Arianna a Naxos

QH/ 7

Joseph Haydn (1732-1809)

Arianna a Naxos

After the first London performance of Arianna a Naxos - by the castrato Pacchiarotti with Haydn himself at the piano in 1791 - The Morning Chronicle predicted that it would be “the musical desideratum of the winter.” In fact, its popularity lasted much longer than that, as Lady Hamilton confirmed when she was persuaded to sing the cantata, to the composer’s accompaniment, on her visit to Eisenstadt with Lord Nelson nine years later. She was either a very accomplished or a very courageous singer.

Between the E flat major beginning of the cantata and the F minor ending there are two recitatives, two arias, much pathos and no little virtuoso vocal display. The first aria is a Largo in B flat major (Dove sei mio bel tesoro?), with a dramatic middle section reaching a climax on A flat major. In the reprise there is a more intimate, almost Schubertian effect as the harmonies slip briefly into the tonic minor. Although there was a similar intimation of the ultimate tragedy in the introductory recitative, at this stage Arianna is unaware that Theseus has abandoned her. It is only in the next recitative, when she climbs onto the rocks - to the accompaniment of an extraordinary sequence of chords on the piano - that she sees the Greek ship sailing away. She expresses her grief in a short F major Larghetto (Ah che morir verrei) and a precipitous Presto coda (Misera abbandonata).

Arianna a Naxos

[The action takes place on a seashore surrounded by rocks. We see Theseus’ ship pulling far away from the sand, and the sleeping Ariadne, who wakes little by little.]

recitative:

Teseo mi ben,

dove sei tu?

Vicino d’averti mi parea,

ma un lusinghiero sogno fallace m’ingannò.

Già sorge in ciel la rose Aurora,

e l’erbe ei fior colora Febo

uscendo dal mar col crine aurato.

Sposo adorato, dove guidasti il piè?

Forse le fere ad inseguirti chiama il tuo nobile ardor.

Ah vieni, O caro,

ed offriro più grata preda a tuoi lacci.

Il cor d’Arianna amante, che t’adora constante,

stringi con nodo più tenace

e più bella la face splenda dal nostro amor.

Soffrir non posso

d’esser da te divisa un sol istante.

Ah di vederti, O caro, già mi strugge il desio.

Ti sospira il mio cuor.

Vieni, idol mio.

aria:

Dove sei, mio bel tesoro?

Chi t’invola a questo cor?

Se non vieni, io già mi moro,

ne resisto al mio dolor.

Si pietade avete, O Dei,

secondate I voti miei;

a me torni il caro ben.

Dove sei? Teseo!

recitative:

Ma, a chi parlo?

Gli accenti eco ripete sol.

Teseo non m’ode,

Teseo non mi risponde,

e portano le voci l’aure e l’onde.

andante:

Poco de me lontano esser egli dovria.

Salgasi quello che piu d’ogni altro salza alpestre scoglio:

I vi lo scoprirò.

Che miro?

O stelle!

Misera me!

Questè l’argivo legno.

Greci son quelli.

Teseo!

Ei sull prora!

Ah m’ingannasse almen…

no, no, non m’inganno.

Ei fugge,

ei qui mi lascia in abbandono.

Più speranza non v’e, tradita io sono.

Teseo, Teseo, m’ascolta, Teseo!

Ma oime! Vaneggio.

I fluti e il vento lo involano per sempre agli occhi mei.

Ah, siete ingiusti, O Dei

se l’empio non punite.

Ingrato! Perchè ti trassi dalla morte?

Dunque to dove vi tradirmi?

E le promesse, e giuramenti tuoi?

Spergiuro! Infido!

Hai cor di lasciarmi?

adagio:

A chi mi volgo?

Da chi pietà sperar?

Già più non reggo:

il piè vacilla,

E in cosi amaro istante

sento m’ancarmi in sen l’alma tremante.

aria:

Ah che morir verrei

in si fatal momento,

ma al mio crudel tormento

mi serba ingiusto il ciel.

presto:

Misera abbandonata,

non ho chi mi consola.

Chi tanto amai s’inivola,

barbaro ed infedel.

recitative:

Theseus mine

where are you?

It seems that you are nearby,

but I am deceived by a flattering dream.

Already rosy Aurora is dawning in the sky,

and Phoebus is colouring the grass and the flowers

as he emerges from the sea with his golden hair.

Adored husband, where are your footsteps leading you?

Perhaps the hunting of wild beasts claims your noble ardour.

Ah come to me, my dearest,

and I shall offer your snares a more welcome prey.

Arianna’s loving heart, which adores you faithfully,

intensifies with a more lasting and lovelier knot

the splendour of our love.

