aber den Flufi herunter werden dir die Leichen der Burger, der
Kinder, der Jungfrauen entgegen schwimmen, dafi du mit Entsetzen da stehst,
und nicht mehr weifit, wessen Sache du vertheidigst; da die zu Grunde gehen,
fur deren Freyheit du die Waffen ergreifst. Und wie wird dirs seyn, wenn du dir
still sagen mufit: fur meine Sicherheit ergriff ich sie.
ORANIEN. Wir sind nicht einzelne Menschen, Eg-[iO4]mont. Ziemt es sich, uns
fur Tausende hinzugeben; so ziemt es sich auch, uns fur Tausende zu schonen.
EGMONT. Wer sich schont, mufi sich selbst verdachtig werden.
ORANIEN. Wer sich kennt, kann sicher vor- und riickwarts gehen.
EGMONT. Das Ubel, das du furchtest, wird gewifi durch deine That.
ORANIEN. Es ist klug und kiihn, dem unvermeidlichen Ubel entgegen zu ge-
hen. Wir" {Egmont. [105] Bei so grofier Gefahr, kommt auch die leichteste
Hoffnung in Anschlag. Oranien.} <Wir> haben nicht fur den leisesten FuEtritt
Platz mehr, der Abgrund liegt hart vor uns.
EGMONT. Ist des Konigs Gunst ein so schmaler Grund?
ORANIEN. So schmal nicht, aber schliipfrig.
EGMONT. Bey Gott! man thut ihm Unrecht. Ich mag nicht leiden, da{? man un-
wiirdig von ihm denkt! Er ist Karls Sohn und keiner Niedrigkeit fahig. Man
sollte ihn kennen lernen.
ORANIEN. Eben diese KenntniK rath uns, eine [106] gefahrliche Probe nicht ab-
zuwarten.
EGMONT. Keine Probe ist gefahrlich, zu der man Muth hat.
ORANIEN. Du wirst aufgebracht, Egmont.
EGMONT. Ich mufi mit meinen Augen sehen.
ORANIEN. O sah'st du diesmal nur mit den meinigen! Freund, weil du sie offen
hast, glaubst du, du siehst. Ich gehe! warte du Albas Ankunft ab, und Gott sey
bey dir. Vielleicht rettet dich mein Weigern. Vielleicht daE der [107] Drache
nichts zu fangen glaubt, wenn er uns nicht Beyde auf Einmal verschlingt. Viel-
leicht zogert er, um seinen Anschlag sicherer auszufiihren; und vielleicht siehst
du indeE die Sache in ihrer wahren Gestalt. Aber dann schnell! schnell! Rette!
rette dich! - Leb' wohl! LaE deiner Aufmerksamkeit nichts entgehen: wie viel
Mannschaft er mit bringt, wie er die Stadt besetzt, wie deine Freunde gefaEt
sind. Gieb mir Nachricht - Egmont!100
EGMONT. Was willst du?
[108] ORANIEN. ihn bey der Handfassend: LaE dich iiberreden! Geh mit!
EGMONT. Wie? Thranen, Oranien?
ORANIEN. Einen Verlohrnen zu beweinen, ist auch mannlich.
EGMONT. Du wahnst mich verlohren?
ORANIEN. Du bist's. Bedenke! Dir bleibt nur eine kurze Frist. Lebe wohl. ab
EGMONT. allein DaE andrer Menschen Gedanken [109] solchen Einflufi auf
uns haben! Mir war' es nie eingekommen; und dieser Mann tragt seine Sorg-
lichkeit in mich heriiber. - Weg! - Das ist ein fremdes Tropfen in meinem
Blute. Gute Natur, wirf ihn wieder heraus! und von meiner Stirn die sinnenden
Runzeln wegzubaden, giebt es ja wohl noch ein freundliches Mittel.
Ende des ersten Acts.101

57 Egmont. Ein Trauerspiel in dreyAufaigen
[no] Actus II.
Strafie.™
Scene i^
Jetter. Zimmermeister.
JETTER. He! pst! he! Nachbar, ein Wort!

ZIMMERMEISTER. Geh deines Pfads und sey ruhig.
JETTER. Nur ein Wort. Niches neues?
ZIMMERMEISTER. Nichts, als dafi uns von neuem zu reden verboten ist.
JETTER. Wie?
[in] ZIMMERMEISTER. Tretet hier ans Haus an. Hiitet Euch! der Herzog von
Alba hat gleich bey seiner Ankunft einen Befehl ausgehen lassen, dadurch zwey
oder drey, die auf der Strafie zusammen sprechen des Hochverraths ohne Unter-
suchung schuldig erklart sind.
JETTER. O weh!
ZIMMERMEISTER. Bey ewiger Gefangenschaft ist verboten, von Staatssachen zu
reden.
JETTER. O unsre gute, alte Verfassung!104
[112] ZIMMERMEISTER. Und bey Todesstrafe soil niemand die Handlungen der
Regierung mifibilligen.
JETTER. O unsre Kopfe!
ZIMMERMEISTER. Und mit grofien Versprechen, werden Vater, Miitter, Kinder,
Verwandte, Freunde, Dienstbothen eingeladen, was in dem innersten des Hau-
ses vorgeht, bey dem besonders niedergesetzten Gerichte zu ofFenbaren.
JETTER. Gehn wir nach Hause.
[113] ZIMMERMEISTER. Und den Folgsamen ist versprochen, dafi sie weder am
Leibe noch Ehre, noch Vermogen einige Krankung erdulden sollen.
JETTER. Wie gnadig! War mir's doch gleich weh, wie der Herzog in die Stadt
kam. Seit der Zeit ist mir's, als wann der Himmel mit einem schwarzen Flor
iiberzogen, und hinge so tief herunter, dafi man sich biiken mufite, um nicht
{daran} zu stofien.
ZIMMERMEISTER. Und wie haben dir seine Soldaten ge-[ii4]fallen? Gelt, das ist
eine andere Art von Krebsen, wie wir sie sonst gewohnt waren.
JETTER. Pfuy! Es schniirt einem das Herz ein, wenn man so einen Haufen die
Gassen hinab marschieren sieht. Kerzengerad mit unverwandtem Blick, ein*°5
Tritt so viel ihrer sind. Und wenn sie auf der Schildwache stehen, und du gehst
vor einem vorbey, ist's, als wenn er dich durch und durch sehen wollte, und
sieht so steif und murrisch aus, dafi du auf alien Ecken einen Zuchtmeister zu
sehen glaubst. Sie thun mir gar nicht wohl. [115] Unsre Militz war doch noch
ein lustig Volck; sie nahmen sich was heraus, standen mit ausgekratschten
Beinen da, hatten den Huth iiber'm Ohre, lebten und lieKen leben: diese Kerle
aber sind wie Maschinen, in denen ein Teufel sitzt.
ZIMMERMEISTER. Wenn so ciner ruft: "Halt!" und anschlagt, meynst du, man
hielte?
JETTER. Ich ware gleich des Todes.
ZIMMERMEISTER. Gehn wir nach Hause.
[116] JETTER. Es wird nicht gut. Adieu.
Scene 2.
Vorige. Soest.
SOEST. Freunde! Genossen!

ZIMMERMEISTER. Still! lafo uns gehen.
SOEST. WiEt Ihr!
JETTER. Nur zu viel!
SOEST. Die Regentin ist weg.
[117] JETTER. Nun gnad' uns Gott.
ZIMMERMEISTER. Die hielt uns noch.
SOEST. Auf einmal und in der Stille. Sie konnte sich mil dem Herzog nicht ver-
tragen; sie Iie6 dem Adel melden, sie komme wieder. Niemand glaubts.
ZIMMERMEISTER. Gott verzeihs dem Adel, daf? er uns diese neue Geissel iiber
den Hals gelassen hat. Sie hatten es abwenden konnen, unsre Privilegien sind
hin.106
[118] JETTER. Um Gotteswillen nichts von Privilegien. Ich wittre den Geruch
von einem Exekutionsmorgen; die Sonne will nicht hervor, die Nebel sunken.
SOEST. Oranien ist auch weg.
ZIMMERMEISTER. So sind wir denn ganz verlassen!
SOEST. Graf Egmont ist noch da.
JETTER. Gott sey dank! Starken ihn alle Heiligen, da6 er sein bestes thut; der ist
allein was vermogend.
[119] Scene 3.
Vorige. Vansen.
VANSEN. Find ich endlich ein paar, die noch nicht untergekrochen sind?
JETTER. Thut uns den Gefallen und geht fiirbafi.
VANSEN. Ihr seyd nicht hoflich.
ZIMMERMEISTER. Es ist gar keine Zeit zu Komplimenten. Juckt euch der Buk-
kel wieder?
VANSEN. Fragt einen Soldaten nach seinen [120] Wunden. Wenn ich auf
Schlage was gegeben hatte, ware sein' Tage nichts aus mir geworden.
59 Egmont. Bin Trauenpiei in drey Aujziigen
JETTER. Es kann ernstlicher werden.

VANSEN. Ihr spiirt von dem Gewitter, das aufsteigt, eine erbarmliche Mattigkeit
in den Gliedern, scheints.
ZIMMERMEISTER. Deine Glieder werden sich bald wo anders eine Motion ma-
chen, wenn du nicht ruhst.
VANSEN. Armselige Mause, die gleich verzweifeln, [121] wenn der Hausherr eine
neue Katze anschafft! nur ein bischen anders; aber wir treiben unser Wesen vor
wie nach {nach wie vor}, seyd nur ruhig.
ZIMMERMEISTER. Du bist ein verwegenerlsMgenichtsl
VANSEN. Gevatter Tropfl Lafi du den Herzog nur gewahren. Der alte Kater sieht
aus, als wenn er Teufel statt Mause gefressen hatte und konnte sie nun nicht ver-
dauen. Lafit ihn nur erst; er mufi essen, trinken, schlafen, wie andere Menschen.
Es ist mir nicht [122] bange, wenn wir unsre Zeit recht nehmen.107 Im Anfange
gehts rasch; nachher wird er auch finden, dafi in der Speysekammer unter den
Speckseiten besser leben ist, und des Nachts zu ruhn, als auf dem Fruchtboden
einzelne Mauschen zu erlisten. Geht nur, ich kenne die Statthalter.
ZIMMERMEISTER. Was so einem Menschen alles durchgeht! Wenn ich in mei-
nem Leben so etwas gesagt hatte, hielt ich mich keine Minute fur sicher.
[123] VANSEN. Seyd nur ruhig. Gott im Himmel erfahrt nichts von Euch Wiir-
mern, geschweige der Regent.
JETTER. Lastermaul.
VANSEN. Ich weif? andere, denen es besser ware, sie hatten statt ihres Helden-
muths eine Schneiderader im Leibe.
ZIMMERMEISTER. Was wollt Ihr damit sagen?
VANSEN. Hm! den Grafen meyn ich.
[124] JETTER. Egmont! Was soil der furchten?
VANSEN. Ich bin ein armer Teufel und konnte ein ganzes Jahr leben, von dem
was er in einem Abend verliert. Und doch konnt er mir sein Einkommen eines
ganzen Jahres geben, wenn er meinen Kopf eine Viertelstunde hatte.
ZIMMERMEISTER. Du denkst dich was rechts. Egmonts Haare sind gescheiter
als dein Him.
VANSEN. Red't Ihr! Aber nicht feiner. Die [125] Herren betriigen sich am ersten.
Er sollte nicht trauen.
JETTER. Was er schwatzt! So ein Herr!
VANSEN. Eben weil er kein Schneider ist.
JETTER. Ungewaschen Maul!
VANSEN. Dem wollt ich cure Courage nur eine Stunde in die Glieder wiin-
schen, daf? sie ihm da Unruhe machte und ihn so lange neckte, bis er aus der
Stadt miifee.
[126] JETTER. Ihr redet recht unverstandig; er ist so sicher wie der Stern am
Himmel.
VANSEN. Hast du nie einen sich schneuzen gesehen? Weg war er!
ZIMMERMEISTER. Wer will ihm denn was thun?
VAN SEN. Wer will? Willst du's etwa hindern? Willst du einen Aufruhr wagen,
wenn sie ihn gefangen nehmen?
JETTER. Ach!
VANSEN. Wollt Ihr euer{e} Rippen fur ihn wagen?
[127] SOEST «W ZIMMERMEISTER. ZUgkich Eh!
VANSEN. sie nachaffendVtf. Ach! Oh! Verwundert Euch durch's ganze Alphabet!
So ist's und bleibt's! Gott bewahre ihn!
ZIMMERMEISTER. Ich erschrecke iiber Eure Unverschamtheit. So ein edler,
rechtschaffner Herr sollte was zu befiirchten haben?
VANSEN. Der Schelm sitzt iiberall im Vortheil. Auf dem Armen=Sunderstuhlchen
hat er den Richter zum Narren; auf dem [128] Richtstuhl macht er den Inquisiten
mit Lust zum Verbrechen. Ich habe so ein Protokoll abzuschreiben gehabt, wo der
Kommisarius schwer Lob und Geld vom Hofe erhielte, weil er einen ehrlichen
Teufel, an den man wollte, zum Schelmen verhort hatte.
ZIMMERMEISTER. Das ist wieder frisch gelogen. Was wollen sie denn heraus
verhoren, wenn einer unschuldig ist?
VANSEN. O Spatzenkopf! Wo nichts heraus zu verhoren ist, da verhort man hin-
ein. [129] Ehrlichkeit macht unbesonnen, auch wohl trotzig. Da fragt man erst
sachte weg, und der Gefangene ist stolz auf seine Unschuld, wie sie s heifien, und
sagt alles geradezu, was ein Verstandiger verbarge. Dann macht der Inquisitor aus
den Antworten wieder Fragen, und paEt ja auf, wo irgend ein Widerspriichelchen
erscheinen will; da kniipft er seinen Strick an; und lafit sich der dumme Teufel be-
treten, dafi er hier etwas zu viel, dort etwas zu wenig gesagt, oder wohl gar, aus
Gott weifi was fur einer Grille einen [130] Umstand verschwiegen hat, auch wohl
irgend an einem Ende sich hat schreken lassen;108 dann sind wir auf dem rechten
Wege! Und ich versichere Euch! mit mehr Sorgfalt suchen die Bettelweiber nicht
die Lumpen aus dem Kehrigt, als so ein Schelmenfabrikant aus kleinen, schiefen,
verschobenen, verriickten, verdruckten, geschlossenen, bekannten, gelaugneten
Anzeigen und Umstanden sich endlich einen strohlumpenen Vogelscheu zusam-
men kiinstelt, um wenigstens seinen Inquisiten in Effigie hangen zu konnen. [131]
Und Gott mag der arme Teufel danken, wenn er sich noch kann hangen sehen.
JETTER. Der hat eine gelaufige Zunge.
ZIMMERMEISTER. Mit Fliegen mag das angehen. Die Wespen lachen Eures
Gespinstes.
VANSEN. Nachdem die Spinnen sind. Seht, der lange Herzog hat euch so ein
rein Ansehn von einer Kreutzspinne; nicht einer dickbauchiger, die sind weni-
ger schlimm, aber so einer langfiifiigen, [132] schmalleibigen, die vom FraSe
nicht feist wird und recht diinne Faden zieht, aber desto zahere.
ZIMMERMEISTER. 109 Egmont ist Ritter des goldenen Vlieses, wer darf Hand an
ihn legen? Nur von seines Gleichen kann er gerichtet werden, nur vom
gesammten Orden. Dein boses Maul, dein boses Gewissen verfuhren dich zu
solchem Geschwatz.
VANSEN. Will ich ihm darum iibel? Mir kann's recht seyn. Es ist ein trefflicher
Herr. Ein Paar meiner guten Freunde, [133] die anderwarts schon waren gehan-
61 Egmont. Bin Trauerspiel in drey Aufzugen
gen {gehangt} worden, hat er mit einem Buckelvoll Schlage verabschiedet. Nun
geht! geht! Ich rath' es Euch selbst. leiser sprechend Dort seh' ich wieder eine
Runde antreten; die sehen nicht aus, als wenn sie sobald Briiderschaft mit uns
trinken wiirden. Wir wollen's abwarten und nur sachte zusehen. Ich hab' ein
Paar Nichten und einen Gevatter Schenkwirth; wenn sie von denen gekostet
haben, und werden dann nicht zahm; so sind sie ausgepichte Wolfe.
Sie schleichen sich auf verscbieden Wegenfort. {=Patrouille} [134] Aus dem Hinter-
grunde tritt die spanische Patrouille, undzieht sich vor bis tiber die Mitte des Thea-
ters. Hier halt sie, schliefit einen weiten Halbkreis um den Anfuhrer, der jedem
durch Zeichen mit der Hand seinen Fasten anweiftt. Aufseinen Commandowinck
treten sie wieder aus einander, und ziehen in vier Haufen aufeben so viel verschie-
denen Wegen ah. Alles geschieht in der groftten Stille und Ordnung und mit abge-
messenem langsamem Schritt.110
Scene 4.ni
Burgerliches Zimmer. Vorne ein [135] Tisch mit drey Stiihlen
Klarchen. Ihre Mutter.
KLARCHEN. Klarchen kommt aus der Hinterthiir, setzt sich an den Tisch, und
macht Anstalt, Gam. an zwey Stiihlen aufouwinden. Gleich darauf kommt ihre
Mutter. Man hort im Nebenzimmer ein Instrument spielen: dieser Auftritt wird
leise gesprochen.
MUTTER. Du lafit ihn allein, Klarchen - das wird ihn kranken.

KLARCHEN. Verdenkt mir's nicht, seine Gegenwart [136] thut mir wehe. Ich
weiE immer nicht, wie ich mich gegen ihn betragen soil. Ich habe Unrecht ge-
gen ihn, und mich nagts am Herzen, dafi er{s) so lebendig fiihlt - Kann ichs
doch nicht andern.
MUTTER. Er ist ein so treuer Bursche.
KLARCHEN. Ich kanns nicht lassen. Ich muf? ihm freundlich begegnen. Meine
Hand driickt sich oft unversehens zu, wenn die seine mich so leise und liebevoll
anfaSt - Ich mache mir Vorwiirfe, daE ich ihn betriige, da£ ich in seinem [137]
Herzen eine vergebliche Hoffnung nahre. Ich bin iibel daran, weii? Gott, ich be-
triig' ihn nicht. Ich will nicht, daS er hoffen soil, und ich kann ihn doch nicht
verzweiflen lassen.
Man hort aufzu spielen.

MUTTER. Das ist nicht gut. -
BRACKENBURG. an der ThiirMan ruft Euch Mutter.
Mutter geht ab.

Scene $.
Brackenburg. Klarchen.
BRACKENBURG. kommt still und traurig aus dem [138] Hinterzimmer, und stellt
sich auf die entgegengesetzte Seite von Klarchen, welche auf ihre Arbeit sieht. Er
betrachtet sie eine Zeit lang ohne zu reden. Ihr verschmaht meine Dienste, Klar-
chen. Sonst war es mein Arm, Euch das Garn zu halten beym Aufwinden. Auch
daraus bin ich verdrangt wie aus allem.
KLARCHEN. immer an der Arbeit Seyd nicht wunderlich Brackenburg. Das 1st
keine Beschaftigung fur Euch.
BRACKENBURG. Sonst war sie's.
[139] KLARCHEN. Sonst! Die Zeiten sind vorbey.
BRACKENBURG. Das fiihl ich.
KLARCHEN. Versteht mich nicht unrecht. - Ich sehe Euch nicht gern als Weib
beschaftigt, wenn Euch alles zuruft ein Mann zu seyn.
BRACKENBURG. grubelndY)it Zeiten sind vorbey!
KLARCHEN. Was war das auf der Strafie? Horch!
BRACKENBURG. Was wird's seyn. Es sind die spanischen Patrouillen, die ihre
Runde halten.
[140] KLARCHEN. Seitdem dieser spanische Herzog in unsern Mauern ist, jagt
jedes Gerausch mir Schrecken ein - indem sie cms Fenster tritt Was fiir finstre,
feierliche Gesichter! Mich iiberlaufts kaJt, wenn ich sie ansehe, und es regt sich
auch nichts in den Strafien. Kein lustiges Lied hort man mehr. Es ist alles wie
ausgestorben.
BRACKENBURG. Es wird noch leerer werden.
KLARCHEN. wieder an ihre Arbeit gehend So gleichgtiltig sagt Ihr das? - Brak-
kenburg,}!} [141] ich erkenne Euch nicht mehr: Sonst, wenn vom Vaterland die
Rede war, flofi es Euch von dem Herzen und von der Zunge, und Eure Kiihn-
heit war kaum zu bandigen. - Und jetzt. -
BRACKENBURG. Gebt mir meine alte Hoffnungen wieder, und ich werde wieder
der Alte seyn - Was kiimmert mich die allgemeine Noth? Ihr wil?t am besten -111
{Ich erkenne Euch nicht mehr.}
KLARCHEN. Mufi ich, das Madchen, Euch erinnern, was Ihr dem Vaterlande,
was Ihr Euch selber schuldig seyd? Was kanns hel=[i4i]fen, dafi Helden wie der
Oranien - wie Graf Egmont fiir unsre Freyheit sich ritterlich wehren, wenn Ih-
nen der Burger nicht die Hand dazu bietet — nicht den Arm dazu leihen will?
O, warum bin ich kein Mann, da£ ich ihren Fahnen folgen, ihren Ruhm, ihre
Gefahren mit Ihnen theilen konnte!"3
BRACKENBURG. Klarchen, Ihr wifit, was ein Winck von Euch aus mir machen
kann. Sprecht nur ein Wort - ein Wort wie ehemals - und Ihr sollt sehen, was
ich vermag, was ich unternehme."4
[143] KLARCHEN. Seht Brackenburg, ich mochte Euch aufwecken - Euch be-
schaftigen — mochte Euch so gern Euch selbst wiedergeben. Was wollt Ihr hier?
63 Egmont. Em Trauerspiel in drey Aufeiigen
Warum, da alles um Euch her in Bewegung ist, miifiige — verlohrne Stunden

hier verbringen? — Gewinnt es iiber Euch! Ermannet Euch! Und hort — er-
scheint nie wider so vor mir - so nie wieder - Es ist heraus, was mich langst auf
dem Herzen driickte - Hort Ihr! - Ihr hort nicht -"5 Was habt Ihr? Was wol
Ihr mit diesem Flaschchen? Er hat tiefiinnig zugehort, und in Gedanken eine
[144] Phiole aus der Tasche gezogen. Er besinnt sich und will sie verbergen, Kldr-
chen ist rascher, und reifit sie ihm weg. Nach einem bedeutungsvollen Stillschweigen
Brackenburg! Ihr konnt mit dem Tode spielen?
BRACKENBURG. Wie Ihr mit mir. nach einer Pause weicher — Also ist es doch
wahr? Es ist,"6 Klarchen?
KLARCHEN. Was habt Ihr? Sammelt Euch - Ich muK fort. Meine Mutter ruft.
willgehen
BRACKENBURG. Ist's moglich? So konnt Ihr von mir [145] scheiden? Ohne ein
freundliches Wort der Hoffnung? Ohne mir zu sagen, dafi ich wiederkommen
soil?
KLARCHEN. Fafit Euch! Ihr sollt wiederkommen - oft - aber auf die Phiole zei-
gendso etwas nicht mehr, wenn Ihr mich wieder sehen wollt. geht ab
Scene 6.
BRACKENBURG allein
in grower BewegungSit hat Recht! Sie erkennt mich nicht mehr — ich erkenne mich
selbst nicht mehr - aber von Ihr sollte ich diesen Vbrwurf nicht horen! - [146]
Ungliicklicher! So wenig riihrt dich der Jammer - die immer wachsende Nodi
deines Vaterlandes, und gleich ist dir Landsmann oder Spanier, und wer regiert
und wer recht hat? -1'7 War ich doch ein anderer Junge als Schulknabe! - Wenn
da ein Exerzitium aufgegeben war: "Brutus' Rede fur das Vaterland!118 zur Ubung
der Redekunst;" dann war doch immer Fritz der Erste, und der Rektor sagte:
wenn's nur ordentlicher ware, mir nicht alles so iibereinander gestolpert. —"9
damals kocht es und [147] trieblzo - Jetzt schlepp ich {Ich schlepp} mich an den
Augen des Madchens so hin. Kann ich sie doch nicht lassen. Kann sie mich doch
nicht lieben. - Nicht ganz - und halb und nichts! - Ich dulde es nicht langer!121
Sollte es wahr seyn, was mir ein Freund neulich ins Ohr sagte? Dal? sie abends ei-
nen Mann heimlich zu sich einlafit, da sie mich zuchtig immer vor Abend aus
dem Hause treibt. Nein, es ist nicht wahr, es ist eine Luge, eine schandliche ver-
Iaumderi=[i48]sche Luge, Klarchen ist so unschuldig, als ich ungliicklich bin. Sie
hat mich verworfen, hat mich von ihrem Herzen gestofien - und ich soil so fort le-
ben? Ich duld', ich duld' es nicht. - Schon wird mein Vaterland von innerm Zwi-
ste heftiger bewegt, und ich sterbe unter dem Getiimmel nur ab! Ich duld es nicht!
- Wenn die Trompete klingt, ein Schufi fallt, mir fahrts durch Mark und Bein!
Ach! es reitzt nich nicht! es fordert mich nicht, auch mit einzugreifen, mit zu
retten, zu wagen - Elender schimpflicher Zustand. Es ist besser, ich end' auf
einmal. [149] Neulich stiirzt' ich mich ins Wasser, ich sank - aber die geangstigte
Natur war starker; ich fuhlte, dafi ich schwimmen konnte, und rettete mich wider
willen.111 — Konnt ich der Zeiten vergessen, da sie mich liebte, mich zu lieben
schien! — Warum hat mirs Mark und Bein durchdrungen, das Gliick? Und jener
erste Kufi! Jener einzige! - Hier die Handauf den Tisch legendhier waren wir allein
- sie war immer gut undfreundlichgegen mich gewesen - da schien sie sich zu e
weichen — sie sah mich an — alle Sinne gingen mir um, und ich fuhlte ihre Lippen
auf [150] den meinigen. - Und - und nun? - Sie kommt zuriick - Sie darf mi
hier nicht wieder finden.12' geht scbnell ah
Scene 7^
Kldrchen. Ihre Mutter.™*1
MUTTER. So eine Liebe wie Brackenburgs habe ich nie gesehen. Ich glaubte, sie
sey nur in Heldengeschichten.
KLARCHEN. setzt sich wieder an den Tisch, und nimmt eine Arbeit vor: Lied™6
MUTTER, setzt sich zu ikrEr vermuthet deinen [151] Umgang mit Egmont, und
ich glaube, wenn du ihm ein wenig freundlich thatest —
KLARCHEN. Ich hatte ihn gern und will ihn auch noch wohl in der Seele. Ich
hatte ihn heurathen konnen, ware versorgt, und hatte ein ruhiges Leben.
MUTTER. Das ist nun alles durch deine Schuld verscherzt.
KLARCHEN. Ich bin in einer wunderlichen Lage. Wenn ich so nachdenke, wie
es gegangen ist, weiS ichs wohl, und weiG es [152.] nicht. Und dann darf ich
Egmont nur wieder ansehen, wird mir alles sehr begreiflich. Ach, was ist's fur
ein Mann! alle Provinzen bethen ihn an, und ich in seinem Arm sollte nicht das
gliicklichste Geschopf von der Welt seyn?
MUTTER. Wie wird's in der Zukunft warden?
KLARCHEN. Ach, ich frage nur, ob er mich liebt; und obli7 er mich liebt? ist das
eine Frage?118
MUTTER. Man hat nichts als Herzensangst mit seinen Kindern. Wie das ausge-
hen [153] wird. Immer Sorge und Kummer! Es geht nicht gut aus! Du hast dich
ungliicklich gemacht! mich ungliicklich gemacht!
KLARCHEN. gelassen Ihr liefiet es doch im Anfange.
MUTTER. Leider war ich zu gut, bin immer zu gut.IZ9
KLARCHEN. Wenn Egmont vorbeyritt und ich ans Fenster lief, schaltet Ihr
mich da? Tratet Ihr nicht selbst ans Fenster? Wenn er herauf sah, lachelte,
nickte, [154] mich griifite, war es Euch zuwider? Fandet Ihr Euch nicht selbst in
Eurem Tochter geehrt?
MUTTER. Mache mir noch Vorwiirfe!
KLARCHEN. geruhrt'Wenn er nun ofter die Strafie karn, und wir wohl fiihlten,
dafi er um meinetwillen den Weg machte, bemerktet Ihr's nicht selbst mit
heimlicher Freude? Rieft Ihr mich ab, wenn ich hinter den Scheiben stand und
ihn erwartete?130
MUTTER. Dachte ich, dafi es so weit kommen [155] sollte?

KLARCHEN. mit stockender Stimme und zuriickgehaltenen Thranen Und wie er
uns Abends, in den Mantel eingehiillt, bey der Lampe iiberraschte, wer war ge-
schaftig, ihn zu empfangen; da ich auf meinem Stuhl wie angekettet und stau-
nend sitzen blieb?
MUTTER. Und konnte ich furchten, daS diese ungliickliche Liebe das
kluge Klarchen so bald hinreifien wiirde. Ich muf? es nun tragen, daf? meine
Tochter -
KLARCHEN. mit ausbrechenden Thranen Mutter! [156] Ihr wollt nun! Ihr habt
Eure Freude, mich zu angstigen.
MUTTER, weinend Weine noch gar! mache mich noch elender durch deine
Betriibnifi. 1st mir's nicht Kummer genug, dal? meine einzige Tochter ein ver-
worfenes Geschopf ist?
KLARCHEN. iiufitehend und ka.lt Verworfen! Egmonts Geliebte, verworfen? -
Welche Fiirstin neidete nicht das arme BGarchen um den Platz an seinem Her-
zen! O Mutter! - meine Mutter, so redetet Ihr sonst nicht. Liebe Mutter, seyd
gut! - Das Volck, was das denkt, [157] die Nachbarn, was die murmeln - diese
Stube, dieses kleine Haus ist ein Himmel, seit Egmonts Liebe drinn wohnt.
MUTTER. Man mul? ihm hold seyn! das ist wahr. Er ist immer so freundlich,
frey und offen.
KLARCHEN. Es ist keine falsche Ader an ihm. Seht, Mutter, und er ist doch der
gro6e Egmont. Und wenn er zu mir kommt, wie er so lieb ist, so gut! wie er mir
seinen Stand, seine Tapferkeit gerne verbarge! wie er um mich besorgt ist! so nur
Mensch, nur Freund und [158] Liebster.
MUTTER. Kommt er wohl heute?
KLARCHEN. Habt Ihr mich nicht oft ans Fenster gehen sehen? Habt Ihr nicht
bemerckt, wie ich horche, wenn's an der Thiir rauscht? - Ob ich schon weiK,
dafi er vor Abend nicht kommt, vermuth' ich ihn doch jeden Augenblick, von
Morgens an, wenn ich aufstehe. War ich nur ein Bube und konnte immer mit
ihm gehen, zu Hofe und uberall bin! Konnt ihm die Fahne nachtragen in [159]
der Schlacht! zweytes Lied131
MUTTER. Du hast doch nichts im Kopfe als deine Liebe. Vergafiest du nur nicht
alles iiber das Eine. Den Brackenburg solltest du in Ehren halten. Er kann dich
noch einmal gliicklich machen.
KLARCHEN. Er?
MUTTER. O ja! kommt eine Zeit! - Ihr Kinder seht nichts voraus, und iiber-
horcht unsre Erfahrungen. Die Jugend und die schone Liebe, alles hat sein
Ende, [160] und es kommt eine Zeit, wo man Gott dankt, wenn man irgend wo
unterkommen kann.
KLARCHEN. schandert, schweigt und fdhrt auf Mutter, lafk die Zeit kommen,
wie den Tod. Dran vorzudenken ist schreckhaft! - Und wenn er kommt? wenn
wir miissen - dann - wollen wir uns geberden wie wir konnen - Egmont, ic
dich entbehren! in Thranen Nein, es ist nicht moglich, nicht moglich!
Scene 8.
Egmont. Vorige.
[161] EGMONT. In einem Reitermantel, den Huth ins GesichtgedrucktKlaichenl

KLARCHEN . thut eiwn Schrey, fdhrt zuruck Egmont! sie eilt aufihn zu Egmont! sie
umarmtihn undruhtan ihm O du guter, lieber, siifier! Kommst du? bist du da?
EGMONT. Guten Abend Mutter!
MUTTER. Gott griifi Euch edler Herr! meine Kleine ist fast vergangen, dafi ihr
so lang ausbleibt; sie hat wieder den [162] ganzen Tag von Euch geredet und ge-
sungen.
EGMONT. Ihr gebt mir doch ein Nachtessen?
MUTTER. Zuviel Gnade. Wenn wir nur etwas hatten.
KLARCHEN. Freylich! Seyd nur ruhig Mutter; ich habe schon alles darauf einge-
richtet, ich habe etwas zubereitet. Verachtet1*1 {Verrathet} mich nicht, Mutter.
MUTTER. Schmal genug.
KLARCHEN. Wartet nur! und dann denk ich: wenn [163] er bey mir ist, hab' ich
gar keinen Hunger; da soilte er auch keinen grofien Apetit haben, wenn ich bey
ihm bin.
EGMONT. Meynst du?
KLARCHEN. stampft mit dem Fufle undkehrt sich unwillig um
EGMONT. Wie ist dir?
KLARCHEN. Wie seyd Ihr heute so kalt! Ihr habt mir noch keinen Kufi angebo-
then. Warum habt Ihr die Arme in den Mantel gewickelt wie ein Wochenkind?
[164] ziemt keinem Soldaten noch Liebhaber, die Arme eingewickelt zu haben.
EGMONT. Zu Zeiten, Liebchen, zu Zeiten. Wenn der Soldat auf der Lauer
steht, und dem Feind etwas ablisten mochte, da nimmt er sich zusammen, fafit
sich selbst in seine Arme und kaut seinen Anschlag reif. Und ein Liebhaber -
MUTTER. Wollt Ihr Euch nicht setzen? Es Euch nicht bequem machen? Ich
mufi in die Kiiche; Klarchen denkt an nichts, wenn Ihr da seyd. Ihr miifit fur
lieb nehmen.
EGMONT. Euer guter Wille ist die beste Wiirze.
[165] Mutter gehtab.
Scene 9.
Egmont. Klarchen.
KLARCHEN. Und was ware denn meine Liebe?

EGMONT. So viel du willst.
KLARCHEN. Vergleicht sie, wenn Ihr das Herz habt.
67 Egmont. Ein Trauerspiel in drey Aufeiigen
EGMONT. Zuforderst also. Er wirft den Mantel ab und steht in einem prdchtigen
Kleideda.
[166] KLARCHEN. O je!
EGMONT. Nun hab' ich die Arme frey. Er herztsie.
KLARCHEN. Lafit! Ihr verderbt Euch. Sie trittzurtick. Wie prachtig! da darf ich
Euch nicht anriihren.
EGMONT. Bist du zufrieden? Ich versprach dir, einmal spanisch zu kommen.
KLARCHEN. Ich bath Euch zeither nicht mehr darum, [167] ich dachte, Ihr
wolltet nicht - Ach und das goldne Vliefi!
EGMONT. Da siehst du's nun.
KLARCHEN. Das hat dir der Kayser umgehangt?
EGMONT. Ja, Kind! und Kette und Zeichen geben dem, der sie tragt, die edel-
sten Freyheiten. Ich erkenne auf Erden keinen Richter iiber meine Handlungen
als den Grofimeister des Ordens mit dem versammelten Kapitel der Ritter.
[168] KLARCHEN. O du diirftest die ganze Welt iiber dich richten lassen. - das
Zeug ist gar zu herrlich, und die Passement=Arbeit! und das Reiche133 - Man
weif? nicht, wo man anfangen soil.
EGMONT. Sieh dich nur satt.
KLARCHEN. Und das goldne Vliefi! Ihr erzahltet mir die Geschichte und sagtet:
es sey ein Zeichen alles Grofien und Kostbaren, was man mit Miih und Fleif?
verdient und erwirbt. Es ist sehr [169] kostbar — Ich kanns deiner Liebe verglei-
chen - Ich trage sie eben so am Herzen - und hernach -
EGMONT. Was willst du sagen?
KLARCHEN. Hernach vergleicht sich's wieder nicht.
EGMONT. Wie so?
KLARCHEN. Ich habe sie nicht mit Miihe und Fleifi erworben, nicht verdient.
EGMONT. In der Liebe ist es anders. Du ver=[i7o]dienst sie, weil du nicht darum
bewirbst - und die Leute erhalten sie auch meist allein, die nicht darnach jagen.
KLARCHEN. Hast du das von dir abgenommen? Hast du diese stolze An-
merckung iiber dich selbst gemacht. Du, den alles Volck liebt?
EGMONT. Hatt' ich mir etwas far sie gethan! Konnt' ich etwas fur sie thun! - Es
ist Ihr guter Wille, mich zu lieben.
KLARCHEN. Lai? mich dich halten. Laf? mich dir [171] in die Augen sehen; alles
darinn finden, Trost und Hoffhung und Freude und Kummer sie umarmt ihn
undsiehtihn an Sag' mir! sage! ich begreife nicht! bist du Egmont? Der Graf Eg-
mont. Der grofie Egmont, der so viel Aufsehen macht, von dem in den Zeitun-
gen steht, an dem die Provinzen hangen?134
EGMONT. Nein, Klarchen, das bin ich nicht.
KLARCHEN. Wie?
EGMONT. Siehst du, Klarchen! - Lai? mich sitzen! - [172] Er setzt sich, sie kniet
vor ihm auf einem Schemel, legt ihreArme auf semen Schoos undsieht ihn anjener
Egmont ist ein verdriefilicher kaltet Egmont, der an sich halten, bald dieses bald
jenes Gesicht machen mufi; geplagt, verkannt, verwickelt ist, wenn ihn die
Leute fiiir froh und frohlich halten; geliebt von einem Volcke, daE nicht weif?
was es will; geehrt und in die Hohe getragen, von einer Menge, mit der nichts
anzufangen ist; umgeben von Freunden, denen er sich nicht iiberlassen darf; be-
obachtet [173] von Menschen, die ihm auf alle Weise beykommen mogten; ar-
beitend und sich bemiihend, oft ohne Zweck, meist ohne Lohn135 - o lafi mich
schweigen, wie es dem ergeht, wie dem zu Muthe ist. Aber dieser, Klarchen, der
ist ruhig, offen, gliicklich, geliebt und gekannt, von dem besten Herzen, das
auch er ganz kennt und mit voller Liebe und Zutrauen an das seine driickt. Er
umarmt sie. Das ist dein Egmont!
KLARCHEN. So lafi mich sterben! Die Welt hat keine Freuden auf diese.1'6
[174] Scene w^1
Egmont. Klarchen. Richard.
RICHARD. Werdet nicht ungehalten Herr, dafi ich noch so spat, dafi ich an die-
sem Orte Euch beunruhige — So eben schickte der Statthalter — Ihr seyd auf
Morgenfruh zu ihm gefordert.
KLARCHEN. Zu dem spanischen Herzog - Ach Gott.
EGMONT. Auf Morgen - Warum sagst du mir das noch heute?
RICHARD. Vergebt - Ich glaubte - es konnte [175] seyn - Ihr mochtet Vorberei
tungen zu treffen haben.
EGMONT. Vorbereitungen? -
RICHARD. Der Herzog laSt Euch fordern - der Herzog von Alba -
EGMONT. Nun! was denn weiter? - Er wird den Staatsrath versammeln - er
wird uns des Konigs Willen bekannt machen — den ich nicht spat genug ver-
nehmen kann.
RICHARD. beunruhigtWenn es nur das ware -
[176] KLARCHEN. Gott im Himmel!
EGMONT. Was sollte es sonst seyn - Verlafi uns Traumer - Sieh, wie du mir di
Kleine erschreckt hast.
KLARCHEN. zu EgmontHot ihn - ich bitte dich - Hor' ihn.
RICHARD. Wir haben die ganze Nacht zu unserm Vortheil - Entschliefit Euch
- Alle Eure Diener sind bereit - Ihr konnt Antwerpen erreicht haben, ehe ma
Euch hier vermifit.
[177] EGMONT. Fliehen soil ich? - Bist du bey Sinnen? - Fliehen - vor we?
und weswegcn?
RICHARD, mit BedeutungWeil der Oranier - weil alles, was sich selbst liebt, ge-
flohen ist.
KLARCHEN. Der Oranier geflohen - und davon sagtest du mir nichts - O ge
wiK! da ist alles zu befurchten.1'8
69 Egmont. Bin Trauerspielin drey Aujzugen
EGMONT. Oranien ist nach seiner Provinz, wohin sein Amt ihn rief- das mei-
nige befiehlt mir, hier zu bleiben — [178] hier — wo auch mein Herz ist und
meine Liebe. sie umarmend
RICHARD, dringender einfallendUnd ein gewisser Tod, wenn Ihr verwegen und
allein Euch in des Tigers Hohle stiirzt -
KLARCHEN. Ach nein! Nein, du mufit fort - du muf?t! Wo sich Oranien mit
seiner List nicht sicher weifi, bist du mit deiner Redlichkeit verlohren.139
EGMONT. Bedenke was du sprichtst! Vor diesem Alba soil ich mich erkriechen,
durch [179] meine Flucht des Stolzen Obermuth noch mehren? Und meine
Klara ist's, die mir dies rath? O denke nicht so klein von deinem Egmont! Ich
bleibe - werde horen, was er will! Klarchen umarmendLiebchen, lebe wohl! Auf
wieder sehen fur morgen. will gehert*0
KLARCHEN. Fur Morgen - Ach sie zittert und willsinken
EGMONT. Was ist dir? - Fasse dich.
KLARCHEN. sinkt ihm an die Brust Ich weift es [180] nicht. - Mir ist so bang -
so schwer, als ob ich dich - zum letzten mal -
EGMONT. unwilligzu Richard Mit deiner albernen Besorgnifi! - Komm zu dir,
Liebe! Sieh, dein Egmont lebt, - wird leben, was die Tyranney auch spinnt. Des
Volckes Liebe — meine gute Sache, verbiirgen jedes Haar auf meinem Haupt —
Sieh da die Mutter -
Scene n.
Vorige. Kldrchens Mutter.
MUTTER. Klarchen! Gott! was giebts?

[181] EGMONT. Beruhige sie Mutter! - Richard, komm! geht
KLARCHEN. ruft ihm nach Egmont!
EGMONT. Klarchen! kehrt noch einmal zuruck, umarmt sie, dann beyde aufver-
schiedene Seiten ab141
Scene 12^
Zimmer in einem Pallast mit zwey Thiiren versehen
Silva. Gomez
begegnen einander
SILVA. Hast du die Befehle des Herzogs aus=[i82]gerichtet?

GOMEZ. Piinktlich. Alle tagliche Runden sind beordert, zur bestimmten Zeit
an verschiedenen Platzen einzutrefren, die ich ihnen bezeichnet habe; sie
jo Images of Goethe through Schiller's Egmont
gehen indefi, wie gewohnlich durch die Nacht, um Ordnung zu erhalten.

Keiner wei6 von dem andern; jeder glaubt, der Befehl gehe ihn allein an,
und in einem Augenblick kann alsdann der Kordon gezogen, und alle
Zugange zum Pallast konnen besetzt seyn.143 Weiftt du die Ursache dieses
Befehls?
[183] SILVA. Ich bin gewohnt, blindlings zu gehorchen. Und wem gehorcht sichs
leichter als dem Herzoge? Da bald der Ausgang beweifit, dafi er recht befohlen
hat.
GOMEZ.144 Gut! gut! Auch scheint es mir kein Wunder, dafi du so verschlos-
sen und einsylbig wirst wie er, da du immer um ihn seyn mufit. Mir kommt
es fremde vor, da ich den leichteren italianischen Dienst gewohnt bin. An
Treue und Gehorsam bin ich der Alte; aber ich habe mir das Schwatzen und
Raisonniren angewohnt. Ihr schweigt [184] alle und lafit es Euch wohl
seyn. Der Herzog gleicht mir einem ehrnen Thurm ohn Pforte, wozu die
Besatzung Fliigel hatte. Neulich hort ich ihn bey Tafel von einem frohen
freundlichen Menschen sagen: er sey wie eine schlechte Schenke mit einem
ausgesteckten Brandweinzeichen, um MiiKigganger, Bettler und Diebe her-
einzulocken.
SILVA.I45 Und hat er uns nicht schweigend hieher gefiihrt?
GOMEZ. Dagegen ist nichts zu sagen. GewiK! [185] Wer Zeuge seiner Klugheit
war, wie er die Armee aus Italien hieherbrachte, der hat etwas gesehen. Wie er
sich durch Freund und Feind, durch die Franzosen und Schweizer gleichsam
durchschmiegte, die strengste Mannszucht hielt, und einen Zug, den man so
gefahrlich glaubte, leicht und ohne Anstofi zu leiten wufite! - Wir haben was
gesehen, was lernen konnen.
SILVA. Auch hier! ist nicht alles still und ruhig, als wenn kein Aufstand gewesen
ware?
GOMEZ. Nun, es war auch schon meist still [186] als wir herkamen.
SILVA. In der Provinz ist es viel ruhiger geworden; und wenn sich noch einer be-
wegt, so ist es um zu entfliehen. Aber auch diesem wird er die Wege bald ver-
sperren, denk ich.
Scene 13.
Ferdinand. Vorige.146
FERDINAND. 1st mein Vater noch nicht heraus?

SILVA. Wir warten auf ihn.
FERDINAND. Die Fursten werden bald hier seyn.
[187] GOMEZ. Kommen sie heute?
FERDINAND. Oranien und Egmont.
GOMEZ, leise zu Silva Ich begreife etwas.
SILVA. So behalt' es fur dich.
7i Egmont. Ein Trauerspielin drey Aujzugen
Scene 14.
HerzogAlba. Vorige.
Wie er herein und vortritt, treten die andern zuriick.
ALBA. Gomez!
GOMEZ, tritt hervor Herr!
[188] ALBA. Du hast die Wachen vertheilt und beordert?
GOMEZ. Aufs genaueste. Die taglichen Runden.
ALBA. Genug. Du wartest in der Gallerie. Silva wird dir den Augenblick sagen,
wenn du sie zusammen ziehen, die Zugange nach dem Pallaste besetzen sollst.
Das iibrige weifo du.
GOMEZ. Ja Herr! ab
[189] Scene 15.
Alba. Silva.
ALBA. Silva!
SILVA. Hier bin ich.
ALBA. Alles was ich von jeher an dir geschatzt habe, Much, Entschlossenheit,
unaufhaltsames Ausfuhren, das zeige heut.
SILVA. Ich danke Euch, dafi Ihr mir Gelegenheit gebt zu zeigen, dafi ich der Alte
bin.
ALBA. Du hast alle Anstalten gemacht, die, [190] die ich dir bezeichnet habe, ge-
fangen zu nehmen?
SILVA. Vertrau auf uns. Ihr Schicksal wird sie wie eine wohl berechnete Sonnen-
finsternifi piinktlich und schrecklich trefFen.147
ALBA. Hast du sie genau beobachten lassen?
SILVA. Alle; den Egmont vor andern. Er ist der Einzige, der, seit du hier
bist, sein Betragen nicht geandert hat. Den ganzen Tag von einem Pferdt
aufs andere, ladet Gaste, ist immer lustig und unterhaltend bey Tafel, wiirfelt,
schiefit und [191] schleicht Nachts zum Liebchen.148 Die andern haben dagegen
eine merckliche Pause in ihrer Lebensart gemacht; sie bleiben bey sich;149 vor
ihren Thiiren sieht's aus als wenn ein Kranker im Hause ware.
ALBA. Drum rasch! eh' sie uns wider Willen genesen.
SILVA. Ich stelle sie. Auf deinen Befehl iiberhaufen wir sie mit dienstfertigen
Ehren. Ihnen graut's; politisch geben sie uns einen angstlichen Dank, fuhlen,
das rathlichste sey zu entfliehen. Keiner [192] wagt einen Schritt, sie zaudern,
konnen sich nicht vereinigen. Sie mochten gern sich jedem Verdacht entziehen,
und machen sich immer verdachtiger. Schon seh ich mit Freuden deinen ganzen
Anschlag ausgefuhrt.150
ALBA. Ich freue mich nur iiber das Geschehene; und auch iiber das nicht leicht;
denn es bleibt stets noch iibrig, was uns zu denken und zu sorgen giebt. Das
Gliick ist eigensinnig, oft das Gemeine, das Nichtswiirdige, zu adeln, und wohl
iiberlegte Thaten mit einem ge=[i93]meinen Ausgang zu entehren. Verweile bis
die Fiirsten kommen; dann gieb Gomez die Ordre, die Strafien zu besetzen,
und eile selbst Egmonts Schreiber und die ubrigen gefangen zu nehmen, die dir
bezeichnet sind. Ist es gethan, so komm hieher und meld es meinem Sohne, daE
er mir in den Rath die Nachricht bringe.
SILVA. Ich hoffe, diesen Abend vor dir stehen zu diirfen. ab
ALBA. Ich traue es mir nicht zu denken; aber [194] meine Hoffnung schwankt.
Ich furchte, es wird nicht werden wie ich wiinsche. Ich sehe Geister vor mir, die
still und sinnend auf schwarzen Schalen das Geschick der Fiirsten und vieler
Tausenden wagen. Langsam wankt das Ziinglein auf, und, tief scheinen die
Richter zu sinnen; zuletzt sinkt diese Schale, steigt jene, angehaucht vom Eigen-
sinn des Schicksals, und entschieden ist's. winkt1^1
Scene 16.
Alba. Ferdinand, der hervortritt
ALBA. Wie fand'st du die Stadt?

[195] FERDINAND. Es hat sich alles gegeben. Ich ritt als wie zum Zeitvertreib,
StraK' auf Straf?' ab. Eure wohl vertheilten Wachen halten die Furcht so ange-
spannt, daf? sie sich nicht zu lispeln untersteht. Die Stadt sieht einem Felde
ahnlich, wenn das Gewitter von weitem leuchtet; man erblickt keinen Vogel,
kein Thier, als das eilend nach einem Schutzorte schlupft.
ALBA. Ist dir nichts weiter begegnet?
FERDINAND. Egmont kam mit einigen auf den Markt [196] geritten; wir
griifiten uns; er hatte ein rohes Pferdt, dal? ich ihm loben mufite. "Lafo uns
eilen, Pferdte zuzureiten; wir werden sie bald brauchen!" rief er mir entgegen.
Er werde mich noch heute wiedersehen, sagte er und komme auf Euer Verlan-
gen, mit Euch zu rathschlagen.
ALBA. Er wird dich wieder sehen.
FERDINAND. Unter alien Rittern, die ich hier kenne, gefallt er mir am besten.
Es scheint, wir werden Freunde seyn.
[197] ALBA. Du bist noch immer so schnell und wenig behutsam, immer erkenn'
ich in dir den Leichtsinn deiner Mutter, der mir sie unbedingt in die Arme lie-
ferte. Zu mancher gefahrlichen Verbindung lud dich der Anschein voreilig ein.
FERDINAND. Euer Wille findet mich bildsam.
ALBA. Ich vergebe deinem jungen Blute dies leichtsinnige Wohlwollen, dies un-
achtsame Frohlichkeit. Nur vergifi nicht, zu welchem Wercke ich gesandt [198]
bin, und welchen Teil ich dir daran geben mochte.
FERDINAND. Erinnert mich, und schont mich nicht, wo Ihr's nothig haltet.
73 Egmont. Bin Trauerspiel in drey Aufziigen
ALBA, nach einer Pause Mein Sohn!

FERDINAND. Mein Vater!
ALBA. Die Fiirsten kommen bald, Oranien und Egmont kommen. Es ist nicht
MiEtrauen, da/3 ich dir erst jetzt entdecke, was geschehen soil. Sie wer=[i99]den
nicht wieder von hinnen gehen.
FERDINAND. Was sinnst du?
ALBA. Es ist bechlossen, sie fest zu halten - Nun hore, was zu thun ist. Sobald
die Fiirsten eingetreten sind, wird jeder Zugang zum Pallaste besetzt. Dazu hat
Gomez die Ordre. Silva wird eilen, Egmonts Schreiber mit den Verdachtigten
gefangen zu nehmen. Du besetzest die Zimmer hier neben mit den sichersten
Leuten; dann warte auf der Gallerie, bis Silva wieder [200] kommt, und bringe
mir irgend ein unbedeutend Blatt herein, zum Zeichen, dafi sein Auftrag ausge-
richtet ist. Dann bleib im Vorsaale, bis Oranien weggeht. Am Ende der Gallerie
fordere seinen Degen, rufe die Wache an, venvahre schnell den gefahrlichsten
Mann; und ich fasse Egmont hier.
FERDINAND. Ich gehorche, mein Vater. Zum erstenmal mit schwerem Herzen
und mit Sorge.
ALBA. Ich verzeihe dir's; es ist der erste [201] groKe Tag, den du erlebst.
Scene17.
Silva. Vorige.
SILVA. Ein Bothe von Antwerpen. Hier ist Oraniens Briefl Er kommt nicht.
ALBA. Sagt es der Bothe?
SILVA. Nein, mir sagt's das Herz.
ALBA. Aus dir spricht mein boser Genius. Nachdem er den Briefgelesen, winkt er
beyden und sie ziehen sich in die Gallerie zurtick. Er bleibt alkin auf [202] dem Vor-
dertheile. Er kommt nicht! Bis auf den letzten Augenblick verschiebt er, sich zu
erklaren. Er wagt es, nicht zu kommen! So war denn diesmal wider Vermuthen
der Kluge klug genug, nicht klug zu seyn! Es riickt die Uhr! Noch einen kleinen
Weg des Zeigers, und ein groEes Werck ist gedian oder versaumt: denn es ist we-
der nachzuhohlen noch zu verheimlichen. - Ist's rathlich, die andern zu fangen,
wenn Er mir entgeht? - Schieb' ich es auf, und laE Egmont mit den Seinigen,
mit so [203] vielen entschliipfen, die nun, vielleicht nur heute noch in meinen
Handen sind. So zwingt dich das Geschick denn auch, du Unbezwinglicher. Wie
lange gedacht! wie wohl bereitet! wie grofi, wie schon der Plan! Wie nah die
Hofrnung ihrem Ziele! Und nun im Augenblick des Entscheidens bist du zwi-
schen zwey Ubel gestellt, wie in einen Loostopf greifst du in die dunkle Zukunft;
was du faEest ist noch zugerollt, dir unbewuEt, seys Treffer oder Fehler! Er wird
aufmerksam, wie einer, der etwas hort, und tritt ans Fenster.152 Er ist es! - Egmont!
Trug dich dein Pferdt so leicht herein, und scheute vor dem Blutgeruche nicht,
und vor dem Geiste mit dem blanken Schwert, der an der Pforte dich empfangt?
— Steig ab! — So bist du mit dem einen Fufi im Grabe und so mit beyden! — Ja
streichl' es nur, und klopfe fur seinen muthigen Dienst zum letzten mal den
Nacken ihm. - Und mir bleibt keine Wahl. In der Verblendung, wie hier Eg-
mont naht, kann er mir nicht zum zweyten mal sich liefern! - Hort! Ferdinand
undSilva treten eiligherbeyVivt thut, was ich befahl, ich an=[iO4]dre meinen Wil-
len nicht. Ich halte, wie es gehn will, Egmont auf, bis du mir von Silva die Nach-
richt gebracht hast. Dann bleib' in der Nahe. Auch dir raubt das Geschick das
grofie Verdienst, des Konigs grofiten Feind mit eigner Hand gefangen zu haben.
zu Silva Eile! zu FerdinandGeh ihm entgegen.
Alba bleibt einige Augenblicke allein undgeht schweigend auf und ab^
Scene 18.
Egmont. Alba.
EGMONT. Ich komme, die Befehle des Konigs zu [206] vernehmen; zu horen,
welchen Dienst er von unserer Treue verlangt, die ihm ewig ergeben bleibt.
ALBA. Er wiinscht vor alien Dingen Euern Rath zu horen.
EGMONT. Uber welchen Gegenstand? Kommt Oranien auch? Ich vermudiete
ihn hier.
ALBA. Mir thut es leid, dal? er uns eben in dieser wichtigen Stunde fehlt. Euern
Rath, cure Meynung wiinscht der Konig, wie diese Staaten wider zu befriedi-
gen. [207] Ja er hofft, ihr werdet kraftig mitwircken, diese Unruhen zu stillen,
und die Ordnung der Provinzen vollig und dauerhaft zu griinden.
EGMONT. Ihr konnt besser wissen als ich, dafi schon alles genug beruhiget ist, ja
noch mehr beruhigt war, eh' die Erscheinung der neuen Soldaten wieder mit
Furcht und Sorge die Gemiither bewegte.'54
ALBA. Ihr scheint andeuten zu wollen, das rathlichste sey gewesen, wenn der
Konig mich gar nicht in den Fall gesetzt hatte, Euch zu fragen.
[208] EGMONT. Verzeiht! Ob der Konig das Heer hatte schicken sollen, ob
nicht vielmehr die Macht seiner majestatischen Gegenwart allein starcker ge-
wirckt hatte, ist meine Sache nicht zu beurtheilen. Das Heer ist da, Er nicht.
Wir aber miifiten sehr undanckbar, sehr vergessen seyn, wenn wir uns nicht er-
innerten, was wir der Regentin schuldig sind. Bekennen wir! sie brachte durch
ihr so kluges als tapferes Betragen Aufrtihrer zur Ruhe, und fiihrte zum Erstau-
nen der Welt ein rebellisches Volck in wenig Monaten zu seiner Pflicht [209]
zuriick.
ALBA. Ich laugne es nicht. Der Tumult ist gestillt, und jeder scheint in die
Grenzen des Gehorsams zuriickgebannt. Aber hangt es nicht von eines jeden
Willkuhr ab, sie zu verlassen? Wer will das Volck hindern loszubrechen? Wer
biirgt uns, dal? sie sich ferner treu und unterthanig zeigen werden? Ihr guter
Wille ist alles Pfand, das wir haben.
75 Egmont. Ein Trauerspiel in drey Aufzugen
EGMONT. Und ist der gute Wille eines Volcks nicht ein sicheres edles Pfand?
Bey Gott! [210] Wann darf sich ein Konig sicherer halten, als wenn sie alle fiir
Einen, Einer fiir alle stehn? {Sicherer gegen innere und aufiere Feinde?155}
ALBA. Wir werden uns doch nicht iiberreden sollen, dafi es jetzt in den Nieder-
landen so steht?
EGMONT. Der Konig schreibe einen General-Pardon aus, er beruhige die Ge-
miither; und bald wird man sehen, wie Treue und Liebe mit dem Zutrauen wie-
der zuriickkehrt.
ALBA. Und jeder, der die Majestat des Konigs, [211] der das Heiligthum der Re-
ligion geschandet, ginge frey und ledig hin und wieder! Lebte dem Andern zum
bereiten1'6 {breiten} Beyspiel, daf? ungeheuer Verbrechen straflos sind! Unge-
straft soil, wenn ich rathe, kein Schuldiger sich freuen.
EGMONT. Glaubst du, daE du sie alle erreichen wirst? Hort man nicht taglich,
dafi die Furcht sie aus dem Lande treibt! Die Reichsten werden ihre Giiter, sich,
ihre Kinder und Freunde fluchten; der Arme wird seine niitzliche Hande dem
Nachbar zubringen.157
[212] ALBA. Sie werden, wenn man sie nicht verhindern kann. Darum verlangt
der Konig Rath und That von jedem Fiirsten, Ernst von jedem Statthalter,
nicht nur Erzahlung wie es ist, was werden konnte, wenn man alles gehen lieKe,
wie es geht. Einem groEen Ubel zusehen, sich mit Hoffhungen schmeicheln,
der Zeit vertrauen, etwa einmal drein schlagen wie im Fastnachtsspiel, daf? es
klatscht, und man doch etwas zu thun scheint, wenn man nichts thun mogte;158
heifit das nicht, sich verdachtig machen, als sehe [213] man den Aufruhr mit
Vergniigen zu, den man nicht erregen, wohl aber hegen mogte?
EGMONT. im Begriff aujzufahren, nimmt sich zusammen, und spricht nach einer
kleinen Pause, gesetzt. Nicht jede Absicht ist ofFenbar, und manches Mannes
Absicht ist zu miRdeuten. Mufi man doch auch von alien Seiten horen; es sey die
spanische Absicht weniger, die Provinzen nach einformigen und klaren Gesetzen
zu regieren, {die Majestat der Religion zu sichern und einen allgemeinen Frieden
seinem Volcke zu geben'59} als vielmehr, sie unbedingt zu unterjochen, sie ihrer
alten Rechte zu berauben, sich Meister [214] von ihren Besitzdiiimern zu ma-
chen, die schonen Rechte des Adels einzuschranken, um derentwillen der Edle
allein dem Konig Leib und Leben widmen mag. Die Religion, sagt man, sey nur
ein prachtiger Teppich, hinter dem man jeden gefahrlichen Anschlag nur desto
leichter ausdenkt. Das Volck liegt auf den Knien, bethet die heiligen gewirckten
Zeichen an, und hinten lauscht der Vogelsteller, der sie beriicken will.160
ALBA. Das mu6 ich von dir horen?
EGMONT. Nicht meine Gesinnungen! Nur was [215] bald hier, bald da, von Gro-
f?en und von Kleinen, Klugen und Thoren gesprochen, laut verbreitet wird. Die
Niederlander furchten ein doppeltes Joch, und wer burgt ihnen fur ihre Freyheit?
ALBA. Freyheit! ein schones Wort, wer's recht verstande. Was wollen sie fiir
Freyheit? - Was ist des Freysten Freyheit? Recht zu thun - und daran wird sie
der Konig nicht hindern. Nein! Nein! Sie glauben sich nicht frey, wenn sie sich
j6 Images of Goethe through Schiller's Egmont
nicht selbst und andern schaden konnen. Ware es nicht besser abzudanken, als
ein solches Volck zu regieren? [216] Weit besser ist's, sie einzuengen, dafi man sie
wie Kinder halten, wie Kinder zu ihrem Besten leiten kann.
EGMONT. {Wie selten kommt ein Konig zu Verstand.161} Man thue, was man
will; ich habe auf deine Frage geantwortet, und wiederhohle: Es gent nicht! Es
kann nicht gehen! ich kenne meine Landsleute. Es sind Manner, werth, Gottes
Boden zu betreten; ein jeder rund fur sich ein kleiner Konig, fest, riihrig, fahig,
treu, an alten Sitten hangend. Schwer ist's, ihr Zutrauen zu verdienen; leicht, zu
erhalten. Starr und fest! zu driicken sind sie, nicht zu unterdriicken.
ALBA. [217] der sich indefl einigemal umgesehen hat. Solltest du das alles in des
Konigs Gegenwart wiederhohlen?
EGMONT. {Desto schlimmer, wenn mich seine Gegenwart abschreckte, desto
besser161} Gut"53 fur ihn, fur sein Volck, wenn er mir Muth machte, noch mehr
zu sagen.164
ALBA. Wie du gesinnt bist, scheint es ein vergeblicher Versuch, uns vereinigen
zu wollen. Du denkst gering von dem Konige und verachtlich von seinen
Rathen, wenn du zweifelst, dai? alles sey nicht schon gedacht, gepriift, gewogen
worden. Ich habe keinen Auftrag, jedes Fur und Wider noch einmal [218] durch
zu gehen. Gehorsam fordre ich von dem Volcke - und von Euch, ihr Ersten,
Edelsten, Rath und That als Biirgen dieser unbedingten Pflicht.
EGMONT. Fordre unsre Haupter; so ist es auf einmal gethan. Ob sich der Nak-
ken diesem Joche biegen, ob er sich vor dem Beile ducken soil, kann einer edlen
Seele gleich seyn. Umsonst hab' ich gesprochen; die Luft hab' ich erschiittert,
weiter nichts gewonnen.
Scene ij>.
Ferdinand. Vorige.
[219] FERDINAND. Verzeiht, dafi ich Euer Gesprach unterbreche. Hier ist ein
Brief, dessen Uberbringer die Antwort dringend macht.
ALBA. Erlaubt mir, dafi ich sehe, was er enthalt. Tritt auf die Seite.
FERDINAND, zu EgmontEs ist ein schones Pferdt, was Eure Leute gebracht ha-
ben, Euch abzuholen.
EGMONT. Es ist nicht das schlimmste. Ich hab' es schon eine Weile; ich denk',
es weg zu geben. Wenn es Euch gefallt, [220] so werden wir vielleicht des Han-
dels einig.
FERDINAND. Gut, wir wollen sehen.
ALBA, winkt seinem Sohn, der sich in den Grund zuriick zieht.16^
EGMONT. Lebt wohl! entlafit mich: denn ich wiifite, bey Gott! nicht mehr zu
sagen.
ALBA. Gliicklich hat dich der Zufall verhindert, deinen Sinn noch mehr
zu verrathen. Unvorsichtig entwickelst du die Falten [221] deines Herzens,
77 Egmont. Em Trauerspiel in drey Aujziigen
und klagst dich selbst weit strenger an, als ein Widersacher gehafiig thun
konnte.166
EGMONT. Dieser Vorwurf riihrt mich nicht; ich kenne mich selbst genug, und
weifi, wie ich dem Konig angehore; weit mehr als viele, die in seinem Dienst
sich selber dienen. Ungern scheid ich aus diesem Streite, ohne ihn beygelegt zu
sehen, und wiinsche nur, dafi uns der Dienst des Herrn, das wohl des Landes
bald vereinigen moge. Es wirckt vielleicht ein wiederhohltes Gesprach, die Ge-
genwart der iibrigen Fiirsten, die [222] heute fehlen, in einem gliicklichen Au-
genblick, was heut unmoglich scheint.lfiy Mit dieser Hoffnung entfern' ich
mich.
ALBA, derzugleich seinem Sohn ein Zeichen giebt. Halt Egmont! - Deinen Degen!
EGMONT. der staunend eine Weilegeschwiegen. Diefi war die Absicht? Dazu hast
du mich berufen? Nach dem Degen greifend, als wenn er sich vertheidigen wollte,
Bin ich denn wehrlos?
ALBA. Der Konig befiehlts, du bist mein Gefangener. zugleich treten
[223] Scene 20.
Soldaten von beyden Seiten herein
Vorige.
EGMONT. nach einer Stifle Der Konig? - Oranien! Oranien! nach einer Pause sei-
nen Degen hin reichendSo nimm ihn! Er hat weit ofters des Konigs Sache ver-
theidigt, als diese Brust beschiitzt. Er geht durch die Mittelthiir ab: die Soldaten
folgen ihm, im glekhen Albas Sofm.'68
Scene 21.
Strafe: Ddmmerung
Brackenburg allein.
So ist es denn gewifi, was ich gefurchtet! - [224] Sie liebt ihn! - ihn! - Ich b
ihr nichts! — die Angst um ihn entrifi ihr heute das Geheimnifi. — Graf Egmont
ist der einzige Theure, der Begliickte! - Und ich - kann ich die Ungetreue
hassen — ihr entsagen? Ach! — nein — ich kann — ich kann es nicht! — Unruhvoll
verlief? sie diesen Morgen ihre Wohnung. Von feme folgt ich ihr, es trieb sie
nach dem Schlosse, zu sehen, was mit Egmont wiirde, zu warten, bis er gerettet
wieder kehrte! — Ungliickliche, er kehrt nicht mehr zuriick! ich wei6, daE er
gefangen ist - Auch Richard, [225] sein geheimer Schreiber, ist's; ich selbst sah
ihn gefangen fort gefuhrt! - Was wird ihr Schicksal seyn! - Horch! ist das nicht
- Gott! das ist ihre Stimme!169
Scene 22.^°
Kldrchen, begleitet von Zimmermeister und noch zwey andern

Biirgern. Brackenburg.
KLARCHEN. spricht die ersten Worte noch aufierhalb der Szene Don fuhrten sie
ihn hin - Kommt nur! wir hohlen ihn noch ein - befreyen ihn! - Ruft nur ge
schwind die Burger aus den Hausern.
[226] ZIMMERMEISTER. Was kommt dem Madchen ein? Was will sie? Von
wem spricht sie?
BRACKENBURG. Liebchen, um Gotteswillen, was nimmst du vor?
KLARCHEN. 171 Komm mit, Brackenburg! {wir miissen ihn befreyen!} Du mufit
die Menschen nicht kennen; wir befreyen ihn gewifi. Denn was gleicht ihrer
Liebe zu ihm? Jeder fuhlt, ich schwore es, in sich die brennendste Begier, ihn zu
retten, dem Freysten die Freyheit wieder zu geben. Komm! es fehlt nur an der
Stimme, die sie zu=[227]sammenruft. In ihrer Seele lebt noch ganz frisch, was
sie ihm schuldig sind! Um seinetwillen, um ihrentwillen miissen sie alles wagen.
Und was wagen wir? Zum Hochsten unser Leben, das zu erhahen nicht der
Miihe werth ist, wenn er umkommt.
BRACKENBURG. Ungliickliche! Du siehst nicht die Gewalt, die uns mit ihren
Banden gefesselt hat.
KLARCHEN. Sie scheint mir nicht uniiberwindlich. Lafi uns nicht lang vergebli-
che Worte wechseln. Hier kommen von den alien17* {noch} [228] redlichen wak-
kern Mannern! Hort! Freunde! Nachbarn, hort! - Sagt, wie ist es mit Egmont?
Scene 23.
Vorige. Jetter. Soest. {2 Biirger.}17^
ZIMMERMEISTER. 174 {Soest.} Was will das Kind? Lafi sie schweigen!
KLARCHEN. Tretet naher, dal? wir sachte werden, bis wir einig sind und starker.
Wir diirfen nicht einen Augenblick versaumen! Die freche Tyranney, die es
wagt, ihn zu fesseln, zuckt schon den Dolch, ihn zu ermorden. O Freunde!
[229] mit jedem Schritt der Dammerung werd' ich angstlich. Ich fiirchte diese
Nacht. Kommt! wir wollen uns theilen; mit schnellem Lauf von Quartier zu
Quartier rufen wir die Burger heraus. Ein jeder greife zu seinen alien Waffen.
Auf dem Markte treffen wir uns wieder, und unser Strom reifit einen jeden
mit sich fort. Die Feinde sehen sich umringt und uberschwemmt, und sind
erdriickt. Was kann uns eine Handvoll Knechte widerstehen? Und er in unserer
Mitte kehrt zuriick, sieht sich befreyt, und [230] kann uns einmal danken, uns,
die wir ihm so tief verschuldet worden. Er sieht vielleicht - gewifi er sieht das
Morgenroth am freyen Himmel wieder.
ZIMMERMEISTER. Was ist dir Madchen?
JETTER.175 {Soest.} Von wem ist denn die Rede?
79 Egmont. Ein Trauerspielin drey Aufeugen
KLARCHEN. Konnt ihr mich mifrverstehen? - Vom Grafen sprech' ich! Ich spre-
che von Egmont.
SOEST «w^/jETTER. 176 Nennt den Namen nicht! Er ist todlich!
[23i177] KLARCHEN. Den Namen nicht! Wie? diesen Namen? Wer nennt ihn
nicht bey jeder Gelegenheit?Wo steht es nicht geschrieben?178 In diesen Sternen
hab' ich oft mit alien seinen Ziigen ihn gelesen. 0Nicht nennen? Was soil das?
Freunde! gute, theure Nachbarn, ihr traumt; besinnt Euch. 0Seht mich nicht so
starr und angstlich an! 0Ich ruf Euch ja nur zu, was jeder wiinscht. Ist meine
Stimme nicht Eures Herzens eigene Stimme? 0Fragt Euch einander! frage jeder
sich selbst! und wer spricht mir nicht [232] nach: "Egmonts Befreyung oder den
Tod!"179
JETTER. Gott bewahr' uns, da giebt es ein Ungliick! {Gott! welche Sprache!)
(Um Gotteswillen, schweige!}180
KLARCHEN. Sonst,18' sonst, wenn der Ruf ihn ankiindigte, wenn es hieE:
"Egmont kommt! Er kommt von Gent!" Da hielten die Bewohner der Strafien
sich gliicklich, durch die er reiten muSte. Und wenn ihr seine Pferde schallen
hortet, warf jeder seine Arbeit hin, und fiber die bekummerten Gesichter, die
Ihr [233] durchs Fenster stecktet, fuhr wie ein Sonnenstrahl von seinem Ange-
sichte ein Blick der Freude und Hoffnung.182 Da hobt Ihr Eure Kinder auf der
Thiirschwelle in die Hohe und deutetet {sagtet} ihnen: "Sieh, das ist Egmont,
der grofite da! Er ist's! Er ist's, von dem ihr bessere Zeiten, als cure armen Vater
lebten, einst zu erwarten habt." Lafe Eure Kinder nicht dereinst Euch183 fragen:
"Wo ist er hin? Wo sind die Zeiten hin, die ihr verspracht?" - {Und so wechseln
wir Worte! sind miifiig und verrathen ihn.184}
SOEST.l85 Schamt Euch, Brackenburg! Lafit sie [234] nicht gewahren! Steuert
dem Unheil!
BRACKENBURG. Liebes Klarchen! Wir wollen gehen! Was wird die Mutter sa-
gen? Vielleicht -
ZIMMERMEISTER. Gevatter, kommt.186
KLARCHEN. Und ich habe nicht Arme, nicht Mark wie ihr; doch hab' ich, was
Euch alien eben fehlt, Muth und Verachtung der Gefahr. 0Konnt Euch mein
Athem doch entziinden! 0K6nnt ich Euch an meinem Herzen erwarmen und
beleben. 0Kommt! In eurer Mitte will ich gehen! [235] - wie eine Fahne, die
zwar selber wehrlos ist,1*7 ein edles Herr von Kriegern wehend anfuhrt, so soil
mein Geist um cure Haupter flammen, und das zerstreute schwaonckende
Volck zu einem fiirchterlichen Heer vereinigen.
JETTER. lS8 {Soest.} Schafft' sie bey Seite, sie dauert mich. ab mit den ubrigen
Biirgern.
Scene 24.
Klarchen. Brackenburg.
BRACKENBURG. Klarchen! siehst du nicht, wo wir sind?

[236] KLARCHEN. 189 Wo? Unter dem Himmel, der sich so oft herrlicher zu wol-
ben schien, wenn der Edle unter ihm herging. oAiis diesen Fenstern haben sie
heraus gesehen, vier, fiinf Kopfe iibereinander; an diesen Thiiren haben sie ge-
scharrt und genickt, wenn er auf die Memmen herab sah. O ich hatte sie so lieb,
wie sie ihn ehrten! Ware er ein Tyrann gewesen, mochten sie immer von seinem
Falle seitwarts gehen. Aber sie liebten ihn! -I9° 0O ihr Hande, die ihr an die
Miitzen grifft, zum Schwert konnt ihr nicht greifen - 0Brackenburg und wir?
[237] - Schelten wir sie? - diese Arme, die ihn so oft fest hielten, was thun sie
fur ihn? - List hat in der Welt so viel erreicht. - Du kennst Wege und Wege,
kennst das alte Schlofi. Es ist nichts unmoglich, gib mir einen Anschlag.
BRACKENBURG. Wenn wir nach Hause giengen.19'
KLARCHEN.' 9 * Gut!
BRACKENBURG. Dort an der Ecke seh' ich Albas Wache; lafi doch die Stimme
der Vernunft dir zu Grenzen dringen. Haltst du rnich fur feig? Glaubst du
nicht, daf? ich um <dei=>I93[238]netwillen sterben konnte? Hier sind wir Beyde
wahnsinnig, ich so gut wie du. Siehst du nicht das Unmogliche?194 Wenn du
dich faGtest! Du bist aufier dir. Komm nach Hause.
KLARCHEN. noch immer wie im Traum. Nach Hause?
BRACKENBURG. Bcsinne dich nur! Sieh dich um! Diefi sind die Strafien, die du
nur sonntaglich betratst, durch die du sittsam nach der Kirche giengst, wo du
iibertrieben ehrbar ziirntest, wenn ich <mit>'95 einem freundlich griifienden
[239] Wort mich zu dir gesellte.196 Du stehst und redest, handelst vor den Augen
der offenen Welt; besinne dich, Liebe! wozu hilft es uns?
KLARCHEN. wie CMS einem tiefen Traum aufivachend, und besinnend. Nach
Hause! Ja, ich besinne mich. Komm, Brackenburg, nach Hause! WeiRt du, wo
meine Heimath ist?
Wie sie im Begriffist, fan zu gehen, fdllt der Vorhang.
Ende des zweyten Acts.197

8i Egmont. Ein Trauerspiel in drey Aufciigen
[240]^ Actus III.
Biirgerliches Zimmer mit Tisch und Stuhlen
Scene i.
Kldrchen allein.
Kommt mit einem Licht und einem Glas Wasser aus der Kammer: sie setzt das Glas
auf den Tisch und tritt am Fenster. Brackenburg, seyd Ihrs? Was hort ich denn?
noch niemand? Es war niemand! Ich will das Licht ins Fenster setzen, dal?
er sieht, ich wache noch, ich warte noch auf ihn.199 Er hat mir Nachricht ver-
sprochen. Nachricht? entsetzliche Gewifiheit? [241] — O Egmont, sicher hielt
ich dich vor Gott und Menschen, wie in meinen Armen! Was war ich dir? Du
hast mich dein genannt, mein ganzes Leben widmete ich deinem Leben! - Was
bin ich nun? Vergebens streck ich nach der Schlinge, die dich fafit, die Hand
aus. Du hulflos, und200 - ich frey! - fund kann dich nicht erretten!!} Hier ist
der Schlussel zu meiner Thiire. An meiner Willkiir hangt mein Gehen und
mein Kommen, und dir bin ich zu nichts! - O bindet mich, damit ich nicht
verzweifle; und werft mich in den tiefsten Kercker, daft ich das Haupt an
feuchte Mauern schlage, nach Rettung winsle, trau=[242]me, wie ich ihm hel-
fen wollte, wenn Fesseln mich nicht lahmten, wie ich ihm helfen wiirde. — Nun
bin ich frey! und in der Freyheit liegt die Angst der Ohnmacht — Mir selbst be-
wufit, nicht fahig, ein Glied nach seiner Hiilfe zu riihren. Ach leider, auch der
kleine Theil von deinem Wesen, dein Klarchen ist, wie du, gefangen und regt,
getrennt im Todeskampf, nur die letzten Krafte. -201 Ich hore schleichen,
husten -202 {kommen} Brackenburg - er ist's! Elender203 guter Mann {Ungliickli-
cher Edler204}, Dein Schicksal bleibt sich immer gleich, dein Liebchen offnet dir
die nachtliche Thiir, und [243] ach, zu welch unseliger Zusammenkunft!105
Scene 2.
Brackenburg. Kldrchen.
KLARCHEN. Du kommst so Obleich und schiichtern, Brackenburg! was ist's?

