Dorothea Röschmann

Monday 14 January 2008 at 7pm
Röschmann/Bostridge/Quasthoff Trio
part of Homeward Bound
Dorothea Röschmann soprano
Ian Bostridge tenor
Thomas Quasthoff baritone
Julius Drake piano
Schubert Lieder
There will be one interval of 20 minutes in this concert.
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Schubert Lieder
Tonight’s programme
Schubert Lieder
Songs from Goethe’s Wilhelm Meisters Lehrjahre:
Gesänge des Harfners:
Wer sich der Einsamkeit ergibt D478 / i
Wer nie sein Brot mit Tränen aß D478 / ii
An die Türen will ich schleichen D478 / iii
Ian Bostridge
An Mignon D161
Mignon und der Harfner D877
Ian Bostridge
Mignon Lieder
Heiß mich nicht reden D877 / ii
So laßt mich scheinen D877 / iii
Nur wer die Sehnsucht kennt D877 / iv
Kennst du das Land D321
Dorothea Röschmann
Ganymed D544
Grenzen der Menschheit D716
Erlkönig D328
Normans Gesang D846
Thomas Quasthoff
Kantate zum Geburtstag des Sängers Johann
Michael Vogl D666
Dorothea Röschmann, Ian Bostridge and Thomas Quasthoff
Dorothea Röschmann and Ian Bostridge
interval
Songs from Goethe’s Faust
Der König in Thule D367
Gretchen am Spinnrade D118
Gretchens Bitte D564
Szene aus Faust D126
Dorothea Röschmann
Licht und Liebe D352
Dorothea Röschmann and Ian Bostridge
Der Hochzeitsbraten D930
Dorothea Röschmann, Ian Bostridge and Thomas Quasthoff
Dorothea Röschmann, Ian Bostridge and Thomas Quasthoff
3
Introduction
Homeward Bound – The voice of Ian Bostridge
Welcome to Homeward Bound, part of the Barbican’s Great Performers season.
I am thrilled and honoured to have been given the opportunity, in my home city, to present so
much varied and ambitious work over the next two seasons. The works included cover virtually the
entire span of what we call classical music (with a little popular music thrown in for good measure)
from the closing days of Elizabeth I to the eve of the accession of Elizabeth II. The musical palette
ranges from the microcosmic lute song to the cosmic, Britten's grandest opera, Billy Budd.
My particular interest in English 17th-century culture is reflected in an evening of prose and poetry
by John Donne, who was once Dean of St Paul’s just round the corner. The evening includes
settings of Donne's work by his contemporaries as well as by Benjamin Britten.
The series ends with Britten’s Christmas cantata, Saint Nicolas, which I first sang more than 30
years ago at school. Britten remains, for many of us, the model composer and musician of
modern times. As a singer, I return for inspiration to his words on receiving the first Aspen Award
in 1964:
‘I believe in roots, in associations, in backgrounds, in personal relationships. I want my music to be
of use to people, to please them, to enhance their lives. My music has its roots in where I live and
work.’
Ian Bostridge
4
Notes
Schubert Lieder
The first half of this evening’s programme is dominated
by two tragic characters from Johann Wolfgang von
Goethe’s novel Wilhelm Meisters Lehrjahre (Wilhelm
Meister’s Years of Apprenticeship): the mysterious waif
Mignon and the Orphic figure of the Harper, who each
represent music and poetry incarnate. Schubert was, it is
fair to say, obsessed with nine of the inset-poems from
this novel, composing 21 songs to these texts between
1815 and 1826. Goethe’s novel is a Bildungsroman, in
which a young man grows to maturity, or, in this instance,
outgrows his flattering illusions at considerable cost to
those around him. He is moulded, as we all are, by those
he encounters on his journey through life, including the
mysterious Harper, whose tragic history we only learn
after his suicide near the end of the novel. He was once
Augustin, the son of the eccentric Marquis Cipriani in
Italy; raised apart from his younger sister Sperata (her
name derived from the Italian feminine noun ‘Speranza’,
or hope) and ignorant of her existence, he meets her as a
young man, they fall in love, and she bears him a child:
Mignon. Upon discovering that they are brother and
sister, Sperata dies, and the Harper wanders hither and
yon, singing of his sorrow and guilt. His songs make
manifest both art’s power over death and its futility in the
face of death, its conversion of the world into ordered
language and its creator’s inability to cope with tragic
reality. No hell is more terrifying than one’s own inner
darkness, as all who suffer pathological depression
know: that is the Harper’s fate, and yet he also
represents art’s all-encompassing engagement with
passion and beauty.
Schubert’s involvement with these poems began on
November 13, 1815 with his first setting of ‘Wer sich der
Einsamkeit ergiebt’. Multiple versions of all three Harper
poems would follow in September 1816, including two
very different conceptions of ‘Wer nie sein Brod mit
Tränen aß’ (one simpler and folksong-like, the other
more elaborate); that same month saw the creation of
the complete Gesänge des Harfners published as Op.
12. All three songs are in A minor, one of Schubert’s
‘tragic’ keys, and all three are linked musically in various
ways, appropriate for a character whose life is one long
song of grief. Both in ‘Wer sich der Einsamkeit ergiebt’
and ‘Wer nie sein Brod mit Tränen aß’, Schubert tells us
that the Harper must sing for his supper, must make his
sorrows melodious to earn the scant pence of survival.
And yet, Italianate lyricism twice gives way in the second
song to a mighty indictment of the gods who lead us into
transgression and then abandon us to our guilt. The third
and final song, ‘An die Türen will ich schleichen’, is the
Harper’s prophecy of a future in which he will beg for his
bread; alienated from the rest of humanity, he will
wonder why people weep at the sight of him. Over a
‘walking bass’ (an inheritance from the Baroque age in
which the bottom-most part proceeds in equal note
values at a walking pace), a vision of dry bones speaking
unfolds in austere immensity.