I cannot suffer

separation from you for a single instant.

Ah beloved, I am consumed by the longing to see you.

My heart sighs for you.

Come my idol.

aria:

Where are you, my darling?

Who has stolen you from my heart?

If you do not come I shall surely die,

unable to resist my grief.

If you have pity, O Gods,

help me now

and return my darling to me.

Where are you? Theseus!

recitative:

But who am I talking to?

Only the echoes answer me.

Theseus does not hear me;

Theseus does not answer me,

and my voice is carried away by the winds and the waves.

andante:

He cannot be too far away.

I shall climb to the top of these rugged rocks;

I shall find him.

What do I see?

O heavens!

Misery me!

There is the wooden ship.

Those men are Greeks.

Theseus!

He is on the prow!

If only I were wrong…

no, I am not deceived.

He flees,

and leaves me abandoned here.

There is no hope for me, I am betrayed.

Theseus, Theseus, hear me, Theseus!

Alas, I am delirious.

The tide and the wind are stealing him from my eyes forever.

Ah, you are unjust, you Gods,

if you do not punish his faithlessness.

Ingrate! Why do you draw away from death!

How could you betray me?

And your promises, your vows?

Perjurer! Traitor!

Have you the heart to leave me?

adagio:

To whom can I turn?

From whom can I hope for pity?

I can bear no more:

my step falters,

and in this bitter moment,

I feel my trembling soul leave me.

aria:

Ah, I would like to die

in this fatal moment,

but I am kept in cruel torment

by the unjust heavens.

presto:

Wretched and abandoned,

I have no one to console me.

He whom I loved so much has left me,

barbarous and unfaithful one.

Claude Debussy (1862-1918)

Chansons de Bilitis

La Flûte de Pan

La Chevelure

Le Tombeau des Naïdes

When Pierre Louÿs published his Chansons de Bilitis in 1895 he claimed that the poems were “translated from the Greek” - a pretence which was taken so seriously by some his contemporaries that a party of antiquarians set off for Greece in search of authentic traces of Bilitis, alleged contemporary of Sapho, and her manuscripts. The fact is, of course, that the poems were written by Louÿs himself. He had found his inspiration not in Lesbos but in Biskra where he had fallen for a dancer called Meriem ben Atala: “amber-skinned, firm-fleshed, her figure was round but still almost childish, for she was barely sixteen,” recalled André Gide who was with Louÿs at the time.

As an intimate friend of the poet, Debussy knew all about this. Indeed, he had met Meriem’s sister Zohra whom Louÿs had brought from Biskra to live with him in Paris. Questions of Greek authenticity were of little importance to the composer. What attracted him to the poems was their erotic quality, certainly, but also some very clear parallels with his own artistic interests. Louÿs’s La Flûte de Pan, for example, has much in common - in subject matter if not in quality - with the Mallarmé poem which had inspired Debussy’s Prélude à L’Après-midi d’un Faune a few years earlier. His treatment of La Flûte de Pan is different above all in that its affectation of antiquity requires an equivalent gesture in the music. As in the Prélude, the pan-pipe makes its entry in the first bar but here it is tuned in the Lydian mode, characteristics of which persist and mingle intimately with whole-tone elements until the sound of the frogs breaks the spell.

The obvious parallel to La Chevelure is the scene in the third act of Pelléas et Mélisande, where Mélisande lets down her hair to Pelléas from her window in the tower. But this is an account of a dream recollected in tranquillity and precious to Bilitis not so much for her lover’s passion - powerfully expressed though it is - as for the “frisson” inspired in her by his tenderness and represented in the piano part by the quietly dissonant harmonies which both evoke the memory of the dream and dissolve it.

Le Tombeau des Naïades, written nine months later than the other two in March 1898, is contrastingly bleak. If it has a parallel with anything else in Debussy’s work it is with the then unwritten Des pas sur la neige in the first book of Préludes. Like the Prélude, the song begins with an ostinato rhythm on icy minor harmonies but with the entry of Pan the temperature rises and, although the ostinato reappears near the end, it is finally deflected into the major.

La Flûte de Pan

Pour le jour des Hyacinthies,

Il m’a donné une syrinx faite

De roseaux bien taillés,

Unis avec la blanche cire

Qui est douce à mes lèvres comme le miel.

Il m’apprend à jouer, assise sur ses genoux;

Mais je suis un peu tremblante.

Il en joue après moi, si doucement

Que je l’entends à peine.

Nous n’avons rien à nous dire,

Tant nous sommes près l’un de l’autre;

Mais nos chansons veulent se répondre,

Et tour à tour nos bouches

S’unissent sur la flûte.