BRACKENBURG. Dutch Umwege und Gefahren such' ich dich auf. Die grofien
Strafien sind besetzt, durch Gafichen und durch Winkel hab' ich mich zu dir
gestohlen.
KLARCHEN. Erzahl, wie ist's?206
[244] BRACKENBURG. indem er sich setzt Ach Klarchen, laf? mich weinen.207 Ich
liebt' ihn nicht. Er war der reiche Mann und lockte des Armen einziges Schaaf
zur bessern Weide heriiber. Ich hab' ihn nie verflucht; Gott hat mich treu
geschaffen und weich. In Schmerzen flofi mein Leben von mir nieder, und zu
verschmachten hofft' ich jeden Tag.
KLARCHEN. Vergil? das, Brackenburg! Vergil? dich selbst! Sprich mir von
ihm.2oS 0Ist's wahr? 1st er verurtheilt?
[245] BRACKENBURG. Er ist's! ich weiE es ganz genau.
KLARCHEN. Und lebt noch?
BRACKENBURG. Ja, er lebt noch.
KLARCHEN. Wie willst du das versichern? - Die Tyranney ermordet in der
Nacht den Herrlichen; vor alien Augen verborgen fliefit sein Blut. Angstlich im
Schlafe liegt das betaubte Volck, und traumt von Rettung, traumt seines ohn-
machtigen Wunsches Erfiillung, indefi unwillig iiber uns sein Geist die Welt
[246] verlafit. Er ist dahin. - Tausche mich nicht! dich nicht!209
BRACKENBURG. Nein gewil?, er lebt! - Und leider, es bereitet der Spanier dem
Volcke, das er zertreten will, ein furchterliches Schauspiel; gewaltsam jedes
Herz, das unsre Verfassung liebt, auf ewig zu zerknirschen.
KLARCHEN. Fahre fort und sprich gelassen auch mein Todes Urtheil aus! Ich
wandle den seligen Gefilden schon naher und naher, mir weht der Trost aus je-
nen Gegenden des Friedens schon heriiber. Sag' an.210
[247] BRACKENBURG. Ich konnt es an den Wachen mercken, an den Reden,
die bald da bald dort fielen, daf? auf dem Markte geheimnisvoll ein Schrecknil?
zubereitet werde. Ich schlich durch Seitenwege, dutch bekannte Gange nach
meines Vettern Hause, und sah aus einem Hinterfenster nach dem Markte -
Es wehten Fackeln in einem111 weiten Kreise spanischer Soldaten, hin und wie-
der. Ich scharfte mein ungewohntes Auge, und aus der Nacht stieg mit ein
schwarzes Geriist entgegen, geraumig, hoch; mir graufite vor dem Anblick.
Geschaftig waren viele rings umher bemuht, was [248] noch von Holzwerk
well? und sichtbar war, mit schwarzem Tuch einhiillend zu verkleiden. Die
Treppen deckten sie zuletzt auch schwarz, ich sah es wohl. Sie schienen die
Weyhe eines graSlichen Opfers zu begehen. Ein weil?es Kruzifix, das durch
die Nacht wie Silber blickte, ward an der einen Seite hoch aufgesteckt. Ich
sah, und sah die schreckliche GewiEheit immer gewisser. Noch wanckten Fak-
keln hie und da herum; allmahlich wichen sie und erloschen. Auf einmal war
die scheufiliche Geburt der Nacht in ihrer Mutter [249] School? zuruckge-
kehrt.
KLARCHEN. Still, Btackenbutg! Nun still! Olaf? diese Hiille auf meiner Seele ruhn.
- Kennst du dies Flaschchen, Brackenburg? Ich nahm dir's scherzend,212 als du
mit ubereilten Tod einst ungeduldig drohtest. - Und nun, mein Freund -
BRACKENBURG. In aller Heiligen Nahmen!
KLARCHEN. Du hinderst nichts! Tod ist mein Theil! und213 gonn mir den sanf-
ten schnellen Tod, den du dir selbst bereitetest. Gieb mir deine Hand! Im Au-
gen=2I4[25o]blick, da ich die Pforte eroffne, aus der kein Riickweg ist, konnt ich
mit diesem Handedruck dir sagen: wie sehr ich dich geliebt, wie sehr ich dich
bejammert. Mein Bruder starb mir Jung; dich wahlt ich, seine Stelle zu ersetzen.
Es widersprach dein Herz, und qualte sich und mich, verlangtest heifi und im-
mer heil?er, was dir nicht beschieden war. Vergib mir und leb wohl.2IS Lafi mich
dich Bruder nennen! Es ist ein Nahmen, der viel' Nahmen in sich fafit. Nimm
die letzte Blume der Scheidenden [251] mit treuem Herzen ab - nimm diesen
Kufi - der Tod vereinigt alles, Brackenburg, uns denn auch.2'6 {nun leb wohl
..nen unverschuldet Elend ich d... 2'7}
BRACKENBURG. So lafi mich mit dir sterben! Theile! theile! Es ist genug, zwey
Leben auszuloschen.
KLARCHEN. Bleib! Du sollst leben, du kannst leben. - Steh' meiner Mutter bey,
die ohn dich in Armuth sich verzehren wiirde. Sey ihr, was ich ihr nicht mehr
seyn kann, lebt zusammen, und beweint mich. Beweint das Vater= [252] land,
und den, der es allein erhalten konnte. Das heutige Geschlecht wird diesen Jam-
mer nicht los; die Wuth der Rache selbst vermag ihn nicht zu tilgen. Lebt, ihr
Armen, die Zeit noch hin, die keine Zeit mehr ist. Heut steht die Welt auf
einmal still; es stockt ihr Kreislauf, und mein Puls schlagt kaum noch einige
Minuten.218 Leb' wohl!
BRACKENBURG. O lebe du mit uns, wie wir fur dich allein! Du todtest uns in
dir, o leb' und leide. Wir wollen unzertrennlich dir zu beiden Seiten stehn, und
[253] immer achtsam soil die Liebe den schonsten Trost in ihren lebendigen Ar-
men dir bereiten.219 Sey unser! Unser! Ich darf nicht sagen, mein.
KLARCHEN. Leise, Brackenburg! Du fuhlst nicht, was du riihrst. Wo Hoffhung
dir erscheint, ist mir Verzweiflung.
BRACKENBURG. Theile mit den Lebendigen die Hoffnung. Verweil' am Rande
des Abgrunds, schau hinab und sieh auf uns zuriick.
KLARCHEN. Ich hab' iiberwunden, ruf mich nicht [254] wieder zum Streit.
BRACKENBURG. Du bist betaubt; gehiillt in Nacht, suchst du die Tiefe. Noch
ist nicht jedes Licht erloschen, noch mancher Tag! -
KLARCHEN. fdhrtzusammen bey dem letzten W&rtWeh! iiber dich, weh! Weh!220
Grausam zerreiEt du den Vorhang vor meinem Auge; Ja, er wird grauen, der
Tagl vergebens alle Nebel um sich ziehen und wider Willen grauen! Furchtsam
schaut der Burger aus seinem Fenster, die Nacht lafit einen schwar=[255]zen
Flecken zuriick; er schaut, und fiirchterlich wachst im Licht das Mordgeriiste.
Die Sonne macht sich nicht hervor; sie will die Stunde nicht bezeichnen, in der
er sterben soil. Trage gehn die Zeiger ihren Weg, und eine Stunde nach der an-
dern schlagt.121 Halt! halt! nun ist es Zeit! mich scheucht des Morgens Ahndung
in das Grab.
Sie tritt am Fenster, als sake sie sich um, und trinckt heimlich.
BRACKENBURG. Klare! Klare!222

KLARCHEN. geht nach dem Tisch und trinkt das [256] Wasser. Hier ist der Rest!
Ich locke dich nicht nach. Thue, was du darfst, leb' wohl. Losche dirs Licht still
und ohn zaudern, ich gehe zur Ruhe. Schleiche dich sachte weg, ziehe die Thiir
nach dir zu. Still! Wecke meine Mutter nicht! Geh! rette dich! rette dich! wenn
du nicht mein Morder scheinen willst. ab
Scene j.22'
Brackenburg allein.
Sie lafit mich zum letztenmal wie immer. O kb'nnte eine Menschenseele fuhlen,
wie sie mein liebendes Herz zerreifien kann. Sie lafit mich steh'n, [257] mir sel-
ber iiberlassen; und Tod und Leben ist mir gleich verhafo. - Allein zu sterben!
- Weint, ihr Liebenden!224 Kein harter Schicksal ist als meins! Sie theilt mit mir
den Todestropfen, und schickt mich weg! Von ihrer Seite weg! Sie zieht mich
nach, und stofit ins Leben mich zuriick. O Egmont, welch preiswurdig Loos
fallt dir! Sie geht voran; der Kranz des Siegs aus Ihrer Hand ist dein; sie bringt
den ganzen Himmel dir entgegen! - Und soil ich folgen? wieder seitwarts ste-
hen? den unausloschlichen Neid in jene Wohnung hiniibertragen? — Auf Erden
ist kein [258] Bleiben mehr fur mich, und Holl' und Himmel bieten gleiche
Qual. Wie ware der Vernichtung Schreckenshand dem Ungliickseligen will-
kommen. geht abii5
Das Theater bleibt einige Zeit unverandert: Eine Musik, Kldrchens Tod bezeich-
nend, beginnt, das Licht, welches Brackenburg auszulaschen vergessen, flammt noch
einigemal auf, dann erlischt es. Sobald es erloschen ist, verwandelt sich die Szene in
Egmonts Gefangnis.
Das Verwandlungszeichen wird [259] mit der Papier Rolle gegeben?16
Scene 4.^
Gefangnis: durch eine Lampe erhellt. Ein Ruhe-Bette im Grunde
EGMONT hervor kommend2^

Alter Freund! Immer getreuer Schlaf! Fliehst du mich auch, wie die iibrigen
Freunde? {Wie willig senktest du dich auf mein freies Haupt herunter und kiihl-
test wie ein schoner Myrtenkranz der Liebe meine Schlafe.229} Mitten unter Waf-
fen, auf der Woge des Lebens, ruhte ich leicht athmend, wie ein aufquellender
Knabe, in deinen Armen. Was schiittelt mich nun? Was erschuttert den festen
Muth meines Herzens?230 {treuen Sinn231} [260] Ich fuhl's, es ist der Klang der
Mordaxt, die sich der Wurzel meines Leibes naht. Ja sie (iberwindet, die verrathe-
rische Gewalt. Sie untergrabt den festen hohen Starnm, und eh' die Rinde dorrt,
stiirzt krachend und zerschmettert deine Krone - {Warum denn jetzt,2'2] Was ist
das? Bin ich nicht derselbe mehr, der jede Sorge sonst mit leichtem Sinne von sich
weg gebannt - Warum kann ich die Ahndung nicht verscheuchen, die schwarz
und finster meinen Geist umwolkt?233 Seit wann ist denn der Tod mir furchter-
lich? nachsinnend [261] Nein, nein, der Tod ist's nicht - dem hab ich tausendmal
in offner Schlacht getrotzt - der Kerker ists, des Grabes Vorbild, dem Helden wie
85 Egmont. Ein Trttuerspiel in dreyAujziigen
dem Feigen widerlich. - Unleidlich war mirs schon, auf einem gepolsterten
Stuhle, in statdicher Versammlung da zu sitzen, und was der erste Blick so schnell
so leicht entschied, langweilig wiederholt zu iiberlegen. Des Zimmers dustre
Wande - die Balcken an der Decke driickten mich. Da eilt ich fort, so bald es
moglich war, und rasch aufs Pferdt mit tiefem Athemzuge, und frisch [262] hin-
aus ins Freye, wo der Mensch erleichtert alle Fesseln von sich wirft, und an dem
Mutterbusen der Natur sich frey und froh und seelig wieder finder. — Und jetzt —
wo bin ich? Welches Loos erwartet mich?134 - Feindseliges Geschick! Warum
miEgonnst du mir den raschen Tod im Angesicht der Sonne, urn mir des Grabes
Vorgeschmack im modervollen Kerker zu bereiten! Wie haucht er mich aus diesen
Steinen widrig an! Schon vor235 dem Tod stirbt hier das Leben ab - und schau-
dernd wende ich mich von die=[263]sem Ruhebette wie vor dem Grabe weg. - O
Sorge! Sorge! Wie {Die} du vor der Zeit den Mord beginnst, lafi ab! Seit wann ist
Egmonr denn allein — so ganz136 allein in dieser Welt? — Wird meine gute Sache
mich niche schiitzen? Wird nicht Oranien zu rneiner Rettung etwas Kiihnes wa-
gen — nicht ganz Brabant sich riihren, sich versammeln, und mit Gewalt den alten
Freund befreyen? - O haltet, Mauern, die ihr rings mich einschliefit, der Freunde
treuen Eifer nicht zuriick! Den Muth, den Trost, den sie aus meinen Augen sonst
geschopft, lafit jetzt aus ihren auf mich ubergehen. [264] — Ja, ja! sie sinds — sie
riihren sich zu Tausenden - Sie kommen - ich sehe sie nach Lanz und Schwert
greifen. Die Thore spalten sich — die Gitter sprengen — die Mauer stiirzt von ihren
Handen ein, und der Freyheit des einbrechenden Tages steigt Egmont frohlich
entgegen - Wie manch bekannt Gesicht empfangt mich jauchzend! Ach! Klar-
chen! Warst du <ein> Mann! ich sahe dich gewifi auch hier zuerst und dankte dir
meine Freyheit.237 {Was einem Konige zu danken hart ist, Freyheit.238}
Gerdusch von Schlusseln. Man hort einige Thtiren gehen und Riegel vor=^9 [265]
schieben. Egmont schrickt zusammen und horcht.
Scene$.14°
Egmont. Ferdinand und Silva.
Von zwey Vermummten^1 {mit schtuarzen Mdnteln}*^ und einigen Gewaffneten

begleitet. Vbraus vier Fackeltrdger.
SILVA. noch aufierhalb Ihr andern wartet.

EGMONT. Wer seyd Ihr? Was kiindigen Eure unsicheren, trotzigen Blicke mir
an? Warum diesen fiirchterlichen Aufzug?
[266] Silva. Uns schickt der Herzog, dir dein Urtheil anzukiindigen.
EGMONT. Bringst du den Hencker gleich mit, es zu vollenden? Er sieht den Ver-
mummten an, der ndher vorkommt, und ihm geradgegeniiber tritt. Ferdinand halt
sich in der Feme.
SILVA. Vernimm es, so wirst du wissen, was deiner wartet.

EGMONT. So ziemt es Euch und eurem schandlichen Beginnen! In Nacht ge-
briitet und [267] in Nacht vollfuhrt. [So mag diese freche Tat der Ungerechtig-
keit sich verbergen!}243 immer aufden Vermummten die Augen he/tend1*4 Tritt
kiihn hervor, der du das Schwert verhiillt unter dem Mantel tragt; es {hier} 1st245
mein Haupt, das freyste, das je die Tyranney vom Rumpf gerissen.
SILVA. Du irrst! Was gerechte Richter beschliessen, werden sie vor'm Angesicht
des Tages nicht verbergen.
EGMONT. So iibersteigt die Frechheit jeden Begriffund Gedanken.
SILVA. nimmt einem dabey stehenden das [268] Urtheil aus der Hand, entfaltet es
und liest: "Im Namen des Konigs, und Kraft besonderer Von Sr Majestat uns
iibertragenen Gewalt, alle seine Unterthanen, was Standes sie seyen, zugleich
die Ritter des goldenen Vliefies zu richten, erkennen wir -"
EGMONT. Kann die der Konig iibertragen?
SILVA. "Erkennen wir, nach vorgangiger genauer gesetzlicher Untersuchung,
dich Heinrich Grafen Egmont, Prinzen von Gaure, des Hochverraths [269]
schuldig, und sprechen das Urtheil: daf? du mit der Friihe des einbrechenden
Morgens aus dem Kerker gefuhrt, auf den Markt, und dort vorm Angesicht des
Volcks zur Warnung aller Verrather mit dem Schwerte vom Leben zum Tode
gebracht werden sollest. Gegeben Briissel, am" Datum undjahrzahl werden un-
deutlich gelesen, so, daj?sie der Zuschauer nicht verstehi2*6 "Ferdinand Herzog von
Alba." - Du weifit nun dein Schicksal; es bleibt dir wenige Zeit, dich drein zu
ergeben, dein Haus zu bestel[27o]len und von den Deinigen Abschied zu neh-
men. Silva mit dem Gefolge ab. Es bleibt Ferdinand und zwey Fackeltrager, das
Theater ist mdssig erleuchtet.
Scene <f.247
Egmont. Ferdinand. Zwey Fackeltrdger.
EGMONT. hat erne Weile, in sich versenkt, stille gestanden, und Silva, ohne sich um
zu sehen, abgehen lassen. Er glaubt sich allein, und da er die Augen aufhebt, erblickt
er Albas Sohn. Du stehst und bleibst? Willst du mein Erstaunen, mein Ensetzen
noch durch deine Gegen= [271]wart vermehren? Willst du noch etwa die will-
kommne Bothschaft deinem Vater bringen, dai? ich unmannlich verzweifle? Geh!
Sag ihm {sag ihm248}, dai? er weder mich noch die Welt beliigt.249 Ihm, dem
Ruhmsuchtigen, wird man es erst hinter den Schultern leise fliistern, dann laut
und lauter sagen, und wenn er einst von diesem Gipfel herabsteigt, werden tau-
send Stimmen es ihm entgegen rufen:2'0 Nicht das Wohl des Staats, {nicht die
Wiirde des Konigs,251} nicht die Ruhe der Provinzen haben ihn hieher gebracht.
Um sein selbst willen hat er Krieg gerathen. {Dafi der Krieger im Kriege gelte.2'2}
Er hat diese ungeheure Verwirrung erregt, damit [272] man seiner bediirfe. Und
ich falle, ein Opfer seines niedrigen Hasses, seines kleinlichen Neides. Ja, ich weifi
87 Egmont. Em Trauerspiel in drey Aujziigen
es fund ich darf es fragen, der Sterbende, der todlich Verwundete kann es fra-
gen:2"} mich254 hat der Eingebildete beneidet, mich weg zu tilgen, hat er lange
gesonnen und gedacht. — Schon damals als wir, noch j linger, mit Wiirfeln spiel-
ten, und die Haufen Goldes, einen nach dem andern, von seiner Seite zu mir her-
iiber eilten; da stand er grimmig, log Gelassenheit, und innerlich verzehrt' ihn die
Argernifi, mehr iiber mein Gliick, als iiber seinen Verlust. Noch seh ich seinen
funckelnden Blick {erinnere mich seines funckelnden Blicks, die verratherische
Blasse,2'5} als wir an einem offentlichen Feste vor vielen [273] tausend Menschen
um die Wette schossen. Er forderte mich auf, und beyde Nationen standen; die
Spanier, die Niederlander wetteten, und wiinschten. Ich iiberwand ihn; seine
Kugel fehlte2'6 {irrte}, die meine traf; ein lautes Freudengeschrey257 der Meinigen
erfiillte die Luft. Nun trifift mich sein Geschofi. Sag ihm {dafi ichs weifi}, dafi ich
ihn kenne, dafi die Welt jedes Sieges-Zeichen verachtet, das ein kleiner Geist sich
erschleichend aufrichtet.258 Und du - wenn einem Sohn moglich ist, von der
Sitte des Vaters zu weichen, iibe bey Zeiten die Schaam, indem du dich fur den
schamst, den du [274] gerne von ganzem Herzen verehren mochtest.2*9
FERDINAND. Ich hore dich an, ohne dich zu unterbrechen! Deine Vbrwiirfe la-
sten wie Keulschlage auf einem Helm; ich fuhle die Erschiitterung, aber ich bin
bewafFnet. Du triffst mich, du verwundest mich nicht; fuhlbar ist mir allein der
Schmerz, der mir den Busen zerreifit. Wehe mir! Wehe! zu einem solchen An-
blick bin ich aufgewachsen, zu einem solchen Schauspiel bin ich gesendet!
EGMONT. 260 Du brichst in Klagen aus. Was bekum=[275]mert dich? Ist es eine
spate Reue, dafi du der schandlichen Verschworung deinen Dienst geliehen? Du
hast ein gliickliches Ansehen. Du warst so zutraulich, so freundlich gegen mich.
so lang' ich dich sah, war ich mit deinem Vater versohnt. Und eben so verstellt,
verstellter als er, lockst du mich in das Netz. Du bist noch abscheulicher! Wer
Ihm traut, mag es auf seine Gefahr thun; aber wer furchtete Gefahr, dirzu ver-
trauen? Geh, geh! Raube mir nicht die wenigen Augenblicke! Ich! dafi ich mich
sammle, die Welt, und dich zu erst vergessen! -
[276] FERDINAND. 161 Was soil ich dir sagen? Soil ich mich entschuldigen? Soil
ich versichern, dafi ich erst spat, erst ganz zuletzt des Vaters Absichten erfuhr,
dafi ich als ein gezwungenes Werckzeug seines Willens handelte? Was fruchtet's,
welche Meynung du von mir haben magst? Du bist verloren; und ich Ungliick-
licher stehe nur da, um dies zu versichern, um dich zu bejammern.
EGMONT. Welche sonderbare Stimme, welch ein unerwarteter262 {unverhoffter}
Trost begegnet {277}^ mir auf dem Weg zum Grabe? Du, Sohn meines ersten,
meines fast einzigen Feindes, du bedauerst mich, du bist nicht unter meinen
Mordern? Sage, rede! Fur wen soil ich dich halten?
FERDINAND. Grausamer Vater! Ja, ich erkenne dich in diesem Befehle! Du
kanntest mein Herz, meine Gesinnung. Mich dir gleich zu bilden, sandtest du
mich hieher. Diesen Mann am Rande des Grabes, in der Gewalt eines willkiihr-
lichen Todes zu sehen, zwingst du mich, dafi ich taub gegen alles Schicksal, dafi
ich unempfind=[278]lich werde, es geschehe mir, was da wolle!
EGMONT. Ich erstaune! Fasse dich! rede wie ein Mann!

FERDINAND. La8 diese Leidenschaft rasen, lafi mich losgebunden klagen! Ich
will nicht standhaft scheinen, wenn alles in mir zusammen bricht. Dich soil ich
hier sehn? - dich? - es ist entsetzlich! Du verstehst mich nicht! Und sollst du
mich verstehen? Egmont! Egmont! ihm um den Hals fallend.
[279] EGMONT. Lose mir das GeheimniKP64 Wie bewegt dich so tief das
Schicksal eines fremden Mannes?
FERDINAND. Nicht fremd! Du bist mir nicht fremd. Dein Nahme war's, der
mir in meiner ersten Jugend gleich einem Stern des Himmels entgegen leuch-
tete. Wie oft hab' ich nach dir gehorcht, gefragt! Des Kindes Hoffnung ist der
Jiingling, des Jiinglings der Mann. So bist du vor mir her geschritten; immer
vor, und ohn Neid sah ich dich vor, und schritt dir nach, und fort und fort.
Nun hofrt' [280] ich endlich zu sehen, und sah dich, und mein Herz flog dir
entgegen. Dich hatt' ich mir bestimmt, und wahlte dich aufs neue, da ich dich
sah.lfi5 Nun hofft' ich erst mit dir zu seyn, mil dir zu leben, dich zu fassen, dich
— das ist nun alles weggeschnitten, und ich sehe dich hier!
EGMONT. Mein Freund, wenn es dir wohl thun kann, so nimm die Versiche-
rung, dafi im ersten Augenblicke mein Gemiith dir entgegen kam. Und hore
mich. Lafi uns ein ruhiges Wort untereinander wechseln. Sage mir: ist es der
[281] strenge ernste Wille deines Vaters, mich zu todten?
FERDINAND. Er istS.
EGMONT. Dieses Urtheil ware nicht ein leeres Schreckenbild, mich zu angsti-
gen, durch Furcht und Drohung zu strafen,*66 mich zu erniedrigen, und dann
mit koniglicher Gnade mich wieder aufzuheben?
FERDINAND. Nein, ach leider nein. Anfangs schmeichelte ich mir mit dieser
ausweichenden Hoffnung, und schon da empfand ich Angst und Schmerz, dich
in diesem Zustand [282] zu sehen. Nun ist es wirklich, ist gewifi. Nein, ich re-
giere mich nicht. Wer giebt mir eine Hulfe, wer einen Rath, dem Unvermeidli-
chen zu entgehen.
EGMONT. So hore mich. Wenn deine Seele so gewaltsam dringt, mich zu retten,
wenn du die Ubermacht verabscheuest, die mich gefesselt halt, so rette mich!
Die Augenblicke sind kostbar. Du bist des Allgewaltigen Sohn, und selbst ge-
waltig.i67 Lafi uns entfliehen! Ich kenne die Wege; die Mittel konnen dir nicht
unbekannt seyn. Nur diese Mauern, [283] nur wenige Meilen, entfernen mich
von meinen Freunden. Bringe mich zu ihnen und sey unser. Gewifi, der Konig
dankt dir dereinst meine Rettung. Jetzt ist er iiberrascht, und vielleicht ist ihm
alles unbekannt. Dein Vater wagt; und die Majestat muf? das Geschehene billi-
gen, wenn sic sich auch dafur entsetzet.2158 O denke mir {— du siehst —} den Weg
der Freyhek aus! Sprich, und nahre die Hoffnung der lebendigen Seele.
FERDINAND. Schweig! O schweige! Du vermehrst mit jedem Worte meine
Verzweiflung. [284] Hier ist kein Ausweg, kein Rath, keine Fluent. - Ich habe
unwissend selbst das Netz zusammengezogen; ich kenne die strengen festen
Knoten; ich weifi, wie jeder Kiihnheit, jeder List die Wege verrennt sind.269
89 Egmont. Ein Trauerspielin drey Aufsiigen
Wiirde ich klagen, hatte ich nicht alles versucht? Zu seinen Fiifien habe ich ge-
legen, geredet und gebeten. Er schickt mich hierher, um alles, was von Lebens-
lust und Freude mit mir lebt, in diesem Augenblicke zu zerstoren.
EGMONT. Und keine Rettung?
[285] FERDINAND. Keine!
EGMONT. mit dem Fufie stampfend170 Keine Rettung! - Siifses Leben! schone,
freundliche Gewohnheit des Daseyns und Wirkens! Von dir soil ich scheiden!
so gelassen scheiden! Nicht im Tumulte der Schlacht, unter dem Gerausch der
Waffen {in der Zerstreuung des Getiimmels271}, giebst du mir ein fliichtiges
Lebewohl; du nimmst keinen eiligen Abschied.272 Ich soil deine Hand fassen,
dir noch einmal in die Augen sehen, {deine Schone} deinen Werth recht lebhaft
fuhlen {dann mich los reiBen}, und sagen: Fahre hin!
[286] FERDINAND. Du kannst dich fassen, du kannst entsagen, einen schweren
Schritt an der Hand der Nothwendigkeit heldenmafiig gehen. Was kann ich?
Was soil ich? Bey der Freude des Mahls habe ich mein Licht, im Getummel der
Schlacht meine Fahne verloren. Schal,273 verworren, triib, scheint mir die
Zukunft.
EGMONT. Junger Freund, den ich durch ein sonderbares Schicksal zugleich
gewinne und verliere, der fur mich die Todesschmerzen empfindet, fur mich
leidet, [287] sieh mich in diesen Augenblicken an; du verlierst mich nicht. War
dir mein Leben274 ein Spiegel, in welchem du dich gerne betrachtetest, so sey es
auch mein Tod. Die Menschen sind nicht nur zusammen, wenn sie
beysammen275 sind; auch der Entfernte, der Abgeschiedne lebt uns. Ich lebe dir,
und habe mir genug gelebt. Eines jeden Tages hab' ich mich gefreut; an jedem
Tage mit rascher Wirkung meine Pflicht gethan, wie mein Gewissen sie mir
zeigte. Nun endigt sich das Leben, wie es sich fruher schon auf dem Sande von
Gravelingen hatte endigen konnen. Ich hore auf zu [288] leben; aber ich habe
gelebt. So leb auch du, mein Freund, gern und mit Lust und scheue den Tod
nicht.
FERDINAND. Du hattest dich fur uns erhalten konnen, erhalten sollen. Du hast
dich selber getodtet. Oft hort ich, wenn kluge Manner iiber dich sprachen;
feindselige, wohlwollende; sie stritten lang iiber deinen Werth; doch endlich
vereinigten sie sich, keiner wagt' es zu laugnen, jeder gestand: "ja er wandelt ei-
nen gefahrlichen Weg."2y6 {Ich hatte} {Hattest du denn keine Freunde?}
EGMONT. {Es glaubt der Mensch, sein Leben zu leiten, sich selbst zu fuhren,
und sein Innerstes wird unwiderstehlich nach seinem Schicksale gezogen. Lafi
uns dariiber nicht sinnen! Leb wohl. Sage277} Lafi meine Leute dir aufs beste
empfoh=[289]len seyn! Ich habe gute Menschen zu Dienern, dafi sie nicht zer-
streut, nicht ungliicklich werden! Wie steht es um Richard, meinen Schreiber?
FERDINAND. Er ist dir vorangegangen. Sie haben ihn als Mitschuldigen des
Hochverraths enthauptet.
EGMONT. Arme Seele! - Noch Eins, und dann leb wohl, ich kann nicht mehr.
Was auch den Geist gewaltsam beschaftigt, fordert die Natur doch zuletzt
unwiderstehlich ihre Rechte; und wie ein Kind umwunden von der Schlange,
des er=[i9o]quickenden Schlafs geniefit, so legt der Miide sich noch einmal vor
der Pforte des Todes nieder und ruht tief aus, als ob er einen weiten Weg ge-
wandert hatte.278 - Noch eins - Ich kenne ein Madchen, du wirst sie nicht ver-
achten, weil sie mein war. Nun ich sie dir empfehle, sterb' ich ruhig. Du bist ein
edler Mann; ein Weib, das den findet, ist geborgen. Lebt mein Adolph? ist er
frey?
FERDINAND. Der muntre Greis, der Euch zu Pferdte immer begleitete?
[291] EGMONT. Derselbe.
FERDINAND. Er lebt, er ist frey.
EGMONT. Er weifi ihre Wohnung; lafi dich von ihm fuhren, und lohn' ihm bis
an sein Ende, dafi er dir den Weg zu diesem Kleinode zeigt - Leb' wohl!
FERDINAND. Ich gehe nicht.
EGMONT. ihn nach der Thiir drangend\j&> wohl!
FERDINAND. O lafi mich noch!
[292] EGMONT. Freund, keinen Abschied. Er begleitet Ferdinanden bis an die
Thiir und reiftt sich don von ihm los.
FERDINAND, betdubt, entfernt sich eilend.
Scene 7.^
Egmont allein.
Feindseliger Mann! Du glaubtest nicht, mir diese Wohlthat durch deinen Sohn zu
erzeigen. Durch ihn bin ich der Sorgen los und der Schmerzen, der Furcht und je-
des angstlichen Gefuhls. Sanft und dringend fordert die Natur [293] ihren letzten
Zoll. Es ist vorbey, es ist beschlossen! und was die letzte Nacht mich ungewif? auf
meinem Lager wachend hielt, das schlafert nun mil umbezwinglicher Gewifiheit
meine Sinne ein. Er setzt sich aufs Ruhebett: Musik vom Orchester^0 SiiKer Schlaf!
Du kommst wie ein reines Gliick ungebeten, unerfleht am willigsten. Du losest
die Knoten der strengen Gedancken, vermischest28' {verwischest} alle Bilder der
Freude und des Schmerzens; ungegliedert282 fliefit der Kreifi innerer Harmonien,
und eingehiillt in gefal=[294]283ligen Wahnsinn, versinken wir, und horen auf zu
seyn. Er entschlaft: die Musik vom Orchester begleitet seinen Schlummer, und wird
zuletzt vom kriegerischen Spiel hinter der Szene unterbrochen. Von dem Getofte der
Trommeln erwacht Egmont, greift nach dem Haupte, richtet sich in die Hohe, und
scheint, sich mit Miihe zu besinnen. Endlich steht er auf; die Musik schweigt; er
kommt vorwarts.2**
Verschwunden285 ist der Kranz - ein Traum hat mich getauscht! Ein paradie-
sisch schoner Traum! - Ich sahe [295] sie - zu mir herunter stieg ein gottliches
Bild - es kam von oben - doch halt' es alle Ziige meiner Klara. - Sie schwan
die Siegespalme286 mir entgegen287 - zeigte mir von fern ein frohlich Volck zum
91 Egmont. Ein Trauerspielin dreyAufziigen
lauten Ufer wimmelnd und Segel zahlenlos im Winde flatternd;288 und driickte
leise mir den Lorbeer auf das Haupt. - Es war mein Klarchen, war mein Vater-
land. Zusammen in ein Bildnifi flofien sie, die beyden schonsten Freuden mei-
nes Herzens. In einem ernsten Augenblick erschienen sie vereinigt, ernster noch
als lieblich. Mil Blut befleckten [296] Sohlen trat sie vor mir auf, des Kleides
Saum mit Blut befleckt. Es war mein Blut und vieler Edeln Blut. Nein, es war
nicht umsonst vergossen - Schreitet durch! - braves Volck! Die Sieges Gottin
fiihrt dich an. Und wie das Meer durch cure Damme bricht, so bricht, so reifit
den Wall der Tyranney zusammen, und schwemmt sie ersaufend von dem
Grunde, den sie sich anmaafit weg.289 Die Trommeln kommen ndber Horch!
Horch! Wie oft hat dieser Schall mich schon zum freyen Schritt ins kriegerische
Feld gerufen! [297] Wie munter treten die Gefahrten auf der gefahrenvollen
Bahn einher!290 - Auch ich schreite einem ehrenvollen Tod aus diesem Kerker
entgegen. Furs Vaterland291 starb ich, dir, fur das ich sonst gelebt, gehandelt,191
bring ich mich jetzt leidend zum Opfer.
Scene 8.^
Egmont. Der Hintergrundfiillt sich mit spanischen Soldaten.
EGMONT. 294 Ja! fiihrt sie mir zusammen. Schliefit nur cure Reihen, ihr schreckt
mich nicht. Ich bin gewohnt, vor Speeren [298] gegen Speere zu stehen, und
rings umgeben von dem drohenden Tod, das muthige Leben nur doppelt rasch
zu fiihlen. Trommeln.^ Dich schliefit der Feind von alien Seiten ein. Es blinken
Schwerter. Wohlan! mit frohem Muth dem Tod entgegen.296 {Freunde, hoheren
Muth! Im Riicken habt ihr Eltern, Weiber, Kinder!}297 auf die Wache zeigend*9*
Diese treibt ein hohles Wort des Herrschers, nicht ihr Gemiith. Freunde,
schiitzt cure Giither, und euer Liebstes zu erretten, fallt freudig, wie ich Euch
ein Beyspiel gebe.2" [299] Wie er auf die Wache zugeht, wird die Kriegs-Musik
lebhafter.
Ende.
3 From Text to Performance
SCHILLER S ADAPTATION
After publication of Egmont in 1788 Goethe was fully expecting a theatrical suc-
cess, but the play's premiere in Mainz and Frankfurt on January 9 and May 15,
1789 by Siegfried Gotthelf Eckardts troupe, the second production by Bellomo's
company in Weimar (1791), as well as the third in Vienna in the same
year would soon deflate him.1 After nursing his initial disappointment, Goethe
turned to Schiller in 1794 for help, " 'Egmont' fur das Weimarische Theater zu
korrigieren,"1 but the play remained in its original form until the spring of
1796. Schiller already knew Egmont well, having reviewed it (anonymously) for
the Jena Allgemeine Literatur-Zeitung (20 Sept. 1788). Despite his admiration for
Goedie's creative genius, for his depiction of the citizens, the characters of Mar-
garete, Alba and Klarchen, as well as a few other scenes (Egmont and Ferdinand
in the prison, Brackenburg's monologue), Schiller had major difficulties with
the dramatization of the central character. In the original, historical Egmont
he saw tragic potential, but not in the dreamier, at times flighty, Egmont of
Goethe's imagination.
What made Schiller finally get to work on the adaptation was the news that
the most accomplished German actor of the day was to come to Weimar for a
guest appearance. The promise of Iffland's involvement stimulated him to pro-
duce the rewritten version in an astounding two weeks. By April 7 it was ready,
and on April 25 it was performed with Iffland in the lead role. The fact that the
arrival of an accomplished actor triggered Schiller's adaptation was a signpost
for the future: the future of this play lay in the talent of the actors and the effec-
tiveness of the performance, not in its text. Schiller knew this, and since 1791 he
had also developed a personal interest in exploring the material: "Gearbeitet
habe ich unter diesen Umstanden freilich nichts fur meinen eigenen Heerd;
aber der Egmont hat mich doch interessiert, und ist mir fur meinen Wallenstein
keine unniitzliche Vorbereitung gewesen" (letter of April 10, 1796 to friend
Christian Gottfried Korner 1756-1831, Schillers Werke, Nationalausgabe, xxvni,
211). Schiller's adaptation of Egmont was his first attempt to rework any of
Goethe's dramas for the theatre, and hence marks the beginning of a renowned
collaboration. As things turned out, the 1798 production of Wallenstein in
Weimar under Goethe's direction became their first shared theatre coup and to
a great extent was vital for the success of that stage in the future. Egmont was
thus a paradigm for the relationship between Goethe and Schiller as well as for
productions on the Weimar stage.
Goethe's famous reaction to the adaptation was recorded some years later in
the essay "LJber das deutsche Theater" (1815): "Dafi auch Schiller bei seiner Re-
daction grausam verfahren, davon iiberzeugt man sich bei Vergleichung nachsteh-
ender Scenenfolge mit dem gedruckten Stiicke selbst. ... und doch ist in
Schillers Arbeit eine solche Consequenz, dafi man nicht gewagt hat, sie wieder
einzulegen, weil andre Miftverhaltnisse in die gegenwartige Form sich einschlei-
chen wiirden" (WA I, 40, 91). Near the end of his life he had not changed his
opinion, recalling Schillers penchant for the violent, yet musing to Eckermann:
"Schillers Talent war recht furs Theater geschaffen. Mit jedem Snick schritt er
vor und ward er vollendeter ... Er war ein wunderlicher grofier Mensch" (18 Jan.
1825, Gesprtiche mit Eckermann, ,M/4xix, 130). By 1796, Goethe had despaired of
Egmont's success on the stage, so being able to entrust it anew to Schiller was a
welcome release. Rather than collaboration, in fact, it is more appropriate to
speak of handing over to Schiller rights to the play simply to get it off his other-
wise busy hands. When Eckermann doubted Goethe's wisdom - "dafi Sie in
einem so wichtigen Fall ihm [Schiller] so unbedingte Freiheit gegeben" - the
aged poet replied: "Man ist oft gleichgiiltiger als billig ... Und dann war ich in
jener Zeit mit anderen Dingen tief beschaftigt. Ich hatte so wenig ein Interesse
fur Egmont wie fur das Theater; ich liefi ihn gewahren," adding that he was now
relieved to see that many theatres had since found the sense to play it in its origi-
nal form once again (MA xix, 290). Goethe instinctively disliked much of what
Schiller had done to his Egmont, but appreciated the theatrical talent that made
the play succeed where it had failed before, and even after Schiller's death in 1805,
and until the end of his tenure as director, Goethe retained most features of the
adaptation for performances in Weimar. It had been performed there this way
twenty-one times by 1816 (including performances on the peripheral stages of
Lauchstadt 4, Leipzig 2, and Halle i; Borcherdt, 359), and after Goethe's tenure as
director it was performed eighty more times between 1818 and 1906 (Bartels, 9).
Other major theatres followed suit. Egmont in Schiller's adaptation was
performed in 1801 and 1808 in Berlin; at the Nationaltheater in Mannheim thir-

teen times between 1806 and 1832 (see Fambach), in Leipzig in 1807, in Frankfurt
from 1825, in Munich in 1812 and 1813, and in Hamburg in 1818 (Borcherdt, 359),
even if constantly reworked. With the addition of Beethoven's musical score in
1810 it remained the case that Schiller's version was often played, and in chapter 9
it will be seen that this continues to apply in modern times.
In terms of text, the Mannheim manuscript is fundamentally Schiller's adap-
tation of Goethe's Egmont, with many variations. In chapter i the reasons for
focussing on it were related mainly to questions of textual and editing history.
In terms of performance, the Mannheim manuscript has a unique quality be-
cause of its massive deletions and many extratextual emendations which clearly
led to considerable rearrangement in production.3 I begin widi the outline of
the structural relationship between Goethe's and Schiller's versions provided by
Borcherdt (325-6, similarly Siedhoff and Gopfert):
Goethe Schiller
i i Armbrustschiefien i, i
2 Palast der Regentin fehlt
3 Biirgerhaus zum Teil n, 4,6
ii i Platz in Briissel i, 2, 3, 4, 5
2 Egmonts Wohnung i, 6, 7, 8,10
in i Palast der Regentin fehlt
2 Klarchens Wohnung 11, 7, 8, 9
iv i StraSe n, i, 2,3
2 Der Culenburg. Palast n, 13-21
v i Strafie n, 23-25
2 Gefangnis m, 4
3 Klarchens Haus 111,1-3
4 Gefangnis in, 5-9.
Conversely:
Schiller Goethe
i i Armbrustschiefien i, i
2-5 Armbrustschiefien n, i
6—8 Zimmer bei Egmont 11,2
9 Zimmer bei Egmont neu
10 Zimmer bei Egmont n, 2
n 1-3 Strafie iv, i
4 Biirgerliches Zimmer i, 3
5 Biirgerliches Zimmer neu
6 Biirgerliches Zimmer i, 3
7-9 Biirgerliches Zimmer in, 2
10—ii Biirgerliches Zimmer4 neu

13-21 Zimmer in einem Palast iv, 2
22 Strafie neu
23-25 Strafie v, i
in 1-3 Biirgerliches Zimmer v, 3
4 Gefangnis v, 2
5-9 Gefangnis v, 4.
Noticeable from this comparison is the drastic reduction of scenic locations

from Goethe's original ten to six and the concentration on these. This has not
escaped the attention of critics, who have seen it as primarily a practical strategy
to facilitate production in the light of technical problems at that time. This may
well be so, but the consequence was also an intensification of the scenic images.
One would expect as a result of the reduction of the number of locations an in-
crease in static impression, not in action, i.e., the opposite of what is assumed to
have been Schiller's purpose. In addressing the technical difficulties of perform-
ing the play with too many scene changes, Schiller was, on the one hand under-
mining his own efforts to increase the dramatic effectiveness of Egmont, but at
the same time he was reinforcing an essential dimension of Goethe's dramatic
concept - the power of the image. On the other hand, through his changes to
the text and characters of the play as well as other textual revisions, Schiller
heightened the dramatic elements considerably.
Schiller's reduction of the five acts to three, his cuts to thirteen scenic divi-
sions, rearrangement of scenes, deletion of characters (Margarete, Machiavell),
and paring of speeches have also been largely - and rightly - understood to be
his attempt to make production of the play simpler and dramatically more strik-
ing. There is little doubt indeed that in this he was thinking primarily of perfor-
mance rather than text, intellectual or thematic thrust. The reduction in the
number of characters sharpened the focus on those remaining. Looking at
Schiller's version from the point of view of characterization, his arrangement
clearly highlights each of the major characters intensively for one, two, in one
instance three sequences, in a more concentrated fashion than in Goethe's origi-
nal (dominant character in italics):
i 1-5 Armbrustschiefien Biirger'', Soldaten, Egmont

6-10 Zimmer bei Egmont Egmont, Richard, Oranien
ii 1-3 Strafie Burger
4-11 Biirgerliches Zimmer Kldrchen, Mutter,
Brackenburg, Egmont,
Richard
13-21 Zimmer in einem Palast Alba, Silva, Gomez,
Ferdinand, Egmont
22-25 Strafie Kldrchen, Brackenburg,
in 1-2 Biirgerliches Zimmer Klarchen, Brackenburg,

Burger
4—9 Gefangnis Egmont, Ferdinand, Silva,
(Vermummte)
Because of the sharper focus there is less chance for character development here,
more emphasis on character profiling. It is as if we had four portraits painted
on stage, the Burger, Egmont, Klarchen and Alba. However, Schiller's concen-
tration and heightening of the citizen scenes is noticeable, in Act i to show the
spirit and indignation of the citizens at the potential loss of their historical
rights, then in Act u to show their emerging cowardice in the face of intimida-
tion by the Spanish occupation force. Similarly, Klarchen, with three points of
focus, has room for character development as well.
Klarchen and Egmont become, in Schiller, more distinct than in Goethe, and
their sociopolitical engagement more pronounced. They become not just fig-
ures, but figureheads, active role models for citizens against an oppressive des
pot. With Margarete gone, and through the gathering of Klarchen's scenes into
three clusters, Klarchen stands out as the only important female character; she
is more sharply focussed than before. She becomes a powerhouse among men
and a revolutionary, upbraiding the insipid Brackenburg for his suicide attempt
[144-5], and attempting to rally the citizenry. As a consequence of this profiling,
Klarchen's relationship with Egmont also gainhs in intensity. He is much more a
freedom fighter than Goethe's reflective social philosopher. Alba undergoes a
similar change through a radical reduction of dialogue, and particularly through
Schiller's new scene in, 6 in which he appears as "Ein Vermummter," exposed
not through language, but purely visually at the climactic conclusion.
In sum, Schiller's adaptation increased the dramatic effectiveness of Goethe's
Egmont by shrinking the dialogue, focussing the characterizations, and intensi-
fying visual images. I now turn to the Mannheim manuscript to consider how it
converted Schiller's text into performance.
SCHILLER AND THE MANNHEIM MANUSCRIPT
As the manuscript clearly follows Schiller's adaptation, what has been observed
above certainly holds true here as well. Yet the many later textual emendations,
as recorded in the notes to the previous chapter, must now be evaluated. They
include a host of deleted and rearranged passages. Not shown in the footnotes,
however, are the omission from the manuscript of substantial parts of Schiller's
text, and this must also be part of our consideration now. All of these variants are
arranged and summarized below (along with their source, if known), as follows:
A Portions of Schiller's text altered in the manuscript or omitted from it by the

scribe;
B Emendations to the manuscript text by later hands;
c Extratextual markings by later hands indicating substantial deletions to the

scribal text;
D Extratextual markings pertaining to aspects of performance.
(Abbreviations: G=Goethe; S=Schiller, page references are to the Nationalaus-

gabe; M=Manuscript; emphasis through italics in dialogue quotations of sec-
tions A, B and C, intended to make clear the variants within their contexts, is
my own, as are comments in pointed brackets.)
A Portions of Schiller's text altered in the manuscript or

omitted from it by the scribe.
While the manuscript contains hundreds of differences from Schiller's text, only
those with greater significance are listed below. Their number and import leave
no doubt that they are not the result of accident or copyist's error, but are inten-
tional, and their frequent source in Goethe's original shows just as plainly that
the copyist was consulting both sources throughout.
Act i
AI s: 7, 30 JETTER. Den nicht zu vergessen! Das ist ein rechter Wall: wenn
man nur an ihn denkt, meint man gleich, man konne sich hinter ihn verstek-
ken, und der Teufel brachte einen nicht hervor. Hoch! Wilhelm von Oranien,
hoch! <from G>
M: 26 JETTER. Den nicht zu vergessen! <omission> Hoch! Wilhelm von
Oranien, hoch!
A2 s: 8, 30 ALLE. ... Ordnung und Freiheit! <from G>

M: 32 ALLE. ... Ordnung und Gewissens-Freyheit!
A3 s: n, 22 VANS EN. ... Wie sie einem Herrn gram wurden, fingen sie ihm
etwa seinen Sohn und Erben weg, hielten ihn bei sich und gaben ihn nur auf
die besten Bedingungen heraus. <from G>
M: 43 <missing>
A4 s: n, 29 SEIFENSIEDER. Was sprecht ihr von Freiheken? <from G>

M: 44 SEIFENSIEDER. Was sprecht Ihr von Privilegien?
A5 s: 13, 15 ALLE BURGER, im Handgemenge zusammen. Freiheit und Privile-

gien! Privilegien und Freiheit! <from G>
M: 52 ALLE BURGER, im Handgemenge zusammen. Unsre Privilegien! Privi-

legien und Gewissens-Freyheit!
A(5 s: 18,19 EGMONT. ... Ich soil leben, wie ich nicht leben mag. <from G>
M: 74 EGMONT. ... ich soil leben, wie ich nicht leben kann, wie ich nicht
leben mag.
Act ii
Ay s: 2.6,19 JETTER. O unsre Freiheit! <from G>

M: in JETTER. O unsre gute alte Verfassung!
A8 s: 34, i BRACKENBURG. ... "Brutus' Rede fur die Freiheit" <from G>
M: 146 BRACKENBURG. ... "Brutus' Rede fur das Vaterland"
A S:
9 35> 9 <missing>
M: 150 KLARCHEN. Lied <From G> The text of the song does not appear
in the manuscript. Schiller deleted Goethe's song for Kla'rchen, which reads:
Glucklich allein
1st die Seele, die liebt.
Freudvoll
Und leidvoll,
Gedankenvoll sein;
Langen
Und bangen
In schwebender Pein;
Himmelhoch jauchzend
Zum Tode betriibt;
Glucklich allein
1st die Seele, die liebt.
AID S: 36, 41 in der Schlacht! <missing>

M: 159 in der Schlacht! zweytes Lied
AII s: 42, 4 EGMONT. ... Ich bleibe - werde horen, was er will! Zu Richard.
Geh du indes voran. Ich folge gleich. Richardgeht langsam und unschliissig.
EGMONT. ihn zuriickrufend. Und hore! - Zu sehr schon haben ihn die andern
merken lassen, dafi sie ihn scheuen - furchten. Ich will ihm diese Lust nicht
machen. Geh - und lade alle meine Freunde - meine Diener auf einen Jubel ein
auf diese Nacht. — Er wirds erwarten, dal? wir sorgend harren, was uns der Mor-
gen bringen werde. Gut! Wir wollen ihm mit unsrer lauten Lust die ganze
Nacht verderben. Klarchen umarmend.
M: 179 EGMONT. ... Ich bleibe — werde horen, was er will! <missing>
Kldrchen umarmend.
Ai2 s: 46, 23 ALBA. Es ist beschlossen, sie festzuhalten. - Du erstaunst. Was du zu

tun hast, hore! Die Ursachen sollst du wissen, wenn es geschehn ist - jetzt bleibt
keine Zeit, sie auszulegen. Mit dir allein wiinscht' ich das GroSte, das Geheimste
zu besprechen: ein starkes Band halt uns zusammengefesselt, du bist mir wert und
lieb, auf dich mocht' ich alles haufen. Nicht die Gewohnheit zu gehorchen allein
mocht ich dir einpragen, auch den Sinn ausdriicken, zu befehlen, auszufuhren
wiinscht ich in dir fbrtzupflanzen, dich mit dem Besten, was ich habe, auszustat-
ten, dafi du dich nicht schamen diirfest, unter deine Briider zu treten.
FERDINAND. Was werd' ich dir nicht fur diese Liebe schuldig, die du mir allein
zuwendest, indem ein ganzes Reich vor dir zittert. <from G>
ALBA. Nun hore ...
M : 199 ALBA. Es ist beschlossen, sie fest zu halten - <missing> Nun hore ...
Ai3 s: 49, 41 EGMONT. ... es sei desKonigsAbsichtv/eniger, die Provinzen nach

einformigen und klaren Gesetzen zu regieren, als vielmehr sie unbedingt zu
unterjochen, sie ihrer alien Rechte zu berauben, sich Meister von ihren Besitz-
tumern zu machen, die schonen Rechte des Adels einzuschranken, um derent-
willen der Edle allein ihm Leib und Leben widmen mag. <from G>
M: 213 EGMONT. ... es sey die spanische Absicht weniger, die Provinzen
nach einformigen und klaren Gesetzen zu regieren, als vielmehr, sie unbedingt
zu unterjochen, sie ihrer alien Rechte zu berauben, sich Meister [214] von ihren
Besitzthiimern zu machen, die schonen Rechte des Adels einzuschranken, um
derentwillen der Edle allein dem KonigLelb und Leben widmen mag.
Ai4 s: 50,16 ALBA. ... Ware es nicht besser, abzudanken, als ein solches Volk
zu regieren? Weit besser ist's, sie einzuengen, dafi man sie wie Kinder halten, wie
Kinder zu ihrem Besten leiten kann. Glaube nur, ein Volk wird nicht alt, nicht
klug; ein Volk bleibt immer kindisch.
EGMONT. Wie selten kommt ein Konig zu Verstand! Undsollen sich viele nicht lie-
ber vielen vertrauen ah einem? Und nicht einmal dem einen, sondern den wenigen
des einen, dem Volke, das an den Blicken seines Herrn altert. Das hat wohl allein
das Recht, klug zu werden. <from G>
ALBA. Vielleicht eben darum, weiles sick nicht selbst iiberlassen ist.
EGMONT. Und darum niemandgern sich selbst iiberlassen mochte. Man tue, was
man will; ich habe auf deine Frage geantwortet und wiederhole: Es geht nicht!
M : 215 ALBA. ... Ware es nicht besser abzudanken, als ein solches Volck zu
regieren? Weit besser ist's, sie einzuengen, dafi man sie wie Kinder halten, wie
Kinder zu ihrem Besten leiten kann. <missing>
EGMONT. Man thue, was man will; ich habe auf deine Frage geantwortet, und
wiederhohle: Es geht nicht!
ioo Images of Goethe through Schiller's Egmont
AI5 s: 50, 38 ALBA, der sick indes einigemctl umgesehen hat. Solltest du das alles
in des Konigs Gegenwart wiederholen?
EGMONT. Desto schlimmer, wenn mich seine Gegenwart abschreckte! Desto
besserfur ihn, fur sein Volk, wenn er mir Mut machte, noch mehr zu sagen.
ALBA. Was nutzlich ist, kann ich horen wie er.
EGMONT. Ich wiirde ihm sagen: Leicht kann der Hirt eine ganze Herde Schafe
vor sich hintreiben, der Stier zieht seinen Pflug ohne Widerstand; aber dem
edlen Pferde, das du reiten willst, muEt du seine Gedanken ablernen, du muEt
niches Unkluges, nichts unklug von ihm verlangen. Darum wiinscht der Burger
seine alte Verfassung zu behalten, von seinen Landsleuten regiert zu sein, weil er
weifi, wie er gefuhrt wird, weil er von ihnen Uneigennutz, Teilnehmung an
seinem Schicksal hoffen kann.
ALBA. Und sollte der Regent nicht Macht haben, dieses alte Herkommen zu
verandern? Und sollte nicht eben dies sein schonstes Vorrecht sein? Was ist
bleibend auf dieser Welt? Und sollte eine Staatseinrichtung bleiben konnen? Ich
furchte, diese alten Rechte sind darum so angenehm, weil sie Schlupfwinkel
bilden, in welchen der Kluge, der Machtige zum Schaden des Volks, zum
Schaden des Ganzen sich verbergen oder durchschleichen kann.
EGMONT. Und diese willkiirlichen Veranderungen, sind sie nicht Vorboten, daE
einer tun will, was tausende nicht tun sollen? Er will sich allein frei machen, um
jeden seiner Wiinsche befriedigen zu konnen. Und wenn wir uns ihm, einem
guten, weisen Konige, ganz vertrauten, sagt er uns fur seine Nachkommen
{,seine Stellvertreter} gut? Wer rettet uns von volliger Willkiir, wenn er uns seine
Diener, seine Nachsten sendet, die ohne Kenntnis des Landes nach Belieben
schalten und walten, keinen Widerstand finden und sich von jeder Verantwor-
tung frei wissen?
ALBA, der sich indes wieder umgesehen hat. Es ist nichts natiirlicher, als daE ein
Konig durch sich zu herrschen gedenkt und denen seine Befehle am liebsten
auftragt, die ihn am besten verstehen, verstehen wollen, die seinen Willen unbe-
dingt ausrichten.
EGMONT. Und ebenso natiirlich ist's, daE der Burger von dem regiert sein will,
der mit ihm geboren und erzogen ist, der gleichen Begriff mit ihm von Recht
und Unrecht gefaEt hat, den er als seinen Bruder ansehen kann.
ALBA. Und doch hat der Adel mit diesen seinen Briidern sehr ungleich geteilt.
EGMONT. Das ist vor Jahrhunderten geschehen und wird jetzt ohne Neid gedul-
det. Wiirden aber neue Menschen ohne Not gesendet, die sich zum zweiten Male
auf Unkosten der Nation bereichern wollten, das wiirde eine Garung machen,
die sich nicht leicht in sich selbst aufloste.
ALBA. Du sagst mir, was ich nicht horen sollte; auch ich bin fremd.
EGMONT. DaE ich dir's sage, zeigt dir, daE ich dich nicht meine.
ALBA. Und auch so wiinscht ich es nicht von dir zu horen. Der Konig sandte
mich mit Hoffnung, daE ich hier den Beistand des Adels finden wiirde. Der
Konig will seinen Willen. Der Konig hat nach tiefer Uberlegung gesehen, was
ioi From Text to Performance
dem Volke frommt; es kann nicht bleiben und gehen wie bisher. Des Konigs
Absicht 1st, sie selbst zu ihrem eigenen Besten einzuschranken, ihr eigenes Heil,
wenn's sein mufi, ihnen aufzudringen, die schadlichen Burger aufzuopfern,
damit die iibrigen Ruhe finden, des Gliicks einer weisen Regierung geniefien
konnen. Dies ist sein Entschlufi; diesen dem Adel kund zu machen, habe ich
Befehl; und Rat verlang' ich in seinem Namen, wie es zu tun sei, nicht was;
denn das hat er beschlossen.
EGMONT. Leider rechtfertigen deine Worte die Furcht des Volks, die allgemeine
Furcht! So hat er denn beschlossen, was kein Fiirst beschlief?en sollte. Die Kraft
seines Volks, ihr Gemiit, den Begriff, den sie von sich selbst haben, will er
schwachen, niederdriicken, zerstoren, um sie bequem regieren zu konnen. Er
will den inneren Kern ihrer Eigenheit verderben; gewifi in der Absicht, sie
gliicklicher zu machen. Er will sie vernichten, damit sie etwas werden, ein ander
Etwas. Oh, wenn seine Absicht gut ist, so wird sie mifigeleitet. Nicht dem
Konige widersetzt man sich; man stellt sich nur dem Konige entgegen, der,
einen falschen Weg zu wandeln, die ersten ungliicklichen Schritte macht.
zu wollen. <from G, with {...} inserted by S>
M: 217 ALBA, der sich indefi einigemal umgesehen /wrSolltest du das alles in
des Konigs Gegenwart wiederhohlen?
EGMONT. Gut fur ihn, fur sein Volck, wenn er mir Muth machte, noch mehr
zu sagen.
<extensive passages then missing>
zu wollen.
Ai6 s: 63, 28 KLARCHEN. ... "Egmonts Freiheit oder den Tod."

M: 232 KLARCHEN. ... Egmonts Befreyung <replacing "Freiheit" in G and
S 55, 38> oder den Tod!
Ai7 s: 56,15 BRACKENBURG. Liebes Klarchen, wir wollen gehen! Was wird die
Mutter sagen? Vielleicht -
KLARCHEN. Meinst du, ich sei ein Kind? Was kann vielleicht? - Von dieser
schrecklichen Gewifiheit bringst du mich mit keiner Hoffnung weg. - Ihr sollt
mich horen, und ihr werdet; denn ich sehs, ihr seid bestiirzt und konnt euch
selbst in euerm Busen nicht wiederfinden. Lai?t durch die gegenwartige Gefahr
nur einen Blick in das Vergangne dringen, das kurz Vergangne! {Denkt an die}
Zukunft! Konnt ihr denn leben, werdet ihr, wenn er zugrunde geht? Mit seinem
Atem flieht der letzte Hauch der Freiheit. Was war er euch? Fur wen iibergab er
sich der dringendsten Gefahr? Seine Wunden flossen und heilten nur fur euch.
Die grof?e Seele, die euch alle trug, beschrankt ein Kerker, und Schauer tiicki-
sches Mordes schweben um sie her. Er denkt vielleicht an euch, er hofrt auf euch,
ioz Images of Goethe through Schiller's Egmont
er, der nur zu geben, nur zu erfiillen gewohnt war. <from G, edited by Schiller>
ZIMMERMEISTER. Gevatter, kommt!
M: 234 BRACKENBURG. Liebes Klarchen! Wir wollen gehen! Was wird die
Mutter sagen? Vielleicht -
•clong Klarchen speech missing>
ZIMMERMEISTER. Gevatter, kommt.
Act in
Ai8 s: 58, ii KLARCHEN. ... Nachricht? Entsetzliche Gewifiheit? - Egmont

verurteih! — Welch Gericht darf ihn fordern? Und sie verdammen ihn! Die Re-
gentin entzieht sich! Oranien zaudert und alle seine Freunde! - 1st dies die
Welt, von deren Wankelmut ich viel gehort und nichts empfiinden? 1st dies die
Welt? — Wer ware bos genug, den Teuren anzufeinden? Doch 1st es so — es ist!
O Egmont, sicher hielt ich dich vor Gott und Menschen wie in meinen Armen!
<from G>
M: 240 KLARCHEN. ... Nachricht? entsetzliche Gewifiheit? <portion miss-
ing> - O Egmont, sicher hielt ich dich vor Gott und Menschen, wie in meinen
Armen!
Aig s: 64, 6 EGMONT. <allein im Gefangnis> ... Ach Klarchen, warst du ein
Mann! ich sahe dich gewifi auch hier zuerst und dankte dir, was einem Konige zu
danken hart ist — Freiheit!
M: 264 EGMONT. <allein im Gefangnis> ... Ach! Klarchen! Warst du <ein>
Mann! ich sahe dich gewifi auch hier zuerst und dankte dir meine Freyheit.
A2O s: 64, ii Funfter Aufiritt ... Egmont. Ferdinand und Silva, von einem Ver-
mummten und einigen Gewaffneten begleitet...
M: 265 Scene 5. ... Egmont. Ferdinand und Silva. Von zwey Vermummten
und einigen Gewaffneten begleitet...
A2i s: 65,16 Sechster Auftritt Egmont. Ferdinand. £terVermummte aWeinige

Fackeltrager
M: 270 Scene 6. Egmont. Ferdinand. Zwey Fackeltrager.
A22 s: 65, 24 Geh! Sag ihm, sag ihm, dafi er weder mich noch die Welt beliigt!
Er bemerkt den Vermummten, sieht ihn eine Weile forschend an, fdhrt dann fort,
die Worte zum Teil an diesen richtend. Ihm, dem Ruhmsiichtigen, ...
M: 271 Geh! Sag ihm, daf? er weder mich noch die Welt beliigt. Ihm, dem
Ruhmsiichtigen, ...
A23 s: 66, 7 EGMONT. ... Nun trifrt mich sein Geschofi. Sag ihm, dafi ichs
weifi, da8 ich ihn kenne, dafi die Welt ihn kennen wird - da6 sie ihm friiher
IO3 From Text to Performance
oder sparer die Larve abreiSen wird indem er schnell aufden Vermummten zugeht
und ihm das Gesicht entblofit, wie ich sie ihm jetzt hier abreifie. Man erkennt den
Herzog von Alba, der schnell sick entfernt.
Siebenter Auftritt
Egmont, Ferdinand noch immer unbeweglich stehend
EGMONT nach einer Pause. O des klaglichen Tyrannen - Todesurteile kann er

schreiben, aber den Blick des bessern Mannes kann er nicht aushalten. Zu Ferdi-
nand. Stehst du noch hier? Warum folgst du ihm nicht? Schame dich nur -
scha'me dich fur den, den du gerne von ganzem Herzen verehren mochtest.
FERDINAND. Ich hore dich an, ohne dich zu unterbrechen, ...
M: 273 EGMONT. ... Nun trifft mich sein Geschofi. Sag ihm, dafi ich ihn
kenne, dafi die Welt jedes Sieges-Zeichen verachtet - das ein kleiner Geist sich
erschleichend aufrichtet. Und du - wenn einem Sohn moglich ist, von der Sitte
des Vaters zu weichen, ube bey Zeiten die Schaam, indem du dich fur den
schamst, den du gerne von ganzem Herzen verehren mochtest. <from G, dele-
ted by S; there is no new scene in the manuscript>
FERDINAND. Ich hore dich an, ohne dich zu unterbrechen!
A24 s: 68, 42 EGMONT. Fahre hin!

FERDINAND. Und ich soil daneben stehn, zusehn, dich nicht halten, nicht
hindern konnen! Oh, welches Herz flosse nicht aus seinen Banden vor diesem
Jammer!
EGMONT. Fasse dich!
FERDINAND. Du kannst dich fassen, ... <from G>
M: 285 EGMONT. ... Fahre hin!
FERDINAND. Du kannst dich fassen, ...
A25 s: 69, 25 FERDINAND. ... "Ja, er wandelt einen gefahrlichen Weg." Wie
oft wiinscht' ich, dich warnen zu konnen! Hattest du denn keine Freunde?
EGMONT. Ich war gewarnt.
FERDINAND. Und wie ich punktweise alle diese Beschuldigungen wieder in der
Anklage fand und deine Antworten! Gut genug, dich zu entschuldigen, nicht
triftig genug, dich von der Schuld zu befreien. —
EGMONT. Dies sei beiseite gelegt! Es glaubt der Mensch, sein Leben zu leiten,
sich selbst zu fiihren, und sein Innerstes wird unwiderstehlich nach seinem
Schicksale gezogen. Lafi uns dariiber nicht sinnen; dieser Gedanken entschlag'
ich mich leicht - schwerer der Sorge fur dieses Land; doch auch dafur wird
gesorgt sein. Kann mein Blut fiir viele fliefien, meinem Volk Friede bringen, so
fliefst es willig. Leider wird's nicht so werden. Doch es ziemt dem Menschen,
nicht mehr zu griibeln, wo er nicht mehr wirken soil. Kannst du die verder-
IO4 Images of Goethe through Schiller's Egmont
bende Gewalt deines Vaters aufhalten, lenken, so tus! Wer wird das konnen? -
Leb wohl!
FERDINAND. Ich kann nicht gehn.
EGMONT. LaE meine Leute dir aufs beste empfohlen sein! <from G>
M: 288 FERDINAND. ... ja er wandelt einen gefahrlichen Weg.
<passage missing>
EGMONT. Lafi meine Leute dir aufs beste empfohlen seyn!
A2.6 s: 71, 24 EGMONT. Sie schwang den Hut der Freiheit mir entgegen
M: 295 Sie schwang die Siegespalme mir entgegen
A2y s: 72,15 EGMONT. Es blinken Schwerter. Freunde, hohern Mut! ....

M: 298 EGMONT. Es blinken Schwerter. Wohian! mit frohem Muth dem
Tod entgegen
Commentary
Such is the sum of die meaningful differences between the scribe's product and
Schiller's text. All of the main characters or character groups are affected. The
Burger show a considerable change in character, treading a safer path than in
Schiller when they discuss recent developments in civil rights and their relation-
ship to their lord. Jetter's cry to rally around Oranien, "ein rechter Wall ... man
konne sich hinter ihn verstecken" (AI) disappears from dieir toast, and their
calls for "Freiheit" in Schiller become a qualified "Gewissens-Freyheit" (A2). Sei-
fensieder asks no longer about dieir "Freiheiten," but rather about their "Privi-
legien" (A4), and the citizens respond no longer with "Freiheit und Privilegien!
Privilegien und Freiheit!" but with "Unsre Privilegien! Privilegien und Gewis-
sens-Freyheit" (A5). The difference between freedom and privileges is more than
semantic in the history of civil rights, the latter implies an erosion of personal
liberty which stretches down to the earliest years of social formation. These citi-
zens want the privileges which they as citizens of a city have over other social
groups, for example the city proletariat or the peasants. This is a vested interest
as opposed to a desire for social liberty. Brackenburg's account of his school as-
signment in rhetoric is no longer "Brutus' Rede fur die Freiheit" but his "Rede
fur das Vaterland" (A8), suggesting a narrow patriotism and loyalty to the state
instead of personal freedom. Through these changes the citizens are in effect
robbed of their sense of freedom, trading it for political equivalents which do
not mean the same thing. As Jetter, who cries "O unsre gute alte Verfassung" in-
stead of Schiller's "O unsre Freiheit," they have come to believe that a political
document is the answer, not their internal sense or instinct. They have become
epigones of freedom who can only long for a time when the people were active
agents in their own liberty - "Wie sie einem Herrn gram wurden, fingen sie
ihm etwa seinen Sohn und Erben weg, hielten bei sich und gaben ihn nur auf
die besten Bedingungen heraus" (A3). Bold civic initiatives of this type are now
clearly a thing of the past.6
Brackenburg's condescending "Liebes Klarchen! Wir wollen gehen! Was wird
die Mutter sagen?" is no longer met with Schiller's enraged reaction and call to
arms: "Meinst du, ich sei ein Kind? ... Ihr sollt mich horen, und ihr werdet"
(AI/); and while Klarchen still attempts to rally her fellow citizens, it is no
longer for Egmont's "Freiheit," but rather for his "Befreyung oder den Tod"
(Ai6). Schiller's Klarchen challenges the fundamental social order, "Welch Ge-
richt darf ihn fordern? ... 1st dies die Welt, von deren Wankelmut ich viel gehort
und nichts empfunden?" (Ai8), a challenge removed from her lips by the scribe.
Instead, the scribe returns Klarchen's lyrical sensitivity through Goethe's song
(A9, AID). Schiller's deletion of such a theatrical winner showed just how much
he wanted to change Goethe's Klarchen into an active heroine.
Egmont, too, loses much of his political forcefulness at the scribe's hand. As
with Klarchen and the citizens, his vocabulary is purged of libertarian extremes.
In his vision of her, Klarchen champions a "Siegespalme" instead of a "Hut der
Freiheit" (A26). From the beginning of the play he is redefined by the scribe to
become less heroic than Schiller had fashioned him. The often discussed, "ich
soil leben, wie ich nicht mag," from both Schiller and Goethe, is now "ich soil
leben, wie ich nicht leben kann, wie ich nicht leben mag" (A6), a key reformula-
tion which injects a fatality, an impossibility of change not present before. In
Egmont's definitive conversation with Richard (Act n), his spirited embrace of a
confrontation with Alba has also been excised (AII). The sense of Egmont's
martyrdom for his fellow citizens is lessened, as statements, such as "Kann mein
Blut far viele fliefien, meinem Volk Friede bringen, so fliefit es willig," and his
bold seizure of any chance of reversal through Ferdinand, "Kannst du die ver-
derbende Gewalt deines Vaters aufhalten, lenken, so tus!" (A25), are removed. In
fact, the entire subplot of Egmont's relationship with Ferdinand is drastically
pared (A24, 25). The scribe's redefinition of Egmont is most striking in the sem-
inal scene with Alba in Act n, in which significant alterations and lengthy exci-
sions have been made. Political pressure is relieved, as "des Konigs Abstcht... zu
unterjochen, ... Rechte zu berauben" becomes the general and rather bland
"spanische Absichf (Ai3). Deleted is Egmont's treasonous questioning, "Wie
selten kommt ein Konig zu Verstand! Und sollen sich viele nicht lieber vielen
vertrauen als einem? Und nicht einmal dem einen, sondern den wenigen des
einen, dem Volke, das an den Blicken seines Herrn altert. Das hat wohl allein
das Recht, klug zu werden" (Ai4), and so is the outrageous tirade against the
king in Ai5. Egmont's inflammatory outburst even shocks the steely Alba, who
looks around repeatedly in case it reaches other ears, let alone those of a con-
temporary audience surrounding their monarch in the theatre. No such danger
remained after the scribe's excisions.7
Because the revolutionary explosiveness of Egmont is defused, the intensity
of the contrast with Alba is lessened. His tyranny and responsibility lose focus
io6 Images of Goethe through Schiller's Egmont
and he becomes a much more acceptable representative of the crown. As was

the case with Egmont, the secondary plot between Alba and Ferdinand is de-
emphasized, as seen in the omission of Alba's essential analysis of their bond
(AIZ). Most interesting, however, is the scribe's reworking of the "Vermumm-
ter" scenes (A2O-23). Schiller's single hooded figure in the background while
the judgement is spoken, a figure whom Egmont then approaches, unmasks,
and accuses, was a spectacular theatrical display.8 It remains so today, as we
shall see in our consideration of modern productions and films of Egmont.
Schiller seems to have anticipated the potential to which Lotte Eisner points in
her classic Haunted Screen with reference to Alba's presence in this scene:
"Schiller had wanted to have the Duke of Alba appear at the back of the
prison, a dark figure masked and draped in a cloak, gloating upon Egmont's re-
actions to the death sentence. What a scene for a film" (97)!9 In terms of the
themes, the scene was a clear, direct, and powerful indictment of the surrogate
monarch, and by changing the single hooded figure to two and excluding the
moment of exposure, the copyist reduced its inflammatory quality, but still in-
cluded is Egmont's "Geh! Sag ihm, dafi er weder mich noch die Welt beliigt.
Ihm, dem Riihmsichtigen" (AIZ). It is difficult to argue that the change from
one masked figure to two was accidental on the scribe's part. If it were, then
why are there three references to the figures, the last to one specifical figure,
and whom were audiences to have in mind when Egmont gives his message to
the "Ruhmsiichtigen"? Had they heard of the 1796 premiere of Schiller's ver-
sion in Weimar? Where was Egmont to look when he delivered this line? With
his two hooded figures, the scribe weakened Schiller's direct attack, but re-
tained exciting theatrical potential.
Schiller's addition of these masked figures was one of the two main objections
Goethe had to the adaptation, and one which he supposedly did not allow in
performance after Schiller's death. His other major objection was to Schiller's
exclusion of the final vision of Klarchen. There has been some debate about
whether or not the hooded and subsequently exposed figure of Alba in the
prison scene ever in fact darkened the Weimar stage after 1796 (the unmasking
occurred precisely at the words "und ich darf es fragen, der Sterbende, der
todlich Verwundete kann es fragen" [272]), but in fact there is little doubt that
he did appear. Hans Gerhard Graf (n, i, 236-39) summarizes the primary evi-
dence, consisting of four eyewitnesses, first one of Goethe's actors, Heinrich
Schmidt (1779-1857), who recalled in his memoirs details of the scene while
conversing with Goethe about it (Erinnerungen 160-1). Secondly, journalist and
editor Karl August Bottiger (1760-1835) reported on the scene in some detail:
"Viele fanden ihn [den Theaterstreich] unwahrscheinlich. Doch dem sei, wie
ihm wolle. Der Schauspieler hatte nur die ihm gegebene Vorschrift zu befolgen,
und sogar die Art, wie Iffland den schwarz verkappten Alba mit verwundender
Rede angriff und mit jedem Worte einen Dolch in die Brust stiefi, voll
malerischer Wirkung" (Entwickelung^6^\—^). Bottiger also published an exten-
sive critique of Iffland's performance, which will be central to the dicussion in

chapter 6. Another witness, Anton Genast (1765—1831), an actor at the Hofthe-
ater since 1791, reported: "Dal? Alba im 'Egmont' im funften Act als Henker
mit grofiem rothen Mantel und tief ins Gesicht gedriicktem Hut erscheinen
muKte, geschah auf seine [Schillers] Anordnung" (Eduard Genast, i, 113). The
actor Johann Jakob Graff (1768-1848), who himself performed the role, appar-
ently insisted that the scene be so played - "Schiller hat es so gewollt!" - to
which Genast adds knowingly: "Goethe war damit einverstanden und beide
wufiten recht gut, was sie thaten" (i, 113). The recorder of these comments, Ed-
uard Genast (1797—1866), followed in his father Anton's footsteps, beginning as
a boy actor under Goethe in 1814. A final witness, Friedrich Heinrich Carl
Baron de La Motte-Fouque (1777-1843), reported a conversation with Goethe
which also indicated that the Alba scene occurred much as above, except that
Goethe claimed to have been in Ilmenau at the time and thus did not see it
(28).I0 While there are contradictions in some of the details of these accounts,
they leave litde doubt that the scene was played, probably more than once and
with variations. It may have been even more exciting than we think, if Anton
Genast's memory of the red cape is accurate; and the accounts consistently refer
to Alba as an executioner, so I also assume a menacing sword or axe at his side.
The scene may also have been included in five-act versions, not just Schiller's
three-act adaptation, if we are to believe the actor GrafFs memory. Genast sug-
gests that Goethe was in full agreement with these theatrical fireworks, but his is
the only word to that effect. Finally, beyond Graf, the MA cites Christian The-
odor Musculus's letter of 3 July 1838 to Eckermann in which he describes a per-
formance he had just seen: "Sodann war auch Alba in den Mantel gehiillt
wieder in der Kerkerszene gegenwartig, wie Egmonten das Todesurteil verlesen
wird. Egmont rifi ihm den Mantel auseinander und warf ihm dabei den Hut
vom Kopfe, worauf sich Alba schnell in die Coulissen zuruckzog, und den Hut
auf dem Theater liegen liefi" (in, i, 862). Inventive variants were obviously the
order of the day for directors long after Goethe's death.
Taken as a whole, the scribe's textual emendations to his model result in an
adaptation that mutes the revolutionary tone of Schillers version, especially in
the characters of Klarchen and Egmont. They go far to remove direct criticism
of the monarch and the concept of absolute monarchy. They return Klarchen to
her former role as largely passive partner, at the same time restoring her gentle
lyricism. They mute Egmont s inclination to lead a revolt of the people and to
question the motives of the king, and reduce Schiller's emphasis on the ruthless
villainy of Alba, most noticeably by removing the climactic scene of his disguise,
recognition, accusation, and judgement. Also decreased is our interest in Ferdi-
nand and his relationship to both his father and Egmont. In short, the scribe's
product is a text that makes Schiller's adaptation more conservative, more polit-
ically correct, and as the unmasking scene clearly demonstrates, the changes
lead us well beyond the mere text to broad questions of performance.
io8 Images of Goethe through Schiller's Egmont
B Emendations to the manuscript text by later hands
Later emendations to the scribe's original reveal patterns of usage which changed
the content of the text over time. This first group shows how the scribe's textual
- as opposed to extratextual - material was received and treated by later users.
Adjustments to the original version are shown below in italics, and the source of
the change is included as <G=Goethe, S=Schiller, or unknown>.
Act i
BI 15 SOEST. ... <Der K6nig> hat kein Gemiith gegen uns Niederlander, er
liebt uns nicht; ... Warum triigen wir ihn alle auf den Handen? Weil man ihm
ansieht, dal? er uns wohl will; weil ihm die Frohlichkeit, das freie Leben <from
G, not in S>, die gute Meynung aus den Augen sieht.
BI 31 ALLE. Sicherheit und Ruhe! Ordnung undfrei Gewissen!<From "Gewis-
sens-Freyheit" by scribe and "Freiheit" in G and S>
63 53 EGMONT <to Burger> Geht an Euer Gewerbe. Es ist ein iibles Zeichen,
wenn ihr an Werktagen feiert. <from G, not in S>
34 71 EGMONT <to Richard>. Ich komme nicht dazu. Und unter viel Verhafi-
tem ist mir das Schreiben das Verhafiteste. Du machst meine Hand ja so gut
nach; schreib' in meinem Namen - Beruhige Ihn - Ich erwarte Oranien. Ich
komme nicht dazu und wunschte doch selbst, dafi ihm auf seine Bedenklichkeiten
was recht Beruhigendesgeschrieben wiirde. <from G, not in S>
85 76 EGMONT <to Richard>. Und doch beriihrt er <Graf Oliva> immer diese
Sake. Er weifi von Alters her* wie verhafit mir diese Ermahnungen sind, sie ma-
chen nur irre, sie helfen nichts. Und wenn ich ein Nachtwandler ware und auf
dem Gipfel eines Hauses spazierte: ist es freundschaftlich, mich beim Namen zu ru-
fen und mich zu warnen, zu wecken und zu toten?<fiom G, not in S> Lafit jeden
Seines Pfades gehen, er mag sich wahren.
s6 79 EGMONT <to Richard>. Schenke mir diese Betrachtungen; wir wollen
sie Schulern und Hoflingen iiberlassen. Kannst Du von allem diesen etwas brau-
chen? <from G and S> Die mogen sinnen und aus sinnen, wandeln und schlei-
chen, gelangen wohin sie konnen, erschleichen, was sie konnen. Dem guten
Alten scheint alles viel zu wichtig. So druckt ein Freund, der lang unsere Handge-
halten, sie starker nock einmal wenn er sie lassen will. <from G and S>
87 105 EGMONT. Bei so grofier Gefahr, kommt auch die leichteste Hof/hung in
Anschlag. <from G, not in S>
Act ii
s8 209 EGMONT <to Alba>. ... Bey Gott! Wann darf sich ein Konig sicherer
halten, als wenn sie alle fur Einen, Einer fur alle stehn? Sicherer gegen innere und
auftere Feinde? <from G, not in S>
39 213 EGMONT <to Alba>. Nicht jede Absicht ist offenbar, und manches
Mannes Absicht ist zu mifideuten. MuK man doch auch von alien Seiten horen;
es sey die spanische Absicht weniger, die Provinzen nach einformigen und kla-
ren Gesetzen zu regieren, die Majestat der Religion zu sichern und einen allgemei-
nen Frieden seinem Volcke zu geben, <from G, not in S> als vielmehr, sie
unbedingt zu unterjochen ...
BIO 216 EGMONT <to Alba>. Wie selten kommt ein Konigzu Verstand. <from G
and S>
BII 217 EGMONT <to Alba>. Desto schlimmer, wenn mich seine <des Kiinigs>
Gegenwart abschreckte, desto besser<fmm G and S>
BIZ 226 KLARCHEN. Komm mit, Brackenburg! ivir miissen ihn befreyen! <from
unknown source>
Bi3 232 JETTER. Gott bewahr' uns, da giebt es ein Ungliick! <changed to>
Gottlwelche Spracke! <a.nd> Urn Gotteswillen, schweige!'<from unknown sourco
814 233 KLARCHEN <to Btirger>. ... "Wo ist er hin? Wo sind die Zeiten hin,
die ihr verspracht?" — Und so wechseln wir Worte! sind mufiig und verrtttben ihn.
<from G and S>
Act in
BI5 241 KLARCHEN. allein ... Du hiilflos, und - ich frey! - und kann dich
nicbt erretten!! <fiom unknown sourco Hier ist der Schliissel zu meiner Thiire.
242 KLARCHEN. allein ... Brackenburg - er ist's! Unglucklicher Edler <to
replaco Elender guter Mann. <from unknown sourco
Bi6 259 EGMONT. <allein im Gefdngnis> Alter Freund! Immer getreuer Schlafi
Fliehst du mich auch, wie die iibrigen Freunde? Wie willig senktest du dich auf
mein freies Haupt herunter und kiihltest wie ein schoner Myrtenkranz der Liebe
meine Schlafe. <from G, not in S>
BI/ 259 EGMONT. <allein im Gefdngnis> ... Was schiittelt mich nun? Was er-
schiittert den treuen Sinn! <from G, replacing Schiller's "festen Muth meines
Herzens">
Bi8 260 EGMONT. <allein im Gefdngnis> ... die verratherische Gewalt. Sie un-
tergrabt den festen hohen Stamm, und eh' die Rinde dorrt, stiirtzt krachend
und zerschmettert deine Krone — Warum dennjetzt... ? <from G and S>
819 264 EGMONT. <allein im Gefdngnis> ... Ach! Klarchen! Worst du Mann
ich sahe dich gewifi auch hier zuerst und dankte dir, was einem Konige zu dan-
ken hart ist, Freyheit. <from G and S>
B2O 266 EGMONT <to Silva, Ferdinand, Vermummten, Gewaffneten>. So ziemt
es Euch und eurem schandlichen Beginnen! In Nacht gebriitet und in Nacht
vollfiihrt. So magdiese freche Tat der Ungerechtigkeit sich verbergen!<from G, not
in S>
B2i 271 EGMONT <to Ferdinand>. ... und wenn er <Alba> einst von diesem
Gipfel herabsteigt, werden tausend Stimmen es ihm entgegen rufen: Nicht das
no Images of Goethe through Schiller's Egmont
Wohl des Staats, nicht die Wurde des Konigs <from G, not in S>, nicht die Ruhe
der Provinzen haben ihn hieher gebracht. Um sein selbst willen hat er Krieg
gerathen. Daft der Krieger im Kriege gelte. <from G and S> Er hat diese unge-
heure Verwirrung erregt, damit man seiner bediirfe. Und ich falle, ein Opfer
seines niedrigen Hasses, seines kleinlichen Neides. Ja, ich weifi es und ich darfes
fragen, der Sterbende, der todlich Verwundete kann es fragen <from G and S>:
mich hat der Eingebildete beneidet, mich weg zu tilgen, hat er lange gesonnen
und gedacht. - Schon damals als wir, noch jiinger, mil Wiirfeln spielten, und
die Haufen Goldes, einen nach dem andern, von seiner Seite zu mir heriiber
eilten; da stand er grimmig, log Gelassenheit, und innerlich verzehrt' ihn die
Argernifi, mehr iiber mein Gliick, als iiber seinen Verlust. Noch seh erinnere ich
mich seinen funckelnden Blick seines funckelnden Slicks, die verrdtherische Blasse,
<from G and S> als wir an einem offentlichen Feste vor vielen tausend Men-
schen um die Wette schossen.
B22 285 EGMONT <to Ferdinand>. ... Nicht im Tumulte der Schlacht, unter
dem Gerausch der Waffen in der Zerstreuung des Getummels <from G, not in S>,
giebst du mir ein fliichtiges Lebewohl.
823 288 FERDINAND. ... "ja er wandelt einen gefahrlichen Weg." Hattest du
denn keine Freunde?
EGMONT. Es glaubt der Mensch, sein Leben zu leiten, sich selbst zu ftihren, und
sein Innerstes wird unwiderstehlich nach seinem Schicksale gezogen. Lafi uns dar-
tiber nicht sinnen! Leb wohl. <from G and S> Lafi meine Leute dir aufs beste
empfohlen seyn!
824 298 EGMONT. Freunde, hohern Muth! Im Riicken habt ihr Eltern, Weiber,
Kinder! <from G and S>
Commentary
With just three exceptions, the source of these emendations is Goethe's original;
almost half of them had been kept by Schiller as well, but omitted by the writer
of the manuscript. This alone tells us that later users of the manuscript
amended the text in one distinct direction, i.e., closer to Goethe's original. They
were cognizant of the history and origins of the text, and took them into ac-
count in their editing. Just as clearly, it emerges that the figures of the Burger,
Klarchen, and Alba are left almost entirely as they were in the original manu-
script. In Egmont's text, on the other hand, is found almost all of the meaning-
ful change; it is his character that aroused most interest and posed problems for
future producers, but even here it can hardly be claimed that the changes to the
text by later hands were far-reaching.
Just three of the emendations involve the citizens directly. Their enthusiasm
for freedom is slightly raised by reintroducing Goethe's "das freie Leben" at one
point (BI), but the more conservative "frei Gewissen" instead of the scribe's
in From Text to Performance
"Gewissens-Freiheit" (BI) seems merely a stylistic change. One emendation sug-

gests producers' continued care with these concepts, namely the uncertainty sur-
rounding Jetters final words in Act n - "Gott bewahr' uns, da giebt es ein
Ungliick! / Gott! welche Sprache! / Um Gotteswillen, schweige!" (513) Klarchen's
character is strengthened only slightly by two emendations referring to her con-
cept of freedom ("wir mussen ihn befreyen!" BII) and Egmont's liberation ("so
wechseln wir Worte! sind miifiig und verrathen ihn" (314); and her surprisingly
generous reference to Brackenburg as "Ungliicklicher Edler" (815), which finds
no resonance later on. There are no significant textual changes at all for Ferdi-
nand or Alba.
While the textual emendations affecting our image of Egmont are relatively
minor, they do show some recasting closer to Goethe's mould. His peacemaking
role is strengthened at the start by the insertion of his reprimand to the citizens,
"Geht an Euer Gewerbe. Es ist ein iibles Zeichen, wenn ihr an Werktagen
feiert" (83), and in the early, revealing scene with Richard, the reinsertion of
Goethe's "Ich komme nicht dazu und wiinschte doch selbst, daS ihm auf seine
Bedenldichkeiten was recht Beruhigendes geschrieben wiirde" (84) underscores
his passive disposition. The reintroduction of Goethe's "Und wenn ich ein
Nachtwandler ware" (85), "So driickt ein Freund" (s6), "Bei so grofier Gefahr"
(B/), "Dafi der Krieger im Kriege gelte," and "und ich darf es fragen, der Ster-
bende, der todlich Verwundete kann es fragen" (BZI) rekindle Egmont's pen-
sive, philosophical nature, so prominent in Goethe's image of him. In the
pivotal scene with Alba, Egmont becomes less rebellious, more statesmanlike
and politically analytical through the reintroduction of such utterances from
Goethe's text as, "Sicherer gegen innere und aufiere Feinde? ... die Majestat der
Religion zu sichern und einen allgemeinen Frieden seinem Volcke zu geben,"
and "Wie selten kommt ein Konig zu Verstand" (sS-io), the only hint of in-
creased rebelliousness being the addition of "Desto schlimmer, wenn mich seine
<des Konigs> Gegenwart abschreckte, desto besser" (BII). In his cell at the end,
Egmont draws still closer to Goethe's characterization through the replacement
of Schiller's "festen Muth meines Herzens" with "treuen Sinn" (817), his expres-
sion of uncertainty through "Warum denn jetzt ...?" (eiS), and even the rein-
troduction of some of his indirect ctiticism of absolute monarchs - "was einem
Konige zu danken hart ist, Freyheit" (819) and "So mag diese freche Tat der
Ungerechtigkeit sich verbergen!" (BZO). But his final words of advice to Ferdi-
nand, also taken from Goethe, are touched with helpless resignation: "Es glaubt
der Mensch, sein Leben zu leiten, sich selbst zu fiihren, und sein Innerstes wird
unwiderstehlich nach seinem Schicksale gezogen. Lafi uns dariiber nicht sin-
nen!" (B23).
How much weight should we place on these emendations? They -were made
by a number of hands at different times, in some cases contradicting each
other, and should not be misunderstood as an adaptation in their own right,
H2 Images of Goethe through Schiller's Egmont
but rather as a trend in the use of the manuscript and Schiller's adaptation.
As we move to the next group, we should remember as well that a number of
the handwritten additions in this section were also themselves at later points
deleted, their order and implementation even more uncertain. Still, the
trend they show is clearly away from Schiller's adaptation and back to Goethe's
original.
C Extra-textual markings by later hands indicating

substantial deletions of the scribe's text
The following table summarizes substantial deletions from the manuscript by

later hands." Because of the large number, only those amounting to at least a
half page are included here (the footnotes in the previous chapter give a com-
plete picture). As outlined in the editorial principles (Chapter i), some deletions
are accompanied by the marginal note "bleibt" which presumably indicates that
they were retained for some performances, excluded from others. "All" indicates
the deletion of an entire scene.
Ms. pp. Total pp. deleted Act, Scene Characters involved