Mignon is a mysterious, quasi-androgynous creature
(Goethe calls her a ‘Knabenmädchen’, or ‘boy-girl’) in
early adolescence; kidnapped when very young, she is
rescued from her harsh life in an acrobatic troupe by
Wilhelm Meister and falls in love with him. She does not
know her age (‘Nobody has counted,’ she says in her
broken German), she dresses in boy’s clothes, and she
speaks of herself in the third person except in her songs.
She symbolizes humanity’s two natures, earthly and
spiritual, male and female, and she has prophetic
powers. Her life is governed by ‘Sehnsucht’ or ‘longing’,
a form of Romantic desire that manifests itself as
affliction; in song, she reaches out for the lost and
irretrievable ideal. But we do not know whether the
Mignon of ‘An Mignon’ has anything to do with this
evocative creature. Goethe wrote the poem in 1796,
thirteen years after creating Mignon; he was perhaps
inspired by Magdalena Riggi, a beautiful Milanese girl
he met on his Italian sojourn. The beginning will remind
5
Notes
some listeners of a slower ‘Am Feierabend’ from Die
schöne Müllerin (composed in 1823); each verse ends
with Schubert’s harmonic evocation of a sad weight on
the heart. With ‘Nur wer die Sehnsucht kennt’, we rejoin
Goethe’s great novel for a song presented as Wilhelm’s
incomplete transcription of a duet sung by the Harper
and Mignon. This is Schubert’s sixth and final version of
this poem, and it is a thorough re-working of an earlier
song, ‘Ins stille Land’, D. 403 to a poem by Johann
Gaudenz von Salis-Seewis, whose persona asks when he
might be granted surcease from sorrow. ‘Heiß mich nicht
reden’ is introduced in offhand manner in Goethe’s Book
Five, Chapter Six as ‘a poem Mignon had recited once or
twice with great expressiveness’.
The vow of which she sings is one she made to the Virgin
Mary, who promised her protection as she was being
kidnapped: she would never tell her story and would live
and die in expectation of divine intervention. Schubert
sets these grave words to the dactylic rhythms (long-shortshort/long-short-short) that often indicate cosmic matters
in his songs, although this pattern is supplanted on the
final page by a blaze of proto-Wagnerian harmonies. ‘So
laßt mich scheinen’ comes from Book Eight, Chapter Two,
when Wilhelm’s eventual bride Natalie tells him about a
birthday party at which Mignon played the part of an
angel. Refusing to take off her costume, she sings this
song foretelling her transcendence after death, her music
devoid of anger, self-pity, or even resignation.
Throughout much of the song, Schubert maintains a
repeated pitch hidden inside the piano’s chords, as if it
were the emblem of the land beyond death on which her
gaze is fixed. The harmonic swerve at the words ‘tiefen
Schmerz’ is a beautifully economical register of the
difference between the ‘deep sorrow’ she endures in this
life and an afterlife where she will be transfigured. At the
beginning of Book Three of the novel, Mignon sings
‘Kennst du das Land’ with ‘a certain solemn grandeur, as
if . . . she were imparting something of importance’.
6
Schubert imbues her memories of her native Italy with the
solemnity and expressivity Goethe wanted and then ends
each stanza with the urgent refrain ‘Dahin, dahin!’ and
an appeal to her ‘Beloved, Protector, Father’ (Wilhelm) to
take her there.
In 1771, Goethe wrote the first of his great Pindaric odes,
a poetic ideal that would occupy him intermittently for the
next 15 years. While he believed that he was imitating
Pindar’s ancient Greek odes, he was really creating
something new: free verse in free rhythms. For
‘Ganymed’, written in 1774, Goethe hugely modified the
Greek myth about Jupiter’s love for Ganymede and his
abduction of the beautiful boy into heaven to be his cupbearer; his ode tells of the transformation of a mortal
being into an immortal, unearthly realm. The
acclamation of Spring hails not just a season but radiant
force, rapturous bliss, to the point of dissolution. By the
end, the ‘I’ and the ‘All’ are no longer separate; the
loving individual reaches out to the entirety of beautiful
Nature and becomes one with it in ecstasy. Schubert sets
this exquisite poem about the merging of creativity, love
and the world to music that is itself a journey or a
process, ending elsewhere than its beginning. In
‘Grenzen der Menschheit’, we meet Goethe’s pantheist
God, who here takes the form of a good and wise father
but is not a deistic God presiding over a teleological
conception of life. Instead, God is seen as those forces of
life that sustain Nature and humanity; in the ceaseless
river of life and death, we can only swim against the tide
(Goethe always celebrates principles of action) or sink in
inertia. Schubert’s magnificent setting for a bass with a
big range begins in medias res of an ongoing stream of
harmonies, initially sinking in a ring-like sequence to tell
of the eternal chain of being even before the singer
enters to spell it out in words; his melody is filled
thereafter with ‘small rings’, wheeling and circling within
a small compass, as well as giant phrases bestriding the
musical landscape. Goethe’s universe organized as an
Notes
endless series of independent single beings becomes, in
this philosophical song, a panoply of changing tonalities
that return in the end to the beginning: the song is itself a
ring. The piano’s concluding bars are a darkened
‘Amen-cadence’, appropriate for the solemn, sacral
mysteries hymned here.
Duine). As Norman rides away to do his duty, Schubert
gives him a suitably equestrian song, ‘Normans Gesang’,
which gallops through various keys as if over hills and
dales. Each verse concludes with high-flown lyricism, a
brief, poignant melismatic flourish, to honour the bride
perhaps lost for ever.