Il est tard;

Voici le chant des grenouilles vertes

Qui commence avec la nuit.

Ma mère ne croira jamais

Que je suis restée si longtemps

À chercher ma ceinture perdue.

La chevelure

Il m’a dit: «Cette nuit, j’ai rêvé.

J’avais ta chevelure autour de mon cou.

J’avais tes cheveux comme un collier noir

Autour de ma nuque et sur ma poitrine.

Je les caressais, et c’étaient les miens;

Et nous étions liés pour toujours ainsi,

Par la même chevelure, la bouche sur la bouche,

Ainsi que deux lauriers n’ont souvent qu’une racine.

Et peu à peu, il m’a semblé,

Tant nos membres étaient confondus,

Que je devenais toi-même,

Ou que tu entrais en moi comme mon songe.»

Quand il eut achevé,

Il mit doucement ses main sur mes épaules,

Et il me regarda d’un regard si tendre,

Que je baissai les yeux avec un frisson.

Le tombeau des Naïades

Le long du bois couvert de givre, je marchais;

Mes cheveux devant ma bouche

Se fleurissaient de petits glaçons,

Et mes sandales étaient lourdes

De neige fangeuse et tassée.

Il me dit: «Que cherches-tu?»

«Je suis la trace du satyre.»

Ses petits pas fourchus alternent

Comme des trous dans un manteau blanc.

Il me dit: «Les satyres sont morts.

Les satyres et les nymphes aussi.

Depuis trente ans, il n’a pas fait un hiver aussi terrible.

La trace que tu vois est celle d’un bouc.

Mais restons ici, où est leur tombeau.»

Et avec le fer de sa houe il cassa la glace

De la source où jadis riaient les naïades.

Il prenait de grands morceaux froids,

Et les soulevant vers le ciel pâle,

Il regardait au travers.

(Pierr Louÿs)

Pan’s Pipes

For Hyacinth’s day,

he gave me a syrinx fashioned

from well cut reeds,

bonded with the white wax

which is as sweet as honey to my lips.

He teaches me to play, sitting on his knee;

but I am trembling a little.

He plays it after me, so gently

that I can scarcely hear it.

We have nothing to say,

so close are we to each other;

but our melodies will converse,

and our mouths take their turns

in meeting on the flute.

It is late;

Here is the song of the green frogs

which begins when night falls.

My mother will never believe

that I stayed out so long

looking for the belt I lost.

My hair

He said to me: “I had a dream tonight.

I had your hair round my neck.

I had your hair like a black necklace

round my neck and on my chest.

I caressed it and it was my hair;

and we were linked for ever like this,

by this hair, mouth on mouth,

just as two laurels often have only one root.

And it more and more seemed to me,

our limbs were so confused,

that I was becoming you,

or that you were entering me like my dream.”

Whe he had finished,

he gently put his hands on my shoulders,

and he looked at me with such a tender look,

that I lowered my eyes with a shudder.

The Naiads’ Tomb

I walked along the frosty wood;

the hair blown in front of my mouth

was flowering with little drops of ice,

and my sandals were heavy

with caked and muddy snow.

He said to me: “What are you looking for?”

“I am following the track of the satyr.”

His cloven little footprints alternate

like holes in a white coat.

He said to me: “The satyrs are dead.

The satyrs and the nymphs as well.

For thirty years there hasn’t been such a terrible winter.

The track you see is a goat’s.

But let’s stay here, at their tomb.”

And with the blade of his hoe he broke the ice

of the spring where naiads once laughed.

He took some big cold pieces,

and raising them towards the pale sky,

he looked through them.

Richard Strauss (1864-1949)

Four Songs

Die nacht, Op.10, No.3

Zueignung, Op.10, No.1

Befreit, Op.39, No.4 - was orch 1933

Cäcilie, Op.27, No.2

Strauss was little over twenty when he completed the Acht Gedichte, Op.10, his first published set of songs. Bearing that in mind - together with the not very exciting quality of the texts chosen from the late work of the Tyrolean poet Hermann von Gilm zu Rosenegg - it would not be at all surprising if they were merely conventional settings with nothing much to distinguish them from so many others of their kind and of their time. In fact, although the young Strauss was clearly not averse to the conventional gesture, there are anticipations of the mature composer in every song in the set: the seductively shaped melody which opens Die Nacht, and which recurs in varying harmonic circumstances in each of the four stanzas, is just one example. As for Zueignung, with its impulsive rhythms and soaring vocal line, it is not only unmistakable Richard Strauss - in spite of its Wagnerian associations - but also one of the most popular songs he ever wrote.