47-52 2.5 i 4 Burger, Vansen
59 i 5 Egmont, Buyk
61-63 2 5 Egmont, Burger
64 •5 6 Richard allein
68-83 6 7 Egmont, Richard
87-95 3 8 Egmont, Oranien
95-98 3-5 9 (All) Eg., Oran, Richard
98-99 i 10 Egmont, Oranien
146-49 ii 6 Brackenburg allein
3
154 7 Klarchen, Mutter
174-81 10, ii (All) Eg., KL, Rich., Mutter
182-86 12 Silva, Gomez
190-94 2.5 15 Alba, Silva
202-03 i-5 17 Alba, Ferd, Silva
212-14 i 18 Alba, Egmont
223-25 2 21 (All) Brackenburg allein
228-30 3 23 Klarchen, Burger
236-38 i M Klarchen, Brackenb.
240-43 2 in i Klarchen allein

244-53 4 2 Klarchen, Brackenb.
260-62 I 4 Egmont allein
270-92 6 6 Egmont, Ferdinand
H3 From Text to Performance
Commentary
Extratextual deletions amount in total to some fifty-seven pages of the manu-

script original, or about one fifth of the entire text. Keeping in mind that
Schiller's adaptation itself reduced the length of Goethe's Egmont substantially,
the Mannheim manuscript, including deletions, should be seen as even more
radical. The importance of the deletions can be judged by their length with re-
spect to the scenes in which they occur as well as by their import. Most striking
from the above is that four scenes are deleted entirely (i, 9; n, 10-11, 21), and
that all four were scenes added by Schiller to Goethe's original in the course of
his adaptation, in fact, four of the only five completely new scenes he contrib-
uted. The fifth, n, 5, involves Klarchen and Brackenburg.
The chart shows further only a slight tightening of the lengthy citizen scenes
in i, 4-5 and n, 23, and no deletions to them at all during the major sections of
i, 1-3 and n, 1-3. There are large reductions in scenes involving Richard (i, 6-7
and 9), Brackenburg (n, 6, 21), and the threesomes of Klarchen, her mother,
and Brackenburg (n, 6-7, in, 1-2), and Alba, Silva, and Gomez (n, 12, 15,17).
Emphasis is also removed from the subplot between Klarchen and Brackenburg
through the deletions in in, 1-2. By contrast, the scenes in which Alba and
Egmont appear together, or separately with Ferdinand, especially their lengthy
definitive meeting in 11, 19-20, remain largely undisturbed. The last covers
some thirty-five pages of the manuscript [187-222], of which just five are de-
leted, and Egmont's long philosophical discussion with Ferdinand in in, 6 re-
tains almost all of the meat in its twenty-two pages, as do the final scenes of the
play in which Egmont remains on stage alone.
The twenty-percent reduction in the length of Egmont through these deletions
had several effects. It obviously decreased substantially the amount of text deliv-
ered by the actors and shortened the length of the play, resulting in a greater em-
phasis on the remaining text and characters involved. Obviously, later producers
working from the manuscript were conscious of the duration of performance -
the title page of the manuscript bears the notation "3 St. I5M." [5], or "3 hours
15 minutes." This distillation renders the secondary characters (Richard, Mutter,
Brackenburg, Gomez, and Silva) less distinct, while the main ones, especially
Alba and Egmont, gain in intensity. There is a tightening to the essentials of dia-
logue and a concentration on the characters who deliver it, a sharper focussing of
the play. However, the reduction of the part played by minor characters does not
include the citizens. On the contrary, their scenes, which constitute a large part of
the entire text, were obviously immune from major tampering. In relative terms,
they become even more important in the production of this version than they
were in Schiller's or Goethe's. With regard to the manuscripts sources, the elimi-
nation of most of Schiller's new scenes shows a pattern similar to that observed
in the emendations of B, namely, that future users wanted to come closer to
Goethe's text. What they did in performance, however, is quite a different matter.
ii4 Images of Goethe through Schiller's Egmont
D Extra-textual markings pertaining to aspects of performance.
If I wished to restrict this investigation of Egmont to literary aspects alone, I

would be tempted to stop at this point. In the original manuscript, the scribe in-
cluded a number of elements from Schiller, elements pertaining primarily to as-
pects of performance rather than text and these, as was the case with the textual
alterations, show Schiller's strong interest in recasting Goethe's work to be theat-
rically more effective. They are, however, only a fraction of the overall number of
emendations Schiller made to Goethe's original, so that a reader of his adapta-
tion - as opposed to a witness of its performance - could almost overlook their
full significance. The changes made by Schiller and included by the copyist, as
well as those made by later hands, together represent a dimension of Egmont that
is at least as important as those changes that affect the dialogue alone.
Beyond the unmasking scene already discussed, further Schiller stage direc-
tions exemplify his attempt to invoke an exciting theatrical atmosphere. The ris-
ing tension through the citizens' meetings reaches this carefully orchestrated
visual climax:
Am dem Hintergrunde tritt die spanische Patrouille, undzieht sich vor bis iiber die Mitte des
Theaters. Hier halt sie, schlieftt einen weiten Halbkreis um den Anfuhrer, der jedem durch
Zeichen mit der Hand seinen Fasten anweift. Aufseinen Commandowinck treten sie wieder
aus einander, und ziehen in vier Haufen auf eben so viel venchiedenen Wegen ab. Alles
geschieht in der grofiten Stitte und Ordnung und mit abgemessenem langsamem Schritt [134].
Borcherdt cites this contemporary account of audience reaction to the scene

in the Leipzig production of 1807: "Diese Einschaltung ist hochst zweckmafiig
und tut bei der trefflichen Ausfuhrung eine grofie Wtirkung. Ich kann Ihnen
versichern, dafi alles im Haus so still ward, als ob wirklich feindliche Truppen
den Saal umringten" (xm, i, 351). The silent drama had a splendid impact on
audiences. Even the reader naturally conjures up a mental vision of the sombre,
menacing ritual, for stage directions like this arouse the imagination more than
the intellect, and then comes a realization of what made the scene: costumes,
movement, gestures, lighting - everything but the dialogue.
An entirely different form of extratextual stimulus comes from Schiller's in-
clusion of music, as Man hb'rt im Nebenzimmer ein Instrument spielen [135] and
die Musik vom Orchester begleitet [Egmonts] Schlummer und wird zuletzt vom
kriegerischen Spiel hinter der Szene unterbrochen ... die Musik schweigt [294]. As
was customary for many works in the eighteenth century, Egmont was per-
formed with music, not just at this point, but throughout. To provide a musical
score to accompany the play in its original form and at its premiere in Mainz
and Frankfurt, Goethe engaged Philipp Christoph Kayser (1755-1823) who was
to compose "die Symphonic, die Zwischenakte, die Lieder und einige Stellen
des funften Akts, die Musik verlangen" (letter from Rome to Kayser, 14.8.1787,
WA iv, 8, 243-6). This score is now lost. For the first performance of Schiller's
H5 From Text to Performance
adaptation in Berlin (25.2.1801) a different musical score by Johann Friedrich

Reichardt (1752-1814) was used, for which there is still some documentation
(Holtbernd, 254). Beethoven's famous score was written for use first in the Vi-
ennese production of 1810 and scholars have given much attention to its im-
pact.12 Benedikt Holtbernd has explored the dramatic function of music in
Goethe's dramas generally and includes valuable insights into Egmont (145—53).
He notes the repeated integration of music into the action - a "Mannerchor"
when the stage direction calls for "eine Art Kanon" [31]; Klarchen and Bracken-
burg's "Soldatenliedchen 'Die Trommel geriihrt'" (Goethe's i, 4); Klarchen's
solo "Gliicklich allein" (Goethe's in, 2); and the symphonic accompaniment
twice, upon Klarchen's death and Egmont's vision of her in die final act. Holt-
bernd bases his discussion on Goethe's original version and assumptions about
the lost Kayser score. Suprisingly, he does not consider Egmont in Schiller's ver-
sion, or Beethoven's score in detail, but his intelligent and revealing argument
demonstrates that Goethe integrated music into this drama in an innovative
fashion, rather than as a conventional accompaniment (149). Music represents
several realms and actions, the male world of politics, the sensitive private world
of women, Klarchen's independence from Brackenburg and Egmont's apotheo-
sis (146-8). All of these add a further extratextual dimension to the play, but one
quite easily forgotten by the reader since specific references to it in the text are
few. The orchestral presence accompanies, among others, the most critical scene
of the play, and one that is entirely mimed: Egmont, in his cell, envisioning the
victorious Klarchen. Here music and mime engage the imagination to create the
entire scene, which can only be achieved if the actor is talented enough to make
the connection for the audience between the seen and the unseen. It is a visual
climax, but in actual productions one that is often created in the mind of the
audience alone, as will be seen in chapter 6.
The manuscript scribe also included this stage direction from Schiller: dieser
Auftritt wird leise gesprochen [135]. Such an instruction is irrelevant for readers
but important for actors, directors, and audiences. It is a sign that we should
pay more attention to those who actually transmitted the text — whatever text
to the audience, and how they did it. Schiller's adaptation had many more stage
directions than Goethe's, in order to guide directors and actors, but after 1796
he had no control over how they implemented them. The scribe's inclusion of
most of Schiller's guidelines of this type shows a shared awareness of the impor-
tance of the actor's role beyond the dialogue. Further notations added by the
scribe show something even beyond that, for example, "Das Verwandlungszei-
chen wird mit der Papier Rolle gegeben" [258f.] - what could it mean? "Ver-
wandlung" calls for a scene change, and the entire entry seems to indicate that
the change is to be made by the waving of a rolled up paper, a technical rather
than a dramaturgical cue, to be given by the prompter or director to the stage
crew.13 Such notes are never included in literary texts but his one seems to have
slipped into the manuscript, revealing that the scribe was not just concerned
with Goethe's or Schiller's literary text, but was also thinking about the details
ii6 Images of Goethe through Schiller's Egmont
of how the performance would be managed. It is the same type of self-revelation

shown by his inclusion of the "zwey Vermummten," who after their repeated
mention - one is rivetted by Egmont's stare [267] - seem to disappear.
The scribe's curious inclusion of a signal for the scene change is supple-
mented by many performance notations added to the manuscript by later
hands. Although all glosses of this type are contained in the notes of chapter 2,
it may be helpful to review them together now. The actual glosses appear in ital-
ics below, with my commentary in normal typeface. Glosses from the same
place in the manuscript, but clearly from different hands, are on different lines.
Many of these notations are abbreviations, many unclear or illegible, so that a
completely accurate transcription of them is impossible, as is a complete under-
standing of what they all mean.
<&can mean either the common editorial abbreviation for deleaturor the second
half of "vide" (see "vi=" below).
Verwandm Verwandlung indicates a change in scene, and likely set and/or light-
ing. The word was used bodi by the scribe [e.g., bottom of 258] and by later
hands.
verwend or verw likely means that the speech indicated was to be moved else-
where. Usually a further note accompanies it, indicating the proper location.
vi= is the first half of the word "vide," and is to be linked with the note "=de" at
a later point, the text between being evidently omitted. Variations on these
marks include combinations such as =, =#, and =page #.
Zugl or Zugleich usually appear in pairs, especially at the end of scenes, and
likely mean that two actions should occur concurrently, e.g., one scene runs
into another without pause, or, at the end of an act, the curtain comes down
while the scene concludes (as at the end of the play [299]).
Zusatz or Zstz likely means the optional use of a speech or scene, as indicated in
an additional gloss beside it.
Ms. Page Gloss text14
Act i
[i] Ein Trauerspiel in 4 Aujziigen.

8 From here to the end of the scene [32], numerous changes to speaker
names and order. See footnotes to chapter 2.
19 es wird Wein gebracht.
32 Alle. rezetiren.
= Veru>andlungbeginmng Scene 2.
46 Wurzbach ,.. Renter.
53 Alle nehmen die Mtitzen ab.
59 Zwatz beside deleted exchange between Egmont and Buyk.
60 I Verw. beside speeches of Zirnmermeister and Soest.
61/62 vi=l=de bracketing deleted Soest and Egmont speeches.
63 verivendat end of Scene 5.
abrlllat end of Scene 5.
75 vi=pag:/S at end of Egmont speech, before Richard begins.
76 ... p:8o = before deleted Egmont speech.
78 =de in middle of deleted Egmont speech.
80 =. at end of deleted Egmont and Richard speeches.
83 Zusatz beside one sentence of Egmont speech.
95 Zustz beside bracket including first two pages of scene with Egmont,
Oranien, Richard.
102 deleatur mark below one phrase of Egmont's speech to Oranien.
107 Zuglat end of speech by Oranien.
109 Zuglxi end of Act i.
Act ii
no Verwchs 5f^p=Verwechslung der Szenenfolge.

A.4.A.i.Sc. both at beginning of Act n of original manuscript.
D132 I verw. beside speeches of Zimmermann and Vansen
134 deleatur mark at top of page.
2ste=Zusatz in left margin.
A.A.I, beside start of Scene 4.
Ausdem Hintergrunde trittdiespanischePatrouille, ... <scribe>.
// Verw. beside start of Scene 4.
135 Man hort im Nebenzimmer ein Instrument spielen <scribe>.
dieser Auftritt wird leise gesprochen <scribe>.
bis z. Ende ds. St... ganz anders at start of bracket enclosing long
passage.
142/43 vi=l-de bracketing deleted and bracketed speeches by Brackenburg
and Klarchen.
150 anders in margin.
a.a.IIbesidc start of Scene 7.
Lied i beside start of Scene 7 <scribe>.
deleatur mark beside Liedi.
159 deleatur mads, beside "zweytes Lied," both of which are also struck
out.
171 Einschieb.. Act I at end of Klarchen's speech.
n8 Images of Goethe through Schiller's Egmont
173 Actus //at end of Scene 9.

174 Zstz. bis Verwandlung at beginning of Scene 10.
179 Verwdlg <Verwandlung> near end of long Klarchen/Egmont Scene
10.
181 abzlll&i end of Scene n. See similar note on [223].
Actus ///at end of Scene n.
183/84 vide Scijl=Scena i) bracketing a long deleted Gomez speech.
186 =de at start of Scene 13, previous vi= not apparent.
207/09 + ... to connect with +.
220 deleatur mark beside stage direction to Alba.
221 / Verw between speeches of Alba and Egmont.
223 a brill before Scene 21.
Zstz in same place.
Verwen in same place.
223/25 vi=22^l=de bracketing Scene 21, which is entirely deleted.
225 =Actus j= beside start of Scene 22.
233 Weim<er> ... Alex beside speaker Soest's name.
237 Act: /beside speeches of Brackenburg, Klarchen.
Zuglin same place, but also deleted.
Verw I'm same place, but also deleted.
Pause beside speech of Klarchen.
228 From here to the end of the scene, numerous changes to speaker
names and order
239 Actus III zi end of Act n.
Zugl in same place, also deleted.
Verw. //in same place, also deleted.
Act in
240 Egm. i. Gefinst.. s..te.. at start of Act in.

243 vi= before deletion of Klarchen and Brackenburg speeches, no con-
necting =de apparent later.
249 vi= before deletion of Klarchen speech, no connecting =de apparent
later.
256 Zuglax. start of Scene 3.
/ Verw in same place.
258 Das Verwandlungszeichen wird mit der Papier Rolle gegeben <scribe>.
Musik Nro: / at stage direction to end Scene 3.
Zu Ende der Musik beim VerlSschen in same place.
Actus in same place, also deleted.
Verwandin same place.
Zugl below stage direction.
hierauf Entreact Nro: 6 below stage direction.
iig From Text to Performance
259 Actus IV. Scene i, also deleted with "Verwandlung" beside .

263 Verw /beside Egmont's monologue.
264 Verw //below Egmont's monologue.
265 Von zwey Vermummten <scribe>.
mit schwarzen Mdnteln.
266 Er sieht den Vermummten an, der naher vorkommt, und ihm gerad
gegeniiber tritt <scribe>.
267 immer aufden Vermummten die Augen heftend <scrk>e>.
270 Sc. j, changed from Scene 6.
272/73 vi=l=de bracketing a portion of Egmont's speech.
274/76 #pag2j6=l= bracketing Egmont and Ferdinand speeches.
292 Scene 4 to replace Scene 7.
293 Musik Melodrama.
294 Er entschlaft: die Musik vom Orchester begleitet seinen Schlummer
<scribe>.
siehe letzte Seite along margin before long stage direction.
Erschgsr...
295 Andersat the beginning of a bracket beside complete text on p. 295-6.
297 Z#g/at end of Scene 7.
Scenesto replace Scene 8.
298 Musik. replacing Trommeln.
Anders, beside Egmont's last speech.
Musik. at end of Egmont's last speech.
299 Zugl at end of play.
Commentary
It is obvious from these entries that later hands made extensive changes to alter
the sequence and structure of the play. The wealth of mutually contradictory
notes also reveals a wide variety of readings and performances, an extratextual
tangle that attests to the impossibility of a fixed understanding of this play in
any version. While the glosses themselves prevent a systematic reconstruction of
performance, they do provide insights. In most cases, they are linked to others
nearby and can be understood as pairs or groups, for example, vi= and in most
cases de, together the Latin "vide," simply link text together around larger dele-
tions, parallelling the pattern outlined in C above. The greatest number of
linked glosses refers to the numbering of acts, with i, n, in, iv and even v rep-
resented. These reinforce the emendations to the original Trauerspiel in drey
Aufaigen on the title page and show that the work was performed in three, four,
or five acts at various times. Three seems to have been the norm, for most
glosses of this type are restricted to the numerals i, II or HI, but the play was
performed at least once from this manuscript in five acts, with Act v commenc-
ing with the Klarchen scenes at the end of the current Act 11 (see gloss on [225]).
izo Images of Goethe through Schiller's Egmont
There was also in all likelihood at least one performance in four acts, as sug-
gested by the gloss "Actus IV, Scene i" at the beginning of the prison scenes,
now at the end of Act in. These references to Act v and Act iv do not suggest,
however, a reversal of the two in position, since the entries on the manuscript
are clearly in different hands. The numerous reference to Acts i, n, or in are
closely accompanied in most cases by the notations verwenlden or Zugleich, in-
dicating either that speeches or entire scenes so designated were used in a differ-
ent order than they appear in the manuscript (sometimes the page or new act
reference is present), or that, while speeches or scenes to which they are attached
had been deleted for a previous performance, they were to be used for the cur-
rent one. Added to this is the frequent gloss Zusatz (Zstz) and the glosses anders
or ganz anders, which appear on the list four times (135,150, 295, 298). Both of
these underscore the textual uncertainty. The dialogue portions marked Zusatz
opened many avenues for flexibility from night to night, at the wish of the actor
and director, and the very liberal anders and ganz anders give ample scope for
variation in performance.
The recurring gloss Verwand/lung indicates a scene, and probably also a set
and lighting change. This reminds us that beyond the text there lay the techni-
cal necessities of production. The scribe himself added the cue Verwandlungta
Schiller's text [258] and later glosses heightened attention to this aspect (see Ver-
wandlung glosses on 32, 174, 179, 221, 237, 239, 256, 258 (twice), 259, 263, and
264). As readers, we simply jump from scene to scene and act to act, and it is
easy to forget the technical requirements in between — the visual transforma-
tions brought about by changes of sets, props, costumes, and lighting. For read-
ers, the visual dimension of drama is weak; for those in the theatre it can be
even stronger than the dialogue itself. When we look at the staging of Egmont
over a longer period, it will be important to unearth as much as possible about
the technical aspects of performance, especially those with visual import. An
outstanding example of this runs parallel to our previous observations on the
lack of textual deletions affecting the citizens. In the extratextual glosses on the
other hand, the citizens receive particular attention from both Schiller and later
producers. He arranged through his stage directions a masterful visual climax to
the citizen scenes in Act i — when the citizens draw around Egmont — using
both symmetrical and contrasting movements to emphasize the significance of
the events: "Der Tumult stillt sich nach und nach: Das Volk weicht ehrerbietig
nach dem Hintergrunde zuriick, da.fi ein freyer Raum um Egmont wird. Vorn
bleiben Soest, Jetter, Zimmermeister und Seifensiedtr, zwey aufjeder Seite des Thea-
ters" [53-4]. This sense of staging was very much in the minds of later directors
who used the manuscript as a performance text. The footnotes in chapter 2
show frequent manipulation of the order of speakers and the interchange be-
tween individual citizens and groups of them [8-32], and diagrams at several
points also indicate blocking and positioning [8, 22, 27], Schiller provided stage
directions to emphasize the citizens' initial solidarity, having them repeat their
izi From Text to Performance
call for freedom in eine Art Kanon [31], which is enhanced by a later gloss to the
manuscript to close the scene: "frei Gewissen! Alle. rezitiren" [32]. One cannot
help but be reminded of the oath sworn in Wilhelm Tell. The theatrical poten-
tial here was not lost on later directors.
Schiller suggested orchestration to accompany the later scenes, e.g., "Das
Theater bleibt einige Zeit unvertindert: eine Musik, Klarchens Tod bezeicbnend, be-
ginnt, das Licht, welches Brackenburg auszuloschen vergessen <hat>, flammt noch
einigemal auf, dann erlischt es. Sobald es erloschen ist, verwandelt sich die Szene in
Egmonts Gefangnif [258], a fine example of the blending of lighting and music,
even special effects - how did they achieve the flaring up of the lamp and its ex-
tinction? This is the kind of technical bravado that excited audiences then and
still does today. Immediately hereafter, the scribe inserted that instruction "Das
Verwandlungszeichen wirdmit der Papier Rolle gegeben," a delicate, crucial point
in the production. The play of light provided by the Fackeltrager in the final
scenes with the Vermummten and the incarcerated Egmont also held great theat-
rical potential. In all of this it is useful to keep in mind that the "Zwischen-
vorhang" was unknown at the time, and this made set changes more
cumbersome than later on. The choice was either to end the act by closing the
curtain or to insert a "Verwandlung" and make the necessary physical changes
for the scene as unobtrusively as possible. Schiller's move to three acts meant
that the curtain closed just twice during the play, if at all. According to Holt-
bernd (based in part on the work of Helmut Schanze, as he acknowledges),
Goethe required the music to Egmont to be performed while scene changes were
made with the curtain open, thus integrating it completely into events on stage,
rather than making it a pleasant distraction out of technical necessity (149).
Some modern directors would do well to remember this, as we shall see in chap-
ter 9, when considering die 1982 production in the Schauspielhaus in Frankfurt/
Main, as well as its filming. Later hands added to Schiller's instructions, such as
"Musik Nro: 7" and "Zu Ende der Musik beim Verloschen" [258], apparently with
reference to specific, known orchestral pieces, but do these refer to Reichardt's
work, or to some other, perhaps Beethoven's later score? And just after a later
hand added "' hieraufEntreact Nro: 6" — what was this piece, and does it suggest
a musical interlude? Whatever the precise meaning of these entries, it is clear
from general glosses like "Musik Melodrama" [293] that music contributed
greatly to the emotional charge of the play.
I recall Schiller's direction "dieser Auftritt wird leise gesprocheri' [135], an in-
struction to all actors for the entire scene to follow. The diagrams indicating the
positioning and blocking of the citizens are one sign of the interplay between
director and actor that was added to the manuscript by later hands, and there
are many others. The emendations recorded a serious of curious notations (0)
beginning on [231] and repeating on [234, 236, 244, and 249], appearing only in
speeches by Klarchen. At another point beside her speech is the handwritten
notation "Pause" [237]. These are directors instructions about how the actress
should deliver her lines, and the fact that they relate only to Klarchen suggests
particular difficulty with or emphasis on that role. Other actor-oriented mark-
ings relate to most of the players. The glosses " Wurzbach ... Renter" [46] and
" Weim<er> ... Alex" [233], presumably proper names, suggest directors' con-
cerns about how specific actors might respond at certain points or in specific
roles. The many instances in which the text is underlined by the scribe and by
later hands reflect the common practice for orators, actors, and directors to un-
derline portions requiring particular emphasis in delivery.15 When taken to-
gether, they show considerable attention to the rhetorical dimension and raise
questions not just about the individual speeches at the places marked, but about
rhetorical style and acting in general. The key elements to acting are voice, ges-
ture, mime, and movement. Like Schiller, the manuscript scribe, and later users,
we must give this dimension of performance more attention, something that
holds true not just for this manuscript but for almost any director's or
prompter's book used for performance. The documents underlying many of the
modern productions discussed in chapter 9 contain notations and markings
very similar to those in the Mannheim manuscript, which suggests that some of
the problems of actors and directors have remained constant over the past two
centuries.
In conclusion, the textual manipulations in sections A, B, and C provide
good reason to believe that the users of the manuscript were intent on reclaim-
ing more of Goethe's original text for performance; yet their overall reduction of
the length of the text through extensive deletions, and their attention to staging,
show that like Schiller they were not content to rely on Goethe's text alone
to create effective theatre. The following chapter investigates the relationship
between the text of Egmont and its performance in a variety of theatres during
Goethe's lifetime.
4 Reflections of the Text
in Performance
Images in the text of a play remain trapped in their literary context until per-
formed. From this moment of release they flow unrestrained into that sea of
eyes, minds, and psyches made up by audiences, critics, and reviewers, and even
back to the author himself, a sea ever changing in time, place, and character.
Once a play is performed it can never again be just text, and can never again be
understood only as such. Through performance, its literary isolation and social
separation are overcome, it joins society in a symbiosis of mutual reflection. The
text of Egmont, when communicated through performance, must be under-
stood partly in terms of the society that makes up its audience, and that society,
whichever time or place we may choose, is multifacetted, as is the work itself.
Scholarly studies of Egmont usually refer to four principal sources of extratex-
tual information: the play's historical background, Goethe's comments, Schiller's
review of its first publication, and public reactions to publication and perfor-
mance. I, too, cite Schiller's review and refer to the historical backgound and
Goethe's reactions from time to time. To date, the introduction and analysis of
materials showing public reaction to performances of Egmont leaves much to be
desired. In the Reclam Erlduterungen und Dokumente, a standard resource for
students, teachers, and researchers, Hans Wagener offers in "Dokumente zur
Wirkungsgeschichte" four reviews of the publication of Egmont, including
Schiller's (75-89), six analyses by authors and scholars (92-96), and four reviews
of performances (90-102) in Weimar 1806, Berlin 1870 (review written by
Theodor Fontane), Florence (1967), and Hamburg (1967). These four reviews
are so oddly disparate that they permit no general conclusions about contempo-
rary reception. Wagener was of course constrained by the nature of the Reclam
series, but the weight of evidence in his section on documentation points to a
traditional scholarly bias in favour of literary analysis and the continuing ten-
sion between Germanistik and Theaterwissenschaft. The same can be said of
various important scholarly editions of Goethe's works. None of the Weimar,
Hamburg, Frankfurt, or Munich editions, for example, contains more than one
or two reviews of Egmont performances, despite their extensive presentation of
many other documents surrounding the play. Max von Brack's 1969 edition
contains no account of reviews, and no scholarly study of Goethe's dramas or
Egmont cites more than a scant selection of them, with the exception of Sigrid
Siedhoff (1983), who does refer to a number; however, her focus on Schiller's
contribution makes her treatment substantially different from my own. This
chapter focusses on the public reaction to Egmont during Goethe's lifetime. In
chapter 9 I will be looking closely at modern productions. How the public re-
acted to Egmont while its author was still alive, tells its own story and is the basis
for the later history of its reception. This public reaction is not the same as that
of the Weimar court and its "public," for that was Goethe's realm, and it was so
permeated with his presence and control that it cannot truly be called public at
all. Reactions from other stages, towns, and cities tell us much more about the
play and about its author than anything I can cite from Weimar or Goethe
himself.
The intellectual circles of the age were alive with an energy that found a voice
in the wealth of new literary and theatre journals which proliferated within a
very few years. They contain what Goethe's contemporaries thought about his
books and about his plays and their performance, but the location and collec-
tion of such materials poses problems for modern scholars and often deters
them. So much more welcome is the wonderful collection of dieatre materials
assembled, but never published, by Oscar Fambach and located in the German
Department of the University of Bonn. The materials in this tiny, stuffy, but
wonderful archive serve as die basis for this chapter, and they stand silently
waiting to serve many others as well - it remains a mystery to me why such a
rich resource remains largely unheeded in published scholarship. The archive
contains materials on die repertoires of major stages from 1800, and documents
on the production, performance, and reception of hundreds of plays, stage
personalities, and theatre journals. The materials are eidier photocopies or, to a
great extent, typewritten copies of materials published elsewhere, the meticu-
lous precision of which is reassuring. There are 160 photocopied or typed re-
views and discussions of Egmont performances, some 250 pages of material,
ranging from brief notes to multipaged analyses in minutely printed double
columns, covering the years 1789 to 1832, that is, from Egmont's premiere to
Goethe's last year. Twenty-four towns and cities are represented and audiors of
die reviews include professional critics in established theatre journals, as well as
many amateurish commentators, sometimes even actors diemselves.1
Among the cities included are die major theatrical centres of Goethe's age
(beyond Weimar): Berlin, Frankfurt/Main, Hamburg, Mannheim, Munich,
I2j Reflections of the Text in Performance
and Vienna, each with numerous productions, performances, and reviews. Even
though this play was less popular than some of his others, there was clearly a
host of Egmont productions.2 Here is an overview of the cities and productions
covered by the Fambach reviews, along with the years of production for which
there are documents in the archive:
Aachen Augsburg Berlin Braunschweig Bremen Breslau

1826 1828 1801 1819 1818 1809
1804 1823 1815
1811 1832 1818
1817 1820
1819 1824
1825
Cologne Darmstadt Dresden Frankfurt Hamburg Hannover
1823 1822 1817 1821 1815 1820
1825 1824 1822 1818 1821
1830 1825 1819 1824
1827 1824 1825
1828 1827
1829
1830
1831
1832
Karlsruhe Kassel Leipzig Mainz Mannheim* Munich
1817 1822 1822 1789 1824 1812
1828 1830 1826 1827 1825 1825
1828 1828 1826 1827
1827 1831
Prague Stuttgart Vienna Weimar Wiesbaden Wurzburg
1818 1812 1810 1791 1828 1829
1817 1812 1796 1818
1821
While this list should not be understood as a complete record of Egmont pro-
ductions in the period, it probably includes most, and certainly enough to pro-
vide a comprehensive picture of public reaction. Noticeable are the relatively
few reviews from Weimar and Vienna. Egmont was never a success in Vienna,
but this was the location of the first performance with Beethoven's symphonic
score. Its limited exposure there resulted in part from its positive treatment of a
people's rebellion against a foreign monarch, something which came too close
to home in a capital whose regent, Joseph n, had very recently repeated the pro-
cess in the Netherlands. The apparently meagre record of Weimar productions
is misleading, for Graf (11, I, 197) and Burkhardt list eleven more performances
1x6 Images of Goethe through Schiller's Egmont
there between 1796 and 1816, with others by the company at neighbouring
stages in Lauchstadt, Leipzig, and Halle. From the above it is also striking that
Frankfurt was especially important for Egmont on stage, despite the fact that the
city waited until 1821 to produce what it later felt was one of the great plays of
its native son. In the following I shall attempt to give a sampling of what these
reviews contain, and then to extract their common themes and thrusts for dis-
cussion in subsequent chapters.
It should be stressed from the start that one of the pervading characteristics of
this corpus is contradiction, still typical of theatre and art reviews today. It is
common in the corpus for a review full of praise for actors and production to be
countered in another journal by a cry of dismay. At times the reviews are even
more revealing of the relationships among critics themselves than the action on
stage. "Wenn man iiber eine Darstellung wie Egmont, nichts weiter sagen will
oder kann, als Herr F. dariiber sagte, so thate man wohl besser zu schweigen," be-
gins a Dresden critic, concluding his own review with "doch ich will ja nicht die
Vorstellung, sondern nur die Rezension des Herrn F. rezensiren."4 Individual
taste also has a lot to do with judgements rendered. The reviews remind us re-
peatedly that we are dealing not just with a world of literature, and certainly not
with an established set of aesthetic norms, but with the humans who brought
texts to life, with their own vanities, foibles, and flaws. The reviews reveal, for ex-
ample, many technical gaffes, for example, that "der Strafien-Prospekt zweimal
hintereinander zur Halfte in die Hohe ging, wahrend dem Monolog des Brack-
enburg, gleich bei der Verwandlung, mithin ehe Klarchen auftritt, vorfiel."5 In
Frankfurt, "Eine abermalige Ungeschicklichkeit des Theatermeisters brachte
Verwirrung in die Florgardine, welche vor die Traumgestalt fallt und verdarb
zum Theil die schone Scene."6 In Hamburg, "war der Schemel, auf welchem
Clarchen vor Egmont knieen soil, zu hoch oder Egmonts Sessel nicht hoch
genug. Clarchen konnte die Vorschrift des Dichters nicht erfullen, ihre Arme auf
Egmonts Schoofi zu legen, und das Bild, welches der Zuschauer schon durch die
Lektiire kannte und erwartete, war verungliickt."7 The words "schon durch die
Lekture kannte" are a useful reminder that many of the audience at die time had
read die text and this triggered expectations about what they would see on stage.
Similar effects were produced by actors intentionally, as in Hanover: "Hrn.
Geifilers Buffonnerie am unrechten Orte verdarb wieder einige ernste Scenen;
wer lacht nicht gern? doch lacht man nicht am Sarge und auf dem Hochge-
richt."8 Perhaps we should be careful about taking Egmont performances so seri-
ously, for some of the contemporary actors obviously did not. Anecdotes about
actors' incompetence or misbehaviour abound. In Breslau, "war indessen ...
Wilhelm von Oranien leider in die Hande des Herrn [Carl Eduard] von Holtei
[1797-1880] gerathen, welcher im AeuEern sowohl, als im Spiel, vollkommen
einer Marionette glich. Herr [(Johann) Heinrich Ludwig] Schmelka [1777-
1837] machte aus dem Vansen einen Bejazzo."9 This was matched in Cologne -
"Den Schreiber Vansen machte Herr Jost zum formlichen Juden" - which
127 Reflections of the Text in Performance
makes one wonder just what kinds of adaptations were in vogue.10 In most the-
atres there were in fact ongoing casting problems with sometimes bizarre results,
as here in Mannheim:
Wilhelm von Oranien, Herr Thlirnagel, leistete so viel in seinen Kraften stand; die Rolle
ist nicht fur ihn, sie paf?t fur Hrn. Brandt.
Herzog von Alba, Herr Brandt, leistete so viel in seinen Kraften stand; die Rolle ist
nicht fur ihn, sie pafit fur Hrn. Thiirnagel. Nun frage ich aber: wie ist eine solche Ver-
wechselung verniinftig denkbar? Diese beiden Rollen konnten gar nicht ungeschickter
ausgetheilt werden. Man verwechsele die Rollen, und wir sehen zwei vorziigliche Lei-
stungen, wahrend sich auf diese Weise Herr Thiirnagel sehr beengt fiihlt und Herr
Brandt um nichts und wieder nichts sich so gewaltig abdeklamirt, daf? ein Menschenohr
gar nicht im Stande ist, diesen Strom von Bafi-Tonen aufzunehmen.
Klarchen, Dem. Kinkel, hat nichts fur diese Rolle, als ein anmuthiges Singstimm-
chen, womit sie das Liedchen ganz allerliebst vortragt. Fiir den iibrigen Theil der Rolle
hat sie weder Figur, noch Kraft, noch Phantasie genug.
Bei der ersten Zusammenkunft mit Egmont erregte sie einigemal lautes Lachen, und
das blofi durch eine ihr eigne Natiirlichkeit, die iibrigens dem Charakter Klarchens nicht
entspricht. Ober Klarchen darf nie gelacht werden.11
Serious stuff, these classics, of course, not to be trifled with. For many, Klarchen
enjoyed a status alongside Joan of Arc, this at times being transferred in the au-
dience's mind to the identity of the actress who played her. The following re-
markably personal confession from an aging theatre fan rings as a passionate
testimonial to the power of actress Karoline Benda's Klarchen in Karlsruhe:
So etwas Wunderschones, Lieblich-Trauriges hatte ich noch nie gesehn, selbst in meinen
Marchentraumen nicht — und dazu diese siifie, innige Stimme! Die Benda ward von
jenem Abend an meine ganze Liebe, mein hochstes Idol ... und noch heute, nach 60
Jahren, ergluht mein altes Herz in Liebe und defer, tiefer Wehmuth, wenn ich des holden
Frauenbildes und der herrlichen Kiinstlerin gedenke, die einst mein kindliches Herz so
ganz erfullte — und die so unsaglich traurig endete ... ich ruhte nicht, bis ich durch eine
Schulkameradin, in deren Hause und Familie die Benda lebte, der Kiinsderin bekannt
und lieb geworden war. Ich durfte mit ihr spazieren gehn, ihr die Rollen iiberhoren, vor
ihr deklamiren, tanzen, plaudern - und sie von ganzem Herzen lieb haben. Wie mich das
begliickte! Die Mutter sah es gern, dafi die allgemein geliebte und geachtete Kiinstlerin,
die so still fur sich lebte und den Karlsruher Kaffeegesellschaften nie ein Staubchen fur
die Medisance lieferte, ihr flatterhaftes Linchen gern um sich duldete. — Ich wurde durch
diesen Umgang manierlicher in Gang und Haltung und im Benehmen, hielt mich sau-
berer in der Kleidung und sprach "hochdeutscher." Wenn mir im Eifer des Zungleins doch
zuweilen ein echt Karlsruhesches "Willsch'te" und "Hasch'te" entschlupfte, so brauchte
die Mutter nur zu sagen: "Lina, wenn Fraulein Benda Dich so horte!" - und ich nahm
mich zusammen. - Ja, ich glaube ehrlich, ich wurde durch die Benda auch besser!12
Much has been written in the last decade about the image of female actors and
their general disrepute among eighteenth and nineteenth-century contemporar-
ies (see for example Inge Buck 1988, Ursula Geitner 1988, Ruth-Ellen Joeres
1986, Susanne Kord 1992, Renate Mohrmann 1989, and Karin A. Wurst 1991).
This passage might well have been of use to them. It provides at least on one
level evidence for the claim that the stage at the time really did have a pedagogi-
cal function in society, and that women actors played an important positive role
therein, apparently exerting an influence on theatre-goers which ranged from
their moral standards to their dress and language. Perhaps the level of this effect
is not that envisioned by those concerned with aesthetics in the late eighteenth
century, but it does accord with the some of the social realities of the time. The
passage also attests to the celebrity status of many of these actors, a concept that
will become increasingly important for our analysis.
The reviews often reveal as much about the audience and critics as the perfor-
mance itself, as in Breslau where Klarchens affection for Brackenburg evoked
this aside: "Eine meiner Nachbarinnen im Theater aufierte wenigstens ganz
naiv - und sie war recht jugendlich und liebenswiirdig - sie wiirde sich nie i
einen solchen — Liebhaber verliebt haben."13 The young woman's personal aura
and perhaps his own future prospects with her were as much in the mind of this
critic as the tragedy on stage. Some of the reactions to productions in Goethe's
home town suggest a similar distraction from the play itself. There, " [begannen]
bei dem ersten Zeichen mit der Klingel immer fiinf Minuten vor jeder Ver-
wandlung die Hauser und Palaste schon zu wanken, die Thiiren lofiten sich aus
ihren Fugen, wodurch fast der jedesmalige Schluf? und Abgang sehr beein-
trachtiget wurde; sogar durch die Wande spazierten die Schauspieler in den Saal
herein." The last suggests that both cast and audience were as much interested
in socializing during the "Frefipause" as performing or watching any aesthetic
niceties.14 So much for generalizations. In order to obtain a geographically bal-
anced understanding of the entire Fambach corpus, I shall focus now on seven
major cities, for each of which there are multiple critiques of the same produc-
tion, even the same performance; and I shall blend ancillary information about
less prominent stages into the account from time to time. The seven cities are
Mainz, where the play premiered, Berlin, Mannheim, Vienna, Stuttgart, Ham-
burg, and Frankfurt/Main.
EGMONT IN MAINZ
The first review of the premiere of Egmont in Mainz, despite the generally ac-
cepted assumption that its text base was Goethe's original, speaks of "Gothens
Egmont mit Abanderungen." "Die Erscheinungs-Scene der Clarchen muste
natiirlich wegbleiben. Das Snick ist bei uns wohlfeil nachgedruckt, und war da-
her in den Handen aller Zuschauer; man las nach, und war unzufrieden, daf?
vieles geandert, besonders, dafi die obige Scene ausgelassen war."15 Even for its
premiere Egmont was substantially adapted. The reviewer suggests further that
the audience had all read the text beforehand (we just saw that this was also the
case in Hamburg in 1827), and were even following along in their seats - obvi-
ously the body of the theatre itself was lit, as was the custom then, with direct
effect on the social interaction of those therein. The audience's dissatisfaction
seemed to result in large part from the fact that the production before them
strayed from the text, was in fact an adaptation. Several important points for
our discussion emerge: the tension beteen text and performance; the audience's
prior knowledge of the text; and the nature and extent of adaptation. A second
review of the same performance complains:
bei der heutigen Vorstellung gieng noch unendlich mehr durch die ausserordentliche
Verstummelung des Stiiks verloren ... ich begreife also nicht, wie man hier so unbarm-
herzig mit dem guten Egmont umspringen konnte, da£ man die meisten Stellen, worin
vom Gewissenszwang und von der neuen Lehre die Rede ist ... ausmerzte, dafi man die
herlichen Monologen so unverwantwortlich verstummelte ... Aber warum liefi man
Klarchen nicht so einfach schon, wie der Dichter, hinter dem Vorhang sterben? Warum
mufi sie noch ins Gefangnis stiirzen, da Egmont zum Blutgeriiste abgefiihrt wird, das
Interesse der lezten Szenen, den Eindruk, den Egmonts unglukliches Schiksal auf den
Zuschauer macht, schwachen und zerstreuen?'6
This gives a much better idea of the alarming "Verstummelung" that occurred.
It would seem that not only was the dream vision omitted, but many weighty
passages and monologues were deleted (perhaps some because of the censor, as
Pfeiffer Belli suggests, 81), and an entirely new scene invented which landed
Klarchen in Egmonts cell. The exasperated reviewer finally gasps: "Glaubt man,
das Ding hier besser zu verstehen, als Gothe?" Now that is a good question.
The review also includes a lengthy section on the actors, among them, as
Egmont, "Siegfr. Ghe. Eckart gen.[annt] Koch," that is, not the famous actor
and troupe leader Heinrich Gottfried Koch (1703-75) who had died four years
earlier, but rather the lesser known Siegfried Gotthelf Eckardt [sic] (1754-1831),
who acted under the pseudonym Koch.The evaluation of individual actors' per-
formances is a major part of most reviews in this corpus and deserves special at-
tention. From the beginning, Egmont had its share of strong leads, with
favourite actors praised repeatedly for dieir refinement of specific roles, particu-
larly Egmont and Klarchen of course. The Mainz review closes with some refer-
ence to the costuming of the play: "Noch mufi ich anfiihren, dafi dies Stiik im
Ganzen ziemlich getreu dem Kostiim seiner Zeit gegeben wurde." Along with
scenery and sets, this is an aspect that occupied the minds of critics increasingly
as time passed, but in the early years it was very much overshadowed by lengthy
assessments of the actors' performances.
The Mainz productions of Egmont in 1827/28 raise further questions about
the extent to which the original was adapted there. These performances should
be seen in conjunction with a concurrent production in nearby Wiesbaden

where most of the same actors performed for the pleasure of spa guests. A play-
ful reviewer - "Ah! Gothe kommt doch noch an die Reihe! Nun es war auch
einmal Zeit!" — describes the formal structure of Egmont simply as a "Trauer-
spiel in so und so viel Akten. Im Buche sind fiinf Akte angegeben, auf dem Zet-
tel vier, und wir mufiten uns daher bedeutende Abkiirzungen gefallen lassen ...
Glaubt denn die Direction, das Entree sey so geringe, daf? sich der Zuschauer
mit Bruchstiicken begniigen kb'nne? Nein, wir wollen Alles sehen, Alles!" We
know indeed that Goethe's original had five acts, and that Schiller's adaptation
three - but four - what version is this - perhaps the four-act version of the
Mannheim manuscript? However, the indignant demand following, to see the
entire play instead of a truncated version, seems to be linked more to the price
of admission than aesthetic considerations. An accusing finger is pointed at all
possible parties — "der Direktor, oder der Regisseur, oder der Souffleur, oder der
Inspicient, oder der Theatermeister kann nur der Schuldige seyn" — without a
thought that they perhaps saw this version as more effective for that theatre and
that occasion. For this critic, Goethe's text must dominate. The review also re-
fers to a somewhat novel handling of the dream vision: "Der Vorhang fiel
gerade in dem Augenblicke, als uns Egmont einen bedeutenden Traum erzahlen
sollte und hoffentlich wollte, und als Alba's Wache ihr Opfer zum Tode fuhren
soil. Was sind denn das fur verbessernde Abkiirzungen?" This is indeed strange,
for the debate over the dream vision focusses usually on whether it was indeed
enacted, as in productions close to Goethe's original, or mimed, as in Schiller's
adaptation. Here it seems to have been eliminated altogether either by intention
or blunder.'7 Finally, the review tells us, the "Chor (d.h. die sprechenden Cho-
risten) wirkten auch mit," leaving us only to guess at who these might be and
what they did, for there is no such representation in either Goethe's or Schiller's
versions. A review of Egmont in Mainz, covering a performance one year later,
makes no mention of these idiosyncracies, concentrating entirely on the actors'
performances instead.18 In sum, reviews of Egmont in Mainz and Wiesbaden
leave us with an incomplete understanding of what the public there did in fact
see, but it was certainly nothing that had appeared in print.
EGMONT IN BERLIN
Berlin was the first city to stage Egmont after Schiller's version appeared in
Weimar in 1796 and the Fambach corpus includes broad coverage of produc-
tions at the Nationaltheater in 1801,1804,1811,1817, and 1819, when further per-
formance was banned by King Frederick William in. The first of these is
characterized by an interesting exchange of correspondence between the well
known Berlin actress Friederike (Auguste Konradine) Unzelmann (1760-1815)
and Goethe, initiated by her request for a manuscript of Schiller's adaptation
and permission to perform it at a benefit. Frederick William in had grudgingly
granted permission, wary of Egmont's political themes, and Iffland, who had
played the lead in Weimar five years earlier, was now in charge of the Nation-
altheater. Friederike Unzelmann was a person of considerable charm and guile,
for it is clear from her request that she did not want to play Goethe's original,
yet could hardly afford to bruise the ego of the great one: "Hierzu mus ich nun
an Er. Hochwohlgeborn Giithe appelliren, mir doch unter welchen Bedingun-
gen es auch seyn mag gefalligst die Umarbeidung zukommen zu lassen nach
welcher es in Weimar gegeben ist" (n Nov. 1800; Briefe an Goethe, 269, not in
Goethes Briefe). Never averse to the charms of a lady, Goedie acquiesced, and the
play premiered in Berlin on February 25 in three acts, with Reichardt's music,
and with Iffland as Oranien, Beschort as Egmont, and Unzelmann herself as
Klarchen. The first review called the performance "keine Sensation," adding
that "dem Publiko der groEere Theil der Schuld zufallen mag, insofern man von
der Schuld gewisser Theaterleute, die noch immer Schauspieler heifien, und in-
dem sie die Nebenrollen entstellen, das Stuck zu Grunde richten, abstrahirt."19
While the tomfoolery of some secondary actors seems to have been as problem-
atic in Berlin as in Mainz, new complaints about the audience's intellectual in-
capacity and aesthetic insensitivity are levelled here. This reminds us that such
classical works as Egmont were embedded in a repertoire of much lighter fare
and indeed flew in the face of many of the public's theatrical expectations. A
second review of the same performance gives us essentially the first public
critical reaction to Schiller's adaptation: "Aber es wirkte bei weitem nicht, was
man sich davon vorgestellt hatte. Der Hauptgrund davon liegt in seiner
Umanderung. Zu den Auffuhrungen in Weimar war nehmlich dies Stuck sehr
umgeschmolzen worden, und Mad. Unzelmann bat sichs daher in dieser neuen
Gestalt von Gothe aus. Er schickte es ihr, und bei der Gelegenheit erfuhr man,
daf? die Umarbeitung von Schiller sei, dem Gothe, nach seiner sarkastischen
Weise, die schone frische Jugendgeburt zu beliebiger Erziehung hingegeben
hatte, ohne sich weiter darum zu bekummern. "20 Considering his proximity to
Iffland in Berlin and his intimate knowledge of how the Weimar version and
production of 1796 came to pass, this critic's ignorance of Schiller's true role in
the adaptation is amazing and his barb against Goethe entirely unfair. The liter-
ary mogul is depicted as sarcastic, ingenuous, manipulative, almost irresponsi-
ble; Schiller, the people's choice, is the innocently wronged. Later, however, we
will see that time and again the damage done to Goethe in comments such as
this is more than redressed by the adoration which by the time of his death
reached embarrassing proportions. Beyond this, the reviewer writes that despite
explicit advertisement of Schiller's three-act adaptation, "die Direktion hielt es
sogar fur nothwendig, dem Stucke noch mehr Leids anzuthun, um alles daraus
zu entfernen, was vielleicht noch in Berlin Anstofi geben konnte," reminding us
that in all of these productions the censor had the final word. Indeed, the Duke
of Weimar attended the premiere as a guest, so that we can only guess at how
truncated the text became as a result. Unzelmann's letter of April 1801 to Goethe
tells of the Duke's attendance and evaluation of the performance. She lays much
of the blame for the production's failure on (Friedrich Jonas) Beschort (1767-
1846) who played the lead. I shall examine this in detail in chapter 6 (Briefe an
Goethe, 337, #1221; letter not in Goethes Briefe).
A further review of the same production takes a new stance, one that will be-
come characteristic in coming years. Although it repeats some of the criticisms
voiced above, it judges that Egmont is ineffective on stage because it "ist also
nichts als eine Reihe schoner einzelner Scenen, die auf keinen Haupteindruck
hinwirken!"21 The assumption here is that the main problem with Egmont lies
not in adaptation, not in production, not in the actors who perform it or the
public who receives it, but rather in the play itself. The reviewer continues with
a lengthy aesthetic and literary discussion rather than a critique of what he has
seen, clearly another illustration of the tension between text and performance.
In the example of Mainz, this manifested itself through a public who had previ-
ously read the play and indeed was following it on stage with text in hand.
Their judgement, and that of the critic, was based on how closely that text was
followed. The Berlin critic goes one step further to question the dramatic viabil-
ity of even that original text.
Reviews of subsequent Berlin productions in 1804, 1811, 1817, and 1819 show
that Egmont continued to be adapted there. Goethe's friend Karl Friedrich
Zelter (1758-1832) saw the performance of 15 May 1811, in which the distin-
guished actress Amalie Wolff made a guest appearance as Klarchen, and was, ac-
cording to Zelter, "trefflich, und sauberlich, ja appetitlich gekleidet: ein Vorteil
den wir hier nur an der Madame Bethmann kennen."22 Zelter's assessment of
appropriate theatrical costume seemed to overlap with his taste for the opposite
sex. With a very different eye he describes Alba, who was, "um seine Lammer-
gestalt zu erheben, ausgeputzt wie ein Schlachtermeisterstiick."23 On 17 May 1817
Mme. Schirmer's performance as Klarchen included an appearance "nach dem
Tode (als Traumgesicht)," showing that Goethe's vision was by then rein-
serted.24 The new production of 1819 in the Opernhaus reverted to Goethe's
original entirely and included Beethoven's musical score. Reviews of it pay more
attention than we have seen before to the visual aspects, particularly the
costumes and sets. Naturally the dream vision of Klarchen is included, and we
begin to gain insight into how such a difficult scene was managed: "An der
Scenerei, dem Costum u.s.w. war mit Ausnahme der Erscheinung Clarchens,
nichts auszusetzen. Letztere war aber verfehlt, und zwar pantomimisch, weil
die Freiheit zuviel Apparat brauchte; ferner scenisch, weil eine lichte einfache
Wolke besser gewirkt haben wiirde als der wie ein Niirnberger Ei eingeschach-
telte Coconartige Regenbogen."2' Things seem to have improved already five
days later, if we are to believe a reviewer who saw die show then: "Insbesondere
hatte man die Erscheinung zweckmafiig verandert. Die Musik war nemlich fast
um die Halfte gekurzt; die Gottin hatte nichts mehr aufzulangen oder wegzu-
werfen: in der Rechten einen leichten Palmzweig, in der Linken die Lorbeerkrone
133 Refleaions of the Text in Performance
haltend, ruhte sie auf dem Kopfe eines Lowen, hinter dem eine weiSe Lanze mit
dem kleinen Freiheitshut und den 7 Pfeilen aufgesteckt war; Alles licht und in
Uebereinstimmung mit den Wolken gemalt. Sie bewegte sich wenig, aber sinnig
und leicht, und die Wirkung war lebhaft und allgemein."26 Visual dimensions
of production were gaining increasing attention, and it should be noted that
these included not just the sets, but the pantomimic activity of the actors. Dis-
cussion of these in fact takes up most of this lengthy review, and its primary fo-
cus was the famous Pius Alexander Wolff in the tide role, another in the line of
accomplished Egmonts. "Hr. Wolff hat den Egmont ubernommen," writes an-
other critic, "dai? er ihn vorziiglich durchfiihrt, dafiir biirgt sein Name."17 Such
evaluation betrays a respect for reputation, not just critical judgement of acting
technique. Wolff was indeed one of the most famous actors on the stage by this
time, having also been one of Goethe's chosen favourites in Weimar before fol-
lowing Iffland to Berlin. But the reviewer adds: "indessen ware zu wiinschen,
dafi seine Personlichkeit eine bessere Representation zuliefie." The two-sided
assessment, the one an uncritical recognition of reputation, the other presum-
ably based on some analysis of technique and effectiveness, points to a typical
dichotomy in the appraisal of acting at the time. Interestingly, Wolff saw fit to
defend himself soon after in a published letter, in which he also took the liberty
of critizing the entire production himself. He admits some weaknesses in his
performance, but adds that the second one was much improved, as were many
other aspects of the production.28 This reminds us that the question of adapta-
tion is continually complicated by the fact that the play was in flux even during
its run. Wolff says, for example, that Madame Stich who played Klarchen,
"auch in der Giftscene etwas gekiirzt hat, ... es ging alles sicherer, freier und be-
stimmter als in der ersten Vorstellung."
EGMONT IN MANNHEIM
Our third stage for examination is the Mannheim Nationaltheater, the source of
our manuscript in chapter 2. Fambach's extensive published work on this the-
atre's repertoire lists the first performance on ^6 December 1806 and the first to
use Beethoven's music on 21 March i8i4.i9 It is reasonable to assume that the six
performances in Mannheim before 1824 (in 1806,1810,1812,1813,1814, and 1818)
were based on Schiller's adaptation in the manuscript form, but when we look
at performances thereafter, we must understand the apparent mixture of
Goethe's original with Schiller's adaptation and Beethoven's music. The 1824
production calls Egmont a "Trauerspiel in 5, gegeben in 4 Abtheilungen, von
Gothe; mit Musik von Beethoven," which suggests an adaptation of Goethe's
text and recalls the markings throughout the manuscript which divided it into
Acts i-iv.3° Several later productions carry the same divisional designation in
the reviews. At least some text and elements that were missing from Schiller's
adaptation were now part of the performance, for example, the dream vision,
which this first reviewer refers to specifically as "Egmonts verkorperter Traum

vor der Schlufiszene" as opposed to his mimed enactment of the same. Other
reviews also give attention to the handling of this scene, for example: "Die Er-
scheinung beginnt, und Egmonts immer kiirzer werdender Athem verrath uns
seinen Antheil daran. Ergriffen und aufmerksam malt sich die Seele im Gesicht,
ohne Verzerrungen, ohne zu grofie Spannung. Es 1st ein freundliches Bild, das
vor seinem innern Auge schwebt, es ist eins mit seinem schon jenseits verklarten
Geiste."31 From this description it would seem that Goethe's actual vision and
Schiller's mimed version became wedded.
In Mannheim considerable attention was given to the visual aspects of pro-
duction, both with respect to acting and the physical properties of the stage.
The same review claims, for example: "eine gute Darstellung Egmonts ist eine
vortreffliche Schule fur Schauspieler, denn sie finden darin fast bei jedem Worte
Stoff zum Nachdenken und Studium. Wir reden hier nicht von Schauspielern,
die nicht studieren wollen, und die glauben, in dem Hersagen ihrer Rollen mit
steigender und fallender Stimme, im Schmachten bei Liebhaberrollen, und im
krampfhaften Verzerren der Gesichtsmuskeln, der Arme und Beine, im Toben
und Briillen, dafi man oft das dritte Wort nicht versteht, bei Heldenrollen, liege
das Geheimnifi der Kunst." This review suggests that acting is a precise, profes-
sional undertaking, but little is said about the specific technical details of effec-
tive and praiseworthy movement and gesture.
Regarding the visual aspects of the stage, we read: "Von ganz vorziiglicher
Schonheit und Vortrefflichkeit sind wohl die einzelnen Szenen, welche uns oft
mit wenigen "Worten das Treiben des niederlandischen Volks und seine Sitten so
wahr und bildlich darstellen. Nichts ist verfehlt, Leben und Natur sprechen aus
jedem Pinselstrich." Such praise of scenes and sets will also come to our atten-
tion in reviews from Frankfurt and Leipzig. They record an increasing sophisti-
cation of set design, and such turns of phrase as "bildlich darstellen" and
"sprechen aus jedem Pinselstrich" indicate a strong sense of linkage between
dramatic presentation and the plastic arts, terms similar to those used in
Goethe's writings on the aesthetics of the stage.
The costuming is also frequently mentioned in the Mannheim reviews, either
negatively, for example: "die untere Bekleidung Egmonts war nach diesiger Sitte
allzu knapp und expressiv" and "ob die zur Verherrlichung des Traumgesichts
aufgesteckte franzosische Jacobinermutze hier pafite, wird man leicht beur-
theilen konnen";32 or with admiration and praise, for example: "Die neuen,
schon gewahlten Anziige, mit denen sich Hr. Lowe heute ausgeschrniickt hatte,
mochten wohl auch ihren Antheil an dem beabsichtigten Eindrucke haben,
zumal in der, fur jeden Kunstler aufierst dankbaren Scene mit Klarchen, wo er
den Mantel aufschlagt, und diese, von dem physischen Glanze ihres Idols
berauscht, die einzelnen Schonheiten seiner Hiille mit kindischer Freude
bewundert. Hr. L. hat iibrigens das Verdienst, diesen Augensieg ohne Zuthun
der Theatercasse davon getragen zu haben"33 and "Das Kostiime, welches Herr
Lowe gewahlt hatte, war wohl etwas zu geziert, aber doch durch den verwende-
ten Reichthum und die, bis ins Kleinliche beobachtete Genauigkeit ein Beweis,
wie sehr er seine Kunst liebt und sein Publikum hochschatzt."34 Ferdinand
Lowe (1787—1832) was a great favourite in Mannheim and one of die foremost
Egmonts of his age, perhaps not just because of acting, or even his wonderful
costumes, for when he made a guest appearance in Leipzig, a reviewer wrote:
"Er hat eine schone Figur (von den hiesigen Damen besonders anerkannt, denn
sie allein fullten das Haus) ... die Damen nahmen mindestens sieben Achtel der
Platze ein."35 It seems that Lowe himself was responsible for creating this cos-
tume and his others as well. This is surprising in the case of Mannheim and
shows a loosening of productions there by this time. Before Dalberg's departure
in 1803 there was much tighter control over costume and coordination, as docu-
mented by Iffland's "Kleidungsreglement" of 1792 for the Mannheim theatre
(Pichler 331—38). I am reminded by this and the examples of less fortunate cos-
tume selection above that the entire range of costumes in a production was of-
ten uncoordinated, dependent instead on the means, taste, even the whim of
the individual actor. In this vein a Breslau critic laments that "Clarchen ... ganz
einer Gesellschafts-Mamsell unserer Tage glich. 1st denn bei der hiesigen Biihne
den Schauspielern ganz und gar die Wahl des Anzugs iiberlassen?"36 And a
Leipzig reviewer writes: "Dem Oranien, (Herr Genast) fehlte es an einer
entsprechenden Maske. Selbst die Farben des Costiims waren nicht angemessen
gewahlt. Es giebt eine Bedeutsamkeit der Farben, die selbst noch mehr als das
Historische des Costiims auf der Biihne beriicksicht werden mufi."37 This entire
field of visual presentation and coordination will receive closer attention when
we look at Goethe's work as director of the Weimar theatre. In fact the notion of
coordinating the entire production is one which is glaringly lacking in these re-
views, with a very few exceptions. Mannheim is one of the few stages where re-
viewers comment on the actual direction of the play, as in this compliment:
"Das Arrangement des Stiickes verrieth durchgangig Fleif? und Genauigkeit.
Das Lob dafiir gebiihrt dem Regisseur, Herrn Brandt. Es ist gar keine leichte
Aufgabe, eine Scene ... so zusammen zu arbeiten."38 When the direction of
actors is combined with all of the other dimensions of the theatre, the task is
indeed formidable.
EGMONT IN VIENNA
The Hof- und Nationaltheater (Burgtheater) in Vienna was the first to present
Goethe's Egmont in five acts with Beethoven's musical score in 1810, repeating it
two years later.39 Most of the commentary in the reviews concerns the actors,
and approval is lessened by occasional expressions of disdain, one reviewer
lamenting, for example: "das Stuck schien ... ohne Probe in die Scene gebracht
zu seyn. Jenes Ineinandergreifen, die wechselseitige Unterstiitzung, die nur
dann statt hat, wenn alle Mitglieder ihrer Rolle machtig sind, fehlte dieser
Vorstellung."40 It should be kept in mind just how flexible the casting was at the
time, with actors often reassigned during a production run, and guest perform-
ers from other theatres commonly inserted, as we saw in Berlin, when both
Herr and Madame Wolff made guest appearances. Rehearsals were not only of-
ten impossible under such circumstances, but on many stages they had not yet
become required preparation for performance.
The most celebrated aspect of the Viennese productions, however, was not
the play but Beethoven's music, which remains intimately identified with
Egmont to our own day. The polite, but lively correspondence between the two
masters of their respective crafts records their admiration for each other, the
genesis of their partnership, and its fruition in 1810. As we saw in chapter 3
(note 12), Beethoven's correspondence with his publisher Breitkopf und Hartel
in Leipzig and contributions by music critics provide a detailed account of how
the score was to blend with and complement Goethe's text. Because of this co-
operation, after 1810 the notion of adapting Egmont gained sharper focus: pro-
ducers had to settle either for Goethe's original in five acts with Beethoven's
score - for which it had been explicitly written - or for Schiller's adaptation in
three acts without it. But we have already seen that the ingenuity of some direc-
tors even included a mixing of the two. Vienna's interest in Egmont from the
perspective of Beethoven's music has an amusing modern parallel in the recent
Bonn production (chapter 9).
EGMONT IN STUTTGART
As the capital of Schiller's homeland, and in close proximity to his birthplace of

Marbach, Stuttgart took particular pride in producing the work of its departed
son (conveniently ignoring the unpleasant circumstances under which the flight
had occurred). One reviewer speaks of a version based on "die neue Bearbeitung
Gothe's,"41 yet details from it show that the Duchess of Parma and Machiavell
were absent, and another reviewer a year later decries the fact that what they saw
was "durch Zuschneiden arg zugerichtet ... und eine solche Zurichtung
schreibt man auf dem Theaterzettel unserm Schiller zu!!!"41 These and other re-
views concentrate for the most part on a discussion of the actors' effectiveness,
except for one which delivers lengthy insights into sets and staging:
Gleich am Anfang, als Soldaten und Burger quer iiber die Biihne hiniiberschossen, so daf5
das Ziel hinter den Coulissen der andern Seite gedacht werden mufite, war meiner Phan-
tasie der Raum zu eng, und sie hatte sich beim Lesen dieses alles viel welter, die Scene
iiberhaupt viel lebendiger gedacht. Das Aehnliche kehrte am Anfang des funften Aktes
wieder, wo Klarchen in der Nacht auf der Strafie die Burger zur Befreiung Egmonts er-
muthigen will. Ueberhaupt fallt es der Einbildungskraft viel leichter, sich ein offentliches
Leben, das Treiben, die Anliegen, die Furcht einer grofien Stadt, wie Briissel, zu denken,
als der Kunst — dieses darzustellen, und eine Theaterdirektion hat oft alle Weisheit auf-
zubieten, um auf dem beschrankten Raume und mit sparsamen Mitteln wenigstens
durch Andeutungen an ein reiches Leben und grofie Bewegungen zu erinnern.43
Two fundamental problems underly this description. How many would agree
today that it is easier for a reader of a play to imagine such scenes than to see
them presented in a sophisticated manner on stage, or, even better, on the
screen? On the one hand there is no question that the technical potential of
both stage and screen could today create for viewers highly believable scenes of
this type. On the other hand, the power of a suggestive text to feed a fertile
imagination will always be virtually unlimited. The first problem here is the
clash between the different modes of communication, literature and theatre.
The reviewer expects mimetic realism on stage and finds what he sees inferior to
the account he can read on his own, but what he read was in fact much further
from the attempted realism he saw in the theatre, for a literary text uses only
one range of signs to communicate that realism, the written symbols of lan-
guage; all die rest is imagined by the reader. The same person, when confronted
with a wide range of signs on stage, from language to gesture, costumes, sets,
and lighting, surprisingly judges the realism inferior. As the range of signs in-
creases, the incentive to imagine things declines, as does the sense of responsi-
bility to do so. Whose fault is it that the scene is unrealistic? In this reviewers
eyes it is certainly not the fault of the audience, but of those who construct the
sign system on stage. How would he react to a minimalist stage rendition with
no sets, scenes, or costumes, one in which the actors simply deliver the dramatic
text? It is obvious from this review and others that staging, sets, costuming, and
acting often did as much to jar audience members out of the mimetic illusion as
they did to lull them into it, particularly in the larger public scenes that are the
focus of this critique. They posed problems of spacing, blocking, perspective,
and set design that more intimate scenes did not. This entire aspect was of
course of great concern to Goethe in the development of his theatre aesthetics
and practice, as I shall show in chapter 7 as well as in the final chapter on recent
productions whete we will see how some directors addressed these problems in
ways very similar to Goethe himself (e.g., the Weimar Egmont of 1979).
EGMONT IN HAMBURG
The opening performance in the Stadttheater in Hamburg on I April 1815 was a

doubly jubilant occasion. A proudly independent city had just been liberated
from a decade of French occupation and the accomplished and beloved actor
Friedrich Ludwig Schmidt (1772-1841) had just been appointed as codirector of
that stage. That Egmont was chosen for this opening speaks for its status in
Hamburg by this time.44 What was advertised as a "Trauerspiel in fiinf Akten
von Goethe" was, according to one of its first reviewers, "nach des Verfassers
Bearbeitung fur die Berliner Biihne und von der kiinstlichen Musik Beethovens
begleitet."45 But as we saw in the Berlin materials, that "Bearbeitung" was in

many ways far removed from Goethe's original. Still, Beethoven's music obvi-
ously accompanied the drama. The same reviewer gives a wealth of interesting
information about the visual elements involved. Mile. Wrede's Klarchen re-
ceived due praise, "nur war der Schnitt und die falschrothe Farbe (Amarant)
ihres Kostums nicht gliicklich gewahlt, und wiirde schwarz, mit Weifi dekorirt,
uberall und [wiirde] besonders in der herrlichen Scene mit dem in seiner rei-
chen spanischen Grandezza sie besuchenden Geliebten von grofierer mah-
lerischer Wirkung gewesen seyn, als wie an seinen Knieen hingelagert nun die
Farbe ihres Kleides mit der Scharlachfarbe seines prachtig gestickten Mantels
widerlich abstach." This is a wonderfully vivid evocation of three important fac-
ets, Klarchen's persona, Egmont's grand entry as a Knight of the Golden Fleece,
and her classic pose at his knee. This reviewer emphasized the importance of vi-
sual images to enhance the roles of Egmont and Klarchen. Just as arrestingly,
Herr Kiihne as Alba portrayed a darkly convincing tyranny not just through the
dialogue, but because he was "vom kahlen Scheitel bis zum klirrenden Sporn
herab ganz der grafiliche Alba, dessen nur allzu ahnliches Abbild Deutschland
seit vielen Jahren zu seiner Qua! kennen lernte, Hamburg in dem letzten zu
seinem Verderben kannte, und das Publikum gleich bey Kiihne's erstem noch
stummem Auftreten schaudernd wieder erkannte." This is a superb description.
Albas very appearance transforms him not just into the image of the Spanish
oppressor in Egmont, but into a visual symbol of the occupying forces whose de-
parture now releases a jubilance in this city and a celebration on its stage. As far
as the critical reaction to Egmont is concerned, direct connections between this
so thoroughly political play and what was in fact going on right outside the
stage doors are pitifully meagre in the reviews, partly because of the threat of the
censor. The above account provides a truly grand exception and one that points
to the political relevance of many modern productions.
We are also treated to some insight into the technical handling of the dream-
vision scene in Hamburg productions:
Was die uberall mit vielen Schwierigkeiten verkniipfte Traum-Erscheinung Klarchens be-
trifrt, so gliickte sie auch hier nicht sonderlich, wenn gleich das Bild trefflich erleuchtet
und hinter einem doppelten dann einfach verschwindenden Florvorhang, wie in einer
lichten Nebelhiille, an sich selbst in der Oeffhung des dunkeln Hintergrundes von guter
Wirkung war. Aber es war zu hoch tiber dem Ruhebette Egmonts und noch dazu auf-
recht scehend. In halbliegender Stellung sichtbar und sich hinter dem Bette des Schlafen-
den auf einer Wolke erhebend, wiirde die Handlung und Bewegung der Figur so wie das
Bild viel gewonnen haben: ungefahr so, wie Oeser die Titelvignette zum 5ten Bande der
Goeche'schen Schriften in der Goschen'schen Ausgabe vom J. 1787 entworfen hat.4*
Yet the production was without question a grand success in the eyes of this re-
viewer, who sums up die triumph with a human touch that can still evoke a
smile: "Das Parterre ward davon so hingerissen, dafi es in seinem Entziicken am

Schlufi Egmont - vom Henkerblock, und sein Klarchen aus ihrem Grabe her-
vorrief, um seine beyden Lieblinge zu beklatschen. Der brave Kiinstler verier
dann auch iiber dem tumultuarischen Larm etwas die Tramontana, als er beym
Hervortreten Mile. Wrede nicht allein damit entschuldigte, sie sey bereits zu
Hause gegangen, sondern auch naiv hinzusetzte: 'Sie werde sich die Ehre auf ein
andermal vorbehalten.'"
Some reviews of later Hamburg productions cooled off considerably from
this while others showed a similar enthusiasm. Later productions show some
similarities with this first one, as well as some interesting variants. Of the ver-
sion which premiered on 5 August 1818 we read: "die Bearbeitung in vier Acten,
nach welcher es hier aufgefiihrt wird, scheint in der Hauptsache dieselbe zu
seyn, welche Schiller noch fur die Weimarische Biihne, in Auftrag Gothe's, be-
sorgt hat."47 It seems that a change of preference had occurred since 1815; more-
over, there is no mention of Beethoven or of music of any kind. This lengthy
review concentrates foremost on analysing the rhetorical technique of the ac-
tors, an ongoing concern of informed critics. A further performance on 28 Au-
gust 1819 to honour Goethe's seventieth birthday resulted in several reviews,
which for the most part lauded his literary genius instead of analysing the per-
formance and described at length the prologue to honour "Deutschlands
grofiten Dichter." This reviewer even goes so far as to add: "Es sollte wohl
eigentlich keine Biihne in Deutschland gefunden worden seyn, auf welcher
nicht dieser Geburtstag durch eine dramatische Vorstellung einer grofien oder
kleinern Schopfung des grofien Dichters und durch einen angemessenen Prolog
gefeiert worden ware, und jede Direktion, die es vergafi, oder aus engherzigen
Beweggriinden unterliefi, 1st ihrem Publikum Rechenschaft schuldig wegen
einer solchen Unterlassungssiinde."48 As Goethe's death approached, the pro-
duction of his works was becoming almost an issue of national pride instead of
a purely artistic one. Many theatres offered a Goethe play on August 28, many
of diem Egmont, again a testimony to its stature in what could already be called
a Goethean canon. From this time until our own, the question of separating ar-
tistic products and their merits from die iconized national idol who produced
them becomes relevant.
Hamburg's Egmont of 1824 was also produced "in der Gestalt, wie er von
Schiller spater fur das Theater bearbeitet worden," and from further details of
his description it seems indeed to be the 1796 Weimar version.49 This reviewer
also belongs very much to the text-based school, lamenting the adaptations, es-
pecially the change of the vision to Egmont's mimed dream, and recommending
to those who attend "noch besser eine gute Vorlesung dieses herrlichen Trauer-
spiels." A great deal of time is spent as well on a close analysis of the actors' per-
formances in light of Goethe's text. The 1827 production seems to have found a
middle ground between Goethe and Schiller, having once more four acts and
Beethoven's music. This again was a gala performance, with Egmont chosen to
open Carl Friedrich Schinkel's (1781-1841) newly designed theatre on the Damm-
torstrafie. Because of this, the reviews contain information about the theatre's
interior and audience, which tells much about the contemporary theatre scene:
Die Hohe des Saales, seine Pracht, und die glanzende Beleuchtung gewahren beim Ein-
tritt einen imposanten Anblick. Vier Gallerien erheben sich in unbeengten Zwischenrau-
men iibereinander und tragen sich selbst, man sieht keine Saule im ganzen Hause, auch
vom Parkett aus nicht die Scheidewande der Logen. Diese sind nicht ausgeschweift wie
im alten Hause, sondern ohne Unterbrechung laufen die reichverzierten Range in einem
schonen Bogen herum und verhindern dadurch bei der hochsten Eleganz die Ueberla-
dung. Ein einziger Kronleuchter erhellt alles, so dai? man in den entlegensten Winkeln
ohne Miihe den Comodienzettel lesen kann. Die Vbrderplatze in den ersten beiden Ran-
gen waren bei der heutigen Vorstellung nur von Damen besetzt, in den hoheren Rangen
waren die Reihen schon bunter und es war ein besonders schoner Anblick, das ganze
Haus so gefullt zu sehen.50
This is a theatre of elegance, in social terms not much removed from the hierar-
chichal interior arrangement of edifices in baroque times, with distinct portions
dominated by distinct classes of people and levels of wealth. The beauty of the
construction itself was appreciated as an important part of the aesthetic experi-
ence, and at least on this night probably more important than the play. Special
attention is given to the massive candelabra illuminating the gathering. It had
the immensely practical function of allowing audience members to read their
programs — for the die-hards also their originals of Goethe's text — but more im-
portantly it allowed everyone to see everyone else, and what a splendid position
has been arranged for the ladies in the front rows! Propped up in their finery,
they are evidently willing showpieces of the men who escorted them, now
seated further back. We cannot overestimate the power of social interactions be-
yond the proscenium.
EGMONT IN FRANKFURT
The largest group of reviews in the Fambach corpus deals with productions
in Goethe's home town. Reviewers had forgotten Eckardt/Koch's Frankfurt
Egmont of 15 May 1789 when they called the production of 23 April 1821 a
premiere for that city. But they did have a point - it is surprising that Egmont
took so long to regain a footing. The 1789 version was, with only minor
changes, the same production as that which premiered in Mainz, along with its
"Verstummelungen" and the other peculiarities already discussed (Pfeiffer-Belli,
82—3). Reviews of the play's first Frankfurt revival in 1821 indicate at the start
that it was performed basically in Goethe's version, as before, but now with
Beethoven's music. Still, as we have learned about similar claims regarding
Goethe's version in other cities, the constellation Goethe/Beethoven spawned
many mutants. In at least some of the productions, for instance, in 1825, "Mar-
garetha von Parma, Machiavell blieben unsichtbar,"51 and in others, "war
ohnediei? darin schon vieles gestrichen."'1 Pfeiffer-Belli reacts with outraged in-
dignation at the "rucksichtslose Textverstiimmelung, die man damals klassi-
schen Werken zuteil werden liefi. Die Schillersche Vergewaltigung geniigte dem
Frankfurter Regisseur scheinbar noch nicht" (87).a Modern directors facing
similar charges (as we shall see in chapter 9) are thus in good historical com-
pany. One major advantage to performing Schiller's adaptation, at least in the
eyes of the general public, was that it did not last as long, but their expressed
satisfaction - "Wir fanden es angenehm, dafi wir um 9 das Schauspielhaus
verlassen konnten" - is summarily condemned by Pfeiffer-Belli as "eine Verbeu-
gung vor dem spiefibiirgerlichen genius loci, der die Kunst zwingt, sich lokalen
Sitten anzubequemen" (92). He was of the same generation and frame of mind
as Eugen Kilian, and, as we shall see in chapter 9, even as some haughty thespi-
ans today.
The performance of 7 April 1827 is reviewed as "Egmont. Trauerspiel in fiinf
Aufziigen, von Gothe, mit Musik von Beethoven," yet it is then described as
"Gothe's Egmont, in der Gestalt, wie er von Schiller spater fur das Theater bear-
beitet worden," the adaptation roundly criticized by one reviewer, who never-
theless adds: "Dieser Mangel ungeachtet, deren theatralische Nothwendigkeit
ich nie [habe] einsehen konnen, ja die mir immer als eine unbegreifliche
Versiindigung gegen den Geist der Poesie erschienen sind, habe ich dennoch die
Auffiihrung Egmont's nicht versaumen mogen."54 A reviewer of Egmont there
three years later laments the cuts, yet at the same time sees their wisdom: "Die
einsichtsvolle Weise, mit welcher die Abkiirzungen in diesem Stiicke vorgenom-
men wurden, hat, wenn wir auch gestehen, da£ jedes hinweggelassene Wort
eine Siinde ist, dennoch die Handlung keinen wesendichen Nachtheil ge-
bracht. "5S Another reviewer of the same performance views the revisions in a
broader light: "Wie sehr die Meisterwerke grofier Dichter durch die Scheere des
Theaterschneiders meistens verlieren, ist bekannt. Indessen ist dieses Be-
schneiden nun einmal ein nothwendiges Uebel geworden, da Biihne und Publi-
kum nicht sind, wie sie seyn sollten und wir wollen es uns gefallen lassen, lieber
jene Meisterwerke arrangirt und zusammengedriickt, als gar nicht zu sehen."56
The practice of adaptation was obviously by diis time common for virtually all
productions, but the notion that this might indeed enhance the work in perfor-
mance instead of detract from it still remains beyond the scope of this, and most
other reviewers. It is accepted as inevitable, but seen as a weakness shared by the
public and all those associated with the theatre production. At this point the
suggestion that the main problems lie in the text itself is rarely made, nor does
the idea occur that original text and live performance are in some ways mutually
incompatible.
This large body of critical reaction to the Frankfurt productions comments
on several issues beyond the question of adaptation, specifically, staging and
costume, acting personnel and technique, the literary and historical qualities of
Egmont, and its place in the canon of German dramatic literature. With regard
to the first, a reviewer of the 182,1 premiere saw the visual elements as one of the
highlights: "mehrere Decorationen waren neu gefertigt, die Costume mit his-
torischer Treue angeordnet und die Scenen mit Sorgfalt, besonders die Traum-
erscheinung mit grofier Wirkung vollfiihrt."57 Such attention to the visual
elements of production was increasing on most stages, as we have seen in some
other centres. A review of the performance on 5 September 1828 praises the sets
and crowd scenes extensively, specifically the depiction of daily life in the Neth-
erlands,58 and this review of a production near the end of Goethe's life seems to
have the visual elements high on its list of desiderata:
Mehr Sorgfalt fur die Costumes, verschiedartigere Lichtfarben in den Anziigen der in der
Wirthsschenke versammelten Burger (erste Scene) bei malerischer Gruppirung dersel-
ben, die ohne berechnet zu scheinen, sich in alien Stellungen und Bewegungen zeigen
mufi, und, ohne pedantisch verfolgt zu werden, in alien folgenden Volksscenen zu beach-
ten sind, liefert die herrliche Dichtung zugleich vorziiglichen Stoff zu den anziehendsten
niederlandischen Bildern. Wenn noch aufierdem mehr flir die bessere Wahl der Decora-
tionen, zeitgemafier und den Situationen angemessenere Ameublierung und sorgsamer
Ausschmuckung iiberhaupt, geschieht, so gewinnt die Vorstellung in plastischer und sce-
narischer Hinsicht sehr bedeutend. Am nachtheiligsten wirkt hierauf beim Schlul? der
fast undurchdringliche Dampf, welchen das griechische Feuer erzeugt, der Egmont,
Klarchen und sammtliche Umgebungen in Finsternifi hiillt, und nicht so, als zeige sich
ein guter Geist, der himmlische Blumendiifte, nein, als sey Mephistopheles erschienen,
und habe den Vorschmack der Holle - Siindenpfuhl und Schwefeldampf, verbreitet.'9
Although this odorous staging of the dream vision was evidently more in tune
with Faust than Egmont, one must appreciate both the obvious successes in cos-
tuming, colouring, meaningful blocking, and stage arrangement, and the gen-
eral sense that the text delivers potential for the stage rather than a precise
blueprint for purely verbal reenactment. This is a highly unusual passage among
critiques at the time. The reviewer is constructive in suggesting that even more
attention to sets and props will improve the production further, which is a very
long way from the frequent complaints that the original text was cut or man-
gled, or that the actors failed to deliver their parts the way the master intended.
The sense shown here of the importance of harmonious staging and visual ef-
fects points directly to Goethe's own theatre aesthetics in Weimar.
Most of the Frankfurt reviews give considerable attention to individual ac-
tors' performances, as was the case in other venues. They run the gamut from
full praise of favourite company stars, such as Johann Heinrich Christian Lud-
wig Becker (1764-1822), or guests such as Ferdinand Lowe (1787-1832) from
Mannheim, both as Egmont, to a thorough panning of the entire cast in the
words of Germany's first professional theatre critic: " 'Wir haben Schauspieler
aber keine Schauspielkunst.' Dies Lessingsche dictum mochten wir, von der
heutigen Darstellung redend, umgekehrt anwenden. Wer unter den Leistungen
unserer Schauspieler eine Kunstschopfung zu finden wahnte, irrte sich grausam;
leset den Egmont lieber noch einmal in den alten Ausgaben durch, lasset euch
von eurer Phantasie ein Ideal cures Helden malen - aber euer Geld sparet fur
die Sieben Madchen in Uniform."60 Despite the sarcasm of the reviewer, it is an
interesting thought from our perspective that the German stage now did have a
"Schauspielkunst" — a formal, recognized methodology for actors, but nobody
with enough talent to put it into force. Had some German dramatic writers,
Goethe among them, by now outdistanced the actors who were trying to per-
form their plays? The comment is also interesting in its reference to "den alten
Ausgaben," from which we see a definite historical distancing from the origins
of Egmont. Why the "old" editions? After all, new editions of Goethe's works
were appearing regularly, for example Cotta editions of Goethe's Werke in 1807
and 1816. This betrays the reviewer's categorizing of Egmont and its author as a
play and a poet of a previous generation — Goethe for him was dead even before
1832.
Frankfurt reviewers occasionally go into detail about acting technique. A
lengthy critique in 1828 spends most of its several pages on this, yet laments the
actors' inclination, "das fur declamatorische Effecte allzu empfangliche Publi-
cum durch falsche Mittel zum Applaus zu reizen."6' "Hamming it up" was still
very much a part of performance, but the freedom to interpret the role had its
positive side as well: "Als Alba, nachdem er Oraniens Brief gelesen, zu Ende des
folgenden Selbstgesprachs, an das Fenster tritt und Egmonts Ankunft verkiin-
det, fuhr Herr Rottmayer im Hintergrunde weilend, erschrocken zusammen
und gab damit sehr richtig seine Theilnahme an dem Geschick des ftirstlichen
Helden zu erkennen. Der Dichter hat diesen Zug nicht angedeutet, weshalb wir
ihn als Eigenthum des darstellenden Kunstlers und als begriindet in dem sich
spater ganz enthiillenden Charakter Ferdinands, anerkennen und riihmen."61
This is a rare glimpse of the idea that actors could indeed enhance and improve
upon the text delivered to their hands, and it suggests at least in this case less
tension between the text and the reality of performance. Almost always, criti-
cism of actors was founded on observations such as this: "Herr Becker [in a
guest performance] gab den Egmont. Nun hat er uns zwar einen vorziiglichen
Egmont gegeben, allein den von Gothe ganz und gar nicht."63 Another rare ex-
ception to the prejudice that actors should render the roles only as Goethe in-
tended, comes from a Dresden review, where the critic writes: "Ich habe die
Behauptung gehort, der Charakter der Klarchen sei hier von dem groKen Dich-
ter verzeichnet, mit nichten! die Kiinstlerinn halte nur den Charakter fest."64 As
regards the performance of the lead role in Egmont, Iffland's original in Weimar
remained for many an actor and experienced critic the model. More than
twenty years after the event, in theatres far removed from either Weimar or Ber-
lin, where he achieved the pinnacle of his fame, Iffland's Egmont v/ss a yardstick,
and Bottigers account of it the evidence. Frankfurt was no exception to