Goethe’s ‘Erlkönig’ is without doubt the most terrifying
erotic poem in his oeuvre and marks a crisis point in his
life. Based partly on a Danish folk-song translated by
Johann Gottfried Herder and partly on the poet’s own
memories of a night ride to Tiefurt in April 1779, the
ballad tells of a father riding through a nature fraught
with death-dealing perverted lust, whispering golden
promises unmasked at the end as rape and murder. In
Schubert’s setting (and it is hard to believe that an 18year-old youth wrote such a massive thing), hammered
octaves fill the air with sound and fury, with menace that
makes a mockery of the father’s attempts to reason his
son’s fears away. This wild ride through many keys is
unified in part by the child’s repeated cries, ‘My father!
My father!’, to dissonances that never lose their power to
pierce. At the end, we can sense that the narrator does
not want to sing ‘The child lay dead’ in conclusive
fashion, does not want to acknowledge so hideous a fait
accompli, but the piano will have nothing of such
prevarication; in the last two instrumental chords,
undeniable in their finality, we can almost hear the grim
proclamation, ‘He’s dead’.
In 1817, Schubert won the allegiance of a major musical
figure in Viennese life: the great opera singer Johann
Michael Vogl (1768-1840). Two years later, on a holiday
with Vogl in his home town of Steyr, Upper Austria,
Schubert wrote this cantata in honour of the singer’s 51st
birthday; for the first performance, Vogl’s friend Josefine
Koller sang the soprano part, a local tenor named
Bernard Benedict took the tenor role, and Schubert
himself sang the bass. Vogl, a master of Gluckian
classicism, is honoured with impeccable late 18th-century
pomposity at the beginning; the trio then honours his
various famous operatic roles – Orestes in Christoph
Willibald Gluck’s Iphigénie en Tauride, Jakob in ÉtienneNicolas Méhul’s Joseph, the regimental doctor in
Adalbert Gyrowetz’s Der Augenarzt, and Micheli in Luigi
Cherubini’s Les deux journées, while Emeline or Liene is
the beloved of Jakob Friburg in Josef Weigl’s Die
Schweizerfamilie – and ends with a canonic encomium:
‘his soul will still sound forth’ even when his voice falls
silent. These contrapuntal waves could, Schubert hints,
resound into infinity.
In Sir Walter Scott’s (1771-1832) wildly popular 1810
verse-romance The Lady of the Lake, various subplots
adorn the main story about the beautiful Ellen Douglas
and Malcolm Graeme. One of those fragmentary stories
tells of the knight Norman, heir of Armandave, who no
sooner marries his beloved Maria than Angus, heir of
Duncraggen, appears to summon him to fight against
James V of Scotland (Scott is cavalier enough not to tell us
whether the lad survives the bloody battle of Beal’ an
In Part One of Goethe’s Faust drama about a character
who over-reaches in everything he does, whose
aspirations partake both of sublimity and depravity,
Gretchen is the archetypal good village girl who is
seduced by Faust with the help of the devil’s emissary
Mephistopheles, abandoned, and then executed after
she murders her baby (but her soul is saved); Goethe
knew of real-life infanticides and public executions in
Leipzig and Frankfurt. In the scene entitled ‘Evening’,
Gretchen sings ‘Der König in Thule’ just before she
7
Notes
discovers the casket of jewels Faust and Mephistopheles
have left for her; Ultima Thule was the legendary name
for the ends of the earth, and this tiny ballad tells of a
king faithful to his beloved beyond her death and until his
own – but Gretchen will not know such love. Schubert
invests this deceptively simple strophic song with all the
antique aura of a tale of bygone times. In the scene
‘Gretchen’s Room’, she sits at her spinning wheel and
sings of peace of mind lost to desire in ‘Gretchen am
Spinnrade’; Goethe reshuffled the order of the scenes
over the years, and Schubert would have read the version
in which Gretchen is newly awakened to passion but not
yet seduced. This song burst onto the compositional stage
like an epiphany, a moment after which nothing is ever
the same again. Here, the primal power of female
sexuality is unleashed in a tonal floodtide, in wave upon
wave of harmonies to make the head spin. That a
seventeen-year-old young man wrote it is for ever
astonishing. In the scene, ‘Gretchen at the city ramparts’,
the pregnant Gretchen, aware of disgrace to come,
prays to a statue of the Virgin placed in a niche in the
town walls. ‘Gretchens Bitte’ is a fragment: the final three
stanzas of her desperate prayer are not to be found here.
Various later Schubertians, including Benjamin Britten,
have sought to complete the work, but tonight, it will be
performed as Schubert left it, breaking off at the line,
‘Das Herz zerbricht in mir’, (And my heart breaks within
me). Like those performances of The Art of Fugue that
stop where Bach’s hand stopped, there is something
poignant about the unfinished state, the ‘ending’ that is
not really an end. The ‘Szene aus Goethes Faust’ is
extraordinary: a thoroughgoing compound of opera and
song, its dramatic dialogue between Gretchen and an
evil spirit interspersed with the bone-chilling setting of the
‘Dies irae’ (Day of wrath) from the Mass for the Dead. By
this point, Gretchen is pregnant, she has unwittingly
poisoned her mother with a sleeping draught, and Faust
has just killed her brother in a duel. The tragedy of
Gretchen and Faust is now headed inexorably to its end.
8
Matthäus von Collin was far from being a great poet, but
he was a thoughtful man who helped introduce
Romanticism to Austria. Theatre-mad like many Viennese,
he completed part of a projected cycle of historical
dramas intended to instruct the populace about past
historical glory so that Austrians might be inspired to
recreate that splendour in the present. The text of ‘Licht
und Liebe’ comes from his drama Friedrich der Streitbare
(Frederick the Valiant), the last of the Babenberg dukes
who ruled Austria in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries.