Written in 1898, the Fünf Lieder, Op.39, are thirteen years more sophisticated than the Acht Gesänge, Op.10. Even so, the author of Befreit, Richard Dehmel, was unhappy with Strauss’s setting, which he seems to have considered too sentimental. It is difficult, on the other hand, to imagine a more truthful reflection - with sentimentality for the most part deflected by the sensitivity of the modulations - of Dehmel’s paradoxically joyful Liebestod. Strauss, who was to make a significant allusion to the recurring line “O Glück” in Ein Heldenleben, clearly had no doubts about the quality of his setting.

Cäcilie, one of Vier Lieder, Op.27, dedicated to Pauline Strauss as a wedding present in 1894, is said to have been written in a few hours on the very eve of the ceremony. Its ecstatic vocal line and its sweeping momentum - discreetly but effectively held back by changes in harmony and colour in the central stanza - certainly suggest that Hart’s declaration to his wife Cäcilie found an immediate and spontaneous response in the composer.

Die Nacht

Aus dem Walde tritt die Nacht,

aus den Bäumen schleicht sie leise,

schaut sich um in weitem Kreise,

nun gib acht.

Alle Lichter dieser Welt,

alle Blumen, alle Farben

löscht sie aus und stiehlt die Garben

weg vom Feld.

Alles nimmt sie, was nur hold,

nimmt das Silber weg des Stroms,

nimmt vom Kupferdach des Doms

weg das Gold.

Ausgeplündert steht der Strauch,

rücke näher, Seel’ an Seele;

O die Nacht, mir bangt, sie stehle

dich mir auch.

(Hermann von Gilm)

Night

From the forest night has stepped,

out of the trees it quietly creeps,

looks round in a wide circle,

now take care.

All the light in the world,

all the flowers, all the colours

it extinguishes and it steals the sheaves

from the fields.

It takes everything that is lovely,

takes the silver from the river,

from the copper roof of the cathedral

takes the gold.

The bushes have been robbed,

come nearer, soul to soul;

O I’m afraid that night will steal

you from me too.

Zueignung

Ja, du weißt es, teure Seele,

daß ich fern von dir mich quäle,

Liebe macht die Herzen krank,

habe Dank.

Einst hielt ich, der Freizeit Zecher,

hoch den Amethysten Becher

un du segnetest den Trank,

habe Dank.

Und beschworst darin die Bösen,

Bis ich, was ich nie gewesen,

heilig, heilig ans Herz dir sank,

habe Dank.

(Hermann von Gilm)

Dedication

Yes, you know, dear soul,

that far from you I am in torment,

love makes the heart sick -

thanks be to you.

Once, revelling in freedom,

I raised high the amethyst cup

and you blessed the drink -

thanks be to you.

And you exorcised the evils in it,

till I, as never before,

holy, holy sank on your heart -

thanks be to you.

Befreit

Du wirst nicht weinen. Leise, leise

Wirst du lächeln und wie zur Reise

Geb’ ich dir Blick und Kuß zurück.

Unsre lieben vier Wände, du hast sie bereitet,

Ich habe sie dir zur Welt geweitet;

O Glück!

Dann wirst du heiß meine Hände fassen

Und wirst mir deine Seele lassen,

Läßt unsern Kindern mich zurück.

Du schenktest mir dein ganzes Leben,

Ich will es ihnen wieder geben;

O Glück!

Es wird sehr bald sein, wir wissen’s beide;

Wir haben einander befreit vom Leide,

So geb’ ich dich der Welt zurück.

Dann wirst du mir nur noch im Traum erscheinen,

Und mich segnen und mit mir weinen;

O Glück!

(Richard Dehmel)

Set free

You will not weep. Quietly, quietly

You will smile and just as before a journey

I will return your look and your kiss.

Our four walls, you furnished them,

I made them as wide as the world for you;

O joy!

Then you will passionately clasp my hands

and leave your soul with me,

leave me behind with our children.

You gave me your whole life,

I will give it back to them;

O joy!

It will be soon, we both know that;

we have set each other free from suffering,

So I will give you back to the world,

Then I will see you again only in dreams,

and bless me and weep with me;

O joy!

Cäcilie

Wenn du es wüßtest, was träumen heißt

von brennenden Küssen,

von Wandern und Ruhen

mit der Geliebten, Aug’ in Auge,

und kosend und plaudernd,

wenn du es wüßtest, du neigtest dein Herz!

Wenn du es wüßtest, was bangen heißt

in einsamen Nächten,

umschauert vom Sturm,

da niemand tröstet milden Mundes

die kampfmüde Seele,

wenn du es wüßtest, du kämest zu mir.