this practice. "Wir miifiten uns sehr irren," writes a critic in 1821, "wenn nicht
Hr. Becker bei dem Studium seiner Rolle die Abhandlung, welche Bottiger iiber
Iffland's Darstellung des Egmont in Weimar mit scharf psychologischer Ausein-
andersetzung uns gegeben, zur Hand gehabt hat."65 We will have an opportu-
nity to look at that prototype more carefully when we consider the actors role
in greater detail in chapter 6.
Although the Frankfurt reviews pay a great deal of attention to costumes,
staging, and acting, the most striking aspect about them, and one which seems
to set them apart from those in other cities, is their exhaustive discussions of
Egmont as a work of literature. At least six of the reviews include essays of up to
twelve pages in length, extending over several consecutive issues of theatre jour-
nals, on the literary aesthetics of Egmont, on Goethe and Schiller, and on the
play's historical sources and significance. Many other reviews have shorter sec-
tions on the same themes.66 Despite their length, there is relatively little in these
essays to help us understand the nature of Egmont m relation to audiences of the
day. They are essays for literary scholars alone, forerunners of generations of
similarly minded critics, who are interested primarily in dramatic literature, not
in drama as theatre. They are the predecessors of the Germanists of the nine-
teenth century and the parents of many in our own. Occasionally, there is a re-
freshing aside, as in this interruption of a meticulous and gruesome account of
the historical facts of Egmont s capture and death:
Was sagen die Leser dazu, dafi wir sie mit Gewalt zu einem Schauspiel herangezogen ha-
ben, das der Dichter weise in eine vorbereitende, riihrende Erzahlung verbarg. Verdienen
wir nicht den Vorwurf, den wir jenen Criminalisten der Biihne oft machten, jetzt selbst?
Haben wir nicht eine Neugierde gereizt, welche den nackten Genufi am Grafilichsten,
eine Folterkammer des Gefuhls zum Gegenstande hat? - Wir hoffen, nein. Wir wollten
den Dichter in dem Portrait seines Helden bis auf die Spuren der letzten Morgenahnun-
gen verfolgen, um zu sehen, wo er verschonern und verschweigen durfte, wo nicht; und
wir wollen dieses noch naher, indem wir - ohne bei einem so interessanten Gegenstande
Ueberdrufi zu besorgen - das Portrait, das Schiller in dem Verlauf der niederlandischen
Geschichte mit so viel Besdmmtheit und MenschenkenntniE entwirft, ganz dem Leser
vor Augen stellen.67
This observer seems oblivious to the fact that "der nackte Genuf? am GraSlichs-
ten" and "eine Folterkammer des Gefuhls" are exactly the type of things that
many audiences like best.
The Frankfurt material shows best of all that by the end of Goethe's life,
Egmont and his works as a whole were suffering from a case of deja-vu, and at
the same time from what in recent times has been called "deja-lu," since for so
many critics Goethe's original text continued to be the main yardstick for evalu-
ation and thus to dominate performances. Perhaps one should even add "deja-
entendu," for audiences also seemed to take litde notice any more of
Beethoven's symphonic accompaniment: "Beethovens herrliche Musik hat hier
viele Verehrer: nur scheinen sie nicht heute gegenwartig gewesen zu sein, denn
in den Zwischenakten wurde dermaafien conversirt und gelarmt, als ob ein
gewohnlicher Entreact heruntergearbeitet werde."68 The sense of "deja-vu/lu/
entendu" was so much the case that we begin to read at the beginning
of reviews statements like: "Den fruheren mitgetheilten Ansichten iiber dies
Gothe'sche Trauerspiel, so wie iiber dessen Auffiihrung auf hiesiger Biihne,
haben wir fur heute nichts hinzufugen"; or: "Von dem Stiicke selbst hier wie-
derholt zu reden, wiirde ein wenig zu spat kommen. Wer las es nicht, wer sari es
nicht!" or: "Es ist liber dieses herrliche Erzeugnifi der Muse unsers Go the schon
so viel gesagt und geschrieben worden, da8 sich wohl nicht leicht etwas Neues
hinzufugen liefie."69 Such opening statements, of course, did not prevent any of
these critics from going on at considerable length about Egmont and Goethe in
general. Finally, by 1831, we have an outright admission that everyone in Frank-
furt is tired of the thing: "Egmont ... ist zwar ein herrliches Werk, aber wir
haben es hier schon zu oft gesehen und der Mensch gewohnt sich auch an das
Schonste bis zur Gleichgiiltigkeit."70 Already a year earlier another reviewer had
pointed out that "das Haus sehr leer war."71 What reviewers almost never failed
to call a classic by Germany's "greatest" poet had become tired and dull, a piece
incapable of drawing a crowd.
This theatrical dead end cannot be left without a brief aside in the form of
what is in my view the most entertainingly enthusiastic review in the entire cor-
pus, also written near the end of Goethe's life. A reviewer in Braunschweig
writes:
Goethe's Genie rief mit aller Liebe dies Klarchen in's Leben, des Dichters Jugendtraum
erhielt Gestalt und die liebenswiirdigste, reinste Natur lachelt uns in ihr entgegen. Die
junge Friihlingsknospe, von dem Kusse der Liebe getroffen, offnet ihren Kelch und, alle
ihre Diifte umflattern, gleich kosenden Genien, den Geliebten. Und welch' ein Fonds
liegt im Innern soldi' einer reinen Natur! ... Coquetten und Ihr, die Ihr durch das Alter,
nicht durch die Weihe Jungfrauen genannt werdet und Ihr, die gegenseitiges Interesse zu
Frauen gemacht, die Ihr den Goethe kritisirt, well es Mode est, die Ihr Euch bei dem Le-
sen des "Egmont" zu einer Begeisterung forcirt, die Eurem Innern fremd, konnt Ihr die
unbegrenzte Welt der Liebe mit Eurem Gefiihle umfassen, die in Klarchens Worten liegt,
mit denen sie dem Vorwurf der Mutter begegnet ... Lebte dieses Madchen in der Wirk-
lichkeit, Ihr wiirdet sie eine Dime schelten, doch das ist ein Gliick des Kiinstlers, daE Ihr
von den Bluthen seiner Weihestunden den Staub nicht wegblasen konnt, und dafi Ihr
dem Schonen huldigen miifit, weil doch der Schein Euch Alles gilt.72
Another critic responded the following day with "Lacheln Sie ... lacheln Sie
iiber den alten Knaben, der da zu schwarmen anfangt, wo er kritisiren soil."73
However we might laugh about the devotion of the first reviewer, he or she
reminds us that Goethe still had his loyal fans, even if they were decreasingly
among audience members and more often found in the ranks of aging critics.
In conclusion, what attracts and concerns these reviewers and the audiences of
which they were part, is evident from the things they chose to write about, the
historical reality which the public in Goethe's time saw in Egmont. They include
the effectiveness of the actors, the extratextual visual elements (costumes, scenic
groupings and sets), the various social relationships involved in the theatrical
experience (actor-audience, actor-critic, critic-critic, members of the audience
among themselves), and Goethe's image as a creative artist, along with his liter-
ary legacy. The next chapters will explore these points of emphasis further. On
the question of adaptation, it is clear that it is never simply a matter of Goethe's
or Schiller's version, but rather some practical and accommodating hybrid. In a
sense, one could say that Goethe's Egmont-was never performed in his lifetime, a
statement I will be able to expand to has never been performed\yy the end of this
book. This justifies our emphasis on the very flexible and ambiguous text repro-
duced in chapter 2. Text simply did not have primacy on the stage, the efficacy
of performance did. The public may have read along in some theatres and
clucked at the omissions and distortions, able of course to read them in the
splendidly lit house, but it was the actors and directors, and the censors as well,
who chose in the end what they would see and hear. These actors had egos
which transcended the text, causing them to ham and preen, often forgetting
their primary responsibility to represent the role to which they had been as-
signed. While most reviewers criticize the actors, few had the knowledge to go
into technical detail, despite the suggestion in the Frankfurt reviews that a tech-
nical standard called "Schauspielkunst" actually existed. Reviewers still plagued
actors with the demand that they act their roles as the master had intended, and
the critical applause for innovation of which we saw flashes in Frankfurt and
Dresden is sparse indeed. Many an audience was after all more interested in the
charm and allure of the stars, in Lowe's apparently enticing physique, for exam-
ple, than their artistic interpretation, much as Hollywood makes use of "sex sym-
bols" today. It is interesting also to read the comments on the sets, costumes,
and visual properties in many locations, especially Mannheim, Frankfurt/Main,
and Leipzig. Was Goethe's influence already apparent, or were these and other
like-minded theatres who strove for multidimensional, harmonious productions
on a path parallel to his in Weimar? Do we perhaps give Goethe more credit
than he deserves for the way he developed the harmony of theatrical production
there? Finally, the problem of the "classic" work by the "greatest poet" forces us
two centuries later to address the question of relevance for our time, in aes-
thetic, political, and practical terms. As Goethe had become an icon even before
his death, and both he and his works had begun to suffer from a syndrome of
"deja-vu/lu/entendu," it is curious to note that exactly the same problem has
permeated criticism in the last two decades of our own century. When will we
decide if we have had enough of Goethe and that his relevance has ceased? Not
yet, at least - which must say something for what his works still have to offer.
Although (with the exception of one example cited from Hamburg) none of the
Egmont reviews in the Fambach corpus has anything to say about the play's con-
temporary political relevance, this is exactly the point that is central for produc-
tions in Germany from 1970 to the present day, a matter I shall address in
chapter 9.
5 Text and Image
Text comes alive through theatrical performance. It is transformed into sounds

which must have meaning to an audience as it decodes them according to a fa-
miliar linguistic system and attaches referents or associations, some of which are
common to most, others shared by fewer, still others meaningful only to indi-
viduals. The playwright's process of text creation is the manipulation of this ref-
erential process to invoke both common and individual associations. Such
manipulation is most successful through direct, unpoetic language and well
known images, but the result of such extreme coding precision is a drastic limi-
tation of associations and facile theatre without lasting attraction. Indirect, po-
etically referential language on the other hand increases the range of associations
and produces a complexity which ensures a lasting audience for dramatic works
such as Egmont. The text of Egmont is dramatized history, with references to
events and actions, causes and effects, the relevance of which would have been
shared by contemporary audiences. They could have read about them in the
sources Goethe himself used, Emmanuel van Meteren's (1535—1612) HISTORIA,
Oder Eigentliche und wahrhaffie Beschreibung aller fiirnehmen Kriegshandel
(German edition, Arnheim 1604) and Famianus Strada (1572-1649), DE BELLO
BELGICO (1578); or in Schiller's own Geschichte des Abfalls der vereinigten Nieder-
lande von der Spanischen Regierung, published in the same year as Egmont(1788).
Modern audiences can turn to these or to a host of more recent historical treat-
ments, such as John Motley's The Rise of the Dutch Republic. A History (1900) or
the materials included in Max von Briick's edition of the play (1969). But de-
spite many real connections to the historical facts, Goethe's play is in the end a
dramatic fiction on an historical base. So, from the rational, causal, historical
base there emerges a patchwork of images whose purpose is not to depict
149 Text and Image
history, but to stimulate other, less precisely understandable, associations in the

audience's mind. This chapter will explore some of the more important types of
images in the text of Egmont and the role they play in defining and depicting
the characters. There are first of all literary images, metaphors, which I shall ex-
amine as "Image in Text." Then, under "Character Framing," I shall explore
how characters as multifacetted units become part of a different type of image
that supersedes the purely literary and crystallizes in the "Image as Icon." This
is further expanded in "Scene Framing" to consider how images connect in
dramatic sequence yet retain a visual base as their unifying component. Finally,
I shall look closely at what has always been the most controversial image of this
play, the "Vision" of Klarchen at the end.
I M A G E I N TEXT 1
The rich variety of images in Egmont's text has two points of focus, war and na-
ture. Buyk's graphic description of the Lowlands' history sets off the first associ-
ations:
Gravelingen! Freunde! da gieng's frisch! Den Sieg haben wir allein. Brannten und seng-
ten die walschen Hunde nicht dutch ganz Flandern? Aber ich meyne, wir trafen sie! Ihre
alten handfesten Kerle hielten lange wieder, und wir drangten und schossen und hieben,
da sie die Mauler verzerrten und ihre [17] Linien zuckten. ... Da ging's! Rick! Rack! her-
iiber, hiniiber! Alles todtgeschlagen, alles ins Wasser gesprengt. Und die Kerle ersoffen
wie sie das Wasser schmeckten; ... Was nun noch durchbrach, schlugen Euch auf der
Flucht die Bauerweiber mit Hacken und Mistgabeln codt.
Despite Buyk's patriotism and jubilation in victory, what remains foremost in our
minds are the hacked bodies, the drowning masses, the vicious pitchfork pursuit,
and the overall glorification of slaughter. The image of man is a savage, and Jetter
speaks for many who are shocked into doubting the value of such triumph:
Krieg! Krieg! Wi(?t ihr auch, was Ihr ruft? Dal? es euch leicht vom Munde geht, ist wohl
natiirlich; wie lumpig aber unser einem dabey zu Muthe ist, kann ich nicht sagen. Das
ganze Jahr das Getrommel zu horen; und nidus zu horen, als wie da ein Haufen gezogen
kommt, und da ein anderer, wie sie tiber einen Hugel kamen, und [28] bey einer Miihle
hielten, wie viel da geblieben sind, wie viel dort, und wie sie sich drangen, und einer
gewinnt, der andere verliert, ohne daf? man sein' Tage begreift, wer was gewinnt oder
verliert. Wie eine Stadt eingenommen wird, die Burger ermordet werden, und wie's den
armen Weibern, und unschuldigen Kindern ergeht. Das ist eine Noth und Angst, man
denkt jeden Augenblick: "Da kommen sie! es geht uns auch so."2
This is the horrible reality behind Buyk's cry of victory, a repetitive senselessness
that only serves to create an atmosphere of apprehension and fear, an atmosphere
that afflicts all the characters in the play and sets the tone to the end. Most im-
portantly it underlies Egmont's character, as we see early on in his conversation
with Oranien:
Denk' an die Stadte, die Edeln, das Volck, an die Handlung, [103] den Feldbau, die Ge-
werbe! und denke die Verwustung, den Mord! - Ruhig sieht der Soldat wohl im Felde
seinen Kameraden neben sich niederfallen; aber den Flufi herunter werden dir die Lei-
chen der Biirger, der Kinder, der Jungfrauen entgegen schwimmen, daf? du mit Entset-
zen da stehst, und nicht mehr weifit, wessen Sache du vertheidigst; da die zu Grunde
gehen, fur deren Freyheit du die Waffen ergreifst.
Egmont uses the same images as Buyk, but combines them with the insight of
Jetter. Central to both are the river's waters, which carry a timeless symbolic
connotation as life's regenerating force, but also the classical association with the
Styx's division between life and death. This central natural image is grotesquely
combined with that of man as his victims' corpses choke the river's flow. I am
reminded of Gryphius's powerful scene of cataclysm a century earlier:
Hier durch die schantz und Stadt/rint alzeit frisches blutt.

Dreymall sindt schon sechs jahr als unser strome flutt
Von so viel leichen schwer/sich langsam fortgedrungen.
("Threnen des Vatterlandes/Anno 1636," i, 48)
These speeches were also a challenge for actors to deliver, as this Hamburg re-
viewer's complaint shows: "Zum Schlufi erinnern wir nur, dafi die treffliche
Schilderung, welche Egmont zu Oranien von den Mordscenen des Kriegs ent-
wirft, wo eine verstandige, durch weise Mittel Wirkung erzeugende Declama-
tion so schon sich bewahren kann, nur alltaglich, ohne Steigerung der Stimme
und der Gemiithsbewegung vorgetragen wurde und darum fast alien ihren
Werth verier."3 In contrast, a Frankfurt critic quotes almost the entire speech in
his glowing review of the performance by "Becker" (presumably Johann Hein-
rich Christian Ludwig Becker, 1764—1822): "Bedeutungsvoll, ernst und nicht
mit jener alltaglichen Steigerung auf der bekannten Tonleiter theatralischer
Declamation, sprach unser werther Gast die Worte."4
The text of Egmont at the start is so indelibly imprinted with this image of
war that it underlies every action and reaction of the occupying forces and the
citizens later on. Deserted streets are populated silently by eerie ghosts from the
river and the entire city becomes a deserted battlefield: "Die Stadt sieht einem
Felde ahnlich, wenn das Gewitter von weitem leuchtet; man erblickt keinen Vo-
gel, kein Thier, als das eilend nach einem Schutzorte schlupft" [Ferdinand, 194].
Humans are linked to the natural world by taking on the character of animals,
both in dieir savagery and in their fundamental need for protection. The image
of war becomes a metaphor for human existence and human nature, a dark,
151 Text and Image
threatening force which undermines its own needs and violates its very self.
Many times the link between human events and the rhythm of the universe is
underscored, as in Jetter's "Ich wittre den Geruch von einem Exekutionsmor-
gen; die Sonne will nicht hervor, die Nebel stinken" [118], signaling a pathetic
fallacy to accompany the action from this early point to the end. Egmont's de-
mise becomes an eclipse of nature — "Ihr Schicksal wird sie [das Volk] wie eine
wohl berechnete Sonnenfinsternif? piinktlich und schrecklich treffen," says Silva
[190] — an eclipse without end in which the night and the power of darkness
hold sway over the forces of light and life. The metaphorical transfer from im-
ages of war to images of nature expands the realm of associations in the play
from the purely historical to the timeless, so that the struggle of Egmont and his
people against Alba, Philipp n, and Spain becomes a metaphor for human
struggle and human predicament in may lands, in many ages. At this level, the
characters could be replaced by others, but the interrelated network of natural
images would have to remain.
Beyond the symbol of the river and the essential interplay between darkness
and light, two further natural images stand out, the tree and the horse, both of
which transcend the realm of metaphor to become symbols, that is, physically
precise images representing abstractions meaningful for the play as well as for hu-
man experience beyond it. When in the face of death Egmont fully comprehends
his situation, it is the tree that gives his reflections meaning: "Ich fuhl's, es ist der
Klang der Mordaxt, die sich der Wurzel meines Leibes naht. Ja sie iiberwindet,
die verratherische Gewalt. Sie untergrabt den festen hohen Stamm, und eh' die
Rinde dorrt, stiirzt krachend und zerschmettert deine Krone" [260]. The tree
symbolizes Egmont's life, and its fall, his death. It is also the death of their state as
the citizens have known it. The image has four parts, roots, stem, bark, and
crown. As the death blow is struck, the organism collapses, "eh! die Rinde dorrt,"
not with drying age, but in full bloom. The image is not of uprooting, but of vi-
olent decapitation, of blood-letting, of flowing sap — it is the spilling of blood
that "untergrabt den festen hohen Stamm," causing "die Krone," not the tree it-
self, to come crashing down.5 This savage hacking of a living body parallels the
images of war with which the play began, and now blood has become central,
blood flowing as life's spring, blood spurting wasted on the ground. As the tree's
sap oozes into the earth, so does Egmont's life-blood, and with it the blood of his
people, an atrophy of nature which Klarchen unwittingly foresees: "Heut steht
die Welt auf einmal still; es stockt ihr Kreislauf" [252].
Long before Egmont's realization of his fate, Alba sees the likely outcome of
their confrontation. Hearing his visitor arrive, he wonders aloud: "Trug dich
dein Pferdt so leicht herein, und scheute vor dem Blutgeruche nicht, und
vor dem Geiste mit dem blanken Schwert, der an der Pforte dich empfangt?
- Steig ab! - So bist du mit dem einen Fufi im Grabe und so mit beyden! - J
streichl' es nur, und klopfe fur seinen muthigen Dienst zum letzten mal den
Nacken ihm" [203]. Alba associates the motif of blood with Egmont through
his horse, half expecting the animal's instinct to protect its rider from the spec-
tre of the executioner and the impending release of blood through his sword.
Sardonically, he savours the animal's failure, nature's failure, to rescue Egmont,
wondering at Egmont's gratitude to the creature who has unwittingly betrayed
him. The horse conveys Egmont to his death, and thus symbolizes a cata-
strophic failure of nature to protect him. We recall Egmont's early conversation
with Richard in which he makes this curious mythological reference: " Wie von
unsichtbaren Geistern zerpeitscht, gehen die Sonnenpferdte der Zeit mit un-
sers Schicksals leichten Wagen durch; und uns bleibt nichts, als muthig gefafit,
die Ziigel fest zu halten, und bald rechts bald links, vom Steine hier, [81] vom
Sturze da, die Rader wegzulenken." The image evoked is the myth of Phaeton,
son of the sun god Helios, who foolishly insisted on driving the sun chariot
and thereby nearly brought catastrophe on the earth. Such in the end is
Egmont's own steed as he carries his rider to death at the hands of forces be-
yond his control.6
Horses are prominent diroughout the play, and Egmont repeatedly associated
with them. In battle, "Da ward Egmont das Pferdt unter dem Leibe nieder-
geschossen," says Buyk, "und wir stritten lange hiniiber, heriiber, Mann fur
Mann, Pferdt gegen Pferdt" [17]. Egmont, in times of peace spends, "Den gan-
zen Tag von einem Pferdt aufs andere [Silva, 191]," and Ferdinand's admiring
impressions began when Egmont came "mit einigen auf den Markt [196] gerit-
ten; wir griifiten uns; er hatte ein rohes Pferdt, daS ich ihm loben mufite. 'Lafit
uns eilen, Pferdte zuzureiten; wir werden sie bald brauchen!' rief er mir entge-
gen" — a call that results in Egmont's offer of the horse to Ferdinand soon after
[220]. In the final act, Klarchen describes Egmont's grand entries on horseback
before the people of the town, scenes which never failed to bring daily activities
to a standstill as the townfolk rushed to greet their hero: "wenn der Ruf ihn
ankiindigte, wenn es hiefi: 'Egmont kommt! Er kommt von Gent!' Da hielten
die Bewohner der StraKen sich gliicklich, durch die er reiten mufite. Und wenn
ihr seine Pferde schallen hortet, warf jeder seine Arbeit hin, und iiber die
bekummerten Gesichter, die Ihr [233] durchs Fenster stecktet, fuhr wie ein Son-
nenstrahl von seinem Angesichte ein Blick der Freude und Hoffnung."
Clearly, the image of the horse is multidimensional. It is associated with
knighthood and valour. It is also a connection between the man and the people,
between the man and his surrogate son, and between the man and the natural
forces of nature. As a result of Egmont's love of this animal and the peoples
identification of him with it, the horse also becomes the play's most bitter im-
age. Those who rushed to cheer his grand entrances, who dropped their work
and hoisted their children aloft, desert him in the end. The son who was ready
to turn his back on a brutal father betrays Egmont and rejoins the dark circle. In
the fateful visit to Alba, the horse's natural instincts fail to warn Egmont of the
blood-letting to come, delivering its rider to the executioner. Egmont's early
allusion to Phaeton is completed by Alba's clear perception of the forces in
control: "Ich sehe Geister vor mir, die still und sinnend auf schwarzen Schalen
153 Text and Image
das Geschick der Fiirsten und vieler Tausenden wagen. Langsam wankt das
Ziinglein auf, und, tief scheinen die Richter zu sinnen; zuletzt sinkt diese
Schale, steigt jene, angehaucht vom Eigensinn des Schicksals, und entschieden
ist's" [194]. From diis point on, Egmont cannot be saved. Phaetons chariot has
been turned by the spirits surrounding it, and the horse follows their call, not
the way of its master.7
CHARACTER FRAMING
Awaiting Egmont's arrival, Alba reflects:
Ist's rathlich, die andern zu fangen, wenn Er mir entgeht? - Schieb' ich es auf, und laE
Egmont mit den Seinigen, mit so [203] vielen entschlupfen, die nun, vielleicht nur heute
noch in meinen Handen sind. So zwirtgt dich das Geschick derm auch, du Unbezwingli-
cher. Wie lange gedacht! wie wohl bereitet! wie grofi, wie schon der Plan! Wie nah die
HofFnung ihrem Ziele! Und nun im Augenblick des Entscheidens bist du zwischen zwey
Ubel gestellt, wie in einen Loostopf greifst du in die dunkle Zukunft; was du fafiest ist
noch zugerollt, dir unbewufit, seys TrefFer oder Fehler! Er wird aufmerksam, wie einer, der
etwas ban, und tritt aw Fenster. Er ist es! - Egmont!
Albas soliloquy shows a man in dialogue. He is first interrogator and respondent

with the question and supposition - "Ist's rathlich ... Schieb' ich es auf," - then
abandons die rhetorical framework of the first person to analyse himself from an
external perspective: "So zwingt dich das Geschick denn auch, du Unbezwingli-
cher," the "ich" becoming "du," the "du" becoming the concretized "Un-
bezwinglicher." With the next sentence, this external perspective is broadened
through a suddenly sovereign overview: "Wie lange gedacht! ... wie schon der
Plan!" - after which the speaker returns to focus on himself, but now with an in-
creased objectivity and understanding. The "Loostopf" metaphor, the unwitting
grasping of what is simply "zugerollt," remains as the determinant of his action.
Like Egmont, Alba sees himself as a child of uncertainty who cannot fully control
the outcome of his plan. His soliloquy here is an example of creating more than
one framework of speech, of playing multiple roles, as Erving Goffman has de-
scribed it. There are four of them here: Alba the interrogator, the respondent, the
external commentator, and the sovereign observer, a series of frameworks in which
he sees himself, in other words a process of frame analysis (Goffman s term).
Albas self-analysis is symptomatic for the way in which characters see them-
selves in the play. Consider for example Brackenburg's desperate soliloquy:
Sie erkennt mich nicht mehr - ich erkenne mich selbst nicht mehr - aber von Ihr sollte
ich diesen Vorwurf nicht horen! - [146] Ungliicklicher! So wenig riihrt dich der Jammer
- die immer wachsende Noth deines Vaterlandes, und gleich ist dir Landsmann oder
Spanier, und wer regiert und wer recht hat? — War ich doch ein anderer Junge als
Schulknabe! - Wenn da ein Exerzitium aufgegeben war: "Brutus' Rede fur das Vater-
land! zur Obung der Redekunst"; dann war doch immer Fritz der Erste, und der Rektor
sagte: wenn's nur ordentlicher ware, mir nicht alles so iibereinander gestolpert. - damals
kocht es und [147] trieb.
The soliloquy follows a pattern like Albas, beginning with self-references in the
first person, changing to an objectivization of that person as "Unglucklicher,"
then moving to a process of recognition from without. Brackenburg is a man who
has lost his self-image: "ich erkenne mich selbst nicht mehr." He tries to recon-
struct this image by means of a tortured exercise in self-exploration. Unlike Alba,
who engaged an external metaphor, Brackenburg probes internally, like an early
Freudian analyst, exposing memories of childhood, recalling and focussing on a
scene of failure deep within, a scene diat boiled up in his subconscious - "damals
kocht es und trieb" - and has been seedling below die surface ever since.
The most important character framing is associated widi Egmont. Alba's so-
liloquy ends with the stage direction "Er wird aujmerksam, wie einer, der etwas
hort, und tritt ans Fenster. Er ist es! - Egmont!" Was Alba not "aufmerksam" be-
fore, we might ask? His attention before was turned inward; now it is caught by
an external image, and truly an image, for this his first view of Egmont is pre-
sented as physically framed by the window. The character of Egmont is framed
by more complicated mechanisms than those of others; it is framed both from
the perspective of others, as by Alba here, and by Egmont himself. Like Alba,
Klarchen frames him from without, but goes further: "Es ist keine falsche Ader
an ihm," she says, "er ist doch der grofie Egmont. Und wenn er zu mir kommt,
wie er so lieb ist, so gut! wie er mir seinen Stand, seine Tapferkeit gerne ver-
barge! wie er um mich besorgt ist! so nur Mensch, nur Freund und [158] Lieb-
ster." She sees two Egmonts, "der grofie Egmont," the public hero, and the
private Egmont, her friend and lover. Most important is the conscious distinc-
tion between the two, not just in Klarchen's mind but in Egmonts as well, and
the conscious splitting of images and playing of separate roles. This has its cli-
max in die famous scene with Klarchen at his knee:
Jener Egmont ist ein verdriefilicher kalter Egmont, der an sich halten, bald dieses bald
jenes Gesicht machen mufi; geplagt, verkannt, verwickelt ist, wenn ihn die Leute fur
froh und frohlich halten; geliebt von einem Volcke, dafi nicht weifi was es will; geehrt
und in die Hohe getragen, von einer Menge, mit der nichts anzufangen ist; umgeben
von Freunden, denen er sich nicht uberlassen darf; beobachtet [173] von Menschen, die
ihm auf alle Weise beykommen mogten; arbeitend und sich bemiihend, oft ohne Zweck,
meist ohne Lohn — o lafi mich schweigen, wie es dem ergeht, wie dem zu Muthe ist.
Aber dieser, Klarchen, der ist ruhig, offen, gliicklich, geliebt und gekannt, von dem
besten Herzen, das auch er ganz kennt und mit voller Liebe und Zutrauen an das seine
driickt. Er umarmt sie. Das ist dein Egmont!
Except for one brief parenthetical lapse ("o lafi mich schweigen"), Egmont
describes not himself but a character called Egmont, a third person analysis, as
155 Text and Image
removed from himself as if it came from another. Even more strikingly than
Alba and Brackenburg, he leaves his persona in order to conduct the process.
This is not self-reflection, but character analysis, and the relationship of that
character to the populace, personal friends, even to Klarchen. We see a spec-
trum of Egmont's acting of roles, a series of frame analyses of an Egmont who
consciously "bald dieses bald jenes Gesicht machen mu8," and while he now
wants to suppress the images of that public Egmont to let the private, single-fac-
etted Egmont emerge, this image remains fleeting and ephemeral indeed. The
private Egmont appears only once, briefly, only here, and thereafter disappears.
Despite what he claims of himself to Klarchen here, it is that Egmont - the
public Egmont of many faces - who dominates their relationship. At one point
during their meeting, Alba's surprised "Das muf? ich von dir horen?" is met
with Egmont's "Nicht meine Gesinnungen! Nur was [215] bald hier, bald da,
von Grofien und von Kleinen, Klugen und Thoren gesprochen, laut verbreitet
wird." In other words, in debate with Alba Egmont speaks not just for himself,
but for the entire populace. He has not one voice, he is multivoiced, and has
indeed been so empowered. In Silva's report to Alba on the citizens' mood, he
claims to have observed "Alle; den Egmont vor andern. Er ist der Einzige, der,
seit du hier bist, sein Betragen nicht geandert hat... Die andern haben dagegen
eine merckliche Pause in ihrer Lebensart gemacht; sie bleiben bey sich; vor
ihren Thiiren sieht's aus als wenn ein Kranker im Hause ware" [igof.]. Unlike
all the others, Egmont's habits have remained unchanged since the occupation
- they have not been formed by that event - they have remained consistent de-
spite it. Whatever he may claim in one quiet moment with Klarchen, the char-
acteristic Egmont is primarily public. He alone is not hidden away, he remains
connected with the people and voices the concerns of a broad social spectrum.
And indeed, Alba has not the slightest interest in the private Egmont; neither is
that Egmont important for the dramatic action and its outcome. Neither, in the
end, would a purely private Egmont be of interest to Klarchen.
Klarchen's description of Egmont's grand entrance into the city characterizes
her lasting image of him.8 She, too, is one of the adoring throng, as she recalls
their first meeting: "Wenn ich so nachdenke, wie es gegangen ist, weifi ichs
wohl, und weifi es [152] nicht. Und dann darf ich Egmont nur wieder ansehen,
wird mir alles sehr begreiflich. Ach, was ist's fiir ein Mann! alle Provinzen be-
then ihn an, und ich in seinem Arm sollte nicht das glucklichste Geschopf von
der Welt seyn?" Uncertain at first how they met - "dann darf ich Egmont nur
wieder ansehen, wird mir alles sehr begreiflich." Her attraction is based on his
physical image and his political one; the two are, in fact, inseparable, for the
very nature of Egmont's physical image is at the same time political, a coidenti-
fication encapsulated by Egmont's appearance before Klarchen as a Knight of
the Golden Fleece:9
Er wirft den Mantel ab und steht in einem prachtigen Kleide da.

[166] KLARCHEN. O je!
EGMONT. Nun hab' ich die Arme frey. Er herzt sie.

KLARCHEN. Lafit! Ihr verderbt Euch. Sie tritt zuriick. Wie prachtig! da darf ich Euch
nicht anriihren.
The scene carries an enormous visual impact. Egmont casts off his field cloak to
reveal a splendour of colour and decoration at which Klarchen can only gasp.
Her reaction is not to embrace him - quite the contrary - she wants to stand
back and luxuriate in this image, to protect it, not to spoil it, not even to touch
it. Egmont had long delayed fulfilling his promise to appear before her in this
costume — "Bist du zufrieden?" he asks, "Ich versprach dir, einmal spanisch zu
kommen" — for in doing so he is acknowledging that it is this Egmont that
forms the basis of her attraction. The costume, as he says, is "spanisch," and
around his neck hangs the chain of the Golden Fleece. "Ach und das goldne
Vliefi!" exclaims Klarchen, "Das hat dir der Kayser umgehangt?"
EGMONT. Ja, Kind! und Kette und Zeichen geben dem, der sie tragt, die edelsten Frey-
heiten. Ich erkenne auf Erden keinen Richter tiber meine Handlungen als den Grofimei-
ster des Ordens mit dem versammelten Kapitel der Ritter.
[168] KLARCHEN. O du diirftest die ganze Welt fiber dich richten lassen. - das Zeug 1st
gar zu herrlich, und die Passement=Arbeit! und das Reiche — Man weifi nicht, wo man
anfangen soil.
EGMONT. Sieh dich nur satt.
Egmont attempts to turn attention from himself as spectacle to the meaning

behind and beyond his attire, and in doing so draws a straight line to some es-
sential elements of modern performance theory. Klarchen is engrossed in per-
formance, the pure enjoyment of the splendid vision before her. Egmont, on the
other hand, tries to steer her to the referential significance of the vision, but his
allusion to the abstract notions of freedom and justice are met with her intensi-
fied scrutiny of his glorious appearance. Lofty ideals are swept aside as she re-
mains on the level of a fashion show in which details of the splendid garment,
the "Passement=Arbeit ... das Reiche," are savoured. Klarchen shows no sense
of the dark irony that this costume is "spanisch," nor that the ideals it represents
have been trodden down. When she finally speaks of the Golden Fleece, she
shows no sign of understanding its significance, trivializing it instead through a
banal comparison with their attachment:
KLARCHEN. Und das goldne Vliefi! Ihr erzahltet mir die Geschichte und sagtet: es sey
ein Zeichen alles Grofien und Kostbaren, was man mit Miih und Fleif? verdient und er-
wirbt. Es ist sehr [169] kostbar - Ich kanns deiner Liebe vergleichen - Ich trage sie eben
so am Herzen —
We should remember that this scene is in fact at the structural centre of the play.10
157 Text and Image
IMAGE AS ICON
In Act I of Goethe's version, Klarchen has this exchange with her mother, which
Schiller excised:
MUTTER. Nimm dich in Acht! Dein heftiges Wesen verdirbt noch alles; du verrathst dich
offenbar vor den Leucen. Wie neulich bei dem Vetter, wie du den Holzschnitt und die
Beschreibung fandst und mit einem Schrei riefst: Graf Egmont! - Ich ward feuerroth.
CLARE. Halt' ich nicht schreien sollen? Es war die Schlacht bei Gravelingen, und ich
finde oben im Bilde den Buchstaben C. und suche unten in der Beschreibung C. Steht
da: "Graf Egmont, dem das Pferd unter dem Leibe todt geschossen wird." Mich iiber-
liePs — und hernach mufit' ich lachen iiber den holzgeschnitzten Egmont, der so grofi
war als der Thurm von Gravelingen gleich dabei, und die englischen Schiffe an der Seite.
- Wenn ich mich manchmal erinnere, wie ich mir sonst eine Schlacht vorgestellt, und
was ich mir als Madchen fur ein Bild vom Grafen Egmont machte, wenn sie von ihm
erzahlten, und von alien Grafen und Fiirsten - und wie mir's jetzt ist! (WAi, 8,198-9.)
The revealing speech has to my knowledge never been thoroughly discussed in

Egmont criticism, though many studies refer briefly to it, as do most critical
editions in a note pointing out the obvious, that Klarchen is likely referring to
a sixteenth-century woodcut of the Battle of Gravelines and Egmont's role in it,
locating his figure by the letter C according to the woodcut's key. Heinrich
Diintzer was probably the first to give attention to the scene: "Am Schlusse
[des Gesprachs zwischen Klarchen und ihrer Mutter iiber Brackenburg] deutet
Goethe auf einen Holzschnitt der Schlacht von Gravelingen ... Holzschnitte
dieser Art waren sehr verbreitet. Wir haben uns diesen Holzschnitt wohl auf
einer 'Historic,' einer Geschichtserzahlung, wie sie Brackenburg auch Klarchen
mitbringt, zu denken" (61—2.). No later scholar to my knowledge has gone fur-
ther to determine if in fact such a woodcut existed then, or still does now.
This is the first public reference made by Klarchen to her lover. It is rooted in
a physical representation of him within an historical context. The Batde of
Gravelingen on 13 July 1558 remains a pivotal event in the course of Netherlan-
dic history, a victory with English allies over the French, an irrefutable valida-
tion of Egmont's status as national hero. The battle is described in all serious
histories of the Netherlands, for example, in Motley (i, 242-46), and in Hen-
ning KoS, who wrote from the perspective of a military historian and includes a
thorough critical survey of the contemporary sources (32—41), details of battle
tactics and strategy (122-49), Egmont's role (123-4, I4<>—8), and actual maps.
Egmont will forever remain in the minds of his countrymen the hero of this
battle and die saviour of his people, reckless in his courage, unflinching in his
purpose. In the woodcut Klarchen describes, his stature has even made him as
large as the tower of Gravelingen itself and the English fleet beside it, a pictorial
exaggeration signifying his superhuman nature. At first simply in awe of this
historical representation, upon reflection Klarchen is amused at the disparity

between its exaggeration — "was ich mir als Madchen fur ein Bild vom Grafen
Egmont machte" — and how she sees him now — "wie mir's jetzt ist!" The differ-
ence is between Egmont the icon and Egmont the lover, the same dichotomy
that Egmont described above after appearing in his Spanish costume.
In terms of semiotic performance analysis, a sign which closely approximates
the physical features of its referent is called an icon. Beyond the theatre, iconic
representation is best known as the religious representation of exemplary indi-
viduals through concrete visual depiction for purposes of adoration. For the
populace and Klarchen both, Egmont has these iconic qualities, and while they
are aware of the abstract principles for which the icon stands, they have lost
contact with them. The populace's adoration of their saviour never ceases, but
they now ignore dieir responsibility to devote themselves to his ideals. One
might go so far as to link the thought to the citizens' "Bildersturm" rampage,
when they, as Richard reported, "das Marienbild umgerissen haben" [68]. Their
replacement for the destroyed Catholic icon becomes Egmont himself, but
there remains only the adulation, without commitment to the ideals for which
the icon stands.11
Why did Schiller exclude this scene of the woodcut while keeping the one
with the Spanish costume? The answer may lie in the fact that the second is a
scene of action and performance, while the first is essentially a static reaction to
an image which the audience likely never sees. For Goethe the woodcut was im-
portant. He lodges his character depiction and the action in the visual world.
Schiller, on the other hand, casts much of that aside in favour of pure drama.
The inclusion or exclusion of the woodcut scene demonstrates an essential dif-
ference between the two.
Now to the intriguing question of the authenticity of the woodcut Klarchen
sees - did it exist and does it still exist today? In brief, I have found no trace of it
in modern major museums and collections. However, Modey refers to "the fitful
pencil of the national painter Wouvermans" (Philipp Wouvermans 1619—68) when
describing the Battle of Gravelinges, without reference to a specific work (i, 242-
3). Although he lived a century later, the Dutch artist Wouvermans could have
made a drawing of the action, but my search of his works has not led to such a
discovery. Goethe's own huge collection of art works offered clues, and as Jorn
Gores notes (67), his interest in Dutch painting preceded his much discussed at-
traction to the Italians. Schuchardt's extensive catalogue of Goethe's collections
includes under "Radierungen, Kupferstiche, Holzschnitte etc." 489 entries for
the Netherlands school alone (i, 146-94), including four by Wouvermans. Sev-
eral of these depict battles, fleets, heroic stances, and the like, some related to the
Egmont period, as Jakob Luykeris "Ermordung des Prinzen Oranien zu Delft im
Jahr 1584" and "Der Bildersturm in den Niederlanden im Jahr 1568" (#232,169).
Schuchardt lists Goethe's collection of "Handzeichnungen" separately, again a
huge list (n, #778-954), among which there are sixteen by Netherlanders, one by
159 Text and Image
Wouvermans, but none of Egmont; and further, many published collections of

drawings and paintings ("Galleriewerke und Sammlungen," I, 216-30), whose
individual pieces are not all listed or described. Despite the frustration of not
finding the actual Gravelingen scene, it is reasonable to conclude that the picture
to which Klarchen refers might have been an imagined compilation of several
pictures, allied thematically with this historical event. Other catalogues of major
collections confirm the suspicion that, if die picture Goethe had in mind was
one by Wouvermans, it could well have been a fictitious combination of several
originals. On Wouvermans' works in the Queen's collection, Christopher White
remarks: "There is no reason to doubt that the artist's battle-scenes are between
imaginary opponents; they do not, as has sometimes been suggested, represent
specific engagements" (152).u
SCENE FRAMING
Given the techniques of character framing used to define Alba, Brackenburg,

and Egmont, it should not surprise us that one of the most frequently men-
tioned objects in the text is the window. Ten times we are drawn to the window
through the dialogue, seven times by Klarchen. It is in fact through the window
that their relationship began, as she recalls to her mother: "Wenn Egmont
vorbeyritt und ich ans Fenster lief ... Tratet Ihr nicht selbst ans Fenster? ...
[i53f.] ... Habt Ihr mich nicht oft ans Fenster gehen sehen?" [159]- Her adora-
tion of the icon began through this frame and her relationship with him be-
come paradigmatic for that of the people. Like Klarchen, the citizens rushed to
their windows when Egmont arrived: "iiber die bekiirnmerten Gesichter, die Ihr
durchs Fenster stecktet, fuhr wie ein Sonnenstrahl von seinem Angesichte ein
Blick der Freude und Hoffnung ... [23z£] ... Aus diesen Fenstern haben sie
heraus gesehen, vier fiinf Kopfe iibereinander" [22jf.]. The rows of heads can-
not help but suggest spectators at a theatrical event. Alba, too, knows Egmont
through such a framework. Anxiously awaiting Egmont's arrival - "Er wird
aufmerksam, wie einer, der etwas hort, und tritt ans Fenster" — Alba reacts strongly
to what he sees: "Er ist es! - Egmont! ... In der Verblendung, wie hier Egmont
naht, kann er mir nicht zum zweyten mal sich liefern!" [204]. "In der Verblen-
dung" is a brilliant turn of phrase, setting Egmont's blindness to the events be-
fore him in cruel contrast to the clarity of his framing for public view.
The window catches other external images and objectifies them as well. In
contrast to the framing of Egmonts arrival and the citizens' joy, Klarchen sees
"indem sie ans Fenster tritt Was fur finstre, feierliche Gesichter! Mich iiberlaufts
kalt, wenn ich sie ansehe, und es regt sich auch nichts in den Strafien. Kein lusti-
ges Lied hort man mehr. Es ist alles wie ausgestorben" [140]. It is as if a canvas
had been transformed in its frame. Klarchen sees the same city, the same street,
but Egmont and the citizens are replaced by Alba's soldiers, the mood is altered,
the effect reversed, a reflection of real events and their consequences, and also of
Klarchen's mind. Immediately after learning that Egmont is captured, Klarchen

returns to the window: "Klarchen allein. Kommt mit einem Licht und einem Glas
Wasser aus der Rammer: sie setzt das Glas auf den Tisch und tritt ans Fenster.
Brackenburg, seyd Ihrs? Was hort ich denn? noch niemand? Es war niemand!
Ich will das Licht ins Fenster setzen, daf? er sieht, ich wache noch, ich warte
noch auf ihn" [241]. She waits in pathetic futility for Egmont to appear in the
frame once again, but for her the images of life outside are at an end. It is night.
There is no light beyond the window, no scene of life remaining, no one to see
her flame outside. Instead, it shines inward, as her own mind gives way to des-
peration.
A visual climax comes moments after, as Brackenburg describes what he has
seen:
Ich schlich durch Seitenwege, durch bekannte Gange nach meines Vettern Hause, und
sah aus einem Hinterfenster nach dem Markte — Es wehten Fackeln in einem weiten
Kreise spanischer Soldaten, hin und wieder. Ich scharfte mein ungewohntes Auge, und
aus der Nacht stieg mir ein schwarzes Geriist entgegen, geraumig, hoch; mir graufite vor
dem Anblick. Geschaftig waren viele rings umher bemiiht, was noch von Holzwerk weifi
und sichtbar war, mit schwarzem Tuch einhiillend zu verkleiden. Die Treppen deckten
sie zuletzt auch schwarz, ich sah es wohl. Sie schienen die Weyhe eines grafilichen Opfers
zu begehen. Ein weifies Kruzifix, das durch die Nacht wie Silber blickte, ward an der
einen Seite hoch aufgesteckt. Ich sah, und sah die schreckliche Gewifiheit immer gewis-
ser. Noch wanckten Fackeln hie und da herum; allmahlich wichen sie und erloschen. Auf
einmal war die scheufiliche Geburt der Nacht in ihrer Mutter SchooB zuriickgekehrt.
[147-9, italics mine]
His description is deliberately linked to the window motif, even though it could
obviously have been introduced from many vantage points, and it is not only a
different window from Klarchen's, it is specifically a "Hinterfenster," connoting
not openness and light but darkness, secrecy, and stealth. It frames a competely
different type of image, a moving image, it is more than a "fiirchterliches
Schauspiel" [246], as Brackenburg puts it, it is a series of moving images more
akin to the screen than a canvas or the stage, an image with the quality of a
flickering film. Brackenburg sees first the soldiers' torches illuminating the set,
and a striking metaphor prepares us for what follows. "Ich scharfte mein unge-
wohntes Auge," - like a camera adjusting to the gloom - and then, remarkably,
the image comes to life and "stieg mir entgegen aus der Nacht." He recoils at
the scaffold's monstrous approach - "mir graufite vor dem Anblick" - widens
his lens to take in die entire scene of the unnamed, menacing "viele" shrouding
the scaffold in darkness. "Ich sah es wohl," he says, as if the scene had a super-
natural quality which he does not expect us to believe, and it assumes the gro-
tesque connotation of a black altar for the "Weyhe eines grafilichen Opfers."
Again the personification comes toward him, the white cross "blickte," flickered
161 Text and Image
"wie Silber" through the blackness of night. Repeatedly he reinforces the scene's
incredible reality - "Ich sah, und sah," the clarity of the image becoming "im-
mer gewisser." Finally, the view fades out again - "Noch wanckten Fackeln hie
und da herum; allmahlich wichen sie und erloschen" - and the lens closes: "Auf
einmal war die scheufiliche Geburt der Nacht in ihrer Mutter Schoofi zuriick-
gekehrt." Darkness returns as the nightmare crawls back like a gruesome fetus
into the womb of night. Imagine what a filmmaker like Steven Spielberg would
do with this! Lest one be accused of mawkishness, I underscore the fact that this
grotesque scene is entirely Goethe's (WA i, 8, 286-7) and was taken over directly
by Schiller for the adaptation - an interesting point, considering his omission of
the Klarchen woodcut a scene earlier, but then this one has much more emo-
tional power. With passages such as this in mind, Goethe's professed distaste for
Schiller's sensationalism sounds ingenuous. Perhaps he was a Spielberg before
his time.
Brackenburg's description is undoubtedly a visual pivot of the play. Immedi-
ately afterward, Klarchen produces her vial of poison and cannot be deterred
from suicide by his "Du bist betaubt; gehullt in Nacht ... Noch ist nicht jedes
Licht erloschen, noch mancher Tag!" [254]. There is no more light for
Klarchen; instead, her reaction is this final return to the window:
Grausam zerreifit du den Vorhang vor meinem Auge; Ja, er wird grauen, der Tag! verge-
bens alle Nebel um sich ziehen und wider Willen grauen! Furchtsam schaut der Burger
aus seinem Fenster, die Nacht lafit einen schwarzen Flecken zuriick; er schaut, und
fiirchterlich wachst im Licht das Mordgeriiste. Die Sonne macht sich nicht hervor; sie
will die Stunde nicht bezeichnen, in der er sterben soil. Trage gehn die Zeiger ihren Weg,
und eine Stunde nach der andern schlagt. Halt! halt! nun ist es Zeit! mich scheucht des
Morgens Ahndung in das Grab.
Sie tritt ans Fenster, als sahe sie sich um, und trinckt heimlich. [254—5]
If Brackenburg s nightmarish scenario can be compared with film, Klarchen's is

surely theatre, complete with an opening "Vorhang." The curtain torn open be-
fore her eyes reveals a stage with a horrible reality she had not before perceived.
Light is absent - "Die Sonne macht sich nicht hervor" - replaced by gray as the
night holds sway. The citizen who had rejoiced at Egmont's splendour now
"schaut furchtsam aus seinem Fenster ... er schaut, und fiirchterlich wachst im
Licht das Mordgeriiste." The scene is reversed, from the joy and optimism of
greeting their hero, to dread, as the monster that moved toward Brackenburg
now comes to life before their eyes and "wachst im Licht" as well. It is in the
end the overwhelming horror of this image for Klarchen that "scheucht mich in
das Grab," and it is significant that just as she immediately turned to the win-
dow on hearing of Egmont's capture, for the act that ends her life she returns to
the window again, the last reference to it in die play. She has been identified
with the window and the reality seen through it from the start. That reality had
been a fiction, an idealized image of Egmont, which has now been over-
whelmed by that of the scaffold. Her first reaction to the certainty of his capture
was confusion, a gradual loss of her grip on reality and a lapse into desperation.
Her ultimate decision in the face of the scaffold's inevitable horror is to escape
that reality by suicide. As she approaches the window for the last time, she
looks around, "als sahe sie sich urn," before taking the poison. "Als sahe sie sich
um" - ? Where does she look? What is she looking for? What does she see?
(The words are Goethe's, WA i, 8, 190.) What mime would an actress play at
this point? These are questions that have no certain answers. Perhaps the uncer-
tainty of "als sahe" provides the key - Klarchen is somehow precariously bal-
anced between looking and not looking, seeing and not seeing, hovering
between what is outside and what is within, between the reality of two different
worlds. The positioning of Klarchen's final act, which forever erases both the
glory and the horror of worldly images, is an unmistakeable sign of the win-
dows importance for understanding the play.1'
VISION
All that has been said so far in this chapter has to do with vision in the sense of
physical sight. Images of war, catastrophe, blood, trees, horses, glorious cos-
tumes, moving images seen through windows, they are all caught first by the eye
before expanding into metaphors. Schiller's adaptation of Egmont produced two
main objections from Goethe: the hooded Alba, as discussed in chapter 3, and
his omission of the vision of Klarchen, which he soon reintroduced. But to say
that Schiller simply omitted the vision scene, which he called a "Salto mortale
in eine Opernwelt" (Werke, Nationalausgabe, xxn, 208), is misleading and
points to a fundamental difference between the theatrical and aesthetic posi-
tions of the two playwrights. Schiller did not simply eliminate the scene of
Klarchen as a vision, he transformed it into a mimed dream. He took it out of
the hands of the scenic designer and placed it into the language of the actor.
Unlike Goethe's concept, the effectiveness of the scene for Schiller depended en-
tirely on that actor's talent. The scene in his adaptation is as follows:
Er entschlaft: die Musik vom Orchester begleitet seinen Schlummer, und wird zuletzt vom
kriegerischen Spiel hinter der Szene unterbrochen. Von dent Getofie der Trommeln erwacht
Egmont, greift nach dem Haupte, richtetsich in die H'ohe, undscheint, sich mitMiihezu be-
sinnen. Endlich steht er auf; die Musik schweigt; er kommt vorwdrts.
Verschwunden 1st der Kranz - ein Traum hat mich getauscht! Bin paradiesisch schoner
Traum! — Ich sahe [195] sie — zu mir herunter stieg ein gottliches Bild — es kam von oben
— doch hatt' es alle Ziige meiner Klara. — Sie schwang die Siegespalme14 mir entgegen —
zeigte mir von fern ein frohlich Volck zum lauten Ufer wimmelnd und Segel zahlenlos
163 Text and Image
im Winde flatternd; und driickte leise mir den Lorbeer auf das Haupt. - Es war mein
Klarchen, war mein Vaterland. Zusammen in ein Bildnifi flofien sie, die beyden schon-
sten Freuden meines Herzens. In einem ernsten Augenblick erschienen sie vereinigt, ern-
ster noch als lieblich. Mit Blut befleckten [296] Sohlen trat sie vor mir auf, des Kleides
Saum mit Blut befleckt. Es war mein Blut und vieler Edeln Blut. Nein, es war nicht um-
sonst vergossen - Schreitet durch! - braves Volck! Die Sieges Gflttin fuhrt dich an; Und
wie das Meer durch cure Damme bricht, so bricht, so reifit den Wall der Tyranney zu-
sammen, und schwemmt sie ersaufend von dem Grunde, den sie sich anmaafk weg.
We must pause to look at the stage direction above and ask ourselves what the
actor had to do, so that the subsequent speech could make sense to an audience.
It cannot make sense on its own to a reader, for no wreath has disappeared, no
dream, no vision - nothing has been seen at all. It only makes sense if the actor
has created a mime sequence during the stage direction to show that he has in-
deed witnessed a powerful vision, and as we will see in chapter 6 this is exactly
how Schiller wanted it done. Although Schiller shifted Goethe's physical vision
to the realm of the imagination, he nevertheless retained the same concept
for his conclusion through Egmont's account. After inserting die essentials of
Goethe's stage directions in the vision scene,15 he then included Egmont's reac-
tion exactly as Goethe had written it (WA I, 8, 304). This point must be
stressed, for the emphasis in critical literature on Schiller's omission of the vi-
sion often overlooks his replacement of it with a complicated mime sequence,
and can also leave the impression diat the text accompanying the mime was
something entirely new from Schiller's hand - which is not the case. What is
very different is the necessity for the actor to do something in conjunction widi
that portion of the text, so that the absent vision comes alive in the minds of die
audience. Schiller calls upon the actor's talent where Goedie relied on the set
designer.
The passage itself describes a transformation from the physical world to the
allegorical. The figure is no longer Klarchen, but first and foremost "ein
paradiesisch schoner Traum! ... ein Traum ... ein gottliches Bild ... mein
Vaterland ... Die Sieges Gottin," a conglomeration of abstractions and ideals
rather than reality. His description of the goddess, although she has "alle Ziige
meiner Klara," focusses not on personal attributes but on symbolic elements, on
the "Siegespalme," die "Lorbeer," and the "Blut" of Egmont and his people.
The "Bildnifi" has the quality of a painting, with the depdi and perspective of a
landscape - "von fern ein frohlich Volck zum lauten Ufer wimmelnd und Segel
zahlenlos im Winde flatternd" — the landscape itself becoming part of the alle-
gory it contains: "Und wie das Meer durch cure Damme bricht, so bricht, so
reiSt der Wall der Tyranney zusammen, und schwemmt sie ersaufend von dem
Grunde, den sie sich anmafit weg." We are well removed from the misery of
Egmont's cell, the horror of the scaffold outside, Klarchen's madness, the citi-
zens' fear and every other bit of realism contained in the play. This vision has
nothing at all to do with the inevitable outcome and consequences of the drama
as written by Goethe or adapted by Schiller. It is idealistic fantasy, a vision of re-
ality that the play simply does not lead us to conclude. When it comes to under-
standing the play's images, we are now on an entirely different level than before,
the level of ideals, and while Schiller felt quite at home here as well, the depic-
tion of ideals in concrete terms did not accord with his sense of theatre.
For Goethe, an understanding of the two dimensions of Klarchen, the real
and the allegorical, was essential. Soon after finishing the play he expressed his
frustration at a friends inability to make the connection between "Dime" and
"Gottin" and described his concept of her in terms of a "Begriff der Vollkom-
menheit" and a "Genufi des Unbegreiflichen" (3 Nov. 1787; WA i, 32, 136, pre-
sumably to Herder). His sense of theatre, in contrast to Schiller's, becomes even
more evident when we compare his stage direction describing die vision in con-
crete terms:
Hinter seinem Lager scheint sich die Mauer zu eroffhen, eine glanzende Encheinung zeigt
sich. Die Freiheit in himmlischem Gewande, von einer Klarheit umflossen, ruht auf einer
Wolke. Sie hat die Ztige von Clarchen, und neigt sich gegen den schlafenden Helden. Sie
driickt eine bedauernde Empfindung aus, sie scheint ihn zu beklagen. Baldfafit sie sich, und
mit aufmunternder Geberde zeigt sie ihm das Biindel Pfeile, dann den Stab mit dem Hute.
Sie heift ihnfroh sein, und indem sie ihm andeutet, daj? sein Tod den Provinzen die Freiheit
verschaffen werde, erkennt sie ihn als Sieger und reicht ihm einen Lorbeerkranz. Wie sie sich
mit dem Kranze dem Haupte nahet, macht Egmont eine Bewegung, wie einer der sich im
Schlafe regt, dergestalt, dafi er mit dem Gesicht aufiviirts gegen sie liegt. Sie halt den Kranz
uber seinem Haupte schwebend; man hort ganz von weitem eine kriegerische Musik
von Trommeln und Pfeifen: bei dem leisesten Laut derselben verschivindet die Erscheinung.
(WH i, 8,303-4.)
It is then that Egmont speaks the words "Verschwunden 1st der Kranz." In
Goethe's vision die separation between the reality of the preceding drama and
die supernatural allegory is much more pronounced than in Schiller. Physical laws
are suspended as the prison wall opens and die cloud appears. The vocabulary,
"glanzende Erscheinung ... himmlisches Gewande, von einer Klarheit umflos-
sen," points to an other-worldliness of abstraction, but as the allegory of free-
dom approaches it gains definition: "Freiheit." As in Schiller, the vision's
allegorical qualities supersede its likeness to Klarchen, acting out a symbolic
mime to show the liberation of the Netherlands through Egmont's martyrdom
and his moral victory. Again objects stand out, as in Schiller, the laurel wreath
of the victor, but here also "das Bundel Pfeile, dann den Stab mit dem Hute,"
which Schiller left out. On die whole, Goethe's allegory of freedom has a con-
creteness lacking in Schiller, so much so that one cannot help but think of its
emblematic qualities. Only a clear motto and explicatio are lacking. Yet as
Miller/Reinhardt point out, Egmont's verbal account of die vision in Goethe's
165 Text and Image
work does not accord entirely with what the audience has just seen. He speaks
of her "blutbefleckten Sohlen" of which there is no suggestion in the vision and
changes "gottliche Freiheit" to "Sieges Gottin." Such contradictions were not
part of Schiller's version since no vision was actually seen.
Goethe's image of "das Biindel Pfeile, dann den Stab mit dem Hute" is a
symbol of the Netherlands freedom fighters and recalls Egmont's early conversa-
tion with Richard and the days of his youth:
was wir an einem Abend im leichten [77] Ubermuth der Gefalligkeit und des Weins
getrieben und gesprochen; und was man daraus fur Folgen und Beweise durchs ganze
Konigreich gezogen und geschleppt habe - Nun gut! wir haben Schellenkappen, Narren-
kutten auf unsrer Diener Ermel stecken16 lassen, und haben diese tolle Zierde nachher in
ein Biindel Pfeile verwandelt; ein noch gefahrlicher Symbol fur alle, die deuten wollen,
wo nichts zu deuten ist. Wir haben diese und jene Thorheit in einem lustigen Augen-
blick angefangen [78] und gebohren, sind schuld, dafi eine ganze edle Schaar mit Bettel-
sacken und einem selbst gewahlten Unnahmen, dem Konige seine Pflicht mit spottender
Demuth ins Gedachtnis rief, sind schuld —
While annotated editions of Egmont usually give the historical background to

the symbol of the arrows as a provocation, neither they nor critical commentar-
ies are in the habit of linking their presence in the Klarchen vision to their first
mention in Act i (see for example the very good account of the historical back-
ground of the symbol and later unconnected mention of it in the vision in the
MA, in, i, 867/883). But that first mention was the real beginning of the action.
In youthful exuberance, an image was created to represent something smoulder-
ing beneath - "Ein noch gefahrlicher Symbol fur alle, die deuten wollen, wo
nichts zu deuten ist" - an image which indeed had great significance despite
Egmont's claim to the contrary. It gave birth to that political dissent which
brought the Spanish to their doors and for which by the end Egmont pays
dearly. By pointing to this symbol, the allegory of freedom unifies the vision
with the dramatic action in a way that Schiller's adapation fails to do. Still, as
the drums of war are heard, the vision can no longer survive and "verschwindet
bei dem leisesten Laut derselben." It remains an ideal, far from the political real-
ity of the play, and only in an aesthetic sense logical as a conclusion to the dra-
matic action. For Schiller, such an aesthetic imbalance was unacceptable, so he
diluted the vision as much as he could. For Goethe, it was not only acceptable,
it was absolutely necessary for what he wanted to convey in the play - not just
drama but the visual representation of his ideals. He thus insisted that his ver-
sion be reinserted in later performances. Despite its obvious dramatic incongru-
ence, the power of the vision itself was essential for Goethe's notion of aesthetics
on stage.
Critics ever since have debated the importance of the Klarchen vision scene,
beginning with Schiller's 1788 review and Ludwig Ferdinand Huber's comment
on Goethe's Schriften in the Jena Allgemeine Litemtur-Zeitung, where he called it

"eine Kiihnheit, iiber welche wir von dem Dichter selbst Rechenschaft zu er-
halten wiinschten, weil weder die Einbildungskraft, noch der Verstand, noch die
Illusion des Lesers oder des Zuschauers, ohne eine unmogliche Verwirrung der
Gefiihle und Begriffe, hinreichen, sie zu erklaren oder zu gestatten" (Nr. 294,
9 Nov. 1792; MA in, i, 851). Huber's equation of readers and audiences underes-
timated both; he was more concerned with theoretical aesthetics than unreflec-
tive human reaction. People are capable of such flights of idealistic imagination.
The tough-minded Madame de Stael rejected it as a "marchenhafte Losung"
and "in einem historischen Drama nicht am Platz" (De I'Allemagne, 1813; MA
in, i, 857). Borcherdt provides a useful commentary on the differences between
Schiller's and Goethe's theatre aesthetics, as exemplified in the scene (354-5), in-
cluding Schiller's comments in his review of 1788 and Bottiger's defence of it in
his book on Iffland. Heinrich Diintzer (1874), had serious doubts about the na-
ture and necessity of the vision (112), and the professional debate has continued
ever since. Emil Staiger (1952) used the terms "Kulissenzauber" and "seltsame
Ausflucht" (i, 291). East German, politically oriented scholars, such as Edith
Braemer (1960), saw the vision as necessary to signify the historical victory of
the people over their oppressors (1027). Jeffrey Sammons (1963) saw it as en-
tirely incongruous in terms of the preceding structure and thematic develop-
ment, observing that Schiller deleted it "in favour of declamation" (247). That
is simply not the case - Schiller deleted it, but in favour of mime, which is
something very different. Martin Swales (1971) insisted with some energy that
Schiller's mime of the vision is simply false for Goethe's meaning: "It is neces-
sary to the play that the vision operates on two distinct, but interconnected lev-
els. The vision must both be a dream that fills the mind of the sleeping Egmont,
and it must also confront us, the readers and audience, as a denotative, and in-
deed prophetic, image whose truth we recognize" (839). This makes sense, but
only in Goethe's terms. In Schiller's it does not, and we must remember that the
two had different theatrical purposes. Helmut Schanze provided a stimulating
discussion of the vision scene, also seeing the vision in terms of an allegory (87-
90). Benjamin Bennett (1979) saw it as "the transformation of the stage itself
into the interior of Egmont's mind ... an entirely natural and aesthetically nec-
essary ending" (121), but is it "entirely natural?" Hardly. Aesthetically necessary -
yes, but this aesthetic ending could be achieved either through a physical trans-
formation of the stage or through an imagined transformation in Egmont's
mind, as long as the audience can make the same imaginary journey, a far more
natural event than any sudden physical transformation. One might reiterate
that Schiller's extended pantomime of the dream is at the crux of understanding
the difference between him and Goethe, the playwright who placed the power
in the actor's hands as opposed to the one who gave sway to the visual imagery
of the stage production. John Ellis (1978) went so far as to suggest the vision's
affinity with the Christian resurrection (127-9). Volkmar Braunbehrens (1980)
167 Text and Image
understood it as a "Kunstprodukt" reflecting later political reality (21) and

the "Wunschphantasie" of the protagonist as emasculated daydreamer (28).
FJ. Lamport (1987—88) accepted the presence and logic of the vision but ob-
jected to Egmont's actions thereafter, when "Authentic charisma ... gives way to
role playing: Egmont's vision of himself as charismatic hero ... effectively sub-
verts Goethe's charismatic ideal" (69). The question obviously remained valid
even among pedagogical texts of the eighties, as in Wilhelm GroKe's school edi-
tion and suggestions for examination questions (1987): "Wiirden Sie als Regis-
seur bei einer Inszenierung des 'Egmont' auf die Traumszene am Ende des
Dramas verzichten?" (51) We will see in chapter 9 how modern directors have
answered. Dieter Borchmeyer (1994) related the dream vision to the ongoing
theme of the "Heilschlaf" in Goethe's dramas (504, 554), while Benedikt Holt-
bernd insisted that it is the music, not the vision, that renders the scene allegor-
ical: "Die Allegoric ist durch die Musik vermittelt, wodurch sie ihrem formalen
Ursprung nach zwar Allegoric bleibt, durch die Musik aber zur gelebten Wirk-
lichkeit wird" (149). The last word goes to the practical theatre man, Eugen
Kilian, who called the scene a "Rattenkonig von Schwierigkeiten" (204), pre-
senting technical and aesthetic problems. His professional desperation can only
make one smile: "Es gibt kein mifilicheres Stuck in dem gesamten Dekorations-
fundus eines Theaters als die 'Wolke.' Das Aetherische dieses Himmelsgebildes
steht in einem schreienden Gegensatze zu der massiven realen Theaterpappe,
durch die zarte Wolkengebilde in der Welt der Kulisse verkorpert werden. Und
nun gar eine weibliche Gestalt Von einer Klarheit umflossen' auf der Wolke
ruhend: ein Bild fur die Phantasie und allenfalls den Pinsel des bildenden Ktin-
stlers - aber bare Unmoglichkeit fur die Welt des Theaters!" (205). Goethe's cli-
max does indeed make us think more of painting than of theatre. His insistence
on its presence indicates strikingly his affinity to that medium even in his dra-
matic works. Kilian and others have related this to the genesis of the play and
the fact that Goethe completed it during his Italian journey of 1786—88, when
he was intensively exposed to Renaissance painting with its pervasive allegorical
conventions and constellations involving idealized figures descending from
clouds with symbols of human ideals (205).'7 Indeed, it is not difficult to imag-
ine possible models for Goethe's final vision in the play and we will have an op-
portunity to explore them in chapters 7 and 8.
The wealth of literary metaphors in the text of Egmont has always been one
reason for its continuing fascination among literary scholars, but these are just
the starting point for further levels of metaphorical signification in the play.
This textual flavouring expands to become part of a larger concept that con-
nects the notion of image to character depiction and structure. Finally, image
becomes vision and transcends the reality of both literary text and the stage in a
surrealistic finale, so that in the end the image itself triumphs over the text.
Figure 4
Egmont's Dream.
Adam Friedrich Oeser (1717-99)
and Christian Gottlieb Geyser
(1740-1803). Title Page. Goethe's,
Schrifien. Band v. Leipzig: Goschen
1788. See. p. 178.
Figure 5
Angelika Kauffmann (1741-1807),
Skizze zu Goethe's Egmont
(Traumszene; undated).
See p. 179.
Figure 6
Beschort. Egmonts Traum von Gothe. Iffland, Almanack furs Theater, 1808. See p. 180.
Figure 7
Egmont im Gefangnis.
Urania 1815. Gustav
Heinrich Naeke
(1786-1835) and Johann Friedrich
Wilhelm Jury (1763-1829).
See p. 181.
Figure 8
Egmont V. Aufeug, letzte Szene.

Minerva 1825. Johann Heinrich
Ramberg (1763-1840) and Carl August
Schwerdgeburth (1785-1878).
See p. 181.
Figure 9
Egmonts Traum. (?)
Rentzlich and Julius Casar Thater
(1804-70). Angekauft vom Sachs.
Kunstvereine und bey der
Verloosung 1830 gewonnen von
Herrn Maler Opitz in Leipzig
(undated).
See p. 181.
Figure 10
Die Freiheit in der Gesralt

Klarchens erscheint Egmont
imTraum (undated). Friedrich
Wilhelm von Schadow
(1788-1862). See p. 181.
Figure n
Egmontv, I. Klarchen.
Minerva 1825. Ramberg, Jury.
See p. 182.
Figure 12
Egmontiv, 3. Alba. Minerva 1825.

Ramberg, Schwerdgeburth.
See p. 182.
Figure 13
Egmontm. Egmont und Klarchen.