Desirous of heroic figures for patriotic purposes, Collin
changed the character of the real Friedrich, a bellicose
testosterone nightmare, into a tragic figure who must
renounce his beloved wife Agnes for dynastic reasons. In
the last act, Friedrich hears two distant voices – a
boatman and Agnes – singing these words about love. It
is chance arranged by destiny that the sailor, untouched
by the duke and duchess’s tragedy, sings of love as a
celestial principle, and therefore his song is consummate
lyricism, while her song begins with dignified lamentation
(but with angst-ridden rhythms in the right hand), falls
briefly into a despairing outburst, and then chants
numbly of love’s loss. Only in the final section do the two
characters join forces to sing the opening words again,
her part mostly lower than his. She was loved and still
knows that ‘love is a sweet light’, but hers is a sadder view
than the boatman’s. And finally, we end with the lighthearted trio, ‘Der Hochzeitsbraten’, a comic jape about
a pre-wedding poaching expedition; the lovers are
caught, but the property owner cannot resist the pretty
bride-to-be. When he lets them off, they invite him to the
wedding. From the beginning, we hear the effervescence
of Viennese Volkstheater music, complete with soundeffects to lure the hare out of hiding, a paean to the joys
of hunting, and celebratory yodelling at the close.
Programme notes by Susan Youens © 2007
The Carnegie Hall Corporation
Text and translation
Wer sich der Einsamkeit ergibt
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749-1832)
Who gives himself to loneliness
Wer sich der Einsamkeit ergibt,
Ach! der ist bald allein;
Ein jeder lebt, ein jeder liebt,
Und läßt ihn seiner Pein.
Who gives himself to loneliness,
Ah! he is soon alone;
Others live, others love,
And leave him to his pain.
Ja! laßt mich meiner Qual!
Und kann ich nur einmal
Recht einsam sein,
Dann bin ich nicht allein.
Yes! Leave me to my torment!
And if I can but once
Be truly lonely,
Then I’ll not be alone.
Es schleicht ein Liebender lauschend sacht,
Ob seine Freundin allein?
So überschleicht bei Tag und Nacht
Mich Einsamen die Pein,
Mich Einsamen die Qual.
Ach werd’ ich erst einmal
Einsam im Grabe sein,
Da läßt sie mich allein!
A lover steals up listening,
To learn if his love’s alone;
So in my solitude
Do pain and torment
Steal over me by day and night.
Ah, when once I lie
Lonely in my grave,
Loneliness will leave me alone!
Wer nie sein Brot mit Tränen aß
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Who never ate his bread with tears
Wer nie sein Brot mit Tränen aß,
Wer nie die kummervollen Nächte
Auf seinem Bette weinend saß,
Der kennt euch nicht, ihr himmlischen Mächte!
Who never ate his bread with tears,
Who never through the anxious nights
Sat weeping on his bed,
He knows you not, you heavenly powers!
Ihr führt ins Leben uns hinein,
Ihr laßt den Armen schuldig werden,
Dann überlaßt ihr ihn der Pein:
Denn alle Schuld rächt sich auf Erden.
You bring us into life,
You let poor wretches incur guilt,
Then abandon them to pain;
For all guilt is avenged on earth.
An die Türen will ich schleichen
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
I’ll steal from door to door
An die Türen will ich schleichen,
Still und sittsam will ich stehn;
Fromme Hand wird Nahrung reichen,
Und ich werde weiter gehn.
Jeder wird sich glücklich scheinen,
Wenn mein Bild vor ihm erscheint;
Eine Träne wird er weinen,
Und ich weiß nicht was er weint.
I’ll steal from door to door,
Quietly and humbly I’ll stand;
A kindly hand will offer food,
And I’ll go on my way.
Men will think themselves happy
When they see me standing there.
They will shed a tear,
And I’ll not know why they weep.
9
Text and translation
An Mignon
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
To Mignon
Über Tal und Fluß getragen
Ziehet rein der Sonne Wagen.
Ach! sie regt in ihrem Lauf,
So wie deine, meine Schmerzen,
Tief im Herzen,
Immer morgens wieder auf.
Over valley and stream
The sun’s chariot moves chastely along.
Ah! it wakens in its course
Your agonies and mine,
Deep in our hearts,
Each new morning.
Kaum will mir die Nacht noch frommen,
Denn die Träume selber kommen
Nun in trauriger Gestalt,
Und ich fühle dieser Schmerzen,
Still im Herzen,
Heimlich bildende Gewalt.
Night now brings but scant relief,
For dreams themselves now come
In melancholy guise,
And silently in my heart
I feel the secret might
Of those agonies increase.
Schon seit manchen schönen Jahren
Seh’ ich unten Schiffe fahren;
Jedes kommt an seinen Ort;
Aber ach! die steten Schmerzen,
Fest im Herzen,
Schwimmen nicht im Strome fort.
For many a long year
I have watched the ships sail below;
Each one reaches its haven;
But ah! the constant agonies
That cling to my heart,
Are not borne away in the stream.
Schön in Kleidern muß ich kommen,
Aus dem Schrank sind sie genommen,
Weil es heute Festtag ist;
Niemand ahndet, daß von Schmerzen
Herz im Herzen,
Grimmig mir zerrissen ist.
I must come in fine clothing,
Taken from the closet,
For today’s a holiday;
No one suspects
That in my inmost heart
I’m racked by savage pain.