Wenn du es wüßtest, was leben heißt,

umhaucht von der Gottheit

weltschaffendem Atem,

zu schweben empor, lichtgetragen,

zu seligen Höhn,

wenn du es wüßtest, du lebtest mit mir!

(Heinrich Hart)

Cecilia

If only you knew what it means to dream

of burning kisses,

of wandering and resting

with the beloved, eye to eye,

and caressing and chatting,

if only you knew, your heart would incline to me!

If only you knew what it means to be afraid

on lonely nights,

shuddering in the storm,

when no one has a kind word

to comfort the battle-weary soul,

if only you knew, you would come to me.

If only you knew, what it means to live

in the divine breath

that created the world,

to soar up, carried by the light,

to sublime heights,

if only you knew, you would live with me!

Gustav Mahler (1860-1911)

Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen

Wenn mein Schatz Hochzeit macht

Ging heut Morgen über’s Feld

Ich hab’ ein glühen Messer

Die zwei blauen Augen

The Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen originated in a series of six poems written by Mahler when he was an unhappy staff conductor at the opera house in Cassel in 1884. Addressed to Johanna Richter - an attractive though apparently not very gifted soprano in the company - they refer to the poet as a “fahrender Geselle,” a term chosen by Mahler presumably for its associations with the romantic image of the wanderer poet and its relevance to his own status as a “journeyman”

musician. It was only towards the end of the affair with Johanna that he chose four of the poems to set to music and it was only in 1897, when he had completed the orchestral version, that the work was published.

The literary style adopted by Mahler for these songs is close to that of his favourite collection of folksongs, Des Knaben Wunderhorn - remarkably close considering that he is said not to have discovered the anthology until 1888. The first of them is actually compiled from two of the poems in Des Knaben Wunderhorn. His setting of the first part of Wenn mein Schatz, based on the poignant contrast between the outside world and the inner self, alternates two different tempi - the wedding tempo which introduces the song and the very much slower reflective tempo adopted by the lonely love-lorn poet. At the beginning of the second part, where he looks to nature for comfort and where the wedding dance mingles with the bird song, the key changes from D minor to an unrealistic E flat major. Inevitably, the key returns to D minor and the lover to his isolation.

Ging heut Morgen sets him in a similar situation. The key now is a radiant D major and the melody (used again later in the First Symphony) is cheerful, while the accompanying colours are bright with birdsong and bluebells. The whole effect is heightened when, with the sun sparkling on the scene, the key changes to B major. It is only in the last three lines of the song that the lover turns his attention from the outside world to his own inner self. The tempo slows down; the key changes to an uncertain F sharp major; and he answers his own modest question in the negative.

He touches on the depth of despair in Ich hab’ ein glühend Messer, which plunges the tonality immediately back into D minor. The pain so vividly expressed in the piano harmonies is scarcely relieved by memories. On the contrary, they inspire the death wish which so chillingly ends the song in E flat minor. The E minor funeral march at the beginning of Die zwei blauen Augen is a natural consequence. However, it carries the unhappy lover not to his grave but, with a lovely modulation from C minor to F major, to consolation in the bosom of nature (this section too he used in the First Symphony). The conflict between the outside world and the inner self is resolved in a shower of petals from the maternal lime tree. The funereal F minor cadences are no more than a distant echo.

Wenn mein Schatz Hochzeit macht

Wenn mein Schatz Hochzeit macht,

Fröhliche Hochzeit macht,

Hab’ ich meinen traurigen Tag!

Geh’ ich in mein Kämmerlein,

Dunkles Kämmerlein!

Weine! Wein’! Um meinen Schatz,

Um meinen lieben Schatz!

Blümlein blau! Blümlein blau!

Verdorre nicht, verdorre nicht!

Vöglein süss! Vöglein süss!

Du singst auf grüner Haide!

Ach! Wie ist die Welt so schön!

Ziküth! Ziküth! Ziküth!

Singet nicht! Blühet nicht!

Lenz ist ja vorbei!

Alles Singen ist nun aus!

Des Abends wenn ich schlafen geh’,

denk ich an mein Leid’

- an mein Leide!

My sweetheart’s wedding day,

Happy wedding day,

Is a sad day for me!

I go to my little room,

My dark little room!

I weep! weep for my sweetheart,

For my dear sweetheart!

Little blue flower! Little blue flower!

Do not wither! Do not wither!

Sweet little bird! Sweet little bird!

Singing on the heath

Oh! how beautiful the world is!

Twitter! Twitter! Twitter!

