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THE LIBRARY
OF
THE UNIVERSITY
OF CALIFORNIA
LOS ANGELES
GIFT
THE Tt(UBlpETE[( OF pi^GI^ipl^E]\l
B'Y
Victor E. Nessler.
IJkifflJM
MANUFACTURERS OF
GRAND, UPRIGHT AND SQUARE
PIANOS.
^::SR
"'-iJ.'i.H II J
THESE INSTRUMENTS. MORE THAN FIFTY YEARS BEFORE THE PUBLIC, HAVE, BY THEIR EXCELLENCE, ATTAINED AN UNPURCHASED PRE-EMINENCE, WHICH ESTABLISHES THEM THE "UNEQUALLED" IN
TONE, TOUCH,
WORKMANSHIP AND DURABILITY.
Victoi^ E Je^^Ier
English Version of the German Libretto (by Bunge) and the
Poems, of
^^^vi^wvr
l/i(;tor"09^ef7effel,
upon whose metrical romance, "Der Trompeter von Sackingen," the operatic story is based, by
JOHN P JACKSON,
Author of " The Album of the Passio7t Play at Oberammergau,'" ''Lohengrin,
Blusically and Pictorially Illustrated,'" ''Illustrated Handbook
to ' The Ring of the Nibelung,"' <2fc., (2fc.
OfOL OE OOL OfiBAffiL CQ8 INIBB
DRAMATIS PERSONS.
— .►^^^t^s^- — - Iper6on0 of tbe preluDe.
WERNER KIRCHHOF, Stud. Jur., -.-... CONRADIN, Trooper, ----____ THE MAJOR DOMO of the Electress of the Palatinate, THE RECTOR MAGNIFICUS of Heidelberg University, - A Student. — Troopers and Recruiters. — Students. — Two Beadles-
Baritone^
- Baritone.
Tenor.
Bass.
-Cellarmen.
PLACE : — Heidelberg Castle. — Towards the End of the Thirty Years' War.
Ipersong ot tbc ipiece.
THE BARON OF SCHOENAU, ---.-.. Bass.
MARGARETHA, his Daughter, -----__ Soprano. COUNT OF WILDEN STEIN, -----___ Bass.
HIS WIFE {separated from him), the Baron's Cousin, - - Mezzo- Soprano.
DAMIAN, the Count's Son, from his second marriage, _ - _ Tenor.
WERNER KIRCHHOF, ----._.. Baritone.
CONRADIN, -------- - _ Baritone.
A Servant of the Baron. — A Messenger of the Count. — A Cellarman. — Four Heralds. Youths and Maidens. — Citizens of Sackingen and their wives. — Hauensiein Peasants. — People. — School-Children. — Dean and Chaplains. — Burgomaster and Councillors of Sack- ingen.— Knights of the Teutonic Order. — Princess-Abbess and Noble Ladies of the Con- vent.— Troopers. — Followers of the Count of Wildenstein. — The Landlady of the Inn- yclept " The Golden Button," in Sackingen. — Village Musicians of Hauenstein. PLACE :— Sackingen.— TIME .—After the Thirty Years' War: 1650.
Cbaracters ot tbe JSallet an5 tbe /iRag iprocession.
King May.
Princess May Blossom.
Prince Woodlord.
Two Officials.
Troopers,
Father Rhine.
The River Main.
The River Stein.
Rivers Lahn, Ahr and Nahe.
Vintners and Vintneresses.
Knights of Scharlachberg,
Johannisberg,
Assmanshduser,
Ruedesheim.
The Noble Ladies: —
Liebfrauenmilch,
Moselbluemchen,
Ahrbluethe.
The Dean of the Hochheim.
Markgraefler.
Marcobrunner.
Forster Traminer.
Steinberger Cabinet.
Children and Girls.
Eight Pages.
Townspeople, Country People.
Peasant Maidens.
Servants and Guests.
Messengers of Spring.
Goblins.
Shepherdesses.
Dragon-Flies, etc.
May Chafers.
The Story of the Opera and the English Version of the Libretto, entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1887^ by John P. Jackson, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C,
Music
LtbTilf
I* lU
50
of ThK^ (Dpc=^ A^^
I.
ROM Boezberg' s heights the Rhine once fondly drew me: — I felt a deep home-yearning stir within: — Towards the scenes whose every glory knew me: — To the good town of Sainted Fri- dolin. — As if in tny return rejoicing greatly It welcomed me in Auttcitm's warmth and glow; Its 3Iitister spires, that rose up nezv and stately. Were mirror din the rushing stream below: — High northward stretched, and bound- ing well the gaze, The Hozzen Forest, shimmering through the haze.
Q^'^.
©rave of tbc 1bero auD Iberolne,
The Gallic Tower, on Roman wall yet stable, The Convent, zvhere the Princess- Abbess pray' d; All seem to ktiow mc, yea, each roof and gable That oft my shallozu boat past lightly sped;
lie blanchino , A flowery laivn seems yet on me to smile:
And half concealed amid the chestnuts branching, The little Castle's slender-towered pile:
Glad greetings sciidto where it crow7is the ridge.
And then cross o'er the long wood- boarded bridge.
THE POET AND THE COMPOSER.
III.
My duty first to those good friends departed Who, in the church-yard, near the Rhine- stream rest: Full many have gone, luho with me, joyous- hearted, In the dear city shar''d in laugh and jest : Willi sadnes^i I approach the tombstone hoary. That Werner Kir chhof s name and ^scutcheon
shows: And tells of him and of his spouse the story. In words that sorrowing hearts' lament dis- close:— The twain whom Love had bound in bondage
dear. Were called awav within the self-same year. V. V. Sch.
What German is there who has ever been young, who has loved or been loved, who does not know Victor von Scheftel's ' ' Trompeter von Siik- kingen," with its charm- ing story of the loves of Young Werner and the fair Margaretha, their wooing on the Rhine, tlieir cruel separation, and their joyous Wiedersehcn in Rome ? It is now, as it has been for over a quarter of a century, the favorite of all classes ; in hut and palace it has de- lighted millions. Ex- cepting Schiller's poems and Goethe's "Faust," both of which are beyond the pale of copy-right protection, no volume of German poems has ever reached a sale of a quarter of a million cop- ies, as has been the case with the "Trumpeter." When it is remembered that a sale of five thou- sand copies of a book ot
poems is considered in Germany a sensational success, it will be seen what a vast influence Scheffel's work has had among Teutonic readers. But his fame did not rest entirely on his "Trumpeter." When he died it was found that of his principal works his romance "Ekkehard" had passed through ninety edi- tions, his "Gaudeamus" fifty, and the "Trum- peter" one hundred and forty. Of his other works— "Frau Aventiure," " Berg-Psalmen, " "Hugideo," "Juniperus," " Waldeinsamkeit," thirty-five editions had appeared, making alto- gether a hundred thousand copies. In the book-printing office of Adolf Bonz & Co., of Stuttgart, there is one steam press on which the works of no other author except Scheffel
have ever been printed. It is known as the "Scheffel Press."
But this does not exhaust the extent of his fame. Scores of his poems have been set to music, and his student, songs from "Gaude- amus" have been sung millions of times. " He is the singer of German Studententhum," says a biographer; "and of all the songs that are sung night after night in the Kneipes from Kiel to Gratz, from Strassburg to Dorpat and Czernowitz, fully one-half are the product of his pen .... From the blue Alsatian moun- tains, where the German sings his Strassburg Hymn, to the steppes of South Russia, where the Pfarrer in the German colonist villages sings the songs of his ' ' Gaudeamus " as a fond remembrance of his student days; in South and
North and on the other side of the great Atlan- tic, all know Scheffel's poems. And when he died all joined in the uni- versal sorrow. Young girls and fair women took down the "Trum- peter" from the shelf, to weep once more over the songs and farewell of Young Werner, and to laugh over the philo- sophical lamentations of the famous cat Hiddi- geigei. Many a man again took down the romance of "Ekkehard" and had a fresh enjoy- ment in the tragedy and humor of that incompar- able book. Students, with heart felt sorrow, sang the " Trauer-Sala- mander," and with weep- ing hearts but laughing lips, of the convulsing eventuality that happened in the Black Whale Inn at Ascalon, or of the famous lament of the Ichthyosaurus. Yes, his songs were the very sunniest sunshine." Von Scheffel died on the 9th of April, 1886. In August of that year he was expected to take part in the great Heidelberg University Festival. But the singer, Heidelberg's Liedermund, as he was called, who had praised the beauty of the old university city in his poems, whose songs the students had sung for over a quarter of a century, was not present In the midst of all his preparations to join in the glorification of his Alma Mater he was called away. Mr. Kreh- biehl, in a letter to the Tribune describing the celebration of the five hundredth anniversary of Heidelberg University, said: "Had Scheffel lived a few months longer he would have shared the honors of the Jubilee with the Crown Prince of Germany and the Grand Y)ukQ of Baden.
11
THE POET AND THE COMPOSER.
its joys to sorrow was present in his through the streets, up from the Neckar besides in the
and the ovation which would have been brought him by the thousands to whom he has vouch-safed such swelHngs of the heart as no other German writer of the century, would have been a thousand times as sincere and a hundred times more enthusiastic as that which greeted the representatives of royalty. But the old singer of the glories of Heidelberg and the Black Forest was dead, and, doubtless, many of his admirers and friends, like his confrere Felix Dahn, re- mained away from the festival because his absence would change for them. Yet Scheh'el songs, which resounded down from the castle and incessantly. He was present Jubilee Ode which he put into the hands of Vincenz Lachner for composition not long before he died, which, compared with some of the songs in his ' ' Gau- deamus " and the ''Trumpeter," especi- ally with the "Alt Hei- delberg, du feine," which ornamented a hundred house-fronts, was an indifferent pro- duction, though it had some of that eager, bounding joyousness which is so marked a characteristic of the poet's work."
The death of the poet created a profound im- pression wherever Ger- mans dwelt; especially upon the German col- ony in Rome, by whom he was warmly beloved and revered. The best of his poetic works had been produced among them, and even the "Trumpeter" had gained its poetic shape in Rome. A German writer describes the Italian haunts of the poet: "Some of Scheffel's best poetic works were produced in the little mountain village of Ole- vano, son-e forty odd miles from Rome, in the Sabine range. The poet lived for a long time at the Casa iialdi, a little inn more celebrated for the lack than for the quantity of its com- forts, but the peculiar situation of which, and its surrounding beauty of scenery, were no doubt elements that materially aided the in- spiration of the giftet poet. The lofty moun- tain peaks, rising back of the humble cottage, the wood of the Serpentara, now owned by the German Government as an heirloom for her ar- tists in Italy; the rocky pathways trodden by the sandaled feet of the lowly contadbii, who climb at night to their cloudland homes; and even the inmates of the Casa Baldi itself, despite their
l^ictor B. messier.
many short-comings as hosts — have all become, and are more so by his death, hallowed in Ger- man literature. It is the custom of the German artists in Rome, under the leadership of their ambassador, to make a pilgrimage annually to this locality, and spend a day in feasting and toasting in honor of the revered poet, who has sung songs of Italy that will live as long as the German language is spoken. On such occasions selections from his poems are always read, and never was the pilgrimage made without sending to the home of Scheffel, in Germany, a tele- gram that told him how warm were the hearts that gathered under the giant oaks, which his pen had not only invested with the halo of sentiment, but had alike saved from the wood- man's destructive axe. "The Trumpeter of
Sackingen " was writ- ten in one of the quaint arched rooms of the Hotel Pagano, on the Island of Capri, which has also become a mag- netic spot for this and other reasons to the German artist who vis- its Italy. The memory of the event is preserved in the image of the he- ro's cat " Hiddigeigei," which has been painted by some kindly knight of the brush on a lofty dormer window in a ste- reoscopic manner as re- lieved by the light from without."
Since Victor von Scheffel must be consi- dered the librettist of the present opera, in which several of his own songs are incorporated, a sketch of his life in so far as it relates to ' ' The Trumpeter of Sacking- en " will be of interest. Joseph Scheffel (the Victor he seems to have adopted; the Von he later gained in honor) was born in Carlsruhe on the i6th of February-, 1826, the son of a major in the service of the Grand Duke of Baden. He attended the Gym- nasium at his native city, and tliough he had a deep desire to become an artist, he gave way to the wishes of his father who wanted him to pre- pare himself for the service of his native state. Accordingly, in 1S43, he went to Munich, where, however, pictures interested him more than jurisprudence; then to Heidelberg, where con- vivial life was equally prejudicial to earnest study; and finally to Berlin, where he progressed so rapidly that in 1847 he was able to pass his examination of Heidelberg and to receive his diploma as doctor of laws. That his heart was not true to law was evident all the time; but he stuck to it as a duty nevertheless. In Heidel- berg he also studied Germanistic and the his-
ui
THE POET AND THE COMPOSER.
tory of Literature, especially ancient documents and parchments, the songs of medieval days be- ing his favorites. It was a study not much in vogue at the time. In the same year that Schef- fel completed his studies in Heidelberg, Gustav Freytag had to leave the University of Breslau, where he was privat-docent, because the Faculty would not give him the permission to deliver lectures on German Kulturgeschichte — saying that it was not a scientific study. It was in Heidelberg that Scheffel first revealed poetic talent. It is said that he was a great favorite with the students at the time, that no " pocula " was considered complete without him. Yet few of his "Gaudeamus" songs come from this period. He was inclined to be dreamy and sen- timental, and the famous " Es hat nicht sollen sein! " is a production of his student years.
After receiving his diploma Scheffel obtained an appointment as legal administrator at the little town of Sackingen on the Rhine, and fur- ther as secretary of the Baden high court of justice in Bruchsal. Of his residence at Sack- ingen he has told the most interesting stories himself. He was a dreamer, and though he tried conscientiously to do his duty as a well-ap- pointed official of the little duchy, his thoughts were far away, mostly in Italy, where he hoped to eventually complete his artistic studies. But he was able to dream even in Sackingen, though his dreamings did not take any very de- finite shape. He was mostly attracted to the ancient history of the little town. There were
two incidents or stories in Sackingen's history that deeply interested him. The first was the story of its founding by Fridolin the Traveller, or Saint Fridolin, whose memory has been cele- brated for centuries in Lorraine, Alsace, Ger- many and Switzerland. Fridolin was a native of Ireland, and Bruschius, a German writer, says he was the son of an Irish king. Having em- braced the priesthood he was seized with a de- sire for preaching and spreading the gospel in foreign parts. He therefore passed over to France, became a member of St. Hilary's mon- astery at Poietieres, was eventually elected abbot, and became the intimate friend and ad- viser of King Clovis. But his love of mission- ary work was still burning, he wandered about the eastern part of France, chiefly in Alsace and Lorraine, founded monasteries and churches in honor of St. Hilary, and finally determined to convert the Allemans on the Upper Rhine to Christianity. Scheffel has given a description
of the good old saint's journey from Ireland to the court of King Clovis, his work on the Rhine and on the island of Sackingen (printed on p. 9 of the libretto).
Saint Fridolin died on the island of Sack- ingen on the 6th of March. It is believed that the year of his death was A. D 725. The an- niversary of the Saint's death is still honored every year in the little city by a solemn proces- sion and religious ceremonies.
Another point of interest in Sackingen to Scheffel was a grave stone in the church-yard on which was inscribed the names of Francis Werner Kirchhofer and Maria Ursula de Schon- au, who, as it is writ on the memorial, died within a year of one another. In the musty archives of the little town Scheffel found the story relating^ to that head-stone — and from it arose at that time in his mind the picture of the lovely blonde Fraulein who so long before had
dwelt there in the old castle, and of the hand- some wandering Spiel- mann who had taken the young girl's heart by storm. Young Scheffel took more interest in reading about Saint Fri- dolin and Young Wer- ner and his love than in doling out law. The past and the future only were beautiful to him; the present had for him no charms, at least not when connected with jurisprudence. His father dying left him comparatively well-to- do in the world, and he determined to leave the law and justice and to devote himself thence- .~ ' - forth to Art — and for that
purpose to seek inspir- ation in Italy. In April, 1852, he left the Rhine for the land of his dream- ing, and there he remained until May, 1853, re- gretting much that he had lived so many years in vain. But even there the Present had no charms for him. In Italy the memories gather- ed in Germany of the Past crystallized and grew into delightful poetry.
The year that Scheffel spent in Italy, from April, 1S52, to May, 1853, was a memorable one. The artist and art historian Edward von Engerth, the director of the Belvedere at Vien- na, went to Italy in the fall of 1^51, on his wed- ding trip, with his beautiful young bride. In Rome they gathered around them all the Ger- man artists and celebrities in the city. In the following spring they went to Albano, the sum= mering place of many of the German art colony. Among the latter were the archaeologist Braun, the artist-poet HoUpein, the Berlin painter Schlegel, and among the ladies, Hofdame Frl. von Schulte, of Hanover; the beautiful Frau
IV
THE POET AND THE COMPOSER.
Malvine von Backhausen, of North Germany, and the artiste AmaUa Bensinger, of Swabia. In May, 1852, the circle received an addition in two new arrivals from Germany, the one a tall, straight, handsome man with full blonde beard and hair— he was the landscape painter Willers, of Oldenburg; the other, a young, medium- sized man with beardless face, fine, intelligent features — ^Joseph Scheffel, Willers' pupil. The latter, says Engerth, made an immediate and favorable impression upon everybody, though he was taciturn and reserved. This, however, came from his own regrets at beginning his artistic career so late in life. He was twenty- six and had only just commenced to draw from nature, and brush and palette were yet a long way ahead. ' ' We said one to the other, what a pity tliat such a remarkably talented man should dream only of being a
ful Margaretha had been gradually taking on life, and finally he packed up his sketches and, leaving Rome, sought seclusion on the rocky island of Capri. There, lodging in the inn kept by Don Pagano, a personage well known to all German artists at the time, Schef- fel wrote within six weeks his poem of "Der Trompeter von Sakkingen," with its beautiful pictures of medieval life and its quaint philoso- phy and its love story that have charmed two generations of Germans, and which, in operatic shape, is now presented to the American pub- lic. With the "Trompeter" in manuscript Schefiel left Capri and hastened to Sorrento, where his friend Paul Heyse was expecting him to hear the first reading of his completed poem.
The " Trompeter von Sakkingen " was pub- lished in Germany in the following autumn
IbeiDelbcrg at tbe present time.
landscape painter." This expression was evoked by his gift of poetic story-telling in the circle of his summer friends at Al- bano.
Engerth says: "When we sat at dinner or supper and he told us some story of his home, described any curious figure or event from his student days or his court-practice, we had to wonder how artistically he composed his pic- ture. Whenever he related anything which we had seen or experienced ourselves — a meeting with a beggar or a herdsman on the Campagna, or an excursion to the mountains, the most simple thing left his lips poetic, at- tractive, beautiful." On hearing one .such story Frau von Engerth exclaimed: "Why, lieber Scheffel, why waste your time with painting ? You ought to be a poet.'' In fact, Scheffel's heart had been long busy with poetic dreams: the figures of Young Werner and the beauti-
(1853). Strange to say, in view of its present popularity, it remained for some years almost unnoticed, and the critics who now hail it as one of the most charming poetic works of mod- ern German literature, treated it with severe coldness. It appeared at an unfortunate liter- ary era, and its quaint humor, its quainter phil- osophy, its refreshing naturalness only gradu- ally won their way. first through a small circle of friends, against the prevailing sad-senti- mental tendencies of Redwitz's "Amaranth." " Scheffel was," says a recent biographer, " the only true humorist in a period that had almost forgotten how to laugh. But gradually it won its way, edition after edition was called for, and a perfect cultus was carried on with it, in which German Jungfrauen took the role of priest- esses." Scheffel himself, in one of his many prefaces to new editions, has perhaps given the best picture of its reception: —
THE POET AND THE COMPOSER.
Five years have passed since thou, 0 Joyous song. Went f 07-th as book sent out to ??ieet thy fate;
As simple Trumpeter to charm the throng: Biit forttine smiled not on thee all too great;
The narrow guilds of cold intelligences Were not toward thee f'iendly itzclined;
Where form and numbers rule the warmer senses, Is no good place for thee or for thy kind: —
And from the heights of bellied crinoline
Shedded on thee has little favor been.
What suits one suits not all. On mountain side
Grow different Jlowers from those in the vale; But hei'e and there where German folk abide. Didst fnd a heart that bid the singer hail!
And seated at the rotind convivial table.
Exchanging stories and brave memories old,
To learn from many a witness J was able Of what more joy to poets gives than gold:~
The Bugler of whose ??iemory I had sung.
Was cherished in the heart of old and young.
* * * *
After leaving Italy Scheftel settled in Heidel- berg for a number of years, to prepare himself for a professorship. But an eye trouble pre- vented him from following his intentions. He then took more kindly to the convivial life of Heidelberg than in former years, and for a club
of good fellows, styled the
Engeren,
which.
$acftinc}en in 1650.
Where joyous brothers, to the gold-wine bidden Gave mirth in song thou too wert ofteii found;
In good old huntef-'s ga77ie-bags oft wert hidden. And landscape paititers sometimes had thee 'round:
A nd pastors, too, the ancient legettds say.
As forest prayer-book read thee oil the zuay.
By many who a fair young bride had married.
And tvith her journey' d in the zvorld alone, Wert thou as gift and pastime often carried —
For two can read thee quite as well as one. And Sackingen, the Forest City 7uorthy,
That was not all too pleaskd at the start, In time fotmd, too, a good affection for thee.