Heimlich muß ich immer weinen,
Aber freundlich kann ich scheinen
Und sogar gesund und rot;
Wären tödlich diese Schmerzen
Meinem Herzen,
Ach! schon lange wär’ ich tot.
Secretly I must keep weeping,
Outwardly I seem cheerful,
Even ruddy and well;
If these agonies
Could kill my heart,
Ah! I would long ago have died.
10
Text and translation
Mignon und der Harfner
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Mignon and the Harper
Nur wer die Sehnsucht kennt
Weiß, was ich leide!
Allein und abgetrennt
Von aller Freude,
Seh’ ich an’s Firmament
Nach jener Seite.
Ach! der mich liebt und kennt
Ist in der Weite.
Es schwindelt mir, es brennt
Mein Eingeweide.
Nur wer die Sehnsucht kennt
Weiß, was ich leide!
Only those who know longing
Know what I suffer!
Alone and cut off
From every joy,
I search the sky
In that direction.
Ah! he who loves and knows me
Is far away.
My head reels,
My body blazes.
Only those who know longing
Know what I suffer!
Heiß mich nicht reden
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Bid me not speak
Heiß mich nicht reden, heiß mich schweigen,
Denn mein Geheimnis ist mir Pflicht;
Ich möchte dir mein ganzes Innre zeigen,
Allein das Schicksal will es nicht.
Bid me not speak, bid me be silent,
For I am bound to secrecy;
I should love to bare you my soul,
But Fate has willed it otherwise.
Zur rechten Zeit vertreibt der Sonne Lauf
Die finstre Nacht, und sie muß sich erhellen;
Der harte Fels schließt seinen Busen auf,
Mißgönnt der Erde nicht die tiefverborgnen Quellen.
At the appointed time the sun dispels
The dark, and night must turn to day;
The hard rock opens up its bosom,
Without begrudging earth its deeply hidden springs.
Ein jeder sucht im Arm des Freundes Ruh,
Dort kann die Brust in Klagen sich ergießen;
Allein ein Schwur drückt mir die Lippen zu,
Und nur ein Gott vermag sie aufzuschließen.
All humans seek peace in the arms of a friend,
There the heart can pour out its sorrow,
But my lips, alas, are sealed by a vow
And only a god can open them.
So laßt mich scheinen
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Let me appear an angel
So laßt mich scheinen, bis ich werde;
Zieht mir das weiße Kleid nicht aus!
Ich eile von der schönen Erde
Hinab in jenes feste Haus.
Let me appear an angel till I become one;
Do not take my white dress from me!
I hasten from the beautiful earth
Down to that impregnable house.
Dort ruh ich eine kleine Stille,
Dann öffnet sich der frische Blick,
Ich lasse dann die reine Hülle,
Den Gürtel und den Kranz zurück.
There in brief repose I’ll rest,
Then my eyes will open, renewed;
My pure raiment then I’ll leave,
With girdle and rosary, behind,
11
Text and translation
Und jene himmlischen Gestalten,
Sie fragen nicht nach Mann und Weib,
Und keine Kleider, keine Falten
Umgeben den verklärten Leib.
And those heavenly beings,
They do not ask who is man or woman,
And no garments, no folds
Cover the transfigured body.
Zwar lebt ich ohne Sorg und Mühe,
Doch fühlt ich tiefen Schmerz genung.
Vor Kummer altert ich zu frühe;
Macht mich auf ewig wieder jung!
Though I lived without trouble and toil,
I have felt deep pain enough.
I grew old with grief before my time;
Oh, make me forever young again!
Nur wer die Sehnsucht kennt
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Only those who know longing
Nur wer die Sehnsucht kennt
Weiß, was ich leide!
Allein und abgetrennt
Von aller Freude,
Seh’ ich an’s Firmament
Nach jener Seite.
Ach! der mich liebt und kennt
Ist in der Weite.
Es schwindelt mir, es brennt
Mein Eingeweide.
Nur wer die Sehnsucht kennt
Weiß, was ich leide!
Only those who know longing
Know what I suffer!
Alone and cut off
From every joy,
I search the sky
In that direction.
Ah, he who loves and knows me
Is far away.
My head reels,
My body blazes.
Only those who know longing
Know what I suffer!
Kennst du das Land
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Do you know the land
Kennst du das Land, wo die Zitronen blühn,
Im dunkeln Laub die Goldorangen glühn,
Ein sanfter Wind vom blauen Himmel weht,
Do you know the land where lemons blossom?
Where oranges grow golden among leaves?
A gentle wind drifts across the blue sky,
Die Myrte still und hoch der Lorbeer steht,
Kennst du es wohl?
Dahin! Dahin!
Möcht ich mit dir, o mein Geliebter, ziehn.
The myrtle stands silent, the laurel tall,
Do you know it?
It is there! It is there
I long to go with you, my love.
Kennst du das Haus? Auf Säulen ruht sein Dach,
Es glänzt der Saal, es schimmert das Gemach,
Und Marmorbilder stehn und sehn mich an:
Was hat man dir, du armes Kind, getan?
Kennst du es wohl?
Dahin! Dahin!
Möcht ich mit dir, o mein Beschützer, ziehn.
Do you know the house? Columns support its roof,
Its hall gleams, its apartments shimmer,
And marble statues stand and stare at me:
What have they done to you, poor child?
Do you know it?
It is there! It is there
I long to go with you, my protector.
12
Text and translation
Kennst du den Berg und seinen Wolkensteg?
Das Maultier sucht im Nebel seinen Weg;
In Höhlen wohnt der Drachen alte Brut;
Es stürzt der Fels und über ihn die Flut,
Kennst du ihn wohl?
Dahin! Dahin
Geht unser Weg! o Vater, laß uns ziehn!