Don’t sing! Don’t bloom!

Spring is over!

There’s no more singing now!

In the evening, when I go to sleep,

I think of my sorrow!

Of my sorrow!

Ging heut Morgen über’s Feld

Ging heut Morgen über’s Feld,

Tau noch auf den Gräsern hing,

Sprach zu mir der lust’ge Fink:

“Ei, du! Gelt?

Guten Morgen! Ei, Gelt? Du!

Wird’s nicht eine schöne Welt?

Schöne Welt?

Kling! Kling! Kling! Kling!

Schönes Ding!

Wie mir doch die Welt gefällt! Hei - ah!”

Und da fing im SonnenscheIn

Gleich die Welt zu funkeln an;

Alles, Alles, Ton und Farbe gewann!

Im Sonnenschein!

Blum’ und Vogel, gross und klein!

Guten Tag! Guten Tag!

Ist’s nicht eine schöne Welt?

Ei, du! Gelt? Ei, du! Gelt?

Schöne Welt!

“Nun fängt auch mein Glück wohl an?!

Nein! Nein! Das ich mein’

Mir nimmer, nim mer blühen kann!”

I went across the fields this morning,

When dew was still on the grass,

And a cheerful finch said to me:

“Hi, you there! How are you?

Good morning! Hi, how are you?

Isn’t it going to be a lovely world today?

Lovely world?

Cheep! Cheep!

Lovely and lively!

How I love the world!”

And the bluebells by the field,

The happy, pretty things,

With their little bells,

Klingaling! Klingaling!

Rang their morning greetings:

“Isn’t it going to be a lovely world today?

Lovely world?

Klingaling! Klingaling!

Beautiful thing!

How I love the world! Hey Ho!”

And then in the sunshine

Everything began to sparkle;

Everything, took sound and colours on!

In the sunshine!

Flowers and birds, big and small!

Good day! Good day!

Isn’t a lovely world?

Hi, you there! How are you?

Lovely world!

“Am I going to be happy too?!

No! No! I don’t think so,

Things will never ever come to flower for me!”

Ich hab’ ein glühend Messer

Ich hab’ ein glühend Messer,

Ein Messer in meiner Brust,

O weh! O weh! Das schneid’t so tief

In jede Freud’ und jede Lust,

So tief! so tief!

Es schneid’t so weh und tief!

Ach, was ist das für ein böser Gast!

Nimmer hält er Ruh’

Nimmer hält er Rast!

Nicht bei Tag, nicht bei Nacht, wenn ich schlief!

O weh! O weh! O weh!

Wenn ich den Himmel seh’,

Seh’ ich zwei blaue Augen steh’n!

O weh! O weh!

Wenn ich im gelben Felde geh’,

Seh’ ich von Fern das blonde Haar

Im Winde weh’n!

O weh! O weh!

Wenn ich aus dem Traum aufffahr’

Und höre klingen ihr silbern Lachen,

O weh! O weh!

ich wollt’ ich läg auf der schwarzen Bahr’,

Könnt’ nimmer, nimmer die Augen aufmachen!

I have a burning knife,

A knife in my breast,

Oh woe! Oh woe! It cuts so deep

In every pleasure and every joy,

So deep! So deep!

It cuts so sharp and deep!

Oh what an evil guest it is!

It never gives me peace,

It never gives me rest!

Not by day, not by night if I slept!

Oh woe! Oh woe! Oh woe!

When I look at the sky

I see two blue eyes there!

Oh woe! Oh woe!

When I go to the yellow fields

I see from afar her blond hair

Blowing in the wind!

Oh woe! Oh woe!

When I wake up from my dreams

And hear the silvery ring of her laughter

Oh woe! Oh woe!

I wish I were lying on my black bier,

And that I could never open my eyes again!

Die zwei blauen Augen

Die zwei blauen Augen von meinem Schatz,

Die haben mich in die weite Welt geschickt.

Da musst’ ich Abschied nehmen

Vom allerliebsten Platz!

O Augen blau, warum habt ihr mich angeblickt!?

Nun hab’ ich ewig Leid und Grämen!

Ich bin ausgegangen in stiller Nacht,

In stiller Nacht wohl über die dunkle Haide;

Hat mir Niemand Ade gesagt.

Ade! Ade! Ade!

Mein Gesell’ war Lieb’ und Leide!

Auf der Strasse steht ein Lindenbaum,

Da hab’ ich zum ersten Mal im Schlaf geruht!

Unter dem Lindenbaum!

Der hat seine Blüten über mich geschneit,

Da wusst’ ich nicht, wie das Leben tut,

War alles, alles wieder gut!