And, touched at last, just took thee to its heart: — And all in all, in good and evil ways. Hast in the world had perfect joyous days.
used to meet every Wednesday evening, to which men like Von Rockau, the publicist, and the historian Ludwig Hiiusser belonged, he wrote most of his student songs, in which he gave free reins to his quaint humor. Thest were published in 1868 under the title of "Gau- deamus," a few of which have been rendered into English by Hans Breitman But he did not neglect more serious work. From this period comes the romance "Ekkehard," the most im- portant work by the poet, the inspiration to which he found in Pertz' " Monumenta Ger- manise." Afterwards he made a second journey to Italy, lived then for a time in Munich, then as librarian of Prince Egon von Fiirstenberg in Donauchlingen until the Grand Duke of
Saxe-Weimar invited
him to sing
of the glory
VI
THE POET AND THE COMPOSER.
of the Wartburg, as he had done for Hohen- twiel in his "Ekkehard." Scheftel then went to Eisenach, studied the history of the Minne- singers and produced " Frau Aventiure, Songs from the Time of Heinrich von Ofterdingen." But the old inspiration for his work failed him in this, as later in "Juniperus," and his " Berg- psalmen," — hymns, descriptive of the Alps. Returning to South Germany, he lived thence- forth in Karlsruhe, and in summer at his villa, near Rudolfszell, on Lake Constance. In 1876 his fiftieth birthday was celebrated with great festivities, and the Grand Duke of Baden ele- vated him to the hereditary nobility. He wrote but little in his later years, but he sought enjoy- ment amid the brilliant circle of people, who had settled in the Baden capital. Among these were Von Werner, who was then studying painting, with Adolph Schroedter, his future
stadt. He learnt the elements of music in his home At fourteen he attended the Gymnasium at Strassburg, and after passing his baccalau- reate examination, devoted himself to theology. But he always had a decided taste for music; he took instruction in theory, and then com- posed pieces of religious character, among which were the 125th, 126th and 137th Psalm, and a grand mass for male voices, all to the great regret of his father. An accident gave lasting tendency to Nessler's musical studies and in 1864 he had to give up theology altogether. It came about in this way: Ness- ler's friend and fellow-theological student, Edmund Febrel, wrote an opera-text, entitled " Fleurette " (the first love of Henry IV), and he had composed the music to it. The opera was accepted for performance at the Strassburg City Theatre, and the names of the two young
SaclRingen in 1850.
father-in-law; Malvina Schroedter, who was dividing her time between poetry and flower- painting; Lessing, who had recovered from the shock, his brother-in-law, Adolph Schroedter, had inflicted in the Romantic School at Frank- furt in 1848; and Marien Crawford, who was then a student at the Polytechnik, then recovering from the effects of having slept in a room leaving the gas turned on. The Griifin Fleming, the eccentric grand- daughter of the eccentric Bet- tina von Arnim, acted as the go between 'twixt Court and Bohemia. Carlsruhe was a little Weimar in those days— a Weimar without a Gothe and Schiller, and Victor von Scheffel was its brightest literary light.
A few words about the composer, who has been able to make a successful opera out ot Scheffel's well-known poem. The composer is a born Alsatian, Victor Ernst Nessler, son of Pfarrherr Karl Ferdinand Nessler, and was born January 28, 1841, in Baldenheim near Schlett-
theologians were printed in large letters on the play-bills. The "evil-doers" were cited to appear before the President of the Directorium, and compelled on account of their ver>^ untheo- logical work, to resign from the theological faculty. "Fleurette" was performed for the first time on March 15, 1864, and achieved a brilliant success. The young composer then went to Leipsic, where he completed his mu- sical studies under the teaching of Bernsdorf and Hauptmann, and the advice of David, Mo- scheles and Reinecke. He first devoted his attention to the composition of choral works; he became leader of a number of Maenner- gesang-Societies in Leipsic and in 18S0 took the direction of the Leipsic Saengerbund, which embraces eight societies of singers. Of this he is still honorary conductor, though at present he resides at Strassburg. In 1868 he composed his romantic opera " Dornroschen's Braut- fahrt " (The Sleeping Beauty's Bridal Trip):
vu
THE STORY OF THE OPERA.
then followed two one-act operas entitled "Am Alexanderstag," and "The Night-Watchman," which were accepted by Laube for the Leipsic Opera House. In 1876 his opera " Irmingard " "was produced at Leipsic. In 1879 his " Rat- catcher of Hameln " achieved a great success and made the name of the composer renowned. Then he wrote "The Wild Huntsman," and last "The Bugler of Sackingen," one of the greatest successes of modern times on the German operatic stage. Schefifel had never the pleasure of seeing his hero in opera. He has placed on record the fact, however, that he saw him playing his brief hour on the dramatic stage. Had he seen him in Nessler's setting, he might perchance have given us still another
preface beyond that in which he tells how he had seen him pictured as the title of the weekly paper of Sackingen, and sinned against on the boards: —
Vignetted on the weekly paper' proudly He stands, and wisdom 'stead ofimisic blows. Nay. on the stage has often all too loudly As hero ranted — ask not how it goes. If in the tower, where for many ages, Below the castle walls the old one stood. Were frescoed all the Song's dear personages With gf eater skill than Fhidribus e' er could — In truth the artist' s hand could soon assziage The grief cans' gi (>y the ^itirier^ of the stage.
(TOb Storq of tfje Upera.
Nessler's opera follows in the main Schefifel's poetic story of "The Trumpeter of Sackingen," a short description of parts of which will assist to a more perfect appreciation of the work 01 composer and librettist.
The hero is Werner Kirchhof He is a hand- some young fellow who is expelled from Hei- delberg University for conduct unbecoming and singing, in a manner unbeseening, a song under the windows of the English Princess up at the castle. But for its medieval tone the second chapter of The " Trumpeter " would perhaps describe Scheffel's own life at the famous institution of learning at the Neckar. There Werner studied jurisprudence, read and lamented over Roman law, but failed to bring his mind earnestly down to work. Instead 01 studying, he could only see in the Corpus Juris a dark-haired beauty — "stern Eujacius' beautiful daughter who once upon a time read lectures from her father's catheder at Paris to the fortunate youth of Paris," smilmg out upon him from the musty pages. His in- dustry was without fruit : the Corpus Juris — a beautiful Elzevir edition, was placed for safe- keeping in the hands of Levi Ben Machol, who paid two doubloons for the favor, and young Werner became a rollicking, spur-clanking, duel-fighting, wine-drinking Bursche, who spent much of his time drinking and talking philosophy with Perkeo, the dwarf guardian 01 Heidelberg's great tun. Thus he tells to the Schwarzwald pastor the story of how he came to serenade the English Princess and get into serious trouble :
0 Pcrkeol Better surely Had it been if I had never
Lejit mine ear unto thy wisdom; — ' Twas a cold, bright winter -morniftg — In the dark and musty cellar, With the dwarf had held much converse Philosophic o' er the wirie-jug — But when tip, into the sunshine
1 stepp'dforth, the zvorld appear' d to
Me quite chattged arid strange and curious;
All around seemed rosy tinted; Thought I heard sweet angels singing; — O71 the castle terrace surely Saw a group of noble ladies, Iti their midst the gracious Princess, The Electress Leonora — Thither flew my saucy fancies; — Dazzled were my brain and senses; Taken wing my wit and wisdom; Languishing, towards the terrace Strode, to where she stood in glory. And began the franctic measure. That once on a time Elector Fred'rick sang, in love-sick fashion. To his bride, the English Princessl
He sang her the song : "As truest of vassals I kneel at thy feet," which is sung by the students in the first act of the opera. Young Werner accompanying on his bugle. Because of this impertinence and insult to majesty, Werner was rudely wakened from his dreams. The staid old beadle summoned him before the Rector, who wrathfully announced his sen- tence, which was expulsion from the university and banishment from the city. So he set out, a light-hearted cavalier, and rode away down the valley of the Neckar, with only his bugle, with which he hoped to win fortune and ad- ventures, as companion. It is then that Scheffel introduces his readers to the young rider pass- ing through the snow-storm in the Black Forest, and finally finds him shelter in the house of a Schwarzwald Pfarrherr, to whom he relates his adventures. The Pfarrherr, after listening to him, giving him wise counsel and a good meal, advices him to proceed next morning to Sack- ingen on the Rhine, a place where he is likely to find service, the more so as the day is the f^te day of St. Fridoline, the patron of young people: —
'^' Laughingly the aged Pfarrherr Rais'd his glass and, laiighing, spake: — Thank you7' stars that thus it erided: For IJznow a different story.
vni
THE STORY OF THE OPERA.
All about a wild young fellow And a very fair Margravine And a7i ugly lookitig gallows. Good advice is hard to give, and Such a case has not been noted. What 071 earth to say to such as Sitig and play to noble ladies. Legal wisdom take to pawnshops. And with bugle blowiyig hope to Find the future fair before them! i'ut when human wits' s exhajisted, Aid is often sent from heave?!. — Down there in the forest tow/i of Sackittgett they have a kindly Patron saint for yotinger people — Good Saint Fridoline— To-morrow Is the worthy mati' s great Jete-day: He hath never left unaided Those who asked his help in need; Turn thee then to Fridoline!
In the operatic version of the story Werner carouses with the students, and with them is banished from the University. All then join a body of troopers, who are passing through the city on their way south, and thus reach Sackingen. The pe- riod in which the action of the prelude falls is given as towards the close of the Thirty Years War. Heidel- berg Castle was still in its glory, though it had suf- fered injury during the long struggles from i6i8to 1648. It owed much of its beauty to Frederick V., who be- came Prince Elector in 1614. Light-hearted, with a prosperous land and con- tented people, he was uni- ted in marriage with Elisa- beth, the beautiful daughter of James I. of England and grand-daughter of Mary, Queen of Scots. For her he built a portion of the castle, called the English Bau, of which only the shell now remains. He trans- formed the old fortifica- tions into beautiful gar- dens, about which De Cans wrote in ecstatic praise, and Fonquieres, the great Flemish painter, made a picture of it, which was en- graved by Merian in 1620. Frederick was deeply in love with his wife, and there still stands at the en- trance to the gardens the triumphal arch, with the affectionate dedication : '^Fredericus V. Elizabethcc
IPerkco.
Coningi Cariss A. C. MDCXV;' testifying to the Elector's devotion. But she was am- bitious, and it was at her instance that Fre- derick accepted the crown of Bohemia, because the historians say, "she was perpetually re- peating to him that she had rather starve with a crown on her head, than live in luxury under an Elector's hat."
.So it came to pass on November 4, 1619, that Frederick rode forth from Heidelberg, to take the proferred crown. But he never returned to the castle of his fathers. His kingly reign was brief. On the 8th of November, 1620, the Bo- hemians, who had entrenched themselves on the White Mountains, were attacked and routed by the united Imperial and Bavarian force, under the Duke of Bavaria and Count Tilly, and Frederick and his wife fled for safety to Holland As he had only reigned one winter, he was derisively called the Winter King. When peace returned, the Palatinate, "the garden of Germany," had been turn- ed into a howling waste. In 1649, Carl Ludwig, son of the Winter King and nephew of the beheaded English King, returned to Heidelberg, after a life- time of banishment. The castle was so desolated that, it is said, he could hardly find decent lodging within its once stately walls. The University, a Pro- testant Institution, which during the war had sunk completel}^ crippled, was now revived, Spinoza and others being invited to fill the long vacant professor- ships. It is in this period that the operatic story falls. It was not till 1688, that Louis XIV. issued his fam- ous order ' ^Brulez la Pala- tinat. ' ' Perkeo, the dwarf, who was indirectly the cause of Werner's leaving Heidelberg, lived in the be- ginning of the eighteenth century, and was Karl Phi- lipp's court fool He was a true hero in the vineyard of the lord and was accus- tomed to get away with fif- teen bottles of wine daily. So much for history — as prelude to the opera.
Act I. — Young Wer- ner's sojourn in Sackingen proves very fortunate for him. While watching the people coming in boats on tiie Rhine, to take part on the Saint's fete day, he is able to protect Margare- tha (called Maria in the
IX
THE STORY OF THE OPERA,
opera) and his aunt, the Countess, from the rudeness of the Hauenstein peasants, who are in a mood for rebeUion against the Baron von Schoenau. The act closes with the annual St. Fridolin's procession, on the 6th of March. In Scheffel's poem Young Werner arrives at Sackingen just in time to witness the fete, and to see the lovely Marga- retha walking in de- mure loveliness in the ranks of the white clad maidens of the fresh lily, and to fall in love with her. Of her love- liness Werner dreamt all day and at night he wandered along the banks of the Rhine, in dreaming mood, like as ages before another bugler "who the day of judgment's thrilling trumpet-call outblasted through the lazy roll of ages," had done, on the banks of the Arno:
IbiODlaeioei.
And so, too, when many thousand. Thousand years shall have been counted. Others , filled ivith love's exulting Grandeur , shall the same path follow! And zvhen on the Rhine the last lone Relic of the race Germanic Shall have fotind his 7-est e' erlastittg. Then shall others folloiv after Dreaming these same dreams enchanting. Talking in sweet words together, Though in new and stranger language. Know ye zvho this coming folk is? Almond-eyed, with noses fatten d. They whose sires to-day are dwelling On the Aral and the Irtisch, Dreaming as they drink their koumiss. Of their future power and glory ?
Youthful love, 0 pearl tnost precious. Balsam sweet for Jutman sorrow. Of life's ship the saving anchor, Ever-green in dreary deserts. — How can I, a weary mortal, Sing in new and worthy strains of All thy blest terrestrial glories ? Filled with meekness and with thanks I Can but think of thy szveet magic; Of thy halo, that with goldeji Glory shines upon the jjiurky Mists of youth, revealing clearly. Sharply, life spread out before us: — Gentle longings, proud ambitions. Earnest thought and bold endeavor. All we oive to Love's inspiring. Happy they, then, in whose bosom Love has held tritimphant entry.
Young Werner,
wandering along the
river, is addressed by Father Rhine, who advises him, after a quaint lecture, to get into a boat and he will carry him nearer the object of Werner follows the river god's
his dreaming
advice and lets the boat drift down the stream until he reaches a sand-bank opposite the castle. There he lands, and seeing a lighted window in the .Schloss, begins to serenade the unknown beauty he had seen in the procession. Down be- low old Father Rhine listens to the melodious strains; listen too, pike and salmon trout and
water nymph, and the northwind bears the mu- sic conscientiously up to the lordly castle. Within the room, the old Baron himself is seated, drink- ing his night- cap, smok- ing, but bemoaning the gout, a legacy from his war days, that troubled him at times seriously. (This is the first scene, slightly changed, at the opening of the second act of the opera.) At his feet lies stretched the famous cat Hiddi- geigei, whose quaint phi- losophical reflections are a charming feature of SchefTel's poem. Then enters Margaretha, a delightful creature of Scheffel's poetic fancy:
In the room ca77ie, stepping lightly. Then the Baron's charming daughter Margaretha, and her father Nodded, smiling, as she entered : She had changed her robe of velvet For a dress of snowy whiteness. In her long blonde locks was fasten' d Saucily the hooded head-dress. And house-motherly beneath it Glanc'd out free her eyes of azztre; From her girdle hutig a weighty Bunch of keys and leathern pocket. Symbols of the house's mistress : And she kiss'd the Bar-on' s brow and Spake : ^'' Dear father, be not angry. That I left you all so lonely — In the Cloister long the gracious Princess-Abbess kept me chatting. Told me many charming stories. Spake quite learnedly of age and Of the teeth of time : and then the Knight-Co7nmander — he of Beuggert, Spake f till sweet , as if he' d bought his Words doiun at the sugar-bake7-s — / ivas glad 2uhetz I could leave thei7t. Waitijtg your coi7imand, dear father, A 771 p-repared to read a chapter From otir dear old Minttesinger Theue7 da7tk : I knozu you're fondet Of adve7i tu7-es a7id of curious IIu7tti7ig stories then the sweetly Se7i ti/n net a I pastoral poetry Of our tnoder7t versifiers. But, dear father, why then always Must you smoke this vile and w? etc/id Pois' 710US weed you call tobacco ? I'm quite frighte7ied when I see you ' Mid your smoky clouds all hidden.
THE STORY OF THE OPERA.
Ibd&clbcrg Caetle in 1620.
Trcm the Centtiry Magazine-')
THE STORY OF THE OPERA.
Like the Eggberg in the rain-mist. And Fm sorry for the gilded Picture frafues upon the panels. And the handsome snow-white curtains. Near you not their soft remonstrance — How the blasts from your big pipe will Make them pale and grey and rusty? It may be a land most wondrous. This Afnerica — discovered By the worthy Spanish seaman j And I, too, have much enjoyment In the gaudy plumaged parrots. And the putple strings of coral; Dream at times about the lofty Palm-tree forests, gorgeous flowers. Cocoa-nuts and bad wild monkeys : Though I sometimes wish it still were Undiscovered in the ocean, yust because of this obnoxious Smoke-weed that it sent to plagtie us : Willingly wotild I forgive the Alan who takes far more thait need f til From his cup: in case of need wotild Bring myself to look with friendly Eyes upon a nose of ruby — But tobacco-smoking — never ! "
The conversation between the two is dehght- ful. The Baron then tells Margaretha how he
Castle $cbonaii.
first learned to smoke; how as a prisoner at Vincennes he and his fellow captives had ac- quired the habit and had attained such perfec- tion in it, that the King himself came to "see the smoking Vesuviuses" ; beautiful court ladies too, and among them the proud and beauti- ful Leanor Montfort de Plessys; and how upon the clouds of smoke that he puffed, Cupid had sat enthroned and merrily shot out his arrows, and with such excellent aim that to the proud beauty "the German bear appeared finer and nobler than all the great lions of Paris." He goes on further to say how wlien he was re- leased from prison he found himself more cap- tive than before, and how he remained in the
bondage of Leanor Montfort de Plessys' charms until lie wedded her and brought her home to his castle on the Rhine. Then Rlargaretha, smiling amid her tears, kneels before him and asks his forgiveness, saying that in future not a word more will she ever speak of the wicked- ness of smoking. It is then that the Baron is suddenly startled by hearing the sound of Wer- ner's bugling down below on the Rhine. It reminds him of the blasts blown by bugler Rass- mann, who had fallen by his side in his last campaign. Next morning he sends out his faithful Anton to search for the midnight bugler. Werner is eventually found, taken to the castle, where the Baron succeeds in inducing him to stay with him and to be his castle bugler, and to lead his little band of musicians. And so Young Werner finds himself installed a member of the Baron's household. In the opera Young Wer- ner is introduced in a somewhat difterent way. The Baron is speaking of the dangers that threaten the castle in case it should be attacked by the rebellious peasants, and how he regrets that his faithful Rassmann is no longer alive to summon assistance from the troopers irt the city in case of attack. It is then that Marga- retha tells him about Young Werner, who is also a bugler and the end is that he is induced to accept the post as Rassmann's successor at the castle, and as well to assist the fair Margaretha in her music. The result is evident; but in the opening scene of the act the Baron has received a letter from an old comrade in arms, the Count of Wildenstein. who proposes to visit the Rhine with his son Damian, whom he would like to see wedded to the Baron's fair daughter, Mar- garetha.
Act II.
In the shady castle-gat dett Stand some grand old spreading chestnuts. And a garden-house invitin.:. ' Tis a snus; and still retreat this — All around a screen of shade trees, Down belozv the water murmurs.
The second act of the opera embraces some lovely scenes, which are suggested rather than taken from the original poem. Several of the songs are Scheffel's, however. The story of Young Werner's life at the baronial castle is contained in three chapters of the original poem, in delightful pictures. The seventh chapter is devoted to a description of a picnic at the moun- tain lake, which the Baron has arranged in cele- bration of May Day. The great song of this scene: '' Es kommt ein wimdersc hotter Knab\'^ is given by the Chorus in the opera, in the last act, as "The Coming of Prince May," followed by ballet and dance. The next chapter is de- voted to a concert, arranged by Margaretha, assisted by Werner, in honor of the Baron's birth-day, and held in the little garden-house, that has been fresco painted by F'ludribus. The next chapter, entitled "Learning and Loving," is a delicious description of how Mar- garetha finds Werner's bugle in the summer "house, and how she is discovered by the young
xu
THE STORY OF THE OPERA.
musician while she is endeavoring to evoke tones from the gilded instrument ; further how Werner teaches her diligently, and composes songs in her honor. This is given as the first scene in the second act of the opera, a guitar, however, taking the place of the trumpet. In the poem this incident is preceded by the story of the uprising of the Hauenstein peasants (trans- ferred to the third act of the opera), who attack the castle ; of Werner's bravery in leading a sortie, and driving back the hordes, he himself
SS^T.
Tlbe (SarDen Ibouec.
being severely wounded; and Margaretha's grief thereat. Then follows another charming chapter, describing Margaretha's care of the wounded man, — how while he was yet uncon- scious, she bent over him to see if he still breathed, how her lips rested sweetly upon his, and how after this, the first kiss, she fled away in trepidation at her boldness; how later Wer- ner recovered, and walking in the garden, meets Margaretha, and - love is triumphant.
JTiss of love, thou first and sweetest. Thee rememb'ritig J am Jilted tuith yoy and sadness — -joy that once the Gods permitted tne to kiss it. Sadness that 'tis kiss' d already. * * * Well I know that Kissing is far more than language — ' Tis the silent chant of love — ■ And when zvords suffice no longer, It heseemeth well the singer That he bid his lips be seal'd — Therefore let our song in silence Turn once more towards the garden: — There tcpon the terrace steps the Worthy house-cat Hiddigeigei Suiid himself and looked astonish'd At his mistress as she hasten d To Young Werner and embraced him, And their lips met and she kiss'd him: Thus philosophizing spake he: — Searching in the feline heart have Weighed and thought upon and fathom' d Many a difficult problem — But there' s one remains unsettled. Still unsolved, uncomprehended — Why do people kiss each other ?
' Tis not hatred, for they bite not, ' Tis not hunger, for they eat not, Nor can it be blind a7id aimless Ignorance, for they are always Smart and sane enough in actions.
Why, then ? ' Tis in vain I pottder.
Why do people kiss each other?
Why, again, do most the younger ? And these mostly in the Springtime ? On this point unsolved, unsettled, I will meditate more closely On the gable-roof to-tnorrow.
* *
*
"Margaretha, sweetest treasure," Spake Young Werner, ''thou hast given Back to me my life: hast given it Back enrich' d tvith thy sweet loving 1 " " Thine forever I so love speaketh: Thou and thou, and heart and heart, and Lip to lip, that is love's language. So Sir Werner, give another Kiss to me I" That was their wooing. When the moon appears above us. Soon there follow stars uniittmber'd — So when kiss the first is given Folloiv quickly hosts of others. But how jnany there were robb'd and Then paid back my song says nothing — Poetry and statistics stand just Now on very wretched footing.
Then comes the denouncement. In the poem Werner asks for the hand of his Margaretha. But the old Baron, hurt and surprised, does not take the singer's request kindly, and he is banished from the castle. Then begins his wanderings anew, that lead him this time to Rome. In the opera he returns to his post, among the troopers in the city. The Baron is grieved, however, for the handsome young fellow. " It hurts me too," he exclaims, "to refuse him. Why was not the brave man called Damian of Wildenstein." In the opera the Count of Wildenstein arrives with Damian. But the latter fails to make an impression upon Mar- garetha's heart. Werner leaves, after singing Scheffel's celebrated song of farewell : ' ' BehvtV dich Gott, es ivdr' zu schdn gewesen.'''