Do you know the mountain and its cloudy path?
The mule seeks its way through the mist,
In caverns dwell the dragons‘ ancient brood;
The cliff falls sheer, the torrent over it.
Do you know it?
It is there! It is there
Our pathway lies! O father, let us go!
Ganymed
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Ganymede
Wie im Morgenglanze
Du rings mich anglühst,
Frühling, Geliebter!
Mit tausendfacher Liebeswonne
Sich an mein Herze drängt
Deiner ewigen Wärme
Heilig Gefühl,
Unendliche Schöne!
Daß ich dich fassen möcht’
In diesen Arm!
How in the morning radiance
You glow at me from all sides,
Spring, beloved!
With thousandfold delights of love,
The holy sense
Of your eternal worth
Presses against my heart,
Beauty without end!
To clasp you
In these arms!
Ach an deinem Busen
Lieg’ ich und schmachte,
Und deine Blumen, dein Gras
Drängen sich an mein Herz.
Du kühlst den brennenden
Durst meines Busens,
Lieblicher Morgenwind!
Ruft drein die Nachtigall
Liebend nach mir aus dem Nebeltal.
Ich komm’, ich komme!
Ach wohin, wohin?
Ah, on your breast
I lie and languish,
And your flowers, your grass,
Press against my heart.
You cool the burning
Thirst of my breast.
Sweet morning breeze!
The nightingale calls out to me
Longingly from the misty valley.
I come, I come!
Where? Ah, where?
Hinauf strebt’s, hinauf!
Es schweben die Wolken
Abwärts, die Wolken
Neigen sich der sehnenden Liebe,
Mir! Mir!
In eurem Schoße
Aufwärts!
Umfangend umfangen!
Aufwärts an deinen Busen,
Alliebender Vater!
Upwards! Upwards I’m driven.
The clouds float
Down, the clouds
Bow to yearning love.
To me! To me!
Enveloped by you
Aloft!
Embraced and embracing!
Upwards to your bosom,
All-loving father!
13
Text and translation
Grenzen der Menschheit
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Limitations of mankind
Wenn der uralte,
Heilige Vater
Mit gelassener Hand
Aus rollenden Wolken
Segnende Blitze
Über die Erde sä’t,
Küss’ ich den letzten
Saum seines Kleides,
Kindliche Schauer
Tief in der Brust.
When the ancient of days,
The holy father,
With a serene hand
From rolling clouds
Scatters beneficent thunderbolts
Over the earth,
I kiss the extreme
Hem of his garment,
Childlike awe
Deep in my breast,
Denn mit Göttern
Soll sich nicht messen
Irgend ein Mensch.
Hebt er sich aufwärts,
Und berührt
Mit dem Scheitel die Sterne,
Nirgends haften dann
Die unsichern Sohlen,
Und mit ihm spielen
Wolken und Winde.
For no man
Should measure himself
Against the gods.
If he reaches up
And touches
The stars with his head,
His uncertain feet
Lose their hold,
And clouds and winds
Make sport of him.
Steht er mit festen,
Markigen Knochen
Auf der wohlgegründeten
Dauernden Erde
Reicht er nicht auf,
Nur mit der Eiche
Oder der Rebe
Sich zu vergleichen.
If he stands with firm,
Sturdy limbs
On the solid
Enduring earth,
He cannot even reach up
To compare himself
With the oak
Or vine.
Was unterscheidet
Götter von Menschen?
Daß viele Wellen
Vor jenen wandeln,
Ein ewiger Strom:
Uns hebt die Welle,
Verschlingt die Welle,
Und wir versinken.
What distinguishes
Gods from men?
Before them
Many waves roll onwards,
An eternal river;
We are lifted by the wave,
Engulfed by the wave,
And we founder.
14
Text and translation
Ein kleiner Ring
Begrenzt unser Leben,
Und viele Geschlechter
Reihen sich dauernd
An ihres Daseins
Unendliche Kette.
A little ring
Bounds our life,
And many generations
Constantly succeed each other
Like links in the endless chain
Of existence.
Erlkönig
from Die Fischerin
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
The Erlking
Wer reitet so spät durch Nacht und Wind?
Es ist der Vater mit seinem Kind;
Er hat den Knaben wohl in dem Arm,
Er faßt ihn sicher, er hält ihn warm.
Who rides so late through night and wind?
It is the father with his child;
He has the boy safe in his arms,
He holds him close, he keeps him warm.
Mein Sohn, was birgst du so bang dein Gesicht?
Siehst, Vater, du den Erlkönig nicht?
Den Erlenkönig mit Kron’ und Schweif?
Mein Sohn, es ist ein Nebelstreif.
‘My son, why hide your face in fear?’
‘Can’t you see the Erlking, father?
The Erlking with his crown and robe?’
‘My son, it is a streak of mist.’
‘Du liebes Kind, komm, geh mit mir!
Gar schöne Spiele spiel’ ich mit dir;
Manch’ bunte Blumen sind an dem Strand;
Meine Mutter hat manch gülden Gewand.’
‘You sweetest child, come go with me!
Wondrous games I’ll play with you;
Many pretty flowers grow on the shore,
My mother has many a garment of gold.’
Mein Vater, mein Vater, und hörest du nicht,
Was Erlenkönig mir leise verspricht?
Sei ruhig, bleibe ruhig, mein Kind;
In dürren Blättern säuselt der Wind.
‘Father, O father, can’t you hear
The Erlking’s whispered promises?’
‘Be calm, stay calm, my child,
The wind is rustling in withered leaves.’
‘Willst, feiner Knabe, du mit mir gehn?
Meine Töchter sollen dich warten schön;
Meine Töchter führen den nächtlichen Reihn,
Und wiegen und tanzen und singen dich ein.’