Ach, alles wieder gut!

Alles! Alles! Lieb’ und Leid,

Und Welt, und Traum!

(Gustav Mahler)

The two blue eyes of my sweetheart,

They’ve sent me off into the wide world.

So I had to take my leave

Of the place I love best of all!

Oh blue eyes, why did you every look at me?

Now I’ll be in pain and sorrow for ever!

I went out in the silent night,

The silent night over the dark heath;

Nobody said Farewell to me,

Farewell! Farewell! Farewell!

My companions were love and pain!

On the street there stands a lime tree,

Where for the first time I slept!

Under the lime tree!

It snowed its blossoms over me

And I didn’t know, as it is in life,

That everything, everything was good again!

Ah, everything was good again!

Everything! Love and pain,

The world, and dreams!

Arnold Schoenberg (1874-1951)

Brettllieder

Galathea (Wedekind)

Enfältiges Lied (Salus)

Mahnung (Hochstetter)

Arie aus dem “Spiegel von Arcadien” (Schikaneder)

If it is difficult to imagine Arnold Schoenberg and Oscar Straus working as colleagues in a cabaret, it is even more difficult to imagine the ambitious young composer of the monumental Gurrelieder writing naughty ballads and voluptuous waltzes. In fact, both Schoenberg and Straus were engaged as conductors at the Überbrettl by Ernst von Wolzogen, who had brought artistic cabaret to Berlin and opened his Buntes Theater there in 1901. Schoenberg had first met Wolzogen when the Überbrettl was on tour in Vienna and had impressed him not only by deputising for Straus as conductor at the Karl-Theater but also by playing him some of his own cabaret songs. One of them was immediately adopted for the Überbrettl.

Schoenberg was familiar with the popular idiom partly through his industry as copyist and arranger - the only way he could make a living at the time - and partly, it seems, because of his sympathy with the artistic cabaret movement which had spread from Paris to Germany in the late 1890s. Certainly, he owned a copy of Deutsche Chansons - Otto Julius Bierbaum’s turn-of-the-century collection of cabaret songs by Dehmel, Lilienkron and Wedekind among other distinguished poets - and he had set pieces from it (by Falke, Wedekind and Bierbaum) before he met Wolzogen. Five similar songs, to words by poets not represented in the collection, were written at much the same time. Although, as the seductive slow-waltz element in Mahnung suggests, Schoenberg was not unacquainted with the music of the Parisian café-concert, his main source of inspiration was French and Viennese operetta: his setting of an aria by Emanuel Schikaneder - librettist of Die Zauberflöte - is a particularly stylish, if anachronistic, example.

Gerald Larner©

A writer and critic associated mainly with The Times, Gerald Larner has recently completed a biography of Maurice Ravel to be published by Phaidon Press in September

Galathea

Ach, wie brenn’ich vor Verlangen,

Galathea, schönes Kind,

Dir zu küssen deine Wangen,

Weil sie so entzückend sind.

Wonne dir mir widerfahre,

Galathea, schönes Kind,

Dir zu küssen deine Haare,

Weil sie so verlockend sind.

Nimmer wehr’ mir bis ich ende,

Galathea, schönes Kind,

Dir zu küssen deine Hände,

Weil sie so verlockend sind.

Ach du ahnst nicht, wie ich glühe,

Galathea, schönes Kind,

Dir zu küssen deine Knie,

Weil sie so verlockend sind.

Und was tät ich nicht, du Süsse,

Galathea, schönes Kind,

Dir zu küssen deine Füsse,

Weil sie so verlockend sind.

Aber deinen Mund enthülle,

Mädchen, meinen Küssen nie,

Denn in seiner Reize Fülle,

Küsst ihn nur die Phantasie

(Franz Wedekind)

Galathea

Ah, what a burning desire I have,

Galathea, lovely child,

To kiss your cheeks,

which are so delightful.

What bliss it would be for me,

Galathea, lovely child,

To kiss your hair,

which is so enticing.

I cannot help wanting,

Galathea, lovely child,

to kiss your hands,

which are so enticing.

Ah, you have no idea how I burn,

Galathea, lovely child,

to kiss your knees,

which are so enticing.

And what would I not do, my sweet,

Galathea, lovely child,

to kiss your feet,

which are so enticing.

But never give your lips,

My girl, to my kisses,

Since in the fullness of their charms,

They are kissed only in fantasy.

Einfältiges Lied

König ist spazieren ‘gangen,

Bloss wie ein Mensch spazierien ‘gangen,

Ohne Szepter und ohne Kron’,

Wie ein gewöhnlicher Menschensohn.