Urania 1815. Naeke, Jury.
See p. 182.
Figure 14
Egmont and Klarchen. Angelika Kauffmann
and Johann Heinrich Lips (1758-1817).
Goethe's, Schriften. Bd. v. Leipzig: Goschen
1788. See p. 183.
Figure 15
Egmont in, letzte Szene. Egmont und

Klarchen. Urania 1815. Naeke,
Schwerdgeburth.
See p. 183.
Figure 16
Egmont ui, 2. Egmont und

Klarchen. Minerva 1825.
Ramberg, Schwerdgeburth.
See p. 183.
Figure 17
Three characters from Egmont:
(1. to r.) Count Egmont,
Klarchen, and William
of Orange (undated).
See p. 184.
Figure 18
Das Ehepaar Amalie und Pius Alexander

Wolff, in Hermann und Dorothea.
Idyllisches Familiengemalde
von C. Toepfer nach Goethe (undated).
See p. 184.
Figure 19
Oels als Egmont. Goethe-Museum

Dusseldorf. Schwerdgeburth
(undated).
See p. 184.
6 Acting i: Image on Stage
A single event precipitated the cooperation between Goethe and Schiller in

adapting Egmont for the stage. Even more important than the fact that Schiller
had already established himself as a successful dramaturge in Mannheim was the
news that Germany's most celebrated actor was coming to perform in Weimar.
By 1794 the French siege had rendered uncertain the fate of the Mannheim Na-
tionaltheater where Iffland was employed, and its closure on December 6 forced
him to look for work elsewhere. Goethe seized the opportunity to invite him
and took personal steps to make the offer attractive, even including an invita-
tion to reside in his own home along with the Schillers.1 During the run of four-
teen performances Iffland played thirteen roles (one twice); the last, on 25 April
1796, was Egmont.1 The other plays, chosen jointly by Iffland and Goethe, were
for the most part already well known and successful, and Goethe's addition of
Egmont to them enhanced the opportunity to rescue his play from its earlier
fate. Goethe saw that the talent and charisma of a great actor could make
Egmont succeed. To this he added the hand of an accomplished dramatist, but it
was the anticipation of the actor, not the dramatist, that precipitated the event.
Goethe had looked forward to their tripartite collaboration (letter to Iffland of
30 March 1796, WA iv, 30, 59), and three weeks into the run (March 28 to April
25) already knew that he had made a good decision, expressing his admiration
for Iffland in a long letter to Johann Heinrich Meyer (1759-1832), and confident
that the power of Iffland's acting would rescue his play (18 April 1796, WA iv, n,
52-4). This is a testament to the power of acting in Egmont and on the contem-
porary stage.
1/7 Image on Stage
IFFLAND AS EGMONT
We know exactly how Iffland played Egmont on 25 April 1796, for journalist
and editor Karl August Bottiger (1760-1835), eyewitness and intimate of the
Weimar stage, left us a detailed account (3 52-76) ? He makes no bones about
his unhappiness with many of the adjustments Schiller introduced to the text
(364, note i), and with regard to the performance begins with the familiar com-
plaint: "den Egmont, der dem genialischen Dichter bey der Verfertigung der
schonsten Scenen dieses Schauspiels jenseits der Alpen [in Italien] vor Augen
schwebte, ... konnte und wollte Iffland nicht geben" (352—3). Iffland was not
suited to the role, and all concerned knew it - he never played the leading cava-
lier or lover (352) - yet his superb talent and wide renown overrode such con-
cerns.4 In the central scene with Klarchen at his knee Iffland failed to convey
the intimate tenderness we might expect, yet: "die Worte in dieser Scene, wo
sich Egmont gleichsam als ein doppeltes Wesen, erst als den steifen, kalten
Staatsmann, dann als den feurigsten Liebhaber in Clarchens Armen darstellt,
erfiillten, wie sie hier vorgetragen wurden, alle Forderungen der Kunst" (355).
His appearance before Klarchen in the glorious regalia of the Golden Fleece was
played with subde nuance (357-8; [165-6]), and in the pivotal scene with Alba,
Iffland even outdid the playwright in the range of reactions he evoked: "Gothe
dachte sich wahrscheinlich diese Unterredung mehr als eine politische Conver-
sation, bey welcher Egmont eigentlich nur ein einziges Mai in Hitze gerath und
auffahrt. Iffland legte tiefere Empfindung und alle die Bitterkeit hinein, die wir
selbst gegen Alba ... empfinden mufiten" (358-9). Further, the ravages of war
came vividly to life through Egmont's description: "Wir erblickten ... selbst die
Leichen der Burger, der Kinder, der Jungfrauen. Und nun das vollendende nach
einem vollen Ausathmen tief hervor gehobene, langsam feierlich gesprochene:
'Und wie wird dirs seyn, wenn du still sagen mufit, fur meine Sicherheit ergriff
ich die Waffen?' Die ganze Versammlung fiihlte sich von der Innigkeit ergriffen,
womit diefi gesprochen wurde. Mochte nur jeder Herrscher im Moment, wo er
den Befehl zum Friedensbruch unterschreibt, eine solche Stimme horen kon-
nen!" (361; [103]). Descriptions like this attest to the actors power. Bottiger de-
scribes Egmont's monologues as having similar effect (362-3), but his most
detailed observations are reserved for the dream vision in the final act — he
dwells on it for eight pages, about a third of the entire essay (366-73). Since
Schiller altered Goethe's original vision,
die am SchluE eingefuhrte Vision konnte natiirlich, als ein unsichtbares Traumbild, den
Zuschauern nur dadurch versinnlicht werden, dafi der schlafende Egmont durch gewisse
sprechende Bewegungen des Kopfes und der Hande das andeudete [sic], was ihm jetzt
in einer Art von Verziickung in den hohern Regionen sichtbar wurde. Hier gait es
also eine Pantomime im Schlafe, wo doch die Sinne gebunden, und die Hande in ihrem
Gebrauch bis auf wenige halb starre Bewegungen gelahmt seyn mufiten ... Allein auch
so blieb die Pantomime eines Traumenden eine schwere, nur von einem grofien Kiinstler
zu losende Aufgabe. (366)
An understatement indeed. Bottiger proceeds to describe precisely how Iffland

accomplished the feat using three striking movements to coincide with the vi-
sion's critical points, "und doch bezeichneten diese drey Momente die Erschei-
nung so deutlich, dal? keinem Aufmerksamen der Sinn verborgen bleiben
konnte" (371). Should we be sceptical of Bottiger's account? Was Iffland indeed
so skilled? Kilian, for one, had doubts that an actor could communicate in just
three movements the essence of the allegorical narrative in either Goethe's origi-
nal or Schiller's adaptation (41).' But as reviews of contemporary Egmont perfor-
mances showed in chapter 4, the audience consisted to a great extent of people
who had read the play, who knew it well, and who may even have been follow-
ing along with a copy of Goethe's text on their lap. After all, the interior of the
house in Weimar was illuminated just as it was in other cities (Maurer-Schmook
68—9), so reading was neither difficult nor frowned upon. Iffland had the ad-
vantage of knowing that the audience was seeing his pantomime with the cru-
cial elements of the dream already imprinted on their minds, so his suggestive
movements simply set in motion a series of pictures in their imaginations.
Bottiger begins to recount how he did it: "Der Ifflandsche Egmont liegt auf
der rechten Seite, mit dem Kopfe auf dem untergelegten Arm ruhend, den
Zuschauern vollig zugekehrt" (370). This allowed the audience a full view of the
actor's face. Bottiger sharply criticizes Adam Friedrich Oeser's (1717-99) title
vignette of Egmont in the first edition (1788) which showed the protagonist in a
prone position which defeated the dramatic purpose of keeping Egmont's face,
arms, hands, and upper body exposed to the audience (369; see Figure 4,
p. 168): Bottiger's outright rejection of Oeser's vignette came from the perspec-
tive of a man of the theatre, an actor interested in the scene's dramatic qualities,
and specifically in Schiller's version, which required that the entire dream se-
quence be mimed. Egmont's closed eyes point to a very different concept of
what occurs in the scene. Goethe's original text carried some indication that
Egmont reacts to the vision while it occurs (see p. 163), so it is surprising that
Oeser showed him sunk entirely into an inner world. The vision here is its own
piece of theatre within the play, even framed by curtains, complete with details
of arrows, hat, and laurel wreath. Egmont's position and the disorder of the bed
do not run contrary to the tone of a scene depicting him at his desperate end,
but the allegorical female's appearance and her reaching down from the cloud to
place the wreath on his head is wholly an imaginary event which never pene-
trates Egmont's physical world. Bottiger thus protests the way Oeser chose to
represent the scene despite the way Goethe wrote it.
But it was very different when Iffland acted Schiller. As he played the scene,
Iffland kept his lower body almost motionless, for according to Bottiger hu-
179 Image on Stage
mans reflect externally the content of their dreams only through upper body re-
actions, so that is where the action occurs:
Bin leises Zucken im Nacken verkiindigte das Beginnen des Phantasiespiels. Die himm-
lische Gestalt erscheint. Der schlummernd eingesunkene Kopf hebt sich zur Halfte,
und sagt uns: ein interessantes Bild schwebe vor ihm. Erster Moment. - Nach einer
kurzen Pause, wahrend welcher der Kopf in dieser halb gehobenen, betrachtenden Stel-
lung geblieben 1st, hebt er sich ganz zur ekstatischen Anschauung. Es ist ein Riick-
biegen, wie man iiber sich gen Himmel blickt. Die hehre Himmelsgestalt zeigt ihm den
Bund Pfeile und den Freyheitshut. Zweiter Moment. - Die Gestalt schwebt naher zu
ihm herab, und scheint ihm den Kranz aufsetzen zu wollen. Es ist Clarchen selbst in
der holden Gestalt der Freyheitsgottin. Sichtbar hebt sich die Brust des Schlafers. Er
stohnt und schlagt in eben dem Augenblicke beide Arme zusammen, als wolle er den
iiber ihm schwebenden Engel erfassen. Das Haupt war auf einen Augenblick schlaff
zuriick gesunken, weil eine fortdauernde Steifung unnatiirlich gewesen ware: aber
beym Ausstrecken der Arme erhalt es noch einmal seine ekstatische, zuriick gebogene
Richtung. Drifter Moment. - Die Kriegsmusik nahert sich. Er erwacht. Aber selbst
hier kein rasches Aufspringen, wahrend er nach dem Kranze des Traumbildes auf
seinem Haupte greift, und der feinste Anstand im allmahlichen Herabsenken der FiiEe.
(372-3)
What a performance! Note Bottiger's phrasing at the start, "Der schlummernd

eingesunkene Kopf hebt sich zur Halite, und sagt uns." The mime begins not
just to show, but to speak - the visual image replaces the spoken word. What
follows is like a moving picture, an early nineteenth century precursor of the
silent film.
Iffland's interpretation of Egmont in this scene was perhaps not his doing
alone. We saw that Goethe's version suggested mime. It is also well known that
while Goethe was completing Egmont during the Italian Journey he was accom-
panied for a time in Rome by the artist (Maria Anna) Angelika (Catharina)
Kauffmann (1741-1807), whose friendship he enjoyed for many years. It is she
who drew the famous scene of Klarchen at Egmont's knee, but not widely
known is her sketch of the vision scene (see Figure 5, p. i68).6 In her conversa-
tions with Goethe, Kauffmann remarked of her drawing:
da die Erscheinung nur vorstelle, was in dem Gemiite des schlafenden Helden vorgehe,
so konne er mit keinen Worten starker ausdrucken, wie sehr er sie Hebe und schatze, als
es dieser Traum tue, der das liebenswiirdige Geschopf nicht zu ihm herauf, sondern fiber
ihn hinauf hebe. Ja, es wolle ihr wohl gefallen, dafi der, welcher durch sein ganzes Leben
gleichsam wachend getraumt, Leben und Liebe mehr als geschatzt, oder vielmehr nur
durch den Genufi geschatzt, dafi dieser zuletzt noch gleichsam traumend wache und uns
still gesagt werde, wie tief die Geliebte in seinem Herzen wohne und welche vornehme
und hohe Stelle sie darin einnehme. (AK, 79)
Egmont's position here is just as Iffland played him, with head propped up by
the right hand, looking up at Klarchen as freedom goddess, and the arching
stroke above her right arm indicates the moment at which she places the laurel
wreath on his head.
BESCHORT AS EGMONT
I asked just how far we can trust Bottiger's account of this scene and its effect. If
the point that audience members likely knew the scene well from the text is in-
sufficiendy convincing, then we can turn to what is an actual pictorial record of
the way it was acted. Figure 6 shows the well known actor Friedrich Jonas Bes-
chort (1767-1846) playing the scene in Berlin between 1801 and 1804, before the
picture was published in Iffland's Almanack furs Theater (1808). We recall the re-
views of Berlin performances in 1801 and 1804 (chapter 4) and that Iffland had
by then assumed the role of Oranien, replaced by Beschort as Egmont, so that
this picture shows Beschort in one of those early Berlin productions with coactor
Iffland, who no doubt had much to say about how the scene should be played.
The picture (Figure 6, p. 169) demonstrates that Beschort used Iffland's Wei-
mar performance of 1796 as a model for his own performance in Berlin. Be-
schort as Egmont, like Iffland, reclines on his right side, so that the audience can
see every gesture and expression. In the Enter Moment his head, too, is "halb ge-
hoben" with the aid of the pillow, and his eyes, although closed, are eerily "be-
trachtend." A lamp has been placed deliberately behind the arch above his head
to draw the audience's attention and to highlight the mimic display, creating in
effect a closeup of the actor's face. There is a tension in the neck which keeps
the head from sinking into the pillow, so that as with Iffland's Egmont, the fig-
ure "sich ganz zur ekstatischen Anschauung hebt." Beyond the eerie gaze of the
eyes, the position of the hands in this picture is most revealing. As a single im-
age, the static frame can represent only one moment in the sequence, and that
moment, in my opinion, is Bottiger's Zweyter. While Bottiger stressed that Iff-
lands Egmont rested his head at the outset on his right arm, this must have
been only to begin the scene, for his reaching for the vision in the Zweyter Mo-
ment must have required that the right arm be moved to a position beside him,
as in our picture. Indeed, the creasing of the pillow, lower left, suggests that the
right arm had previously rested just there. The spread fingers of the hands are
now unmistakably poised to grasp and touch, the arms have begun their up-
ward movement toward the vision aloft. This is surely the point from which
"Sichtbar die Brust des Schlafers sich hebt. Er stohnt und schlagt in eben dem
Augenblicke beide Arme zusammen, als wolle er den iiber ihm schwebenden
Engel erfassen. "7
Beschort was not the only one to model his performance on Iffland's, as the
play was produced more and more. In Frankfurt, twenty years later, Johann
Heinrich Christian Ludwig Becker (1764-1822) was still doing the same: "Wir
181 Image on Stage
miifiten uns sehr irren," wrote a reviewer, "wenn nicht Hr. Becker bei dem Stu-
dium seiner Rolle die Abhandlung, welche Bottiger iiber Iffland's Darstellung
des Egmont in Weimar mit scharf psychologischer Auseinandersetzung uns
gegeben, zur Hand gehabt hat."8
EGMONT COPIES
Several further depictions of the scene show that it became a key image for the
play in contemporary viewers' minds, with Kauffmann's and Iffland's portrayals
showing continuing influence. The continuing interplay between dramatic and
visual arts becomes obvious from the following sequence. First, a series of Eg-
mont pictures was published in die 1815 edition of Urania, including Figure 7
(p. 169): Here again Egmont lies with his head supported by his right arm, but
now with his arms entwined, and his right leg now reaches to the floor. His face
is turned attentively to the vision, though there is less of die detail of his mimed
or gestural reaction. The Johann Heinrich Ramberg (1763-1840)/Carl August
Schwerdgeburth (1785-1878) depiction, which appeared with several other Eg-
mont pictures in Minerva (1825), seems to recall more closely the Iffland/Beschort
conception (see Figure 8, p. 170). Here the bed has been shortened so that Eg-
mont's feet are on die ground, the face is turned up to the vision, and the arms,
hands, and raised leg show a state of ecstatic response. A further depiction is sim-
ilar in its animation (see Figure 9, p. 170): Here, though Egmont's couch has
been improbably improved, his closed eyes and gesture suggest an ecstatic re-
sponse similar to that shown in the previous picture. Finally, Friedrich Wilhelm
von Schadow's (1788-1862) water colour of the vision scene (Figure 10) betrays
some influence of Iffland's prototype, with Egmont resting on his right side and
the right arm supporting the head, but there is none of the animation and drama
contained in the picture of Beschort above (see Figure 10, p. 171). Schadow por-
trays, as Oeser before him on the title page of the first edition, what might well
be called the Egmont of the visual arts, which is at the same time the scene
criticized by Schiller as a "Salto mortale in eine Opernwelt." Despite his pose,
Egmont looks asleep and Klarchen emerges through the wall on a cloud like a
goddesss. Compare this with the solid wall of stone blocks behind Beschort. She
is indeed "in himmlischem Gewande," but widiout the trappings of a "Biindel
Pfeile," "Stab mit dem Hute," or "Lorbeerkranz"; she is by no means the alle-
gorical figure from either Goethe's or Schiller's versions. The illumination now
falls upon her, and the light on the Egmont figure has changed from a spodight
on his face to a curiously mystical halo, the only odier point of light being the
illuminated cross lower right. All three points of emphasis suggest a religious im-
age, an altar piece, rather than a dramatic vignette, and show that die literary
sense of Egmont was holding its ground.
The legacy of Iffland's contribution to the history and practice of German act-
ing is contained in a pictorial collection known as Ifflands mimische Darstellungen
i8i Images of Goethe through Schiller's Egmont
(1811-18), approximately 500 drawings completed by the brothers Henschel of

performances in Berlin from 1808 to 1811, Iffland's crowning years. They are for
the most part accessible today through Heinrich Harle's reproductions.9 The
Henschel drawings show many actors in various roles and works, an elaborate
pictorial record of the stars. It is important to realize that these Henschel broth-
ers' pictures were drawn during performances, and hence are the contemporary
equivalent to today's photographs of actors in their roles on stage. They are also
of action scenes, the equivalent to today's film clips, serving to illustrate the art-
istry of actors, to entice filmgoers through advertising, or simply to feed the ap-
petites of stargazers. While the Henschel brothers' collection is likely the most
important of its age in German-speaking territory, there were many others, and
anyone occupied intensively with European theatre history has come across some
of them. Virtually any modern illustrated history of German theatre includes
some such action poses, and catalogues documenting exhibitions of the period
are likely to contain a selection.10 Beyond collections such as that of the Hen-
schels, published dramas commonly included frontispieces made up of drawings
of such scenes reproduced as etchings, and there were often several others
throughout the volume, to illustrate key moments and important passages of di-
alogue, phrases from which could be included as a caption, so that the precise
moment of die scene could be identified.
Figure n is an example of that type of picture, showing Klarchen at the be-
ginning of Goethe's Act v, as she runs through the streets in a vain attempt to
arouse citizen support for their hero (see Figure n, p. 171): Through its caption,
the picture has a precise textual referent: "Kommt! In eurer Mitte will ich ge-
hen" (compare [234]), so that her appearance and actions can be linked to the
meaning of what she says. Her face as well as those of her fellow citizens is full
of expression and emotion, her arms and hands thrown out to show her reckless
openness and vulnerability, while the citizens shrink and cower in fear and ap-
prehension. It is a dramatic scene which in detail represents what well could
take place on a stage.
Similarly, the following depiction of Alba as he awaits Egmont in Act n is full
of dramatic energy (see Figure 12, p. 172). Again it is keyed precisely to the text:
"Wie in einem Loostopf greifst du in die dunkle Zukunft" (compare [203]).
The open window tells of Egmont's arrival - one can hear with Alba the sound
of his horse approaching. Albas eyes show an intensity of thought, his right
hand and finger raised to the chin, showing the uncertainty and apprehension
of the moment before what will be a critical scene in the play.
A further example can be seen in the famous scene in which Egmont appears
to Klarchen "spanisch," one which contains enormous potential for visual and
dramatic effect, and one on which I shall focus when considering modern pro-
ductions in chapter 9 (see Figure 13, p. 172): One hardly needs the textual link
to Act in in the subtitle to realize the precise point to which the picture refers
(compare [166]). Any director or actor should look at this when preparing to
183 Image on Stage
play the scene, for it is alive with light, costume, mime, and gesture. Klarchen
has a particularly animated role, reacting with astonishment and joy to the glo-
rious vision of her Spanish knight. Her raised hands and stance suggest that she
is physically arrested, virtually knocked back by this splendid image, a power
generated by the optical impact alone.
Undoubtedly the most famous picture associated with Egmont is that drawn
for the first edition of 1788 by Angelika Kauffmann and etched by Johann Hein-
rich Lips (1758-1817), facing the title page which carried Oeser's vignette (see
Figure 14, p. 173)." The scene is in "Klarchens Wohnung" at the end of Goethe's
Act in or "Biirgerliches Zimmer," Schiller's n, 9. Egmont has arrived, and after
the excitement of his self-revelation in Spanish attire, they settle down together.
His famous Doppelganger speech follows:
Egmont. Siehst du, Klarchen! - Laf? mich sitzen! - [iyz]

Er setzt sich, sie kniet vor ihm aufeinem Schemel, legt ihre Anne aufseinen Schoos und sieht
ihn an Jener Egmont ist ein verdriefilicher kalter Egmont, der an sich halten, bald dieses
bald jenes Gesicht machen mufi; geplagt, verkannt, verwickelt ist, wenn ihn die Leute
fur froh und frohlich halten; geliebt von einem Volcke, dafi nicht weifi was es will; geehrt
und in die Hone getragen, von einer Menge, mit der nichts anzufangen ist; umgeben
von Freunden, denen er sich nicht iiberlassen darf; beobachtet [173] von Menschen, die
ihm auf alle Weise beykommen mogten; arbeitend und sich bemiihend, oft ohne Zweck,
meist ohne Lohn - o lafi mich schweigen, wie es dem ergeht, wie dem zu Muthe ist.
Aber dieser, Klarchen, der ist ruhig, ofFen, gliicklich, geliebt und gekannt, von dem be-
sten Herzen, das auch er ganz kennt und mit voller Liebe und Zutrauen an das seine
driickt. Er umarmt sie. Das ist dein Egmont!
Here we can clearly distinguish Egmont's costume and regalia, so that the pic-
ture incorporates that dimension of his public image and, combined with his re-
laxed, affectionate pose, shows that other fundamental quality of his character,
his gentle sensitivity as Klarchen's partner. But the speech obviously requires a
variety of gestural and mimic accompaniment. Perhaps it can be understood to
occur at the moment of the stage direction, or perhaps at the last sentence, but
actors wanting to succeed in depicting the range of meanings and emotions ex-
pressed by the dialogue would not find much instruction from either Goethe's
or Schiller's version of the scene. The positioning of the two figures is on the
other hand a contemporary reflection of social rank and role, the knight above
the burgher, the woman at the feet of the man, a visual constellation leaving a
lasting impression as meaningful as anything delivered by the text."
As was the case with the celebrated scene of Egmont in his cell, this one was
redrawn and published by other artists, with different effect (see Figures 15 and
16, pp. 173—4). The version of 1815 is much the same as Kauffmann's in costume,
composition, lighting, and tone, an idyllic static impression of a couple in love.
But a version of 1825 has reversed both the configuration and changed the tone
completely. What are they doing with their hands, we might ask? And what of
their faces? There is an unmistakable interplay here, movement, action, and the
body, head, and hand positions strongly suggest fondling. There is a realism
that goes far beyond Kauffmann's idyllic image and brings the scene to life, even
if in a way some might find unacceptable in tone. When we consider the scene
as played on numerous modern stages, we will see that the decision to depict the
couple here as emotionless representatives of their sex, as doting doves, or even
as ardent lovers was important in the minds of many directors.
EGMONT AND OTHERS
A distinction must be made between pictures linked to specific actors in specific

roles and scenes, and those which could be called generic. Beschort above is an
example of a specific depiction, the group scenes generic, without direct con-
nection to a specific actor or performance. A third type of picture mixes the two
in a meaningful way, as in one portrayal of Egmont, Oranien, and Klarchen (see
Figure 17, p. 174): It is impossible to guess from the pictures themselves which
actors are depicted or which scenes, despite the fact that the characters are strik-
ing deliberate theatrical poses and in Egmont's case making an apparently
meaningful gesture. Only through the costumes could a possible link with a
specific actor or production be made, but diat is unlikely. Like these three pic-
tures, most depictions of roles at the time are in fact generic, even if they bear
some trappings of specificity. Another example shows the famous couple Amalie
and Pius Alexander Wolff as Hermann and Dorothea (Figure 18), and while
they did in fact play these roles on stage, the cataloguer identifies the picture
as an "idyllisches Familiengemalde nach Goethe (see Figure 18, p. 175)."I3 The
details of position, pose, gesture, and expression shown here may be far re-
moved from those that actually occurred during the performance, and pictures
such as this illustrate the transfer of the dramatic image to the general social
sphere. Role playing on stage becomes a model for role playing in society. Eg-
mont, Klarchen, and Oranien above, as the Wolffs in Hermann und Dorothea,
are no longer stage characters, they are social role models in their appearance,
comportment, and perhaps even through the stage characters they portray. The
same applies to this example (see Figure 19, p. 175): Here we see the Weimar ac-
tor Carl Ludwig Oels (1771—1833) as Egmont, though that could scarcely be
guessed from the picture alone. The cross on the chain of his regalia, which we
would expect to indicate a Knight of the Golden Fleece, is inaccurate and mis-
leading, for it is a lamb that is the sign of that order and of the historical
Egmont's pendant, not a cross (see detail of Egmont's chain, Figures 13-15). This
portrayal shows a stylized cavalier who has little to do with his original, espe-
cially odd since Oels acted the role in Weimar in Goethe's time and was even
praised by Genast as Goethe's ideal Egmont (see fn. 4). Like the previous depic-
tion of the Wolffs, this one shows a continued blurring of lines between acting
185 Image on Stage
and social role playing; in fact, if one looks randomly at similar drawings and
paintings of the period, without knowing if they are of theatrical or social
scenes, it would often be impossible to tell the difference. Acting on stage, when
transferred to the visual arts, sometimes seemed identical to acting in society.
This chapter has demonstrated that Iffland's Egmont became the touchstone
for many later performances of the title role, because of his renowned ability as
an actor. We have also seen the close connection between acting and the visual
arts, whose portrayals are the only way we can still envision with some degree of
accuracy how Iffland and his successors acted portions of their roles. We have
seen further a transition in our understanding of the concept of acting, which
became part of a social concept beyond the limits of the stage and the theatre.
Acting blended with social behaviour when the visual arts mixed specific roles
with social types. In the following two chapters, these social dimensions of act-
ing become our focus. Goethe, even more than Iffland, was a celebrity, as an ac-
tor, as a director, and as a highly placed civil servant in Weimar. It is now time
to give attention to the way in which he performed each of these functions.
Figure 20Figure 20
Adolar undHilaria. oder die Zigeuner. Georg Melchior Kraus. Auffiihrung des Schauspiels von
Friedrich Hildebrand von Einsiedel (1750-1828) in Ettersberg. Olgemalde von Georg Melchior
Kraus, 1780. See p. 189.
Figure 21
Iphigenie und Orest (Corona Schroter und Goethe). Georg Melchior Kraus (undated). See p. 189.
Figure 22
Biihnenbildentwurf zu der Oper Die Saal-Nixe. Goethe (undated). See p. 197.
7 Acting 2: The Director's Image
GOETHE THE ACTOR
An emphasis on the visual dimension of acting is consistent with Goethe's ap-

proach to the stage in Weimar. After moving there in 1775, his first intensive
theatrical experience was with an active and successful Liebhabertheater, which
he soon directed. Like the other members of the group, Goethe participated in
performances, either informally or in one of their many ambitious and sophisti-
cated productions (Sichardt). Some of Goethe's acting is documented in pic-
tures, for example, as Adolar in Friedrich Hildebrand von Einsiedel's (1750—
1828) Adolar und Hilaria oder Die Zigeuner, performed in the open air at Etters-
burg (see Figure 20, p. 186). Doubtless the most famous such depiction of
Goethe as actor is Kraus's oil of him as Orest with Corona Schroter as Iphigenie
in a 1779 Liebhabertheater production in the Redoutensaal of the Weimar court
(see Figure 21, p. 187): This beautiful oil is filled with dramatic action at the pre-
cise moment of Iphigenie's self-revelation to her brother: "Es zeigt sich dir im
tiefsten Herzen an: / Orest, ich bin's! Sieh Iphigenien!" (in, i; WA i, 10, 50).
Goethe's pose, his startled expression, his raised arm and gesture with the hand
are all elements through which he attempted to convey Orest's reaction to
this climactic moment. Was the effectiveness of Goethe's performance mainly
dependent on his knowledge and reproduction of the technical elements of dec-
lamatory style or were there other factors? And how can we know that this is the
way he really looked? The very fact that the medium is oil suggests a time delay
between the event and Kraus's portrayal, and even if the painter was attempting
a precise duplication, the blurring of memory must be taken into account.
Goethe's Orest was indeed memorable, receiving praise from many witnesses,
but not because of the detail of his declamatory technique or the historical pre-
cision of his costume. Rather, praise focussed on the totality of his performance
and on factors that had nothing to do with the play at all. In the picture, Iphi-
genie/Schroter is largely hidden by her costume while Orest/Goethe stands in
full masculine splendour. This is how Hoffraulein Luise Ernestine Christiane
Juliane von Gochhausen (1752—1807) described him in a letter to Goethe's
mother soon after (6 April 1779): "Der Herr Doktor hat seinen Orest meister-
haft gespielt. Sein Kleid sowie des Pylades seins war griechisch, und ich hab ihn
in meinem Leben noch nicht so schon gesehen!" (Ziegler 13). An even more en-
thusiastic comment on Goethe's physical beauty as Orest came from his physi-
cian and friend Christoph Wilhelm Hufeland (1762-1836) in his memoirs: "Als
Knabe und Jiingling schon sah ich ihn im Jahre 1776 [sic] in Weimar erscheinen
in voller Kraft und Bliite der Jugend und des anfangenden Mannesalters. Nie
werde ich den Eindruck vergessen, den er als Orestes im griechischen Kostiim
in der Darstellung seiner 'Iphigenia' machte; man glaubte einen Apollo zu se-
hen. Noch nie erblickte man eine solche Vereinigung physischer und geistiger
Vollkommenheit und Schonheit in einem Manne als damals an Goethe" (Wahl,
60). Such extravagance is reminiscent of the obscure, primitive acting guide Von
der Schauspielkunst of 1780 which is signed at the end by "Gott Apoll" himself
(91). What was surely an exaggeration of the effectiveness of Goethe's Orest by
both female and male observers demonstrates that in their critical assessments,
contemporaries were just as much interested in Goethe's private persona as the
stage character he portrayed, and were incapable of separating the two.
Since the Prague school of theatre semiotics, students of the stage have be-
come aware that analysis of acting should take notice of three dimensions: actor,
stage figure, and character. The actor is the person playing the role, a human
with a private identity and daily tribulations just like any other, all of which
affect his artistic portrayal to some extent. The stage figure is the person repre-
sented on stage, a fictitious identity assumed for the duration of the play, cre-
ated by the actor in conjunction with the author. The character is that figure as
interpreted by the audience, each member of which understands it differently,
though these may be degrees of overlap and similarity.1 More recently, a fourth
dimension has received attention: the actor as celebrity. Iffland, for example,
was indeed that. In our day he would be comparable to a celebrated movie star,
but not one of that raft of pseudocelebrities in the entertainment and sports
world today. He was comparable to such modern stage luminaries as Sir John
Gielgud, Meryl Streep, and Oskar Werner whose fame on the boards expanded
enormously through their profile on the screen and whose reputation is deserv-
edly durable. Leading actors from the eighteenth century to the present have of-
ten become icons in the cult of stardom. Audiences flock to see them, often
motivated only secondarily by their interest in the stage character or the work
presented. Truly talented celebrities do not disappoint in performance either,
191 The Director's Image
for their ability carries them past ephemeral adulation to enduring critical suc-
cess, so that audiences are doubly satisfied, enjoying the thrill of a fine perfor-
mance and the aura of the personality. As Carlson points out, there is an
inevitable mixture of the celebrity persona with the stage figure, and hence with
the character in the audience's mind. This mixture includes elements of the
celebrity's private life (the more known, the more titillating), outstanding
roles played previously (often signature roles which forever remain a point of
reference), and stock types with which the actor has become identified. Carlson
writes, "Many a stage character, as Quinn suggests, has been confused or de-
stroyed by distractions arising from the celebrity of a well-known star, but it is
also true that many characters, inadequately drawn in the script, have been
made rich and interesting on stage by the infusion of some particular actor's ce-
lebrity" (1994: 113). Iffland's portrayal of Egmont in Weimar is a case in point
for the latter, and he was certainly not alone among Goethe's actors in enjoying
celebrity status over the years of Goethe's directorship. Pius Alexander Wolff en-
joyed similar acclaim a few years later. Corona Schroter, whom Goethe had
courted since he first heard her sing in 1776, was his female star in the nineties,
and Caroline Jagemann became Weimar's unchallenged prima donna in the first
two decades of the new century. Jagemann was immensely talented, a true star,
and a celebrity with all of the personal trappings a stargazing public could de-
sire. This exciting blend of talent and notoriety, including a good dose of amo-
rous intrigue, is just the stuff of Hollywood tabloids today. But the greatest
actor-celebrity in Weimar, who filled all requirements of the role even better
than Iffland and Jagemann, was Goethe himself.2
Deirdre Vincent has offered insights into the type of intrigue constantly sur-
rounding Goethe's acting: "In her play Rino (1776) Charlotte von Stein herself
had gently mocked the general acclaim in Weimar for Goethe's fine dark eyes;
in Dido (1794) she spitefully attacked his 'Schauspielergeberden' as being calcu-
lated for maximum effect on women" (167, fn. 56). Vincent describes Rino as "a
discussion among four society ladies on the subject of this young man, Rino,
who has much of the air of a Werther about him and is the darling of them all.
Rino himself appears only briefly in the first scene, but Frau von Stein's casting
of the roles is important for the hidden message she wishes to convey: Rino is to
be played by Goethe, the four ladies by Countess Anna Amalia, Fraulein von
Gochhausen, Frau von Werthern, and Charlotte von Stein herself. ... Clearly,
the play has two levels of meaning, the one eso-, the other exoteric. Outwardly
to its actors and audience it represents nothing more than a playful tribute to
the new darling of the Weimar court, but behind that lies a secret message from
Charlotte von Stein to Goethe which only he could understand, given that his
already ardent courtship was a deep secret between the two of them" (73).3
Iffland's appearance as Egmont in 1796 involved a combination of technical
competence and celebrity status. Such was the case for Goethe the actor as well.
His Orest became legendary, apparently not just because he played the role with
some technical talent, but because he seems to have instilled in his audience a
sense of awe that transcended the play. This was to be the pattern for Goethe's
theatre career, and just as his own status as actor was linked to his growing fame,
so was his overall development of the Weimar stage, but with one difference.
Historically, the actors had been the greatest celebrities, but in Weimar this was
to change: Goethe robbed them of their stardom and transferred it to himself.
GOETHE THE DIRECTOR
Goethe assumed the directorship of the Weimar court theatre in 1791 and con-
tinued in that position until 1817, during which time he directed or supervised
600 plays in over four thousand performances, 4,136 to be precise (Burkhardt,
xxxv). He was responsible for all aspects of the theatre as well as visits by the
ducal company to neighbouring towns and cities. This breadth of control was
unusual for the time, the title "Oberdirektor" itself being too narrow. There
were others who directed plays in Weimar, for example, Anton Genast, but al-
ways under Goethe's supervision. In his extensive early catalogue of German
theatres, Iffland listed the Weimar personnel this way: "Oberdirection, Sr. Ex-
cellenz der Hr. Geheimderath von Gothe und Hr. Hofkammerrath Kirms - Die
Regie besorgen die Herrn Becker und Genafi [Genast]" (Almanack, 370). The
responsibility of the traditional eighteenth-century theatre director was mainly
limited to interaction with the performers, rather than extending to the sets,
lighting, and other aspects of the production, as Wilfried Passow (133-4) and
Rudolf Miinz (161) have recently pointed out, with support from the earlier
work of Winfried Klara (58-9). Goethe's responsibilities and the details of his
directing style are outlined in a huge number of sources.4 To differentiate be-
tween the role of director and Goethe's purview, it is better to attach to him a
different title, such as the German "Intendant," a combination of general man-
ager and director, a term also used in English. Goethe's experience on stage with
the Liebhabertheater doubtlessly paid dividends later when he became director
and intendant, for actors were understandably resentful of directors who were
so presumptuous as to instruct them from a theoretical and aesthetic base alone.
Wilfried Passow relates some lively incidents of actors who ignored, even
flaunted and mocked instructions from directors who had not previously earned
their reputations on the boards (143). At the Liebhabertheater, Goethe had en-
couraged extemporization, particularly in comedy, and the repertoire included
entire evenings of extemporized performance (Sichardt, 102, 146), but as time
wore on he became increasingly wary of such freedom and by the end of the
century, among thoughts produced in discussions with Schiller and subse-
quently entitled "Uber den Dilettantismus" (1799), he writes: "Der Dilettant
verhalt sich zur Kunst, wie der Pfuscher zum Handwerk. Man darf bey der
Kunst voraussetzen, da6 sie gleichfalls nach Regeln erlernt und gesetzlich aus-
geiibt werden miisse" (WAi, 47, 322). Goethe always retained respect for extern-
porized play in acting, but such licence was gradually reduced to insignificance
as his career wore on. An entertaining illustration of Goethe's control and its
consequences for both the professional and personal lives of Goethe's players
can be read in the dismissal of the actor Carl Wilhelm Reinhold [Zacharias
Lehmann] (1777-1841) in 1807, an incident recounted and assessed by Dieter
Borchmeyer in his sprightly essay "Saat von Gothe gesaet ... Die 'Regeln fur
Schauspieler' - Bin theatergeschichtliches Geriicht" (esp. 265-7). Even threats
of arrest and incarceration were used to still Goethe's unruly actors and make
them toe the line he drew.
Of course Goethe's firsthand experience of Ifrland's professionalism during
the 1796 run had left a lasting impression of the great actor's blend of control
and innovation. Iffland visited Weimar again in 1798,1810, and 1812, by which
time Goethe's concept of production was well developed. Goethe's own set of
rules for acting, in so far as he collected them in one place, are his "Regeln fur
Schauspieler" (1803; first published 1824) which he called a "Grammatik" for
actors, the same term Conrad Ekhof had used decades before and which had
been Lessing's motivation for attempting to write his own Sckauspielkunst? We
should be reminded that Goethe's "Regeln" are fragments only, dictated as a
series of ad hoc lessons to his actors Karl Franz Griiner and Pius Alexander
WolfF, who then applied and modified them to their own circumstances. Dieter
Borchmeyer's cautious assessment of their authority and merit is thus entirely
appropriate (Bender, 273). The "Regeln" also followed on the heels of a pre-
scriptive volume for actors by Goethe's colleague Friedrich Einsiedel (author of
Adolar ...), Grundlinien zu einer Theorie der Schauspielkunst (1797), to whose
genesis Goethe had contributed considerably. Einsiedel characterized his guide
as "bios Skizzen zu dem Plane eines ... vollstandigeren Gebaudes," but he never
produced a further version (n). His treatise draws fundamental parallels be-
tween acting and the visual arts. He writes of "die theatralische Venvandlung
der Bilder des Dichters in Statuen" (20), and in order to explain how an actor
can transform a text on stage turns to "Analogien aus der bildenden Kunst"
(26-7). Fundamental to the Grundlinien is Einsiedel's distinction between
"Stil" and "Manier," the former having precedence and encompassing the over-
all aesthetic sense and tone of the work, the latter related to subordinate signs
which in conjunction with others contribute to the "Stil" (27-30), and also an
actor's individualistic ways of expression on stage. Actors must in fact suppress
their individuality in favour of the author's sense of "Stil" (36-7), and the
primacy of "Stil" leads to a " Veredelung der Natur," which is for Einsiedel the
goal of art (40). Art then has as its goal the idealization of nature. This ideal-
ization contains for Einsiedel many properties of the visual arts, even if he is
writing foremost about drama. He describes the author's intention to produce
"mimisch-bildliche Schilderungen" (60) and calls the actor "einen bildenden
Kiinstler" (62). Finally, Einsiedel recommends that every actor rely heavily on
Engel's Ideen zu einer Mimik to practice his craft (68).6
Goethe's "Regeln" can be seen as the next step, but the ninety-one brief sub-
sections and many detailed instructions on aspects of gesture, movement, voice,
and delivery which comprise the work are neither the "vollstandiges Gebaude"
Einsiedel had envisioned, nor an extensive grammar for actors to compare with
Engel's.7 With a number of good guides already in existence, one might wonder
why Goethe found it necessary to begin his own version at all. First, despite
increased professionalism in acting over the previous several decades, crude mis-
behaviour on stage was still common (we witnessed a sampling in chapter 4), so
that continuous emphasis on rules was indeed necessary. Then, the popularity
of the relatively new, so-called natural style led many an unprofessional player
to crudities such as blowing one's nose on stage in the middle of a scene or even
spitting (Borchmeyer in Bender, 270).8 Secondly, Goethe's own style was mov-
ing beyond even the fine naturalism of professionals such as Iffland toward an
idealized harmony of acting and production. With Goethe's own "Regeln" no
more than a fragment, his actors, like most of their contemporaries, continued
to rely on the guides in existence by 1790, but they were heavily modified by
Goethe's direction, as reflected in a comment on his star pupil Pius Alexander
Wolff: "Aber wie spielte er! wie war er sicher! wie war er fest! - Es war mir un-
moglich, ihm nur den Schein eines VerstoEes gegen die Regeln abzulisten, die
ich ihm eingepflanzt hatte" (MA, xix, 268). Goethe's strong-handed direction
became legendary. Long rehearsals, both reading the text and preparing the play,
became the order of the day. This account of an Egmont rehearsal in 1806 is a
good illustration of how his control superseded that of his other directors and
actors alike, and how he himself insisted that they play according to the rules of
which he approved:
Ein ander Mai sollte 'Egmont', nach Schillers Einrichtung fur die Biihne, gegeben wer-
den. Der Meister war behindert, den ersten Proben davon beizuwohnen. Dem Regisseur
Genast bleib die Leitung derselben iiberlassen. Die Schauspieler beklagten sich im Stil-
len, dass sie noch nicht wiissten, wie sie die Volksszene, wodurch die Tragodie eingeleitet
wird, im Sinne des Dichters darstellen sollten. Endlich erscheint Goethe in der Probe.
Als er das Gewirre sah, worin die Schauspieler sich nothdurftig bewegten, rief er: "Halt!"
ging auf die Biihne und ordnete die Stellung der zunachst Beschaftigten ... Da merkte
man es deutlich, wie durch diese kunstgemasse Gruppirung den Schauspielern das Ver-
standniss aufging und nun Sicherheit in ihre Leistungen kam.
In der Scene zwischen Herzog Alba (Graff) und Egmont (Oels) bemerkte Goethe:
"Lieber Graff, Ihre Gesticulationen waren ganz gut, wenn sie dabei nicht das Gesicht
verdeckten, das man nur in besonderen Fallen dem Zuschauer verbergen soil. Spielen Sie
start mil dem rechten Arme mit dem linken, so bleibt Ihr Gesicht frei und Ihre Mimik
geht dem Publicum nicht verloren. Auch ist es angemessener, die Worte, welche Alba an
Egmont, der zu seiner Linken steht, richtet, mit der linken Hand vorzugsweise zu unter-
stiitzen." Graff verneigte sich und sagte: "Sehr wohl, Excellenz!" (Graf, II. i, 232-3)
Notice in the first paragraph how Goethe achieved the desired effect through
"die Stellung der ... Beschaftigten ... durch diese kunstgemasse Gruppirung."
Beyond the details of individual acting technique, Goethe's predominant em-
phasis was on harmonious beauty, which was to be projected by the entire cast.
His first action in the anecdote above relates precisely to this. The emphasis is
also clear in the "Regeln," and much has been written about it as characteristic
of the Weimar style.9
We have seen Einsiedel's respect for Engel's guide and his insistence on the
connection between acting and the visual arts. Goethe was also well aware of
Engel's Ideen and emphasis on "die deudich gedachte Regel" (Engel, Ideen, vm,
24). Engel's guide had at the same time voiced one overriding principle:
Aber Nachahmung, Darstellung der Natur 1st ... ein Grundsatz der nirgend hinreicht.
Der Natur gelingt Manches in einer Vollkommenheit, dafi die Kunst nicht welter thun
kann, als es sorgfaltig aufzufassen und getreu wieder darzustellen; aber Manches erreicht
bei jener, auch wo sie am besten wirkt, den Grad der Vollkommenheit nicht, den es
sollte ... und da erfbrdert denn die Pflicht der Kunst, aus einer gesammelten Menge
von Beobachtungen, oder nach Grundsatzen die aus diesen Beobachtungen gezogen
sind, die Fehler der Natur zu verbessern, das Falsche zu berichtigen. (Ideen, vm, 19)
Engel's goal for actors was to depict not just nature but idealized nature and har-
mony. Several sections of Goethe's "Regeln" illustrate die same philosophy. In the
section "Stellung und Bewegung des Korpers auf der Buhne" we see that the
sense of harmony begins with the individual player: "Zunachst bedenke der
Schauspieler, da6 er nicht allein die Natur nachahmen, sondern sie auch idealised
vorstellen solle, und er also in seiner Darstellung das Wahre mit dem Schonen zu
vereinigen habe. ... Jeder Theil des Korpers stehe daher ganz in seiner Gewalt, so
dafi er jedes Glied gemafi dem zu erzielenden Ausdruck frei, harmonisch und mit
Grazie gebrauchen konne" (WAi, 40, itff.). Despite the fact that Goethe insisted
repeatedly that nature was die primary guide, to desire the effect of harmonious,
idealized truth was in a sense the same as advocating artificiality. As he goes on,
Goethe's idea of theatre seems equivalent to the living depiction of a beautiful
painting: "Das Theater ist als ein figurloses Tableau anzusehen, worin der
Schauspieler die Staffage macht. ... Man spiele daher niemals zu nahe an den
Coulissen. ... Eben so wenig trete man ins Proscenium. Diefi ist der grofite Mifi-
stand; denn die Figur tritt aus dem Raume heraus, innerhalb dessen sie mit dem
Scenengemahlde und den Mitspielenden ein Ganzes macht" (W54 i, 40, 166—7).
The word "Staffage" can mean "accessories" or "decoration," but in the late eigh-
teenth and early nineteendi centuries, it was used usually in connection with
painting to mean a group of humans or animals whose presence effectively
brought the scene to life in a plastic work (Grimm x, 5I4-I5).10 Rudolf Miinz
draws attention to Christian Heinrich Schmid's emphasis on the artistic grouping
AEgmont and Klarchen. Angelika KauffmannEgmont and Klarchen. Angelika Kauffmann
of actors in 1771 and Wilfried Passow cites Johann Gottfried Dyk's direct compar-
ison between scenic depiction in the theatre and in painting in 1788, so that
Goethe's putting the harmonious whole above the actors' individual impact and
his expressed connection between the visual arts and acting had more than one
forerunner (Miinz, 160; Passow, 143). Still, his pursuit of the alliance between the-
atre performance and the visual arts was stronger and more systematic than had
ever been seen in the German-speaking world before. In his Proserpina essay, he
went so far as to say that the movements of the body should remind us of "die
Wiirde der Plasrik" (WA i, 40,117).
We are reminded further of ideas that Goethe had shared with Wilhelm von
Humboldt just a few years earlier, ideas the latter expressed in his letter "Uber die
gegenwartige Franzosische Biihne" (n, 377-400), which Goethe published as an
essay in his Propylaen of 1800. Humboldt singled out for admiration the
"malerische Gestalt" of the Parisian actor Francois-Joseph Talma (1763-1826),
claiming: "Er mag sitzen, stehen, niederknien, so wird es der Maler immer werth
finden diese Stellungen zu studieren" (n, 379). Even in movement, claims Hum-
boldt, the French actors maintained this pictorial quality: "In dem Gebehrden-
spiel ist der Franzosische Schauspieler ... mehr malend, als der Deutsche, der nur
fast ausdriickende Gebehrden kennt" (n, 385). The term "ausdriickende Gebehr-
den" was part of the standard contemporary terminology to describe gestures,
which could be "zeigend" (indicative), "nachahmend" (imitative) or "ausdriick-
end" (expressive). Humboldt, and by extension Goethe, criticized German actors
for not going beyond the use of expressive gestures, but these were commonly un-
derstood until then to be the highest form of gestural expression.11 In the
"Regeln," Goethe goes beyond that, repeatedly using the term "mahlende Ge-
bahrde" (pictorial gesture), as in these examples: "Die mahlende Gebahrde mit
den Handen darf selten gemacht werden, doch auch nicht ganz unterlassen
bleiben ... Es mufi gemahlt werden, doch so, als wenn es nicht absichtlich ge-
schahe"; and a specific example relating to Schiller's Braut von Messina: "Hier
kann das erste Ich fiiglich mit der mahlenden Gebarde durch Bewegung der
Hand gegen die Brust bezeichnet werden" (WA i, 40, 158-9). Goethe also advo-
cates in the "Regeln" that entire series of gestures be arranged with specific regard
to pictorial quality: "Wer auf der rechten Seite steht, agire mit der linken Hand,
und umgekehrt, wer auf der linken Seite steht, mit der rechten, damit die Brust
so wenig als moglich durch den Arm verdeckt werde" (WA i, 40,160). In insisting
that actors stage right use their left hands to act, Goethe goes against the grain of
eighteenth-century acting technique which insisted that first and foremost the
right hand be used for gestures (see many examples in Barnett, 95—112 and
passim). Clearly, he was more concerned with the harmonious visual balance, the
pictorial equilibrium on stage, than with this tradition. Humboldt and Goethe
are saying that there is an even higher level of gesture than the "expressive," that
is, the "malerische Geste" which transcends the play itself to become a lingering
static image.12
As part of the harmonious unity of the entire production, Goethe was natu-
rally concerned about costuming, and as with his general inclination to equate
much of what happened on stage with the plastic arts, he crystallized a trend of
the age, rather than inventing it. For example, the Modejournal of 1803 contained
an essay on the colour coordination of theatre costumes and their relationship to
colour schemes in painting (Miinz, 176). It is well documented that in eigh-
teenth-century German theatre costumes were seen as far more important than
sets, with actors in many established theatres receiving a regular allowance for
costume materials and permanent companies holding a large stock for general use
(Miinz, 158; Klara, 1-3). In the nineteenth century, however, this balance was
tipped in the opposite direction, with ever greater portions of the production
budget being allotted to the overall concept including props, sets, and lighting,
with proportionally less for costumes. The eighteenth-century emphasis on cos-
tumes did not automatically result in harmonious costuming from the perspec-
tive of the entire work, for in most cases actors still chose their own costumes
from what was available in the general stock and in their own theatrical wardrobe.
To make matters worse, rehearsals (rarely more than one or two) were held with-
out costumes, and these were often chosen by die actors just shortly before the
performance, so that little time remained for adjustments (Miinz, 159,162). Natu-
rally, egocentricity and bad judgement came into play, but aside from a personal
confrontation with the director just before the curtain rose (which sometimes oc-
curred with positive results), not much could be done. We saw some curious ex-
amples of eclectic costuming in the reviews of chapter 4. Soon after Goethe
assumed control, this situation no longer obtained in Weimar.
Goethe was also heavily involved in set design, together with Georg Michael
Kraus, painter of the Adolar and Iphigenie/Orest pictures and Goethe's personal
drawing teacher in Weimar. Their alliance in the theatre was fixed through on-
going collaboration on scenic art, and we can still look at many of the back-
drops they created for Weimar productions, for example, Goethe's watercolour
for a backdrop to the opera "Die Saal-Nixe" (see Figure 22, p. 188). Kraus pro-
duced many paintings of Goethe sets and scenes on his own, and these give us
an overall idea of the pictorial harmony which Goethe attempted to achieve.'3
In Realizations, Martin Meisel asserts that "die play in the nineteenth century
is the evident meeting place of story and picture" (3). He sees in nineteenth-
century drama a revolution in presentation, dominated by a new type of drama-
turgy which rests not on action, but in "a moment of stasis, a picture. The play
creates a series of such pictures, some of them offering a culminating symbolic
summary of represented events, while others substitute an arrested situation for
action and reaction" (38). While acknowledging that European theatres before
the nineteenth century had strong pictorial elements, for example, in the scenery
and costumes, the difference in the nineteenth century is that the dramaturgy
itself became pictorial, not just the static elements. Meisel selects examples
largely from English theatre and painting, but much of what he says is applicable
to other countries as well, including Germany, and especially to Goethe in view

of his unusual dramaturgical emphasis on static elements, a subject I shall
explore further in chapter 8.
MANNHEIM
Most critics accord Goethe a unique position in the history of German dra-
matic production because of his development and direction of the Weimar
style. As a result, other stages with similar goals and a high level of aesthetic
achievement are sometimes overlooked or given short shrift. One could assess
Goethe's accomplishments by comparing them with those of other great the-
atres of the age, for example, in Berlin or Vienna, but for our purposes the ex-
ample of Mannheim, where our Goethe/Schiller manuscript originated, seems
the best case in point.'4 Several times during the preceding chapters reference
has been made to the accomplishments of the Mannheim stage, which is un-
usually extensively documented (Martersteig, Pichler, Walter, Sonnenfeld). The
precision and sophistication surrounding Mannheim productions from 1778 to
1803 are remarkable. With Wolfgang Heribert von Dalberg in charge and Abel
Seyler (1730-1801), Iffland, and then Dalberg himself directing performances,
there developed an extraordinary sense of artistic mission and teamwork
unmatched anywhere in German-speaking territory at the time. Some of
Pichler's appendices speak volumes for the quality of the Mannheim enter-
prise, the control of the direction, the cooperation of the actors, and the con-
structive contribution of all concerned. The "Theatergesetze der Mannheimer
Nationalbiihne" of 1780 are a noteworthy, succinct statement of this symbiosis
(Pichler, 321-3). From these it is clear that all involved had a say in setting the
repertoire well in advance; a responsibility to study and learn parts beforehand;
a responsibility to attend and contribute constructively to rehearsals; to discuss
and coordinate costumes with the director; to accept roles he deemed appropri-
ate; to keep to the text; and to behave professionally on stage in support of the
directors concept. Clearly the authority of this person was to be respected.
Conversely, both he (Seyler) and his overseer Dalberg had a written responsibil-
ity to all members of the company to engage in full and open discussion about
every aspect of these regulations. Martersteig's edition of the meetings at which
these discussions occurred is evidence of this unusually liberal and productive
interchange. There are numerous other documents on more specific aspects of
the theatrical activity there, including an astonishingly detailed "Kleidungsre-
glement" prepared by Iffland just after he became director in 1792 (Pichler,
331-38). From this it is evident that the theatre held an extensive reserve of cos-
tumes; that each actor received certain standard costume accoutrements; that
no changes were permitted without the written approval of the director several
days before the performance; and that costuming for a large selection of charac-
ter types and specific roles was set down by regulation with fine precision, for
example: "Die Aktrizen, welche in denen tiirkischen Rollen spielen, werden

ebenfalls in den ersten Rollen und nach Maafigabe der vorstehenden Ranges
[sic], besonders und unterscheidend prachtig gekleidet; die Vertrauten tragen
nicht Attlafi, kein Gold und Silber, keine Stickerei, nur eine Feder; keinen
Schmuck als Perlen; schmale Pelzbrame. Die Sclavinnen in Wolle, ohne
Schmuck und Feder" (Pichler, 333); or in die case of lead players:
In Altdeiitschen Stiicken, 1st fur erste Rollen, die erste Riicksicht zu nehmen, doch 1st es
unschicklich, wenn Ritter, die nicht Konige oder Fursten sind, anderen Schmuck tragen,
als die Huthschnur, und erwa eine Mantelagrafife. Steingiirtel gehoren nur in den regel-
losen Staat des Ballets, oder in orientalisches Kostiim. Die alten Deutschen trugen hoch-
stens den Degengriffbrilliantirt; und das nur bei Prachtgelagen. Ritterketten konnen nur
aufier den ersten Rollen - die sehr Alten, vom Stande tragen. Die Vertrauten konnen nur
eine Feder tragen, wenn ihr Stand sie nicht besonders distinguirt, und zwar nur
schwarze; die Diener weder Gold noch Silber, Wollenzeug und eine farbige Feder. (Pich-
ler, 334)
When Dalberg was in charge, such minutiae of costume and action were re-
spected and adhered to. These examples could easily be supplemented by citing
Walter at length on virtually every aspect of the theatre's artistic and business
operations. Not to be forgotten on the artistic side is the appearance of the sets,
the stage and the house, the props, the lighting, as well as the stage's mechanical
and technical capabilites. These are intricately and superbly described by Som-
merfeld, including (as appendices) many precise drawings of the stage and the-
atre themselves, as well as the sets, props, and blocking plans for numerous
productions. After he had left Mannheim for Berlin, Iffland reflected on
Mannheim's decline since Dalberg's resignation in 1803, noting a loss of control
and focus, negligence toward properties and costumes, and concluding: "Es
giebt eine Gattung Subordination, deren auch eine Kunsteinrichtung sich nicht
entziehen kann" (Pichler, 341). Friedrich Walter calls it an "aristokratische In-
tendanz" (i, 3). Indeed the success of Mannheim under Dalberg's leadership oc-
curred because everyone involved subordinated themselves to the regulations of
the theatre and to the judgement of one powerful person with a sense of the
overall goal. But it is just as important to add that these regulations and that
judgement were based on consultation and cooperation with those who were to
put the rules into practice on stage, not simply on one individual's aesthetic
vision. When looking at the Mannheim example, it is difficult to argue that
Goethe's achievement in Weimar was either unique or novel; unique and novel
was the way it was achieved. Unlike Mannheim, Weimar productions were fore-
most an expression of Goethe's vision and aesthetic concept, not those of a the-
atre consortium. Others became merely agents of his image of what the theatre
should be.
Figure 23
Flofibriicke (Naturbriicke) im Weimarer Park. Hintergrund - Goethes Gartenhaus.
Staffagefiguren: Charlotte und Fritz von Stein. 1776—9. Goethe. Charcoal and chalk. Femmel i,
#195. See p. 209.
Figure 24
Nachtliche Storung. Goethe. Pencil drawing. 1768/70. Copy of a work by Johann Ludwig
Ernst Morgenstern (1738-1819). Femmel i, #75. See p. 219.
Figure 25
Illustration zu Moliere: Le Malade

Imagmaire. Goethe. Pencil
drawing. Possibly copy of
Morgenstern work. 1768-70.
Femmel i, #76. See p. 219.
Figure 26
Rekrutenaushebung.
Goethe. Pen and pencil
drawing. 1779. Femmel i,
#307.
See p. 219.
Figure 27
Krankenzimmer. Goethe.
Pencil drawing. Perhaps copy of a
Morgenstern work. 1768-80.
Femmel i, #77. See p. 2,19.
Figures 28-30
Gruppenbildnisse einer Gesellschaft. Goethe. Pencil drawing. 1765-68. Femmel i, #31-33.

See p. 220.
Figure 31
Figurenskizze zu einem
Gruppenbildnis. Goethe.
1765-68. Femmel i, #34.
See p. 220.
Figure 32
Szene aus dem Hofleben.

Water-colour silhouette
(undated).
See p. 220.
Figure 33
Vielfigiirige Biihnenszene. Goethe. Pencil drawing. Ca. 1790, Femmel VIA, #125. See p. 221.
Figure 34
Design for Act v of Eginard. Goethe. Pen and sepia. 1808. Femmel VIA, #126. See p. 221.
Figure 35
Die Erkennung des Orestes durch Iphigenie. Johann Heinrich Wilhelm Tischbein (1751-1829).
Naples 1788 (undated). See p. ^^^.
Figure 36
Lady Hamilton in a Classical Attitude (u

Figure 37
Lady Hamilton as Thalia.

Copper etching. Raphael
Morghen (1758-1833) based on a
drawing by Gavinus Hamilton
(1723—98). Rome (undated).
See p. 223.
Figure 38
Miss Harte [Lady Hamilton]
as Sibylle. Tischbein
(undated).
See p. 223.
Figure 39
Karikatur auf hofisches

Theater. Watercolour drawing.
S. Trifft (?). Ca. 1800.
See p. 224.
Figure 40
Iphigenie auf Tauris,

i. Akt, i. Szene.
Schwerdgeburth after
Ramberg. Minerva 1827.
See p. 224.
8 Acting 3: Image in Society
Soon after arriving in Weimar in 1775, Goethe drew a picture showing Weimar's
river Ilm, which today still flows modestly through the municipal park, a stone's
throw from Goethe's impressive city house on the Frauenplan, from Frau von
Stein's, and from Schiller's nearby (see Figure 23, p. 2.00).' One passes the Anna
Amalia Library where Goethe served as director from 1797 to his last year, and
in a few steps reaches the park, the path winding down through the narrow
grotto of volcanic stone, over the small bridge still traversing the river, and
across the meadow to the little garden house in the background of the drawing.
Goethe's Gartenhaus remains, and around it are the gardens he planned, en-
joyed, and used for botanical experiments, the plants, the stones, the benches,
still waiting to serve their purpose. Standing at the spot today, the imagination
can drift back easily to Goethe's age and grasp the significance the setting had
for him. He made several more drawings like this one, and understandably,
for this path - across the park, over the bridge, and up to his garden house -
became more and more the way to the happy refuge of a man increasingly set
upon by the demands of civic and state affairs. Goethe loved the house and its
garden from the day he acquired it (21 April 1776) to the day he died, living
there happily with Christiane Vulpius and entertaining his closest friends.2
Femmel identifies the two characters on the right in the drawing as "Charlotte
und Fritz von Stein," as if on their way to pay him a visit, but their presence in
his picture points to a feature in the depiction that the modern visitor will not
see - the gate on the bridge. Goethe had this gate installed, indeed with a lock,
and much to the annoyance of others, such as Wieland, who was excluded, he
distributed keys only to a select few (Ahrendt, 15). This gate, the bridge, the im-
age in its entirety, tell the story of a man who became increasingly aloof as he
2io Images of Goethe through Schiller's Egmont
grew older, increasingly separated from the public, partly by necessity, partly by
inclination, a man with two lives, like his Egmont, a "Schauspieler" (Graham,
183). The picture is a symbolic depiction of Goethe's personal and psychological
predicament and shows his use of the visual arts as a reflection of his inner state,
a tendency we shall explore in this chapter.
ART AND LIFE
The conclusive writing phase for Egmont occurred during Goethe's Italian jour-
ney. Goethe set out from Karlsbad on 3 September 1786 and returned to Weimar
on 18 June ijSS.3 His correspondence between 1774 and September 1786 contains
references which show that he was hard at work on Egmont for this entire period,
having left for Italy with a partial manuscript. Communications with his princi-
pal collaborators, Philipp Christoph Kayser for the music (which he delivered
personally to Goethe in Rome),4 Angelika KaufFmann for the title page etching
(she was also with Goethe on part of the trip, WA i, 32,137/478.), Herder for pre-
publication criticism (WAi, 32,136-7), political approval from the Duke, all oc-
curred in Italy. Goethe's correspondence from the time contains dozens of
references to these individuals and to his work on the play.5 The purpose of the
Italian journey was to escape Weimar and immerse himself in classical culture
and art, in an entirely different landscape. The published "Paralipomena" to the
Italian Journey, summarizing Goethe's itinerary during the trip, make this clear
through a chart constructed of eleven parallel columns recording "Monat und
Feste ... Localitaten und Merkwiirdigkeiten ... Kunstwerke ... Kunstarbeiten ...
Kunstbetrachtungen ... Naturgegenstande ... Naturbetrachtungen ... Poetische
Arbeiten ... Personlichkeiten ... Zufalligkeiten ... Allgemeine Betrachtungen."
These show that, beside his own writing, art and nature were demonstrably the
main focuses of his activity and thought. He continued to write Egmont as he
travelled, and from June to September 1787 experienced four months of the most
intense writing on the play, thus bringing it to completion. "Egmont ist fertig!"
he wrote jubilantly to three different people at the end of this time.6
The "Paralipomena" contain the entries: "Reflexionen iiber Egmont... Ein-
wirkungen der bildenden Kunst auf Poesie ... Reflexionen iiber sich selbst"
(December 1787, WA I, 32, 487). Indeed, his writings and correspondence at the
time show repeated connections not just between Egmont and the visual arts,
but between these and his personal psychological state and place in society, in
other words not just physical images drawn or painted by himself and others,
but his self-image, his image in the eyes of others, and his image of mankind.
This was part of a process that had begun with the inception of Egmont',
Goethe's earliest mention of the play coming in I774-7 While from the corre-
spondence of the Italian journey he seems to have finished Egmont in Rome in
the early autumn of 1787, that was really just the end of the first of three phases.
Scholars have traditionally emphasized only the initial period, when Egmont was
in Image in Society
written, betraying their primary focus on the poetic text alone. The other two
are just as important for understanding the work itself and its place within
Goethe's development. The second phase began with the production failures in
Mainz, Frankfurt, and Weimar (1789 and 1791), and then there were seven years
of silence - virtually no correspondence or other reference to the play in
Goethe's writings8 - until 1796, when Schiller and Iffland came to the rescue.
Then references to Egmont returned, but as we know, the revision left Goethe
and many others uncomfortable. The third phase includes the decade surround-
ing the pivotal year 1810 when Beethoven's score was added, during which time
Goethe worked repeatedly at revising, directing, and producing the play, as both
correspondence and performance records show.9 At the end of this third phase,
forty years after he began Egmont, Goethe was able to look back in Dichtung
und Wahrheitvtith the increased understanding of maturity to describe the gen-
esis of the work and its connections to his own situation in life from its incep-
tion in 1774.10 Waiting in the carriage that would take him in to Weimar to
begin his service to the Duke in 1775, he was filled understandably with a mix-
ture of doubt, uncertainty, and hope for a new life, as marked decades later in
Egmont s words at the conclusion of Dichtung und Wahrheit: " Wie von unsicht-
baren Geistern gepeitscht, gehen die Sonnenpferde der Zeit mit unsers Schick-
sals leichtem Wagen durch, und uns bleibt nichts als, mutig gefafit, die Ziigel
festzuhalten und bald rechts, bald links, vom Steine hier, vom Sturze da, die
Rader wegzulenken. Wohin es geht, wer weifi es? Erinnert er sich doch kaum,
woher er kam!" (WA I, 29, 192; compare [80-1]) This attests to the enduring
importance of both the image of the "Sonnenpferd" and of Egmont in Goethe's
mind. The figure of the Regentin was also akin to his own in some ways, as he
put it in an early letter to Charlotte von Stein: "Geht mir auch wie Margreten
von Palma: ich sehe viel voraus das ich nicht andern kann" (Jan. 1776; WA iv, 3,
22). Goethe's self-identification with the character of Egmont continued through-
out these decades, and in a letter of 7 Nov. 1780 to Charlotte, the fifth anniver-
sary of his arrival in Weimar, Goethe again quotes directly from the play: "Ich
rekapituliere in der Stille mein Leben seit diesen 5 Jahren, und finde wunder-
bare Geschichten. Der Mensch ist doch wie ein Nachtganger. Er steigt die
gefahrlichsten Kanten im Schlafe" (WA iv, 5, i; compare [76]). The writing of
Egmont WAS for him at times even a substitute for Charlotte when propriety and
opportunity kept them apart: "Mein Egmont ist die einzige frohe Aussicht ...
das einzige was ich zwischen mein Verlangen zu dir einschieben kann dafi es mir
nicht schmerzlich wird" (20 March 1782; WA iv, 5, 283). By the time he had fin-
ished the play, acquaintances and friends were quick to draw parallels between
his stage characters and their author. Caroline Herder obviously savoured the
delicious titbit, intimated in a note to her husband: "Ich habe nun das Geheim-
nis von der Stein selbst, warum sie mit Goethe nicht mehr recht gut sein will.
Er hat die junge Vulpius zu seinem Clarchen, und lafit sie oft zu sich kommen
etc. Sie verdenkt ihm dies sehr. Da er ein so vorziiglicher Mensch ist, auch
schon vierzig Jahr alt 1st, so sollte er nichts tun, wodurch er sich zu den andern
so herabwiirdigt" (8 March 1789; Goethes Gespriichei, 471). How the "etc." must
have excited Frau Herder's imagination!
These self-references, supplemented by many others, broaden our under-
standing of Goethe's psychological and biographical identification with the play
and its protagonist. The link is personal and increasingly understandable within
the context of Goethe's political and social world. In entries in his journal dur-
ing the Italian journey he remarks on the connection between his play and the
current instability in Brussels: "Ich bin fleifiig, mein Egmont riickt sehr vor.
Sonderbar ist's, dafi sie eben jetzt in Briissel die Scene spielen, wie ich sie vor
zwolf Jahren aufschrieb, man wird vieles jetzt fur Pasquill halten" (Rome, 9 July
1787; WA i, 32, 31), and "Scenen in Briissel. Wirkliche Gegenbilder zu denen in
Egmont" (7 July 1787; i, 32, 477). Among many others, Conrady discusses the
actuality of the uprisings at this time in Brussels and rebellion of die Nether-
landers against Emperor Joseph n, arguing that Goethes apparent support for
the Netherlands is not a contradiction of his rejection of the French revolution,
since the latter was an attempt to overturn established rights and practices,
while the Dutch wanted to retain them; in both cases Goethe's position is polit-
ically conservative (478-9). Even near the end of his life Goethe was still engag-
ing his readers and spectators in private discussion of Egmont on this point, as
with Herrn H, to whom he said: "Ich schrieb den Egmont im Jahre 1775, also
vor funfig [sic] Jahren. Ich hielt mich sehr treu an die Geschichte und strebte
nach moglichster Wahrheit. Als ich darauf zehn Jahre spater in Rom war, las ich
in den Zeitungen, dafi die geschilderten revolutionaren Szenen in den Nieder-
landen sich buchstablich wiederholten. Ich sah daraus, da6 die Welt immer die-
selbige bleibt und dafi meine Darstellung einiges Leben haben mufite" (MA
xix, 122). Friedrich Sengle outlines the genesis of Egmont as an historical drama
and confidently summarizes in the context of Goethe's biography: "Soweit
die Entstehungsgeschichte des Werkes, zum Beweis, dass es kein blosses Cha-
rakterdrama ist, sondern eine sehr eigenartige und tiefe Verschmelzung bekennt-
nismassig-personlicher und historisch-nationaler Elemente" (36). However we
may assess Goethe's politics in this light, Egmont was a turning point for him as
he awaited the Duke's carriage to take him to Weimar in 1775, just as it reflected
a pivotal point in European history, as he explained from the distance of Dich-
tung und Wahrheit: "Nachdem ich im Gotz von Berlichingen das Symbol einer
bedeutenden Weltepoche nach meiner Art abgespiegelt hatte, sah ich mich nach
einem ahnlichen Wendepunct der Staatengeschichte sorgfaltig urn. Der Auf-
stand der Niederlande gewann meine Aufmerksamkeit"; and "Unter die einzel-
nen Theile der Weltgeschichte, die ich sorgfaltiger studirte, gehorten auch die
Ereignisse welche die nachher vereinigten Niederlande so beriihmt gemacht. Ich
hatte die Quellen fleifiig erforscht und mich moglichst unmittelbar zu unter-
richten und mir alles lebendig zu vergegenwartigen gesucht. Hochst dramatisch
waren mir die Situationen erschienen und als Hauptfigur, um welche sich die
213 Image in Society
iibrigen am gliicklichsten versammeln liefien, war mir Graf Egmont aufgefallen,

dessen menschlich ritterliche Grofie mir am meisten behagte" (WA i, 29, 162,
174-5). The first quotation reinforces the notion of the Brussels revolt as an his-
torical watershed, the second provides a link between that and Goethe's per-
sonal identification. He moulded this fictional character: "ich gab ihm die
ungemessene Lebenslust, das granzenlose Zutrauen zu sich selbst, die Gabe, alle
Menschen an sich zu ziehen (attrattiva) und so die Gunst des Volks, die stille
Neigung einer Fiirstin, die ausgesprochene eines Naturmadchens, die Theil-
nahme eines Staatsklugen zu gewinnen, ja selbst den Sohn seines grofiten Wi-
dersachers fur sich einzunehmen" (175). Much of this portrait was of Goethe
himself by the time he wrote it, also a man of great self-confidence, long a folk-
legend as a writer from his Sturm und Drang days, a confidant of upper class la-
dies, a lover of simpler women, and with a strong hand in state affairs.
From the earliest stages of Egmont, Goethe's personal relationships played a
prominent role. His father viewed his joining Duke Carl August's service in Wei-
mar with some scepticism, but at least as an escape from his somewhat unsatis-
factory past and an opportunity for responsible advancement in the future. It is
with mixed feelings that Goethe recalled in Dichtung und Wuhrheit his father's
encouragement to write on the Egmont theme, but also the intense pressure to
which he was subjected in doing so:
Meinen Vater hatte ich davon auf das lebhafteste unterhalten, was zu thun sei, was ich
thun wolle, da£ ihm diefi so uniiberwindliches Verlangen gab, dieses in meinem Kopf
schon fertige Snick auf dem Papiere, es gedruckt, es bewundert zu sehen. ... Ich fing also
wirklich Egmont zu schreiben an, und zwar nicht wie den ersten Gotz von Berlichingen
in Reih' und Folge, sondern ich griff nach der ersten Einleitung gleich die Hauptscenen
an, ohne mich um die allenfallsigen Verbindungen zu bekiimmern. Damit gelangte ich
weit, indem ich bei meiner laBIichen Art zu arbeiten von meinem Vater, es ist nicht iiber-
trieben, Tag und Nacht angespornt wurde, da er das so leicht Entstehende auch leicht
vollendet zu sehen glaubte. (i, 29,162-3)
As the play progressed, Goethe read excerpts to his father, revealing his assess-
ment of a parent with far more practical concerns on his mind than literary
merit: "so schrieb ich an meinem Egmont fort und brachte ihn beinahe zu
Stande. Ich las ihn meinem Vater vor, der eine ganz eigne Neigung zu diesem
Stuck gewann, und nichts mehr wiinschte, als es fertig und gedruckt zu sehen,
weil er hoffte, dafi der gute Ruf seines Sohnes dadurch sollte vermehrt werden"
(i, 29,182).
When he left for Weimar in 1775, the tension between paternal censure and
approval remained, but after the death of Goethe's father in 1780 the Duke in
effect replaced him. In light of its revolutionary content, the completed work
understandably required the approval of Goethe's master, to whom he sent the
finished manuscript with a mixture of subservience and trepidation. A series of
letters from Italy record the Duke's role. After sending him a copy of the com-
pleted work, Goethe wrote to him from Rome expressing the hope that the
ruler would find time to read it (8 Dec 1787; WA IV, 8, 305), and soon after that
His Highness would be pleased and find the time to respond (16 Feb. 1788; WA
iv, 8, 349). Not long after, Goethe received a grudging approval, and replied in
this way:
Ihr Brief, mein bester Fiirst und Herr, in welchem Sie mir Ihre Gedancken iiber Egmont
eroffnen, hat das Verlangen nur vermehrt mich mit Ihnen iiber solche und andre Gegen-
stande miindlich zu unterhalten. Bemerckungen wie die, welche Sie mir schreiben, sind
zwar fur den Autor nicht sehr trostlich, bleiben aber doch dem Menschen ausserst wich-
tig und wer beyde in sich nie getrennt hat weifi solche Erinnerungen zu schatzen und zu
nutzen. Einiges was Ihnen nicht behagte liegt in der Form und Constitution des Stiicks
und war nicht zu andern ohne es aufzuheben. Andres z.B. die Bearbeitung des ersten
Ackts, hatte mit Zeit und Mufie wohl nach Ihren Wiinschen geschehen konnen. Noch
andres, wie z.B. die Aufierung Machiavellens, war mit einem Federstrich ausgeloscht."
Es war ein schweres Unternehmen, ich hatte nie geglaubt es zu vollenden, nun steht das
Stuck da, mehr wie es seyn konnte als wie es seyn sollte.
Gewifi auch konnte kein gefahrlicherer Leser fur das Snick seyn als Sie. Wer selbst auf
dem Punckte der Existenz steht um welchen der Dichter sich spielend dreht, dem kon-
nen die Gauckeleyen der Poesie, welche aus dem Gebiet der Wahrheit ins Gebiet der
Luge schwanckt weder genug thun, weil er es befier weifi, noch konnen sie ihn ergotzen,
weil er zu nah steht und es vor seinem Auge kein Ganzes wird. Doch alles sey auf die gu-
ten Stunden aufgespart, die ich mir neben Ihnen verspreche. (28 March 1788; WA I, 8,
365-6)
With this self-deprecating diplomatic response Goethe was able to breathe a

sigh of relief. He had succeeded in gaining the approval of his enlightened, al-
beit all-powerful, aristocratic ruler for a work whose protagonist essentially con-
demned aristocratic abuse of the social hierarchy.12 Here are some of the lines
the Duke had read:
EGMONT. 1st des Konigs Gunst ein so schmaler Grund?

ORANIEN. So schmal nicht, aber schliipfrig [105],
and,
EGMONT. Wie selten kommt ein Konig zu Verstand. ... ich kenne meine Landsleute. ...
zu driicken sind sie, nicht zu unterdriicken [216].
ALBA. [217] der sich indefi einigemal umgesehen hat Solltest du das alles in des Konigs
Gegenwart wiederhohlen?
EGMONT. Desto schlimmer, wenn mich seine Gegenwart abschreckte! desto besser fur
ihn, fur sein Volck, wenn er mir Muth machte, noch mehr zu sagen.
Beyond the hurdle of the Duke, Goethe had the general public to consider.
After Egmont reached readers' hands in 1788 and the eyes and ears of theatre
audiences in 1789, he took a lively part in discussing the play. He showed an
obvious concern about - and an obvious sensitivity to - others' opinions of it.
His public image in connection with Egmontwas evidently important to him. To
his devoted servant Philipp Friedrich Seidel (1755—1820) he wrote from Rome,
"so wird doch schon dieses Stuck hinreichend seyn, das Publicum zu iiberzeu-
gen, dafi ich noch bey Sinnen bin" ([8 Dec 1787]; WA iv, 8, 308). He expressed
to Friedrich Heinrich Jacobi (1743-1819) and Charlotte's husband Heinrich
Friedrich Carl von Stein (1757-1831) his pleasure that they liked the play (21 July
and 16 Nov. 1788; WA iv, 9, 4 and 59) and similarly to Carl Ludwig von Knebel
(1744-1834): "Ich ho're von fern, und kann es ohne das vermuthen daft mein Eg-
mont in alle Welt ausgangen ist. Ich wiinsche dafi er auch gedruckt meinen Fre-
unden Freude mache, die ihm, da er als Manuscript kam eine gute Aufnahme
gonnten" (24 May 1788; WA iv, 8, 376). To Anton von Klein (1748-1810), who
had engaged a performance of Iphigenie at his residence and commented posi-
tively on Egmont, he wrote effusively: "Ich wufoe langst welch ein unpartheyis-
cher Beurdieiler, und welch ein nachsichtsvoller Richter fremder Produktionen
Sie sind, weshalb es nicht anmafilich von mir war, Ihrer giitigen Theilnahme an
meinem poetischen Wirken mich versichert zu halten. ... Was Sie iiber meinen
Egmont sagen ist ganz richtig, und unterschreibe ich in Allem Ihren Ausspruch"
(17 April 1789; WA iv, 18, 36-7). Finally, in a lengthy commentary on several
letters from Weimar in 1788, Goethe wrote an extensive response to objections
about the play's structure, length, and especially about the treatment of
Klarchen, which he defended vigorously, even citing Angelika Kauffmann upon
whom he called for support from the female point of view (WA\, 32,179-81).
Goethe's sensitivity reached a peak once again, when Egmont was performed in
Schiller's adaptation in 1796. Writing to Charlotte von Kalb, he expressed his
pleasure that she had attended the performance die previous evening, and seems
delighted by her praise: "Von Ihrem herzlichen Antheil an der gestrigen
Auffuhrung war ich iiberzeugt und ich freute mich, Sie gegenwartig zu wissen. ...
Leben Sie recht wohl und haben Sie tausend Danck fur Ihr freundliches Wort"
([26 April 1796]; WA iv, n, 58). Yet it is uncertain whether or not Goethe at-
tended die premiere of Schiller's adaptation at all, and hence uncertain whether
he ever personally witnessed Schiller's adjustments, especially his scene with the
masked and demasked Alba. De la Motte-Fouque claims that in a conversation
with him in die winter of 1813 Goethe said he did not see die performance:
"Zufallig war ich damals just in Ilmenau" (28-9). Near die end of his life he
claimed to Eckermann that he had lost interest in Egmont and was simply too
busy with other things. When Eckermann suggested that he had perhaps given
Schiller too much of a free hand, Goethe replied: "Man ist oft gleichgiiltiger als
billig. ... Und dann war ich in jener Zeit mit anderen Dingen tief beschaftigt. Ich
hatte so wenig ein Interesse fur Egmont wie fur das Theater; ich liefS ihn
g e w a h r e n . J e t z t i s t e s we n i g s t e n s e i n T r o s t f u r mi c h , d a f i d a s S t i c g e w a h r e n . J e t z t i s t e s we n i g s t e n s e i n T r o s t f u r mi c h , d a f i d a s S t i c k g e d r u c k t k g e d r u c k t
dasteht, und dafi es Biihnen gibt, die verstandig genug sind, es treu und oh
Verkiirzung ganz so aufzufiihren wie ich es geschrieben" (MA xix, 290). Al-
though his correspondence and other writings show that he was little concerned
with Egmont between 1791 and 1796, as we have seen, it is difficult to imagine that
Goethe would miss such a premiere. Schiller wrote to him on April 21, "Montag
[25.] abends, noch voll und trunken von der Reprasentation des 'Egmont', sehen
wir uns wieder" (Graf n, i, 304). Goethe entertained friends at home on die eve-
nings of April 22, 23, and 24, and wrote a letter from there on 25 April 1796
(Steiger, 459), but none of this proves his presence at the premiere. The uncer-
tainty itself shows something about his character. If he was in fact in Ilmenau,
then he deliberately missed Schiller's adaptation. Was it too upsetting to see his
work distorted? Was he made so uncomfortable by its corruption? Was he so of-
fended by die changes he knew Schiller had made that he could not bring himself
to watch them? But Goethe had agreed to cooperate with Schiller and had wel-
comed his contribution from the start. The answers to any of these questions cast
Goethe either as an artist whose aesthetic sensitivity was so delicate that he could
not bear to have it offended, or as a man so arrogant that he could not risk expe-
riencing another's success where he had failed. Or was he simply no longer inter-
ested at all? To be entirely fair, in the end we cannot base a conclusion on a source
such as De la Motte-Fouque alone, who may himself be in error. We simply do
not know if Goethe saw the premiere or not.
With regard to specific connections between these personal experiences and
the visual arts, we can return to the same entry from the "Paralipomena" to the
Italienische Reise: "Reflexionen iiber Egmont ... Einwirkungen der bildenden
Kunst auf Poesie ... Reflexionen iiber sich selbst" (December 1787, WA i, 32,
487). There are two ways in which we can understand the phrase "Einwirkun-
gen der bildenden Kunst auf die Poesie," both revealed through this more de-
tailed excerpt from the Paralipomena for the months June to September 1787:
Poetische Arb.: Egmont angegr. / Scenen in Briissel. Gegenbilder zu den Egmontischen.

Egmont vierter Act. / Egmont fertig / Egmont abgeschlossen. Zeich. Angelikas zu Egm.
(^1,31,485)
Kunstwerke.: Raphaels Teppiche. Gem. des Volterra. Gallerie Colonna. / Moors Werke.
Die Farnesine. Torso des Apoils. Chev. D'Azincourt. Archit. Arbeiten. Gemmen Sam-
mlung des H v. Piombino / Aldobrandini Gallerie. Leonh. da Vinci an der Tages Ordn.
Sixtinische Cap. Ritter Worthley. Egypten und Griechen. Ausstellung der Fr. Academic.
/ Egyptische Gegenst. Obelisken. Zeich. des Casas. Abdr. v. Gemmen.
Kunstarbeiten. Verschaffelt lehrt Persp. Menschl. Figur. / Practische Einzelhn. (i, 32,484)
Personlichkeiten. ... Tischb. reist nach Neap. (WAi, 32, 485)
The list of "Kunstwerke" points to the fact that Goethe's involvement with art as
an observer and critic was astonishingly intense during the critical months of his
completing Egmont. As observer, he witnessed and discussed thousands of pieces

of art, which is also evident from the March 1787 section of the Italienische Reise,
where frequent meetings with artists and discussions of paintings are described (i,
31,18-84). Valerian Tornius was probably the first scholar to write in detail about
Goethe's concept of theatre and the visual arts (1912). His discussion includes
Goethe's own drawings and paintings, and the realization that any talent he had
in this sphere was at least matched by inadequacies. Tornius concludes that
Goethe's impulse to draw and paint became transferred to the stage as a result
(196—7) and that Goethe's theatre praxis can only be understood in light of the vi-
sual arts (197 and 204). This includes Goethe's understanding of the relationship
between art and nature (198) and the harmonious "Gesamtbild" (203) in the the-
atre, but while Tornius is able to present a number of convincing examples of die
influence of specific visual artists on Goethe and his stage productions, he la-
ments at the same time: "Leider ist das auf uns gekommene Material sehr spar-
lich, so dafi sich der Einflufi der bildenden Kiinste nicht immer dokumentarisch
feststellen lafit" (207). Tornius does not mention Christian Schuchardt's three
volumes, Goethe's Kunstsammlungen (1848—49), which give a clear idea of the
thousands of drawings and paintings Goethe possessed.13 Tornius makes no spe-
cific reference to Egmont, but later scholars have made the argument that Ange-
lika Kauffmann's classic drawing of Egmont and Klarchen (Figure 14) should be
seen in conjunction with his study of art works in Italy at the time. Even before
Tornius, Richard Meyer (1905) had called attention to the strong connections be-
tween Egmont and Goethe's Italian journey, arguing that Egmont should be seen
as one of a select triumvirate, along with Ifhigenie and Tasso, uniquely linked to
the Italian experience. More recently, Miller and Reinhardt have concluded that
the Klarchen scenes were indeed composed in Italy, and we know that this is
where Kauffmann produced her famous drawing (MA in, i, 8206). They are
only two of the most recent scholars to write extensively on the connection be-
tween Egmont and Goethe's Italian experience, and Reinhardt has also paid con-
siderable attention to it in his Egmont article. While the connections Miller and
Reinhardt make between Egmont and Goethe's Italian experience are generally
well founded, their suggestion that the image of Klarchen descending on a cloud
as an allegory of peace be linked to similar Raffaelian images goes too far. The
Christ figure in the clouds of Raffael's "Transfiguration," one example of many
such works (see reproduction in Gores, 72), is obviously similar to Schadow's de-
piction of Klarchen in the vision scene (Figure 10), but Miller and Reinhardt are
too caught up in that one example. That picture was Schadow's creation not Go-
ethe's, and thus a connection between Schadow and Italian renaissance painting
is more to the point. On the other hand I can support Miller and Reinhardt's re-
jection of the romantic theorist Adam Miiller's (1779-1829) interpretation of this
image as a Christian representation of heavenly ascension (MA n, i, 832).
The "Paralipomena" entry, "Kunstarbeiten," also directs us to another way in
which we can understand the "Einwirkungen der bildenden Kunst auf die
2i8 Images of Goethe through Schiller's Egmont
Poesie," that is, the interrelationship between Goethe's own production of vi-
sual works and his writing. In his 1788 review of Egmont, Schiller used the word
"Gemalde" with reference to individual scenes and the structure of the play:
"Hier ist keine hervorstechende Begebenheit, keine vorwaltende Leidenschaft,
keine Verwickelung, kein dramatischer Plan, nichts von dem allem; - eine
blofie Aneinanderstellung mehrerer einzelnen Handlungen und Gemalde, die
beinahe durch nichts als durch den Charakter zusammengehalten werden, der
an alien Anteil nimmt, und auf den sich alle beziehen" (Nationalausgabexx.ii,
200). Goethe made a similar comment later when contrasting Egmont with
Gotz: "ich griff nach der ersten Einleitung gleich die Hauptscenen an, ohne
mich um die allenfallsigen Verbindungen zu bekiimmern" (Dichtung und Wahr-
heit, 4, 9; WA i, 29, 163). Miller and Reinhardt also discuss this attribute and
Goethe's so-called "Sinnbildstil" (MA m, I, 819/827.)
GOETHE'S DRAWINGS
Goethe's production of visual works during the Italian journey, and indeed
throughout his life, is recorded in Femmel's Corpus. It includes many drawings of
theatres, theatre architecture, and performances, and although the subject index
to several of the volumes contains many references to "Theater," this index is far
from complete, for some drawings clearly related to theatre are not listed there
and the list could be even longer.14 The chronological organization of Femmel's
work provides a ready overview of drawings by Goethe in the period of the Ital-
ian journey, the focus of volumes one and two, as well as their possible connec-
tion to his writings. One can see at a glance, for example, that the many
landscapes Goethe drew in Italy (virtually all of volume two) are very similar to
the stage backdrops he painted for the theatre, as in the Saal-Nixe set shown in
chapter 8 (Figure 22). Femmel has appropriately used such descriptors as "Blick
auf eine Biihne ... Theaterprospekt ... Gefangnisszene ... Biihnenprospekt ...
Masken ... Dekorationsentwurf... Biihnenbild ... Vielfigurige Biihnenszene ...
Gesprach am Fenster" for drawings related to general unidentified theatre sets
and scenes; others are connected to specific roles and performances, for example
"Hexenszene aus Macbeth" (i, #302), "Hexenszene aus Faust" (VIB, #216), "Biih-
nenbild fur Zauberflote Erstauffuhrung" (IVB, #210), "Figurengruppe zu Jeri
und Bately" (IVB, #212), "Biihnenbilder zu Faust" (IVB, #222-31), "Theater-
maske — Erwin und Elmire" (VIA, #96—97), "Dekoration v Aufzug von Eginard"
(VIA, #126), and "Theaterprospekt zu Shakespeares Romeo und Juliet" (VIA,
#128). A concentration of drawings relating to Goethe's early plays is noticeable
(Faust, Jeri und Bately, Erwin und Elmire), and although no drawing relates
specifically to Egmont, the connection between some of its scenes and drawings
from the same period seems likely. For example, "Gesprach am Fenster"
(i, #227), "Gefangnisszene" (i, #308) and "Kerkerraum" (i, #78) are from this
time.15 Other drawings show Goethe's interest in theatre construction and archi-
tecture, both in general terms, such as "Theaterbau" and "Theaterfassade, Grun-

drifi, Querschnitt" (VIA, #175-7), °r specifically, as with several antique theatres
which he saw during his Italian journeys (for example, #3, 32, 50) and a "Theater,
Grundrifi und Querschnitt" (IVB, #130).
Many other pictures have no obvious connection with the theatre in a formal
sense, but are nevertheless just as theatrical or dramatic as those that do. Re-
membering the blending of role depiction in acting and society discussed in
chapter 6 (Figures 17-19), it is instructive to compare examples of Goethe's
drawings not identified with scenes in specific dramatic works with others that
are. Looking at Figures 24-7, without knowing which are related to a specific
play and which are not, could anyone guess which is which (see Figures 24-2.7,
pp. oo)? Is any of these less or more dramatic than the others? Figure 24 is a de-
tailed pencil drawing of a nocturnal intrusion, drawn by Goethe about 1768-
70, in which soldiers burst into a sleeping chamber to take a woman into cus-
tody, causing obvious alarm to the prisoner herself and her servant lower right,
as seen by their body positions and extreme gestures. Figure 25 is a pencil draw-
ing showing a social group with more than one focus of interest and action,
from card playing to reading, and in the centre, with back turned, is a dominant
figure, apparently reading from a scroll which must affect them all. Figure 26 is
a pencil and pen and ink drawing of 1779 depicting the contemporary practice
of pressing recruits into military service through a combination of bribery and
force. While this is the overall theme, there are four points of dramatic action -
the waiting guard lower left, the father being consoled and compensated (centre
rear), die young man being measured and categorized (centre right), and the
distraught mother being forced from the scene, lower right. This drawing also
exhibits a wealth of examples in which body position, gestures, and even facial
expressions (especially the mother's) illustrate the action. The drawing is distin-
guished further by its depth of focus, what filmmakers would call "deep focus,"
with concurrent action at the front of the scene (soldiers, mother), further back
at the middle (recruit), and at the deepest part of the set (father). Figure 27 is
again a pencil drawing, this time with a silent drama unfolding among a group
of people surrounding a sickbed. Here it is less the action in the scene than the
significance of the situation that is dramatic, the passively waiting figure sug-
gesting a general gloom and impending death. From the drawings themselves it
is difficult, if not impossible, to say which represents a specific scene of a dra-
matic work. Interestingly, as obvious from the title (I was tempted to withhold
it), only Figure 25 is related to a specific dramatic action, yet it is arguably the
least dramatic of the four. The question is, what is a dramatic scene and what is
not? In terms of what we can see from Goethe's drawings, the line separating
the two is blurred, in other words, the drama of the stage blends with the drama
of life and vice versa.
The series of pencil and pen-and-ink sketches "Gruppenbildnisse einer
Gesellschaft" (Femmel I, #31—4, dated 1765—68) illustrates the point more
precisely. Figure 28 shows first how the teenaged Goethe represented a social
grouping of ladies and gendemen seated in a slighdy curved row, a physical ar-
rangement with a centre depth appropriate for viewing on a stage (see Figure 28,
p. oo). The soft curve provides an underlying stucture for the geometric balance
and symmetry of this grouping. Although incompletely sketched, each figure
has distinct physical characteristics, and the various poses — the tilt of the head,
the position of body, legs, and arms — show a variety of relationships between
the characters and suggest numerous interactions occurring at the same time.
The numbers above and below the characters and the changes we observe in the
next version of die scene (Figure 29) show the artist's experimenting with the
dynamics of the grouping (see Figure 29, p. oo): Here, the fundamental shape,
constellation, and situation are the same as before, but now the number of char-
acters has been reduced from ten to six. Each of these characters clearly has her
or his forerunner in Figure 28, but some positions have changed relative to the
others and some poses are altered to show a changed relationship with the other
characters. For example, the gendeman at the far right in Figure 28 has now
changed places with his neighbour to the left there. The gentleman on the far
left, an outsider looking in in Figure 28, now seems to have given up on his
neighbours and is propping up his head in tired boredom. This is a new dra-
matic scene, but the same social and physical one as before. Figure 30 shows a
further stage of the process toward the dramatization of the grouping (see Fig-
ure 30, p. oo): The fundamental shape, constellation, and situation are still the
same as before, but with a new character added, die servant on the left. The
seated group seems at first glance to have been reduced from six to five, but not
so. One character has been moved - the gendeman on the left in Figures 28 and
29 is found now in the right foreground, creating a tightening of the curve to-
wards the centre and making it almost a circle. This seems at first to be a struc-
tural turning away from the viewer, but on closer inspection this is not so, for as
demonstrated by the inset detail in die right margin of Figure 30, and die single
figure study of Figure 31, this gentleman is actually turned to the viewer of the
scene (see Figure 31, p. oo). He is physically in the social circle with the others,
but mentally separated from it. Through his reaction to what occurs in die cir-
cle he is a potentially active link to the audience. The detail of him inserted in
the right margin of Figure 30 and the separate sketch of him in Figure 31 dem-
onstrate that for the artist he was the key figure. Finally, Figure 30 is the first of
the three to contain a background suggestive of room decoration or a theatrical
set. At the time Goethe was in fact planning a drama on the interrelationships
of court life, a plan which never came to fruition. A silhouette in Goethe's col-
lection by an unknown artist, depicting four ladies of the Weimar court, can be
linked direcdy to this plan (see Figure 32, p. oo): This series of Figures 28-32
showed that even as a teenager, consciously or not, Goethe was drawing social
scenes which were at the same time essentially dramatic and theatrical. If we
jump ten years, they become more detailed and sophisticated, as seen in the ex-
22i Image in Society
amples of the nocturnal scene, forced conscription, social grouping, and sick-
bed, all of which stem from the late seventies when Goethe's dramatic produc-
tion moved into full swing. As he became more actively involved in theatre life
and production, many drawings became more specifically related to diat sphere,
but had their roots in those of earlier years. For example, like the social scenes
just discussed, Figure 33 shows a physical arrangement of characters in a slightly
curved row falling away at the centre, the soft curve again providing an underly-
ing structure and symmetry (see Figure 33, p. 2,04). The costuming and back-
round strongly suggest a theatrical set, though the drawing is not specifically
identified as such. Compositional similarities link it to Figure 34 (see Figure 34,
p. 204): The soft curve is now intensified to create a full sense of stage depth,
the set filling the scene from front to back, encasing and reinforcing its dimen-
sionality. This pen and sepia drawing was, in fact, produced by Goethe as a de-
sign for Act 5 of the tragic fragment Eginard.
ART AND SOCIETY
One of Goethe's intimate social circle on the Italian journey was the artist Jo-
hann Heinrich Wilhelm Tischbein (1751-1829), who also painted the famous oil
"Goethe in der Campagna di Roma" and the drawing "Goethe am Fenster der
romischen Wohnung am Corso," both from the same period 1786/87, and who
acted as Goethe's teacher in the practice and history of art.17 In the excerpt from
the "Paralipomena" above, we read "Personlichkeiten. ... Tischb. reist nach
Neap," and Tischbein's new location in Naples was to prove rewarding in an
entirely different way for both himself and Goethe, for even though he left
Goethe's company in Rome, he remained in close contact through letters and
drawings, as Goethe describes:
Wenn wir Tischbeins Gegenwart und EinfluS vermifiten, so hielt er uns dagegen dutch
sehr lebendige Briefe moglichst schadlos. Aufier manchen geistreich aufgefafiten wunder-
lichen Vorfallen und genialen Ansichten erfuhren wir das Nahere durch Zeichnung und
Skizze von einem Gemahlde, mit welchem er sich daselbst hervorthat. In halben Figuren
sah man darauf Oresten, wie er am Opferaltar von Iphigenien erkannt wird, und die ihn
bisher verfolgenden Furien soeben entweichen. Iphigenie war das wohlgetroffene Bildnif?
der Lady Hamilton, welche damals auf dem hochsten Gipfel der Schonheit und des
Ansehens glanzte. Auch eine der Furien war durch die Ahnlichkeit mit ihr veredelt, wie
sie denn uberhaupt als Typus fur alle Heroinen, Musen und Halbgottinnen gelten
mufoe. Ein Kiinstler, der dergleichen vermochte, war in dem bedeutenden geselligen
Kreise eines Ritter Hamilton sehr wohl aufgenommen. (i, 32, 53—4)
The passage provides insights into the relationships between die work of visual
artists, such as Tischbein, and Goethe's social circle at the time. Although his
presence is missed and his letters enjoyed, one mode of communication between
2Z2 Images of Goethe through Schiller's Egmont
the absent artist and Goethe's circle was Tischbeins sketches and drawings. These
were in turn stages toward the striking oil entitled "Die Erkennung des Orestes
durch Iphigenie," depicting Iphigenie, Orest, and the furies (see Figure 35,
p. oo): The theme of die painting is meaningful in several ways. It is a popular,
conventional subject of the age, and relates to Goedie's own success in acting the
scene with Corona Schroter at the Weimar Liebhaberdieater (Figure 21), but also
to a social rage caused by the mystique of a renowned beauty, a fascination that
has even penetrated our own century as witnessed by That Hamilton Woman, a
feature film starring Laurence Olivier and Vivian Leigh (1941, Alexander Korda,
director). "Iphigenie war das wohlgetroffene BildniK der Lady Hamilton," writes
Goethe, as if this fictional character of text and stage has been transformed into
the model used to represent her, rather than the reverse, adding that one of the
furies behind is even ennobled by a resemblance to this image of a classical hero-
ine, muse, or goddess. Through Goethe's description, the significance of the his-
torical, mythical, and dramatic scene takes second place behind his glorification
of the idealized Lady Hamilton "auf dem hochsten Gipfel der Schonheit und des
Ansehens." Goethe's final sentence — "Ein Kunstler, der dergleichen vermochte,
war in dem bedeutenden geselligen Kreise eines Ritter Hamilton sehr wohl auf-
genommen" - demonstrates his distinct approval of the fact diat Tischbeins
ability to transfer the historical, mythical, and dramatic legacy to the real figure
of Lady Hamilton was a guaranteed entrance to that social circle, that "bedeu-
tenden geselligen Kreis," in Goethe's own words. Through the visual arts, stage
characters became a currency for admission to desirable social spheres.
The phenomenon of Lady Hamilton requires some amplification. Emma
Hamilton (1761-1815), born Lyon, also called herself Hart and was dubbed
"Miss Arte." She was the second wife of the Englishman Sir William Hamilton
(1730-1803) and for some years concurrently lover of the renowned British naval
hero Admiral Horatio Viscount Nelson (1758-1805). Sir William was an avid art
collector, spending much of his time in Italy, and at the same time enjoying the
social intercourse of the intellectual and artistic society there. One of their cul-
tural diversions was to observe such women as Lady Hamilton assuming classi-
cal poses in costume. Lady Hamilton was celebrated for her tableaux-vivants, a
series of dramatic poses in Greek garb, Niobe, Nymphe, Iphigenie, and Sibylle,
for example. The poses became known as "Attitiiden" and the popularity of
viewing them as a sociocultural event became widespread in Italy and other
parts of Europe. During his Italian journey, Goedie met Emma Hart in Naples
(1787) at Lord Hamilton's residence and saw her in a series of poses in Greek
attire.
In Realizations, Martin Meisel refers at length to just one German dramatist.
In a chapter on Thackeray and Goethe, he writes, "the most complete artist-
philosopher of the age crossed the track of Lady Hamilton at least once, and
that of Vanity Fair several times. For one thing, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
anticipated by thirty years Thackeray's use in fiction of the conjunction of the
2.23 Image in Society
theatrical and the pictorial in tableaux vivants" (340). Meisel links "attitudes"
and the tableaux vivants presented by Lucinde and Ottilie in the WMverwand-
schaften to specific paintings, as Goethe had intended (343-6), and discusses
their influence on Thackeray, who visited Goethe in Weimar in 1830 and 1831
and translated some of his works. But Meisel makes no reference to Goethe's
dramaturgy in general and the role the notion such static figures had in his over-
all aesthetic concept for theatre. He might well have done so.
Figures 36 and 37 (pp. oo, oo) show two examples of how Lady Hamilton
looked. Figure 36 shows her in a general classical attitude, while Figure 37 shows
her in much the same pose, but this time identified as Thalia (the work was in
Goethe's personal art collection, Schuchardt 214, #4). A third example demon-
strates how the artistic depiction of such poses was transferred to the sphere of
dramatic literature. Figure 38 (p. oo) is an upper-body oil portrait of Lady
Hamilton as the prophetess Sibylle, a depiction which was appropriated by Tis-
chbein and integrated into "Iphigenie erkennt den Orest" (Figure 35 above), the
subject of his letters just discussed. The similarity between Sibylle's face, her
glance, even her head garb, and Tischbein's Iphigenie leave no doubt about the
source;'8 and as Goethe suggested in his praise of Lady Hamilton above, it looks
as if the same face served as a model for the fury to the left of Orest s head as
well.
In "Antike als Gesellschaftsspiel," Hannelore Schlaffer discusses the social sig-
nificance of the eighteenth-century German passion for antiquity, performing
something like an autopsy of classicism..Through the examples of Tischbeins
and Friedrich Rehberg's (1758-1835) drawings of classical poses inspired by the
antiquities in Sir William Hamilton's collection, Schlaffer demonstrates a cul-
tural transfer from the foreign artefact to the bourgeois world of German fash-
ion. It was clear that the public's fascination for the attitudes of Lady Hamilton
and others was by no means purely aesthetic. One of the most famous posers or
"Attituden-Darstellerinnen" was the one-time Berlin actress, Johanna Henriette
Rosine Hendel-Schiitz (1772—1849), who, when her acting career was endangered
by her inability to remember her lines, took up the new profession of "Attitiiden-
Darstellerin" and gained fame through international tours across Europe. Her
audiences were largely men who marvelled at her changing poses and fine figure,
and SchlafFer clearly views this performance as little more than a peep-show in
artistic guise. In 1795 the Journal des Luxus und der Moden, one of the most
widely read magazines of the day, published an article by Carl August Bottiger on
these drawings and poses, the same Bottiger who worked closely with Goethe at
the Weimar theatre and described Iffland's Weimar performances in 1796, claim-
ing them to be models of bearing and comportment for German women (Schlaf-
fer, 298-9). Kraus was coeditor of the Journal.'9 On one level it was a respectable
and serious review of artistic and social issues, containing theatre reviews, opin-
ion pieces, and articles of literary and journalistic quality. But the journal was
also an organ for gossip and fashion. Theatre reviews frequently focussed on
costumes, particularly those of the women, making it clear that these actresses
were not only figures of artistic and aesthetic interest, but fashion trendsetters as
well. The Journal des Luxus und der Moden shows that what was happening on
the Weimar stage had meaning well beyond the level of the purely artistic and
aesthetic; it had an underlying social significance beyond the content of the
works performed. Goethe's line, drawn at die proscenium between the ideal aes-
thetic harmony on the Weimar stage and the audience beyond, was a fiction. In
fact, the audience was appropriating that vision for entirely different ends.
A watercolour from Goethe's private collection illustrates more accurately the
focus of much of their attention (see Figure 39, p. oo): This is a caricature of the
court around 1800 showing, on the right side, a chaotic theatre performance led
by the comic figure Hanswurst and attended with great enthusiasm by an audi-
ence made up of common folk and soldiers. On the left is a private, more re-
fined "artistic" performance, attended by members of the upper bourgeoisie
and the court. The caption reads,
Mir Traumt sie haben Comedia gspielt