‘Won’t you come with me, fine boy?
My daughters shall take good care of you;
My daughters lead the nightly dance,
And will rock and dance and sing you to sleep.’
Mein Vater, mein Vater, und siehst du nicht dort
Erlkönigs Töchter am düstern Ort? –
Mein Sohn, mein Sohn, ich seh’ es genau;
Es scheinen die alten Weiden so grau.
‘Father, O father, can’t you see
The Erlking’s daughters there in the gloom?’
‘My son, my son, I can see quite clearly:
It’s the old willows gleaming so grey.’
‘Ich liebe dich, mich reizt deine schöne Gestalt;
Und bist du nicht willig, so brauch’ ich Gewalt.’
Mein Vater, mein Vater, jetzt faßt er mich an!
Erlkönig hat mir ein Leids getan!
‘I love you. Your beautiful figure excites me;
And if you’re not willing, I’ll take you by force.’
‘Father, O father, he’s seizing me now!
The Erlking’s done me harm!’
15
Text and translation
Dem Vater grauset’s, er reitet geschwind,
Er hält in Armen das ächzende Kind,
Erreicht den Hof mit Müh’ und Not;
In seinen Armen das Kind war tot.
The father shudders; swiftly he rides,
With the groaning child in his arms.
With a final effort he reaches home –
The child lay dead in his arms.
Normans Gesang
Norman’s Song
based on the poem by Sir Walter Scott (1771-1832), translated into German by Adam Storck (1780-1822)
Die Nacht bricht bald herein, dann
leg’ ich mich zur Ruh,
Die Heide ist mein Lager, das
Farnkraut deckt mich zu,
Mich lullt der Wache Tritt wohl in den Schlaf hinein.
Ach, muss so weit von dir, Maria, Holde, sein.
Soon night will fall. Then I shall lie
down to rest;
The heath shall be my bed, the
bracken shall cover me,
The sentry’s tread shall lull me to sleep.
Alas, I must be so far from you, Mary.
Und wird es morgen Abend, und kommt die trübe Zeit,
Dann ist vielleicht mein Lager der blutig rote Plaid,
Mein Abendlied verstummet, du
schleichst dann trüb und bang,
Maria, mich wecken kann nicht dein Totensang.
Come tomorrow evening, come the bleak hour,
My bed may be the blood-red plaid,
My vesper song will cease, and you,
Mary, will creep about,
Gloomy and troubled; your threnody will not waken me.
So musst ich von dir scheiden, du holde, süsse Braut,
Wie magst du nach mir rufen, wie magst du weinen laut,
Ach, denken darf ich nicht an deinen herben Schmerz,
Ach, denken darf ich nicht an dein getreues Herz.
Thus I had to leave you, fair, sweet bride.
Though you may call out for me, though you may weep aloud,
I cannot, alas, think of your bitter suffering,
I cannot, alas, think of your faithful heart.
Nein, zärtlich treues Sehnen darf hegen Norman nicht,
Wenn in den Feind Clan Alpin wie Sturm und Hagel bricht,
Wie ein gespannter Bogen sein mutig Herz dann sei,
Sein Fuss, Maria, wie der Pfeil so rasch und frei.
No, Norman cannot feel tender, devoted longing;
When Clan Alpine bursts like hail and tempest on the foe,
His bold heart must be then like a drawn bow,
His foot, Mary, as swift and free as an arrow.
Wohl wird die Stunde kommen, wo nicht die Sonne scheint,
Du wankst zu deinem Norman, dein holdes Auge weint,
Doch fall ich in der Schlacht, hüllt Todesschauer mich,
O glaub, mein letzter Seufzer, Maria, ist für dich.
A time will come when the sun does not shine,
You will totter towards your Norman, your fair eyes will weep;
But if I fall in battle, if grim death shrouds me,
Believe this, Mary, my last sigh shall be for you.
Doch kehr’ ich siegreich wieder aus kühner
Männerschlacht,
Dann grüssen wir so freudig das Nah’n der stillen Nacht,
Das Lager ist bereitet, uns winkt die süsse Ruh
Der Hänfling singt Brautlieder, Maria, bald uns zu.
But if I return victorious from the
brave battle,
How joyfully we shall greet the approach of the silent night.
The bed is prepared, sweet repose beckons to us;
Soon, Mary, the linnet will sing us wedding songs.
16
Text and translation
Cantate zum Geburtstag des Sängers Michael Vogl Cantata for the Birthday of the Singer Michael Vogl
Albert Stadler (1794-1888)
Sänger, der von Herzen singet,
Und das Wort zum Herzen bringet,
Bei den Tönen deiner Lieder
Fällt’s wie sanfter Regen nieder,
Den der Herr vom Himmel schickt,
Und die dürre Flur erquickt!
Singer, you who sing from the heart
And bring your words to the heart,
The sounds of your songs
Are like gentle rainfall,
Which the Lord sends from heaven
To refresh the parched fields.
Diese Berge sah’n dich blühen,
Hier begann dein Herz zu glühen,
Für die Künstlerhöh’n zu schlagen,
Die der Wahrheit Krone tragen:
Der Natur hast du entwandt,
Was die Kunst noch nicht verstand.
These mountains saw you blossom;
Here your heart began to glow,
To beat for the heights of artistry
Which bear the crown of truth:
You have wrested from Nature
What Art has not yet understood.
Da saht ihr Oresten scheiden,
Jakob mit der Last der Leiden,
Saht des Arztes Hoffnung tagen,
Menschlichkeit am Wasser wagen.
Saht, wie man sich Lienen sucht,
Bräute holt aus Berges Schlucht.