Now Farewell! 0, hour of sadness! Who thee first of all invented ? Surely 'tzvas some wicked ??iortal Dzvelling near the Polar Ocean; Freezing ly the icy blizzard Bleiv about his tiose: his shagg-', jealous spouse his life made zveary. And the whale's delicious blubber Never well to him had tasted: O'er his head he drew a yellow Sea-dog's skin, and zuith his sturdy Staff 171 fur-glov'd kafid he beckoned To his Ylaleyka, arid rudely Shouted to her as he vanish' d: "Fare thee well! I'm going to leave thee! "..,.. In the valley near the castle Werner stay'd and with his bugle Sent a last farewell, in greeting Up to her he'd left behind him:
xm
THE STORY OF THE OPERA.
Know ye not the song the swan sings When Jie feels that death is neafing,
And sivims out upojt the waters ?
And the roses, and the tender Water-lilies hear his sorrow:
"Beauteous world, and must I leave thee?
Beauteous world, and must I die ? "
Act III— In the last act of the opera the Hauenstein peasants attack the Baron's castle Damian proves to be an arrant coward, while Werner, at the head of the troopers, does wonders in bravery and saves the castle from pillage. Fortunately, too, it is found out that the young bugler has a birthmark upon his arm, and he turns out to be the first born son
of the old Count of Wildenstein, who had been stolen from his home as a boy by a roving band of gypsies. There is then of course nothing to prevent his marriage with Margaretha. In the poem Young Werner goes to Rome, where he becomes the leader of the capella in St Peter's. Fair Margaretha, after Werner had left the Rhine, faded day by day until at last the Baron consented to allow the Princess-Abbess to take her with her to Rome, where she was to go on a. pilgrimage. It is there, while present at one of the ceremonial functions of the church, that the IViedersehcn occurs. Werner is ennobled by Pope Innocent XL, the twain are wedded and they return to the Rhine, where they live after- wards joyous and contented. J. F.J.
XIV
T^be trumpeter of gael^in^en.
{^tx ^xmnpkx ban BntlxlmxQm.)
-^0— <$=^^II^^:^»-HJ^-
Vorsjiiet* — l^retitde*
©Ift© (iouft ^arcj of Jfeii^effeerg (ia^^ffe 6^ RigRt.
C/ior der Studenten.
Bit IbciDelberg, Du teine, 2)u StaDt an :iEbren relcb, :am IReckar uuD am IRbelne IReln' aiiDre fiommt Dlr gleicb.
II.
StaDt froblicbcr (3e0eUcn, Bn melsbeit scbwer unD Mein, IRlar 3iebn Des Stromes Mellen, :fiSlauauslein blitsen Dreiiu
III.
IllnO fiommt aus linDcm SuDen Der aFrUblliiQ Uber's 3LauD, So webt er C)(r aus :fl3lutbcn Bin fcicbimmernJ) JSrautgewanJ).
IV.
aucb m(r stebst &u gescbriebcn 5n'0 1ber3 sleicb elner JSraut, 3E6 klingt wic jungcs ILleben Detn IHame mtr so traut.
Chor der Studenten. V.
"ClnD stecbcn micb Die Dornen, TUnD wirJ) mir's Drauss 3u kabl, <5eb' Icb Dem IRoss Die Spocnen ■QlnD veit' in's mechattbai !
Chorus of Students.
I.
©ID IbeiDelberg, tbou jFalrest, Mitb fame anD bonors crovvn'D
'.flftiD rivals tbou tbe rarest, C;be IRbine or IHecftar 'rounD
II.
Ibome tbou of jovial fellows, Jn wisDom ricb, auD wine ;
1bow clear tbg IRecftar's billows ! Ibow brigbt tbB maiDens' egen !
Werner. III.
anD wben tbe Spring, in splenDor, Comes, all tbe lanO to bless ;
"^^iZ flowers tbcir best surrender, Zq mafte tb^ briDal Dress.
IV.
Brt in mi5 bosom bolDen,
a briDe, for ever near, C^bg name in accents golDen,
IRings ever on mg ear.
Chorus of Students.
V.
BnD wben all rounD is cbeerless, 2lnD storms mg patb assail,
5 spur m^ borse, anD, fearless, TRiDe Down tbe IFlecUar's vale.
THE TRUMPETER OF SACKINGEN.
Chorus of Troopers.
Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!
Conradin.
Right well the fellows rattle, With never a steed in stall; No blades have they for battle; They're goosequill-swordsmen all!
Chorus of Troopers. Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!
Conradin.
But look — a handsome cavalier! From head to foot a gallant, sheer! Wears spursand sword, all spick and span, From top to toe a soldier-man!
You're condemn'd to sit and ponder O'er your studies dull down yonder, While we out to din of battle, Through the world on horseback rattle.
Chorus of Troopers.
So, comrades, on to the rollicking reel. In doublet of leather or corset of steel; On whinneying steed, the sword in the
hand. So speeds the bold rider away through
the land!
A Student.
Listen, how their tongues are wagging.
Sure they talk too much; But if braves were made of bragging
Then were these troopers such!
(A folding door is opened in the upper gallery and the Major-domo appears on the balcony.)
Major-domo.
Silence — silence, my good masters! Why all this nocturnal noise, Why this rumpus too infernal, Revelling and riot eternal !
Chorus of Students.
Ah, in place of worse disaster Comes the house and cellar-master! Midnight must forsooth be near. Ha! ha! ha!
Major-domo.
My good sirrahs, don't you hear! What unheard of rude behaviour!
My sweet mistress begs you'll save your Hideous noise for times of wassail, And now get you from the castle.
Chorus of Students.
All hail! The Electress dear! She'd rejoice if we should here — Up in song our voices raise, And her many virtues praise!
Some of the Students.
Yes, in truth, the thought is bright, Serenade — in the silent night, — Just the thing for highborn ladies.
Other Students.
Such a plan right eas'ly made is, But who here shall dare the duty, Sing to her of love and beauty ?
All the Students.
Brother Werner! — by him best Were our words in tone express'd; Blows the flute and plays bass-viol, But bugles best, there's no denial.
Werner.
On the bugle!— So it be!
Hand the instrument to me!
In the gypsy band that brought me
Up, a player to bugle taught me.
And he taught me pretty well!
(To Conradin.) Give me thy war-horn, comrade old,
Thou man of gallant lighting; The moonbeams dance upon its gold.
The players lips inviting!
Conradin (gives him the bugle).
For such a handsome youth, 'Tis at your service, sooth! Though for the higher needs of art
My war-horn ne'er was bought; It won for me my general's heart
On many a field well-fought. Fresh for reveille its echoes were, And every evening, late, for her. So let its tones now bear along, The plaint of Pfalzcount Friedrich's
song!
(Werner begins, after a short prelude, under the Electress's windows.)
THE TRUMPETER OF SACKINGEN.
Chor der Reiter (mit Spott).
Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!
Conradin.
Worauf wollt ihr denn reiten ? Habt ja kein Ross im Stall. Habt ja kein Schwert zum Streiten, Seid Federfuchser all'
Chor der Reiter.
Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!
Conradin,
Da schaut den schmucken Reiter an: Vom Kopf zum Fuss ein ganzer Mann, Tragt Sporn und Hieber nicht zum
Staat, Mit Herz und Hand ist er Soldat. Ihr mlisst sitzen, ihr miisst schwitzen, Im Colleg die Ohren spitzen, Wahrend wir zu Kampf und Siegen Hoch zu Ross die Welt durchfliegen.
Chor der Reiter.
Wohlauf, Kameraden, zum frohlichen
Streit,
Im ledernen Warns wie im eisernen
Kleid,
Auf wieherndem Rosse, das Schwert
in der Hand,
So flieget der Reiter durch's weite Land.
Ein Student.
Ueberall macht sich am breit'sten Wilder Reiterbrauch; War' der Prahler am gescheidsten, War's der Reiter auch!
(Eine Fliigelthur in der oberen Gallerie offnet sich, und der Haushofmeister der Kurfiirstin er- scheint.)
Haushofmeister (angstlich).
Aber — aber, meine Herren, Welche nachtlich arge Storung! Just als gab' es hier Emporung, Oder hollische Verschworung!
Chor der Studenten.
In Ermang'lung and'rer Geister, Kommt der Haus- und Kellermeister! Mitternacht muss nahe sein. Ha! ha! ha!
Ha ushoffJieister.
Meine Herren, haltet ein! Welche rohen Burschensitten!
Die Frau Kurfiirstin lasst bitten, Ihren Schlummer nicht zu storen Und sich aus dem Schloss zu scheeren.
Chor der Studenten.
Hurrah, die Frau Kurfiirstin!
Sicher war's nach ihrem Sinn,
Wenn wir ihrer noch gedachten
Und ihr gleich ein Standchen briichten.
Eitiige Studenten.
Ja, wahrhaftig, klug gedacht! Sang und Klang bei stiller Nacht, Der entziickt ja stets die Fraixen.
Andere Stude?iten.
Doch wer wird sich wohl getrauen, Ihre Durchlauchtigsten Gnaden Kiihnlich anzuserenaden ?
Alle Studenten.
Bruder Werner, du allein Kannst den Worten Tone leih'n — Spielst die Gambe, blast die Flote Und zumal erst die Trompete
Werner.
Die Trompete? — Ja, fiirwahr: Reicht mir 'ne Trompete dar! Hab' in den Zigeunerhorden, D'rin ich aufgezogen worden, Das Trompeten gut gelernt.
(Zu Conradin.)
Gieb mir dein Kriegshorn, Spielgesell, Du alter, wack'rer Degen, — Im Mondstrahl blitzt es zauberhell Und lockend mir entgegen.
Conradin (giebt ihm seine Trompete).
Solch' einem schmucken Herrn Hilft jeder Reiter gern! Zwar ist wohl fiir die hohe Kunst Mein Kriegshorn nicht gemacht, Doch hat es mir des Feldherrn Guns In mancher Schlacht gebracht. Frisch zur Reveille schallt' es friih,
Und erst am Abend spat fiir sie
So ton' avich nun zum Lied sein Klang, Das einstmal Pfalzgraf Friedrich sang.
(Werner praludirt auf der Trompete unter dem ^enster der Kurfiirstin.)
THE TRUMPETER OF SACKINGEN.
Chorus of Students and Troopers.
I.
as truest of vassals, 5 ftnecl at tbg feet,
pfal3countess, fattest of fair ! CommanJ), anD witb Ikatser an5 Empire
^'D fisbt. Command, anD for tbec, ^es for tbee, 3'5
Oeligbt tibe worlD into tatters to tear Ij
II.
yx> fetcb tbee from beaven, tbe sun anD
tbe moon, pfal3C0untess, fairest of fair I 5'D fetcb Down tbe glittering stars witbout
count, Xihe frogs on tbe point of m^ swotD tbeg
sboulD mount, BnD tbou sboulD'st gase on tbem tbere !
III.
CommanD, anD 3^'D tben be tbs own court
fool, Ipf al3countcs3, fairest of fair ! lea, fool ?r am now, witbout tbs commanD, 'BiW'^ "^xvlzXi bg tbe br{gbl=tlasbina sunligbt
3 stauD, les, Da3eD b^ tb^ eges' brigbt pair!
The Major-domo.
Good are priests for ghosts and demons, Water helps with cats and tremens; But airainst such bands rubific, Here on earth there's no specific. Slumber would my mistress gracious, Never heard such row audacious! I wont stay here more to wheedle, I'll the Rector fetch and beadle.
The Students (mocking).
Beadle bum! Beadle bum! If you call him, he will come! Yes, beadles they are brainy ,
And wide awake, And sun, or shine or rainy, Their captures make.
They never eat.
They never drink,
And when on duty,
Never think; Yes, beadles they are brainy
And wide awake.
The Alajor-domo.
Never heard such conduct sliocking! Here, our staid officials mocking! Get you hence, or else beware, Here is not the kneipe, where You can hold your orgies sickly. Go! — I'll fetch the Rector quickly!
(Werner 'ays a tune upon his bugle.)
Conradin.
Hey! hey! young gallant, that was good! You played that like a court m.usician! Your veins have surely soldier blood, You're fitted for some great position. A noble steed is all you lack, To fit you to lead the grim attack. Here is my hand, give me your own — Come, drink a bumper, comrade gay, And join our ranks as soldier to-day!
Werner.
Nay, nay! Nay, nay! I understand! Recruiters' drums are heard in the land, You, too, might be a recruiter bold.
Conradi?i. For recruiting officer I'm — too old!
Werner.
A trooper's blade I'd gladly hold; But, alas, my good old foster-pater. Who with his worthy name baptized me, And all through life has idolized me, And here in our good Alma Mater As doctor of laws is a worthy Professor, Would fain, that I should be his succes- sor.
Co7iradin,
That a noble work — I'm sure is! Well, so take thy Corpus Juris, Seat thee on the bench and gnaw the Bcmes and crumbs, the Roman lawyers Left you from their banquet table.
Werner.
Roman law, of all law fountain! Nightmare on me, like a mountain!
Through the wide world I would wander, Where the moonbeams kiss the dew; Where the gods their best gifts squander,
And where Love is
strong and true.
THE TRUMPETER OF SACKINGEN.
Chor der Studenten uiid Reiter.
I.
^cb ??n(ce vor Bucb als gctreuer IJasall, Iptalsgrafln, scbonstc &er jFvauen !
J3efeblct, so strelt' icb mit Ikaiser unC»
IRefcb,
asefeblet, go will icb fiir Bucb, fur Bucb, 5)ie IClelt in 3Fet3en 3erbaueiu
II.
Jcb bor Bucb vom Ibimmel Die Sonn* unD
J)eu /llbonD, ptalsgrafin, scbonste Der 3f rauen ! 5cb bor Bucb Me Sterne sonOer 2;abl, Mie 3fro6cbleln sollt 3^br Die funKelnDen
air ©esplesst am 2)egen erecbauen.
III.
:fi3eteblet, so vverD* icb fiir Eucb 3um flarr,
Ipfalsgrafint scbonste Der 3f rauen ! 5a, Iflarre bin icb scbon sonOer asefebl, 2)as Sonn'licbt blenDet micb all3ubell Won Buren 3wo Bugen, Den blauen.
Haushofmeister.
Gegen Geister hilft der Pater, Wasser gegen Katz' und Kater: Wenn wir doch ein Mittel kennten Gegen Reiter und Studenten. Die Frau Kurfiirstin will schlafen. Der Senat soil euch bestrafen; — Geht ihr nicht, so Schick ich schnell Noch zu Rector und Pedell.
Die Studenten (spottend).
Zum Pedell ? Hei duida ? Nennst du ihn, gleicla ist er da, Pedelle sind der Segen
Von jeder Zeit, Im Sonnenschein und Regen
Zum Fang bereit.
Sie essen nicht,
Sie trinken nicht,
Vergessen nicht
Des Dienstes Pflicht: Pedelle sind der Segen
Von jeder Zeit.
Haushofmeister.
Seht mir solche freche Rotten Selbst die Obrigkeit verspotten. Sucht das Weite! macht euch fort! Hier ist wahrlich nicht der Ort, Noch bei Nacht zu commerciren; — Will den Rector gleich citiren!
Conradin.
Ei, ei, Jungbiirschlein Wohlgemuth,
Du blast ja wie ein Hoftrompeter,
In dir steckt echtes Reiterblut,
Du bist zu gut fiir Tint' und Feder.
Ein schnelles Ross nur, glaube mir,
Fehlet zum echten Reiter dir,
Hier meine Hand und schlage frohlich
ein, Trink' aus dem Humpen, Kamerad, Auf unsere Rotte, dann bist du Soidat.
Werner.
Lasst ab! lasst ab! es ist mir bekannt, Die Werbetrommel geht durch's Land; — Ihr konntet selbst ja Werber sein.
Conradin. Ich, Werbeoffizier ? — O nein!
Werner.
Ein Reitersmann mocht' ich wohl sein;
Allein mein alter Pflegevater,
Der mich von den Zigeunern kaufte
Und dann auf seinen Namen taufte
Und hier an uns'rer alma mater
In beiden Rechten ist Professor,
Der mcichte gern, ich wUrd' Assessor.
Conradin.
Ei, Respect vor der Carriere, Nun, so nimm dein Corpus juris, Setz' dich auf die Bank und hore, Wie vom Herrn Professor wird Altes rom'sches Recht docirt.
Werner.
Romisches Recht, diegrosste der Plagen! Ach, ich hab' es langst im Magen! —
Mochte in die Feme schweifen, Wo der Mond die Nebel kiisst, Kiihn die weite Welt durchstreifen. Bis ein holdes Lieb mich griisst.
THE TRUMPETER OF SACKING EN.
On my reckless course would hold me, Struggling aye with fate malign,
Till two eyes of sunshine told me: Rest thee, here is rapture thine!
O vision of rapture! O dreams full of bliss! O lips that shall capture My heart with a kiss!
To youth aye uncloses The blossoms that thrill; Let rapture and roses My life henceforth fill!
Conradin.
O dreaming* of rapture, A life full of bliss; Yes lips can e'en capture The heart with a kiss!
To youth aye uncloses The blossoms that thrill; Despair not, for roses The young heart shall fill!
Grasp your bugle, do your duty: Take a dark-eyed gypsy beauty, Or if not, a maid with golden Hair and other charms untolden; Then on horseback with us go, With us aye the bugle blow!
Werner.
What ? Your bugler ? 'Tis truly meant ? And in your good regiment. You'll take me as a trooper bold ?
Conradift. So, here's to you, and take the gold!
Chorus of Troopers.
So the bargain firmly hold! Shalt to no man subject be. But a trooper, strong and free!
Werner. Nay, wont be bounden thus to you!
Conradin.
Well then, I must my duty do:
Up — and seize him — he's our booty 1
Werner. Comrades — come !
The Troopers.
For life and duty!
Cofiradin. Hey, he fights like any trooper!
The Students.
Comrades — strike !
(The Rector and two Beadles interfere).
The Rector. Stay your hands! No fighting!
The Major-domo.
See you not, Magnificus ? Here they make this dreadful fuss; Here your academic youngsters Scoff at order, fight with bungsters! Example make of all the number, They broke up the Princess' slumber!
Rector Magnificus.
Example make of all the number, The Electress can not slumber. Bad enough is bugle blowing. Worse, this riot nocturnal, knowing, You are on forbidden spot; Therefore be the graceless lot Relegirt and exmittirt, Excernirt and excludirt!
Some of the Stude7its. Relegirt and exmittirt?
Others. Excernirt and excludirt ?
Rector. All, yes, all be relegirt!
Werner. Benches, debts and all be quitted!
Chorus of Students.
Relegirt ? — Alack a day! Heidelberg — we must away! Heidelberg, thou home of Muses, Lo thy penal code's a shame: Rights alas, to us refuses, Which thy nightingales may claim!
THE TRUMPETER OF SACKING EN,
Mocht' auf muth'gem Rosse jagen, Kiimpfen kiihn mit dem Geschick, Bis zwei liebe Augen sagen: Ruhe aus, hier winkt dein Gliick!
O Wonnegedanken,
O Traume voll Lust,
Ihr schlingt euch wie Ranken
Um meine Brust!
Brich, jugendlich Wagen, Mit frischem Schein, Wie rosiges Tagen Ill's Leben herein!
Conradin.
Das nenn' ich Gedanken Voll Lebenslust! O, lass' sie nicht wanken In deiner Brust.
Die Jugend muss wagen, Muss muthig sein — Nicht griibeln, nicht zagen, Dem Gliicke sich weih'n.
Darum greif nach der Trompete, Nimm ein schwarzgelocktes Miidchen; Heisst sie Marthe oder Grete— Wenn sie nur die Schonst' im Stadt-
chen; Zieh' zu Ross landaus, landein, Kannst bei uns Trompeter sein.
Werner.
Wie? Trompeter? — Potz Element!
Und in eurem Regiment ?
Ei, das war', wie ich's gewollt.
Conradin.
So stoss' an und nimm dies Gold!
Chor der Reiter.
Ja, stoss' an und nimm das Gold, Dann ist's so, wie du's gewollt! Bist dann Keinem unterthan, Bist ein freier Reitersmann.
Werner.
Nein, damit fangt ihr mich nicht.
Conradin.
Nun, so kenn' ich meine Pflicht: Auf, ergreift mir den, Soldaten!
Werner.
Burschen, 'raus!
Die Reiter.
D'rauf, Kameraden!
Conradin. Ei, der kann's ja wie ein Reiter!
Die Studenten. Burschen, d'rauf!
(Der Rector magnificus tritt mit Pedellen dazwi- schen.)
Rector magnificus.
Haltet ein! nicht weiter!
Haushofmeister.
Seht Ihr es, Magnificenz ?
Klar wird's euch zur Evidenz:
Eure akadem'sche Jugend
Ehrt nicht Ruh', noch Biirgertugend; —
Exemplarisch miisst Ihr strafen
Ihre Durchlaucht kann nicht schlafen!
Der Rector mag7iificus.
Exemplarisch muss ich strafen — Ihre Durchlaucht kann nicht schlafen! Schlimm ist das Trompetenblasen, Schlimm das Larmen und das Rasen Hier bei Nacht im hohen Schloss; Darum sei der ganze Tross Relegirt und exmittirt, Excernirt und excludirt.
Einige Studenten, Relegirt und exmittirt ?
Andere. Excernirt und excludirt ?
Rector. AUe — Alle relegirt!
Werner. Relegirt von Bank und Schulden ?
Siudentenchor.
Relegirt ? O Schreckenswort! Heidelberg, wir miissen, fort!
INIusenstadt, dir muss ich klagen, Was dein Strafgesetzbuch spricht: Nachtigallen diirfen schlagen, Doch Studenten durfen's nicht.
THE TRUMPETER OF SACKINGEN.
Werner. Lord Rector Magnificus, Wrong it is to use vis thus; Prisoners we will never be, We'll be troopers, frank and freel
Chorus of Students.
Prisoners we will never be, We'll be troopers, brave and free!
(The Rector Magnificus, the Major-domo and Beadles leave.)
Wei-ner.
Ho! gallant trooper! where's your gold? The devil with pens, ink and paper may
hump it! Your earnest here! — I'm a trooper bold, And glory awaits when you hear my
trumpet!