Ist ein starker Wind gekommen,

Ganz gewöhnlicher Wind gekommen,

Ohne ahnung wer das wär’

Fällt er über den König her.

Hat ihm den Hut vom Kopf gerissen,

Hat ihn über’s Dach geschmissen,

Hat ihn nie mehr wiedergesehn!

Seht Ihr’s! Da habt ihr’s! Das sag’ich ja!

Treiben gleich Allotria.

Es kann kein König ohn’ Kron’

Wie ein gewöhnlicher Menschensohn,

Wie ein gewöhnlicher Menschensoh

Unter die dummen Leute gehn!

(Hugo Salus)

Simple Song

The King went for a walk,

went for a walk like any one else,

Without sceptre and without crown,

Just like any ordinary person.

A string wind came up,

Quite an ordinary wind came up,

With no idea who it might be,

It pounced on the King.

Tore his hat from his head,

Threw it over the roof,

Never saw it again!

See there! That’s it! I told you!

Always fooling around.

No King can go without a crown,

Just like any ordinary person,

Just like any ordinary person,

Walking among the stupid people.

Mahnung

Mädel sei kein eitles Ding,

Fang dir keinen Schmetterling,

Such dir einen rechten Mann,

Dir dich tuuchtig küssen kann,

Und mit seiner Hände Kraft,

Dir ein warmes Nestchen schafft.

Mädel, Mädel, sei nicht dumm,

Lauf nicht wie im Traum herum,

Augen auf! Ob einer kommt,

Der dir recht zum Manne frommt.

Kommt er, dann nicht lang bedacht!

Klapp! die Falle zugemacht.

Liebes Mädel, seit gescheit,

Nütze deine Rosenzeit!

Passse auf und denke dran,

Dass du, wenn du ohne Plan

Ziellos durch das Leben schwirrst,

Eine alte Jungfer wirst.

Liebes Mädel, seit gescheit,

Nütze deine Rosenzeit!

Passe auf und denke dran!

Denk’ daran.

(Gustav Hochstetter)

Warning

Maiden don’t be a silly thing,

Don’t catch yourself a butterfly,

Find yourself a real man,

Who can give you a proper kiss

And with his own strong hands

Build a cozy nest for you.

Maiden, maiden, don’t be stupid,

Don’t go round in a dream,

Keep your eyes open for someone

who’s a real man to you.

When he comes, don’t think twice!

Snap! Close the trap.

Dear girl, be clever,

Use your time in bloom!

Watch out and remember

That if you whizz through life

Aimlessly without a plan,

You will be an old maid.

Dear girl, be clever,

Use your time in bloom!

Watch out and remember!

Remember!

Arie aus dem Spiegel von Arkadien

Seit ich viele Weiber sah,

Schlägt mir mein Herz so warm,

Es summt und brummt mir hier und da,

Als wie ein Bienenschwarm.

Und ist ihr Feuer meinem gleich,

Ihr Auge schön und klar,

So schlaget wie der Hammerstreich,

Mein Herzchen immer dar.

Bum, bum, bum…

Ich wünschte tausend Weiber mir,

Wenn’s recht den Göttern wär’,

Da tantzt’ ich wie ein Murmelthier,

In’s Kreuz und in die Quer.

Das wär ein Leben auf der Welt,

Da wollt’ich lustig sein,

Ich hüpfte wie ein Haas durch’s Feld,

Und’s Herz schlug immer drein.

Bum, bum, bum…

Wer Weiber nicht zu schätzen weiss’,

Ist weder halt noch warm,

Und liegt als wie ein Brocken Eis,

In eines Mädchens Arm.

Da bin ich schon ein andrer Mann,

Ich spring’ um sie herum;

Mein Herz klopft froh an ihrem an

Und machet bum, bum, bum…

(Emanuel Schikaneder)

aria from The Mirror of Arcady

Since I saw so many women

My heart has been beating so fiercely

Humming and buzzing here and there,

just like a swarm of bees.

And if she is aflame like me,

Her eyes bright and clear,

Then like a hammer blow

My heart keeps on beating

Boom, boom, boom…

I wish I had a thousand women,

If only the gods would let me,

Than I’d do a rabbit dance

Each and every way.

Boom, boom, boom…

What a life that would be,

Then I’d be really happy,

I’d hop through the fields like a hare,

And my hear would keep on beating

Boom, boom, boom…

Any man who doesn’t like women

Is neither hot nor cold,

And lies like a lump of ice

In a maiden’s arms.

I’m quite another sort,

I ’d dance all around her;

My heart beating happily against hers

And going boom, boom, boom…

(translations from French and German by Gerald Larner©)