Die Narren mit Geld sich den Hut angfullt
War lustig zu Schaun.
Die Andern was Gscheiters seynd gangen zu horen
Konnten vor Schlaf nicht die Augen aufspern
Drob wollte mirs Graun.
The language is clearly "wienerisch," but the situation had a significance far
wider than that court milieu, and one that reached as far as Weimar, where it
obviously tickled Goethe's fancy. The verses make clear the contrast between
popular and elevated performances, but while their thrust is mainly to satirize
the latter, there is more to say than just that. Unlike the play on the right side,
the three female performers on the left have no apparent dramatic context — but
does their audience really care? What they do have are their classical costumes,
softly falling, revealing ample shapeliness to a largely male audience.20 How far
is it from such a picture to this contemporary drawing (see Figure 40, p. oo):
This shows shows not just any woman in classical costume, but Iphigenie in her
familiar shoreline stance, gazing towards her homeland. How much of the poet-
ics and how much of the physical allure contributed to the impression made by
this picture on Goethe and his contemporaries? The same question could be
asked of course of other stage characters at the time, and lest the argument be
skewed entirely to the female side, the reader might wish to glance once again at
Tischbein's undeniably erotic depiction of Orest (Figure 35), or even recall
Kraus's painting of Goethe himself in the role (Figure 21).
Figure 41
Egmont. Schauspielhaus, Frankfurt 1986.
9 Goethe and Egmont Today:
Stage and Screen
E G M O N T ON STAGE 1832-1969
The reception of Egmont during Goethe's lifetime was primarily as a stage work. It
is useful to remember this fact since by the early decades of our century the jug-
gernaut of literary criticism had successfully deflected this emphasis on perfor-
mance to the discussion of Egmont as dramatic literature. Recent literary studies of
Goedie and Egmont pay more attention to die contemporary reception of audi-
ences, but there exists no detailed analysis of its performance since the 19205. In
chapter 4 we eavesdropped on those who saw performances in Goethe's lifetime.
The second major period in Egmont's stage life carried it through the nineteenth
century and the First World War, for most of which time it was treated primarily
as a stage work, as summarized by Eugen Kilian's Goethes Egmont aufder Biihne
(1925). An experienced and accomplished theatre man, and chief director of the
Munich Hoftheater from 1908 to 1916, Kilian represented a generation of experts
who understood the play's theatrical strengths and weaknesses. After an historical
overview of its genesis and contemporary performance, act by act and scene by
scene, with reference to productions on a large number of German stages since
Goethe's time, Kilian provides a detailed description of how Egmont could, and in
his view should, be performed. His feelings are often strong, with no sympathy for
philistines' whims or preferences; when discussing Beethoven's score, for example,
he sneers: "Die Wirkung dieses herrlichen Musikstilcks ... wird natiirlicherweise
abgeschwacht, wenn sich ... der Genufi belegter Brotchen und die Unterhaltung
des Alltags mit banausischer Gewalt eindrangt" (82).
Kilian points out that for decades after 1796 Egmontv/as performed primarily
in Schiller's adaptation or as a mixture of that and Goethe's original, as we have
227 Goethe and Egmont Today
seen in chapter 4.' He goes on to show that Goethe gained sway toward the end
of the nineteenth century, yet almost every performance nevertheless betrayed
something of Schiller's contribution until the turn of our century. Kalian takes
the general position that Schiller damaged Goethe's work, insisting that it was
"von dem Bearbeiter zerstort" (30), and produced "einen unwiederbringlichen
Verlust" (31). He maligns one of Schiller's new scenes as an "iiblen Theater-
streich" (35), and goes so far as to say: "Schillers Hand [hat] in dieser Beziehung in
wahrhaft grausamer Weise gewiitet" (37). Kilians final word on such literary vi-
olence is: "Schillers Bearbeitung ist eines der lehrreichsten literaturgeschichtli-
chen Zeugnisse dafiir, dafi ein groSer schopferischer Genius dem Schaffen eines
anderen nur selten in vollem MaEe gerecht zu werden vermag" (39). If one ge-
nius cannot do it for another, then who can? Kilian names no successful exam-
ples, and while he does not go so far as to discount the notion of successful
adaptation, he stops well short of that conclusion. Had he lived in our time,
Kilian would have been forced to reject virtually every Egmont production in
the last quarter century.
Kilian's position reveals not just stage wisdom, but a penchant for the deifica-
tion of Goethe, a problem with which some of his fellow Germans still wrestle.
In the section on "Allgemeine Grundsatze fur die heutige Auffiihrung" he calls
it a "selbstverstandliche Pflicht" to perform Goethe's version (58). His justifica-
tion is the typical late-nineteenth, and well into the mid twentieth-century "gei-
steswissenschaftliche ... Achtung vor dem Gesamtkunstwerk" (57), a notion of
unity miraculously intact despite the collapse of the great European empires a
half dozen years before and the political and philosophical fragmentation that
resulted. Connections between Goethe and Beethoven consecrated the notion
of artistic unity even more: "Heute ist Goethes Egmont und Beethovens Musik
ein untrennbares Ganzes unseres nationalen Besitzes geworden" (76f.); and
"Das Doppelwerk Goethe-Beethovens ist ein einzig dastehendes Denkmal un-
seres klassischen Kunstschatzes" (78). Even when Kilian feels constrained to ob-
serve that Beethoven's music just does not fit the final act, he nevertheless calls
any substitution nothing more than "Barbarei" (212). His enthusiasm becomes
embarrassing in such hyperbole as: "Das Gesprach zwischen Egmont und
Oranien, das den [zweiten] Akt beschliefit, ist eines der hochsten Meisterwerke
Goethescher Kunst und gehort in seiner Art wohl zum Vbllendetsten, was in
der dramatischen Weltliteratur auf ahnlichem Gebiete zu finden ist" (132). Per-
haps if one removed the qualifiers "in seiner Art," "wohl," and "auf ahnlichem
Gebiete" Kilian does not really claim as much as it first seems and can be for-
given, yet he ends his book with this patriotic reminder: "Hier ist es Ehren-
pflicht einer fiihrenden Biihne, die Zuhorer an die bedingungslose Achtung zu
gewohnen, die dem einzig dastehenden Doppelwerke unserer beiden Kunst-
heroen zukommt" (218). Fortunately, many directors have ignored this command,
less concerned about the glorification of icons and more intent on relating their
work to the modern world. To be fair, Kilian also writes: "vom Gesichtspunkte
des Theatralikers ist Schiller bei seinen dramaturgischen Aenderungen in vielen,

ja in den meisten Punkten im Rechte gewesen" (39), calling the adaptation's
longevity "ein Zeugnis fur ihre unleugbaren und starken theatralischen
Vorziige" (53). Having knelt at the altar, he is now overheard in the confessional,
and while his book is an exercise in contradiction, it is Kilian ludens, not Kilian
sapiens who most interests me. His critical insights into many "classic" nine-
teenth and early twentieth-century Egmont productions, their directors, stages,
and actors remain invaluable, even if most of his criticisms are based on the
belief that the artistic unity of the original and the intentions of its creator must
be maintained at all costs.
Max Reinhardt s theatre at the turn of the twentieth century can be seen as a
turning point toward the modern era. Since then, the problem of staging,
adapting, and reinterpreting the classics has been a central concern in the the-
atre world, and Leopold Jessner's 1928 Egmont at the Staatstheater in Berlin
(Schauspielhaus) is a case in point. Jessner took the position that Egmont must
focus either on the private world (Klarchen, the romantic relationship) or the
public (politics), and he chose the latter for his production (Schriften, 225),
making some radical alterations to Goethe's text (226-7). His production and
rationale were attacked by Herbert Ihering in the seminal critique Reinhardt,
Jessner, Piscator oder Klassikertod? (1929), who saw here "eine geistige Krise ...
die Krise der klassischen Darstellungsform" (305), though he agreed with Jess-
ner that the classics must be rejuvenated through association with modern
problems.2 Whether this was possible in Goethe's case was a question Ihering
was reluctant to answer, but the agenda for the rest of the century had been laid
out. In 1932, the centennial of Goethe's death, Frankfurt's first "Romerberg-
Festspiele" - open-air performances - offered Goethe's Urgotz and Egmont,
directed by Alwin Kronacher, both hailed for breathing new life into classics for
audiences of Goethe's home town, even to the extent that fundamental alter-
ations received praise: "Schoner als bei Goethe, der ihm opernhaft die Gottin
der Freiheit erscheinen lassen wollte, stirbt Egmont hier: hoch auf dem
schwarzen Schafbtt, eingekreist von den Hunderten Lanzen, eine helle Flamme,
die aus dunkler Erde himmelwarts schlagt" (Frankfurter General-Anzeiger, 21 July
1932; Mohr, 28); and "Die Freilichtauffiihrung des 'Egmont' war, so darge-
boten, noch eine deutlichere Spiegelung politischer Vorgange der Gegenwart.
Merkwurdig, wie die Handlung Symbol wurde. Unheimlich ..., als ware diese
Vergangenheit nur Folie uberhaupt fur unsere Zeit. Niemand wird sich dem
Eindruck entzogen haben: Hier werden unsere Dinge verhandelt" (Frankfurter
Zeitung, Abendblatt, 23 July 32; Mohr, 32, along with several pictures). From our
perspective more dian six decades later, it is astounding that this relevance, and
precisely the final words cited here - "Hier werden unsere Dinge verhandelt"
became the keystone of what I will soon argue to be the most important Egmont
production between 1970 and 1995, a production that occurred in the same city
to boot.
After Hitler's initial rejection of Goethe, then acceptance of him as an impor-

tant icon in national cultural history, the thirties saw many performances of Eg-
mont, often distorted to suit National Socialist propaganda. In 1935 Hitler,
Goring, and other high-ranking Nazi staff saw Gustav Griindgens' interpreta-
tion in the Berlin Schauspielhaus, with Wilhelm Furrwangler conducting the
complete Beethoven score, an historically oriented version in costume and sets,
but with many textual changes to the political arguments. Later in the thirties
Egmont became "eine Auseinandersetzung der nordisch-puritanischen Welt mit
der jesuitischen."3 After the war, Wolfgang Langhoff, a former concentration
camp inmate, directed an Egmont for the Deutsches Theater in Berlin in 1951,
and the production remained a landmark into the seventies (reviewed in Theater
der Zeit 1951:6, 20—4). From die ashes of war he branded it an "optimistische
Tragodie," an epithet cited long thereafter, and offered a final scene with a red-
clad Klarchen waving high the freedom flag of die Netherlands. Egmont's death
was no longer tragic but an impetus for political activism and self-determina-
tion (Theater der Zeit 1985:2; Schumacher, 759-60).
E G M O N T O N S T A G E 1970-95
While Egmont trails some of Goethe's plays in terms of frequency of perfor-

mance, it has been well represented in the past quarter century, produced at least
twenty-four times on German-speaking stages since 1970.! have chosen 1970 as a
starting point because some temporal boundary was obviously necessary, and
more importantly because Peter Zadek's 1967 Mafl jur Mafl along with Peter
Steins 1969 Torquato Tasso — both produced in Bremen and stage designed in
both cases by Wilfried Minks - together represent a turning point for the mod-
ern production in German of classical works, including Goethe. It began a fa-
mous, if not infamous, decade of what is often called Regie-Theater in which
some would claim that the wishes of directors superseded the validity of texts or
the intentions of their authors.4 Zadek was perhaps the more revolutionary of
the two, insisting that primary classical texts represented foremost stimuli for his
theatrical imagination. Stein approached them differently, pushing their authen-
ticity to parodistic extremes by presenting audiences with what he thought these
works were trying to say, but at the same time placing a critical distance between
the values they transmitted and his own - with resulting ambivalence. Hensel
puts it succinctly: "Zadeks Methode: Die Vergangenheit in die Gegenwart
holen; Steins Methode: die Gegenwart in der Vergangenheit suchen" (323-4).
Many of the productions described and discussed below fall into this period,
many others followed in the eighties. Readers will see obvious connections to
Zadek's and Stein's innovative thinking and practice, and some of the directors
belonged to the revolutionary group they led. They are balanced by others who
were established before the sixties and either adapted their directing philosophy
to the new wave or staunchly continued to represent the classical tradition as
they had practised it before. Yet none could remain untouched by the produc-
tion revolution of the seventies. All but one of these directors are male (the ex-
ception, Renate Rustler-Ourth for the Salzburg Elisabethbiihne in 1990), which
is not surprising since female directors have until recently been an international
rarity, a situation that, happily, is slowly changing. At the recent international
theatre conference "Why Theatre?" at the University of Toronto (31.10-4.11.95),
eleven female directors were present, including Andrea Breth of die Berlin
Schaubiihne and Martha Henry of the Grand Theatre, London (Ont.), whereas
just one had been at the previous major conference there ten years before. Fi-
nally, many of these modern Egmont productions have an advantage unknown
- even unthinkable - in Goethe's age: radically different andflexibletheatre
spaces and space-age technology. What the crusty Reinhart Meyer claims in the
introduction to the second division of his Bibliographia Dramatics is only partly
true: "Die heutigen Biihnen stehen bis in ihre Architektur in den Traditionen
feudaler Theater, iiber die literarisch ein moderner Habitus gestiilpt wurde" (6).
Architecturally, many theatres still stand as they did in the late eighteenth cen-
tury, but others are innovative modern spaces which introduce entirely new pos-
sibilities for Egmont or any other dog-eared play, and even many traditionally
constructed spaces use what they have in novel ways.
As the following chart shows, Egmont has averaged one production per year
on German-speaking stages from 1970 to recent times, with a cluster around the
ijoth anniversary of Goethe's death in 1982. The summary and discussion fol-
lowing are based on materials gathered from the theatres in which the produc-
tions were mounted or from associated libraries and archives, as indicated in
parentheses following the entries. The materials are keyed as follows:5
R: Collected reviews from newspapers and theatre journals. Smaller theatres

usually provided five or six, larger ones up to thirty.
S: Strichbuch, either director's or prompters text.
P: Photographs from the production.
M: Program of the production.
V: Videotape of the production.
oo: No reply, despite at least two inquiries.
Stage Productions of "Egmont" 1070—05
1970 Potsdam Hans-Otto-Theater (R,S,P,M)

Zurich Schauspielhaus (R,S,P,M)
1971 Vienna Burgtheater (R,S,P,M)
1971 Dessau Landestheater (R,S,P,M)
1974 Cologne Schauspielhaus (R)
1976 Bern Stadttheater (M)
1977 Innsbruck Landestheater (R)
1979 Weimar Nationaltheater (R,S,P,M)

1980 Karlsruhe Staatstheater (R,S,M)
Munich Bayerisches Staatsschauspiel
(R,S,P,M)
1981 Vienna Volkstheater (R,P,M)
1982 Diisseldorf Schauspielhaus (R,P,M,V)
Brandenburg Brandenburger Theater (R,P,M)
Eisenach Landestheater (oo)
Greifswald Greifswalder Theater (oo)
Bregenz Bregenzer Festspiele (R)6
Vienna Burgtheater (R,S,M)
1985 Leipzig Schauspielhaus (R,M)
1986 Berlin Deutsches Theater (R,S,P,M,V)
Frankfurt/Main Schauspielhaus(R,M,V,V)7
1990 Salzburg Elisabethbuhne (P,M)
1991 Aachen Stadttheater (oo)
1992 Bonn Schauspielhalle Beuel (R,P,M)
1993 Berlin Schillertheater (oo)8
The chart shows a felicitous balance among geopolitical regions: eight produc-
tions occurred in the former German Democratic Republic (Potsdam, Dessau,
Weimar, Brandenburg, Eisenach, Greifswald, Leipzig, Berlin); eight in the Fed-
eral Republic of Germany (Cologne, Karlsruhe, Munich, Diisseldorf, Frank-
furt/Main, Aachen, Bonn, Berlin); and eight in the other two German-speaking
countries: six in Austria (Vienna, Burgtheater, Innsbruck, Vienna, Volkstheater,
Bregenz, Vienna, Burgtheater, Salzburg), and two in Switzerland (Zurich,
Bern). In each group the chart shows major theatres and smaller regional or city
stages. Collected reviews are valuable sources of information on the reception of
each production, although it should be stressed at the outset that the circum-
stances in which reviewers were writing for the media in the GDR were very dif-
ferent from those existing in the other countries considered, and this no doubt
affected their assessments. Photos and programs tell much about nontextual
aspects of the productions, and the Strichbiicher, that is the director's or
prompter's annotated, edited performance texts, provide a complete record of
textual changes and many indications of how the actors performed. These were
acquired in a good number of cases and are in effect the modern equivalents of
the Mannheim manuscript in chapter 2, so that our discussion here has an an-
chor similar to that of the earlier chapters. The most valuable documents of all
are performance videotapes, and while most of the theatres either have no such
videotapes for older performances in their archives or, in a few cases, refused ac-
cess, I was able to view or acquire them for the productions in Berlin (Deut-
sches Theater), Diisseldorf and Frankfurt/Main. These will provide a transition
to our concluding consideration of Egmont on film, but first a detailed overview
of modern productions in the GDR and FRG, and a summary of those in Austria
and Switzerland.
German Democratic Republic
Potsdam 1970
The 1970 Hans-Otto-Theater Egmont in Potsdam under the direction of Peter

Kupke opens the way to many central questions and points of emphasis in
later productions. Although announced on the program's title page as "Johann
Wolfgang Goethe. Egmont. Ein Trauerspiel. Biihnenbearbeitung von Friedrich
Schiller," it is really a modern adaptation of both authors' work by Kail Mickel.
The entire structure of the play is divided neither like Goethe's into five acts,
nor like Schiller's into three, but rather into eleven "Bilder," a structural adapta-
tion that is common to most productions I will consider; and instead of music
by Beethoven, a new, scant musical score by Paul Dessau was added, partly
taped and partly performed by a skeleton corps of musicians with violin and
drum. The set and props were minimalistic, the same walls creating a chamber
to enclose all scenes; the burgher and street scenes were crammed onto a trestle
of benches, the costumes simple, more in tune with the eighteenth than the six-
teenth century. Notably, the Parma scenes as well as the contentious final vision,
both of which Schiller discarded, were reintroduced. Mickel blended Goethe's
two Parma scenes to become Bilder 4 and 8, adding some freshly written por-
tions himself, rearranging events so that Parma's second appearance occurs after
Alba has seized Egmont, and having Alba report the events directly to her on
her sick-bed. The transition from failing regent to ruthless tyrant is thus under-
scored. Mickel introduced a reworking of Goethe's conclusion after the vision in
the prison scene:
Trommeln von fern. Eine Wand wird transparent, Klarchen als Freiheitsgottin, in blutigen
Schuhn.
[ERSCHEINUNG]
Egmont/Klarchen gleicbzeitig:
EGMONT:
Ja, sie sinds, sie sind vereint
Die beiden siissen Freuden meines Herzens
Die gottliche Freiheit, von meiner Geliebten
Borgte sie die Gestalt
Das reizende Madchen
Kleidete sich in der Freundin
Himmlisches Gewand.
In einem ernsten Augenblick
Erscheinen sie vereinigt, ernster als lieblich!
KLARCHEN:
Es 1st mein Blut und vieler Edlen Blut:
Schreitet durch! nichts war umsonst -
Braves Volk! die Siegesgottin ftihrc dich an
Und wie das Meer durch cure Damme bricht
So brecht, so reisst den Wall der Tyrannei zusammen
Und schwemmt ersaufend sie von ihrem Grunde
Den sie sich anmafit, weg!
Die Erscheinung verschwindet, Trommeln tauter.
Von dent Geton der Trommeln erwacht Egmont.
EGMONT: Ein Traum hat mich getauscht. Ein paradiesisch schoner Traum! - Ich sail sie
— Zu mir herunter stieg ein gotdiches Bild — es kam von oben — doch hatt' es alle Ziige
meiner Klara.9
The regeneration of Goethe's vision to include dialogue shared by Egmont and

Klarchen was an interesting innovation in a production that otherwise offered
stark realism and minimalistic theatre, and it was a means to make palatable
Goethe's transition from the realistic to idealistic sphere at the end, for Schiller
the impossible "Salto mortale in eine Opernwelt." In fact, as a whole, despite its
claim to be based on Schiller rather than Goethe, the Potsdam production is
very much in tune with Goethe's Egmont in both text and aesthetics, benefitting
at the same time from Schiller's structural streamlining.
Part of the documentation for this production is an excellent program
produced by the dramaturge, Irmgard Mickisch, which explains some of the
changes made and, like virtually all modern Egmont productions, includes
excerpts from historical and political documents as well as pictures. Egmont is
without doubt an intensely political play and both this and other GDR produc-
tions, and then the FRG productions as well, must be considered from the polit-
ical point of view. Mickisch s program contains treatises by socialist heroes such
as Harro Schulze-Boysen (a member of the resistance movement who was exe-
cuted in a Nazi prison), Ernst Thalmann, and Johannes R. Becher, but they are
not inconsistent with much that is said in either Goethe's or Schiller's text about
political oppression, tyranny, and the role of the populace in resisting them.
Moreover, the performance text does not show undue signs of distortion to par-
ticular political ends — and I include the new vision text cited above. It does
show an awareness of the links between Egmont and the society and audience
who viewed it, a sign of healthy dramaturgy and concern for modern relevance.
Throughout the GDR, it was hardly necessary for directors to distort texts to
make them politically relevant, for their unusually sensitive audiences needed
no heavy-handed allusions to freedom and oppression, but could create the par-
allels for themselves. It should be remembered as well that die political theme of
Egmont was not one of revolution, but rather the restoration of citizens' tradi-
tional rights in the face of an authoritarian state which denied them.
The Potsdam Egmont was generally warmly received by contemporary re-
viewers, for example, by Otto Grell, who called it an "interessante und umstrit-
tene Inszenierung" but expressed unease about the vision scene ("zu opernhaft
gebracht" - had he been reading Schiller?), and closed with:
Nach der Premiere, die einen achtbaren Erfolg brachte, besuchten wir eine Anrechtsvor-
stellung. Der halbe Zuschauerraum war mit Schuljugend besetzt. Wir hatten gehort, dafi
Deutschlehrer mit der Potsdamer Fassung und Konzeption gar nicht einverstanden sind.
Wie reagierte die Jugend? Im ersten der elf Bilder wurde ein wenig gelacht iiber die wie
auf einer Huhnerleiter postierten Burger beim Armbrustschiefien. Dann blieb es bei
gespannter Hingabe an das Buhnengeschehen muckmauschenstill bis zum Schlufi bei
von Bild zu Bild steigendem Beifall. Das Schicksal Egmonts, der als zu friiher Held un-
tergehen mufite ... packt unsere Jugend in dieser realistisch-aktuellen Konzeption. (Der
Morgen, 4 April 1970'°)
If it reflects the audience's reaction accurately, this is an impressive endorse-

ment. Other reviewers spent more time praising the production for its actual
and meaningful treatment of the "klassisches Erbe," but no other testimonial
can match the obvious attraction it had for the youth, as opposed to their teach-
ers who were less inclined to accept an innovatively flexible production."
Dessau 1972
Director Karl Schneider's Dessau Egmont of 1972 was based on Goethe's text
(Leipzig: Reclam) with extensive deletions — every page of the prompter's book
shows some text struck out, most pages are deleted by half, and some almost en-
tirely. Still, the performance was three hours long, apparently at a measured pace.
Structurally the scenic order is maintained, but as in Potsdam, thirteen "Bilder"
replace the formal division into acts and scenes. Schiller's version also comes into
play. At the end of Egmonts tryst with Klarchen, Schneider inserts Schiller's
much derided scene (included in the prompt book as a typescript "Textergan-
zung"), in which she warns Egmont of the impending political danger and urges
him to escape (compare [2.56]). Schneider commented later that the scene was
added to reinforce her image "als Reprasentantin der biirgerlichen Klasse und der
Volksbewegung ... Dieser dramaturgische Eingriff zeigt in der Gemeinsamkeit
des Denkens und Handelns von Richard und Klarchen das biirgerliche Klas-
235 Goethe and EgmontToday
senanliegen (in Ubereinstimmung mit dem individuellen) und das nationale An-
liegen Klarchens gegeniiber Egmont, ihre tiefe Verwurzelung im Denken des
Volkes, ihre politische Klugheit und erklart gleichzeitig, warum die Auseinander-
setzung iiber Egmonts Einschatzung nicht mehr in Gang kommen kann" (The-
ater der Zeit, 1973:5, 29). Apart from this, the closest thing to an exciting textual
addition is the call for a "Kufi" when Egmont visits Klarchen. The director's pri-
mary intention had far more to do with politics than with the private sphere.
Beethoven's entire musical score was performed by the orchestra of the
Landestheater in Dessau under the direction of Heinz Rottger, surely a challenge,
given the sweeping textual excisions (the prompt book contains some indications
of the musical interface, but not all that must have taken place); and besides this,
Klarchen's songs were performed by a singer rather dian by the actress herself, an
artifice which undermined any attempt at realism. Sets, props, and costumes
evoked the sixteenth century, with some suggestion of the earthy tones character-
istic of Netherlandic painting of the period, and while the Parma scenes re-
mained, albeit truncated, Goethe's final vision of Klarchen was omitted.
With the stripped-down text juxtaposed with a full musical score, we are left
with the impression of a production misfit, but the public's civic pride in their
orchestra was perhaps more than enough reason to judge it a success: "Prof. Dr.
Heinz Rottger gelang es hervorragend, die vom Orchester vorbildlich gespielte
Musik Beethovens mit dem Geschehen auf der Buhne so zu verbinden, dafi
durch diese einheitliche Wirkung starke Eindrucke entstanden" (H. Jager in
Freiheit, 9 December 1972). (We will see something similar in the Bonn produc-
tion later on.) But in theatrical terms Gesine Carlitschek in the leading GDR
theatre journal Theater der Zeit (iyjy^, 48) panned the production as lifeless, a
position which drew strong reaction from director Schneider two issues later in
a lengthy article which emphasized his primary agenda to impart a sociopoliti-
cal message rather than create a theatrical experience. He bases his position on
Wolfgang LanghofFs celebrated Egmont of 1951, making his goal clear in state-
ments such as these:
LanghofFs Ansatz ftir seine "Egmont"-Inszenierung 1951, den nationalen Befreiungs-

kampf der Niederlander bestimmend herauszuarbeiten, stand in direktem Bezug zu den
Kampfen der demokratischen Krafte in der jungen DDR unter Fiihrung der SED und
auch in der BRD am Anfang der 5oer Jahre um die Erhaltung der Einheit Deutschlands
angesichts der verscharften Spaltertatigkeit des wiedererstarkenden deutschen und des
internationalen Imperialismus. ... Uns interessiert das Verhaltnis zwischen Gesellschaft
und Individuum, zwischen Volk un Fiihrerpersonlichkeit. (28-9)
Sifting through the hundreds of textual deletions in the prompt book, reading
the program, which contains not a single reference to modern politics (unlike
many Egmont programs east or west), and scanning reviews that blush with pride
at the accomplishment of Dessau's orchestra, one is left with the impression that
guest director Schneider was the only one to understand the full political import
of the play, and in the end it is just as likely that his politically sensitized, if pub-
licly silent audience understood the play's depiction of freedom and oppression
in a way entirely contrary to his pious party line.12
Weimar 1979
Any Goedie production has particular significance when mounted by the Deut-
sches Nationaltheater in Weimar. Its unique historical role leads us to expect a
continuance of the classical tradition, and its Egmont of 1979, directed by Fritz
Bennewitz, essentially fulfilled that mandate. The production included
Beethoven's music, performed by the Weimar Stadtkappelle and supplemented
by the electronic music group SIT. Not only are all of the Goethe characters
present, but an unusual wealth of support players: the prompt book indicates
that "Volk, Gefolge, Wachen usw." include "40 Manner, 15 Frauen, 5 Kinder,"
and a stunning force of "100 Spanier," a happy combination of artistic necessity,
theatrical extravagance, and low labour costs. Added to this mass of humanity,
the prompt book notes beside Egmont s first appearance "ein Pferd," beside
Parma's "zwei Doggen," so the animal world was not slighted either (an amus-
ing irony in light of Goethe's demise at the paws of Der Hund von Aubry in
1817).I3 The prompt book shows repeated evidence of the great care with which
these masses were directed and arranged on stage, intertwined with the musical
score for maximum effect, particularly in the burgher scenes. Here is an exam-
ple from Egmont's capture:
EGMONT. Lebt wohl! Entlafit mich: denn ich wiifite, bei Gott! nicht mehr zu sagen.
Heintze [playing Egmont] geht nach hinten.
ALBA. Halt, Egmont!
Heintze wendet sich zu Alba um. Ton. Auftritt Statisterie: i.Gruppe links (Null-Gasse). 2.
Gruppe rechts (Null-Gasse). 3. Gruppe hinten (Mitte).
ALBA. Der Konig befiehlt's, du bist mein Gefangener.
LichtwecbseVTon. Statisten mit Heintze hinten Mitte ab!(end of Bild 10; compare [2.21])
Such scenes were a ceremony of dramaturgy reminiscent of Goethe's own care-

ful direction and evocation of balance, harmony, and effect when he controlled
the Weimar stage. They were undoubtedly the visual highlight of a production
which otherwise had spartan sets and props, with only a window frame in the
Klarchen scenes to suggest a symbolic dimension there, and dull period cos-
tumes.
Z37 Goethe and Egmont Today
Also noticeable in this scene is the fact that the dialogue has been pared to the
bone, a further characteristic of this Weimar production. Despite the advertise-
ment of Goethe's tragedy in five acts, the prompt book shows a structural divi-
sion into fourteen Bilder and savage textual deletions at least matching those of
the Dessau production. The performance was nevertheless three hours long, so
the time saved through textual deletion was devoted to the visual aspects; yet all
but one of Goethe's original scenes are there, however truncated. The final vi-
sion of Klarchen is cut, but the key scene in which Egmont appears "spanisch"
to Klarchen has numerous notations suggesting careful pantomimic interplay,
including a surprising attempt by Egmont to unbutton Klarchens blouse. We
will keep an eye on similar licentiousness in future productions.
Beyond the assumption that GDR audience members once again quietly rel-
ished the play's allusions to overcoming state oppression, not much can be said
about the sociopolitical relevance of this production. The program contains a
wealth of documents and pictures about the historical background and genesis
of the play (not the least of which is Angelika Kauffmann's sketch of the vision
scene, to my knowledge the only program to print it in the last quarter century
- see chapter 5); yet in contrast to the Potsdam production, only two articles di-
rectly addressing modern times; a brief excerpt from Armin Stolper's essay
"Zum Anlesen des 'Egmont' heute" ("das Stuck ist durchtrankt von Politik")
and an unsigned summary, "Vorfeld der Revolution und Perspektive," in which
catchwords of socialism are dutifully printed, such as, "Ausdruck unterschiedli-
cher Klasseninteressen ... Im Volk bildet sich politisches Bewufitsein allmahlich
heraus" and "die plebejische Revoke."
Reviews were mixed. In the subsequent Goethe-Jahrbuch Georg Menchen re-
ports a discussion of the production by a working group at the 66th general
meeting of the Goethe Gesellschaft, also attended by director Fritz Bennewitz,
whose vocabulary recalls Wolfgang LanghofFs 1951 interpretation, when he told
listeners: " 'Egmont' handelt von Geschichte, also ist es ein Gegenwartsstiick, ein
Stuck iiber Gesellschaftsentwurfe, uber die Befreiungskampfe der Menschheit; es
ist ein optimistisches Stuck, und darum sind die Zweifel, die Verzweiflung, die
Niederlagen vor und in den Siegen wichtig" (125). Those present expressed un-
happiness about an " 'allzu dusteren, statuarischen' AufRihrung" (124), which
captured the tenor of more than one review as well. Like Bennewitz, most
seemed to acknowledge Weimar's role and responsibility to stage the classics,
"seinem spezifischen Auftrag nachzukommen, die Stiicke aus der deutschen
Klassik dem Publikum zu erschliefien" (Thuringer Tageblatt, 3 April 1979.), but
the production followed this mandate as unprovocatively as Bennewitz's state-
ment. As far as generating theatrical excitement or interest is concerned, he
seems to have drawn a blank in the minds of most audience members and re-
viewers. Such is the conclusion one must also draw from the discussion pub-
lished by Menchen, the Thuringer Tageblatt review of 3 April 1979 (Herbert
Weifihuhn), and that of Gerhard Piens in Theater der Zeit (i<)j<):6, 9-10). These
h
have, however, a curious counterbalance in the Thuringer Landeszeitung review

(31 March 1979), which relished the event: "Man fuhlt sich an alte Zeiten grower
Klassiker-Inszenierungen auf dieser Biihne erinnert und spurt doch, da6 etwas
Neues entstand." The reviewer does not suggest what that original contribution
might have been. Volk (4 April 1979) reviewed a subsequent performance to open
the "Theatertage der Jugend," reporting the "sturmischen Beifall von den jungen
Zuschauern ... - ein Beweis fur die aktuelle Bedeutsamkeit ... ein politisches
Stuck ... So auch in Weimar mit Blick auf gegenwartige Entscheidungssitua-
tionen." Again, the reference to modern relevance remains vague. Such contra-
dictions — the glowing reports here versus the negative reactions above — are not
uncommon among reviews in all countries, but in the political climate of the late
seventies GDR one cannot help but react sceptically.'4
Brandenburg 1982
One cannot, however, be sceptical about the three GDR productions of Egmont
in the Goethe year 1982. While I shall concentrate on the Brandenburg produc-
tion, in keeping with the availability of documentation, the one in Eisenach was
discussed in conjunction with it in Theater derZeitî:^,, 16-17), and the one in
Greifswald two issues earlier in the same journal (10—n). Together, they repre-
sent a fruitful year of GDR Egmont production. In Brandenburg, Goethe's ver-
sion was advertised and the audience entered the theatre to Beethoven's
overture, amusing themselves as they waited by glancing through programs con-
taining entirely conventional excerpts from historical documents and summa-
ries. But any expectations of a museum piece were soon dispelled. The stage
revealed an ingenious set constructed of moveable panels which, combined with
lighting variations, created multiple effects, atmospheres and settings, from pub
scenes, windows and look-outs, to Albas forbidding chamber, Klarchen's room,
and Egmont's cell. Ahistorical costumes contributed further to director Martin
Meltkes conscious attempt to connect the problems enacted with the realities of
current life. Machiavell appeared from the audience. The populace entered,
gathered, shot their bows, and cheered not only on the stage, but among the
audience as well, on through the aisles, and out to the foyer and halls. A child
announced the place of action before every scene, breaking the illusionary flow
and providing a thought-provoking distance from the action to come. A "Wir-
tin," added to the cast, provided Egmont with a guest book in which he docu-
ments his celebrated presence, a reflection that gave the entire production a self-
referential quality. Such innovations and tricks point to a director who is un-
afraid of working productively with a classic. The climax occurred in the final
scene where, instead of the abandoned Klarchen vision, Oranien reappears and,
surrounded by the entire cast, steps to a microphone and reads aloud Egmont's
"Schreitet durch! - braves Volck! Die Sieges Gottin fuhrt dich an" (compare
[296]). It takes some courage for a director to tamper like this with the well
239 Goethe and EgmontToday
known conclusion of a classic, an action that foreshadows some of the more

meaningful adaptations of the next decade.
Leipzig 1985
Three years later, the Leipzig production offered more creative innovations.
Listed in the program as "Johann Wolfgang Goethe. Egmont. Biihnenfassung
der Leipziger Theater auf der Grundlage der Biihnenbearbeitung von Friedrich
Schiller," it was the first and only production since 1970 to announce its primary
text base exclusively as Schiller's adaptation. For this there was a double motive,
the GDR'S celebration of Schiller's 225th birthday and director Karl Kayser's
admitted curiosity about staging Schiller's version, having already directed two
Goethe-based productions in 1950 (Weimar) and 1960 (Leipzig). Director, audi-
ences, and critics alike were almost uniformly enthusiastic about this Egmont
which they called, again in LanghofFs terms, an "optimistische Tragodie."15 Per-
haps the unheard-of reduction of text and action to just over two hours was the
first encouragement to a highly positive reception. Despite our expectations, the
list of character shows some of the manifold changes from Schiller's version.
Klarchen's mother has disappeared, while Parma and Machiavell return briefly.
There is a new "Fechtszene" and someone in charge of "Choreographische
Mitarbeit," which resulted in memorable burgher scenes with interwoven folk
musicians and sixteenth-century Netherlandic songs. Klarchen's suicide is now
replaced by her arrest at the hands of the Spanish forces, a more fitting end for a
young heroine who has a much greater sense of individuality and social mission
than any of her predecessors on German stages to that point. This political ac-
cent was heightened by a set dominated by a moveable cross of heavy beams
draped with dark green clotli and hanging from chains, which functioned inge-
niously to create rooms, passages, and frames for various scenes, but at the same
time functioned through its weight as a reminder of the oppressive occupying
force. Ahistorical costumes further contributed to the release of the play's politi-
cal motifs from their renaissance framework and again the final scene was telling.
The vision was replaced by a simultaneous realization by Klara, Egmont, and
Brackenburg of the final scene of the play. All three focussed on a manifesto for
political justice written with chalk by Egmont onto the stage itself.
As was the case with the Brandenburg production, the Leipzig Egmont at-
tempted to adapt its text base to modern times, but unlike Brandenburg, it
made this intention clear from the start. Besides some of the conventional his-
torical background, the program carried statements by Johannes R. Becher on
the necessity to make Goethe relevant fot each society and time, and an excerpt
from the rousing last speech of the ousted Socialist President of Chile, Salvador
Allende (u September 1973), in which he referred to himself as a sacrifice to the
sociopolitical cause and called on the populace to continue his fight for their
self-determination. The program also contained an interview with director
Kayser in which he underscored his interest in showing the "Verantwortung des

Menschen fur seine Zeit... In Bezug auf den 'Egmont' wiirde ich mir als Regis-
seur wiinschen, da6 unsere Auffiihrung es ermoglichte, Anreger zu sein, iiber
ein paar wichtige Fragen und Tendenzen der Entwicklung unserer Gegenwart
nachzudenken. Zum Beispiel: Kann ich Sicherheit und Ordnung, Ruhe,
Frieden und Freiheit nur wollen, ohne dafi ich selbst aktiv etwas dabei leiste?
Kann Gewaltherrschaft mit Gewaltlosigkeit bekampft werden? Im weitesten
Sinne sollte sich der 'Egmont' 1984 als Auffiihrung zeigen mit dem Akzent einer
optimistischen Tragodie von humanistischen Wollen." How this was under-
stood by a GDR audience in 1984-5, and to what practical end, is difficult to say,
but it would be a scant five years before their society did in fact achieve a libera-
tion that had its heart in this very city.
Berlin 1986
The final GDR Egmontv/as produced by the Deutsches Theater in Berlin, and in
terms of text was probably the truest of all to Goethe's original. Maintaining the
structural five acts, except for the elimination of the second Parma/Machiavell
scene (in, i) and textual tightening throughout, director Friedo Soker essen-
tially played the entire work (as evident from the archival textbook typescript),
a feat that demanded the audiences attention for almost four hours. Beethoven's
music was replaced by incidental background compositions from a trio on gui-
tar, cello and hurdy-gurdy. As in the examples discussed so far, I will focus now
on the textual materials, program, photographs, and reviews, but when we turn
to film, will reconsider the production from the perspective of that medium.
The Deutsches Theater was for the GDR, and still is for Germany, a venue of
major importance; hence, its production of Egmont can be seen, like Weimar's, as
a signal event. It later toured abroad, to the west in Amsterdam, to the east in
Moscow and Leningrad, an indication that it was seen to represent the best of
what GDR theatre had to offer. Die Junge Welt claimed that 10,000 saw it per-
formed in the Soviet cities and relished its allusions to the people's revolution (19
December 1986). In Amsterdam, the tour was also a resounding success. Consid-
ering the history of the Dutch and the continuing pride in their national hero,
Prince William of Orange, audiences there were highly responsive to and appre-
ciative of the story line of Egmont, and they applauded what was doubtless an ac-
complished professional performance. Prince Claus expressed the enthusiasm of
the Dutch people in person: "Sein personlicher Dank an das Ensemble - er
sprach von einem tiefen Beeindrucktsein - und die Publikumsreaktionen, der
lange Beifall, mit Bravo-Rufen verstarkt, liefien deutlich die Zustimmung der
Zuschauer erkennen."16 The Amsterdam visit was part of a publicity gambit
which included information and exhibitions on the GDR, and which produced
some fortuitously discomforting reports about life in Amsterdam versus that in
the beneficent homeland, for example, Otto Mellies's (who played Alba) observa-
tion: "Arbeitsbedingungen, soziale Sicherheit, wie sie die Schauspieler in un-

serem Land geniefien, sind den niederlandischen Kollegen leider sehr fern"
(National-ZeitungYj Sept. 1986). The 160 Statisten in Weimar would surely have
agreed. The exhibition was entitled "Die DDR - ein uberraschendes Land," one
of the unwittingly humorous understatements of the decade in view of immi-
nent political collapse.
Solter's loyalty to Goethe's text did not result in a production that tried
to recreate history. Archival photos (of which the Deutsches Theater has a large
selection) show costumes of indefinite period, including mixed indications of six-
teenth, eighteenth, and even twentieth-century cut and fashion. Most striking was
Hans-Jiirgen Nikulka's set and accompanying lighting, sparse but dramatically in-
ventive, especially the contrast between Parma and Albas high-walled chambers
and the curious boxlike structure with dramatically sloped checkered floor and
chest-high walls, which encased Klarchen's dwelling. The contrast between the ex-
pansiveness of state power and the precarious world of the average citizen was
cleverly illustrated here, as was the gap between the extended world view evident
through the large window in Egmonts home and the tiny one in Klarchen's.
We are reminded in the program of the history of Egmonton the Berlin stage.
It was banned by Friedrich Wilhelm in in 1819 as dangerous, a ban which re-
mained in force until 1841, and even then the play was not performed there again
before 1871. These program materials place much less emphasis on the play's po-
litical relevance than previous GDR productions we have seen. Dramaturge Hans-
Martin Rahner's notes call Egmont "ein Stuck, in dem es um politische Vernunft
geht," emphasizing not action but reflection: "Nicht Historic, nicht Revolu-
tionsdrama, nicht Charaktertragodie ist der Egmont, keine Anleitung zum Han-
deln' oder Andersmachen,' dieses Stuck ist die minutiose Anatomic eines fur den
Gang der Weltgeschichte entscheidenden politischen Prozesses, den der Autor
abhangig zeigt vom politischen Verhalten und Handeln des einzelnen." Such a
passive, defensive interpretation would certainly not have been accepted in pri-
vate by many fellow citizens of the GDR. The program further contains a wealth
of biographical and historical documents, some of which point to political rele-
vance of the past, but with the exception of an excerpt by Friedrich Engels on
nineteenth-century abuse of force, another about Carl von Ossietzky's persecu-
tion by the National Socialists, and a general testimonial to the power of the poet
by Johannes R. Becher, there is no obvious attempt to stress the play's modern
political relevance. In this vein, perhaps less must be expected from a production
intended for touring abroad and mounted in a theatre with the status of state
showpiece. Intelligent and engaged audiences could still have their quiet
thoughts. Klaus-Peter Gerhardt suggested as much in this veiled allusion: "1986
wieder der 'Egmont' ... zu einer Zeit, da sich in unserem Land das offentliche
Bewufitsein iiber Weg und Ziel der gesellschaftlichen Entwicklung und die
Teilnahme an den bevorstehenden epochalen Aufgaben besonders wach und
griindlich verstandigt" (Theater der Zeit 1986:6, 36).
Gerhardt's review is the most comprehensive and even-handed of the many

I consulted in the archives of the Deutsches Theater.17 There is frequent
lament about the length of the production and grumbling that Solter's loyalty
to Goethe's text went beyond reasonable bounds: "Vier voile Stunden dauert
die Auffiihrung, in der — hochgerechnet — vielleicht zwanzig Minuten lang der
Zuschauer Lust am Theater haben kann"; or "Solter behandelt das biirgerliche
Erbe mit soldier Sorgfalt, daf? einige seiner Schauspieler jedes Wort einzeln
aussprechen, als wollten sie Goethes Text jemandem diktieren" (Der Tagesspie-
gel, 3 April 1986). Some traditionalists praised Solter's loyalty to the text, while
others were firmly in the camp of the adapters: "Man hatte harter und
riicksichtsloser kiirzen sollen - das scheint mir moglich, ohne dafi die Grund-
substanz beschadigt wird" (Weltbiihne, i April 1986). Reviewers had various re-
actions to Nikulka's innovative set: "Bedriickend, belastend die Uberladenheit
dieser diisteren, oft schrillen Bildwelt, halsbrecherisch diverse, auf der Dreh-
biihne installierte Schauplatze mit perspektivisch verkiirzten, ansteigenden
Fufiboden. Aus dem willkiirlich Zusammengewiirfelten entsteht leider kein
verdichtetes Monumentalgemalde" (Wochenpost, n April 1986); from the camp
of historical accuracy: "Nikulka ... verfremdete den Schauplatz Briissel bis zur
Unkenntlicheit" (Neues Deutschland, 26 March 1986); or "Nikulkas Biihnen-
bilder mogen fiir sich ansehenswert sein, aber was sie in ihrem bunten
Durcheinander mit der Sache zu tun haben, bleibt iiberwiegend ratselhaft"
(Tribune, 26 March 19861). On the other hand, a critic praises "Die in groGen,
klaren Formen, kompromiElosen Farben gestalteten Biihnenbilder" (National-
Zeitung, 25 March 1986).
Reactions to individual performances were generally positive, particularly to-
ward Ulrich Miihe's Egmont, and descriptions of how a number of scenes were
played leave us intrigued. One is Egmont's appearance in Spanish costume:
"Mit einem Kapuzenmantel verhiilh, kommt er seinem Klarchen spanisch. Hier
ist er ubermiitig und verspielt, spreizt sich wie ein seiner Einmaligkeit und
Kostbarkeit bewufcer Pfau, riistet sich aber im unbeschwerten Tanz ab" (TdZ,
1986:6, 36). In the prison scene Egmont is described delivering his noted dream
monologue while required to " [strampeln] wie ein auf dem Riicken liegender
hilfloser Kafer mit den Beinen" (Neues Deutschland, 26 March 1986), leaving us
wondering what exactly his mime was about. A third describes the concluding
vision: "Glanzend wie der Darsteller die Schlufivision, daf? die Massen ihn be-
freien, schliefilich spielt" (Berliner Zeitung, 25 March 1986). Just how was the vi-
sion shown? One of the archival sketches shows Egmont on his prison bed with
Klarchen on a cloud above, yet not a single reviewer draws attention to what
must surely have been a most unusual scene. What really happened? Curious
and incomplete descriptions of such scenes and the public reaction to Nikulka's
sets leave us wanting to know more. The videofilm makes clear that the vision
scene was excised in the final stages of production, thereby also demonstrating
the value of such a complete visual record. I shall return to this later.
2,43 Goethe and Egmtmt Today
Federal Republic of Germany
Cologne 1974
Cologne, Karlsruhe, Munich, Diisseldorf, Frankfurt, Bonn, Aachen, and Berlin

- Egmonthas been well represented on stages throughout the FRG in the last two
decades. In the previous section I was able to take the earliest example, the Pots-
dam production, as an instructive starting point because of the many questions it
posed. So too here: director Hansgiinther Heyme's Egmont at the Kolner Schau-
spielhaus was a provocative production that served as a yardstick for many to
come.'8 It was based on Goethe's original text, with tightening throughout and
the elimination of the Richard/Egmont scene, but all major elements, including
a stylized vision of Klarchens bestowing of the victor's wreath remained. The sin-
gle word to describe Heyme's strategy in playing Goethe is "distance" - de-
scribed by reviewer Heinrich Vormweg as "Egmont als Zitat"19 - distance from
Goethe's text, distance from Egmont the hero and his era, and distance from
Goethe himself. Heyme showed Egmont and its author rather than playing them,
encouraging his audience to view critically rather than become absorbed.
Beethoven was replaced by Werner Haentjes' "Gerauschkompositionen" (Vorm-
weg) over loudspeakers between scenes, and Klarchens songs were given new
melodies. Costumes recalled Goethe's Weimar rather than Egmont's Brussels,
suggesting a double level of historicity which brought not just sixteenth-century,
but eighteenth-century society and politics into play. This elastic time frame was
stretched further to the modern era by means of an additional presence on stage
from the opening scene, a life-size statue of Goethe - or was it Egmont? To view-
ers it was deliberately unclear - a statue to whom the actors sometimes turned
when speaking of the protagonist. A prominent electric clock in the background
provided a hectic modern contrast to the pace of historical time. Bert Kistner's
brilliant set contributed greatly to this historical layering, constructed "literally"
from hanging strips of yellowish paper — manuscript material from Goethe's age
- torn away gradually from scene to scene to create new spaces and avenues, leav-
ing a pile of used, yet useful, literary and historical litter.
Some critics' conclusions: "diese erstaunlich gegliickte Inszenierung ...
[Heyme] hat ein Stuck, vor dessen Gefahren bei einer heutigen Inszenierung
alle Kenner warnen, aus der Erstarrung des Klassischen gelost" (Vormweg);
"Kein Zweifel: sie hat aufierordentlichen Rang" (Hans Schwab-Felisch, Frank-
furter AllgemeineZeitung[zj December 1974], 2.3); "eine zweifellos interessante
Interpretation, mit aller Sorgfalt vorbereitet und konsequent ausgefuhrt. Da
wird doch ein Weg sichtbar, wie durch eine Verbreiterung der theoretischen Ba-
sis in Kultur- und in politische Geschichte eine iiber das einzelne Stuck hinaus-
zielende Darstellung versucht werden kann" (Egon Netenjakob, Theater heute
[J975:3]> 3°-4> here 34); and "Diese Auffiihrung ist der jiingste Beweis fur
Hansgiinther Heymes seltsame Hafiliebe zu den Klassikern" (Eo Plunien, Die
Welt [27 December 1974]). Netenjakob's praise seems to me exactly the central
point in evaluating the success not just of Egmont or of Goethe productions, but
indeed of any production, especially those rooted in history, and Plunien's
grudging acknowledgement the most one can expect. He closes his review
by describing the audience's final reaction: "das iibliche Buh-, Beifalls- und
Pfeifkonzert ... wobei die Heyme-Partei den langeren Atem hatte" - and
rightly so! Engaging audiences' critical faculties while providing pleasure and
excitement through inventive staging and presentation are surely what the best
directors and companies deliver in the end, and this is just what Heyme seems
to have done. This production was obviously judged not just as a single drama-
turgical presentation, but as part of a theatrical continuum involving three stars,
Egmont, Goethe, and Heyme himself, which is similar to Friedo Solter's status
in the production in the Deutsches Theater in Berlin, and to the later work of
leading directors, such as Rudolf Noelte, Dietrich Hilsdorf, Dietrich Haugk,
amd Peter Palitzsch.
Karlsruhe 1980
In contrast to the above, Hanns Zischler, guest director for the 1980 Karlsruhe
Egmont, was anything but a celebrity on the theatre scene. Nevertheless, he re-
vealed a wealth of insight even diough his relative obscurity and the lesser status
of the theatre there reduced the attention it received. Zischler's previous experi-
ence and accomplishments lay primarily in film, which left its mark on this pro-
duction, a fascinating blend of textual and visual power, anticipating many
aspects of the film versions I shall discuss later on. In an apparent contradiction,
Zischler insists on the one hand on the authority of Goethe's text; on the other,
he causes the play to speak most forcefully through its visual dimension, using
the text primarily as a means to highlight the play's images. The evidence for
this text-image interplay is underscored in an extraordinary way: the theatre
program is a copy of Goethe's complete original text along with Zischler and
dramaturge Peter Krumme's working deletions and notations, in effect the di-
rector's Strichbuch published. Contrast this with the director's and prompter's
books which are inaccessible in many theatres, or released only with caution by
archivists well after the performance run. Unlike every other modern Egmont
under consideration here, there was no attempt whatsoever, either in the pro-
gram materials or in the production itself, to make connections to modern po-
litical events.
The directors book shows that Goethe's original Egmont was played with all
the characters and scenes, with only one minor scenic rearrangement, and with
tightening throughout which reduced the overall text by about one third.
Klarchen's suicide and Egmont's rousing "wie ich euch ein Beispiel gebe" are the
only noteworthy substantive deletions, and the concluding vision remained.
Much of Beethoven's music also remained (on audiotape), from the overture to
passages played at various intervals in the action, but substantially truncated, so

that we have what we might call "glimpses" of Beethoven, rather than anything
approaching a full score. Costumes recalled the sixteenth century, a realism
which contrasted with the sparse props and stylized lighting which illuminated
parts of a largely dark stage in segments and silhouettes, but it was in these im-
ages that the heart of the production lay.
A striking example of this optical realization can be seen in Zischler and
Krumme's treatment of the horse motif. The Karlsruhe set included repeated
visual allusions to this image, for example, a backdrop depicting huge horses, and
at the end the draped form of Egmont's own horse beside die despairing hero.
Marginalia in the director's book show a careful weaving of the motif throughout:
a speech by Parma in her "Jagdkostiim" carries the annotation "Pferde"; Egmont's
entry is accompanied by sounds of "ein wieherndes Pferd" (16); the loaded term
"Sonnenpferde" is injected a second time into his speech with Oranien (21); and a
connection is made between Egmont's reference to "edles Pferd" and Ferdinands
"rohes Pferd" (37 and 41). The horse becomes verbally and visually charged widi
meaning for Egmont's personality and fate, word and image reflecting each other,
in order to explore the psychological dimensions of the protagonist rather than his
historical significance. Thus the production's conclusion has a logic and consis-
tency that can only be understood in optical terms: Egmont's vision of freedom is
an image from within, not a political call to the people.
We see further in the director's marginalia a conscious attempt to draw links
to motifs in other Goethe works, to connect Egmont with its author and his
entire oeuvre. Albas comments on Egmont's horse are linked by a marginal
comment to "Werther's letter of 16 March (WA i, 19, 106), "Man erzahlt von
einer edlen Art Pferde" (38), and there are notations about Die naturtiche
Tocbter, Der Zauberlehrlingand Faust lid), the sonnet "Abschied" (54), and the
poem "Urworte. Orphisch" (26). One feels the hand of Zischler's dramaturgical
advisor, the Berlin Germanist Peter Krumme, who shared with the director a
sense of the play's associative complexity:
EGMONT ist kein dramatisches Stuck im Sinne eines traditionellen Handlungsdramas ...
es hat etwas von Bildern und Tableaus, die nebeneinanderstehen; und die sich am Schlufi
in einem ganz iiberraschenden Gesamttableau vereinigen, dessen Ausgang, dessen Grund-
perspektive man aus den einzelnen Bildern nur sehr schwer erahnt. Das einzige, was als
Ahnungsspur dutch das Stuck lauft, ist die unglaublich kiihne Behandlung der Sprache.
Ein assoziatives Hasardspiel, das einen im besten Sinne verriickt macht. Dieser Spur nach-
zugehen, der Pferde-, Reiter- und Wassermetaphorik zum Beispiel, nicht als Lesevergnii-
gen, sondern dieser Spur Gehor zu verschaffen, Bild zu geben, als Momenten, die das
Drama bewegen, halte ich ftir einen unglaublich spannenden Vorgang.20
I appreciate this statement for its sensitivity to the literariness of Goethe's text
and its potential to transcend print, time, and genre. First a filmmaker, Zischler
legitimizes himself as a director with a sense of literary and theatrical values,

something we will be looking for when we discuss Egmont on the screen. Re-
viewers almost uniformly appreciated the insights his production offered.21
Munich 1980
We can measure this interpretation against that of director Michael Haneke in

the same year at the grand dieatre complex of the Bayerisches Staatsschauspiel
(Residenztheater) in Munich. His Egmont attempted the same shift from textual
to visual significance, to an extent that for some went beyond the boundaries of
acceptability, though others sang its praise. "Zu Goethes literarischer Raffinesse
verhalt es sich wie Disneyland zu Weimar," wrote Rolf May, while Hannes S.
Macher judged the production "eine der fesselndsten, der bilderstarksten 'mod-
ernen' (aber keineswegs modernistischen) KlassikeraufRihrungen, die es in den
letzten Jahren in Miinchen zu sehen, zu erleben gab."22 Clearly all Egmonts con-
sidered so far are to some extent adaptations, each changing and interpreting
Goethe's or Schiller's text more or less. This production was a radical one, and it
raises the question as to how far it is legitimate to change and even twist a text
without wringing it dry of sense. The wealth of documentation in the Staats-
schauspiel archive, including three separate production text books (typescripts
based on the Reclam edition for prompter, stage manager, and sound techni-
cian) allow us to assess the production closely.23 The prompter's book shows first
some alteration of Goethe's structure, the "Endgiiltige Szenarium Egmont"
being nine "Bilder" entitled "i. Kneipe, 2. Klarchen, 3. Egmont, 4. Arkaden, 5.
Klarchen, 6. Alba, 7. Stra6e, 8. Klarchen, 9. Gefangnis." From this, considerable
structural redesigning is apparent. The entire first scene "Armbrustschiefien" is
omitted, and the play begins with Goethe's n, I, "Platz in Briissel," now trans-
posed to a "Kneipe." Both Parma and Machiavell scenes have vanished. There
are extensive cuts throughout the entire remaining text, which leave the impres-
sion of a performance of Egmont highlights rather than of die full work. No
mention is made of Beethoven, whose score is replaced by Peter Fischer's new
compositions played on strings, piano, bassoon, and drum. Costumes are unre-
lated to a specific time.
The production contained many thought-provoking innovations in interpre-
tation and staging. While the opening citizen scene was transplanted to a drink-
ing tent, it nevertheless provided a spectacular entry by the protagonist as the
canvas wall is suddenly rent asunder to reveal him, beaming confidence, atop a
huge silver steed. This image of Egmont at the start iconicizes him like some
huge historical monument, a distant, glorious, powerful hero in the minds
of the people, setting the importance of the visual dimension at the outset. He
disappears as magically: "Zwischenvorhang hoch. Egmont verschwunden"
(promptbook, 28). Then in the intimate scene, Haneke reverses the traditional
constellation and has Egmont at Klarchen's knee, rather than the reverse - "er
kniet vor ihr" - and the notes are added, "[sie] nimmt [die] Kette ab ... sie
hangt ihm die Kette um," followed by "Umarmung" (50). At the play's climax,
Egmont's prison dream monologue is excised (74-6) and replaced with a pow-
erful image, as he is encased in a cage, and an entirely rewritten ending is added
- (prompter's book, 90-1). A "Schwarzes Tuch senkt sich und bedeckt den
Kafig" (sound book, last page), accompanied by music in a "Kollossale
Steigerung. "24 Goethe's Klarchen vision, noted as "Erscheinung," is also con-
jured up with lighting and screened effects (technical details evident from p. 102
of the stage-manager's book), a closing touch of theatrical magic which parallels
Egmont's supernatural entry at the beginning. The production is thus bracketed
by powerful visual scenes embracing the interplay between text and image.
Unlike the Karlsruhe Egmont, this one, through its costuming and sets, does
draw connections to the modern political world. Alba's appearance and quarters
suggest the National Socialist era, some of the backdrop walls a concentration
camp. The excellent program contains, besides an instructive selection of histor-
ical and biographical materials, writings related indirectly to the play's modern
political relevance by such well known persons as Max Frisch ("Recht und Ord-
nung"), Erich Fried ("Griinde"), and directly so by the Germanist Fritz Briigge-
mann. Here, too, is a long interview with director, Michael Haneke, who
expresses his hope that audiences will see beyond the aesthetics of theatre to link
Egmont with their own political situation (9).
Diisseldorf 1982
The notion of celebrity is again relevant for our discussion of the 1982 Egmont
in the Diisseldorf Schauspielhaus. Rudolf Noelte was, like Solter in Weimar or
Heyme in Cologne, a celebrity as a director, and consequently attracted close
critical attention. National press coverage therefore naturally included the most
prominent theatre critics.25 The spotlight was directed so intensely on Noelte
that critical appraisal of the production in many ways says more about him than
about the play itself. The Diisseldorf production also shares an unenviable dis-
tinction with only one other case discussed in this chapter (Palitzsch, Vienna,
same year), in that critical and public reaction was resoundingly and almost uni-
formly negative. While sarcasm and cynicism in theatre criticism are always to
be taken with a grain of salt and are usually balanced by positive or even-handed
assessments, in this case the outcry was so general that the production must be
considered a failure. The production is extremely well documented in the excel-
lent Dumont-Lindemann Archiv, including a videotape, but I shall consider it
now on the basis of the written documentation and photographs, and later reas-
sess it in light of the film.
The billing of this production as Goethe's Egmont "Ttzuerspiel in fiinf Aufzii-
gen" indicates immediately Noelte's intention to be loyal to Goethe's text, and
this he did, tightening the text throughout, but maintaining in a three and a
half-hour production Goethe's original structure and scenes, with one signifi-
cant difference, the elimination of the final vision. Walter Dorfler's sets and cos-
tumes recalled the sixteenth century and, combined with the lighting and
character arrangements, even suggested aesthetic links with Dutch painting of
that period, something for which set and costume designers often strove in rec-
reating this play. Beethoven's music was neither played nor replaced by another
score, so that Noelte placed most of his faith in the power of Goethe's text and
his actors' abilities to deliver it. Noelte in fact built his reputation as a conserva-
tive loyal to his literary base, a director who refused to join those in the seventies
who had experimented outlandishly with die primary work. As reviewer Wolf-
gang Ignee mischievously put it, "iiberall im Umland der Universitatsstadte
hat man doch schon das Gretchen nackt, das Kathchen in Strapsen und das
Luischen busenfrei sehen konnen. Nur der Regisseur Rudolf Noelte wiirde ...
als grofie Ausnahme erscheinen. ... Noch nie hat dieser Regisseur namlich
Zucht und Sittsamkeit in seinen Inszenierungen verletzt" (Stuttgarter Zeitung,
18 May 1982). But this time Noelte's conservatism seems to have exhausted its
benefits, as Ignee goes on to suggest along with a chorus of critics whose high
expectations of this illustrious director had clearly been dashed:
Dieser "Egmont" setzt in Noelte's Karriere einen solchen Tiefpunkt, dafi man dem
Regisseur, der als Farbe und Potenz dem Theater unentbehrlich ist, eine schopferische
Denkpause wiinscht. (Ulrich Schreiber, Stuttgarter Nachrichten, 17 May 1981)
Der Diisseldorfer "Egmont" ist derzeit wohl das furchterlichste Beispiel fur eine Regie,
die sich keinen Deut um den Autor kiimmert. (Giinter Engelhard. Miinchner Merkur, 17
May 1982)
Noelte sprengte nichts, keine Dimensionen. Er versagte einfach. (Hans Bertram Bock,
Nurnberger Nachrichten, 17 May 1981)
krass und aussichtslos fehlgeschlagen. (Peter Iden, Frankfurter Rundschau, 18 May 1982)
Noelte ist verlegen (um nicht zu sagen hilflos), so radikal mit diesem Stuck verfahren,
wie er es sonst nur anderen, den vermeintlichen Vergewaltigern von Theaterliteratur
vorgeworfen hat. (Jens Wendland, Siiddeutsche Zeitung, 21 May 1982)
Mit dieser Inszenierung ... sehen wir einen wichtigen Regisseur in einer Sackgasse. (Die
Zeit, 21 May 1982)^
What did Noelte do wrong in their eyes? Four things stand out repeatedly in
the criticism. First, despite Noelte's reputation for loyalty to original texts,
which he for the most part upheld here again, critics found the delivery of that
text and its animation through the interplay of die actors lifeless and uncon-
vincing. Egmont's long scene with Richard in Act i, for example, is performed
while Egmont changes wardrobe partly on and partly off the stage, so that the
many philosophically weighty parts of this exchange are trivialized or lost. The
love scene contains almost no physical contact between Egmont and Klarchen:
"Was da zwischen Egmont und Klarchen nicht passieren will, das Kiissen und
Kosen, ist blofi Hinweis und Symbol fur viel folgenreichere Begegnungen, die
in dieser Inszenierung leider nicht zustande kommen: die Begegnung zwischen
dem Paraderegisseur der sechziger und siebziger Jahre und dem Dramatiker
Goethe zum Beispiel; oder die Begegnung zwischen den Zuschauern und der
Egmont-Figur" (Wolfgang Ignee). Secondly, the production is criticized as be-
ing simply too dark. One of Noelte's trademarks, in conjunction with his set de-
signer, had always been imaginative, interpretive lighting. The reviewers
complain that this time, despite an intelligent attempt to create darkly shad-
owed groupings and bright silhouettes reminiscent of the Dutch school of
painters, the action was simply lost in gloom, the sets, costumes, and acting un-
noticed in the shadows. Review titles such as "Egmont in der Dammerung"
(Neue Rhein Zeitung, ij May 1982), "Chargen im Halbschatten" (Suddeutscbe
Zeitung, 21 May 1982), "Schattenspiele in der Dunkelkammer" (Die Zeit, 21
May 1982), "Von Anfang an viel Dunkel" (Deutsches Allgemeines Sonntagsblatt,
23 May 1982), and "Diistere Auffuhrung verdunkelt ein Drama" (Kolner Stadt-
Anzeiger, 29 May 1982) were to be taken literally. The gloomy archival pictures
support this criticism, but we will be able to explore the entire concept of the vi-
sual presentation better through an analysis of the videofilm. Thirdly, diere was
a general outcry about the one key Goethe scene that Noelte omitted, the final
vision, the critics expressing deep disappointment at being deprived of diis mys-
tical, metaphysical union of Egmont with die allegory of freedom. In view of
the derision heaped upon the scene from Schiller to our own times, the point
seems ironic; nevertheless, the desire for such an optical apotheosis seemed
strong. Finally, the production is criticized for its failure to draw any stimulating
lines between the politics of the play and the modern world. Critics suggested
the ready examples of the Falklands war, the Afghanistan invasion, and the Pol-
ish crisis, all burning topics in the early eighties which could have provided
ready parallels to much of what was happening on stage. Their complaint here
is borne out by the productions program which, besides offering a fine assort-
ment of historical and biographical articles, excerpts, and pictures, contained
only insipid references to modern political events.
Frankfurt 1986
Almost four years passed after the Goethe-Jahr before Egmont was mounted
again, and indeed Dietrich HilsdorPs Frankfurt production, similar to the
Leipzig Egmont of 1985 for the GDR, can be seen as a new beginning. One can
recall with amusement the complaint of Frankfurt theatre critics in Goethe's
time that Egmont had nothing more to say to the citizens of that city. Almost a
century and a half later they were still wrong. As we saw in chapter 4, after the
initial failure of 1789, Goethe's home town of Frankfurt led all others in the
number and perhaps even the quality of Egmont productions, so this version in
that city had a special significance, though at the same time its failure would be
even more bitter because of that venue. There can be little doubt that Hilsdorf
delivered an imaginative and important production or that one of the major
reasons for its success lay in the fact that it was adapted, mounted, and per-
formed specifically for that city and its citizens. In this it was already unique,
but that was just the beginning of its singularity.
The program booklet is unlike any considered so far. All of Goethe's charac-
ters appear on the list - no cuts here - and we are forewarned that there will be
five acts over the next three and three-quarter hours. One digs in for a looong
night of serious classical theatre. But then featured prohminently is an encour-
agement from none other than Immanuel Kant's Beantwortung der Frage: Was
istAufkldrung(1783): "Habe Mut, dich deines eigenen Verstandes zu bedienen!"
And that is just what HilsdorFs production forced his Frankfurt audience to do:
tear away its preconceptions of what Egmont is in order to make the play rele-
vant for the problems of their city and the modern world. In deliberate imita-
tion of the provocative Goethe/Schiller Xenien (1795/96), there follows in the
program a series of aphoristic notes questioning traditional understanding of
Egmont, and then this from Rosemarie Zellers "Klassikerbearbeitungen? Zu
Schillers 'Egmont'":
Eine Bearbeitung wird oft dann vorgenommen, wenn eine Inszenierung zur Aktualisie-
rung nicht ausreicht, wenn die Form und der Gehalt des Stiicks den Erwartungen des
Publikums nicht mehr entsprechen. ... Schiller und die modernen Bearbeiter verfolgen
mit ihren Bearbeitungen einen analogen Zweck und verwenden auch analoge Mittel, urn
ihn zu erreichen. ... Fiir den modernen Zuschauer haben die Bearbeitungen noch einen
Reiz, den sie fur Schillers Zeitgenossen nicht haben konnten. Wir empfinden, wenn wir
nicht nach fragwiirdigen Kriterien werten, ein intellektuelles Vergniigen, die Bearbeitung
auf dem Hintergrund des wohlbekannten klassischen Stiickes und als Auseinanderset-
zung mit diesem zu sehen. Die moderne Bearbeitung dient auch, anders als Schillers Be-
arbeitung, der Verfremdung oder Rezeptions-Aktualisierung des allzubekannten Textes:
sie verhindert, dafi seine Bedeutung in der automatisierten Rezeption verkannt wird.
(Neue Zuricher Zeitung 24 June 1973)
This is in effect HilsdorFs credo for the production. As I approach the end of
this study, it is encouraging to find direct links still in method and intention be-
tween Schiller's adaptation and the modern stage. The program also contains a
series of "Probefotos" of the production, and if die above credo of adaptation
was insufficient warning that much innovation was to come, these pictures leave
no doubt: Parma in a lavish sixteenth-century gown beside citizens in business
suits of the eighties; Alba and his henchmen in uniforms suggesting the ss or
VOPO; Klarchen in a slip on Egmont's knee; and Egmont - oh Egmont! - such
an Egmont had never before been seen, Egmont in a glorious renaissance man-
tle, Egmont in a long white riding coat, Egmont revealing himself "spanisch" in
a crimson girdle, dancing the flamenco,27 Egmont with beaming youdiful face
and tumbling blond locks atop a mighty, life-size rearing steed - "Super-
Blondie der spaten Renaissance" wrote Claudio Isani in the Frankfurter Neue
Presse (27 Oct. 1986; see Figure 41, p. 225): This picture became the trademark
of the production and was reproduced alongside many reviews, even in large
format by the staid Frankfurter Allgemeine (12 Dec. 1986). The same image is re-
versed at the end to become Egmont with fool's cap on a rocking horse, then
blindfolded and caged. Four hours of Egmonft Yes, but unlike any that had been
seen before.
Like all directors before him, Hilsdorf tightened the text considerably, but
he also played with it, adding scraps, such as Oranien's plea to die blissful hero,
"Komm' doch runter von dem Pferd." Portions of Schiller's adaptation are in-
cluded and some text from Schiller's 1788 review is woven into characters'
speeches. For example, the famous line, "Wir sind nicht gewohnt, unset Mitleid
zu verschenken" (Nationalausgabe 22,203), now comes from the dissident Van-
sen.18 Beethoven accompanies Egmont's glorious entry, is then replaced by
strains of Schubert and Philip Glass, but returns at the end for the climactic "vi-
sion" scene, with the conclusion completely revised. Ferdinand moves to an alli-
ance with Egmont and is discovered by Alba who shoots them both, but
Egmont rises to live again, pass into the audience, and disappear aloft at the rear
of the house. Set and costume designers Haitger M. Boken and Renate
Schmitzer made Egmont's exit a fitting conclusion to a production that physi-
cally and thematically spanned the entire space in which it was played, for it
occupied not just the stage, but the entire hall. Citizens were seated among
the audience, their dialogue shouted across the lighted auditorium, which was
hung with current political banners and pictures and the neon slogan "Tua res
agitur - This is your concern!" - the same slogan which accompanied the ac-
claimed Frankfurt production of i932.i9 Scenes are rearranged so that the citi-
zens in fact begin four of the five acts. And a lighted house? Was Hilsdorf aware
that he was duplicating a practice from Goethe's age, even if now for political
ends rather than for social reasons? This action space forced the themes of
Egmont into the minds and indeed onto the very laps of the audience. In addi-
tion, along the front of a black-hung stage a narrow band of territory was de-
fined for Klarchen, who maintained a presence throughout the entire action,
either as an active player, or as a spectator through her window, one of the few
physical props. This was the world of the private citizen, where she played the
personal drama with her mother, Brackenburg, and herself as she approached
suicide, and with Egmont her lover, a real lover, whom she flirted with and
kissed, hugged and fondled. A third playing space, occupying the cavernous area
252. Images of Goethe through Schiller's Egmont
behind, was the world of power, massive red-tinged marble walls within which
Parma, Alba, and their minions did business and where Egmont is finally caged,
blindfolded, humiliated, and killed.
This should have been more than enough to drive off the purists, but to
judge from the reaction of both audiences and critics, HilsdorFs Egmont-was an
astonishing hit - and this is the word to describe it, not a success, but a hit - a
word associated much more with the popular stage than with the classical, and
also with the electronic media. Several Egmonts discussed above drew wide criti-
cal interest, but not like this one, for it drew the attention of an astonishing
range of public, major traditional newspapers and theatre magazines, tabloids,
alternative presses, even television. No Egmont at any time can equal the num-
ber or range of viewers and readers it attracted.30 What is more, of the nineteen
reviews I have read, only one is negative, an astounding record considering that
they range from Bildto the FAZ, from fresh, unknown critics to the cynical and
the sour.31 Of course, there was dissatisfaction with many individual aspects of
the production, especially with the conclusion, which a number of reviewers felt
went too far, but this representative sampling of their overall reaction should
suffice:
Ober diesen "Egmont" kann man, wird man, mufi man streiten. ... Hilsdorf arbeitet an
szenischen Formulierungen einer zeitgenossischen Asthetik mit einer Energie, in der ihm
an deutschen Theater[n] der Zeit keiner gleichkommt (Peter Iden, Frankfurter Rund-
scbau, 27 October 1986);
Hilsdorfs "Egmont" macht den seit einiger Zeit bei Klassiket-Inszenierungen in Mode
gekommenen Ruckweg zur historischen Werktreue nicht mit, aber er wird dem Werk
auch nicht untreu. Er ist vielleicht nur mutiger und weniger ehrfurchtsvoll als mancher
andere Regisseur. Gelungen ist ihm so die spannendste Klassiker-Inszenierung, die
in den letzten Jahren in Frankfurt zu sehen war (Hans-Jiirgen Linke, Gieflener Anzeiger,
28 October 1986);
Dietrich Hilsdorfs Frankfurter Egmont ist weniger und mehr als Goethes Egmont (Ru-
dolf Kramer-Badoni, Die Welt, 27 October 1986);
Dietrich Hilsdorf, der Regisseur, und sein Biihnenbildner Haiger M. Boken machen
machtig Theater (Peter von Becker, Theater heute, 1987:1).
Even the Frankfurter Allgemeine managed the measured:
HilsdorFs Inszenierung gerat ... oft in 'Stimmungen, die sie nicht braucht. Ihre Klarheit
im Ausbreiten des Textes und in der szenischen Durchdringung bleibt dennoch be-
merkenswert (Gerhard Rohde, 27 October 1986).
I shall return to Hilsdorf s Egmont in my discussion of film, for it was video-

taped for the theatre's private use and separately by the ZDF (based on footage
from the performances of Feb. 5 and 19, 1987) for television transmission along
with the director's commentary. With that it transcended the media of literature
and the stage to enter the world of moving pictures. The Bild reviewer of
the stage show even rated it five stars "*****", as if it were a film (27 October
1986)!
Bonn 1992
After such a pronounced success one can only turn with apprehension to Heinz
Kreidl's Egmont in Bonn (Beuel-Halle), which opened Bonn's triennial
Beethoven festival in 1992. Fortunately, it must be measured by entirely different
criteria. A telling cartoon entitled "High Noon" accompanied die review in An-
nonce/Rhein An (23 Sept. 1992), depicting a duelling KreidI and music director
Dennis Russell Davies in formal tails with pistols at their sides, while attendants
Goethe and Beethoven look on. Had the cartoon offered one more frame, it
would have shown Davies victorious with smoking gun, for so it was in Bonn - a
gala to celebrate their favourite son, not Frankfurt's. This included the full
Beethovenhalle orchestra in tails, with Davies on the podium; a u-shaped stage
with the musicians at its axis, not the actors; and the star hometown soprano,
Mechtild Gessendorf, beside them to steal Klarchen's songs. KreidI and Goethe
had no chance.
In keeping with the Beethoven celebration and the political status of Bonn it-
self, the premiere was a glittering event for the who's who from near and far, a
tone that spilled over remarkably - and perhaps ironically - into the perfor-
mance itself. Rather than the usual "Armbrustschiefien" at the beginning, the
stage was inhabited by official sixteenth-century luminaries — "Honoratioren,
Kardinal, Bischofe" - milling about with drinks and smokes in cocktail party
fashion, as their illustrious audience had just done in the foyer and would do
again in the intermission and thereafter. This was Kilian's "FreGpause" to the
extreme. The characters of Egmont even became spectators when the orchestra
began the overture, forced to listen reverently to the titan's strains before com-
mencing their humble craft. A virtually empty stage distracted from the orches-
tra's splendour not a whit. An enigmatic program which guided visitors through
the event offered the usual selection of Goethe quotations about Egmont, an
excerpt from Thomas Hobbes's essay "Der Staat" (1651), in which he poses the
grand questions about political organization, authority, control, and freedom; a
mixture of pictures from the context of Egmont; and contemporary photos of a
recent Bonn gala in honour of the king of Spain, a massive memorial service to
the victims of war, a 1990 picture of the PDS election in the former East Berlin
(with loyalists still waving GDR flags), a grinning bemedalled Richard von
Z54 Images of Goethe through Schiller's Egmont
Weizsacker, state representatives at the 1985 Bonn World Economic Council, a