AIL
Oh, comrades, on to the rollicking reel. In doublet of leather, or corset of steel; On whinneying steed, the sword in the
hand, So rides the bold trooper away through
the land!
Where's courage, there's strength, and
where strength, there's might;
The thicker the foe and the hotter the
fight; The hotter the fight, and the sooner it's
done; Then on: there's many more days to be
won!
(They march away, Werner blowing the bugle, passing under the window of the Electress.)
END OF THE PRELUDE.
THE TRUMPETER OF SACKWGEN.
|
Werner. |
Alle. |
|
Herr Rector magnificus, |
Wohlauf, Kameraden, zum frolilichen |
|
Bringt dem Career unsern Gruss: |
Streit, |
|
Nimmer sperrt Ihr uns mehr ein, |
Im ledernen Wams und im eisernen |
|
Wollen freie Reiter sein! |
Kleid, |
|
Auf wieherndem Rosse, das Schwert |
|
|
Chor der Studenten. |
1 in der Hand, |
|
Nimmer sperrt Ihr uns mehr ein, |
So fiieget der Reiter durch's weite Land. |
|
Wollen freie Reiter sein! |
Wo Muth, da ist Kraft, und wo Kraft, |
|
(Rector magnificus mit dem Haushofmeister und |
da ist Macht, |
|
den Pedellen ab.) |
Je dichter der Feind, desto heisser die |
|
Schlacht; |
|
|
Werner. |
Je heisser die Schlacht, desto kiihler 's |
|
Ja, freie Reiter! Nun wohlan! |
Ouartier: |
|
Zum Henker mit Tinte und Feder— |
Stets vorwarts weht lustig des Reiters |
|
Das Handgeld her! — Bin Reitersmann |
Panier. |
|
Und wohlbestallter Kriegstrompeter. |
(Abmarsch.) |
ENDE DES VORSPIELS.
5
ACT L
8ttint J"rii)ofiRe'8 Daq.
©pea pface before t^e (sfturcft o^ ^1". iJric^ofiae af ^^'^.^''^g®'^*
FIRST SCENE.
Chorus and Peasant Dance.
Young Hans swings his Liesa, and Liesa
her Hans, Hurrah — and hurrah — they join in the
dance ; — How merry the fiddle, how deep drones
the bass ; They trip it so lightly, each lad with his
lass! Hurrah!
Some Old Men.
All too early you've begun! In the evening, every one Could to Fridolini's glory Dance away till he grows hoary!
Some Young Sackingers.
O Fridoline, saint-patron won
By all young people worthy, We sing thy praise, o Erin's son,
And for thy grace implore thee; We praise thee in the glad spring-tide, When world and heart are open wide. And flowers their heads up raise, —
A thousand times we praise
Thee, sainted Fridoline!
Conradin. O, sainted Fridoline!
Some of the Young Girls (teasing him).
What makes the ancient trooper sigh — For love long since bid him good-bye.
Conradin.
0 Fridolini holy,
Thy servant I am wholly; O why dost lend thy glory To young ones only ? — Hoary
1 am, yet not of stone!
The Young Girls.
Yes, yes, that's quite well known!
Yet, wise is he
Who clear can see When comes his time to rest a wee.
Conradin.
And that I call pure insolence! You young ones mock at my expense! Think you the worthy magistrate Put me in power for show and state ?
O no, but that I should Watch o'er you always for your good!
The Young Girls (laughing).
Hey, sure it must a burden be. Since age is not from folly free!
Conradin.
Hey, come to me, sweet sassie, You red-cheeked Schwarzwald lassie, And give a hearty kiss, — O sweet one, grant me this !
Chorus of Haueiistein Peasants.
What does the wrinkled grayhead want ? Thinks he can younger men supplant!
Conradin.
And though my heart is somewhat worn, The girls need treat me not with scorn.
ERSTER AKT.
Sttnfit driOofiiVs^Sao.
lltfl
anivi-wa^yt.
<^<
ERSTE SCENE.
C/ior und Bauerntanz.
Der Hans schwingt die Liese, die Liese
den Hans, Juchheirassasa, die dreh'n sich beim
Tanz; — Hell tonet die Fiedel, und tief brummt
der Bass, Wie hebt das die Fiisse, wie lustig klingt
das! Juchhe!
Einige dltere Manner.
Was fangt ihr so friih schon an ? Kann doch Abends Jedermann Zu St. Fridolini Ehren Noch genug den Tanzsaal kehren.
Chor der fungefi Sdkktnger.
O, Fridoline, Schutzpatron
Fiir alle jungen Leute,
Gegriisst sei uns, du Nordlandssohn,
Dein schoner Festtag heute —
Gegrusst im ersten Friihlingslicht,
Wo Welt und Herz die Rinde bricht
Und Alles bliiht und spriesst.
Sei tausendmal gegriisst,
O, heil'ger Fridoline!
Conradin. O, heil'ger Fridoline!
Einige junge Mddcher. (neckend zu ihm).
Was seufzt Er, alter Reiter, denn, Als ob ihm Lieb' im Herzen brenn' ?
Conradin.
O, heil'ger Fridoline, Dem ich so gerne diene: Warum gilt all dein Waken Den Jungen nur? — Wir Alten Sind doch auch nicht von Stein!
Die jungen Mddchen.
Ja, ja, das mag wohl sein!
Doch weise ist
Wer nicht vergisst,
Wann fiir ihn Zeit zur Ruhe ist.
Conradin,
Das nenn* ich mir doch Uebermuth! Respekt vor mir, du junge Brut! Glaubt ihr, der hohe Magistrat Hat mich hierher gesetzt zum Staat ? — O nein, dass ich verstandnissvoll Euch Alle iiberwachen soil!
Die jujigen Mddchen (iachend).
Ei, wahrlich eine schwere Pflicht; Denn Alter schiitzt vor Thorheit nicht.
Conradin,
Drum komm mal her, mein Kiithchen, Rothwangig Schwarzwaldmadchen, Und gieb mir einen Schmatz^ Du siisser Herzensschatz!
Chor der Hauensteiner Bauer n.
Was fiillt dem alten Graukopf ein ? — Liisst er gleich das Charmiren sein!
Conradin,
Ward bei der Liebe wettergrau: Die Weiber kenn' ich ganz genau —
THE TRUMPETER OF SACKINGEN.
Chorus.
For Hans swings his Liesa, and Liesa
her Hans, etc.
The Peasants.
Nay that is sure a sin and shame, When soldier men with peasants claim That they in rank are just the same.
Conradin.
Oh, we are the warriors! And you are the carriers!
The Peasants.
Your work is like our Baron's there, — His bailiffs go from fair to fair, And not a day, this land within, But what he scrapes the taxes in! Let our soil be free from toll!
Conradin,
Nay, how you peasants rave: — The peasant's but his slave, Whom he from overcoming pride Must like a father ward, and chide !
The Peasants.
That's just like servile warmen's talk, Who always with the nobles stalk; — But you'll find: — With lords entangled. With the lords you'll all be strangled !
Conradin.
I pray you, do not quite forget, There's many a sturdy warman yet, Who'd love to have the gentle task To give the peasants all they ask!
The Peasants.
Foolhardy trooper, pray take care. The peasant's cudgel does not spare!
SECOND SCENE.
(Werner appears.)
Werner.
I pray, be calm, friend Conradin! Let peace prevail to Fridolin — Why brawl on such a day, and fight ?
Conradin.
Whom see I ? Werner? — Wiiat delightt You came just in the nick o'time, Unsheath your sword! — and in then
chime!
Werner.
Nay, hold thee! From all rows abstain! Rejoice that we have met again.
Conradin. You're just in time to see the fun.
Werner.
I see, good friend! From every way The stream oi pilgrims, bright and gay.
Conradin.
Saint Fridolini's day of glory — The patron saint of younger people.
Werner.
And I myself am not yet old,
With heart still whole, of courage bold;
I pray the saint to me be good!
And see, there on the Rhine's clear flood,
A gallant fleet of boats.
Conradin.
'Tis fair!
Werner. And whom bears yonder bark ?
Conradin.
A pair Of truly very diff'rent kind.
Werner.
Of Dawn and Dusk, they me remind — One clad in mourning's dark array. The other young, and sweet as day — Tell me, who is the vision bright — Just like a dream of spring's delight ?
Conradin.
The Baron's daughter she — Escorted by her aunt, the Abbess.
Werner.
I never dreamt of such entrancing
beauty!
THE TRUMPETER OF SACKING EN.
Chor.
Der Hans schwingt die Liese, die Liese
u. s. w.
Die Bauern.
Das ist doch eine Slind' und Schand'! Soldatenstand und Bauernstand, Die passen nimmer zu einand.
Cotiradin,
Ja, wir sind auch der Wehrstand, Und ihr doch nur der Niihrstand!
Die Bauern.
INIacht's auch wie unser Freiherr dort, Der Vogte schickt von Ort zu Ort Und alle Tage weiss ein Fest, An dem er Steuern sammeln lasst. Unser Land sei steuerfrei!
Conradin.
Der Freiherr hat ganz Recht: Der Bauer ist sein Knecht, TiQw er vor Stolz und Ueberfluss Stets vaterlich behtiten muss.
Die Bauern.
Das ist so recht des Kriegsvolks Art, Das stets sich um den Adel schaart; Doch bald heisst's: " Mitgegangen, Darum auch mitgehangen."
Conradiii.
Habt ihr's auf s Kriegsvolk abgesehn ? Hier seht ihr einen Reiter stehn, Der Trutz dem Bauernvolke beut Und solch Gesindel nimmer scheut.
Die Bauern.
Verweg'ner Reiter, wehr' dich gut: Der Bauernkniittel farbt mit Blut!
ZWEITE SCENE.
Werner zu den Vorigen. Werner.
Gemach, gemach, Freund Conradin! Musst du selbst bei Sanct Fridolin Zum Raufen deine Klinge ziehn ?
Conradin.
Was seh' ich ? Werner ? Welche Freud' \ Du kommst mir just zur rechten Zeit: Die Klinge 'raus! Hilf mir beim Streit!
Werner.
O nicht doch! Lass die Leute gehn, Und f reue dich, dass wir uns wiedersehn.
Conradin. Kommst just zum Fest zur rechten Zeit.
Werner.
Das seh' ich, Freund ! — Auf jedem Pfad Der Strom der frommen Waller naht.
Conradin.
Sanct Fridolini Fest ist heute,
Des Schutzpatrons der jungen Leute.
Werner.
Ich bin ja auch ein junges Blut
Mit frischem Sinn und keckem Muth:
Der Heil'ge magmirgnadig sein!
Viel bunte Nachen wiegt der Rhein —
Ei, wie das flaggt und weht!
Conradin.
Nicht wahr ?
Werner. Und wen triigt jener dort ?
Conradin.
Ein Paar Von wahrlich ganz verschied'ner Art.
Wertier.
Wie sich mit Nacht der Morgen paart,
Schmiegt sich an's dunkle Trauerkleid
Der Andern eine junge Maid.
Sag an, wer ist das holde Bild,
Das wie ein Frlihlingstraum so mild?
Conradin.
Das ist des Freiherrn Tochterlein Mit ihrer gestrengen Frau Base.
Werner. Nie ahnt' ich solcher Schonheit Wonne!
THE TRUMPETER OF SACKINGEN.
THIRD SCENE.
Countess, Margaretha, Boatmen. — The Former. Finally St. Fridoline's Procession.
T^e Boatmen. Make room, ye peasants!
The Feasants.
And for whom ? Peasants here have rights, if any, More than you or just as many; Here to spite you all we'll stay! Let see who'll drive us now away ?
Werner.
I! — Off, ye rascals! Do you dare ?
Full soon I'll better manners teach you!
The Peasants.
Wait now, pretty player, wait! Learning's just what peasants hate — But they'll learn what stuff you're made
of.
Werner (to Margaretha).
Do not fear! — Let them beware! Trust yourself to my good care!
Margaretha.
Thanks, good sir! For such brave duty; Great the service you have done!
Werner.
(Thanks from so much grace and beauty; Sweet reward that I have won!) Yet if you would give me pleasure. Gracious one, beyond all measure, — — Give me. one forget-me-not From the wreath upon your breast!
Margaretha.
Can my thanks be so expressed — Right willingly!
(She gives him a forget-me-not, which he places
on his hat. Werner makes a gesture bidding the
peasants stand back. Margaretha gazes at him
with evident interest.)
The Peasants.
O look you — see ! With the Baron's daughter he, Walks about so proud and prim — What can she e'er be to him 1
The Countess (to Conradin).
Too disgusting!-Plebeian folk !-But can You say who is yon handsome man, Of such distinguished bearing, Who serv'd us by his daring!
Conradi?i.
His name is Werner, noble dame. Kirchhof was aye the good man's name Who found him 'mong a gypsy brood, And later for his father stood.
Cou?itess.
What ? With the gypsies ? Not a trace Has he in feature of their race! My son would just his age have been, And like him too in form and mien, Had he not been by those forsaken Hordes from us, an infant, taken.
Conradin.
He would have made more show and state. Than does our modest soldier mate. Who sooth's a bugler most industrious.
Countess (pointing to her arm).
My very image call'd was he —
E'en to this birthmark that you see —
But he's a bugler, — unillustrious!
Margaretha!
Countess.
Werner.
Margaretha ! On earth the fairest flower, — Her name the sweetest song!
Countess (to Margaretha).
O come! Why stay we here so long?
Margaretha.
Pray do not be impatient, dearest! Well, let us to the church proceed And from the saint his blessing plead.
Chorus.
O sainted Fridoline, To thee our voice we raise: For field, and fruit and flowers. Send sun and shine and showers,
Be thine the praise!
8
THE TRUMPETER OF SACKINGEN.
DRITTE SCENE.
Grafin, Maria, Schiffsleute. Die Vorigen. Zu- letzt der Fridolinsfestzug.
Die Schiffsleute. Macht Platz, ihr Bauern!
Die Bauern,
Ei, wozu ? Hier hat der Bauer so viel Rechte, Und mehr noch, als des Freiherrn
Knechte. Wir werden euch zum Trotze bleiben! Lasst sehn! wer will uns hier vertreiben?
Werner.
Ich! — Weg, ihr Leute! Treibt ihr's so ? Ich will euch bess're Sitten lehren!
Die Bauern.
Wart' nur, junger Spielmann, wart': Lernen ist nicht Bauernart; — Wollen die dich kennen lehren!
Werner (zu Maria).
Fiirchtet nichts, ich biete Trutz, Und vertraut euch meinem Schutz!
Maria.
Nehmet Dank! Ein braver Reiter, Der bedrohte Frauen schiitzt!
Wer?ier (fiir sich).
Ha, wie siiss der Strahl der Freude Jetzt aus ihren Augen blitzt !
(laut.) Dankt mir nicht, mein holdes Friiulein! That nicht mehr als meine Pflicht; — Wollt ihr aber mich beglilcken, Unaussprechlich mich entziicken, Schenkt mir ein Vergissmeinnicht Aus dem Strausse, der euch schmiickt.
Maria.
Wenn das Bliimchen euch begliickt — Von Herzen gern!
Die Bauern.
Seht doch den Herrn!
Wie er mit dem Schlossfriiulein
Thut so artig und so fein
Will der ein Trompeter sein ?
Die Grafin (zu Conradin).
Es ist emporend - dieses Volk ! - Sagt an, Wer aber ist der junge Mann Von ritterlichem Wesen, Der unser Hort gewesen !
Conradin.
Er nennt sich Werner, hohe Dame; — Kirchhofer war des Mannes Name, Der eiast ihn bei Zigeunern fand Und spliter dann nach sich benannt.
Grafin.
Wie ? bei Zigeunern ? Offenbar
War er doch nicht von ihrem Stamm! —
Mein Sohn wiir' nun wohl audi so alt
Und von so lieblicher Gestalt,
War' er von solchen wilden Horden
Als Kind uns nicht gestohlen worden.
Conradin.
Der machte sicher wohl mehr Staat
Als dieser schlichte Kamerad,
Der sonst ein Spielmann ohne Tadel.
Grafin (auf ihren Arm deutend).
Es war ja ganz mein Ebenbild —
Bis auf dies Mai am Arm mein Bild
Und der ein Spielmann, nicht von Adel!
Maria!
Grafin.
Werner.
O, Maria! Im Himmel und auf Erden Des schdnsten Namens Klang!
Grafin (zu Maria).
O komm! Was weilst du hier so lang?
Maria.
Wollt' nur nicht ungeduldig werden! Kommt, lasst uns in die Kirche geh'n Und uns vom Heil'gen Gliick erfleh'n!
Chor.
O, heil'ger Fridoline,
Sei uns gebenedeit! Schenk' unser'n Fluren Segen Und Sonnenschein und Regen
Zur rechten Zeit.
THE TRUMPETER OF SACKINGEK
Conradin.
O sainted Ftidoline! What damage thou hast wrought, A highborn damsel truly — And a gay young bugler newly —
It hadn't ought !
Chorus.
O sainted Fridoline ! To thee our woes we bring,
And comfort from thee borrow; And if in joy or sorrow. Thy praises sing.
Wei'iier.
O fairest Margaretha!
Thy charms henceforth I'll sing!
By they eyes' sunlight captur'd
I stand before thee raptur'd
By Love and Spring !
(The procession moves towards the church.)
Cf)e fouu&tiig of Sttcftingen.
By Victor von Scheffel.
Leave thy vain lametttings, mother; — ■Celtic blood drives me to seek jiiy Labor in far distant country. In my dreams I've of tot gazed on Foreign land and foreign tnoittitaitis, 'Mid a stream a bright green islatid — Beautiful as our fair Erin — Thither points the Master's finger, Thitlier goes thy Fridolin. * * *
From the Jura's heights descejided Fridolin, then wandered onward^ Up the Rhine, rejoicing in the Youthful river's rush and clamor. Eve7iing 'twas, and many a weary League the pious man had waiidered. When he saw how that the stream in Tivo broad channels flowed, divided. Past a green, inviting islatid. {Like a sack it lay upon the River's surface, and the peasants Dwelling near, whose similes are Not at all times deftly chosen, Gave the isle the fiame Saccoiiium.) Evening 'twas, the larks were sifiging, In the stream the fish sprang swiftly, And the heart of Fridolin was 3lade with gladness overflowing. On his knees he sank in prayer — For he recognized the island That in dreams had been revealed him, And he thajiked the Lord above. * * *
Scarce a year had passed, the Sabbath Feast of Palms it was, and from the Alountains all around, and valleys. Came the yillemanian peasants. And the children, smiting, brought th Aged man the firstling flowers — And they placed them as a symbol Of their love before his dwelling.
From his hut emerged the pious Fridolin, in priestly raiment. And he led the goodly host of These converted to the rivet-' s Bank, and in the rustling waters Gave them baptism in the najne of Father, Son and Holy Ghost. * * * And that very day he bravely Laid, in prayer, the good fomidation Of the cloister a?id the city — Attd his work progressed and flourish' d,
Round about, in every valley. Honor' d was his name attd holy.
Once, indeed, when he returned to Paris, to the court of Clovis, At his right the monarch placed him. And in solemn gift he gave him All the island, atid nmch land as Bounty for the church a?id cloister. Yea, he was a man most holy — And to day as patron saint he Holds the highest place of honor; On the Rhine, and in the mountains. To this time the peasatit's first born ^oy is christcfied Fridolini,
Saint Jfrtboline's ^roc^ssion.
Warm,ly shone the sun of March on Folk and tow7i of Fridolini : Softly from the Minster sounded Solcm organ tones, as IVertier Rode befieath the ancient gateway. Hastening, first he sought good stabling For his steed : the7i turn'd his footstep Up towards the grey stone cloister. At whose doors, with head uncover' d. Stood, the while the fair procession Passed in ratik and file before him.
In the dreadful days of warfare,
Iti the days oftieed, the casket
Holding all the sacred relics
Of Saint Fridoline were guarded
Well in Laufenburg' s great fortress;
Often had the townsfolk sorely
Missed their ever-blessing presence.
Then: and now when peace reign' d sweetly
O'er the land, t/iey all endeavor' d
Piously, with newer zeal to
Hold the Saint in greater honor, —
Opening the long procession.
Came a troop of lovely children,^
Glad of heart, with faces beaumig;
But whene'er they play' d and frolick'd.
Came the grey haired, earnest teacher,
CJiiding them for their behavior:
Still! No laughter! little people.
Have good care : such ivanton prattle
Makes our Fridolini atigiy :
THE TRUMPETER OF SACKINGEN.
Conradin.
O, heil'ger Fridoline, Was hast du angericht't! Ein Friiulein den Trompeter — Das sieht doch wohl ein Jeder: Das geht doch nicht!
Chor. O, heil'ger Fridoline, Du Schutz der Christenheit,
Gieb Liebe unsern Herzen Und sei in Lust und Schmerzen Gebenedeit!
Werner. Maria, o Maria, Du wundersame Maid, Aus deines Auges Sonne Lacht nun erst mir die Wonne Der FrLihlingszeit.
(Der Zwischen-Vorhang fallt.)
hm\\ efdDofiiie's JTroccssioii.
By Victor von Scheffel.
He' s a Saitti tnost stern and worthy. And in heaveit will all remember.
Twelve fair youths then bore the coffin. Richly dec/I'd with gold and silver: This contahied the saintly relics. Bore it on — all singing softly: Thou, who dwellst in Heaven above us. Look in grace upan our city. Keep it in thy care for ever —
Fridolifii ! Fridolini ! Give us always thy protectioji, Fro-tn all dangers aye preserve us. War and pestilence ivardfrom us — Fridolini ! T'ridolini /
Follow' d then the worthy dean, And the chaplains, taper-bearhig : Came the portly burgomaster ; And the wisdom' d city fathers, And the other dignitaries — Bailiff and the city steward. Syndic, notary and proctor, Afid the rugged forest-ranger, {He had co}ne from pure decorutn. For. with chicrches and processions And such things he did not stand on Genial footing, and his prayers Liked to say best in the forest). Theji i?i gloomy Spanish nia?itle. On which shone the white-cross emblem,. Came the members of the a7icient Order of the Ktiights Teuto7iic. Then the dark-clad, earnest-visaged Noble ladies from the cloister ; Foremost, near the sky-blue banner Walked the aged Princess- Abbess, Aftd she thought : Oh Fridolini, Art a Saitit, most dear arid preciotis. But one thing thou canst not bring us Back — the time of youth, the golden. Sweet it was some fifty years back. When the cheeks like roses blossomed, Atid by our youthful gloivhtg glances Many a noble knight held captive. Long ejwjigh have L do7ie penance Ln it all: and hope ifi truth that All our sins may be forgiven. V/rinkles noiu my face have furrow' d. Sunk the cheeks are ; lips are wither' d. And my teeth have gone for ever.
Following the noble ladies
Came the wives of worthy burghers,
Matrons closed up this division. * * *
And as meadow flowers blossom
Sweetly 'mid the barren stubble,
After thefn a host of charming
Maidens, clad in while and festal
Raiment, folloiued : mafty a burgher.
Staid and solemn, zuatch'd them passing
In their beauty, and he murmui-' d :
" Ware thee well their witching gla7ices, —
Such fair host is quite as dang'rous
As a motmted Swedish squadron."
In advance was borne Madonna's
Statue ; it was clad in heavy
Gold-embroidered, pmple raiment,
That in thanks, because the dreadful
War was etided, they had given as
Votive offerittg , with their prayers.
As the fourth in this divisioft
Walk'd a blonde and slejider maiden,
Iti her hair a bunch of violets ;
O'er its gold a snow white veil fell.
Hiding half her lovely features
Like a winter' s frost that glistens
On the early springtime rosebud.
Scarcely lifting up her glances
From the grotind, she -bass' d the portal
Where Young Wa-ner stood ; — he sazv her;-
Was it p'rhcips the sun's bright gleaming.
Meet his eyes so sorely blended? —
Or the blonde young viatden's beauty?
Many other maids pass' d by him, But he saw them not — his gaze still Lingered on the fourth one only : Gazed atid gazed, and when the people Disappear' d around the corner. Gazed yet on, as if he still could See the fourth iii the procession. " That man's got it! " says the proverb Thereabouts of that condition, When Love's magic holds one spellbound, ' Tis not man that holds Love captive ; No — 'tis Love, that has possession. Guard thee well, viy youthful ITeivter, Joy and sorrow hides the proverb : " That man's got it! " — He's in love !
S^fjc 3SttroR anb tfte ^uofer.
eKn eKpai'l'meat la tKe Sharon >9oa ^cRoenau't^ C^aniitfe.
FOURTH SCENE,
The Baron.
O lightning! Now another bout, With this accursed family gout — Quite en regie he makes the attack, And soon the foe is on his back: — He first sends out, in skirmish line, His tirailleurs with fell design; Then come the fighting columns strong, Oh! oh! no man can hold out long. And now with cannon shot and grape They knock the fortress out of shape; They storm the outworks, now the gate, — Piff, paff — I — capitulate.
Ah! Now's a truce to my distress, A prisoner I am natheless! Some people have such notions queer. And at podagra smile and sneer; And hint at what I dare to scout, — That Rhinewine such, is good for gout I 'Tis true I've always had — tut! tut! — Of every Rhinewine-year a butt
Or two down in the cellar, That I have tasted morn and night. To find in each year's new delight,
And most in Muscatella!
Yes, that is now my fav'rite wine, And e'er will be, O foe malign. And will so long as life is mine; And when my ills I can not weather, Then I shall fold my hands together, And say, v/hile waits the despot grim: "Once more a bumper, to the brim, Of my good Muscatella wine! "
O podagra, o chiragra, Your pranks were over then, tralla! And that's a comfort just to know That when he comes we both must go. (A Servant brings a letter.)
The Baron. (Opening a letter.)
From my old friend,Count Wildensteint Just give his man a glass of wine. And I will give him answer. Hm! what is it ? (Reads.)
"Dear old friend! My good spouse is dead and buried. And that ancient feud I had With the Countess, thy good cousin, Who was my first wedded partner. Ere I die, I'd like to settle! "
(To himself.)
Bravo! Bravo! That is noble! Know my brave old friend on that! Ah, he was a comrade worthy!
(Reads further.)
"Hope that she will now forgive me. Though I from my castle sent her, When she let our son be kidnapped. As he in the garden gambol'd." (Looking out over the paper.) Women soon forget their sorrows; Often saw the Countess weeping, When of Wildenstein I gossip'd.
(Reads further.)
"Out should die no noble race, Therefore is my plan as follows: You — have got a winsome daughter. And I have — an only son, Both of blood and noble breeding; And I think it needs no pleading. That you to my plan be won: Visit you, I think, we ought to, And let Damian win your daughter.'*
Donner-vetter! That's emphatic. And therewith quite diplomatic —
10
©er cfreifjerr uiiD Der g^rompeier.
^a-y ^ivnvix-zz/ hcA cFreilVe^'M't- xk>w ScnowcH/C^.
VIERTE SCENE. Der Freihe7-r.
Da schlage doch das Wetter d'rein, In das verdammte Zipperlein, Dass ich mit meineni Hinkefuss Nun hier im Lehnstuhl sitzen muss. Es gab wohl eine schone Zeit, Da war es anders noch als heut'; — Da jagt' ich durch die weite Welt, Flinic wie der Hirsch durch's Aehrenfeld, Und manches holde Aeugelein Das winkte hell wie Scmnenschein Von feme schon dem Reitersmann — Doch heut' — was fang' ich heute an ? Da ward der alte Lehnstuhl mir Zum unfreiwilligen Quartier.
Es meint wohl mancher lasterlich —
Und das ist doch ganz liicherlich!
Das sollt' vom Wein gekommen sein, —
Der Hinkefuss von solchem Wein!
's war freilich stets mein stilles Gliick,
Von jeder Rheinweinsort' ein Stiick
Zu seh'n in meinem Keller,
Und zu probiren friih und split,
Wie es mit jedem Jahrgang steht —
Zumal bei'm Muskateller!
Das ist nun 'mal mein Ueblingswein Und wird's trotz dir, o Zipperlein, Bis an mein sel'ges Ende sein — Bis an mein sel'ges Ende! — Dann fait' ich still die Hiinde Und sag': "Es muss geschieden sein, Schenkt nochmals Muskateller ein! " O Podagra, o Chiragra, Dann ist es auch mit euch tralla! Das bleibt mein Trost in dieser Welt, Wenn's noch mit mir so schlecht bestellt! (Ein Diener bringt einen Brief.)
Der Freiherr (erbricht den Brief).
Das kommt vom Grafen Wildenstein!- Lass' mir den Boten selbst herein, Die Antwort ihm zu sagen.
(Diener ab.) Hm! was will er? (licst).
"Alter Freund! Meine Frau is jiingst gestorben, Und ich v/ill den alten Streit Mit der Grafin, deiner Schwiig'rin, Die mein erst Gemahl gewesen, Noch vor meinem Ende schlichten! "
(Fiir sich.) Bravo! Bravo! das is redlich! Kenne d'ran den bieder'n Freund Und den alten Kameraden!
(Liest weiter.) " Hoffe, dass sie nicht mehr zifrnt, Weil ich damals sie verstossen, Als sie sich den Sohn Hess rauben Aus dem Schlosspark, wo er spielte."
(Ueber das Blatt hinweg.) Nein, die Frauen sind versohnlich; — Sah schon oft die Arme weinen, Wenn ich sprach vom Wildensteiner.
(Liest weiter.) " Ausgeh'n darf kein edler Stamm! Darum macht' ich mir ein Planchenl— Sag', du hast doch eine Tochter, Und ich habe einen Sohn; — Beide sind von gutem Adel Und gewiss d'rum ohne Tadel, Und ich dachte lange schon, Wenn ich nun mit Damian kame Und der deine Tochter niihme?"
Donnerwetter! — kurz, soldatisch Und dabei doch diplomatisch —
10
THE TRUMPETER OF SACKINGEN.
Well, I'm with him! — Hip — hurrah! Would not such a union bar!
(Springs up suddenly from his chair, forgetting
his gout. To the messenger from the Count of
Wildenstein, who has again entered):
Ride straight back to the Danube's vale, Greet my old friend without fault or fail; And tell him I his letter treasure, And that his proposal's a pleasure. And tell him, I'm sorry I could not write, Because the gout has crippled me quite; He'd best arrive on the first of May, My birthday — let him remember: I want to make it a festal day, For mine, of May and September: For all I've got a grand surprise, — But wisdom in discretion lies. (The messenger leaves.)
To the Schloss comes a wooer Of unblemish'd blood;
The fete will, I'm sure. Be three times as good.
Ye halls, long so dreary,
Soon opened be wide, To welcome give, cheery,
To bridegroom and bride!
FIFTH SCENE. Margaretha and the Countess, with the Former
Margaretha.
Chide me not, my dearest father, That we left you all so lonely.
Freiherr.
Such a day as this I'd rather You enjoyed the sunshine; only Want my pipe, when out you sally; It helps one his thoughts to rally — And you pray'd to Fridoline ?
Co7mtcss.
Truly: and it might have been That you never more had seen us, For the Hauensteiner peasant, Your old foes, had e'en the meanness There to make things quite unpleasant.
The Baron.
Insolence! The worthless wretches! Soon they'll know how much rope
stretches!
They shall know that frightening ladies Ouite a mighty dangerous trade is! ad I not this dreadful gout,
I would make the rascals shout.
Ah! some young fresh blood is wanted Here, to make the old stock strong! Daughter — do not wait too long — A protector, here transplanted!
Margaretha.
Father, dear one, we can find one. Quicker than you now imagine!
The Baron.
Rebels round about and dangers, And too scant the walls' defenders. Can not even give a signal, — If they came and us attack'd, — To my brave ones in the city, To my faithful band of troopers; For my good old castle bugler, Poor old Rassmann, grand old fellow, Home has gone to greet his fathers. And deserted — I am here!
Margaretha (roguishly).
O, a splendid castle bugler, I know, father, where to find!
Countess.
Mean you him, who in the city, 'Gainst the peasants gave us ward?
Margaretha.
Yes, dear guardian, it is he,
He our castle-bugler be!
He's a player just for you fitted.
Coutitess.
No, dear cousin, list to me: To our noble house should he Never by us be admitted!
The Baron.
Bah! the gift of bugle-blowing Is not learnt in halls ancestral; If the man us well can serve, Needs no 'scutcheon if he's nerve!
Coutitess.
Nay, dear cousin, list to me, He would scarcely suited be!
11
THE TRUMPETER OF SACKING EN.
Das gef;illt mir! Hei — juchhei! Ei, da bin ich gleich dabei ! (Springt vor Freude vom Stuhle auf, fasst aber nach seinem Fuss und schreit : "Au! jaso!" da ihn der heftige Schmerz wieder an's Podagra erinnert; dann zum Boten, der inzwischen einge- treten ist.)
So reite zurlick in dein Donauthal Und griisse den Freund mir viel tau-
sendmal, Und sag ihm, er moge nur kommen, Sein Antrag sei angenommen! Und sag' ihm, ich konnt' es ihm schrei-
ben nicht, Weil meine Rechte lahmte die Gicht: Doch mog' er just am ersten Mai, Zu meinem Geburtstag, erscheinen, Dass dadurch um so grosser sei Die Freude fur die Meinen, Die ich dann iiberraschen will: D'rum schweig' mir liber Alles still! (Der Bote ab.)
In's Schloss kommt ein Freier Vom griiflichen Blut, Da schmeckt mir's zur Feier Noch einmal so gut!
Ihr einsamen Riiume, Bald kehrt each zuriick Statt alternder Trauma Nun briiutliches Gliick.
FUENFTE SCENE Maria und die Grafin zum Vorigen.
Maria. Ziirne nicht, mein Vaterchen, Dass wir dich allein gelassen.
Freiherr. Nein, ich hab indess mein Pfeifchen Recht von Herzen dampfen lassen. Weiss ja schon, each Frauenzimmer Sieht man wiederkehren nimmer, Liess man euch zum Feste gehn.
Griififi. Freilich konnt' es leicht gescheh'n, Dass ihr nimmer uns gesehen; Denn die Hauensteiner Bauern, Die mit Euch im Zwiste stehen, Schienen uns dort aufzulauern.
Freiherr.
Dies Gesindel — diese Bande! Hal das ist doch eine Schande!
Nicht die Frauen auf den Gassen Mehr in Sicherheit zu lassen! Hatt' ich nicht das Zipperlein, Haut' ich heut' noch auf sie ein.
Ach, wie fehlt dem alten Stamme Doch so sehr ein frisches Reis! — Tochterchen, 's wird hohe Zeit, Einen Schirmherrn dir zu suchen.
Maria.
Vaterchen, der wird sich finden; — Vielleicht schneller, als wir's ahnen!
Freiherr.
Rings Emporung, droh'n Gefahren Uns im schwach besetzten Schlosse. Kann nicht mal ein Zeichen geben, Wenn man uns hier iiberfiel, Den Verbiindeten im Stiidtchen, Meiner alten Soldnerrotte; Denn mein treuer Schlosstrompeter, Der mir oft die Grillen wegblieSj Ging auch jLingst zu seinen Vatern, Und verlassen sitz' ich hier.
Maria.
Einen priichtigen Trompeter Wiisst' ich, Vaterchen, fiir dich!
Grafin.
Meinst doch den nicht, der beim Fest Vor den Bauern uns beschiitzt ?
Maria.
Ja, Frau Base, er allein
Soil hier Schlosstrompeter sein!
's ist ein Spielmann ohne Tadel.
Grafin.
Nein, Herr Schwager, folget mir! Der passt ganz und gar nicht hier In dies Haus von altem Adel.
Freiherr.
Ei, das Blasen der Signale Lernt man nicht im Ahnensaale; Dient uns redlich nur der Mann, Was geht uns sein Wappen an ?
Grafin.
Nein, Herr Schwager, folget mir: Der passt ganz und gar nicht hier.
11
THE TRUMPETER OF SACKINGEN.
Margaretha. Father dear, indeed —
Countess. O, heed !
Margaretha.
He were best, right well I know; Ah, so handsome is he too, — He must come; it must be so!
Cou7itess.
No, dear cousin, — no, no, no ! My good sister, with the sainted, Sad were, if with this acquainted.
The Baron (to the Countess).
Small the thanks, to him you offer. Who, to save you, bravely stood;
Strange — old Rassman too could proffer Once to shed for me his blood;
He, a bugler, too — emotion
Deep awakes such rare devotion! (He lifts the glass.)
Bugler Rassmann, here's to thee! (Sound of a bugle heard in the distance.)
Ha! who plays there down by the Rhine ?
Sounds as if he, though long ago buried,
Play'd as he rode at thehead of theserried!
Margaretha,
The handsome young player, I'm sure,
it must be!
Coutitess.
The forward young bugler, I'm sure, it
must be!
Afargaretha (looking out of the window).
'Tis he! 'Tis he! I shall now see him
daily.
With the plume in his hat nodding grace- ful and gaily.
•f)OW prou& anD gran5 bis bearing,
Ibe'e noble too, 5 linow ; ^bougb but a bugler Daring—
%\\X> set % love bim so.
II.
Bn£) baD be castles sepen, Ibe couID not comeller be.
Bn& iset 5 wouID to beaven,
tlbat just some otbec were be I
III.
© woulD tbat be were a IRltter, B kulgbt of tbe ^Fleece of (5olD !
© Xove, tbou art so bitter— © Xove, bow sweet tbs bolD !
Now up the steps to the garden he
springs!
Baron.
So bid he come hither; we'll see what he
brings! (Margaretha has hastened out of the door.)
Countess.
Nay, beware, O noble cousin, Such a young and handsome man Take not recklessly in service, — First of all his merits scan.
Baron.
Truly, truly, worthy aunt. He must be just what I want; 'Tis not every stray-musician Fitted is for such position.
Countess.
That he's young, I much deplore.
Baron.
Go, pray trouble me no more.
Countess.
If you're thus all reason past, P'rhaps you'll have to feel, at last.
Margaretha.
Father, see, he's here! he's here! Up the stairway springing; . I hear his sabre on the steps With every footstep ringing.
SIXTH SCENE.
(Werner appears.) Margaretha (to herself).
Ha, he's there! O rapture dearest! Ah, by storm my heart he took! Is it thanks, or love exulting, That he v/akens with his look ?
Wertier (to himself).
Ha — she there! O wondrous beauty! Beams on me refulgent light ?
13
THE TRUMPETER OF SACKINGEN.
Maria. Viiterchen, glaub' mir! Grdfin.
Glaubt mir!
Maria.
Nur zum Besten rath' ich dir. Ach, er ist so nett und fein — Der muss dein Trompeter sein!
Grdfin.
Nein, Herr Schwager, nein, nein, nein! Meine Schwester, die hochselig, argerte gewiss sicli schmahlicli.
Freihcrr (zur Gnifin).
Wenig Dank wisst ihr dem Retter, Der Euch barg vor Bauernwuth. Seltsam! einst, im Schlachtenwetter, Opferte sein treues Blut Auch ein Spielmann mir — auf's Neue Denk' ich heute seiner Treue!
(Er erhebt das Glas.) Spielmannstreue lebe hoch!
(Trompete aus der Feme.) Ha! wer blast dort unten am Rhein ? Das klingt ja, als Avollte noch unter dem
Rasen Mein Schlosstrompeter sein Leibstiick
mir blasen!
Maria.
Das kann nur der hiibsche Trompeter
sein! Grdfin.
Das kann nur der kecke Trompeter sein?
Maria (blickt durch's Fenster).
Er ist's! - er ist's! Ich erkenne ihn wieder! Schwer nickt ilim die Feder vom Hute
nieder. I.
Mie stol3 imD stattltcb cjebt er !
'^iz aDUcb izl <6Z\\\ jSButb ! ]6r ii3t nuv ein Q;rompeter,
lUnD Docb bin \z\b ibm gut.
II.
TUn? batr er sieben Scblosser, Br eab' nicbt 0cbmucfter Oreln, —
Scb 0ott, unD &ocb war's besser, ®r vvUr&' ein BnO'rer eein !
III.
Bcb war* er Docb ein IRltter, Bin IRltter vom golD'nen IDIiess!
© Xieb, wie biet &u bitter, ® l.ieb, wte bist Du giiss !
Vater, jetzt naht er des Schlossparks
Stufen!
Freiherr.
To sende hinunter und lass' ihn mir
rufen! (Maria ist zur Thiir hinausgeeilt.)
Grdfin.
Aber, aber, mein Herr Schwager, Solchen fremden jungen Mann Nelimt nicht gleich in Eure Dienste — Seht ihn Euch erst niiher an,
Freiherr.
Freilich, freilich, Schwagerin, Miisst' er sein nach meinem Sinn; Denn zu meinem Schlosstrompeter Passt in unsrer Zeit nicht Jeder.
Grdfin. Viel zu jung ist er dazu.
Freiherr.
Ach, das lasst mich wohl in Ruh'.
Gi dfin.
Na, wenn Ihr nicht horen wollt, Ihr vielleicht nocli flihlen soUt.
Mai'ia.
Vaterchen, er kommt! — er kommt Schon herauf die Treppen; Hore auf den Stufen Seinen Degen schleppen.
SECHSTE SCENE.
(Werner ist inzwischen zu den Vorigsn einge- treten.)
Maria (fiir sich).
Ha, da ist er! Welche Freude! Ach, wie klopft mein Herz so laut! Ist es Dank nur, ist es Liebe, Dass es jubelt, wenn's ilm schaut?
Werner (fiir sich).
Ha, da ist sie! Welche Schonheit! Blendet mich der Sonne Liclit ?
13
THE TRUMPETER OF SACKINGEN
Never saw I such enchantment, Never countenance so bright!
The Baron (to himself).
Ha, he's here! Now form in squadrons! He's a handsome youth, forsooth! Eyes of fire and heart to venture — Just the proper sort, in truth.
Countess (to herself).
Ha, he's there! What boldness truly! If I do not intervene. Sure my cousin will berue it — Bugler such was never seen.
Werner.
My colonel, you bade me hither; — I followed quickly your command!
Tlie Baron.
From harm these noble ladies Right gallantly you saved; For them your life endangered And threats of cowards brav'd; — My thanks!
Werner.
My colonel, thank me not, I did my duty, as I ought.
The Baron.
Such modesty and bravery Together we don't often see; How comes it, bugler, thus to pass ? Well — seat you near me- — sweet, a glass!
Mai garetha. And with it drink good fortune!
The Baron. With this I bid yovi welcome!
Werner.
You give me hearty welcome,
A stranger to you here; Through north and south I wandered,
A restless cavalier. In southland fragrant blossoms.
In northland ice and snow, But my own heart has ever
Known nought but yearning's woe. And what I sought, foreboding.
In all the world around; At last in this fair land I
With my own eyes have found.
The Baron.
I'm mighty glad that our fair Rhine Doth please you — 'tis a land divine;— But to the point at once let's come, Altho' at speech I'm lumbersome; I need a castle-bugler steady; My last, we bore him to his grave- Not every one would I be ready To take, for what I from him crave: Not only must the alarm be sounded. When dangers grave are round this way; In other things must be well grounded, — For example, and for extra pay: Make music to my daughter's singing, Her notes in order nicely stringing.
Werner.
In truth, good sir, I much deplore, My days of writing long are o'er; Have only horse and sabre worn, And never a pen have my fingers borne Since I as student was sent away.
Baron. A student, you? The deuce you say!
Werne): At Heidelberg.
Baron.
Well done! And knew you well the giant tun? And is there wine yet in its well ? And then the Princess ? — I pray you,
tell! Werner.
The Electress shines like a diamond's
gleam; And the wine flows out in a golden
stream. Baron.
It must be still glorious in Heidelberg
sooth ! Wern er.
In truth! ®I& IfoeiOelberg, tbou ffairest,
IHIlitb tame anO bonor's crown'D, '/iftiD rivals tbou tbe rarest,
G^be IRbine or IReckai* 'round 1
The Baron.
Just my idea! — A capital song! That lingers in the memory long!
13
TEE TRUMPETER OF SACKINGEN.
Niemals sah von solcher Anmuth Leuchten ich ein Angesicht!
FreiJm'r (fur sich).
Ha, da ist er! Kreuz Schwadronen, 's ist ein iiiibscher Bursch' furwahr! Glutli im Auge, Muth im Herzen, Wie's einst meine Sorte war!
Grcifin (fiir sich).
Ha, da ist er! Welche Kiihnheit! Bis in's Schloss verfolgt er sie ! — Ach! mein Schwager wird's bereuen: Solchen Spielmann sah ich nie.