Bonn reception for the Shah of Persia, a 1985 Jewish demonstration at the Bit-
burg ss-"Ehrenfriedhof". and finally a Berlin student demonstrator shot dead
by the police. The complaint cannot be made that this Egmont ignored the
play's potential modern political relevance, but there were no further links
between these miscellaneous provocative scenes and the actual performance. In
contrast to the hors d'oeuvres being served aplenty, it was a dog's breakfast of
political allusion.
Beside Dessau, this is the only modern example with Beethoven's complete
musical score and the result justifies producers' traditional reluctance to use it.
As one critic of the Bonn performance put it: "Fur diese Zuriickhaltung gibt es
Griinde. Der gewichtigste unter ihnen ist jenes Phanomen, das auch Schau-
spielregisseuren oft zu schaffen macht, wenn sie sich in die Oper wagen: Die
Musik hat ihr eigenes Tempo, schafft ihren eigenen Zeitraum."32 And since we
already know which of the two, music or drama, was to be featured, we can
guess which set the pace and which limped along behind. In an interview with
the Banner General-Anzeiger (10 Sept. 1982) while the play was still in rehearsal,
director Kreidl was asked, "Herr Kreidl, denken Sie, daf? Goethes Egmont und
Beethovens Schauspielmusik eine gliickliche Ehe eingegangen sind?" to which
he dutifully replied: "Ich denke eine sehr, sehr gliickliche Ehe." If the pistols in
the cartoon had been replaced by shotguns, his answer might have been valid.
Yet Kreidl did try ingeniously to blend the two, cutting and rearranging
Goethe's text, replacing the difficult vision scene at the end with a new apotheo-
sis for Egmont and the citizens (thus providing appropriate action for the
Siegessymphonie), and playing some scenes simultaneously (Egmont/Richard,
Parma/Machiavell, Egmont/Oranien), but his efforts were almost bound to fail.
In the same interview he made this interesting comment on his conception:
"Wenn ich mir den ganzen Rhythmus der Geschichte vergegenwartige, habe ich
das Gefiihl, dafi Goedie eigentlich so eine Art modernes Drehbuch geschrieben
hat. Eine Szene nach der anderen. Und es ist, glaube ich, kein Zufall, daft es
keinen einzigen 'Cut' gibt — abgesehen von der Pause. Es fliefc, es fliefit wie ein
Drehbuch. Lauter Uberblendungen und lauter Veranderungen." Some critics
sensed Kreidl's insight into the play's potential cinematic structure (Hans G.
Schiirmann, "he" in Annonce), and of course the entire idea of having ongoing
musical accompaniment to a dramatic action is integral to modern film tech-
nique, which I shall presently explore.
Austrian and Swiss Stages
Vienna 1971,1981,1982
Vienna's Burgtheater has been for more than two centuries one of the best
German-speaking stages. Its 1971 Egmont, directed by Dietrich Haugk, was
based on Goethe's five-act version with the full cast of characters, yet with
the curious program note "Einrichtung (nach Schillers Recension) und Regie:
Dietrich Haugk." As the full typescript text of the prompt book shows, this re-
fers to textual adjustments which offset several of the dramatic weaknesses
Schiller pointed out in his review, some of which are also to be found in his ad-
aptation. The prompt book indicates a division into twelve "Bilder" which cor-
respond to the main places and stages of action in Goethe's version, but with
several major changes. The opening Burgher scene "Armbrustschiefien" and the
Burgher scene to open Act n are both changed to "Wirtshaus - Stammtisch."
Albas character and motivation are linked closely to his ardent Roman Catholi-
cism. The eleventh Bild consists of the first scene in "Klarchen's Zimmer" (in
Goethe's Act n), played simultaneously beside the "Gefangnis" (Goethe's
Act v). The concluding vision is absent, the play ending thus:
EGMONT: Schiitzt Eure Guter! Und Euer Liebstes zu erretten fallt freudig, wie ich Euch
ein Beispiel gebe!
(Der Degen des Offiziers saust hernieder, das Peloton schiefit, Egmont zuckt todlich getroffen
zusammen. Das Volk schreit auf Die Trommeln reissen ab.
[Schrifttafel II: Dreizehn Jahre sfdter sagen sick die Niederlander unter Wilhelm von
Oranien von der spanischen Hemchaft los.J (prompt book, 82)
Director Haugk offered an Egmont which for the most part remained true to
Goethe's original, yet in adjusting it to Schiller's concept, and by introducing
some substantial, even radical, changes, such as the ending above, he obviously
saw neither of his forerunners' work as sacrosanct. He has the agitator Vansen
cut down and murdered by Alba's troops, as the citizens passively look on.
Egmont's harsh execution was meaningfully prepared by the simultaneity of
Klarchen's "Zimmer" scene (in which she views the woodcut and declares her
adoration of the hero of Gravelines) and "Gefangnis" (in which the hero is re-
duced to hallucinatory desperation on a prison bed), an innovation which, as
we might expect, some critics praised as "grofiartig," others derided as "einen
iiberaus selbstherrlichen, ganz krassen Effekt."33 But audiences and critics gen-
erally appreciated Haugk's balance of traditional classical production and mod-
ern innovation. The leading daily Die Presse best voiced the judgement of
several critics, calling the production "Eine packende Aufruhrung mit
entschiedenen Konturen. Ein bemerkenswerter Abend der 'Burg'," and this
bore more weight in the end than those who objected to the innovations or
found the night boring.
The rewritten ending shows that Haugk's innovations were an attempt to
give his Egmont some modern political relevance. While there is no direct polit-
ical reference in the production, the "Schrifttafeln" hung here (and in other
places) are in effect a Brechtian technique to remove the action from its fictional
sphere and link it to the audiences own day. Other aspects of the set also con-
tributed. Basically, Roman Weyl's sets and costumes were realistic, with back-
drops used to show a silhouette of Brussels for the citizen scenes, a handful of
period props, and historically designed costumes to evoke the sixteenth-century
Netherlands. Beethoven had even given way to motets and choral music from
the court of Philipp II. But from the start the curtain was open, the sets and
props were changed from scene to scene in view of the audience, and many
characters, citizens, and soldiers, remained present throughout at stage front,
facing the audience, linking the fictitious world of stage action with the reality
of life in 1971. With the ongoing presence of a threatening physical force before
their eyes the Viennese public could not help but think of the Russians' march
into Prague two years before, an invasion of sovereignty which by 1971 had left
an oppressive regime at their doorstep.
Despite this modern undertone, the production rightly bolstered Haugk's
reputation as a reliable and sensitive interpreter of classical works. This comes
out strikingly in his handling of the minor characters and nonspeaking extras.
The prompt book lists an astonishingly large cast for the production, including
"7 niederlandische Miliz, Diener Egmonts, Sekretar, Wirt, 4 Burger, 8 Burger, 3
Begleiter Egmonts, 15 spanische Wachen, i Trommler, 10 Offiziere der spani-
schen Wache, n spanische Offiziere, i Priester, Schlufisoldaten" (facing title
page), more than sixty-three extra characters beyond those with speaking parts.
The only production since 1970 that can compare is Weimar in 1979, and as we
chuckled then at the massive employment of extras on a GDR stage, we must
now surely marvel at Austria's magnanimous commitment to the arts, com-
bined, no doubt, with some degree of "Vetternwirtschaft." Having so many
people on stage created problems and challenges for directors Fritz Bennewitz in
Weimar and Haugk in Vienna that most others did not face. We recall the
painstaking detail with which the huge cast in Weimar was choreographed.
Haugk's work was no less well orchestrated. The prompt book is a remarkable
document, not just of the textual adaptation, but of optical effects achieved, es-
pecially in those scenes involving the crowds of citizens and soldiers. Many
scenes carry a wealth of intricate drawings and instructions which show the de-
tailed positioning and movement of these groups in relation to the dialogue and
developing action, ongoing scenic changes, and the accompanying music (e.g.,
prompt book, facing pp. i, 48, 64, 66-9). These scenes were not just played,
they were choreographed, and as in the case of Weimar, one is reminded of
Goethe's own theatre aesthetics and the overriding importance of the images left
in the audience's mind by comprehensive visual effects.
Peter Palitzsch's Egmont in the Burgtheater eleven years later provides an in-
structive comparison. Previewed in July at the Bregenzer Festspiele before mov-
ing to the Burgtheater in October, this production is an excellent case in point
to show the balance of power beteen textual and visual elements. Already with a
reputation as an experimenter, Palitzsch's production was almost uniformly

panned by critics, with some of the familiar epithets used against unconven-
tional directors of the seventies: "Fadenscheiniges Regietheater" and "Peter Pa-
litzsch hat am Burgtheater Goethes 'Egmont' inszeniert. Das Ergebnis steht als
exemplarische Warnung vor der unvermeidlichen Selbstausbeutung eines iiber-
lasteten Regisseurs."34 As with the almost uniformly critical rejection of Noelte's
Diisseldorf production in the same year, of the eighteen reviews I have con-
sulted, only one is positive; the others reject it, and usually with vehemence.35
Here is a sampling from the negative reviews:
Die Nachrichten, die uns aus Bregenz erreichten, liefien nichts Gutes erwarten. ... Das
Wiener Publikum, vorgewarnt, traf das Debakel dennoch mit lahmendem Entsetzen: ein
Goethe-Exorzismus. (Ludwig Plakolb, Oberosterreichische Nachrichten, 5 October 1982);
Es envies sich, dafi die Kenntnis sowohl des Stiicks als auch seines historischen Umfelds
unbedingt mitzubringen sind; denn wer Peter Palitzschs "Inszenierung" genannte Verun-
staltung des ... Charakterdramas ... fur bare Mtinze nimmt, der bleibt ahnungslos, was
die Handlung und ihre dichterischen Hintergriinde angeht. (Rudolf U. Klaus, Wiener
Zeitung, 5 October 1982); and
Das Drama heiEt jedoch "Egmont", ist von Goethe, und markiert in der Inszenierung
von Peter Palitzsch einen darstellerischen Tiefpunkt am Burgtheater. (Karin Kathrein,
Die Presse, 5 October 1982).
As I asked in Diisseldorf where the director went wrong in the eyes of the critics
and public, so must I ask here - and it is instructive to discover that the answers
lead to very different conclusions: Did Palitszch mangle the play as these critics
would have us believe? They objected to the many instances of off-beat, surreal-
istic staging, costuming, and lighting: the opening scene played on a see-saw
over a beer barrel, citizens with blue balloons, papier-mache clowns' noses and
antennae, a lurid madonna statue carried through the scene between Alba and
Egmont, the incongruous projection of transparencies (for example Miinch-
hausen) on a backdrop, an Egmont and Klarchen scene played apparently naked
in bed, the defeated citizens cowering with gray noses in a heap of garden furni-
ture, Brackenburg's washing Klarchen's feet on the street as she calls her compa-
triots to arms - the whole interspersed with unrelated, unidentifiable, and
disturbing musical passages.'6 Most of this dissatisfaction has to do with optical
elements, but at the same time several critics praise set and costume designer
Herbert Kapplmiiller for much interesting visual stimulation. The problem for
most was, what did it have to do with Goethe's text and Egmonfi Then there is
the repeated complaint that the text itself is delivered in a flat, detached, or even
flippant style, which renders it meaningless and impotent. Reviewers further
criticize the weak attempt to link the production with obvious politically
relevant contemporary events, such as Lech Walesa's concurrent struggle in Po-

land. Indeed, while the program contains many references to contemporary ex-
amples of political aggression as well as to well known figures from recent and
past times, for example, to Che Guevara, Archbishop Romero, Martin Luther
King, the Geschwister Scholl, even as far back as Spartacus, the program's politi-
cal reference to the play itself is limited to a very general sense of civic weakness
in the face of foreign aggression.
To what extent was the devastating criticism of audiences and reviewers de-
served? If we turn to the typed prompt book, a disregard for Goethe's text is not
apparent. Although it is divided now into fourteen "Bilder" instead of five acts,
it is indeed Goethe's full text, with very little manipulation of scenic order.
There is some tightening and cutting, of course, but certainly not to an unusual
extent, in fact as few or fewer deletions are made than those made in Haugk's
1971 version or in many of the other successful — and critically lauded — produc-
tions I have discussed. The fact is, Palitzsch played the words of Goethe's text as
loyally as any other classical director of the time. What is more, he even in-
cluded a version of the final vision scene, something that most of them no
longer dared. But he had his actors deliver the text with little declamatory ef-
fect, relying rather on the staging and many innovative, curious and bizarre im-
ages to inject his own ideas, connections, and sense of contemporary relevance.
Palitzsch's production could be said to have failed because he abandoned him-
self to the image to the neglect of the text, instead of marrying the two in his
overall concept.
One year earlier, in 1981, EgmontlÂ. been mounted by Vienna's Volkstheater,
temporarily in the Messepalast, for which most critics made them pay dearly.
With few adjustments, this version remained true to Goethe's text, with no di-
rect attempt at modern political relevance. Its most distinguishing features were
Gerhard Jax's modernistic simultaneous set with several playing areas and the
fact that Georg Lhotsky, known foremost for his work in television and film,
was director. However, judging from the voice of the critics, this combination
did not lead to memorable innovation.37
Other Austrian Stages
Egmont was also staged at the Landestheater in Innsbruck (1977) and the Elisa-
bethbiihne in Salzburg (1990), but in both cases records are sparse. The Inns-
bruck production, directed by Oswald Fuchs, was a mixture of Goethe's and
Schiller's versions widi Beethoven's music, but left no record of acclaim (Die
Buhne, June 1977, 18). On Salzburg's Elisabethbiihne in 1990 Goethe's version
was directed by Renate Rustler-Ourth with sets designed by Jonas Arcikauskas.
Pictures of the production show a mixture of historical and timelessly stylized
costumes, with an abstract modern set. The program is just as abstract. Further
information from both of these theatres was not forthcoming.
Z59 Goethe and Egmont Today
Zurich 1970
The Egmont at the Schauspielhaus in Zurich (with guest performances in Win-

terthur and Schaffhausen) was directed by the veteran Harry Buckwitz, who of-
fered Goethe's version without musical accompaniment of any sort. This was
Buckwitz's first production as "Generalintendant" in Zurich, after serving as
such from 1945-51 at the Kammerspiele in Munich and 1951-68 at Frankfurt's
Stadtische Biihnen. Zurich was still reeling from a bout of radical directing the
previous year, and Buckwitz was obviously appointed to get the venerable
Schauspielhaus back on a more acceptable track. The program booklet itself is a
good indicator of this reform, containing a brief general summary of the political
themes of Egmont by a professorial J.R. von Salis, an historical summary of the
Netherlandic revolt with selected contemporary pictures, a brief excerpt from
Karl Jaspers on the subject of political power and freedom, and, most impor-
tantly, a lengthy explanation by Buckwitz of his philosophy and goals for the
production. "Ich habe den Versuch unternommen," he states, "ein klassisches
Stuck dem gewohnten Inszenierungsklischee zu entziehen und ihm durch das
Klarlegen seiner auch heute noch giiltigen Grundsituationen vielleicht eine neue
Aufmerksamkeit zu erringen." It becomes evident that the "heute noch gultigen
Grundsituationen" he means are the political problems surrounding the figure of
Egmont, in other words the play's political sphere (Egmont-Parma/Oranien/
Alba), as opposed to the private one (Egmont-Klarchen). He continues: "Eine
Regiekonzeption, die sich auf die rationalen Zusammenhange des Goethe-Stoffs
konzentriert, muss sich zwangslaufig von alien folkloristischen und lyrisch-
sentimentalen Passagen trennen." This is his justification for eliminating the
opening scene "Armbrustschiefien" (moved to a Wirtshaus), Klarchen's songs,
and of course the final vision scene. One begins to be disturbed by Buckwitz's
parched landscape with its stimulus from "rationale Zusammenhange" alone.
Since when did art show its best through reason? And what of Egmont's fabled
"attrativa" or the power of "das Damonische" over his actions, both surely irra-
tional forces? Regarding the visual dimension, Buckwitz goes on to say, Emile
Angeloz's set "wurde mit Bedacht so abstrahiert, dass fur eine Lokalisierung des
Geschehens auf das mittelalterliche Briissel kein Anhaltspunkt gegeben wird.
Ebenso wurde eine gewisse Zeitlosigkeit der Kostume [Anne Abegglen] an-
gestrebt. Historische Verengungen sollten dadurch vermieden werden." This
might have made the production visually universal and atemporal, but judging
from the many photographs available in the Zurich Stadtarchiv, in optical terms
it was uncommonly dull. One discovers from the reviews that this was set-
designer Angeloz's first experience on the stage, Buckwitz having invited his part-
nership after admiring one of Angeloz's immense concrete sculptures in front of a
bank in Freiburg/Breisgau. No wonder the plastic artist accepted "nach einigem
Zogern!"38 His sets, like the sculpture that won him the job, consisted of four
moveable walls of massive grey-green concrete-like blocks and beams. They
2.6o Images of Goethe through Schiller's Egmont
offered precious little to delight the senses. It is also hard to imagine more boring
costumes: nondescript, dark tunics (some critics called it the Mao-look), suits
and dresses, the only exceptions being a khaki jeans suit and a modesdy deco-
rated tunic with chain and pendant for Egmont in the "Spanish" scene. Perhaps
this is why the program contains no pictures of the production, but instead a
rather exciting shot from the previous one, Vater Ubu. Buckwitz seems to have
wilfully suppressed the play's visual elements in favour of emphasizing the text.
Exactly what text was played? Three archived Strichbucher, the most detailed
of which appears to be the prompt book, the other two textbooks with notes for
the stage manager and technical crew, make this clear. The latter contain re-
markably few directions for lighting, sound, props, or staging - far fewer than
other examples I have discussed; it seems from them that technically there was
not much going on. Goethe's text (Stuttgart: Reclam 1968) in five acts was
played in twelve Bilder, a normal constellation for the modern stage, and with
few exceptions Buckwitz has maintained the order of Goethe's scenes. The ex-
ceptions are a combination of the two scenes in Klarchen's house into one,
played at the end of Goethe's Act n; and the addition of a brief new scene
"Schafottplatz" to replace Goethe's visionary conclusion. Egmont dies without
hope. While these changes are relatively insignificant, the reduction of overall
text is anything but normal. Buclcwhz's cuts are massive, and occur in all scenes
except the three central political discussions: Parma-Machiavell, Egmont-
Oranien, and Egmont-Alba. In contrast, the Klarchen-Egmont "spanisch"
scene has been pared to the bone, with the optical highlight of Klarchen's reac-
tion to her lover's finery deleted in toto. Later, her famous "Weifit du, wo meine
Heimat ist?" to Brackenburg is gone, eliminating the possibility of the play's
moving in the end to another level of reality. Consistent with this, only a shred
of Egmont's dream in prison is left, and of course the vision is replaced by the
scaffold. Buckwitz reduced the text to the level of a distilled political debate, but
unlike many other productions, the Zurich program contained no reference to
modern politics. Some reviewers suggested Alexander Dubcek as a model for
the Egmont they saw, and indeed many an audience member may have thought
along those lines, but certainly not at the overt suggestion of the director. He
tried to let this part of the text speak for itself.
It is instructive to look at the reactions of audiences and reviewers to this pro-
duction. What from the extant documents seems a thematically distorted and
theatrically boring rendition was received warmly by half the critics and rejected
outright by the other half. This surely tells us that neither deserves the last
word. To the bafflement of some of them the audience applauded warmly at the
premiere, though one cannot be sure if they did so as an acknowledgement of
the production's merits, as an expression of gratitude that the wild days of
Regietheaterwere over, or as a civil Swiss welcome to the new intendant. It is no-
ticeable that several reviewers suppordvely used much of Buckwitz's own termi-
nology and argument from the program notes, judging it along the lines of
"sehr schon ... eine kluge, stille und ernsthafte Inszenierung" (Carl Holenstein,
Neue Ziircher Nachrichten, 26 Sept. 1970), while by contrast more than one
called it the equivalent of "grausam." One provided this insightful comment:
"Siegfried Melchinger hat einmal in einem Artikel iiber die 'Gegenwart der
Klassiker' der Aktualisierung, die er ablehnt, die Vergegenwartigung empfeh-
lend gegeniibergestellt. Sie wurde in dieser Inszenierung zwar angestrebt, aber
nicht erreicht, weil man iiber dem politischen den bildschaffenden Goethe ver-
nachlassigt hat" (Heidi Baur, Der Landbote, 4 Nov. 1970). I agree with this, but
many in Ziirich in 1970 appeared satisfied.39
Egmont on Film
We cannot today ignore the power of visually oriented media. How many people
are exposed to plays and novels by seeing them adapted for television or film? In
her keynote address at the most recent Canadian Federation for die Humanities
Corporate Humanist Awards celebration, Meriel Bradford, Associate Vice-
President of Teleglobe Canada delivered this bold opinion: "As a society we have
almost completely abandoned the visual order of print and adjusted to the non-
reality of the instantaneous disjointed images of TV and multimedia. Is it any
wonder that North Americans have trouble distinguishing 'reality' from 'illu-
sion, when the average inhabitant of this continent consumes 7 hours a day of
TV (up from 51/2 hours a day when McLuhan published his breakthrough
books; 12)?" One might quibble about die precise number of hours, but certainly
not with the trend, or point out that this is North America, not Europe, but Ger-
many is assuredly not far behind, as anyone who has travelled there recendy
knows. The satellite dish has become one of the distinguishing features of mod-
ern German architecture. One might challenge the credibility of diis speaker, a
technocrat representing a corporate media giant, but hers is a voice sympathetic to
the humanities, to literature and the arts, and we must listen to it. It is also the
voice of our youth, our students, and future generations of academics. If we can
overcome our initial dismay about such a statement, we find a gem at its core, for
if the gradual takeover of the visual media has led to confusion in viewers' minds
about the distinction between reality and illusion, then what an opportunity this
offers to writers of fiction, playwrights among them! Through the medium of
film they can extend enormously the basic strategy of every writer — weaving re-
ality with illusion - and they can do so to an extent that has never been possible
before. If they do it well they will have audiences no longer in the tens, or hun-
dreds, or even thousands, but in the millions. This is worth trying, at least.
Canadian writer Paul Quarrington remarked recently, "You don't want to
have been a promising novelist and then become a screenwriter. That's a career
path I really didn't want; then you go on to TV, and then to being a drunk" (52).
His tongue-in-cheek scepticism about the literary value of television and film
scripts is shared by many, especially among the ranks of literary scholars, but
z6x Images of Goethe through Schiller's Egmont
there is a considerable difference between a film script alone and a film based on
a literary work, adapted for the new medium, which is our concern now. These
have the potential to go beyond the text and utilize the powers of the visual
media to explore dimensions in new ways. Many modern films of literary works
have been recognized by literary scholars as worthwhile interpretations (see
Estermann, Paech, Rach, Rentschler, and many others). It is worth examining
the extent to which this has been the case with Egmont films as well.
At least eight Egmont films have been produced since 1919, the majority for
television: 4°
Egmont. Union-Film. 1922. Drehbuch Franz Seitz und Alfred Schirokauer.

Egmont. Aafa (Deutschland). 192.3. Regisseur Rudolf Dworsky.
Egmont. Sender Freies Berlin. 1954. Television.
Egmont. Hessischer Rundfunk. 1962. Television.
Egmont. DDR-F. 1974. Regisseur Helmut Schiemann, Dramaturg Klaus Helbig.
Komponist Ruth Zechlin. Kamera Harri Miinzhardt. Television.
Egmont. BRD. 1982. Fernsehfassung von Hans Gottschalk und Franz Peter
Wirth. Musik Eugen Thomass. [Television.]
Held und Antiheld: Einblicke in zwei Inszeniemngen (Egmont undPrinz Friedrich
von Hamburg). ZDF. 1987. Television.
Egmont. DDR-F. 1988. Regisseur Margot Thyret, Dramaturg Karin Freitag.
Inszenierung Friedo Solter. Komponist Uwe Hilprecht, Kamera Bernd Miiller.
Filmed at the Deutsches Theater in Berlin. Television.
I have seen the 1974,1982 and 1987 films; in addition, films of the stage produc-
tions in Diisseldorf (1982) and Berlin, Deutsches Theater (1986) as well as a full-
length film of the Frankfurt production on which the 1987 ZDF film was based.
The 1988 Egmont filmed at the Deutsches Theater in Berlin is essentially the
production I saw on videotape there, which was directed by Solter.
Sophisticated film analysis requires a methodology which takes into account
the full range of dimensions incorporated in text, acting, and the technical as-
pects of filming and film production. I cannot offer such a sophisticated analysis
here, but based on the films I have been able to view, shall attempt some observa-
tions on Egmont from the perspective of that medium.41 It would seem logical
first to divide these into three groups, films of stage productions (Diisseldorf
1982, Berlin, Deutsches Theater 1988), films made specifically as such (Schie-
mann 1974, Wirth 1982), and then the remarkable example of the Frankfurt hy-
brid (1987) which, it can be argued, managed to be both at the same time.
Films of Stage Productions
Many, if today not most, major theatres videotape their productions for archival
records. These films are not intended for release, and hence no effort is made to
adapt the performance to the nature of that medium. A fixed single camera
shoots the full stage head-on, perhaps with the capacity for close-ups from time
to time, but without sophisticated movement or tight shots, and without the
special lighting required for high technical quality. The actors, of course, are
playing to a live audience, their movements, the sets, the costumes all designed
to be perceived from a distance. Accordingly, when theatrical techniques are
filmed, they often look artificial to viewers who are used to sophisticated cine-
matography and a type of realism that theatre performance cannot deliver. Nev-
ertheless, films of stage performances can contribute to a better understanding
of what the stage version was really like.
Two major characteristics of the igSz Diisseldorf Egmont become clearer
when viewing the film. To any observer, its most distinguishing feature is with-
out a doubt the prevailing gloom on stage, penetrated only in fragments of
space and time by the light streaming through the window as the single light
source. Noelte's famous "Lichtregie" provides striking effects in shadows and
contrasts, illuminating some characters as they speak, casting others into shad-
ows or absolute darkness, symbolic dimensions which go beyond the text. An-
other productive consequence of this light play is the heightened significance of
the window itself, a symbol linked with the general notion of image-making
and image-building discussed in chapter 5. Alba, for example, stands at the
window as Egmont arrives for their crucial discussion, so that his description of
Egmont's horse, another central metaphor in the text, assumes a prominence
that it rarely does in other productions, as does the spatial significance of Eg-
mont outside and Alba within. It is as if the glory of Egmont's brightness
streams in over Alba to smother the darkness this character embodies. Yet the
interplay between light and darkness has at times negative effects, particularly
with regard to details of acting and costume. The shaft of light is so narrow that
scenes such as Egmont's Spanish appearance to Klarchen and the interplay be-
tween them become ineffectual, lost in the gloom.
The second noticeable characteristic of this production is its overall pace.
Four elements control the length of any play, the amount of text spoken, the
pace of delivery, the time taken for acting without text, and the time taken for
intervals, including scene changes and intermissions. The Diisseldorf Egmont
lasted some three and a half hours, yet the pace of the actors' delivery can only
be described as breakneck. The length of this Egmont was not the result of
plumbing the nuances of its text, but rather the cumbersome scene changes and
periods of dull inactivity, punctuated only by coughs and shuffling. Critics
complained that Noelte did injustice to Goethe's text despite the fact that in
comparison with many other productions he remained loyal to the original, and
this was because the pace of delivery gave insufficient time for the actors to pro-
vide adequate verbal and gestural nuances, a situation worsened by the overrid-
ing gloom. Thus, although none of the critics put it this way, Noelte's Egmont
denied the text's potential by drastically reducing the partnership between that
text and the visual elements which make it come alive, the actors' mime and
gestures, and the effects of spacing, costumes, and sets. In his focus on light,
Noelte cast into darkness some of the play's potentially greatest strengths and
produced a version which was technically true to the original but in effect a
counterfeit.
The filmed Deutsches Theater production (Berlin, 1988) can add a good deal
to what we learned from the reviews. Colour symbolism prevails throughout,
from Egmont's red scarf at his first appearance and Klarchen's change to a bright
red dress as she calls her fellow citizens to arms, to the interplay of red, white,
and blue lighting, suggesting the era of the French Revolution when Egmont
was first performed. Klarchen's house with its precipitously sloped floor and
waist-high walls soon becomes fully understandable, as do the actors' adjust-
ments to play within it. With its dangerous slope and insufficient privacy, it is a
visual symbol of the citizens' lot. As in Dusseldorf, light and darkness are played
off against each other in this production, but this time with much more illumi-
nation for the actors to demonstrate their acting skills. For example, Egmont's
appearance to Klarchen in Spanish attire is accompanied by a devilish little
dance to parody his status as Knight of the Golden Fleece and the hierarchy that
created it. In several scenes of key debate (Egmont-Oranien, Egmont-Alba), the
characters face the audience side-by-side stage front, heightening the dialectics
of their speeches and drawing their listeners into intellectual involvement. Eg-
mont's arrest occurs with startling suddenness by means of trick panels which
turn to reveal a wall of Spanish soldiers. And in the prison scene, Egmont
mimes his dream of Klarchen, reminiscent of Iffland's classic interpretation in
1796, which was adopted by Beschort and many thereafter. Egmont then re-
moves his chain of the Golden Fleece, an action not in the text, completing the
mime play on it in the Klarchen scene before. The film of the Berlin production
shows many such elements which demonstrate a greater awareness of the visual
dimensions than Dusseldorf, and how they can enhance the spoken text.
Films
Schiemann 1974 Helmut Schiemann's Egmont was produced on the occasion

of the 225th anniversary of Goethe's birth. Loyal and respectful to Goethe's text,
it is an excellent example of how dull and artificial a reverent filming of classical
works can be. There are indeed grand period costumes, but the impression is
more of figures in a gallery than of real people. Costume and set colours are so
well coordinated that one is conscious of careful staging rather than of realism.
The set is largely restricted to interior space, the citizens' scenes lifelessly con-
trived and boring, their streets devoid of sets, scenery, or atmosphere, and even
the liberating potential of the window remains unused; in fact it becomes an
opaque interior surface that is little more than a lifeless prop. The actors' perfor-
mances are understated and low-key, sometimes lifeless, giving little sense of the
passion of surrounding events. This is especially disappointing in the scenes of-

fering the most potential to actors, such as Egmont's Spanish appearance to
Klarchen, when his dark tunic and white collar suggest an undertaker rather
than a glorious Spanish Knight of the Golden Fleece. That he and Klarchen are
sadly miscast, to the degree that they look more like father and daughter than
playful lovers, is perhaps indicative of the ranking among GDR actors than sensi-
tivity to the drama, so that the "climactic" kiss placed on Klarchen's forehead
actually seems rather appropriate. The finale is changed, with Egmont's insipid
monologue resulting in an uninspiring appearance by Klarchen with flag in
hand, accompanied by a populace as limp and hopeless as ever. There is no sign
of the "Siegesfahne" among them in a conclusion obviously designed to do any-
thing but arouse the revolutionary fervour of GDR citizens. In a muted endorse-
ment, the review in Theater der Zeit (1974:10) used neutral epithets such as
"Achtung vor dem Werk," "Die Inszenierung ist nicht auf vordergriindige Ak-
tualitat aus," and "asthetischer Genufi," but most viewers would remain hungry
for different fare.
Wirthiy82 The Gottschalk/Wirth Egmont comes off considerably better. This

production is also generally true to Goethe's text, though significantly short-
ened, attempting to depict the sixteenth century without overt contemporary
reference. It adds a prelude in which the court discusses the political situation,
explaining all with the aid of maps and charts. The scenic variety is much richer
in this production than in the last, with interior and exterior environments ex-
plored. The exterior scenes are particularly striking, since drey bring to life the
appearance and atmosphere of Brussels streets and the climate of terror during
the occupation. There are also views of the natural countryside — a refreshing
optical change from the urban and interior settings - and some of these grand
views of huge arching boughs suggest Egmont's powerful tree metaphor (com-
pare [260]) and Ferdinand's deeply rooted natural relationship with Alba.
Horses too are prominent, for example, Egmont's appearance on horseback
among the townsfolk, and also at his approach to Alba. Several interior scenes
gain effect through tight camera focus, for example, Alba's monologue at the
window upon Egmont's approach, which underscores the division between
their two spheres of activity. The love scene with Egmont in Spanish costume is
delightfully spontaneous as the glorious garment is revealed to a squealing
Klarchen. The political conflict is central to this film, and various camera tech-
niques are used to explore it beyond the text itself. While Egmont is seen among
the people in widely panning shots, he is often shown in tight close-ups from a
perspective below, so that his height and authority are emphasized, but in the
final act when he is imprisoned, he falls to the ground and in the end is be-
headed, kneeling timidly and obediently to a greater authority above. Despite
the allegiance to Goethe's text, this rewritten conclusion leaves him a fallen hero
without any suggestion of apotheosis and calls into question the very concepts
of political power and authority. On the whole, this film is a conservative inter-
pretation of Egmont, but it uses many of the advantages of its medium to en-
hance the text and the action.
A Beautiful Hybrid The Egmont portion of the 1987 ZDF film Held undAnti-
held, based in part on the 1986 production in the Schauspielhaus in Frankfurt, is
far and away the most interesting cinematographic treatment to date. This is re-
markable since it results from a pure stage performance - there was no intention
initially to produce the work for the screen. For years, stage works have been
filmed for replay on television, the result being usually at best a "stagey" film, at
worst a boring caricature. The stage is a medium in which the word and the im-
age are best joined to maximum effect, but in film there is no doubt that the
image predominates. One only need compare the massive power of visual im-
ages in modern films with the accompanying paltry scripted component to
demonstrate this imbalance. Stage productions generally translate into dull
films because their first task is to deliver the word, while the visual elements
(acting, movement, spacing, costumes, sets, lighting, sound) serve mainly as
enhancement of that text, and although some dramatic productions use all the
visual means at the disposal of modern theatre technology, the extent to which
this can be done always depends on the nature of the text and the leanings of
the director. Filming theatre usually does not work, but it succeeded resound-
ingly in Frankfurt for two reasons: the stage production used the visual dimen-
sion cleverly and extensively and the filming techniques themselves were varied
and inventive. It is significant, too, that it is by far the most brightly lit of any
production I have considered.
Many viewers saw the ZDF program with its excerpts from the stage show, but
almost none of them saw the videotape of the full production, the same kind of
document I discussed in conjunction with the productions in Diisseldorf and the
Deutsches Theater in Berlin. The Frankfurt production on videotape reinforces
the impact of many of the innovative and interesting production elements dis-
cussed earlier. Other aspects are noticeable, among them the brighter lighting of
many scenes and the illuminated house. The play begins with a set completely
blackened, except for Klarchen at her window, in a deep corner, stage rear and
back lit. A brilliant jewel of light penetrates the blackness like a ray through a
pinhole, a point of illumination that sparks our senses from the start and leaves a
lucid imprint on our mind's eye. This is, literally and figuratively, an outstanding
visual incorporation of the window motif I discussed in chapter 5. We are struck
further in the videotape by the almost seamless transitions between scenes. Audi-
ence members in Diisseldorf, Berlin, and likely many of the other theatres I have
discussed, were treated to much darkness, dead time, and distracting noises, as
props and sets were moved between scenes, but in Frankfurt the video shows a
superb smoothing of transitions with the aid of music and outstanding technical
expertise, without interruptions or intrusions of noise, without disturbance of
the aesthetic flow of the drama. The changes from scene to scene in Frankfurt
were like movie transitions, seamless, smooth, magical.
A comparison of the video and television versions reveals the inadequacies of
the former as well. One of the most theatrically spectacular scenes is Egmont's
appearance "spanisch" to Klarchen. The costume is a scarlet travesty of mascu-
line vanity, and Egmont plays it to the hilt as a drag queen in lingerie, complete
with Spanish dance to castanets. It is a double parody of Egmont's role as a
Knight of the Golden Fleece and as lover. The glaring colour of Egmont's outfit
against Klarchen's pure white gives the scene a glorious visual dimension, incor-
porating lust and purity, but most importantly, the scene is pure theatrical fun.
It didn't need the medium of film to be effective; it elicited roars of delight and
approval from the Frankfurt audience, and it was this type of scene that attracted
the television network to consider recording and rebroadcasting the production.
In the video version, however, the scene is shot at such a distance that most of its
effect is lost, a testimony to the importance of more sophisticated filming. A dif-
ferent sort of scene, but an equally innovative and interesting one, is Hilsdorf s
reconstructed conclusion, in which Egmont is given a fool's cap on a rocking
horse, a travesty of his former self, before escaping the theatrical space by walk-
ing through the audience to rise up once again. This sequence is much more ef-
fective in the television version because of the varied and sometimes close film
shots. The best example of film technique is Egmont atop his massive horse. For
the most part, the theatre audience saw a frontal view, as we see in the video ver-
sion of die scene, which is powerful simply because of the massive size of the
horse and its intensely white illumination. But the television camera moves, first
showing the horse from the perspective of the theatre audience, then from below
as Oranien enters and pleads with Egmont to descend. This second camera an-
gle changes our impression to show Egmont aloof, distant, autocratic, arrogant,
and cold. Thus, a film technique enhances our understanding of the text,
stretching a stage performance beyond what it could be on its own.
These scenes, and our previous discussion of Hilsdorf s interpretation, might
suggest that he does not respect the sources, that he adapts unnecessarily, and
distorts bizarrely, but in his comments on film between scenes of the play Hils-
dorf reveals a convincing sobriety toward his undertaking, a deep respect for
Goethe and the classical tradition, a fine sensitivity to textual nuance, and an
earnest desire to connect Egmont to the citizens of Frankfurt. The television
viewer is treated both to the play and to Hilsdorf s insights, a process of analysis,
while enjoying its aesthetic effects. Hilsdorf explains the three-part stage, the
tri-temporal costuming, the political slogans which hang over the audience
space, and his understanding of numerous individual scenes, but it is the film
footage of diese scenes that are the most impressive, for the way they are shot
adds dimensions beyond that experienced by audiences in the theatre. It is a tes-
timony to Hilsdorf that his production was able to transcend the boundaries of
theatre space and gain access to enormously increased audiences in their homes.
Conclusion
In the Introduction I expressed my hope of offering new insights into Egmont

and its author from a different point of view. I focussed at first on the play as
text, an object of traditional literary study by Germanists and those interested in
German drama. But the first three chapters, which introduced and critically re-
produced a forgotten manuscript of Schiller's Egmont and discussed it within
terms of performance, led us beyond text to other semiological systems that can
be considered when dealing with dramatic literature. My conviction that text is
the fundamental point of reference for dramatic literature remains, but I trust
that the remaining chapters of this book have convinced readers of the necessity
for explorations beyond the text qua text, in order to understand the full signif-
icance of Egmont, as well as of other dramatic works. This was evident first in
chapter 4, within Goethe's contemporary setting, through the reactions of crit-
ics and audiences to the play. That insight showed as well that insistence on loy-
alty to a playwright's text is folly, for from the earliest productions, Egmont was
never performed slavishly according to the version Goethe delivered, and the
same can be said of virtually every dramatic work in the German tradition and
beyond. The real question is, how was the work adapted and how received, first
in Goethe's age, then through time until our own?
To answer this question I turned to the notion of image and its dimensions,
first in chapter 5 through the text itself, by studying metaphorical and physical
suggestions that require actors, readers, or viewers to use their eyes and imagina-
tions to visualize scenes and comprehend meaning. The next three chapters
demonstrated that a consideration of the concept of image in artistic, personal,
and social terms further expands our understanding. We must differentiate
between actors as stage characters, as celebrities, and as private citizens. In
2.69 Conclusion
Goethe's case we must differentiate between the playwright's image as actor, au-
thor, director, and cultural manager, indeed now even as a national icon. Finally,
our discussion of modern Egmont productions and films in chapter 9 investi-
gated the relevance of both the play and its author for our times.
The most important conclusion lies here, the conviction that Egmont has
proven relevant for audiences today through innovative direction and produc-
tion on many stages and screens, often on the strength of its visual elements. In
fact it has increased in relevance, for now it is not just an investigation of politi-
cal oppression, individual liberty, and the psyche of a protagonist wavering be-
tween the two; rather, every performance has become a reevaluation of Goethe
as a central figure of German literary and cultural tradition.
From time to time I suggested that Egmont should be seen as paradigmatic
for Goethe's development. Its genesis and influence on him spanned his mature
lifetime, its content touched on individual and social predicaments and drew
parallels between the present and the historical past, its protagonists daemon
was in many respects Goethe's own. We may recall Benjamin Bennett's claim
that Egmont is central in the development of European theatre after German
classicism. Some will not accept this, arguing that a similar case could be made
for other works, and perhaps they would be right. But perhaps they would
accept my thesis that Egmont exemplifies a transition from the pre-nineteenth-
century primacy of text to that of image in our own time, that this shift parallels
Goethe's development as a man of the theatre, and that in this he showed him-
self a forerunner of the modern era.
Notes
INTRODUCTION
1 Page references to the text ofEgmontin square brackets throughout my study are to
the manuscript reproduced in chapter 2.
2 Reference is to Goethes Werke, Weimarer Ausgabe, I. Abt., 32. Bd., 31. Besides the
manuscript in chapter 2, this is my standard source for Goethe references.
3 For a recent overview of major theoretical figures and arguments from a German
point of view, see Guido Hifi, Der theatralische Blick.
CHAPTER I
1 Possibly Ernst Carl Christian John (1788-1856), secretary to Goethe 1812-14; more
likely Johann August Friedrich John (1794-1854), his secretary 1814-32 (Biedrzynski
215-16).
2 The Stadt- und Universitatsbibliothek Frankfurt still possesses this manuscript, now
renumbered as Mus. Hs. Texte 42. It is a 22O-page prompt book with emendations,
as well as copies of individual roles, stemming from approximately 1830, and it likely
served as the performance text for one or more of the Frankfurt productions dis-
cussed in chapter 4.
3 New productions of Egmont in Mannheim immediately thereafter occurred in 1929,
1933, 1940, and 1959.
4 Schloenbach's reprint (159-216) carries the footnote "Nach Schillers Bearbeitung in
drei Aufeiigen ... Original-Manuskript aus dem Mannheimer Theater-Archiv" (159).
He gives no positive identification of the manuscript beyond this and makes no
mention of a second Mannheim manuscript, but my spot checks between his reprint
272 Notes to pages 28—9
and the Mannheim manuscript Myji revealed no differences. Schloenbach provides

no explanatory notes or textual comparisons and no reference to any glosses or dele-
tions in the Mannheim manuscript he used.
5 Hofer also published the Weimar manuscript of the wotk (h1) for the first time, with-
out notes or commentary, in Schillers Sdmtliche Werke, xn, 282-367.
6 Furthermore, one has good reason to doubt Schloenbach's precision in the first place.
Friedrich Walter, whose volumes on the Mannheim theatre are models of scholarly
accuracy, names Schloenbach-as one of the few who had access to the Mannheim ar-
chive in the nineteenth century, adding that his work was "so ungenau und fehler-
haft, dafi die Abschriften an Unzuverlassigkeit nichts zu wiinschen iibrig lassen"
(Archivi, 31).
7 We should be reminded that at the time there was in most cases only a Souffleurbiich
or Soufflierbuch, rather than a Regisseurbuch or Regiebuch which later became the
norm (see Walter, Archiv II, I*).
8 In connection with the confusion surrounding the contents of the Weimar manu-
scripts (H3'4), I should mention August Diezmann's Goethe's Egmont fur die Biihne
bectrbeitet (1857) which claimed to present Schiller's "Bearbeitung ... zum ersten-
male im Druck. Sie gait bisher fur verloren, doch ist es mir gelungen sie vollstandig
wiederherzustellen und zwar nach dem Examplare 'Egmonts' in der Bibliothek des
grofiherzoglichen Hoftheaters in Weimar, das Schillers Streichungen, Scene-
neintheilung und Angaben der Aenderungen enthalt, und nach den mir zur Ver-
gleichung iiberlassenen Soufleurbiichern [sic] mehrerer Biihnen, auf denen Egmont
in dieser Schiller'schen Bearbeitung sonst aufgefuhrt wurde oder noch aufgefuhrt
wird" (i). Contrary to his claim, Diezmann did not in fact print Schiller's version
from the Weimar manuscript, but rather an edited "Wiederherstellung," mixed
with versions from "Soufleurbiichern mehrerer Biihnen," in other words a hybrid,
from which we can learn little today. His printing is of an Egmont in five acts with
the concluding vision scene, as in Goethe, rather than three acts without the vision,
as in Schiller, to name just two striking indications that his publication is confused
and misleading.
9 As confirmed by the current director of the Theatersammlung in Mannheim,
Liselotte Homering, this note is in the hand of her predecessor Wilhelm Herrmann,
whose information likely came from Walter's Archiv. We can be quite precise about
when Egmont was performed in Mannheim. Oscar Fambach's Repertorium is com-
plete for the period 1804 to 1839 and lists performances of Schillers version there in
1806,1810,1812,1813,1814,1818,1824,1825,1826,1827,1831 (2), and 1832. Thereafter a
card catalogue in the Reifi-Museum contains an almost complete record of produc-
tions mounted from 1839 to 1959. These list new Egmont productions in the years
1860, 1876, 1897,1906,1909,1914, 1919,1920,1929,1933,1940, and 1959. The 1929
and 1933 productions were the work of the famous director Friedrich Brandenburg.
His well annotated "Regiebuch" is available in the collection. Although some of his
statistics do not match exactly with those of his predecessors, E.L. Stahl shows that
Egmont was one of the most popular works on that stage throughout the nineteenth
and twentieth centuries. He records 46 performances by 1839, the most frequently

performed Goethe play; 48 between 1839 and 1889, second only to Schiller's Rauber\
45 between 1889 and 1929, the most frequently performed Goethe play again and
eighteenth most frequent in the tepettoire. Overall Egmontwas the tenth most fre-
quently performed work in the Mannheim Nationaltheater between 1797 and 1929
(Das Mannheimer Nationaltheater, 399-405).
CHAPTER 2
1 The following marks and annotations are also on the title page (Figure 3): at the top
appears "Premiere 26.12.1806," (added by former director of the Mannheim Theater-
sammlung Wilhelm Herrmann), "M372," the archival catalogue call number, and "3
St. 15 M."
Below this there is a round stamp or seal containing the coat of arms of Baden and
the encircling inscription "Ch<urfurstliches>. Bad<isches>. H<of>. Theater. Mann-
heim." Mannheim became part of Baden in 1802;
an ink mark replacing the word "drey" in the subtitle with "4."; and
a lighter ink addition of the word "drey" below the deleted "drey."
Printed by hand in pencil, below the title and subtitle is "Von J.W. von Goethe."
Below that, diagonally across the middle of the page, in handwriting different
from any above, are the words "nicht gebraucht." These words have also been cov-
ered by a broad crayon stroke, presumably intended as a deletion.
2 Beside this is die faint, partly legible notation, "Menge fest." A similar one appears at
the top of [no]. Beside the characters Egmont, Oranien, Alba, Ferdinand, Richard,
and Clarchen there is in each case the mark "+".
3 "Vivat!" is also deleted.
4 Deleted.
5 The insertion is also deleted.
6 Beside this is a diagram consisting of four dots in a concave arc, marked "Ru Soest
Buyjetter," indicating stage positioning.
7 Here there is a diagram similar to that in the previous note.
8 Deleted.
10 Deleted.
12 This is underlined, as if for rhetorical emphasis. There are twenty-two such underlin-
ings in the manuscript, ten of which appear to have been made by the original scribe,
the rest by at least two later hands. Those of the scribe are included in the transcrip-
tion, the others acknowledged in the footnotes.
13 Deleted.
14 Deleted.
15 Deleted.
16 "und abermal hoch! und abermal hoch!" deleted.
274 Notes to pages 40-7
17 Deleted.
18 "es ... neues," deleted.
19 Here a positioning diagram is added, consisting of four dots with the intials
"RBSJ."
20 Deleted.
21 Here there is a positioning diagram, consisting of four dots and the entries "B R Jet-
ter Soest."
22 This is underlined for emphasis.
24 Deleted.
25 Deleted. In Goethe and Schiller, "Freiheit."
26 Here there is the entry "=VerwantttungIl. A. i. Sc. hier."
27 A prominent "X" appears here. The text from "schwere Handel geben" to the end of
Buyk's next speech is then enclosed in a large bracket on the left side.
28 The previous sentence deleted.
29 "und wie ihr ... und mag." is deleted.
30 This speech is deleted.
34 Here, before itfr Burger, is the entry "Wiirzbach," thereafter, "Renter."
36 2ur.,. zugleich. is deleted.
37 The previous two speeches are deleted.
39 i"'... Burger, is deleted.
41 zugleich i1" Burger, is deleted. "Jetter" is added twice.
42 2Kr... Burger, is deleted.
43 This is deleted from "wir fangen Handel an."
44 Alle Burger, is deleted.
45 This is deleted from [51].
47 This is deleted from [52] "... Etliche von seinem Gefolge."
48 This entry is not in Goethe or Schiller.
49 "Geht auseinander" is deleted.1*
50 The insert ends with a squiggle. Its text is from Goethe but was deleted by Schiller.
In Goethe, the sentence continues, "wenn ihr an Werktagen feiert." It would seem
that this was also intended to be spoken and that Goethe's text was readily at hand to
the users of the manuscript.
51 Egmont. zum Seifensieder... Jetter is deleted.
52 This is deleted from "die Saufer, die Faulenzer."b
53 "Lafit ... Platz" is deleted.
54 This is deleted from the beginning of [59] .b Beside the deletion is "Zusatz."
55 Inserted here are a large "I" and "Verw."
56 Here stands the note "vi=."
57 Here stands the note "=de."
58 This is deleted from [61] "Wenn die Bursche schwimmen."b<i At the end of the dele-
tion is "verwend."
59 Here stands the note "abrl II."
60 "die Feder in der Hand" is deleted.
61 This is deleted from bottom of [63] "Es brennt mir."b
62 "Hauptmann ... vorgefallen" is in parentheses.1"
63 This is deleted from "Richard. Es sind.
64 This is deleted from "Verzeiht, daE ich."
65 "Gewif? ... Vater" is in parentheses.
66 "Beruhige Ihn" is deleted.
67 This is in the Goethe version, but was deleted by Schiller, an indication that the
scribe was consulting both sources.
68 "wie ... kann" is deleted.
69 This is deleted from "nicht Lust, meine."b
70 Hereafter stand "vi=" and "pag. 78."
71 From here the text is deleted to [80] "daher fahren sieht."b On 76 appears "# ...
p: 8o=" indicating a continuation of the lengthy deletion, and the entire text is
struck out until [80] .b See note 73.
72 The insertion ends with a scribble and an apparent question mark. The insertion of a
partial sentence suggests that the writer was referring to a longer well known quota-
tion. This is the original Goethe version, included by Schiller, which continues
"Gipfel eines Hauses spazierte: ist es freundschaftlich, mich beim Namen zu rufen
und mich zu warnen, zu wecken und zu toten?" It can be assumed that the actor was
to speak the entire line. This is another indication in the manuscript that those who
used it consulted both Schiller's and Goethe's versions.
73 Here stands "... p:8o=." See notes 70, 71, 76, and 81.
74 In Goethe and Schiller the word is "sticken".
75 "sind schuld ... sind schuld" is deleted.
76 This is deleted from "Sind uns die kurzen." Thereafter stands "=de."
77 This is added at this point in the right margin, as in both Schiller and Goethe ver-
sions. There it continues, "dafi deine Epistel kein Buch wird, so ist mirs recht,"
which was likely intended to be included here as well. It is not part of a longer dele-
tion which began [79] "Schenke mir diese Betrachtungen" (note 79).
78 At the top of this page, boldly written, but then deleted by a different hand stands
"Egmont."
79 This is deleted from [79] "Schenke mir diese Betrachtungen."
80 This is as in Goethe and Schiller.
81 This is the conclusion of a lengthy deletion from [75] "Richard. Ich bitt' Euch."b
Beside, "=."
82 This is deleted from "Bey meiner Klara." Beside the deletion stands "Z<u>s<a>tz."
This occurs within a longer deletion beginning, "Den Brief an den Grafen" and
ending here.
83 This is deleted from "wich dann mit."
84 This is deleted from "zu leicht."
85 A deletion begins here and continues to the end of [87] .b
86 This is deleted from the bottom of [87] "und wiirde heut mit."1"1
87 This is deleted from "und die Dinge."b
88 This is deleted from [89] "ich trage viele."1*1
89 This is deleted from " Oranien. Sonst."b<i
90 "Egmont. Und" is deleted.
91 Above the following speech stands "bleibt ganz."
92 This is deleted.
93 This is deleted from [94] "Und wohinaus."bd
94 This is in Goethe's original text, but was deleted by Schiller. He also deleted several
further lines at this point which the amender of our manuscript did not include.
95 Entire scene and the next until [99] "zu Boden treten will?" is bracketed in the mar-
gin as well as deleted, with "Zstz" beside it on [95].
96 This is deleted from "Ich erfuhr es."
97 This is deleted from "Was wir lange."
98 "an die Handlung," is deleted.b
99 This is deleted. The subsequent addition was in Goethe's original, but was excluded
by Schiller.
100 Beside this stands "Zugl."
101 Written over this final line is "Zugl."
102 There is a note in the left margin, apparently "Verwchs Sc flge," i.e., "Verwechselte
Szenenfolge."
103 There is a note to the right, "A.4.A.i.Sc."
104 In Goethe and Schiller it is "O unsre Freiheit!"
106 It is interesting to note that this stinging criticism of the nobility was not deleted
from the performance text.
107 This is deleted from the bottom of [121] "Es ist mir nicht."
108 This is deleted from "auch wohl."
109 Here there is a large "I" and "Verw."
no This lengthy stage direction is preceded by a large doubly underlined deletion mark
and bracketed in the left margin, with "Zstz" beside it. The stage direction itself
does not appear in Goethe's version and is typical of Schiller's dramatic, atmo-
spheric additions.
HI Beside "A.A.I." there stand a large "II" and "Verw". The entire text is bracketed in
the margin from here to the middle of [146] "wer recht hat?" In the margin of [135]
stands "bis z<um> Ende d<e>s St... ganz anders."
112 This is deleted from "ich erkenne Euch" at the top of [141].
113 Here stands "vi=", likely indicating a jump to "=de" on [143] (note 115).
114 "was ich unternehme" is deleted.
115 This is deleted from [142] "Brackenburg. Klarchen Ihr wifit." Beside it stands "=de."
116 "Es ist," is deleted.
117 The lengthy marginal parenthesis from [134] "Scene 4." ends here.
118 In Goethe and Schiller it is "die Freiheit."
119 This is deleted from "— Wenn da ein Exerzitium."
120 The parenthesis is closed here. It is unclear where it opens.
121 This is deleted from [146] "War ich doch."M
122 This is deleted from [148] "Sie hat mich verworfen."1*1
123 From "den meinigen" the text is marked in the left margin with a line and notation
"anders."
124 Here stands "a.a.II."
125 Here stands "Lieet.i."
126 The stage direction is deleted. In the absence of the song's text in the manuscript, it
is reasonable to assume that Klarchen's song "Freudvoll / Und leidvoll" from
Goethe's version is intended.
128 The text from "Mutter. Wie wird's" is marked in die margin as if indicating a deletion.
129 "bin ... gut" is deleted.
130 This is deleted from "Mutter. Mache mir.
131 The stage direction is deleted.1"11 again assume it is the text from Goethe's version,
either "Freudvoll / Und leidvoll," or perhaps, because of her previous words, her
song with Brackenburg, "Die Trommel geriihret!"
132 Deleted.
133 This is deleted from "und die Passement=Arbeit!"b
134 Here stands "Einschiebsel Act I."
135 This is deleted from "beobachtet" [173].W
136 Here stands "Actus II," several illegible and one legible word ("Musik") below, and
"bleibt" above. The text is then deleted entirely to the end of Scene n on [181], at
which point the notes "Actus III" and "abzl II" are added before Scene 12.
137 Added above is "Zstz. bis Verwandlg."
139 This is deleted from "Wo sich Oranien."
140 Here there is a large "I" and "Verwend."
141 This is the end of the lengthy deletion from [173].
142 In Schiller this is erroneously designated "Dreizehnter Auftritt," so that his second
act ends with Scene 25, although there are only twenty-four.
143 This is deleted from "Alle tagliche Runden."b
144 This speech is deleted, and the note added, "vide Sc 13." See note 145.
145 Beside this is "=Scena 13."
146 This is deleted from [186] "als wir herkamen," with "=de" at the end.
147 This is deleted from "Ihr Schicksal."bd
148 This is deleted from the bottom of [190] "Den ganzen Tag."w
149 "sie bleiben bey sich;" is deleted.
150 This is deleted from the bottom of [191] "Auf deinen Befehl,"b and the last sentence
of the deletion is underlined for emphasis.
151 This is deleted from "Ich fiirchte, es wird."
151 This is deleted from [202.] "Es riickt die Uhr!"bd
153 This is deleted from "z« Silva Eile!"
154 Here stand the marks "+" and "109"; the latter is also deleted. This likely refers to
[209] where there is a similar "+" before Alba's speech, "Ich laugne es nicht." [206-
7] are incorrectly numbered [106-7], which accounts for the erroneous 109.
155 The insertion, also deleted, is from Goethe's version.
156 Deleted.
157 Beside this speech appears, several times "bl<eibt>," and it is once deleted, but,
oddly, the passage itself is not. Several words are underlined.
158' This is deleted from "etwa einmal drein schlagen."b
159 This is an insertion, from Goethe's version, but then also deleted.
160 This is deleted from "Die Religion."b
161 The entry is faint and only partly legible, but several words are clear enough to indi-
cate that it likely reads as in both Goethe's and Schiller's versions. The entry has also
been deleted.
162 This was entered by the same hand as in the previous note, again from Goethe and
Schiller.
163 This is deleted, to couple the sentence with the insertion.
164 Here there is a mark, as if to indicate an insertion, perhaps the major portion that
was omitted here by the scribe from both Goethe and Schiller versions. See the next
chapter's summary of such major omissions.
165 Here there is a deletion mark beside the stage direction.
166 Here stand in bold marks "I" and "Verw."
167 This is deleted from the bottom of [221] "Es wirckt vielleicht."b
168 Here stand "abrl II," "Verwen," "vi=225" (to connect with "=de" on the next page)
and "Z<u>s<a>tz," the last of which is also deleted. The entire scene is then de-
leted. The scene is also marked in the margin with a bracket which continues into
the next scene to the top of [226] "Von wem spricht sie?"
169 Here stands "=de" to connect with "vi=" on [223].
170 Here stands "Actus 5."
171 A faint line runs down the middle of the page from this point to the end of [227].
172 "von den alten" is deleted.
173 "Jetter" and the inserted "2" are deleted. After the list of characters, the entire scene
is deleted to the end of [230] "Ich spreche von Egmont."
174 Deleted.
175 Deleted.
176 "Jetter" is later deleted.
177 On this page of the manuscript there appear four small circles at various points in
the text. They are entered here below their respective lines as 0. Further instances of
the same mark appear on [234], [236], [244], and [249] as shown. Their significance
is discussed in chapter 3.
178 "Wo ... geschrieben?" is deleted.1"1
179 In Goethe and Schiller "Freyheit" replaces "Befreyung."
180 Several notations and deletions surround this speech in addition to the substitute
texts indicated. "Jetter." and the entire speech as it stands are deleted.1"'
"F<V>ansen" and "Soest" are added as speakers, but then deleted as well. There are
two illegible underlined words beside their names. The speech was obviously prob-
lematic for the director.
181 Deleted.
182 This is deleted from the bottom of [232] "Und wenn ihr seine Pferde."
183 Deleted.
184 This is from Goethe and Schiller.
185 "Soest." is deleted and beside it are the notations "Weim.." and "Alex."
187 "die zwar selber wehrlos ist," is deleted.
188 Deleted. Its replacement, Soest, is, in turn, also deleted. Beside this is a partially leg-
ible notation, Weim<er>, which is also deleted.
189 Here, "Pause." The same insertion appears before Klarchen's speech on the follow-
ing page and may be a director's instruction.
190 This is deleted from "vier, fiinf Kopfe iibereinander."
191 In the margin stand "Act: I," "Zugl" and "Verw. I," the last two of which are also
deleted.
192 Before the name stands "Pause."
193 The lower corner of the manuscript page is torn away.
194 This is deleted from the bottom of [237] "Haltst du mich."b
195 The lower corner of manuscript is torn away.
196 This is deleted from [238] "Die!? sind die Strafien."b
197 There are several notations scrawled above and across these closing stage directions:
"Zugl," "Verw.II," each of which is also deleted; "Actuslfl" stands above the deleted
"zweyten."
198 Beside the page number there is a note: "Egm. I. Gefinst.. s..te..."
199 This is deleted from "Was hort ich denn?"
200 Deleted.
201 This is deleted from [241] "Hier ist der Schlussel."1*1
202 "schleichen, husten" is deleted.13
203 Deleted.
204 "Fxller" is also deleted, an interesting correction which suggests a positive under-
standing of Brackenburg s role.
205 This is deleted from the bottom of [242] "Elender guter Mann."
2,8o Notes to pages 81-5
106 A deletion mark begins here and ends with "sprich mir von ihm" at the bottom of
[244]; also "vi-," but this has no apparent connecting abbreviation on [244].
107 "lafi mich weinen" is deleted.
208 This is deleted from "Gott hat mich."b
209 "dich nicht!" is deleted.
2.10 This speech is deleted.
211 The handwriting differs from here to the end of the page.
212 "scherzend" is deleted.
213 Deleted.
214 There is a deleted illegible entry of approximately eight words below the text at the
bottom of the page. A long deletion also begins with "Im Augen=" and continues to
"uns denn auch" on [25i].b Here also stands the note "vi-," with no apparent con-
nector later.
215 There is an illegible word above the line here.
216 This is deleted from the bottom of [249] "Im Augen=.
217 The insert is in neither Goethe nor Schiller.
218 This is deleted from the bottom of [251] "lebt zusammen, und beweint."b<1
219 This is deleted from the bottom of [252] "Du todtest uns."w
220 Deleted.
221 This is deleted from "Trage gehn."
222 The umlauts are deleted.
223 Beside stand the notes "Zugl," which is also deleted, and "I Verw."
224 The previous sentence is deleted.
225 Hereafter stand these notes: "Musik. Nro: 7," "Zu Ende der Musik beim Ver-
loschen," "Actus" (also deleted), and " Verwandlung." As is the case in the next foot-
note, the designation of the musical piece here can no longer be linked to
Beethoven's score since the "Partitur" manuscript was lost from the Mannheim col-
lection in the war.
226 This is deleted from the bottom of [258] "verwandeltsich die Szene." Scrawled over
the final lines of these stage directions on [258] is "Zugl," and below is added "Hier-
auf Entreact Nro: 6." At the top of [259] appears Actus TV. Scene i, which is also de-
leted with "Verwandlung" beside.
227 This is changed to "i," then back to "4."
228 There are illegible marks here.
229 This is an addition from Goethe's original, deleted by Schiller.
230 "Muth meines Herzens?" is deleted.
231 The insertion is from Goethe, altered by Schiller.
232 The insertion is from Goethe.
233 This is deleted from "Was ist das?"
234 This is deleted from [261] "Unleidlich war mirs schon."
236 Beside this stands "Ver I."
237 The previous two words are deleted.

238 This addition is from Goethe and was left in by Schiller. It would seem that the
manuscript scribe saw fit to supersede both at times, particularly in the case of pro-
vocative lines like this.
239 Below this stands "Ver.. #."
240 This is changed to "2," then back to "5."
241 Deleted. Note that Schiller's version has here "einem Vermummten" instead of two,
while Goethe makes no mention of such characters.
242 The insertion is in neither Goethe nor Schiller, a significant alteration to the tone of
the scene.
243 This was deleted by Schiller from Goethe's version.
244 This is deleted from "{So mag diese freche}." The deletion is in keeping with the
elimination of "die Vermummten" from the manuscript at the beginning of this
scene.
246 The stage direction was added by Schiller.
247 This was changed to "3," then back to "6."
248 This was apparently to be said twice.
249 In Schiller's version a stage direction draws attention to "den Vermummten" again
at this point.
250 This is deleted from "Ihm, dem Ruhmsuchtigen."M
2.51 This was deleted from Goethe's version by Schiller.
252 This is from Goethe and Schiller.
253 The insertion, from Goethe, is also deleted.
254 Here there is a deletion mark, but it is unclear where the deletion begins and ends.
255 This is from Goethe, altered by Schiller.
256 Deleted.
257 This is changed slightly to "lauter Freudenschrei," Goethe's version, deleted by
Schiller.
258 This is deleted from [272] "Schon damals als wir," with "vi=" and "=de" bracketing.
259 "jedes Sieges-Zeichen verachtet ... von ganzem Herzen verehren mochtest" is from
Goethe's version and was deleted by Schiller. At this point Schiller ended Scene 6 and
began Scene 7, whereas the manuscript continues. As a result the following scenes and
die total number of scenes in the third act of Schiller's version do not correspond.
260 The speech is preceded by "# pag 276", presumably linking it with the "=" mark
there. "Bl<eibt>" stands in the margin.
261 The entire speech is deleted, with "=" at the beginning of die next.
262 Deleted.
263 At the top of the page stands "bleibt alles."
264 This is deleted from [277] "Ferdinand. Grausamer Vater!
265 This is deleted from "Dich hatt' ich mir."bd
266 "durch Furcht ... strafen" is deleted.
267 This is deleted from "Du bist des."b

268 This is deleted from "Jetzt ist er."b Above the deletion is a deleted illegible word.
269 This is deleted from "Ich habe unwissend."b
270 The stage direction is deleted.
271 This was deleted from Goethe's version by Schiller.
272 This is deleted from "du nimmst."b
273 Deleted.
276 This is deleted from "feindselige, wohlwollende."b
277 The insertion is also partially delered. There seems to have been considerable uncer-
tainty about the text at this point. The additions and deletions reflect in part both
Goethe's and Schiller's versions, as well as other additions.
278 This is deleted from [289] "Noch Eins, und."
279 This was changed to "4," then back to "7."
280 "Musik vom Orchester" is deleted. This had been added by Schiller. In the margin
beside stands "Musik Melodrama."
281 Deleted.
282 There are faint illegible marks above.
283 Along the left margin stand "siehe letzte Seite" and "Erschngfr..." The reference to
the last page has no obvious connection there, unless the second last page [298] is
intended, where there is a marginal note in the same hand, likely "Anders."
284 This stage direction, added by Schiller, replaces a major stage direction in Goethe's
version which gave details of Egmont's vision of Klarchen at this point.
285 A line runs down the margin beside this entire speech to the bottom of [296]
"anmaafk weg," the only notation being a faint "Anders" at the top of [295].
286 In both Goethe and Schiller this is "Hut der Freiheit." The replacement in the
manuscript seems an oddly mixed metaphor.
287 Here stands a faint closing parenthesis mark without an apparent opening.
288 Here stands a faint opening parenthesis mark without an apparent closing.
289 The marginal bracket from [294] ends here.
290 This is deleted from "Wie munter treten."b
291 In Goethe and Schiller this is "Fur die Freiheit."
293 This was changed to "5," then back to "8." Beside, "Zugl."
294 A faint illegible note stands at the side.
295 Deleted. Above stands "Musik" which is also deleted.
196 " Wohlan ... entgegen" is deleted; it is an apparent addition by the scribe, being in
neither Goethe's nor Schiller's versions.
297 This is from Goethe.
298 Above stands ".nd".
299 Here stands "Musik." In the right margin beside this speech stands a word, appar-
ently "Anders."
CHAPTER 3
1 Eckardt (1754-31) used the pseudonym Koch; Bellomo was in fact Josef Bellonio,
?—1791. My brief summary of events now is necessary to introduce this chapter, but
makes no claim to originality. As that of many others over the past decades, this ac-
count is based on Hans Heinrich Borcherdt's in the Nationalausgabe of Schillers
Werke, xin, 299-360. In turn, Borcherdt relied heavily on Hofer's Egmont edition in
Schillers Sdmtliche Werke (xn, 7-20), Heinrich Diintzer, and others. Good overviews
of these events and commentaries on the genesis of Schiller's adaptation can also be
found in Kilian and Reclam's Erlauterungen undDokumenteto Egmont. Elisabeth
Volker's 1963 thesis on Egmont should be mentioned, though I have not been able to
acquire it. Her self-authored summary in Germanistik 5 (1964), 643-4 concludes,
"daf? Schillers Biihnenbearbeitung und Goethes Redaktion auf dem von Reinhard
Buchwald rekonstruierten Typ der Klassikerbiihne aufgefuhrt worden sind und dafi
sie unter Berucksichtigung der Aufruhmngsbedingungen und -moglichkeiten dieser
Buhne hergestellt wurden. Die Textgeschichte der Biihnenbearbeitungen ist nur
unter Beachtung dieser Tatsache zu verstehen." Buchwald s work is known to me and
has provided insights for my analysis.
2 As reported by Schiller to his wife Charlotte, 20 September 1794 (Graf II, I, 226).
3 Friedrich Walter confirms that M372 was used for performances of Egmont in Mann-
heim 1806-24 (Archivn, 126).
4 n, 12 was missing from Schiller's manuscript.
5 For simplicity's sake I use "Burger" to include Soest, Jetter, Zimmermann, Seifen-
sieder, Buyck, Ruysum, and Vansen at various times.
6 This was also evident to Goethe and others of his age, particularly to Justus Moser
(1720—94), whose essay, "Der jetzige Hang zu allgemeinen Gesetzen und Verordnun-
gen ist der gemeinen Freiheit gefahrlich" (Patriotische Phantasien 1775), influenced
Goethe during the genesis of Egmont.
7 Goethe was uneasy about the attacks on the monarch and absolute despotism, even if
voiced through stage characters. His letter of 28 March 1788 from Rome shows that
Carl August had objected to some parts, and that Goethe was in the habit of re-
sponding with the utmost delicacy, amending his text if he could, yet often arguing
as well for its integrity and necessity. In this context it is of interest to note that Eg-
montvfus banned in Berlin by King Frederick William in (see chapter 4, "Egmont in
Berlin").
8 The Egmont editors of the MA point out a possible connection between the intro-
duction of a masked Alba and Egmont's unmasking of him and historical sources for
Schiller's Geschichte desAbfatts der vereinigten Niederlande. There, a spy hid in the
chimney and reported the last discussion between Egmont and Oranien (831).
9 Thanks to Dennis Mahoney, University of Vermont, for this reference.
10 Graf's summary of die four sources is reliable (n, I, 237-239), but his reference to
Fouque's p. m is incorrect; it is p. 28.1 will have more to say in chapter 8 about the
confusion surrounding Goedie's presence.
11 Seven of the brief notes discussed in B were also deleted by later hands, as indicated
in the footnotes of the previous chapter, but they will not be considered here.
12 See Beethoven's letter of 15 Oct. 1810 to Breitkopf and Hartel (Beethovens Siimtliche
Briefe, i, 337) andAllgemeineMusikalischeZeitungii (30 March 1814), 205-7. Two re-
views of Egmont performances in Kassel also discuss Beethoven's music and its rela-
tionship to the play: Der Freimuthige, oder Berlinische Zeitungfur gebildete,
unbefangene Leser, 48—9 (25—6 March 1822), 192, 196: "Tagesbegebenheiten, Aus Cas-
sel," re performances of 17 and 25 Feb. 1822, Hoftheater; and Abend-Zeitungfy
(9 April 1822), 340: "Correspondenz-Nachrichten, Aus Kassel, Fortsetzung," re per-
formance of 17 Feb. 1822, Hoftheater. Friedrich Walter refers to a manuscript of
Beethoven's "Partitur" in Mannheim: "124 Egmont. Musik zu Goethes Egmont von
Beethoven. Part, in i Bd. Stichworte erst spater zugefugt. Beiliegend Partitur der
Blaserstimmen: Trombone alto, tenore u. basso fur die Ouverture (Archiv u, 170)."
Unfortunately, this manuscript is no longer in the Reifi-Museum collection, having
been lost in the war. See also Martha Calhoun's excellent study (1987) on Beethoven's
score.
13 Friedrich Walter's notes to Mannheim productions refer to this gloss, supporting the
assumption (Archiv u, 127).
14 Included are six examples from the scribe's original which I have just discussed (des-
ignated in the list by <scribe>). I include them here as well since they are important
for the contextual argument.
15 See ms. pp. n, 29 twice, 32, 92,114, 121, 152, 156, 173, 192, 218, 230 twice, 241, 254,
262, 263, 267 twice, 273, 275.
CHAPTER 4
1 I am indebted to the Germanistisches Seminar of Bonn University for allowing me