Werner. Herr Oberst, Ihr liesset mich rufen; — Ich folgte Eurem Befehl!
Freiherr.
Ihr habt diese beiden Damen,
Die von den Bauern bedroht,
Als sie zum Feste kamen,
Recht brav beschiitzt in der Noth; —
Nehmt Dank!
Werner.
Herr Oberst, dankt mir nicht! Das war nicht niehr als Mannespflicht.
Freiherr.
Bescheidenheit und Tapferkeit Sind nicht beisammen jederzeit: Herr Spielmann, wohl gefiillt mir das! Kommt, setzt Euch zu mir! — Kind, ein
Glas. Maria.
Lasst Euch den Trunk bekommen!
Freiherr.
Ja, seid bei uns willkommen!
Werner.
Ihr heisset mich willkommen — Ein Fremdling bin ich hier, Unstlit im Siid' und Norden Durchstreift' ich das Revier.
Im Sliden Duft und Bliithen, Im Norden Eis und Schnee, Doch iiberall im Herzen Der Sehnsucht stilles Weh.
Was ahnungsvoll ich suchte, Und dennoch nirgends fand, Sah endlich nun mein Auge In diesem schonen Land.
Freiherr.
Ich freue mich, dass Euch die Welt Am Rheine hier bei uns gefiillt; — D'rum kommen wir 'mal gleich zum Ziel, Denn wisst, ich rede nicht gern viel! — Ich brauche einen Schlosstrompeter — Mein alter sank mir jiingst in's Grab; Doch kann, mein junger Freund, nicht
Jeder, Was ich fiir ihn zu schaffen hab'.
Wird nicht nur allarmiren miissen, Wenn diesem Schloss Gefahren drohn, Muss audi noch manches Andre wissen: Zum Beispiel, oft fiir Extralohn Mubik mit meiner Tochter treiben, Und zierlich fiir sie Noten schreiben.
Werner.
Fiirwahr, Herr, das bedaur' ich sehr: Allein ich bin kein Schreiber mehr. Hab' nur noch Ross und Schwert gefiihrt, Und keine Feder angeriihrt, Seit als Student ich relegirt.
Freiherr. Potz Element! Ihr habt studirt?
Werner.
Zu Heidelberg.
Freiherr.
Ei was? War auch mal dort beim grossen Fass! Erzahlt mir doch: ist noch viel drin ? Und wie geht's Eurer Frau Kurflirstin ?
Werner.
Die Kurfiirstin gUinzt wie ein Edelstein, Und goldig fliesst aus dem Fasse der
Wein.
Freiherr.
Da muss es noch herrlich zu Heidel- berg sein!
Werner.
Gewiss! Bit IbeiOclberg, Du fefnc,
H)ii StaOt, an Bbren reicb, — Bni IRcchar unD am IRbcine
IRein* anDrc kommt Mr glelcb!
Freiherr.
Das mein' ich auch!— Ein schones Lied! Wie Rebengriin lacht's in's Gemiith!
18
THE TRUMPETER OF SACKINGEN.
You seem to hold in honor just Your science like a true musician. And certainly my daughter must Much profit by your wise tuition.
Werner. Nay, noble sir — 'tis too much praise!
The Baron. But yet the bugler with us stays ?
Werner.
Margaretha! — I must fate obey! I must! — I cannot go away!
Countess (aside).
Ha! Tell me what their glances say? Who now can all the mischief stay ?
Margaretha (aside).
'Tis well to Fridoline to pray, He answers with this joy to-day.
T/ie Baron.
So drink ! — Conclude with us to stay, And now a stirring tune just play.
Werner.
Yea, noble sir, so let it be — I'll be your castle-bugler free!
T/ie Baron.
Give me your hand, my friend, agree — Our castle bugler now to be!
Margaretha.
O what delight! Yes, they agree! Our castle bugler he will be! —
Countess.
Alas! Alas! And they agree; The castle bugler he's to be!
Baron, Werner and Margaretha.
All hail, thou glorious, highest Art — With us again to take thy part; — Here in our castle o^lorious Shalt thou now reign victorious. Thy praises sound shall near and far — All hail! All hail! Dame Musica!
Countess.
O do not trust the bugler's art: With women oft it played its part, —
As in the past notorious.
It will be now victorious; And every wrong, done near and far, Was wrought through this Dame Musica!
END OF THE FIRST ACT.
14
THE TRUMPETER OF SACKINGEN.
Ihr scheint als echter Musikant Frau Musica mir hoch zu ehren Und werdet sicher recht gewandt Darin auch nun mein Kind belehren.
Wertier. Ach, edler Herr, Ihr ehrt mich sehr —
Freiherr. Und doch wird Euch das Jawort schwer ?
Werfier.
Maria! O, welch' susses Gliick!
Ich muss! — Ich kann nicht mehr zuriick!
Grdfin (fiir sich).
Ha! welches Gliick in ihrem Blick; — Umsonst beschwor ich das Geschick!
Maria (fiir sich).
Weiht' ihm ein schon' Dukatenstiick, D'rum bringt Sanct Fridolin mir Gliick!
Freiherr.
Stosst an! entschliesst Euch auf gut
Gliick; Schon klang m.ir Euer Probestiick!
Werner. Wohl, edler Herr, ich geh' d'rauf ein, Will Euer Schlosstrompeter sein.
Freiherr.
Schlag', junger Spielmann, nun d'rauf
ein: SoUst unser Schlosstrompeter sein.
Maria.
Ach' welches Gliick! Er geht d'rauf ein, Will unser Schlosstrompeter sein!
Grdfin.
O weh, o weh! Er geht d'rauf ein Und will hier Schlosstrompeter sein!
Freiherr, Werner jind Maria.
Heil dir, du holde Spielmannskunst, Zeig' uns von Neuem deine Gunst; — Im Schlosse hier, im alien, Soil nun dein Zauber walten; Und wieder ton' es fern' und nah': Heil dir, Heil dir, Frau Musica!
Grdfin.
O trauet nicht der Spielmannskunst, Stets warb sie um der Frauen Gunst, Und wie einst bei uns Alien, Wird sie's auch jetzt noch halten. An allem Ungliick, das geschah, Trug stets die Schuld Frau Musica!
ENDE DES ERSTEN AKTES.
14
ACT II.
in tRe (S^arcjea of tRe S^aroalaf (^a(«)tfe.
FIRST SCENE.
Werner is seated at the table in the garden-house, composing,
Werner.
Ves, that was right! — Yes, that will do — And quickly down all be written; From every note full well I know How deeply the man is smitten —
I.
©n sbore 5 plag'D me a merr^ tune, Z,\)Z trumpet epee&eD It glaMg,
Straight to tbe Scbloss, but in tbe storm Q;be tones got mijeD up baMg.
II.
XTbe MaterslR^mpb in tbe river's Deptbs l^earD storm anD music growling ;
Sbe rose above, an& tain woulD learn ^be reason qX all tbe bowling !
2ln& wben sbe Dove to tbe &eptbs again—
Nay, that sounds horrid, surely, Must give the chords in another key, Or else it is discord purely.
III.
BnD wben sbe &ove to tbe Oeptbs again, $be tolD tbe tisbes witb laugbter :
© IRbinestream cbilDren, sou Don't Dream tibe tollies tbat men fig atter.—
IV.
©ne sits up tbere in tbe storm anD rain, Wbat tbini? ^ou tbat be's Doing ?
1be plass tor ever tbe selfssame tune, G;be tune ot bis own maD wooing.
Conradin (appears).
How such a trooper musicus,
Even as emeritus,
For mankind must stew and fuss.
Werner.
Bright good morning, Conradin! Tell me what you'd fain begin.
Conradin
Why, don't you see ?— Don't know
what's up ? — To ask that the Baron, for our troop. To its cradle fete, as is custom Rhenish, With wine our May-day feast shall
plenish; With every kind of sport and fun Each year the festival is done.
Werner.
Oh, yes! To-day's the first of May And our good master's natal day.
Conradin.
Methinks that here you're nicely fix'd — Forgot that you ever with us folks mix'd.
Werner
Could I but know if the Fates were Avill'd To see my highest hopes fulfill'd: —
I.
Mben tbee 5 saw tbe first glaD time, ^S tbougbts stuck fast in telling ;
J6ut all ms bopes tbemselves resolveD, 5n tunetul accents swelling.
16
ZWEITER AKT.
TUcmer imO Maria.
I'VH' ^a/&tc4i/ hi2/y iz.c4^c/!yiXicrv0'n' ^cm/u>»»c<>.
ERSTE SCENE.
Werner.
So Avird es recht! — nur weiter so — Und rasch auch niedergeschrieben; Aus jeder Note erkenn' ich froh Das Lied von meinem Lieben.
I.
Bm lafec biles icb cln lustlg Stucft, Mte l^lang 5ic alte tlrompete
Ibell (n ben Sturm, Der Das ©cton £um Ibcrrenscbloss verwcbte I
II.
mc Massertrau im tfetcn (BrunD Ibort Sturm unD ^one rauscben,
$ie 6tei0t beraut, neugierig will 2)tc Q;onc sie erlauscben.
■QlnD als sie wieOer binabgetaucbt — ■ClnD als sie wieDer binabgetaucbt —
Das will mir noch nicht klingen, Muss die Accorde gleich einmal In and're Lage bringen.
III.
"OnJ) als sie wie&er binabgetaucbt, Brsablt sie Den 3Fiscben mit ILacben :
** © IRbeinesMn&er, man erlebt Docb souDerbarlicbe $acben :
IV.
Sit3t oben einer im IRegensturm ;
Wlas glaubt Jbr, Dass er triebe 1 — JSlast immersu Dasselbe XieD,
Das XieO von seiner Xiebe."
Coiiradin (tritt auf).
Was solch' alter Musikus Selbst noch als Emeritus Fiir die Menschheit leisten muss!
Werner.
Guten Morgen, Conradin!
Sag', mein Freund, wo willst du hin ?
Conradin.
Siehst du's denn nicht ? — Ich will ins
Schloss, Vom gniid'gen Herrn fiir unsern Tross Beim Wiegenfest nach rhein'schen Sit-
ten Den Wein zum Maifest zu erbitten, Das er mit Spielen mancherlei Uns hier alljahrlich feiern lUsst.
Werner.
Ach ja, heut' ist der erste Mai
Und uns'res Herrn Geburtstagsfest.
Conradin.
Mir scheint, du bist hier so begluckt, Dass du der ganzen Welt entrtickt.
Werner.
Wiisst ich nur erst gewiss und klar, Ob meine schonste Hoffnung wahr.
I.
"dnO als icb 3«m ersten /iRal Oicb sab,
Derstummten mcinc THaorte, Bs loste all mcin Denken sicb
3^n scbvvellenDe BccorDe.
15
THE TRUMPETER OF SACKINGEN.
II,
anJ) bere 5 stanD, a bugler poor,— Cbc moat— 5 cannot jump tt—
5 cannot 6ai3 tbee wbat ^ will,— BnD senD mg love per trumpet.
Conradin
Nay, strike me lightning as I stand — They know it well throughout tlie land: When fire breaks out it sends up blazes, — A maiden's fiery glance, I'll own, A hot commotion often raises.
Werner.
For'sure! But we are ne'er alone — All her gracious aunt opposes — Everywhere her precious nose is — And here she comes again . . .
Conradin.
Let me arrange it.
SECOND SCENE. (Margaretha and the Countess appear.)
Margaretha.
I've made you wait I'm much afraid;
Forgive me if I kept you long —
And have you brought me what you
said: — Thought out for me a nice new song ?
Werner.
Here, Fraulein, 'tis, but not quite ready — Friend Conradin disturb'd the work.
Margaretha.
Yes, like this it was most truly —
As here in black and white writ duly:
©n sbore 3^ pla^eD me a merrs tune, Ube trumpet speeDcO it olaMg
Straigbt to tbe Scbloss, *but in tbe storm Q;be tones got mijeD up baOlg.
Countess. Hand here and let me too peruse it.
Conradin (trying to get the Countess away).
Dear Countess — but for my sake do — The Baron sure will give through you The wine for the fete — I pray,be gracious!
Countess.
Do it yourself! 'Tis too audacious — I have no time — till here I'm through.
Conradin.
Well, if it must be — Donnerwetter (Goes to the castle.)
Countess.
Nothing p'r'aps could suit them better — From the scene thus quick to get her! Know the oroverb, What the mousies Do whene'er the cat from house is; They dance and they gambol They sing as they ramble, And woo and stray And coo and play At kissing!
Werner and Margaretha.
Nothing p'r'aps could suit us better — From the scene away to get her! Know the proverb, What the mousies Do whene'er the cat from house is; They dance and they gambol, They sing as they ramble, And woo and stray. And coo and play At kissing!
Cotmtess.
But, my good musician, It were better, in tuition, That the teacher should a bit Further from his pupil sit.
Werner.
Countess, 'tis the best position; Else where is your harmony ?
Conradin (returning from the castle). Heaven be prais'd! O victory! (loud): Dear Countess, the Baron wants a dragon To watch us well When we our flagon Shall fill in the cellar With Muscatella; Therefore he asks You with us go — For 'tis his favorite wiiie,you know. —
Countess.
With you go —
Oh, this too cruel blow!
16
THE TRUMPETER OF SACKINGEN.
II.
D'rum steb fcb arm XLvompctctlcin /iftusicircnD auf Dem IRasen, Ikann &(r nicbt sagen, was icb will, Ikann meine %icl>' nur blasen!
Cojiradln.
Da schlage doch das Wetter d'rein, Es leuchtet doch wohl Jedem ein: Wenns Feuer brennt, dann schlagt es
Flammen. Bist mit dem schonen Schlossfriiulein Doch nun schon manchen Tag zusam-
men.
Werner.
Gewiss! doch nie sind wir allein ; Denn ihre gniidigste Frau Base Steckt hier in AUes ihre Nase. Dort kommt sie schon wieder. . . .
Conradln. Lass mich nur machen !
ZWEITE SCENE. Marie und die Grafin zu den Vorigen.
Maria.
Ihr habt gewiss schon mein geharrt ; — Verzeiht, dass es so lange ward ! Habt Ihr mir auch, wie Ihr's versprach't, Ein hiibsches neues Lied erdacht ?
Werner.
Hier, Friiulein, ist's, doch nicht ganz
fertig ; — Freund Conradin hat mich gestort.
Maria.
Gerade so ist es gewesen,
Wie hier im ersten Vers zu lesen :
Bm "Glfer blics icb ein lusticjes StUcft, TlClic hlang Die alte tTrompete Ibell in &en Sturm, &er das 0et6n 2;um 1berrenscblO60 verwebte.
Grafin. Zeig' her und lass mich auch mal lesen !
Conradin,
Frau Grafin, thut es mir zu Lieb Und bittet unsern Herrn von mir, Den Wein zum Fest uns zu gewiihren.
Grafin.
Den kann Er selbst von ihm begehren ! Hab' keine Zeit — ich bleibe hier !
Conradin.
Nun, wenn es sein muss — meinetwegen! (Ab ins Schloss. )
Grafin.
Wohl war' ihnen das gelegen, Wich ich plotzlich hier vom Platze ; Doch was thaten einst die Mause, Als spazieren ging die Katze? Sie tanzten und sprangen, Juchhei'ten und sangen, Und liebten sich, Und iibten sich Im Kiissen.
Werner und Maria.
Ach, wie kam' es uns gelegen, Wich die Alte jetzt vom Platze ; Doch sie denkt wohl an die Mause, Als spazieren ging die Katze : Sie tanzten und sprangen, Juchhei'ten und sangen, Und liebten sich, Und iibten sich Im Kiissen.
Grafin.
Doch, Herr Schlosstrom peter, Muss beim Unterricht denn jeder Lehrer gar so dicht und nah Sitzen bei der Schiil'rin da ?
Werner. Ja, Frau Grafin, das muss Jeder ; Sonst giebt's keine Harmonie.
Conradin Kommt wieder aus dem Sclilosszuriick, bei Seite
Gott sei Dank, jetzt hab' ich sie !
(laut:) Frau Grafin, der Herr lasst euch bitten,
Dabei zu sein,
Wenn wir die Biitten
Uns fiillen im Keller
Mit Muskateller,
Denn nicht allein
Lasst er uns ein : Ihr wisst, es ist sein Lieblingswein !
Grafin (in Verlegenheit).
Ich — ich — ich ? Das ist doch iirgerlich !
16
THE TRUMPETER OF SACKINGEK
Countess.
Nothing p'r'aps could suit them better,
etc.
Conradm, Werner and Margaretha.
Nothing, sure, could suit us better, etc.
(Conradin and the Countess leave.)
THIRD SCENE.
Werner and Margaretha.
Let Heaven be prais'd! We are alone — At last alone, to dream and story; Here 'neath the spready chestnuts' glory, At last we are alone — alone! —
Wej-ner.
Sun, has thy light not grown in splendor?
Heav'n, is thy vault not deeper blue ? Dost joy supreme to me surrender.
Blest world of Springtime, born anew! O gladsome life, in blossom'd story! O joys of May, in sunlit glory! The music of a thousand voices,
From every flower and every tree, — Tells not how deep my heart rejoices,
What glorious wealth I find in thee!
Margaretha.
Heaven be prais'd, O Werner, lov'd one — Parted all too long were we:
Yet no minute passed, believe me.
That my thoughts were not with thee! When I saw thee at the fete, Found my heart at once its mate ! Didst thou in my eyes discover How the lov'd one sought the lover ? Never rapture came like mine. Life and love and bliss divine!
Werner. I.
"Wihcn ffrst 5 saw tbcc passing bg, 'G;was /llbarcb tbe sijtb, ^ minD me:
a bolt flasb'D from tbe clouOIess s,\vq, Mitb mtgbt enougb to blluD me !
II.
^^ beart (t struck and scorcb'D to rust,
an& left no particle over : JSut iv^slike grew from tbe Dust
tibe name of one anO— 5 love berl
Margaretha.
Mean you mine, O Werner ? Tell me I
Werner.
Yes, the name was thine, O Margaretha!
Countess (at the cellar door). Margaretha!
Margaretha. Aunty!
Countess. Music stop'd! Say what the cause is ?
Margaretha.
We've just come to all the rest-notes. — Many long and splendid pauses.
Countess.
Yes, I hear them — kind o' jest-notes, — Wait, I can't allow all this — (She goes down to the cellar again.)
Werner and Margaretha.
Ah! Too brief, alas, our bliss!
(A deputation of Hauenstein peasants crosses the stage, gesticulating violently. They enter the castle).
Margaretha.
Lo — gone the clouds of angry weather!
Murmurs now the morning breeze: Whispering that we twain, together,
May a while be at our ease. Nothing more have we to fear us, If we play and let her hear us.
Werner.
Margaretha! We must mind us! Some good plan of action find us: Let us not delay the singing. Now our thoughts on music winging; So the aunt will ne'er discover What Love whispers to the lover.
Margaretha.
Sweet thy songs, and woven in them All my thoughts and all my stress,
Let me sink myself within them,
And with them my love confess.
Every word's deep, hallow'd glory Streams on me as from above,
Sweetly sounds the blissful story In thy songs to me, O Love!
17
THE TRUMPETER OF SAC KIN GEN.
Grdfin.
(wie oben.)
Das kommt ihnen wohl gelegen, — etc.
Conradin, Werner unci Maria.
Ei, das kam uns recht gelegen — etc (Conradin und die Grafin ab.)
DRITTE SCENE.
Werner und Maria.
Gott sei gedankt, wir sind allein, Zum erstenmal mit unsern Triiumen, Hier, unter diesen griinen Baumen, Zum erstenmal allein — allein ! —
Scheinst du nicht heisser, Gottessonne ? Lachst du nicht biauer, Himmelszelt ? Ach ! warst du jemals so voll Wonne, Du bliithenweisse Friihlingswelt ? — Der Blumen Geist und neues Leben, Des Maien Duft, des Lenzes Weben, Was dort so siiss die Bienen saugen Aus blUhendem Kastanienzweig, Lacht mir aus deinen holden Augen Und macht mich unermesslich reich.
Maria
Gott sei Dank, Herr Werner — lange Waren beide wir bewacht, Doch zu jeder Stunde hab' ich Treulich nur an Euch gedacht ; — Seit ich Euch beim Feste fand, War mein Herz Euch zugewandt. Konnt's wohl in den Augen lesen, Was Ihr mir seitdem gewesen : Leben, Liebe, Gliick und Traum — Ach, die Wonne fass' ich kaum !
Werner^
I.
Bis icb 3unt erstenmal Xi\c\i sab, Bs war am secbstcn /lRar5e, Da fubr c\\\ "MiXs aus biauer Xutt ItJersengeuD in mein 1ber3e,
II.
Ibat Bir verbrannt, was &rinnen stanD, Bs ist mir nicbts geblieben, S>ocb epbeugleicb wacbst aus Dcm Scbutt 2)er IRame metner Xieben,
Maria. Meinst du meinen Namen, Werner ?
Werner Deinen Namen siiss, Maria! o Maria!
Grdfi7i (in der Kellerthiir).
Maria !
Maria.
Baschen !
Grdfin. Hor' euch gar nicht musiciren !
Maria.
Bin gerade beim Pausiren — Lauter lange, schone Pausen.
Grdfin.
Ja, das h5r' ich, Kind, mit Grausen ; Wart', ich komme gleich zuriick !
Werner und Maria, Ach, das war' ein kurzes Gliick !
Maria.
Seht, voriiber zog das Wetter, Und es rauscht der Morgenwind Wie zur Mahnung durch die Bllitter, Dass allein wir wieder sind. Nun soil sie uns nicht mehr stciren, Wollen uns nur angehoren,
Werner.
Friiulein, Fraulein! Avelch Beginnen ! Nein, da gilt's auf List zu sinnen : Lasst die Laute weiterklingen, Was wir plaudern, lasst uns singen ; Dann wird Baschen nimmer spiiren, Wie so siiss wir musiciren.
Maria.
All mein Lieben, all mein Denken Weht durch deine Lieder nur ! Darf ich mich in die versenken, Folg' ich eig'ner Liebe Spur ; Denn es strahlt wie Morgenrothe Jedes liebe Wort mich an, Siiss, wie eine Hirtenflote, Klingt dein Lied mir, trauter Mann !
17
THE TRUMPETER OF SACKINGEN.
Werner.
Can it be, O Margaretha ? Lovest me, because of song ?
Margaretha.
I love thee, aye, and need not borrow Aid from song or music's art.
I love thee, aye, in joy and sorrow,
I love thee, love, with all my heart!
Werner.
O what bliss dost thou impart!
Both.
For each other living wholly,
That is happiness divine: With each other finding solely
Love's supremest rapture holy — Thine, beloved — ever thine!
FOURTH SCENE.
(The Countess and Conradin appear, coming from the cellar.)
Coimtess.
To help! To help! What must I see ?
Conradin. What monstrous horror can it be ?
Coufitess. There, my niece — the daring bugler!
Conradin.
Aye, object to — mighty few girls Kisses kissed by a man that bugles!
Countess.
She has in his net been caught, And has surely quite forgot That her 'scutcheon's free from blot: And honors high await her.
Margaretha. Dearest Aunty:
Countess.
Margaretha: O yes, put a smiling face on —
Margaretha. Dearest aunt, 'twas in the lesson!
Werner and Conradin. Truly, it was in the lesson!
FIFTH SCENE. (The Former. The Baron. Hauenstein Peasants.)
Countess.
Oh yes, 'twas quite too pastoral, I'll keep no longer silence.
Just wait a while, my cousin shall Kick out such base beguilance
Margaretha.
But not just now — my dearest aunty — Do not spoil the birthday fete.
Werner and Conradin.
But not just now — O graciousCountess — Do not spoil the birthday fete.
The Baron (to the peasants).
Wait a while, my son-in-law
Soon shall show you who's the master!
The Peasants.
Not a tax can you e'er claw
On the Rhine — and therewith basta!
The Baron.
Grape and bullet's what you lack, sirs, — Medicine the very best.
The Peasants.
There'll be work for pike and axes, On your crazy robber's nest!
The Baron.
Off, ye sowherds.
The Peasants.
Curse you, cowards! Make your doors a little faster. For the servants with their master Soon into our hands shall fall! Then death to all!
llie Baron.
If you in their hands shall fall — Then death to all!
Coimtess (to the Baron).
First attend to your relations — Bad is riot, worse is stealth! Youthful folk must well be warded, I have told you oft before!
18
THE TRUMPETER OF SACKING EN.
Werner.
Wiir' es moglich, o Maria? Liebtest mich in meiner Kunst?
Maria.
Ich liebe dich von ganzem Herzen, Nicht, wie du glaubst, nur deine Kunst, — Ich liebe dich in Lust und Schmerzen, Aus tiefster Seele lieb' ich dich!
Werner. Welch' Gliick, Maria, welche Gunst !
Beide. So mit ganzer Seele lieben, Das ist Seligkeit aliein ; — Das aliein ist Gliick, ist Leben, Spricht das Herz mit Wonnebeben : Dein Geliebter (Geliebte), ewig dein!
VIERTE SCENE. Die Grafin mit Conradin aus der Kellerthiir.
Grdfin. Zu Hilfe! Zu Hilfe! Was muss ich sehn?
Conradin. Ja, Ungeheures ist geschehn!
Grdfin. Meine Nichte — ein Trompeter.
Conradin.
Gniidigste glaubt mir: nicht Jeder Kiisst so sLiss wie ein Trompeter.
Grdfin.
Ich erlag nur Seiner List ! — Und die Nichte, die vergisst, Dass sie Edelfriiulein ist. Soil es schwer mir biissen.
Maria. Liebes Biischen !
Grdfin. Lass dein Naschen Kiinftig mir von solchen Dingen.
Maria. Es gehorte ja zum Singen !
Werner und Conradin. Freilich, das gehort zum Singen!
FUENFTE SCENE. Die Vorigen. Der Freiherr. Bauern.
Grdfin.
Das wird mir denn doch zu toll, Und ich werde nichts verschweigen ; — Wartet nur, mein Schwager soil Euch die Lehrmethode zeigen!
Maria.
Nur nicht jetzt gleich, liebes Biischen ! Nehmet Riicksicht auf sein Fest !
Werner und Conradin.
Nur nicht jetzt gleich, gniid'ge Grafin ! Nehmt doch Riicksicht auf sein Fest! gleichzeitig.
Freiherr.
Wartet nur, mein Eidam soil Euch die Herrenrechte zeigen!
Die Bauern.
Nicht die Steuer, nicht der Zoll Auf dem Rhein ist Euer eigen!
Freiherr.
Mit Karthaunen werd' ich fiittern Den, der mir mein Recht nicht liisst.
Die Bauern.
Dann soil uns're Axt zersplittern Dieses stolze Herrennest,
Der Freiherr. Fort, ihr Bauern!
Die Bauern.
Priift die Mauern,
Eure Thore lasst vergittern.
Wie den Knechten, ireht's den Rittern :
Fallen sie in unsre Hiinde,
Ist's ihr Ende !
Der Freiherr.
Fallt ihr ihnen in die Hande, Ist's eu'r Ende !
Grdfin.
Ach, was musste hier passiren, — Schwager, ich war nicht dran schuld ! Junges Volk will stets bewacht sein, Hab' Euch oft genug gewarnt.
18
THE TRUMPETER OF SACKINGEN,
The Others.
Noble Sir — ) ^ i ,.• i
■rj. ^y ■ \ conQ;ratulations!
leather, mine — \ ^
Wishing you long life and health!
Be your ways by Heaven guarded
Be no ills for you in store.
The Baron.
Thanks, dear people, for this pleasure ! Your good wishes I shall treasure —
But this rattle
And this prattle — Quite enough we've had, I'm sure And much more I can't endure!
Countess.
Cousin! Oh, I'm quite upset! What I saw I'll ne'er forget — Quite enough my nerves to shatter!
The Baron. Pray, then, tell me what's the matter.
Countess.
Yon audacious trumpetist
Hath your noble daughter kiss'd!
The Baron.
The musician!
Then perdition.
If such fever's
Got in his brain,
He must leave us, That is plain — Or first let him cool Off in yonder pool!
Werner.
My Colonel — Do I this deserve ?
Margaretha. This, father, he does not deserve!
Couradin. Now, truly, he will want his nerve.
The Baron.
Think you? Well — I'll speak right out, I don't mumble round about. Sorry he must be rejected —
Have a son-in-law in view From our own high rank selected And to-day he's here expected. And, dear cousin, furthermore, I've a treat for you in store.
(To Werner, sharply.) Let each keep to his class away — Who bugler is must bugler stay !
SIXTH SCENE. QUINTETTE.
Margaretha.
Must so soon the sunshine vanish ?
Shall another wooer be mine ? Would they from me Werner banish ?
Has my father such design 1 Never, never Can they sever
Hearts that know this love divine! No and no! For love unending
Must such love as ours be; And tho' great be my offending,
Werner, I will think of thee!
Werner.
Must so soon the sunshine vanish?
Shall another wooer be thine ? Would they from thy side me banish, —
— Then were woe unspoken mine! Never, never Can they sever
Hearts so filled with love divine. No and no! For love unending
Must such love as ours be. Great as is his wrath unbending —
Margaretha, think of me.
Conradin.
Must so soon their sunshine vanish ? Shall for her another pine ?
O, young friend, whom they now banish- E'er to-night what fate is thine ? Never, never Can they sever Hearts bound fast by troth divine.
Great as seems thy sweet offending, Hopeless let thy life not be;
For such love is, aye, unending — Thine will be the victory.
Countess.
None too soon the clouds have vanish'd,
She will none too long repine; That is right — he must be banish'd —
I well knew his base design. Time, if ever, 'Twas to sever
Hearts that showed love's every sign! Cousin, great was his offending, —
Did I not the woe foresee ? Him about his bus'ness sending, —
Rids us of his treachery.
19
THE TRUMPETER OF SACKINGEN.
Huld !
Die Anderen.
Edler Herr, ) . ^ ,.
Vaterchen, [ ^ir gratuliren
Und erbitten Eure Deine
Ma St f "^^^ Segen reich bedacht sein, Nie vom Missgescliick umgarnt. Freiherr.
Dank Euch! Dank fiir so viel Segen; — Freud und Gliickwunsch allerwegen —
Doch des Schnatterns
Und Salbaterns 1st es wahrlich nun genug — Werde selbst ja nicht d'raus klug!
Grdfin.
Schwager, ach! ein Nervenschlag Trifft mich noch an diesem Tag — Schreckliches hab' ich gesehen !
Freiherr. Nun, was ist denn geschehen ?
Gi'dfin. Der dort so verwegen ist, Dass er Eure Tochter kiisst !
Freiherr.
Der Trompeter ? Donnerwetter! Hat wohl Fieber In seinem Kopf? Schiitt' er sich driiber 'nen Wassertopf ; — Sicherlich dann fiihlt Er sich abgekiihlt!
Werner, Herr Oberst, Spott verdien' ich nicht.
Maria. Nein, Vater, Spott verdient er nicht.
Conradifi. Nein, wahrlich, Spott verdient er nicht.
Freiherr.
Meint ihr ? Nun, so sag' ich's schlicht, — Offenheit ist meine Pflicht: Seid zu spat dazu gekommen Hab' mir einen Schwiegersohn Schon aus meinem Stand genommen, Und der wird noch heute kommen ! Auch fiir Euch, Frau Schwiigerin, Hab' ich eine Freud' im Sinn. Bleibe Jeder bei seiner Art, Trompeter, wer Trompeter ward!
SECHSTE SCENE. QU IN TEXT.
Maria.
Wie? was hor' ich ? Einem Andern War' ich, Vater, zugedacht ? Werner sollte fernhin wandern. Wo mein Aug' ihm nicht mehr lacht,
Nimmer, nimmer,
Ihn der Schimmer Treuer Liebe gliicklich macht ! — Nein, o nein, so heisse Liebe Muss auch ew'ge Liebe sein; Ach, das Scheiden ist so triibe, — Werner, nie vergess* icli dein !
Werner,
Wie ? was hor' ich? Einem Andern War' Maria zugedacht ? Ruh'los sollt' ich wieder wandern ? Scliones Leben, gute Nacht !
Nimmer, nimmer
Mir der Schimmer Holden Gliickes hier mehr lacht! — Glaubte, dass so heisse Liebe MUsst' auch ew'ge Liebe sein; Ach, das Scheiden ist so triibe, Triiber das Vergessensein.
Conradin.
Wie ? was hor' ich ? Einem Andern War' Maria zugedacht ? Junger Freund, musst du auch wandern Aus dem Schlosse noch vor Nacht,
Zweifle nimmer,
Dass der Schimmer Holden Gllicks dir wieder lacht. Bricht der Trennung Weh' auch triibe In dein Leben jetzt herein, Glaub' mir, treue Landsknechtsliebe Wird noch ihre Rettung sein.
Grdfi?i.
Ha ! was hor' ich ? Welchem Andern Wiir' Maria zugedacht ? Das ist recht! — fort muss er wandern, Der solch' Leid in's Schloss gebracht
Sagt' es immer, —
Doch viel schlimmer Ward es noch, als ich gedacht ! — Schwager, seht Ihr, dass die Liebe Leid gebracht in's Schloss herein; — Doch mein Leben, das so triibe, Wodurch AvoUt Ihr es erfreu'n?
19
THE TRUMPETER OF SACKINGEN.
Baron.
No, the sunshine has not vanish'd —
He shall be no son of mine; Let his steed be saddled: banish'd
He must be for his design. Vain is ever The endeavor
Up in other ranks to shine! Yet, though great is his offending,
Sad is such a harsh decree; Why did not the fates befriend him ?
He a Wildenstein should be.
Finale.
A servant enters hastily and speaks with the Baron.)
The Baron. Hal Arriv'd ? Bid them come!
The Countess. Who come ?
The Baron.
The Count of Wildenstein! — Comes with his son, young Damian, For son-in-law he's just the man!
SEVENTH SCENE. (Count Wildenstein and Damian have entered.)
The Baron. Be welcome! Aye, thrice welcome be!
The Countess. O heaven, Count Wildenstein I see! Has he forgot his conduct base ? And now dares meet me face to face ?
Margaretha. My bridegroom — with the baby face ? Here, I am sure, he's out of place!
Werner.
The hot blood rushes to my face — Retreat before so poor a case.
Conradin.
O see the youngster's putty face — He's surely here much out of place!
Count of Wildenstein.
Courage, Damian, don't get frighten'd. Hold your head up: in you go:
There she stands, the noble Friiulein, Red as blood and white as snow.
T>amian. Yes, dear father.
The Baron (to Damian).
Don't get frighten'd, my good younker, Early wooed, the sooner won;
Soon I'll lead you to my daughter, And to-day you'll both be one.
Damian. Yes, my colonel!
Count of Wildenstein (to the Countess).
Every feud at last is settled — Every sorro\/ 's sooth'd at last.
Let us be at odds no longer. For the end is nearing fast;
Joined again, our lives made stronger, Let us bury what is passed!
The Countess.
Think you at your words depart Life-long sorrows from my heart.
The Baron.
No more weeping. Let the sleeping Past be blotten Out, forgotten!
The Countess (aside).
If but my son with him here he had
brought, I would not refuse him aught. As it is
Damian.
Did I do that just as I ovight !
1 gave the wreath with grace, methought?
Count of Wildenstein. Yes, my son!
Damian. But still she never on me look'd!
Count of Wildetrstein. Don't matter, son, she's safely book'd!
Dai7iian and Count ]Vildenstein. O I (thou) most fortunate Damian! The Baron.
Pray heed: Announc'd be far and wide
What happiness is mine: Margaretha of Schoenau is the bride
Of Damian of Wildenstein!
20
THE TRUMPETER OF SAC KIN GEN.
Freiherr.
Ja, ihr hort es, einem Andern
1st Maria zugedacht.
Sattelt ihm sein Ross, denn wandern
Muss der Spielmann noch vor Nacht;
Glaubte nimmer,
Dass der Schimmer Neuen Glticks so tollkiihn macht, Dass der Strahl der ersten Liebe Briich so schnell in's Herz herein. Schad"! es stimmt mich selber triibe; — War' doch er der Wildenstein!
Finale.
Der Freiherr. Ha, da sind sie!
Freiherr.
Lasst sie ein!
Grdfin. Wer kommt?
Freiherr. Der Graf von Wildenstein Mit seinem Sohne Damian; — Zum Eidam nahni ich den mir an!
SIEBENTE SCENE.
Graf von Wildenstein ist inzwischen mit Damian zu den Vorigen aufgetreten.
Freiherr. Willkommen! seit willkommen mir!
Grdfin, Bei Gott der Wildensteiner hier' — Ein And'rer wagt' es sicher nicht, Zu treten vor mein Angesicht.
Maria.
Mein Brautigam — solch Milchgesicht ? Nein, Viiterchen, den nehm' ich nicht.
Werner. Es steigt das Blut mir ins Gesicht, Zu weichen solchem kleinen Wicht!
Ei,
Conradin. selit mir doch solch Milchgesicht:
Das scheint mir audi der Rechte nicht!
Graf V071 Wildenstein.
Nur Courage, nur nicht Jingstlich, Und den Kopf hiibsch in die Hoh ; — Sieh dort steht das Edelfriiulein, Roth wie Blut und weiss wie Schnee.
J a, Herr Vater.
Damian.
Freiherr.
Nur nicht angstlich, mein Herr Junker, Jung gefreit hat nie gereut; Fiihr Euch gleich zu meiner Tochter, Werdet ja ein Paar noch heut'.
Damian. Ja, Herr Oberst.
Graf von Wildenstein (zur Grafin).
Jeder Hader hat sein Ende, Jeden Kummer heilt die Zeit; Wollen uns nicht liinger gramen — Einsam stehen wir nun Beid' ; — Lasst uns nicht ins Grab mit nehmen Was wohl Beide langst bereut.
Grdfin.
Glaubt Ihr, Ihr scheucht mit einem Wort Den lebenslangen Kummer fort ?
Freiherr.
Keine Scenen, Keine Thriinen: 's ist ja indessen AUes vergessen ; — Frisch und froh!
Grdfin (fiir sich).
War's mein Sohn, den er mit sich gebracht Hiitt' er Alles gut gemacht:
Aber so
Damian.
Hab' ich's, Herr Vater, auch gut gemacht, Als ich ihr den Strauss gebracht ?
Graf von Wildenstein. Ja, mein Sohn.
Damian. Sie sieht mich aber gar nicht an.
Graf von Wildenstein. Thut nichts, mein Sohn, duwirst ihr ]Mann.
Damian und Graf Wildenstein. O ich (du) glUckseliger Damian !
Freiherr. Hort an ! verkiinden will ich's laut In alle Welt hinein : Maria von Schonau ist die Braut Des Junkers von Wildenstein !
20
THE TRUMPETER OF SACKINGEN.
Margai-etha.
My father! — He, mine ? I must decline! Such son-in-law shall ne'er be thine!
Werner. A base design! She will decline, I know her heart is safely mine!
Countess.
A base design, She must decline! The son of the hated one ne'er be thine!
Conradin. A base design — She will decline — A beardless youth is not in her line!
Damian.
Margaretha mine! O joy divine — And won't my father think us fine !
Wildenstein.
Oh, fhat's too fine — A Wildenstein Could win in spite of buglers nine!
The Baroii (to Werner). No pleading moves; no prayer avails
thee; Thy home, O bugler, thou must seek
elsewhere! Margaretha. No, no! I cannot let thee leave me!
Countess. Dearest child, 'twere best, believe me!
Werner. Dearest one, O do not grieve thee!
loung TUHerner's ^Farewell.
I.
® It Is 6a& tbat in tbis lite below
IClitb roses e'er tbe cruel tborns we fiiiD; :anD tbougb tbe loving beart mas Dream
anJ) trow, tlbe parting comes too soon to souls en=
twin'D. 2>eep in tbine e^es 5've gaseD so oft anD
rea&, ®t glowing \qvc auD bappiness anD glee ;
GoD guarO tbee, Xove, too quicli tbe Oa^s
bave spe5:— ©CD guard tbee, Xove, it sboulO not,
sboulD liot be !
II.
Ipain, env)5t bate, all tbese— 5've felt tbeir
sting, B wears wanD'rer, toss'O bs tiooD anD
tide; 5 dreamt of peace and da^s of constant
spring,
Bnd fate did lead me gladly to tbs side :
Bnd in tbg presence 3^ bad lov'd to tread»
%\\ gratitude ms life's love give to tbee;
(3od guard tbee, Xove, too quick tbe dags
bave sped:— ©od guard tbee, Xove, it sbould not,
sbould not be !
III.
^be storm-clouds speed, tbe wind sigbs
tbrougb tbe leaves, B sbiv'ring rain falls down o'er wood and
field; 3ftt mood it is for one wbo parts and
grieves,— Dark as tbe skies, tbe future unreveal'd— 38e fame mg lot, or if too ill 5'm wed, B'er, loving beart, in trutb, 5' II tbink of
tbee; ©od guard tbee, Xove, too quick tbe dags
bave sped:— ©od guard tbee, Xove. it sbould not,
sbould not be I
Chorus.
Scarcely met, yet doom'd to part: Bitter 'tis, O sorrowing heart!
Conradin
Courage, friend! The morning bright Follows e'er the gloom of night.
Chorics.
Sorrow-laden, youthful pair, Ah! too soon comes your despair! Hour of parting, all so grievious — Those who love us best must leave us!
Margaretha.
Tender dreams of Maytime golden — Gone, with him — for evermore!
21
THE TRUMPETER OF SACKINGEN.
Maria.
Mein Vater, halt ein, Das kann nicht sein ; Nur wen ich liebe, werd' ich frei'n.
Werner.
O haltet ein, Es kann nicht sein, Ihr stort den seligsten Verein !
Grdfin.
O nein, o nein, Das darf nie sein, Den Sohn der Verliassten soil sie nicht
frei'n
Conradin.
O nein, o nein. Das darf nicht sein: Der Milchbart soil nicht Herr hier sein!
Damian.
Maria mein ? Mein ganz allein ? Wie wird sich da mein Vater freu'n !
Wildenstein.
Was soil das sein ? Ein Wildenstein Weicht nicht vor dem Trompeterlein !
Freiherr.
Es lost kein Fleh'n, kein Bitten mein
Versprechen:
Dein Heim, o Spielmann, ist dies Schloss
nicht mehr !
Maria. Nein, ich kann dich nimmer lassen !
Grdfin. Armes Kind, du musst dich fassen!
Werner. SUsses Kind, du musst dich fassen!
I.
Bas ist tm Xebcn bassUcb eingcricbtet, 2)as9 \)Z\ Oen IRosen gleicb Die Dovnen
steb'n, TIlnD was Das annc Ibers aucb sebnt unD
Dicbtet, %\\x\\ $cblu0se lioiiimt Das DoneiuanDec*
geb'n. 5n Deincn Buacn bab' icb einst iielesen, jEs blitste Dcin von Xieb' unD OUick ein
Scbein :
JSebUt' Dicb (Sott, es war' 3u scbon ge*
wesen,
:E3ebUt' Dicb (3ott, es bat nicbt sollcn seini
II.
XeiD, fleiD unD Ibass, nun bab' icb sie em*
ptunDcn, Bin sturmgepriifter, muDer "ManDcrsmann, %c\) traunit' von jFiieDen Dann unD sel'gen
StunDcn, Da tUbrte niicb Der IKHeg 3U Dir binan, 3n Deinen Brmen wollt' icb oans genesen^ £um 2)anl?c Dir mein junges Xeben weib'n— JSebut' Dicb (3ott, es war' 3u scbon cie=
wesen, JBebut' Dicb (3ott, es bat nicbt soilen sein I
III.
2)ie IKaoll^en flieb'n, Der MinD saust Durcb
Die JBlatter, Bin IReqenscbauer 3i<^bt Durcb "milalD unD
3felD. %\xw\ BbscbieDnebmen just Das recbte
mettcr, (Brau, wie Der Ditnmel, stebt vor niir Xiiz
Welt. ^Q)Z\i wenD' es sicb 3um (3uten oDcr Sosen, Du scblanke /IRaiD, in ^reuen Denk' icb
Dein! JBebiit' Dicb 0ott, es war' 3U scbwi ge^
wesen, JBebiit' Dicb ©ott, es bat nicbt soilen sein I
Chor.
Kaum gefunden — schon getrennt! Weine, wer solch Leiden kennt!
Conradin (zu Werner).
Fasse Muth! die Zeit bringt Rath: Komm und sei bereit zur That.
Chor.