to photocopy extensively from the archive. To my knowledge, only Sigrid Siedhoff
(1983) has used this archive previously to write on Egmont.
2 "Production" means a new mounting of the play; "performance" normally means a
public presentation of such a production. For most of the productions listed there
was more than one performance.
3 There is no doubt about the popularity of Egmont on the Mannheim stage in the
early nineteenth century if we recall the performance statistics cited in chapter i. It
was clearly Goethe's most popular play there and well into the twentieth century
ranked very highly when compared with all others in the repertoire.
4 Der Freimuthige 95 (13 May 1817), 377-8: "Die Freimiithigen an den Freimuthigen,"
Fortsetzung, Zwolfte Beleuchtung, with reference to the performance of 21 Jan. 1817,
Konigliche Schaubiihne, and review in Abend-Zeitungzj (31 Jan. 1817), "Chronik der
Konigl. Schaubiihne zu Dresden," signed "F," tentatively identified by Fambach as
Karl Forster. Most of the reviews cited in this chapter appeared anonymously, though
some use pseudonyms, others initials, a few real names. I have included references to
authorship but have not sought to complete missing information systematically, for
it is not of importance for my argument. Fambach marked each review with a code
of two or three letters, for example BTK for the above entry. This relates to a key
with the short tides of die journals, newspapers, and other sources from which he
cites, along widi the so-called "Diesch-" or "Traub-" number of journal and newspa-
per titles. Thus, full bibliographical details on each such entry must be found in Carl
Diesch, Bibliographic (1917) or Hans Traub, Standortskatalog(i<)^). Since Diesch did
his work before 1939, his locations of extant copies is both helpful and annoying, for
the damage to libraries during the war rendered some of his references incorrect,
other still of great value — in fact, he includes some locations not recorded even in to-
day's best bibliographical source for journals, the Zeitschriften-Datenbank. In a few
cases, however, the code was not in Fambach's key and I could not determine by
other means the title to which it referred. For the vast majority of quotations in this
chapter I have consulted the original sources. Those I have been unable to check in
the original, and hence cite via Fambach's photocopies or typescripts, are marked *.
5 From the same feisty critic in Dresden, Der Freimuthige, 95 (13 May 1817), 377.*
6 Iris. 224 (u Nov. 1827), 896: "Chronik der Frankfurter Schaubiihne," re performance
of 4 Nov. 1827, Frankfurt Nationaltheater.
7 Originaiien 55-57 (7, 9, 12 May 1827), col. 448: "Hamburgische Theater-Zeitung,
Stadt-Theater," re performance of 3 May 1827, Hamburg Stadttheater.* According to
the German Zentralkatalog and interlibrary loan systems, this year of Originaiien is
no longer available in German libraries.
8 Abend-Zeitungitf (7 June 1820): "Nachrichten aus dem Gebiete der Kiinste und
Wissenschaften, Correspondenz-Nachrichten Hannover, im April 1820," re perfor-
mance of 12 March 1820.
9 Der Freimuthige, 124 (22 June 1820), 496, signed " W-r." re performance at Theater
Breslau. Bejazzo or Bajazzo is a commedia dell' arte comic figure, a jester or jokester
(from the Italian "baia - joke or jest"). Holtei was also a successful playwright, mak-
ing a reputation in the Singspiel and using his influence to further die acting career
of his thinly talented wife Luise (1800-25).
10 RheinischeFlora, Beilage zu 75 (12 May 1825): "Theater-Chronik der Stadt Koln," re
performance on 2 May 1825.
11 Didiskalia 133 (13 May 1825) re performance on April 17,1825, Hof- und Nationalthe-
ater. The same E. Thiirnagel was active as an author of practical guides for actors
such as his Systematische Ankitung zur Deklamation (1826) and Theorie der Schau-
spielkumt (1836). Fambach suggests that the author of the review is Christian Bork.
That there were problems with casting in Mannheim is a sure sign that it was much
the same everywhere at die time, for Mannheim had been a leader in appropriate
casting and firm control over all dimensions of production and performance. The
documents reprinted by Pichler (Chronik, Anhang) attest to the careful selection and
control of actors under Dalberg's direction there, but a decade after his departure
(1803) the standards had obviously become eroded.
12 On performance of 31 July 1817 in the Hoftheater. From Karoline Bauer's (1808-77)
reflections, quoted from the Sammlung Oscar Fambach, ref. Baw I, 64.
13 Originalien 122 (10 October 1825), 9. Jg., col. 979: "Correspondenz-Nachricht, Bres-
lau," 31 August 1825, re performance on 28 August 1825 (Goethe's birthday), Theater
Breslau.
14 Didiskalia 213 (i Aug. 1830): "Frankfurter Volksbiihne," re performance on 24 July
1830, Nationaltheater.
15 Theater-Zeitungfiir Deutschlandio (7 March 1789), 77, re performance of 9 Jan.
1789, Nationaltheater Mainz. Wilhelm Pfeiffer-Belli's Die Dramen Goethes aufdem
Theater seiner Vaterstadt 1775—1832, which offers the most comprehensive discussion
of Goethe performances in Frankfurt for the period indicated (and Egmont specifi-
cally, p. 79-105), also includes an extensive account of the Mainz premiere, since the
same production played soon after in Frankfurt. I shall refer to his study from time
to time in connection with both cities. The "Nachdruck" referred to in the quota-
tion was, according to Pfeiffer-Belli, likely that which appeared in Mainz (Sartorius
&C Co.) in 1788, presumably based on the Cotta edition just published (Die Dramen
Goethes, 161, fn. 256).
16 Dramaturgische Blatter 2. Jg., i. Quartal, 8. St. (21 May 1789), 123-27, on the perfor-
mance of 9 Jan. 1789, Nationaltheater Mainz. The original orthography in this quo-
tation and others in this chapter has been maintained. Pfeiffer-Belli identifies the
reviewer as "Schreiber" (80), possibly Alois Wilhelm Schreiber (1763-1841).
17 Didiskalia 240 (28 Aug. 1827), Wiesbader Theater, performance of 2 August 1827.
The same happened in Munich where a reviewer wrote: "Bey Egmonts Traum im
5ten Acte war - man weiss nicht recht, warum? - die dazu gehorige allegorische Vor-
stellungweggâssen." Allgemeine musikalisckeZeitung 14:40 (30 Sept. 1812), col. 656:
"Nachrichten, Miinchen, im September," on performance of 13 Aug. 1812, Hof- und
Nationaltheater.
18 Didiskalia 276 (2 October 1828), on performance of 14 September 1828, Mainzer
Theater.
19 Kronos., March 1801, p. 245, review signed "S."
20 Zeitung fur die elegante Welt 72 (16 June 1801), col. 581, Berliner Nationaltheater, re-
view signed "A."*
21 Eunomiai (March 1801), 262, "Theater."
22 Goethe s praise of her Klarchen in his poem of Dec. 10, 1812 had a broader aesthetic
basis (WA I, 4, 242). He also voiced approval of a poem praising WolfFby La Motte
Fouque after the latter saw her in the role in 1813 (cited by Graf n, i, 260).
23 Letter from Zelter to Goethe, 17 May 1811 (Briefwechsel Goethe-Zelter, i [1913], 297-8)
(not in Goethes Briefe).
24 Zeitungflir die elegante Weltio1) (2 June 1817), col. 854: "Korrespondenz und Notizen,
Aus Berlin, den 24. Mai," signature "Milliner" suggested by Fambach.
25 Berlinische Nachrichten 127 (23 Oct. 1819), re performance of 20 Oct. 1819, review
signed "X."*
26 Berlinische Nachrichten 130 (30 Oct. 1819), "Theater," re performance of 25 Oct. 1819,
Opernhaus.*
27 Zeitung fur die elegante Welt 2^ (27 Nov. 1819), col. 1871: "Korrespondenz und Noti-
zen, Aus Berlin, den 8. Nov.," review signed "K."
28 Fambach's code: Dod 2, S. 73/5. Letter of 27 Oct. 1819.*
29 Mannheim performance statistics in this paragraph come from Oscar Fambach, Das
Repertorium des Hof- undNationaltheaters Mannheim 1804—32 (1980).
30 Fambach: MTC, BF, 27 March 1824, "Nachrichten iiber Kunst, Leben und Wissen-
schaft. Chronik der Grofih. Schaubiihne zu Mannheim," [8.4], re performance of 21
March 1824, signed "Erlach."* The signature MTC does not appear in Fambach's
key. The same must have been the case in Darmstadt where the Hoftheater played
Egmontas a "Trauerspiel in 3 Akten, von Gothe, Musik von van Beethoven" in 1822.
Fambach: MTC Beilage 45, 25 Dec. 1822: "Korrespondenz-Nachrichten, Darmstadt,
26. Nov. 1822," re performance of 22 Nov. 1822.* The signature MTC does not ap-
pear in Fambach's key. Typescript.
31 Fambach: MTAP No. 19, 8 May 1826, p. 150—2, Allgemeine Theater-Zeitung, re per-
formance of 27 April 1826, Hof= und National theater.* MTAP does not appear in
Fambach's key.
32 Didiskalia 141 (20 May 1824), re performance of 21 March 1824, Nationaltheater.
33 Fambach: MTAP 53, 4 May 1825: "Uebersicht der Vbrstellungen auf der Mannhe-
imer Schaubiihne," re performance of 17 April 1825, signed "C," suggested by Fam-
bach to be Carl Courtin.* MTAP does not appear in Fambach's key.
34 Didiskalia 133 (13 May 1825), "Mannheimer Hof- und National-Theater, Fortsetzung,"
re performance of 17 April 1825, author suggested by Fambach to be Christian Bork.
35 Berliner Schnellpost 51 (27 March 1828), p. 204: "Remise fur Theater und Novellistik,
Auswartiges, Poststation Leipzig, den 29. Februar 1828, Der Leipziger Bemerker," re
performance of 16 Feb. 1828, Stadttheater.
36 Der Gesellschafter, Beilage zum jisten Blatte ([29 March] 1824), 256: "Zeitung der Er-
eignisse und Ansichten, Breslau," re performance of I March 1824, signed Karl Bar-
barina, which Fambach suggests is a pseudonym for Friedrich Barth (1794-1833).
37 Abend-Zeitung^tf (23 Oct. 1826), 1012, re performance of 4 Aug. 1826, signed
"A. Wendt." Winfried Klara has written the most detailed study of theatrical cos-
tume at the time and will be referred to in subsequent chapters.
38 Didiskalia 133 (13 May 1825), Mannheimer Hof- und Nationaltheater, on perfor-
mance of 17 April 1825.
39 According to Franz Hadamowsky's usually reliable Die Wiener Hoftheater, Egmont
was performed there six times in 1810, but then not again until 1870. A Fambach re-
view of 1812 shows that it was also played in 1812: Thalia ein Abendblatt, Beilage zum
48. St. (13 June 1812), 199-100; Tagebuch der Wiener Buhnen, Den 4. Juny, "Im Burg-
Theater," performance of 4 June 1812.
40 Thalia, ibid., 199.
41 Zeitungfilr die elegante Welt 179 (13 Sept. 1817), col. 1446: "Korrespondenz und
Notizen, Aus Stuttgart," re performance of 2 June 1817, Hoftheater, signed
"X.v.Y."
42 Zeitung Jur die elegante Welt 236 (i Dec. 1818), col. 1907: "Korrespondenz und Noti-
zen, Aus Stuttgart, im Novbr.," re performance of 16 Oct. 1818, Hoftheater.
43 Zeitungfur die elegante Welt 179 (13 Sept. 1817), col. 1446-7: "Korrespondenz und
Notizen, Aus Stuttgart," re performance of 2 June 1817, Hoftheater, signed "X.v.Y."
44 It had risen to such status not just in Hamburg but in many centres. Some contem-
porary critics believed it was Goethe's greatest drama. References to it, such as
Goethe's "vorziiglichstes dramatisches Werk" or even "das vorziiglichste Trauerspiel,
welches unsere deutsche Literatur besitzt," were not infrequent (quotations from,
Didiskalia 248 [4 Sept. 1828]; and an undated review of a Frankfurt performance of 2
July 1831 by "W" in a journal edited by J.L. Heller [Didiskalia].
45 Morgenblattfurgebildete Stdnde94 (20 April 1815), 376: "Tubingen, Korrespondenz-
Nachrichten, Hamburg, 3. April 1815."
46 Published in fact in 1788, the picture is reproduced and discussed in chapter 6
(Figure 4).
47 Originalien 95-96, 2. Jg. ([10,12 Aug.] 1818), col. 792: "Hamburgische Theaterzei-
tung, Stadttheater."
48 Allgemeine Zeitung, Eeilagel6^ (30 Sept. 1819), 646: "Gothes siebenzigster Geburt-
srag, Beschlufi."
49 Der Gesellschafter, Beilage zum wyten Blatte (1824), 532: "Zeitung der Ereignisse und
Ansichten," signed "s."
50 Originalien 55-57 ([7, 9,12 May] 1827), col. 439-40, 455-6: "Hamburgische Thea-
ter-Zeitung," re performance of 3 May 1827, Stadt-Theater, signed "g."
51 Didiskalia 335 (i Dec. 1825), re performance of 20 Nov. 1825, Frankfurter National-
biihne.* Similarly, Iris 238 (30 Nov. 1825), 951: "Chronik der Frankfurter National-
Biihne."
52 Iris 238 (30 Nov. 1825), 951-2: "Chronik der Frankfurter National-Buhne," re perfor-
mance of 20 Nov. 1825.
53 Pfeiffer-Belli's reference to Schiller here stems from his claim that the text base for
the 1825 production was a prompt book, probably copied from a manuscript bor-
rowed from the Hof- und Nationaltheater in Mannheim (Die Dramen Goethes, 86).
This, I would add, is presumably the one reproduced in chapter 2. The prompt book
Pfeiffer-Belli speaks of may well be that designated h5 by Borcherdt in the Schiller-
Nationalausgabe, as listed in chapter i; today it is in the collection of the Frankfurt
Stadt- und Universitatsbibliothek, call number Mus. Hs. Texte 42.
54 Didiskalia 104 (14 April 1827), re performance of 7 April 1827.
55 Didiskalia 108 (18 April 1830), re performance of 6 April 1830.
56 Zeitbilder <)<) (9 April 1830), signed "W," likely indicating the organs editor Wilhelm
Wagner.
57 Iris 18 (29 April 1821), 75-6, re performance of 23 April 1821.
58 Didiskalia 258 (14 Sept. 1828).
59 Didiskalia 108 (18 April 1830).
60 Didiskalia 335 (i Dec. 1825), re performance of 20 Nov. 1825. "Die sieben Madchen in
Uniform" was a popular contemporary Singspiel by Louis Angely (1787-1835). Les-
sing's statement (Hamburgische Dramaturgic 101-4, Werkei\, 697) caused him to try
to write such a "Schauspielkunst" himself, but he never finished it (for a summary,
see John 224-9); others took up the challenge and produced a raft of them by 1825.
These will be discussed in chapter 7.
61 Iris 185 (14 Sept. 1828), 738, on performance of 5 Sept. 1828, Frankfurter Schaubuhne.
62 M?33 (12 Aug. 1821), 140: "Chronik der Frankfurter Nationalbiihne," re performance
of 8 August 1821.*
63 MTC Beilage 45 (25 Dec. 1822): "Korrespondenz-Nachrichten, Darmstadt, 26. Nov.
1822," on performance of 22 Nov. 1822, Hoftheater, signed "G.G.G."* The signature
MTC does not appear in Fambach's key. Typescript.
64 Der Freimiithige 95 (13 May 1817), 378: "Die Freimiithigen an den Freimiithigen,
Fortsetzung, Zwolfte Beleuchtung."
65 [Karl] Bottiger, Entwickelung des Ifflandschen Spiels in vierzehn Darstetiungen aufdem
Weimarischen Hoftheater im Aprillmonath [sic] 1796. Leipzig: Goschen, 1796. Abend-
Zeitungi^ (22 June 1821): "Correspondenz-Nachrichten, Aus Frankfurt a. M.," re
performance of 23 April 1821.
66 Among the more extensive are those in Didiskalia 327-335 (23 Nov.-i Dec. 1825); Iris
236-38 (27, 29, 30 Nov. 1825), 943-4, 947-8, 951-2: "Chronik der Frankfurter Na-
tional-Biihne," re performance of 20 Nov. 1825; Didiskalia 104/105 (14/15 April 1827),
re performance of 7 April 1827; Iris 224 (n Nov. 1827), 894-6: "Chronik der Frank-
furter Schaubuhne," re performance of 4 Nov. 1827; Didiskalia 90 (30 March 1828),
re performance of 22 March 1828; and ZeitbMer 106-7 (!<>>17.18 April 1830) on
Egmont in general.
67 Iris 236-38 (27, 29, 30 Nov. 1825), 943-4, 947-8, 951-2: "Chronik der Frankfurter
National-Biihne," re performance of 20 Nov. 1825.
68 Iris 185 (14 Sept. 1828), 738-9: "Chronik der Frankfurter Schaubuhne," re perfor-
mance of 5 Sept. 1828.
69 Respectively, Didiskalia 316 (12 Nov. 1827), re performance of 4 Nov. 1827; Didiskalia
258 (14 Sept. 1828), re performance of 5 September 1828; Zeitbilder^ (3 Feb. 1830).
70 Didiskalia 243 (31 Aug. 1831), re performance of 27 Aug. 1831, signed "W."
71 Zeitbilder 208 (27 July 1830), re performance of 24 July 1830, signed "W." [Wilhelm
Wagner].
72 Fambach: ABK 47 [21 March 1832], col. 373-5: "Aus Braunschweig, Hoftheater
Braunschweig."* ABK does not appear in Fambach's key. Typescript.
73 Fambach: ABK 48 [22 March 1832], col. 381: "Aus Braunschweig," signed J.G.
Horneyer.* ABK does not appear in Fambach's key. Typescript.
CHAPTER 5
i Although various images discussed in this section have been treated by many schol-
ars, an intensive study of the entire spectrum of literary images in Egmont is un-
known to me. Still, I would mention R.D. Miller's Egmont chapter (1966) which
contains an unusually broad treatment of the subject, even beyond the notion of
purely literary images, and reinforced in my mind the relevance of some of the mate-
rial I discuss. His comments on looking, mirroring, windows (31-4) and the horse
(44-7) were particularly striking.
2 The manuscript includes here a blocking diagram, indicating the care with which his
listeners were arranged for this speech.
3 Originalien 95-6 [10,12 Aug.] 1818, 2. Jg.), col. 799-800: "Hamburgische Thea-
terzeitung. Stadttheater," on performance of 5 Aug. 1818. According to the German
Zentralkatalog and inter-library loan systems, this year of Originalien is no longer
available in German libraries. I quote from the Sammlung Oscar Fambach.
4 Iris 185 (14 Sept. 1828), 737-8: "Chronik der Frankfurter Schaubiihne" on perfor-
mance of 5 Sept. 1828.
5 Miller/Reinhardt refer at this point to the similar image in Gate when Gotz says
"meine Wurzeln sind abgehauen, meine Kraft sinkt nach dem Grabe" (MA in, I,
880), but while the image of the tree and roots is similar, I would argue that its appli-
cation is entirely different in Egmont, and in a most important way. Gotz loses con-
tact with his roots, whereas Egmont is destroyed from above, not below.
6 Numerous critics have drawn attention to this classical reference, often noting that
the image was so important to Goethe that he chose it to conclude his Dichtung und
Wihrf>eitaswe\l (WA I, 29,192). Among the best on the horse image are Use Graham
(87-91) and Edward M. Batley's definitive article (1989). The latter links it to
Goethe's Italian experience and traces impulses of equine imagery through classical
literature and the concept of the daemon. L.A. Willoughby had made a similarly
broad study (1946), but specific reference to Egmontis limited to a few pages (58-61).
Miller/Reinhardt provide examples in literature of the motif of the horse which
senses the fate of its rider and carries him to his doom (MA in, i, 877).
7 The physical depiction of this important image has always been problematic since di-
rectors and actors share a phobia about putting animals (and children) on stage. Eu-
gen Kilian warned against it (116-17), but we shall see some exciting appearances of
horses in the productions of chapter 9. Goethe was just as averse to animals sharing
the spotlight with actors. It is well known that, ironically, this fear culminated in the
last year of his tenure as director of the Weimar stage (1817), when in his temporary
absence, and against his explicit instructions, a poodle appeared in Der Hund von
Aubri. Outraged, he resigned, only to have the resignation accepted by the Duke.
Curiously, when I tried to consult the playbill of this performance in the Anna Ama-
lia Library, Weimar (July 1992), I discovered - to the libarians' subsequent surprise -
that it had been cut out. A photocopied substitute has since been inserted.
8 My assessment of Klarchens character is based on the text and a wealth of scholarly
criticism, in which several interpretations have been suggested. Marie Luise
Kaschnitz (1954) understood Klarchen from a distincdy feminine point of view in
her tender and sensitive interpretation of the relationship between the two lovers, ar-
guing in favour of Klarchens transition to a politically motivated woman and repre-
sentative of the concept of human freedom in the end. Robert T. Ittner's analysis of
Klarchen (1963) and his scepticism of arguments which idealize her and make her
into a heroine have some merit (esp. 252—5). This stands in stark contrast to Marie-
Luise Waldeck's study a year later. Through clear textual analysis and the comparison
of parallel speeches and actions, she tries to show that Klarchen and Egmont comple-
ment each other throughout the drama, a symbiosis culminating in the vision and a
metaphysical freedom anticipated by both (78-84). Klarchen's movement through
three stages, "love, heroism and transfiguration" (88), is vital for the dramatic flow
and our understanding of the work. She is indispensable for our understanding Eg-
mont and for his function as a place of refuge and source of life (90). Klarchens role,
in conjunction with her mother's, has been analysed more recently from a feminist
perspective by Martha Kaarsberg Wallach (Kraft 68-9).
9 For a concise account of the historical background of the history and significance of
the Golden Fleece, see MA in, i, 867.
10 Kurt Eissler interprets Egmont s sudden flash of Spanish attire as "the realization of
an exhibitionistic fantasy," which seems an extravagant - if titillating - claim (i, 605,
fn. 3), yet more than one modern production has made good use of a similar subtext
in depicting the scene (see Schauspielhaus, Frankfurt in chapter 9). Vblkmar Braun-
behrens' inventive analysis of the scene focusses on Egmont s initial appearance snug-
gled deeply in his cloak like a "Wochenkind," the first sign of a childlike state which
he never really escapes (27ff).
11 In his Egmont edition, Max von Briick provides a chilling account of the historical
event (127 and 142).
12 My search included the following institutions, none of which could locate the spe-
cific woodcut Klarchen describes: the University of Waterloo Library, the Art Gallery
of Ontario, the Royal Ontario Museum, the National Gallery of Canada, the British
Museum Department of Prints and Drawings, the Koninklijk Museum voor Schone
Kunsten Antwerp, the Musees Royaux des Beaux-Arts de Belgique and the Rijksmu-
seum Amsterdam.
13 Miller/Reinhardt (agreeing with Wolfgang Kayser) suggest that at this point
"Clarchen gleichsam gegen die 'reale' Nacht (mit dem Blutgeriist) eine visionare, von
ihrer Innerlichkeit getonte Vorstellung setzen kann, die zu einer subtilen seelischen
Kommunikation mit dem Geliebten iiberleitet" (MA in, i, 881). This strikes me as
overstated; she is simply withdrawing into madness.
14 Actually "Hut der Freiheit" in both Goethe and Schiller, the replacement being the
work of the Mannheim scribe.
15 These essentials for Schiller included Goethe's references to sleep, music, the
approaching soldiers, and Egmont's gesture to his head (WA I, 8, 303-4).
16 In Goethe and Schiller, "sticken," which invokes the concrete image much more
strikingly. What was likely a slip by the Mannheim scribe detracts from the intensity
of the image.
17 Like Kilian, Hartmut Reinhardt discusses the Italian connection, arguing for the im-
portance of including the vision in performance (1980:123 and passim). Some critics
suggest that all of the Klarchen scenes were essentially the product of Goethe's Italian
experience, as some hints in his correspondence of the time show (MA in, i, 820).
CHAPTER 6
1 Marvin Carlson gives an insightful account of the negotiations and visit from profes-
sional and personal points of view (Goethe 88-90).
2 The other plays (and roles) were Iffland's Schein-Verdienst (Rechtler), Dienstpflicht
(Dalner), Der Spieler (von Posert), Die Hagestohen (Reinhold), Die Aussteuer (Wall-
mann), and Der Herbsttag(Wanner); Schiller's Die Rauber (Franz Moor), Gemmin-
gen's Der deutsche Hausvater (Graf Woldemar), Babo's Die Streiitzen (Czar Peter),
Dalberg's Die eheliche Probe (Treumund), Kotzebues Die Sonnenjungfrau (Ober-
priester), and Schroder's Stille Wasser sind tief. Carlson writes that Iffland played
twelve roles, yet lists thirteen plays and records Schein-Verdienst as Verdienst, also
translating it incorrectly as Profit (89). These tiny errors detract little from his contri-
bution. Kroll maintains that Iffland played "14 verschiedene Rollen" (Gesangund
Rede, 131). In fact Iffland played thirteen roles during the 1796 Weimar run, one in
each play, over fourteen performances, twice playing Lieutenant Wollen in Stille
Wasser sind tief. Interspersed during the same period from March 28 to April 25 were
the operas Das Sonntagskindby Miiller, Hieronymus Knicker\>j Dittersdorf, and
Mozart's Don Juan (Bottiger and Burkhardt 21). Some confusion has also resulted
from Bottiger's incorrect numbering of his chapter 7 as 8.
3 See also the contemporary Eduard Genast's (1797—1866) account of Goethe's excite-
ment at the prospect of Iffland's visit, the lengthy rehearsal, and the performance (i,
97, also accessible in Graf, n, I, 226-8). Graf further provides a list of other cast mem-
bers for this performance and for later ones in Weimar from 1806 to 1819 (229, 234).
4 Eduard Genast, who played the role of Zimmermeister, wrote of the rehearsal:
"Goethe las den Egmont, und abgesehen davon, dass sein Vortrag etwas zu markirt
war, habe ich nie den Egmont so darstellen sehen, wie er ihn las; Iffland stand weit
hinter der Auffassung Goethes zuriick. Noch am nachsten verkorperte in spaterer
Zeit Oels Goethe's Intention" (i, 96-7, also in Graf, n, i, 227).
5 Not only was Kilian sceptical about Iffland's accomplishment as described by Botti-
ger, but he also suggests that in his own day the pantomime should not even be at-
tempted, since the audience would have no idea what was happening (206). One has
to wonder if he was underestimating both the actors and public of his rime.
6 I found no mention of this picture in any of the critical literature on Egmont and
came across it reproduced in the program of the 1979 Weimar production (discussed
in chapter 9), whose source is Angelika Kauffmann und Ihre Zeitgenossen (234).
7 I have found no contemporary critical commentary on the effect of Beschort s per-
formance as Egmont, but reviews were generally mixed, which is hardly unusual. We
recall Friederike Unzelmann's letter of April 1801 to Goethe which criticized his per-
formance (Briefe an Goethe 337, #1221), but since she herself acted Klarchen, the as-
sessment is hardly objective. A contrary view was held by a critic who wrote in
Eunomia: "Bei der Darstellung selbst zeichnete sich Herr Iffland als Oranien, und
Madame Unzelmann als Klarchen vorziiglich aus. Herr Herdt als Alba und Herr Be-
schort als Egmont gefielen gleichfalls sehr" (i, 265, March 1801: "Theater").
8 Abend-Zfitungiq) (22 June 1821): "Correspondenz-Nachrichten, Aus Frankfurt a.

M.," re. performance of 23 April 1821.
9 The originals are now located in a number of galleries and archives. I was able to in-
spect those held by the Goethe-Museum, Weimar through the kindness of Dr. Ulrike
Miiller-Harang. The Hark collection entitled Ifflands Schauspielkumt is a loose-leaf
folio folder of 4 + 42 pages, with an introduction and 238 drawings of actors in roles
and scenes.
10 For example, Christina Kroll's Gesang und Rede, a catalogue of the 1973/74 Goethe
theatre exhibit, contains a number (p. 32, 52, 67,128,136). Winfried Klara's Schau-
spielkostum (Appendix) also offers an interesting group.
11 It even graces the cover of the Reclam edition. Goethe referred to Kauffmann's draw-
ing in the Italienische Reise, Rome, 3 November 1787 (WAi, 32,137). As was common
at the time, the figure reproduced here is only one of the contemporary variants, the
very nature of the art form encouraging reproduction. Kauffmann's original pencil
and chalk drawing of the scene remained in Goethe's possession.
ii The scene of Klarchen at Egmont's knee was, according to a letter of Caroline to Jo-
hann Gottfried Herder, the "Mittelpunkt" of the play. She is citing a conversation
she had with Karl Phillip who said the "Mittelpunkt" is to be found not at the end
but obviously in the middle: "so wie alle Radien vom Mittelpunkt ausgehen, und
sich in den Anfang und Ende verlieren. So ist in Egmont der Mittelpunkt die Szene,
da Clarchen vor Egmont kniet ... Hier sei der hochste Punkt des Stiicks" (MA III, i,
849-50).
13 This is a doubly meaningful example, since the play itself is about the process of so-
cial integration which overcomes fixed images and roles.
CHAPTER 7
1 I have paraphrased this brief summary from Marvin Carlson, "Invisible Presences"
(no) and in the subsequent discussion rely on the work of Michael Quinn, "Celeb-
rity and the Semiotics of Acting."
2 In the previous chapter I noted the apparent theft of his last playbill from die collec-
tion of the Anna Amalia Library in Weimar. From this it would seem that voyeuristic
interest in the celebrities of that stage is obviously still alive. This can also be seen in
the recent full-page article, "Mit Goethe auf der Biihne," by Doris Maurer, which
describes Goethe's leading ladies in their acting as well as their amorous pursuits (Die
Zeit$4 [17 Aug. 1993], 20 "Zeila'ufte"). A more scholarly, but no less entertaining, ac-
count of Jagemann and Goethe can be found in Carlson (Goethe95—6 and passim).
3 The undercurrents of Goethe's relationship with Frau von Stein have been captured
superbly for modern readers by Peter Hacks's Gesprdch im Hause Stein.
4 In formulating my account, I have found the work of these scholars useful (listed
chronologically): Martersteig (Wolff), Stein, Tornius (Dramaturg), Eberwein, Satori-
Neumann; Schifferdecker, Scharrer-Santen, Bohme, Ziegler, Morschel-Wetzke,
Sichardt, Hinck and Hahn (Goetheentry by Gorne on Goethe as director). Beyond
294 Notes to page 193
these I have found useful the following general treatments of the development of the
Weimar theatre under Goethe: Schmidt, Genast, Pasqu£, Hofther, Devrient (274-
326), Das Goethe-Jahr in Weimar, Kindermann (Theatergeschichte 552-730), Flem-
ming, Knudsen, Carlson (Goethe) and Borchmeyer (Weimarer Klassify. For more bib-
liography readers can turn to Carlson and Borchmeyer.
5 The reference is found in his Tag- und Jahreshefte of 1803 where Goethe refers to the
genesis of the "Regeln" (WA I, 35,148). The "Regeln" appear in the WA I, 40,139-
68. Ekhof used the term "Grammatik der Schauspielkunst" in his account of the reg-
ular dramaturgical discussions held by Johann Friedrich Schonemann's troupe in the
mid-eighteenth century (Kindermann, Conrad Ekhof, 21). Lessing's plan to write a
definitive "Schauspielkunst" remained a fragment, but his desire for this to happen
was fulfilled by Engel's Ideen zu einerMimikm. 1785. Important for Lessing's concept
of acting was Francesco Riccoboni's L'art du theatre, which Lessing translated as Die
Schauspielkunst in 1750. Lessing's twenty-page fragment is printed in the Gopfert/
Hanser edition of his Werke, IV (i973),723~33.
6 Engel's Ideen zu einer Mimik was the prime actors' guide of its age, and it remained
authoritative for decades. It was reprinted many times and translated into several lan-
guages. It includes graphic illustrations which underscore the visual dimension of his
concept of acting, so that leafing through the two volumes gives a ready overview of
the wealth of illustrated poses for actors to use as models. Barnett is a splendid mod-
ern source for pictures of this type, with many precise drawings of body positions
and mimic expressions that were standard in eighteenth-century acting. Barnett also
pays attention to the placement and grouping of actors on stage.
In his Berlin dissertation (1969), "Einsiedels Theorie der Schauspielkunst. Zur
kunsttheoretischen Grundlegung der Schauspielkunst im 18. Jahrhundert," Hans-
Werner Conrad claims that Einsiedel was the first German to present a unified acting
system, a claim which I find exaggerated in light of contributions by Engel and oth-
ers. Dene Barnett, who has in recent years done more than any other scholar I know
to investigate European acting technique in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries,
lists more than twenty acting guides known in Germany and published between
Franciscus (Franz) Lang s Dissertatio de actione scenica (Abhandlung uber die Scbau-
spielkunsi) of 1727 and Thiirnagels Theorie der Schauspielkunst of 1836; a dozen more
could easily be added. Barnett's extensive bibliography can be found in his series of
articles on "The Performance and Practice of Acting" in Theatre Research Interna-
tional(1977 and 1981) and his major study The Art of Gesture (1987). I have come
across the following additional guides not listed by Barnett (here in chronological or-
der; those marked * I have not located): Loewen, Kurzgefasste Grundsatze (1775);
Mercier, Neuer Versuch (1776); Wagner, Neuer Versuch (1776); Theoretische Gruff en
(1776-79)*; Von der Schauspielkunst (Wien, 1780); Gley, Menschendarstellung*
(J794); Quandt, Versuch (1803); and Iffland, Theorie (1811-15). Iffland himself was
not just an outstanding actor, but also a major contributor to the theory of acting.
He began writing on the subject as early as 1781 in the Rheinische Beitrage and contin-
ued with articles in his Almanack fur Theaterfreunde from 1807. The first issue began
with a series of twelve plates depicting well known actors (including himself in his
best known parts), linking the scenes with dialogue from those scenes (see the discus-
sion in chapter 6), and accompanying each scene with a detailed commentary.
Iffland's most important theoretical writings were collected and republished posthu-
mously as a Theorie der Schauspielkunst (1815) by his close associate Christian, also
Johann] Gottfr[ied] Flit[t]ner (1770-1828).
Simon Williams provides a useful overview of developments in acting technique
in German Actorsand my own chapter on "Acting: Talent and Rules" in The German
Nachspiel (214-34) attempts a concise survey of the subject. Finally, Wolfgang
Bender's recent Die Schauspielkunst (1992) is a valuable collection of essays on this
theme by excellent scholars. His own lead article provides a solid introductory over-
view of theory from Ekhof to Goethe, and the contributions by Wilfried Passow,
Rudolf Miinz, and Dieter Borchmeyer are integrated into my argument.
In searching for clues about Goethe's study of acting history and technique, I took
into account the works in his personal library, now housed in the Goethe-Museum
in Weimar, searching for notations or underlinings. I discovered no such markings. It
seems that Goethe did not make notes in his own books, despite his fetish for record-
ing in written form almost everything else about his life and work.
7 Marvin Carlson provides a useful English translation of the "Regeln" as an appendix
to his Goethe, and Dieter Borchmeyer gives a succinct critical analysis of their signifi-
cance in Goethe's movement from a naturalistic to an idealistic style (Bender 273-7).
8 The term "natural acting" is often used, but imprecisely or without consistent mean-
ing both then and now. I understand it to mean an actor who, while perhaps aware of
and skilled in controlled technique, still conveys an overall realism in his performance,
what Iffland called in his theoretical writings the "Seelenzustand" of a stage character
(Flitner 77). Obviously there might be some debate about how "naturalistic" an actor
should become. It is amusing to read Jiirgen Kilian's attack on what he sees as natural-
istic excess, associadng it repeatedly with the "Springmethode" (uncontrolled out-
bursts) and with extravagant "Unart" and "Orgien" (70-1,128). The influence of
expressionistic acting in the early twentieth century seems to have unleashed a panic
among traditionalists, such as Kilian, whose taste was solidly for what they considered
classical style, which was closely allied with the declamatory tradition.
9 Devrient provides one of the oldest, yet still finest, summaries. Jutta Lindner's recent
Asthetische Erziebung (1990) takes account of earlier attempts and includes extensive
references and useful appended reprints of some of the key documents of Goethe's
theatre direction.
10 Already in 1727 Lang had used the concept "Staffage" (in the German translation) in
his Dissertatio (329-30) to refer to baroque theatre. Acting was essentially a pictorial
event. Like many later guides, Lang's work had a number of pictures (unfortunately
excluded from the German version), which demonstrate that the visual image on
stage was central to his discussion of acting. The last third of his book is a catalogue
of "Symbolische Bilder" (252-309), also strongly suggestive of Goethe's vocabulary
for the stage.
n See Dene Barnetts exhaustive work on the subject in The Art of Gesture, especially his
basic distinctions between gesture types (27—38).
ii Some modern critics have translated Goethe's repeatedly used "malerisch" as "de-
scriptive." I believe that this translation is insufficient and limits our understanding
of the dimensions of the term.
13 For the discussion of visual representations of Goethe's theatre, both here and in the
next chapter, several secondary works have proven useful. In recent years some im-
portant Goethe-theatre exhibitions have been mounted, often with an illustrated cat-
alogue. Of lasting value to scholars is Christina Kroll's Gesang undRede (1973), an
illustrated and commented catalogue of the Diisseldorf Goethe Museum's exhibition
of Goethe's theatre career; Jorn Gores' . ..aufklassischem Boden begeistert (1986) docu-
ments an exhibition, again by the Goethe-Museum in Diisseldorf, on Goethe in It-
aly, with relevance to his theatrical development and the visual arts; Helmut
Holtzhauer's Goethe-Museum (1969) and Karl-Heinz Hahn's Goethe in Weimar (1986)
are beautifully illustrated pictorial documentations with explanatory text of Goethe's
milieu; and Christoph Michel's Goethe. Sein Leben in Bildern und Texten (1982) offers
a handy pictorial overview. There are many other collections, of course, and most
major studies of Goethe's theatre contain some pictures.
14 For an argument in favour of Goethe's dependence on Vienna, see Erika Irene Lind-
ner's "Einfliisse des Wiener Theaters auf das Weimarer Hoftheater unter Goethes
Leitung." She claims that a huge proportion of Weimar's repertoire was Viennese
(140 of the 600 plays performed) and that Viennese music prevailed (24); that much
of the acting style was copied, especially "extemporized" play; that Vienna's overall
concept of the "Zusammenspiel" was imported (77-8); and that the administrative
structure was copied (99-100). Lindner's argument is often overstated and poorly
documented, but it has some merit.
CHAPTER 8
1 Femmel's massive, definitive catalogue of Goethe's drawings will serve as a frequent

point of reference in this chapter.
2 Manfred Kahler's delightful little Goethes Gartenhaus in Weimar (1991) gives an his-
torical and pictorial overview, recently supplemented by Dorothee Ahrendt's Goethes
Garten in Weimar (i^^).
3 Jorn Gores's Goethe in Italien is a valuable and interestingly presented account of the
journey.
4 See the "Paralipomena" to the Italienische Reise(WA\, 32, 467); Italienische Reiseen-
tries of i Sept. 1787, Nov. 1787 and 9 Nov. 1787 (i, 32, 73/142/275); letters of 14 Aug.
1787 (iv, 8, 244), 16 Feb. 1788 (iv, 8, 351-2).
5 Goethe's private comments on Egrnont have of course been collected, sorted, edited,
and discussed by various scholars, each of them injecting some personal judgement
and selection in the process. Some good and readily accessible summaries are in
Grafs Goethe tiberseine Dichtungen, n, I, which despite its title also contains corre-
spondence and writings from and by others to supplement Goethe's own; Hans
Wagener's Erlduterungen und Dokumente (2. Dokumente zur Entstehungsgeschichte.
Aufierungen Goetheszu 'Egmont'); and Miller/Reinhardt's edition of Egmont in the
MA in, i, 818-84. For my discussion I have consulted these and the four sets of indi-
ces to the WA, i.e., one for each Abteilung. These contain some 122 references to Eg-
mont from his Italienische Reise, Briefe, Tagebucher, "Ober das deutsche Theater,"
Dichtung und Wahrheit, and other miscellaneous writings; and there are eight more
in his Gesprache mit Eckermann, which are not included in the WA and for which I
have used the MA xix.
6 Herzog Carl August (u Aug. 1787, WA iv, 5, 241), Georg Joachim Goschen (1750-
1828; 15 Aug. 1787, WA iv, 5, 246), Philipp Friedrich Seidel (1755-1820; 18 Aug. 1787,
WA iv, 5, 254). The precise date he finished the play is nevertheless in doubt, though
hardly a crucial point. Goethe contradicted himself in this regard, writing in addi-
tion to the above: "Heute kann ich sagen ist Egmont fertig geworden" (i Sept. 1787,
WA i, 32, 73); and "Denn heute ist Egmont eigentlich recht vollig fertig geworden
(5 Sept. 1787, Wfl i, 32, 75).
7 Letter of 23 December 1774 to Heinrich Christian Boie (1744-1806; WA iv, 2, 220
and MA in, i, 818).
8 This is noticeable in Grafs extensive record where the period 1789 to 1796 covers a
scant half page with only one brief mention of Egmont in 1789, the next by Goethe in
1796 (u, i, 225-6).
9 See journal entries of July 1806 re his revision of Act I (WAm, 3,134), Nov. 1810 re
his concept of the entire play (in, 4,164), Jan. and Feb. 1812 re Beethoven's score (in,
4, 255/58), April 1813 re the theme of the daemonic (in, 5, 30); and more than a dozen
notes such as "Auf dem Theater wegen Egmont," "Abends Probe von Egmont,"
" Vorstellung von Egmont," "Abends Egmont," "Abends Vorstellung von Egmont,"
"Egmont" (May 1806 to Dec. 1815, in, 3,129/290; in, 4, 5/73/163; in, 5, 86/94/I45/
197).
10 For more analysis of the following biographically oriented material from the point of
view of psychoanalysis, see Eissler (i, 578-9 re Charlotte von Stein; II, 925-6 re
Goethe's father and Herzog August; and II, 1039-47 f°r a summary). Eissler s book
remains the touchstone for psychoanalytical Goethe analysis, even if unpalatable to
some because of its interpretive extremes and fundamental disinterest in literature
per se. His most recent disciple, Rainer Kaus (1994), has an equally extreme ap-
proach, and although Kaus makes superficial reference to Goethes literary works
from time to time, he is obviously little interested in them as such, content to peel
away the layers of this famous psyche. Were his analysis and conclusions applied to
any face in the crowd - and they could indeed be applied to all of us to some extent
— they would be read only by clinicians (and by few of them). Such studies occasion-
ally provide with new insights, but in general add little to our understanding of
Goethe's writings, and in many aspects they strike me as distortions of considerable
magnitude. Still, the fact that scholars write books of this type testifies to the con-
tinuing fascination for Goethes celebrity.
11 Graf speculates that Goethe had here deleted some text to which the Duke had previ-
ously objected, but manuscripts of Egmont&o not prove it conclusively. The play was
in press at the time, so a change could have been made in the printer's proofs, but
these are no longer extant (n, I, 221-2, fn. 4).
12 For a more sophisticated investigation of the historical dimension of Egmont's rela-
tionship to his ruler, and eighteenth-century notions of the state in general, see the
article by Hans Reiss.
13 The pictures are catalogued, but not reproduced. The date of publication suggests that
Tornius could have consulted this extensive early reference, but he makes no mention
of it in die article just cited. Hans Ruppert's Goethes Bibliothek (1958) allows us to check
further which critical works on art and theatre Goethe possessed. This work has its log-
ical extension in Elise Keudell s Goethe ah Benutzer der Weimarer Bibliothek (1931), a
rich source which enables us to track which works Goethe acquired and when.
14 For example "Hexenkiiche aus Macbeth" (i, #32). For an overview of die somewhat
confusing organization and contents of Femmeis collection, see the HA xiv, 573.
Drawings relating to theatre are listed in Femmel's subject indices to volumes i-m,
IVA, IVB, VIA, andviB.
15 Femmel identifies Gesprdch am Fensterzs. a Theaterprospekt? um 1780 (i, #227) and
Gejungnisszeneas a Theater-Illustration?'(i, #308). The drawing Kerkerraum is particu-
larly interesting since it shows a cage-like structure very similar to the one used in die
Bayerisches Staatsschauspiel production of Egmontin 1980, though this may simply
have been a happy accident of set design.
16 The four ladies were Luise von Gochhausen, Herzogin Louise, Herzogin-Mutter
Anna Amalia, and a Hofdame. See FA IAbt., vol. i, Abb. 24. We are reminded of
Frau von Steins Rino (Chapter 7).
17 Goethe wrote four poems in Tischbeins honour (WAl, 2,159-62). Both Tischbein
pictures mentioned here are reproduced in many secondary sources, among them
Jorn Gores' Goethe in Italien, 228 (original in Frankfurt, Stadelsches Kunstinstut) and
224 (original in Frankfurt, Freies Deutsches Hochstift).
18 This is not my discovery, others have pointed it out, for example Christoph Michel
(221).
19 He shared the duties with Friedrich Justin Bertuch from the journal's inception in
1786 through the twentieth annual volume, at which time Bertuch continued alone.
20 Holtzhauer lists the painting as "Karikatur auf hofisches Theater" (454), Marvin
Carlson as "Contemporary caricature of the Weimar repertoire" (167), but neither
cites the caption or offers commentary.
CHAPTER 9
1 Borcherdt also provides a useful and concise overview of the reception of Schiller's
version (Schillers Werke, Nationalausgabe, xm, 358-60).
2 Harry Kahn also described it as a failure, claiming that it captured neither the histor-
ical nor literary sense of the work (Weltbiihne'iî'L, 1928).
3 Drewniak, Das Theater im NS-Staat, 170. Drewniak also provides performance fre-
quency figures for Goethe's dramas during the NS period, Egmont being the fourth
most popular between 1940 and 1943 (171).
4 While there is a mass of secondary literature on this turning point and its conse-
quences, I have found Georg Hensel s Das Theater der siebzigerjahre (1980) most
helpful. It includes contemporary reviews of many key productions from the subse-
quent decade as well as some critical summaries. The pithy "Eine Alternative:
Klassiker ausschlachten oder verstehen" (322-25) puts the problem in a nutshell.
5 The chart of productions was assembled from information gathered from individual
issues of Theater derZeit, Theater heute, Die Biihne, and from annual issues of Was
spielten die Theater (1981-90) and Wer spielte was (1990-93). Despite what their titles
suggest, the latter two contain only about half of the productions on the chart. These
sources were supplemented by inquiries to the databases of the Abteilung fur Theater-
wissenschaft der Universitat Erlangen/Nurnberg, the Institut fur Theater- Film- und
Fernsehwissenschaft der Universitat in Cologne (Schlofi Wahn), the Deutsches Thea-
termuseum in Munich, the Osterreichisches Theatermuseum in Vienna and the
Schweizerische Landesbibliothek in Bern. Despite this I cannot claim the chart to be
complete. I then approached all of the theatres via either the archivist/librarian or the
representative for public relations, as listed in the 1994 Biihnenjahrbuch, with the re-
quest for access to any materials they might have on their recent production of Eg-
mont. Many were immediately forthcoming and immensely helpful, others needed
coaxing but soon proved the same, and only a very few refused to cooperate. My
thanks are expressed to the librarians and archivists in the "Acknowledgments" (p. ix).
6 Performed in July and the same production as that which followed in the Burgthea-
ter in October of the same year. While I received no response from the Festspiele,
plenty of material was acquired on the Burgtheater production, some of which also
makes reference to Bregenz.
7 Reviews and program from the theatre collection of the Stadt- und Universitatsbib-
liothek in Frankfurt/Main. There are two videotapes in this case, one consisting of
an interview with director Dietrich Hilsdorf, spliced with footage of the production
itself and produced as a ZDF television program; and a videotape of the entire perfor-
mance which I obtained from the Schauspielhaus itself.
8 With the Schillertheater dosed as of 3 October 1993 the archives remain at the time of
writing inaccessible and await relocation in the Landesarchiv, Berlin. In this produc-
tion Egmontviss experimentally - and only fragmentarily - blended with Schiller's
Don Carlos (see Theater heute, 1993:7,17-18). I know of no Egmontafter this date.
9 I quote from p. 74-5 of the typescript used by the director and dramaturgical staff as
their performance text. The new material is referred to there as the "Montage" and
the "Finale."
10 Newspapers cited in this chapter are not included in my list of secondary works at
the end of the book.
11 I also consulted reviews (all from 1970) in: Funkhaus Potsdam, 18 March (Radio
review, Hanno Meyer); Neue Zeit, 20 March; Volksblatt, 26 March; and a further,
extensive newspaper review by H.W. Meyer, acquired from the Potsdam theatre ar-
chive, but lacking precise date or source.
12 I also consulted reviews (all from 1972) in Flamme, 23 Nov. (Diana Anders); Mittel-
deutscheNeueNachrichten, 30 Nov. (E. Sch.); and Freiheit, 9 Dec. (H. Jager).
13 I was curious to ascertain whether in fact Egmont did ride a horse in Weimar, and
was assured by Mr Lindner, a veteran set designer still active there, that this was the
case, and it was a white horse to boot. Other remarkable steeds appeared on stage in
the Karlsruhe, Munich, and Frankfurt productions.
14 I also consulted a review in Der Morgen, 21 March.
15 See for example reviews (all 1984) in: Leipziger Volkszeitung, 10 Nov. (Hanne Ropke)
and 15 Nov. (Giinter Hofmann); Die Union/Leipzig, 14 Nov., reprint NeueZeit,
22 Nov. (GeorgAntosch); Neueste Nachrichten, 14 Nov.; Sachsisches Tageblatt, 14 Nov.
(Constanze Schneider); and Sender Leipzig (oral review), n Dec. (Minzel). The only
exception I know of is Matthias Frede's niggardly commentary in Theater der Zeit,
1985:2,16-17.
16 So reported Hans-Martin Rahner, one of the production's dramaturges, who despite
his obvious conflict of interest, would surely not fabricate the reaction entirely (Ber-
liner Zeitung, 13, 14 Sept. 1986). His report is supported by others in Die Neue Zeit,
6 Sept. 1986 and the National-Zeitung, 17 Sept. 1986 (Wilfriede Eichler).
17 Beyond those mentioned already, I also consulted the following GDR and FRG re-
views (all 1986): Berliner Zeitung (Dieter Kiebs),Junge Welt(tienryk Goldberg), Der
Morgen (Christoph Funke), National-Zeitung (Rolf-Dieter Eichler) all 25 March;
Neue Zeit (Helmut Ullrich), Neues Deutschland (Gerhard Ebert), Tribune (Wolfgang
Gersch) all 26 March; Weltbtihne, i April (Giinther Cwojdrak), Der Tagesspiegel,
3 April (Michael Stone), Wochenpost, u April (Anne Braun), EulenspiegeL, n.d. issue
17,1986 (Carl Andriefien), and a selection of comments from members of the audi-
ence published in Theater der Zeit, 1986:8,15—19.
18 The documentation to which I have access in this instance is limited. My direcr in-
quiry to the Schauspielhaus in Cologne produced a pleasant response expressing re-
gret that "wir im Theater selber nur die letzten 5 Jahre archiviert haben." The
Theatermuseum in Cologne (Schlofi Wahn) does have reviews of the production,
but I have not gained access to an annotated text book or a videotape of the perfor-
mance.
19 SiiddeutscheZeitung, Silvester 1974/Neujahr 1975 (i.e. 31 Dec. 1974/1 Jan. 1975), 36.
20 Interview with Zischler and Krumme in the Zeitung of the Badisches Staatstheater
Karlsruhe (Jan. 1980), 7.
21 The key secondary document for the Karlsruhe discussion is the director's book, re-
printed as the program. I have also consulted the following published discussions
and reviews (all 1980), which (with two exceptions, Horst Ziermann and Riidiger
Krohn), show a uniform appreciation of the production: Badische Neueste Nachrich-
ten Karlsruhe, 23 Jan. and 28 (Gertrud Waldecker); Die Welt, 30 Jan. (Horst Zier-
mann); Boblinger Bate, 31 Jan., reprint Heilbronner Stimme, i Feb., Esslinger Zeitung,
6 Feb. and Theater-Rundschau, 1980:3 (Dieter Schnabel); Stuttgarter Zeitung, i Feb.,
3Oi Notes to pages 146-51
reprinted in Die Reinpfalz, Nr. 24 (date unknown) (Riidiger Krohn); Offenburger

Tageblatt, 2 Feb. (Franz Josef Wehinger); Abendpost Frankfurt, n Feb., reprint Ober-
badisches Volksblatt, 6 Feb. (Walter Rohrig); Wildbader Tagblatt, 12 Feb.; and Theater
heute, 1980:3, 29-31 (Christoph Mtiller, Peter Krumme).
22 Despite Macher's endorsement there seems to have been little disagreement among
critics and audiences that the director "adapted" Goethe's text to the extreme. I have
also consulted these reviews (all 1980): Suddeutsche Zeitung, 30 Oct. (C. Bernd
Sucher); Miinchener Merkur, 31 Oct. (Armin Eichholz); Neue Presse/Coburg, 31 Oct.
(Hannes S. Macher); City, 1980:3, reprinted with revisions in Tageszeitung Miinchen,
n. d. (Rolf May); AbendzeitungMunchen (n. d., Ingrid Seidenfaden).
23 Archivist Rudolf Gretscher informed me that a videotape of the performance likely
exists, but it is not in the archive and I could not gain access to it.
24 As if twinged by conscience, someone has written beside this technical direction: "Viel-
leicht kann man den Beethoven irgendwie in das Klangbild integrieren" (100). On a
different aspect, as mentioned in the last chapter, the cage and set for this scene bear a
curious similarity to the "Kerkerraum" sketched by Goethe about 1768-70 (Femmel, I,
#174), but I have no evidence that the Munich producers had this in mind.
25 I have consulted the following (all 1982): Rheinische Post, n May (Herbert Slevogt),
Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung (Jochen Schmidt), Kolnische Rundschau (Horst Zier-
mann), Miinchner Merkur (Giinter Engelhard), Neue Rhein Zeitung (Birgit Kolgen),
Niirnberger Nachrichten (Hans Bertram Bock), Rheinische Post (Lore Schaumann),
Westdeutsche Zeitung (Dieter Westecker), Stuttgarter Nachrichten (Ulrich Schreiber),
Die Welt (Kathrin Bergmann), all 17 May; Abendzeitung Munchen (Gert Gliewe),
Darmstadter Echo (Siegfried Kienzle), Frankfurter Rundschau (Peter Iden), Stuttgarter
Zeitung (Wolfgang Ignee), all 18 May; Rheinischer Merkur (Giinter Engelhard), Siid-
deutsche Zeitung (Jens Wendland), Die Zeit, all 21 May; Deutsches Allgemeines
SonntagsbLttt Hamburg, 23 May (Wolfgang Ruf); Mannheimer Morgen, 27 May
("hey"); DieRheinpfalz, 27 May (Lothar Beck); Kolner Stadt-Anzeiger, 29 May
(Rainer Hartmann); Die Weltwoche, 2 June; UberblickDiisseldorf, June (Otto Heuer);
Theater heute, 1982:7, jjf.
26 Many more such comments could be cited, and of all the reviews listed in the previ-
ous note, only two are positive (Siegfried Keinzle, Darmstadter Echo; and "hey,"
Mannheimer Morgen on a guest performance of the production in the Pfalzbau-
Theater, Ludwigshafen.
27 Egmont as a latent transvestite? Hilsdorf teases us with the idea. At least one critic of
repute, Kurt Eissler, might have supported him — see his interpretation of the scene
as evidence of Egmont's, and Goethe's, exhibitionism (i, 605).
28 The inclusion of Schiller had more significance for Frankfurt audiences at the time
than his historical association with Egmont alone. Frankfurt intendant Gunther
Riihle mounted Schiller's Don Carlos in tandem in an attempt to draw historical, lit-
erary, and thematic connections between the two works, both of which were con-
ceived in 1787/88. Critics generally agreed that Don Carlos was a failure, with Egmont
taking full honours.
29 Hilsdorf perhaps studied the Frankfurt history of Egmontproductions, though I have

no evidence to confirm or deny this. If not, it was a stroke of good fortune.
30 I have consulted these reviews and discussions (all 1986): Frankfurter Neue Presse,
24 Oct. (Gesprach mit Hilsdorf) and 25 Oct. (CIS), Frankfurter Abendpost (Stefanie
Zweig), BiId (Rudolf Rahn), Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung (Gerhard Rohde), Frank-
furter Neue Presse (Claudio Isani), Frankfurter Rundschau (Peter Iden), all 27 Oct.;
Allgemeine Zeitung Mainz (Jens Frederiksen), Giefiener Anzeiger (Hans-Jiirgen
Linke), Die Neue Arztliche (Gerhard Rohde), Die Welt (Rudolf Kramer-Badoni),
Wetzlarer Neue Zeitung (Peter Merck), Wiesbadener Kurier, all 28 Oct.; DieRhein-
pfalz, 29 Oct. (Dietrich Wappler); Siiddeutsche Zeitung, 29 Oct. (C. Bernd Sucher);
Rhein-NeckarZeitung, 5 Nov. (Fritz Bajorat); Auftritt, 1986:12 (Carsten Jager); Top
Magazin (G.M.), 1986:12; Theater heute, 1987:1 (Peter von Becker); and the Andere
Zeitung Frankfurt, 1987:2 (Silke Renner).
31 The exception: C. Bernd Sucher's bitterly negative review in the SuddeutscheZeitung,
29 Oct. 1986, suggests that the modern world to him remains incomprehensible.
Silke Renner's superficial trearment in the Andere Zeitung Frankfurt, 1987:2, could be
counted as a second of the sort, but it is too slight and trivial to bear weight in either
camp.
32 Rainer Wagner, Hannoversche Allgemeine Zeitung, 18 Sept. 1992.1 have also consulted
the following reviews and discussions of this production, some of which concentrate
more on Beethoven than on Goethe (all 1982): General-Anzeiger, 9 Sept. (Ulfert
Woydt); General-Anzeiger, 10 Sept. (interview with Kreidl, Bernhard Hartmann);
ORF Radio review, 16 Sept. (Doris Kunzmann); Banner Rundschau, 18 and 19 Sept.,
reprinted in Theater-Rundschau October (H.D. Terschiiren); Express (Elisabeth E.
Tschapke), General-Anzeiger (Hans G. Schiirmann), KolnerStadt-Anzeiger^KH),
Rheinische NeueZeitung(Horst Ziermann), Rhein-Zeitung (Matthias Norquet), Die
Welt (Reinhard Tschapke), Westdeutsche Zeitung (Andreas Wink), all 18 Sept.; Frank-
furter Allgemeine Zeitung, 19 Sept. (Andreas Rossmann); NurnbergerZeitung, 21 Sept.
(Dieter Sparrer); Annonce. RheinArt, 23 Sept. ("rae" and "he"); Die Rheinpfalz,
25 Sept., reprinted in Neues RheinlandNovember (Werner Schulze-Reimpell); Ban-
ner Rundschau, loOct., reprinted Theater Rundschau in December (H.D. Terschiiren
- an odd reversal of his piece on 18,19 Sept.); and the Rheinischer Merkur, Oct. 1992
(Giinter Engelhard). The reviews describe what they generally judge to be a lacklus-
tre theatre production, overshadowed by its musical "accompaniment," but as we
might expect, for reasons that have nothing to do with theatre, music, or aesthetics,
the audience at the premiere was wildly enthusiastic in its response. Later reactions
(with no free champagne included) were mixed.
33 Respectively Gyorgy Sebestyen in the Salzburger Nachrichten and Fritz Koselka in the
Wiener Zeitung, both 22 June 1971.1 also consulted the following reviews (all 1971):
Kurier (Wien) (Gustav W. Trampitsch), 17 June; Kurier (Wien) (Paul Blaha), 21 June;
Die Presse (Gotthard Bohm), 26 June; Abendzeitung (Wien) (Harald Sterk), Ober-
osterreichische Nachrichten Linz (Ludwig Plakolb), Vorarlberger Nachrichten Bregenz,
NeueZeit Graz, all 22 June; Sudost Tagespost Graz (Heinrich Neumayer), Tinier
Tageszeitung Innsbruck (Krista Hauser), Wochenpresse (Wien) (Duglore Pizzini), all

23 June; Vomrlberger Volksblatt Bregenz, 7 July; Die Buhne, 1971 July, 8-10.
34 Respectively, Irmgard Steiner, Neues Volksblattand Heinz Sichrovsky, Arbeiter Zei-
tung, 5 October 1982. Die Buhne, Sept. 1992, 9—12 contains an overview of public and
critical reaction to the production and its place within the context of the problem of
"klassisches Erbe," as well as an interview with Palitzsch. I have also consulted these
further reviews (all 1982): AbendZeit, 24, 25 July (Ingrid Seidenfaden, re Bregenz);
Frankfurter Rundschau, 3 August. (Otto Hochreiter, re Bregenz); DiePresse, i Oct.;
Oberosterreichische Nachrichten, Kleine Zeitung (Kurt Wimmer), Wiener Zeitung (Ru-
dolf U. Klaus), Kronen-Zeitung(Viktor Reimann), Salzburger Nachrichten (Alfred
Pfoser), DiePresse(Karin Kathrein), all 5 Oct.; Katholische Presse ("b."), 6 Oct.; Die
Furche (Hellmut Butterweck), 7 Oct.; Stuttgarter Zeitung (Cornelia KrauE), Suddeut-
sche Zeitung (Otto F. Beer), both 8 Oct.; Profit ("S.L."), n Oct.; Theater heute,
1982:10 (Manfred Seiler, re Bregenz); and Frankjurter Neue Presse (reprint Otto F.
Beer), 4 Oct. In several cases, the same critics reviewed the 1971 Burgtheater and 1981
Volksdieater productions of Egmont, providing material for interesting comparisons.
35 Only Cornelia Kraufi, Stuttgarter Zeitung, struck a positive tone, but even she
warned of the "hohen Anspruch an den Zuschauer, der sich diesem Prozel? unterzie-
hen will." I discount the flighty account in Profit which in its subtitle claims that
"Der vielverissene Burg-'Egmont' hat dennoch unleugbare Meriten," but fails to
point out a single one.
36 Although he does not refer to this production, W! Daniel Wilson's excellent discus-
sion of Egmont staging and the performance of citizen scenes widi grotesque masks in
a carnival manner seems to reflect some of what Palitzsch actually did (1994, 86-7).
37 See 1981 reviews in the Neues Volksblatt (Remit Wagner), Oberosterreichische Nach-
richten (Ludwig Plakolb), Oberiisterreichisches Tageblatt Linz (Eric Derman), Die
Presse (Hans Haider), Salzburger Nachrichten (Oliver vom Hove), Volksstimme Wien,
reprint (same date) Volkswille Klagenfurt, Wahrheit Graz (Hugo Huppert), Wiener
Morgen Kurier (Kurt Kahl), Wiener Zeitung (Rudolf U. Klaus), all 27 March; Neue
Zeit Graz, 28 March; Wiener WochenbLut, 4 April; Wiener Kirchenzeitung (S.J.),
5 April; Siid Ost Tagespost (Monika Schneider), n April; Die Buhne, May, pp. 3, 4
and 6.
38 Neue Zurcher Zeitung, 22 Sept. 1970.1 also read the following reviews (all 1970): Neue
Zurcher Nachrichten (Carl Holenstein), Zurichsee-Zeitung (Richard Merz), Tagesan-
zeiger Zurich (Peter Meier), Neue Zurcher Zeitung (I.V.), all 26 Sept.; Abend-Zeitung
(Ziirich) (Gustav Huonker), Die Tat (Zurich) (ebs.), both 28 Sept.; Mannheimer
Morgen, SaarbriickerZeitung(Jiirgen Buschkiel), both 29 Sept.; Vaterland(Beatrice
von Matt), 30 Sept.; Die Welt (reprint Jiirgen Buschkiel), i Oct., Die Weltwoche
(Zurich) (Werner Wollenberger), i Oct. and (Manuel Gasser), 2 Oct.; StuttgarterZei-
tung(Jiirgen Buschkiel), 6 Oct.; Die Biihne (Th.T.), 1970:10; Der Landbote (Heidi
Baur), 4 Nov.; Abend-Zeitung (Zurich) (Ernst Wohlwend), Hochwacht(ha), both
5 Nov.; Tribune de Geneve (Claude Henry), 26 Nov.; SchaffhauserZeitung(V.),
Schaffhauser Nachrichten (xp), 4 Dec.; Schaffhauser Abend-Zeitung (kb), II Dec.
39 Finally, my knowledge of Hotst Gnekow's Bern Egmont of 1976 is limited largely to

the awareness that, although advertised in the program as Goethe's tragedy, it was
played "unter Verwendung der Biihnenfassung von Friedrich Schiller." But since all
of Goethe's characters are present, it must have been a hybrid.
40 A ninth, HerzogAlba undPrinz Wilhelm von Oranien (Solar-Film, 1919), seems to
have been based on the same historical events. My list of Egmont films is derived pri-
marily from Albert Estermann, Die Verfilmung literarischer Werke (1965); Herbert Bi-
rett, Das Filmangebot in Deutschland 1895-ion (1991); Knut Hickethier, Das
Fernsehspiel(1980); Hans-Michael Bock, ed., Cinegraph (1984); Lexikon des Interna-
tionalen Films (1987); Alan Goble, ed., The International Film Index (1991); Herbert
Holba, ed., Reclams deutsches Filmlexikon (1984,1993); Ulrich Scheele, ed., Verzeich-
nis Lieferbarer Kaufoideos 1093 (1993); Lexikon der Fernsehspiele (1977-93); and Horst
Schafer, ed., Fischer Film Almanack (1985-94). Making lists of films is one thing,
finding and viewing them quite another. Many are simply no longer available, others
in archives or private collections which refuse access or allow it only at enormous
cost. I discuss all the films to which I have gained access through reasonable cost and
effort.
41 I have, however, profited from some secondary literature on film analysis, which has
suggested to me many questions to be asked and perspectives to consider. Works in-
clude Alfred Estermann, as above; Werner Faustig, Einfiihrung in die Filmanalyse
(1976); Louis Giannetti, Understanding Movies (1993); Monika Reif, Film und Text
(1984); and Eric Rentschler, ed. German Film and Literature (1986). There are also
two worthwhile discussions on theatre adapted for television and film in Theater
heute, 1973:9, 20-31 and 1988:3, 52-6 and Theater 1992, Hrsg. von der Redaktion der
Zeitschrift Theater heute, 54-65.
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actors and acting, 18,122: celebrity status, Bonn, 253—4; Brandenburg, 238;
185,190-1, 247, 268; confusing identity Cologne, 243; Dessau, 235, 254; Dussel-
with role, 127; declamatory style, dorf, 248, 257; Frankfurt, 140,145, 251,
189-90; effectiveness, 146,162-3, 266-7; Hamburg, 137-9; Innsbruck,
177—81; female, 128; guides, I93n6; in- 258; Karlsruhe, 244-5; Mannheim, 121,
competence and misbehaviour, 126—7, 133; Munich, 226, 246; Potsdam, 232;
131,192-3; methodology, 143-4; natural Vienna, 115,125,135-6, 256-7; Weimar,
style, 194,194n8; overview of technique, 236
I93n6; reviews of, 135—7; rhetorical tech- Bellomo (Bellonio, Josef), 92
nique, 139,142; and society, 219; and the Benda, Karoline, 127
visual arts, 193,195—6. See also blocking; Bennett, Benjamin, 6, 11, 269
costumes Bennewitz, Fritz, 236-7, 256
aesthetic norms, 126 Beschort Friedrich Jonas, 131—2,169,
Alter, Jean, 19 180-1, 264
Anna Amalia, Countess, 191, 209; library blocking, 121, 137, 142; in Mannheim, 199
in Weimar, I53n7,191n2 Brechtian technique, 256
audience, who had read text, 126, 129,132, Breth, Andrea, 230
178; social interactions of, 140 Bottiger, Karl August, 106-7,144, 166,
177-80, 223
Barba, Eugenio, 21 Borcherdt, Hans Heinrich, Nationalaus-
Becker, Johann Heinrich Christian Lud- gabe of Schiller's works, 16, 23, 25-7, 31;
wig, 142,150,180-1 on the Mannheim manuscript, 34;
Beethoven, Ludwig van manuscript sources, 26-8
- and Goethe, 227 Borchmeyer, Dieter, 15, 25
- score to Egmont, 15, 94,115,121,125,132, Brook, Peter, 21
133, 135-6, 137-9, 140, 145; in produc- Brussels, 7, 210—11, 256, 259, 265
tions, 15-16, 94; Berlin, 132, 229, 240; in Buckwitz, Harry, 259—61
321 Index
canon of literature, 142 curtain, 116,121,130,161, 178,197, 256

Carl August, Duke of Weimar, 131-2,
I53n7, 210-15 daemonic, 11, 13, 26, 259, 269
censor, 129,138, 146 Dalberg, Wolfhgang Heribert von, 6,135,
characters 198-9
- Alba, 107,153, 263; picture of, 182; and deja-vu/lu/entendu, 144-6
Ferdinand, 106-7, 265 director's book, 27n1, 29, 231, 244, 260; in-
— Brackenburg, 153-4 structions, I2I-2
— deleted, 136, 141 drama, dramatic literature, 5,144, 226,
- Egmont: and Alba, 105-6, 264; and citi- 268; historical, 14, 212
zens, 159; and Ferdinand, 105,107,113; Duntzer, Heinrich, 8,157
as hero, 105,107, 111, 167, 246; and Dyk, Johann Gottfried, 196
Klarchen, 155-6, 159-60, 246-7; and
Oranien, 264; as Knight of the Golden Eckardt, Siegfried Gotthelf, 92, 140
Fleece, 155-6, 177,184, 264, 265, 267; Eckermann, Johann Peter, 93, 107, 215-16
pictures, 182-5; as transvestite, 251n27 editions, reliability, 7. See also Egmont,
— erotic depiction of, 224 editions
— female, 96 Egmont
- framing, 153-6 - citizen scenes, 96, 104, 110—11, 120-1,
- Klarchen, 161-2, 215, 266,155n8; as ac- 142, 236, 246, 251, 255-6, 264
tive heroine, 105; as allegory, 178; and - dramatic effectiveness, 95—6
Brackenburg, 113; as passive partner, - dream vision infinalact, 12,15-16,106,
107; pictures, 182-4 132-4,138,142,162-7; in Mainz, 128-30
- Oranien, picture of, 184 premiere, 128-9; in Weimar (1796),
— profiling, 96 177—81; in modern productions, 232—3,
— reduction in number of, 95-6 239, 242-3, 244, 247, 248, 254, 256, 258,
- stage, 184, 190, 222, 268 260. See also vision
— transformation of, 18-19 - duration of performance, 113,141;
chorus,13O 2 hours, 239; 3 hours, 234, 237;
cinema. See film 31/4 hours, 113; 31/2 hours, 247-8, 263;
classicism, classical: associations, 150; 4 hours, 251
attitude, 206, 222-3; costumes, 224; - editions, 24-6
culture, 210; German, 4-5, 11, 145; tradi- - extratextual information, 123
tion ("klassisches Erbe"), 229, 234, 267; - on film, 261—7. See also film
works, 131, 146, 229; writers, 5, 18 - and Goethe's psychological state, 210-18
coding and decoding, 17, 19, 148. See also - historical dimensions, 142,144,146, 212,
semiotics 214n12
costumes, 129, 132,134-5, 137-8, 142,146, - language of, 10-11
197; actors' choice of, 197; ahistorical, - length:fiveacts, 107,119,130,133,135-7,
238-9, 246, 250-1, 257-8, 260; colour of 141, 232, 237, 240, 255, 260; four acts,
142, 264, 267; Egmont's Spanish, 183, 120,130,133,139; three acts, 29,107,121,
242, 251, 263-5, 267; and fashion, 224; 131,136, 232
in films, 263; Goethe as Orest, 190; — literary aspects, 114, 144
Goethe's views on, 197; historical, - maskedfigures(Vermummte), 96,
243, 245, 248, 250-1, 256, 258; in 106—7, 114, 116, 215—16
Mannheim, 198; Schroter as Iphigenie, — as paradigm, 11, 93, 269
190 - performed in: Aachen, 125, 230-31;
322 Index
Amsterdam, 240-1; Augsburg, 125; Aus- - visual aspects of, 15-16, 96,132-3,138,
tria and Switzerland (modern), 254-61; 142,146, 256, 260, 266, 269
Berlin, 29, 94,123,124-5,128,130-3, — See also symbols; text
136,180, 228, 230-31, 240-42, 264; Einsiedel, Friedrich Hildebrand von, 186,
Bern, 230-31; Bonn, 136, 230-31, 253-4; 189,193,195
Brandenburg, 230-31, 238-9; Braun- Ekhof, Conrad, 193
schweig, 125,145; Bregenz, 230-31, 256; Ellis, John, 12-14
Bremen, 125; Breslau, 125-6,128, 135; Engel, Johann Jakob, 193-6, 294n6
Cologne, 125-6, 230-31, 243-4; Darm-
stadt, 125; Dessau, 230-31, 234-6; Dres- Fambach, Oscar, 124-5, 147
den, 125-6,143; Diisseldorf, 230-31, film(s), 7, 33,121,137,160-1,179,182, 219,
247-9, 263-4; Eisenach, 230-31, 238; 261-7, 231 242, 254, 258; analysis, 262;
the Federal Republic of Germany, of Berlin production, 264; close-ups,
243—54; Florence, 123; Frankfurt/Main, 263, 265; of Diisseldorf production,
94,114,124-6, 128, 134,140-7,150, 263-4; of Egmont, 262, 264—7; by Hils-
180-1, 225, 228, 230-31, 249-53; the dorf, 253, 266—7; of literary works, 262;
German Democratic Republic, 232—42; by Schiemann, 262, 264-5; of stage pro-
Greifswald, 230-31, 238; Halle, 93, ductions, 262-4; by Wirth, 262, 265-6;
125-6; Hamburg, 94,123-5,128-9, by Zischler, 244-6
137—40; Hannover, 125; Innsbruck, Fischer-Lichte, Erika, 18—19
230-31, 258; Karlsruhe, 125,127, 230-31, Fontane, Theodor, 123
244-6; Kassel, 125; Lauchstadt, 93, Frankfurter-Ausgabe, 25,124
125—6; Leipzig, 29, 93—4,125-6, Frederick William111,King of Prussia,
134-5, 230-31, 2.39-40, 249; Leningrad, 130-1, 241
240; Mainz (premiere, 1789), 92,114—15, Fuchs, Oswald, 258
124—5,128—32,140; Mannheim, 28, 94, Furtwangler, Wilhelm, 229
124—5,127—8,133—5; Moscow, 240; Mu-
nich, 94,124-5, 230—1, 246—7; Potsdam, Geistesgeschichte, 8,16
230-4; Prague, 125; Salzburg, 230—1, Genast, Anton, 107, 192
258; Stuttgart, 125,128,136-7; Vienna, Genast, Eduard, 107, 184
92,115,124—5,128,135-6, 230-1, gender crossing, 11
254—61; Weimar (1791), 92,125; Weimar Germanistik, 144, 247, 268; and Theater-
(1796), 3,106,125,131, 139,143, 176-81, wissenschaft, 124
215-16; Weimar thereafter, 93,123,125, Geyser, Christian Gottlieb, 168
137,184, 230-1, 236-8; Wiesbaden, 130; Glass, Philip, 251
Zurich, 230-1, 259-61 Gochhausen, Luise Ernestine Christiane
phases of development, 210-11 von, 190—1
political aspects, 11, 138, 234-5, 239, 241, Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von: as actor,
244, 255-6, 257-8, 260, 265, 267 21—2,187,189—92; adoration of, 131, 227;
prison scene, 106,129, 232-3, 242-3, aesthetics, theatre, 137,142, 165,194-9,
247, 260, 264 217-24, 256; and Beethoven, 227; birth-
productions (1789-1832), 123-47; (1832- day, 139, 264; as civil servant, 21; collab-
69), 226-9; (1970-95), 124, 229-61, 247 oration with Schiller, 26,176—81; and
songs deleted by Schiller, 28 costuming, 197; death, 139, 143, 230; de-
songs in, 105,115, 235, 239, 243, 253, 259 pendence on Vienna, I98n14; Dichtung
structure of, 10-11,15, 33, 94-5,119 und Wahrheit, 152, 210-15; "Uber den
and the visual arts, 210-24 Dilettantismus," 192—3; as director, 7,
323 Index
19, 21, 135,192—8, 269; drawings and Herder, Johann Gottfried, 24, 210
paintings by, 188, 200-4, 217—21; Heyme, Hansgiinther, 243-4, 247
Eginard, 204, 221; Erwin und Elmire, Hilsdorf, Dietrich, 244, 249-53
218; his father, 213; Faust, 6,142, 218, Hitler, Adolf, and National Socialism, 229,
245; garden house, 200, 209; Gesprdche, 247
212; Hermann und Dorothea, 175, 184; Holtei, Carl Eduard von, 126
Iphigenie auf Tauris, 187,189—91, 215, hooded figures. See Egmont, masked figures
217; Italienische Reise, 167,179, 210-13, Huber, Ludwig Ferdinand, 165-6
216-18; Jeri undBdtely, 218; natiirliche Hufeland, Christoph Wilhelm, 190
Tochter, 245; and painting, 167,195; and Humboldt, Wilhelm von, 196
politics, 212; as private citizen, 21; Propy-
Iden, 196; Proserpina essay, 196; "Regeln icon, 4,17, 20,139,146. See also image
fur Schauspieler," 193-8; Romische Ele- Iffland, August Wilhelm, 6-7, 19, 92,107,
gien, 9; as scientist, 21; as set designer, 131-2,135,192; performance in Weimar
197; as stage character, 22, 187,189-92; (1796), 176-81; as prototype, 143-4,
Tasso, 217; and Thackeray, 222; and the- 264; visits to Weimar later, 193
atre architecture, 218-19; theatre exhibi- Ihering, Herbert, 228
tions, I97n13; as universal poet, 21; Ilmenau, 215-16
Urgotz, 228; "Urworte. Orphisch", 245; image, aspects of, 4, 7; as icon, 157-9, 2-69;
and the visual arts, 217—18; Wahlver- literary, 7; of mankind, 210; moving,
wandschaften, 223; Werther, 245; Wil- 160,179; playwright's, 269; power of, 95;
helm Meister, 21—2; Xenien, 250; public, 183, 210, 215; of the self, 21,154,
Zauberlehrling, 245. See also icon 210; in society, 209-24; static, 196; in
Gopfert, Herbert G., 31-2 text, 149-53, 167; of war, 149-51,177
Goring, Hermann, 229
Goflfmann, Erving, 21, 153-6 Jacobi, Friedrich Heinrich, 215
Gottschalk, Hans, 262, 265-6 Jagemann, Caroline, 191
Gravelines, Battle of, 157-8 Jessner, Leopold, 228
groupings, scenic, 146 John, Ernst Carl Christian, 27n1
Griindgens, Gustav, 229 John, Johann August Friedrich, 27n1
Griiner, Karl Franz, 193 Joseph 11, Emperor of Austria, 7,15, 125,
Gryphius, Andreas, 150 210
Jury, Johann Friedrich Wilhelm, 169,171-2
Hacks, Peter, 5
Hamburger-Ausgabe, 25 Kalb, Charlotte von, 215
Hamilton, Gavinus, 207 Kant, Immanuel, 250
Hamilton, Lady (Emma Harte), 206-7 Kauffmann, Angelika, 168,173, 179-81,
Hamilton, Sir William, 222-3 183, 210, 215, 217
Haneke, Michael, 246 Kayser, Karl, 239
harmony in stage productions, 4,142,146, Kayser, Philipp Christoph, 114-15, 210
194-7, 217, 236 Kilian, Eugen, 141,153n7,167, 167n17,178,
Haugk, Dietrich, 244, 254-6 I78n5, 226-8, 253
Hendel-Schiitz, Johanna Henriette Rosine, Klein, Anton von, 215
223 Knebel, Carl Ludwig von, 215
Henry, Martha, 230 Koch, Heinrich Gottfried, 129
Henschel brothers, 182 Koch, Siegfried Gotthelf Eckardt, 129
Herder, Caroline, 211 Kowzan, Tadeusz, 17—19
324 Index
Kraus, Georg Melchior, 186-7, 189, 197, — Schlofi-Museum, 28

223 - scribe, 104-5, 107,112-13, 115-16, 122.
Kreidl, Heinz, 253—4 - second manuscript, 30
Kronacher, Alwin, 228 — set changes, 116
Krumme, Peter, 245 - Theatergesetze, 198—9
Kupke, Peter, 232-4 Marxist approach, 12
media studies, 33
Langhoff, Wolfgang, 229, 235, 239 Meltke, Martin, 238
Lessing, Gotthold Ephraim, 193 Meteren, Emmanuel van, 148
Liebhabertheater (private theatre) in methodology, 16—22
Weimar, 22,189-90, 222 Meyer, Johann Heinrich, 176
lighting, 116,120-1,137,137, 248; in Berlin, Mickel, Karl, 232-4
241; Brandenburg, 238; dream vision Mickisch, Irmgard, 233
scene, 181,183; Diisseldorf, 249, 264; Miller, Norbert, 6-7, 25-6
films, 263; Frankfurt, 266; of house, mime (pantomime) and gestures, 115,122,
146,178,199, 251; in Karlsruhe, 245, 247; 132, 134,162,166,178-81,196, 237,
Mannheim, 199; Vienna, 257 263-4
Lips, Johann Heinrich, 173,183 monarchy,11, 107; criticism of, 111; foreign,
Lowe, Ferdinand, 135,142 125
Luyken, Jakob, 158 Morgenstern, Johann Ludwig Ernst,
200-01
Mannheim Morghen, Raphael, 207
- blocking plans, 199 Motte-Fouque, Friedrich Baron de la, 107,
- costumes, 198—9 215-16
- curtain, 116 moving pictures. See film
- Dalberg, 198-9 Miiller, Adam, 217
- decline, 199 Miinchner Ausgabe, 7,10, 25-6,124
- director's book, 29-30 Musculus, Christian Theodor, 107
- lighting changes, 116,120,199 music, 114-15,121,139. See also Beethoven,
- manuscript of Egmont, 7,16, 23, 27, 32, Kayser (Philipp), Reichardt
34-91, 36-91, 94-6, 231; abbreviations,
35; additions, 34; copyist's changes, 97, Naeke, Gustav Heinrich, 169,172-3
106,114; deletions, 28, 34; description, Naples, 221—3
34; differences from Schiller's adapta- Nelson, Admiral Horatio Viscount, 222
tion, 31, 96-107; emendations, 27-8, Netherlands (Lowlands), 10,125, 142, 149-
108-12, no; by later hands, 116-22; ex- 50,157-9, ^4-5, 212, 229, 256, 259;
tratextual markings, 30,108,112-13, songs, 239. See also Egmont performed in
114-22; marginal notations, 34-5,112; Amsterdam
performance instructions, 34 Nikulka, Hans-Jiirgen, 241
- Nationaltheater, 6,133,176,198-9 Noelte, Rudolf, 244, 247, 256, 263
- prompter, 115
- prompter's book, 30, 255-6, 258 Oels, Carl Ludwig, 184
- prompter's emendations, 19, 29 Oeser, Adam Friedrich, 168,178,181,183
- ReiE-Museum, 3, 23, 32, 36
- rhetorical dimension, 122 painting, 96,163,185; Dutch, 158, 235,
- rhetorical style, 122 248-9; English, 197; Renaissance, 167,
- Schiller there, 176 217. See also Goethe and painting
325 Index
Palitzsch, Peter, 244, 247, 256-8 — adaptation alterations, 96-107

Pavis, Patrice, 17-18 - aesthetics of theatre, 165
Peirce, Charles, 17 - birthday, 239
performance, 4-5,15, 30; analysis and - Don Carlos, 251n28
semiology, 16-22,156,158, 268; recon- — dramaturgy, 16
struction, 119; reflections of text in, - Egmont adaptation, 3, 9-10,16, 24-33,
123—47; tension between performance 92-7,141; in Geschichte desAbfalls der
and text, 95,129,141,143, 146. See also vereinigten Niederlande, 148; Leipzig,
Egmont, performed in 239-40; on the modern stage, 250-1
Philipp 11, King of Spain, 151, 256 - in Mannheim, 176
photographs, 182, 230—1 - Rauber, 29n9
plastic arts, 134,196—8 — review of Egmont (1788), 123,162,165—6,
prompter's book, 29n7. See also Mann- 181, 218, 233, 255
heim, prompter's book — Wallenstein, 93
psychoanalysis, 14, 211n10; and Weimar — See also Goethe, collaboration
society, 14 Schinkel, Carl Friedrich, 140
Schmelka, Johann Heinrich Ludwig, 126
radio, 33 Schmid, Christian Heinrich, 195-6
Raffael (Raffaello Santi), 217. See also Schmidt, Friedrich Ludwig, 137
Schadow Schmidt, Heinrich, 106
Rahner, Martin, 241 Schneider, Karl, 234—6
Ramberg, Johann Heinrich, 170-2,174, Schonemann, Johann Friedrich, I93n5
181, 208 Schroter, Corona, 187,189-91, 222
Regiebuch. See director's book Schubert, Franz, 251
Regietheater, 229, 257, 260 Schwerdgeburth, Carl August, 170,172-5,
Rehberg, Friedrich, 223 181, 208
rehearsals, 136, 194-5, 197 screen. See film
Reichardt, Johann Friedrich, 115,121,131 Seidel, Philipp Friedrich, 215
Reinhardt, Hartmut, 6-7,10, 25-6 semiotics, 33; theatre, 16-22,137,140, 230;
Reinhardt, Max, 228 Prague school of, 190
Reinhold, Carl Wilhelm, 193 sets, 19, 116, 132,142,146; design, 134,137;
Rentzlich, 170 and Goethe's drawings, 221; innovative,
role playing, 184—5 242, 259—60
Rome, 15, 210, 214-15, 221 Shakespeare, William, 9
Rustler-Ourth, Renate, 230, 258 sociohistorical analysis, 32
Solter, Friedo, 240-2, 244, 247
Saxe-Weimar, Duchy of, 15 Soufflierbuch/Souffleurbuch. See prompter's
scene changes, 115—16; framing, 159—62; book
number in Egmont, 95—6; order in Spain, occupying force, 96,165, 239
Egmont, 120 Stae'l, Madame de, 166
Schadow, Friedrich Wilhelm von, 171, "Staffage," 195, I95n10
181, 217 stage, staging, 33,141; crew, 115; modern,
Schauspielkunst, 143,146. See also actor, 184, 257; directions, 183; Schiller's
methodology directions, 28,114-22,162-3
Schechner, Richard, 21 static impression, 95
Schiemann, Helmut, 264-5 Stein, Charlotte von, 191, 200, 209, 211
Schiller, Friedrich von Stein, Fritz von, 200, 215
326 Index
Stein, Peter, 229 Unzelmann, Friedrike Auguste Konra-

Strada, Famianus, 148 dine, 130-2
symbols: of darkness and light, 150-1;
horse, II, 151-3,153n7, 210, 236, 245, 263, Vermummte. See Egmont, masked figures
267, 236n13; river, 150; tree, 151, 265; vision, 162—7; visual arts, 210, 217—24; cli-
window, 159-62, 264-5 max, 116, 160, 236, 260; elements, 115;
impact, 156,183; transformation, 116.
tableau, 15; vivant, 222-3 See also Egmont, dream vision
Talma, Francois-Joseph, 196 Vogel, Christian Georg Karl, 24
technical bravado, 121; necessities, 116, Vulpius, Christiane, 209, 211
138-9; gaffes, 126
television, 5, 33, 253, 258, 261—2; compared Walser, Martin, 4-5
with video, 267 Walter, Friedrich, 29-30
text of Egmont Weimar
— adaptation of, 4 — archives, 27
— authority of, 4 - court, 6, 15,124, 189, 220; satire on, 224
- emendations to, 30 - court theatre, 192
— dramatic viability, 132 - director's book, 27, 29
- extratextual elements, 16-18, 94,146; - library.SeeAnna Amalia
annotations, 28, 32; annotations ig- - manuscript, 27-8, 30
nored, 32 — park, 200
- fixed, 17, 35 - theatre, 7, 18-19
- Goethe's original, 5, no, 122,132,140, - theatrefire,26
142, 243, 244, 247, 255, 258, 259-60, — stage, 93, 106
264 - style, 195,198
- multiple, 4,19 Weimarer-Ausgabe, 24,124
— performance, 3, 32 Wells, George A., 13—14
— as point of reference, 33 Wieland, Christoph Martin, 209
- primacy of, 18, 269 Wilkinson, Elisabeth, 9,12-13
— semiology, 17 Wilkinson, Elisabeth, 9,12-13
- See also performa Wolff, Amalie, 132,136,175,184
Thackeray, William Makepeace, 222—3 Wolff, Pius Alexander, 19,132,136,175,184,
Thater, Julius Casar, 170 191,193; Goethe's praise of, 194
Theaterwissenschaft, 123 woodcut, 158-9, 161
Thyret, Margot, 262 Wouvermans, Philipp, 158—9
Tischbein, Johann Heinrich Wilhelm, 205,
2O7, 221-2 Zadek, Peter, 229
Toepfer, C., 175 Zelter, Karl Friedrich, 132
Trifft, S., 208 Zischler, Hanns, 244-6

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David G. John - Images of Goethe Through Schiller's Egmont-Mcgill Queens University Press (1998)

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Images of Goethe

Analysing a forgotten, unpublished performance script of Friedrich Schiller's

DAVID G. JOHN is professor of German, University of Waterloo.

McGill-Queen's University Press

Legal deposit third quarter 1998

Printed in Canada on acid-free paper

McGill-Queen's University Press acknowledges the support of the Canada Council

Canadian Cataloguing in Publication Data

John, David G. (David Gethin), 1947-

This book was typeset by Typo Litho Composition Inc.

2 Egmont. Ein Trauerspiel in drey Aujziigen 36

4 Reflections of the Text in Performance 123

I wish to express first my gratitude to the Social Sciences and Humanities

I gratefully acknowledge the following for permission to publish the

Structure and Language

century absolutism and politics. Recently, Gonthier-Louis Fink's outstanding

: same vein, i.e., as recognizing the importance of extratextual, sensory ele-

lany scholars, theatre semioticians, performance analysts, sociologists, and an-

audience. Furthermore, it is through theatre's focus on concrete people that

Egmont, Mannheim Manuscript,

Egmont, Stadtisches Rei6-

- a handwritten copy of this annotated version by the copyist Wilhelm Schu-

- a handwritten copy of this copy, which presumably contained further correc-

- the so-called "Mannheimer Theatermanuskript," call number M372 in the

- a manuscript in Goethe's papers, now in the Weimar archives (designated

- finally, a manuscript located in the Stadt-und Universitatsbibliodiek, Frank-

As part of his appended materials, Borcherdt supplies a complete list of vari-

surveys the main ones in his introduction (14-16), referring us to Koster's

s: 3,13 ... undspannt die Armbrust

s: 3, 23 so schon lange hier

S: 5,16—17. <Order of speeches>

s: 5, 44—6, I das Pfotchen reichen und Friede machen

s: 6, II Die Regentin lebe!

s: 8, 30 Ordnung und Freiheit!

the fallibility of his enterprise, making appropriate reference to the uncertainties

THE MANNHEIM MANUSCRIPT

Verwandoi Verwandlung: a change in scene.

verwendoi verw: the speech indicated was probably to be moved elsewhere.

Zusatzor Zstz: the optional use of a speech or scene.

Egmont, Stadtisches Reifi-Museum Mannheim, Mannheim Manuscript M3/2,

Graf Egmont, Prinz von Gaure.

fetter, auf den Stufen, im BegriffdieArmbrustzu nehmen.

Jetter tritt herunter, Buyk hinauf.

Die im Hintergrund befindlichen Soldaten und Burger sind aufgestanden und

[8] SOEST. Vier Ringe? Es sey! {Vivat!}3

Einige Burger und Burgerweiber mit Wein

{Alle} ALLE. 8 [Soest.. .9} Ihre Majestat Wohl!10 Hoch!

ALLE.24 {Soest.} Sicherheit und Ruhe! Ordnung und [32] Gewissens-Freyheit!25

VANSEN. Gott grufi Euch Herren! Was neues?

Burger, Burgerweiber und Soldaten stehen truppeneise.

Soest et jetter. mischen sich in den Streit.

Weiber. schreyen darein.

Soldaten. stehen undgaffen.

[52]Andere. gehen gelassen aufundab.

ALLE BURGER. in Handgemenge zusammen Unsre Privilegien! Privilegien und

Vorige. Egmont, mit Begleitung.

ZIMMERMEISTER. Sie schlagen sich um ihre Privilegien.

[60] ZIMMERMEISTER. Ein gnadiger Herd Der achte Niederlander! Gar so

Zimmer bey Egmont

[65] EGMONT. Wie sieht's aus?

RICHARD. Ich bin bereit, und drey Bothen warten.

Egmont. Prinz von Oranien.