Armes, armes junges Paar, Ach, Avie kurz dein Gliick nun war! Trube Augen, Abschiednehmen, Scheidestunde bringst nur Griimen!
Maria.
Schoner Traum, vom Mai geboren, Bist mit ihm verweht — verloren!
21
ACT III. 8ofut(on ttiiD ©nO
(S[ai«c^ea-Pl^e (iour^^/aril ooimiri fRe ©Y^afF<t) of tRe S^aron'*^ (ia4>rfc.
FIRST SCENE.
Margaretha.
I.
^^ lore ro&c out to tbe wiDc, wlDc worlD, Mitbout farewell to me saving,
® fair ^oung Sineer, © beart's ^eligbt!
® Sun tbat once ma&e ni^ life so brigbt, 3For tbee 5 am ever prating.
II.
% ecarcelg baO time in bis e^es to lool?, So 2:Q)Q\\ was tbe sweet Dream euDcD ;
©IILove, wbat maKetb tbg flame all so sweet?
€• Xove, wbr mal^est tbe beart so to beat?— 5t it breal^— it cannot be menDeD.
III.
TKHbere rides be now? ^be world is so wi&e,
©f deceptions so full and of strangers ; Bb me— batb be not to 3tals bied, TlClbere women are fair, and false beside,— Cod guard bim amid all dangers !
tTbe /llba^dagsjpestival.
Four Heralds.
Now heed, ye peoples, great and small, The message sent to near and far lands; And deck out gaily house and hall With wreaths of flowers and winded
garlands: There comes to-day, for joy and jest, A handsome, noble-hearted guest. Prince May comes with a goodly throng, So welcome him with shout and song.
^agsSong. I.
tTbere comes a ^outb of sweet renown, Bnd tbrougb tbe world be wanders ;
2lnd wbere be goes, up bill and down, 1be jog aud splendor squanders I
^be meads witb green are decfied out faic»
Cbe birds are singing evergwbere, Bnd blossom=snow \\\ sbowers jfalls down on grass and flowers.
$0 let us sing witb ringing sbout^ imitb beigb and balla beigb, ©—
^be flowers tbe^ all now blossom out» Jn love of gentle ^a^, © \
II.
J^oung /iRag be lifies tbis stir and noise,
Ibis bumor never loses ; Bud tbrougb tbe woods bums loud bis jogs
Zhz cbafer, if be cbooses. Bud from tbeir mossg beds spring out ITbe flowers of Spring all roundabout,
and lils=bell6 are ringing,
3^oung ^ag a welcome bringing !
III.
Bnd all now dream, at least wbo can,
©f jest and love's sweet ^earning, Bud mang a grag, but wortbg man,
^binks youtb again returning. 1f3e sbouts bis jog across tbe IRbine, © sweet sweetbeart, for tbee 3 pine.
Bud evergwbere tbere's cooing,
5n ^ag 'tis pleasant wooing t
So let us sing witb ringing sbout, "SClitb beigb and balla beigb, ©—
Z\iz flowers tbcg all now blossom out, 5n love of gentle /llbag, © !]
Festal March and Chorus.
MAY IDYLL. Pantomime and Dances.
'>.'>,
DRITTER AKT.
cJCoF \A\w^2/iX\a^i^ ho'Z- *^lVaftV i^vvb SHtaiH^c-'Tn' 6c* ^r.ci-fve^t>{ic^e-H- Scfvto^dCO'.
ERSTE SCENE.
I.
5et3t fst ex binaus In Me wcitc "CQclt, Ibat heinen BbecbieD gcnommcn, 2)u friscber Spielmann in IClalD un& afelD, 2)u Sonne, 5ie meinen ^ag erbellt, Wann wtret Du mir wieDer kommen?
II.
IRaum Da00 icb ibm recbt In Me Bugen ge*
scbaut, So i9t 5er C^raum ecbon beenDet ; — ® 5Ltebe, was fiibrst Du Me /IRenscben 3U*
samm', ® Xiebe, was scburst t»u Dte susse jflamm', 'iimenn so balD unD traurtg slcb's wenDetl
III.
mo 3iebt er bin? Die Welt ist so gross, 1bat Oer ^ucken so viel unD (3ef abren ; — Br wirD wobl gar In Das llSIlelscblanD geb'n, TUnD Die afrauen sinD Dort so talscb unD
scbon I ® mog' ibn &er Ibtmmel bewabren I
Vier Herolde.
Hort' an, ihr Volker dieser Welt, Die frohe Botschaft die wir kiinden, Und schmiicket festlich Haus und Zelt Mit Blumenzier und Laubgewinden; Es naht euch heut' zu kurzer Rast Ein hoher koniglicher Gast: Der Konig Wein zieht mit iins ein, Lasst ihn euch hochwillkommen sein!
Festmarsch und Chor
Chor. I.
Bs Kommt ein wun&ersamcr Iknab' 5t3t Durcb £)le Melt gegangen, TllnC) wo er gebt bergaut, bergab, Ibebt slcb ein ©last unD iprangen. 5n frlscbem (3riin stebt 3f elO unD ^bal» 2)ie IDogel singen all3umal, jEin :Blutbenscbnee unD TRcgen jfallt nleDer allerwegen.
2>'rum singen wlr Im MalO Dies XieD j^Rlt Ibeis un& ^ralale^jen, TlClir singen's, well es sprlesst unD blubt» Bis ©russ Dem jungen /llbaien.
II.
[Ben /Hbal ergotjt ©ebrumm unD Sunun,
5st Immer guter ILaune,
Brum scbwlrren Durcb Den Q:ann beruni
Die ilRalenkafer, braune,
lanD aus Dem /nboos wacbst scbnell berfuc
Ber 3f rubllngsblumen scbonste £ier,
Ble wcissen ©locftcn lauten
Ben /Dbalen ein mit 3f reuDen.
III.
5et3unDer Denftt, wer Immer ftann. But 1Rur3weil, Scber3 unD /iRlnne; /iRancb elnem grauen :f61cbermann ■HiQirD's wicDcr jung 3" Sinne. Br rutt biniibcr uber'n IRbcin : 1ber3llebster Scbat3, o lass micb ein ! 'duD biiben tout's unD Driibcu ; 5m ^al Da 1st gut liebcn !
B'rum singen vx^r Im MalD Dies XieD m\X 1bcl= uuD ^ralale^en, mir singen's, well es sprlesst uuD blUbt» Bis (Bruss Dem jungen ^alcn.]
MAI-IDYLLE.
PaJitomime mit Tanz.
23
THE TRUMPETER OF S A KING EN.
SECOND SCENE.
(The Baron and Count Wildenstein — after- wards the Countess. D.imian. The Sackingen alarm bells are heard.)
T/ie Baron.
Quick, good fellows! Close the gate! To the platform, up with the cannon! At the rascals take good aim; — Then the drawbridge raise! Unpleasant Work it is to shoot at a peasant.
Countess (coming from the castle).
Help! Dear Baron! From the mountains They come down in fearful masses, Halberds bearing — casques of iron —
The Baron atid Wildenstein.
Let them come! Full soon the asses Come within fair range to fire on;
Not so soon; Peasant hies him hence to croon!
Damian. Oh! they're shooting, near the woodshed!
Countess and Margaretha. Does that give you so much fright ?
Damian.
Shooting, no! Oh, that's all right — But don't like this precious bloodshed Closely with it all connected. When a bullet gets deflected.
Coufitess and Margaretha.
Ah! See the coward — see him shake — Just the man for me to take!
The Baron.
Hark! Ever nearer comes the din — Ye women, better go within!
Count of Wildenstei?i.
Hark! Ever nearer — what a joy! Show thyself a hero, boy!
Damian. Yes, my father!
Margaretha.
Here we'll stay, however hot Falls around us angry shot.
The Baron. Hark, the rascals asking That the Schloss to them be given.
Count Wildenstein and Chorus of Ti oopers^ They will have to pay most dearly.
The Baron. We're not so hard as that yet driv'n.
Coimt of Wildenstein.
My hero-son shall show them all How hard it is to climb the wall.
Damian. Yes, father.
The Baron. Younker Damian Is just for that the proper man!
Da?fiian. In truth, my colonel!
IVie Baron.
Buckle my pallash at the back: Then get inside my buffalo jerkin; Hear you: the gate they now attack —
Damian. Yes, everywhere there's danger lurking
The Baron.
Now drive the rascals toward the river. Let not escape a single peasant!
Damian.
Their yelling fairly makes one shiver; And shooting such is too unpleasant.
Chorus of Peasants (behind the scenes).
Coward ftnlgbts auD cowarD vassals, Xeavc your shelter bcbinD tbe castle's IRamparts, anO stve open battle, tTben we'll malie gour armor rattle: Out to the open fray!
The Baron, Count and Chorus of Troopers..
Now out to the fight! Like heroes ad- vancing, Each lance find its way to the traitor- ous breast; Not long 'round the ramparts they'll keep up their dancing; They'll find they went out on a danger- ous jest — Now to the fray!
23
THE TRUMPETER OF SACKING EN.
ZWEITE SCENE.
Der Freiherr und Graf Wildenstein; gleich darauf die Grafin. Damian,
Freihei'r.
Schnell, ihr Knechte, schliesst das Thor! Zur Plattform mit den Karthaunen! Nehmt die Bauern scharf aufs Rohr; — Zieht die Zugbriick' auf! zu schirmen Gilt's das Schloss jetzt vor den Bauern!
Grafin.
Helft, Herr Schwager ! Aus dem
Schwarzwald Kommen sie in hellen Haufen, Hellebarden, Pickelhauben —
Freiherr und Graf von Wildenstein.
Lasst sie kommen ! Mogt uns glauben :
SoUen air im Rhein ersaufen;
Nicht so bald
Kehr' ein Bauer heim zum Wald !
Damian. Ach ! ich glaube gar, sie schiessen !
Grafin und Maria. 1st das Euch so unbequem ?
Damian.
Schiessen is mir wohl genehm, Aber nicht das Blutvergiessen, Das so leicht damit verbunden, Da die Kugeln oft verwunden.
Grafin und Maria.
Ha, seht doch diesen Feigling an, Das war' mir just der rechte Mann !
Freiherr.
Hort ! naher riicken sie schon an; Ihr Frauen, geht ins Schloss hinan !
Graf von Wildenstein.
Horch ! naher riicken sie schon an ; Jetzt zeig' als Held dich, Damian !
Damian.
J a, mein Vater.
Maria.
Lasst uns bleiben! Nicht ins Schloss, Denn ich fiirchte kein Geschoss ! —
Freiherr.
Hort, es verlangt die Bauernrotte, Dass wir das Schloss ihr iibergeben.
Graf von Wildenstein und Chor der Reiter.
Erkaufe sie's mit ihrem Leben !
Freiherr.
Nimm das zur Antwort, freche Rotte!
Graf von Wildenstein.
Mein tapf rer Sohn soil ihnen zeigen, Wie schwer die Mauern zu ersteigen.
Damian. J a, Vater,
Freiherr. Junker Damian, Der ist dazu der rechte Mann !
Damian. Ja wohl, Herr Oberst.
Freiherr.
Schnallt Junker, meinen Pallasch an Und werft Euch in den BiiffelkoUer : Ihr hort, der Sturm vor'm Thorbegann.
Damian. Ach ja, sie schiessen immer toller.
Freiherr.
Ihr sollt die Bauern so verjagen, Dass sie den Spass nie wieder wagen.
Damian.
Ach, diirft' ich es ihm doch nur sagen : Ich kann das Schiessen nicht vertragen.
Chor der Bauern.
Scblccbte IRitter, scblecbte Iknecbte, Slt3en binter festen /Hbauecn, IRommt 3um cbrlicben (Befecbte, TKIlenn Vox. ilftutb babt, wlc wir JSauern ! Heraus denn zur Schlacht !
Freiherr, Graf und Chor der Landsknechte.
Wohlauf denn zur Schlacht! die Lanzen
erhoben !
Dem Feinde geboten die tapfere Brust ;
Sie sollen nicht Uinger die Mauern vim-
toben,
Zu siegen, zu sterben ist krieg'rische
Lust !
Wohlauf denn zur Schlacht !
23
THE TRUMPETER OF SACKINGEN.
THIRD SCENE.
(The Baron, Count of Wildenstein, Marga- retha, the Countess, and a few of the vassals.)
The Baron Just hark! The rascals battle hard !
Count of Wildenstein.
Give heed, before my Damian's sword ! He'll show you quickly who is lord.
The Baron.
Ei, truly ! greater joy were mine Were he not Count of Wildenstein.
Damian. (loud knocking is heard at the gate.)
Oh, quick ! Make wide ! And let me in!
The Baron (surprised).
Count, do you hear' — Let him within !
(They open the gate.)
FOURTH SCENE.
Damian. (rushing in.)
O horror, father, this plebeian horde, Don't understand the way of fighting
proper; They hew'd my helmet off ; my doublet
siash'd. And split my pallash with a common
chopper.
The Baron.
Eagles would not get their claws cut If before, they were not caught. Forward ! Fall in battle rather Than by rascals such be captured.
The Troops.
Forward ! Fall in battle rather Than by rascals such be captured.
FIFTH SCENE. Werner appears with Conradin.
The Baron, Count of Wildenstein, Countess
and Troopers.
(greeting Werner joyously.)
Hail, O Werner! Hail, O Victor!
Through him all was done.
And vict'ry won! Praise and thanks, thou bugler bravest.
Margareiha.
Thou here, my beloved Werner? Here once more! O joy divine!
Werner.
Margaretha, thou my glory! Margaretha, sweetest, mine!
Margaretha.
Gracious heav'n! See! He's wounded! Look you, look, like rich red roses Wells forth from his arm the blood.
(the Countess hastens to Werner, whose doublet is being unfastened.)
Conradin.
What is this I here discover? — Countess, see! A birthmark here Just like yours.
The Countess.
Gracious heaven! Aid me! On me Heaven have mercy!— Ah! My son — and wounded —
The Baron.
And my daughter the reward ;- For the coward Damian Ne'er can be my son-in-law!
Damian.
Come, my father! — I wont whine — Let's ride again to Wildenstein!
Count and Countess of Wildenstein.
In Heaven's name! But Wildenstein, Will go to him, in rightful line.
Countess and Maria.
O how my heart now thrills with bliss. Into newly waken'd glory!
Conradin.
® IRbinelanD's cbilOren, is not tbls 21 ver^, vers curious storg ?
(Citizens, men and women, arrive.) Chorus of Citizens.
See, yoving Werner — our deliverer! From the foe the town he free'd! Drove the peasant to his mountains. Thank him, praise his glorious deed!
24
THE TRUMPETER OF SACKINGEN.
DRITTE SCENE.
(Der Freiherr, Graf von Wildenstein, Maria und die Grafin, wenige Knechte.)
Freiherr. Hort an, wie sich der Bauer wehrt !
Graf von Wildenstein.
Gebt Acht ! vor meines Sohnes Schwert Macht ihre Schaar bald rechtsum kehrt.
Freiherr.
Ei freilich ! wiird' es anders sein, War' er kein Graf von Wildenstein.
Datnian
Macht auf ! — macht auf und lasst mich
ein !
Freiherr. Hort Ihr es, Graf ? — So lasst ihn ein !
VIERTE SCENE.
Damian.
Tax Hilfe, Vater! dies gemeine Volk Versteht nicht einmal regelrecht zu
fechten, Hat mir den Helm zerhau'n, das Wamms
zerfetzt Und schlug mir selbst den Pallasch aus
der Rechten !
Freiherr.
Keiner stutzt dem Aar die Krallen, Ohne ihn vorher zu fangen, Vorwiirts ! besser ehrlich fallen, Als von solchem Volk gefangen!
Die Reiter.
Vorwiirts ! besser ehrlich fallen, Als von solchem Volk gefangen !
FUENFTE SCENE. Werner erscheint mit Conradin.
Freiherr, Graf von Wildenstein, Grafin und Chor der Reiter.
(Werner freudig begriissend.)
Heil dem Tapfern ! Heil dem Sieger !
Der des Feindes Hand
Uns entwand ; —
Heil und Dank euch, tapf 're Krieger !
Maria.
Du hier, mein geliebter Werner? Welches Gliick ! Ich fass' es kaum !
Werner.
O Maria, du mein Leben ! O Maria, du mein Traum !
Maria.
Heil'ger Gott, er ist verwundet ! — Seht nur, seht, wie junge Rosen, Quillt aus seinem Arm das Blut.
Co7iradin.
Doch was muss ich hier entdecken ? Grafin — seht ! Ein Mai am Arme, Just wie Eures —
Grafin.
Freude ! Schrecken ! Helft mir ! dass sich Gott erbarme ! Ach, mein Sohn — verwundet
Freiherr.
Und Maria wird dein Lohn ; Denn den feigen Damian Nehm' ich nie zum Eidam an !
Damian.
Kommt, Herr Vater ! — Ich packe ein Und reite zuriick nach Wildenstein.
Graf und Grafin von Wildenstein.
In Gottes Namen ! doch Wildenstein. Wird nun dem rechten Erben sein.
Grafin und Maria.
Ach, wie mein Herz voll Freude bebt, Als fuhlt's sein Gliick erwachen.
Conradin.
© TRbclncsftlnDer, man cricbt Docb sonDerbarlicbc Sacben :
(Biirger und Blirgerinnen kommen.)
Chor der Biirger und Bilrgerinnen.
Seht, da ist er — unser Retter, Der die Stadt vom Feind befreit Und die Bauern in die Fluch trieb : Dank und Preis sei ihm geweiht !
24
THE TRUMPETER OF SACKINGEN.
|
Werner. |
Werner. |
|
IDoung Werner is surely tbe bappicst man, 3rn all tbis vviDe realm IRoinan ; :l6ut wbere be all bis great jog won, 1be sags in vvor&s to no man— 1be onig sags witb a Ibip ! Iburrab ! 1bovv wondrous beautiful is ^ag— ^rue Xove, % give tbee greeting ! |
5ung merner ist Der gluckseligste ^ann 5m romiscben IRcicb geworden; 2)ocb wer ^ziw ©lUck ibm angetban, Das sagt er nicbt mlt Morten — ©as sagt er nur mit Ibci Jucbei ! — Mie wunderscbon ist docb der ^ai, ^einslieb, icb tbu' dicb grUssen ! |
|
Margaretha and Werner. |
Maria und Werner. |
|
tTrue Xove, % give tbee greeting ! Thus to love, with love unending, Loving and belov'd to be; Two souls with each other blending — That is true love's victory! |
3f einslieb, icb tbu' dicb grUssen ! So unendlich heiss zu lieben, Lieben und geliebt zu sein, So mit ganzer Seele lieben. Das ist Seligkeit allein ! |
|
General Chorus. |
Allgemeiner Schlusschor. |
|
ffaitbful love and bugle blowing, ■mseful are tull oft in life ; jfaitbful love and bugle blowing, B'en can win a noble wife. Jaitbful love and bugle blowing, :Sring to alt sucb jog as wben, l^oung Sir ICGlerner blew bis bugle, ©n tbe Kbine at Sackingen! |
Hiebe und tTrompetenblasen IRiitscn 3U viel guten Dingen, Xiebe und ^rompctenblasen $elbst ciw ad'lig ICleib erringen ; Xiebe und G;rompetenbla8en, iflftog' es 5edem so gelingen Mie dcm Iberrn ^rompeter Werner Bn dem IRbeine ^xa $acKingen! |
I
END OF THE OPERA.
25
Selected from the Numerous Testimonials in possession of
WM. KNABE & CO.
Messrs. Wm. Knabe & Co.
Gentlemen : I have great pleasure in certifying that I have tried your Square Pianos, and find them equal, if not superior, to any in this country. Among the great qualities which distinguish them is the evenness of tone, the easy and agreeable touch and volume of tone. Wishing you all the success which you so highly deserve, I am, sirs.
Yours very truly, ___^_ S. THALBERG.
After having played on the piano of Messrs. Knabe & Co., it is impossible not to bear testimony to the qualities which have acquired for them the eminent reputation which they enjoy. The pianos of their manufacture on which I have played are exceedingly remarkable for their qualities of to7ie. The bass is powerful, without harshness, and the upper notes sweet, clear and harmoniously mellow, (crystalline,) and I do not hesitate to express, in regard to these instruments, my entire satisfaction, and to declare that they are equal, if not superior, to the best manufactured in Europe or this country by the most celebrated makers.
L. M. GOTTSCHALK.
Messrs. Wm. Knabe & Co., Baltimore.
Gentlemen : It gives me pleasure to state that the Grand Pianos, upon which I played at the houses of several of my friends in this city, are instruments of the very first merit. The quality of tone is remarkable for its prolongation — singing quality — combining both sweetness and great power. The action very easy, and at the same time elastic, enables the artist to vary the tone from the greatest softness to the most powerful fortissimo by the touch alone. Allow me, gentlemen, to congratulate you on the perfection which you have attained in your instru- ments. I regret that you were not represented at the Exposition Universelle, as your name would certainly have added additional honor and success to American Industry and skill. Accept my most cordial regards. (Signed), MARMONTEL,
Professor of the Conservatory of Music, Paris.
Messrs. Wm. Knabe & Co.
Gentlemen : With great pleasure I give you my opinion of your instruments, as it is not difficult to praise what is really perfect and excellent, and these predicates I have to give to your instruments. This solidity and durability of construction, this power, beauty and equal- ness of tone, this easiness, elasticity and infallibility of the action of your pianos, can hardly be reached, and not be surpassed, by any other piano. I only add that I was satisfied in the high- est degree by my frequent use of your Concert Grands last season, and that I have decided to continue to use your famous instruments for my future public renditions.
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The Grand Pianos, by Messrs. Knabe & Co., are remarkable both for touch and tone, while the ingenious addition of the third or sustaining pedal enables the performer to produce effects of a very novel and interesting character. London, November 4, 1S78 BRINLEY RICHARDS.
Messrs. Wm. Knabe & Co., New York and Baltimore.
Gentlemen:— I take pleasure to state that the Pianos of your manufacture deserve fully the fame they have acquired throughout the world. Your instruments— Grands, Squares and Uprights— are perfect in power and sweetness of tone ; remarkable for the easy and even touch 'y in fact, first-class in every respect.
Nezv York, August, 1882. DR. LEOPOLD DAMROSCH.
\
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UCLA - Music Library
ML 50 N468 T72 1887
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LIBRARY
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N468T72 1887
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