There you saw Orestes depart,
And Jacob with his burden of sorrow;
You saw the dawning of the physician’s hopes,
And human kindness at the water cart.
You saw them seeking out Lina,
And taking brides from mountain gorges.
In der Weihe deiner Würde
Stehst du, aller Sänger Zierde,
Auf Thaliens Tempel stufen,
Hörst um dich des Beifalls Rufen,
Doch ein Kranz, ein Sinngedicht,
Ist der Lohn des Künstlers nicht.
You stand in the consecration of your merits,
Glory of all singers,
Upon the slopes of Thalia’s temple;
You hear around you shouts of applause,
Yet a garland, an epigram,
Is not the artist’s reward.
Wenn dich einst in greisen Tagen
Deines Lebens Mühen plagen,
Willst du nicht zur Heimat wandern?
Lass die Helden einem Andern,
Nur von Agamemnons Sohn
Trag die treue Brust davon.
If in your old age
The cares of life trouble you,
Will you not travel to your homeland?
Leave heroes to someone else;
From Agamemnon’s son
Take only the faithful heart.
Gott bewahr’ dein teures Leben,
Heiter, spiegelklar und eben,
Wie das Tönen deiner Kehle
Tief herauf aus voller Seele;
Schweigt dann einst des Sängers Wort,
Tönet doch die Seele fort.
May God preserve your precious life,
Happy, crystal, clear and even,
Like the sounds from your throat,
Welling from the depths of your soul:
If ever the singer’s voice falls silent,
Then his soul will still sound forth.
INTERVAL
17
Text and translation
Der König in Thule
The King in Thule
Es war ein König in Thule
Gar treu bis an das Grab,
Dem sterbend seine Buhle
Einen goldnen Becher gab.
Once there was a king in Thule,
Faithful even to the grave,
To whom his mistress, as she died,
Gave a golden beaker:
Es ging ihm nichts darüber,
Er leert’ ihn jeden Schmaus;
Die Augen gingen ihm über,
So oft er trank daraus.
He valued nothing higher,
He drained it at every feast,
And every time he drank from it,
His eyes would fill with tears.
Und als er kam zu sterben,
Zählt’ er seine Städt’ im Reich,
Gönnt’ alles seinen Erben,
Den Becher nicht zugleich.
And when he came to die,
He counted the cities of his realm,
Gave all he had to his heirs,
The beaker though excepted.
Er saß beim Königsmahle,
Die Ritter um ihn her,
Auf hohem Vätersaale,
Dort auf dem Schloß am Meer.
He sat at the royal banquet,
Surrounded by his knights,
There in the lofty ancestral hall,
In the castle by the sea.
Dort stand der alte Zecher,
Trank letzte Lebensglut,
Und warf den heil’gen Becher
Hinunter in die Flut.
There he stood, that old toper,
Drinking life’s last glow,
And hurled the sacred beaker
Into the waves below.
Er sah ihn stürzen, trinken
Und sinken tief ins Meer.
Die Augen täten ihm sinken;
Trank nie einen Tropfen mehr.
He saw it fall and fill
And sink deep into the sea.
Then his eyelids closed;
He never drank another drop.
Gretchen am Spinnrade
Gretchen at the spinning-wheel
Meine Ruh ist hin,
Mein Herz ist schwer;
Ich finde sie nimmer
Und nimmermehr.
My peace is gone,
My heart is heavy,
I shall never
Ever find peace again.
Wo ich ihn nicht hab’
Ist mir das Grab,
Die ganze Welt
Ist mir vergällt.
When he’s not with me,
Life’s like the grave;
The whole world
Is turned to gall.
18
Text and translation
Mein armer Kopf
Ist mir verrückt,
Mein armer Sinn
Ist mir zerstückt.
My poor head
Is crazed,
My poor mind
Distracted.
Meine Ruh ist hin,
Mein Herz ist schwer,
Ich finde sie nimmer
Und nimmermehr.
My peace is gone,
My heart is heavy,
I shall never
Ever find peace again.
Nach ihm nur schau’ ich
Zum Fenster hinaus,
Nach ihm nur geh’ ich
Aus dem Haus.
It’s only for him
I gaze from the window,
It’s only for him
I leave the house.
Sein hoher Gang,
Sein’ edle Gestalt,
Seines Mundes Lächeln,
Seiner Augen Gewalt,
His proud bearing,
His noble form,
The smile on his lips,
The power of his eyes,
Und seiner Rede
Zauberfluß,
Sein Händedruck,
Und ach, sein Kuß!
And the flowing magic
Of his words,
The touch of his hand,
And ah, his kiss!
Meine Ruh ist hin,
Mein Herz ist schwer;
Ich finde sie nimmer
Und nimmermehr.
My peace is gone,
My heart is heavy,
I shall never
Ever find peace again.
Mein Busen drängt
Sich nach ihm hin.
Ach dürft’ ich fassen
Und halten ihn,
My bosom
Yearns for him.
Ah, if I could clasp
And hold him,
Und küssen ihn
So wie ich wollt’,
An seinen Küssen
Vergehen sollt’!
And kiss him
To my heart’s content,
And in his kisses
Perish!
19
Text and translation
Gretchens Bitte
Gretchen’s Prayer
Ach neige,
Du Schmerzenreiche,
Dein Antlitz gnädig meiner Not!
Ah, incline your countenance,
You who are full of sorrow,
To my distress!
Das Schwert im Herzen,
Mit tausend Schmerzen
Blickst auf zu deines Sohnes Tod.
With the sword in your heart,
And a thousand griefs,
You look up at your dying son.
Zum Vater blickst du,
Und Seufzer schickst du
Hinauf um sein’ und deine Not.
You gaze up to the Father
And utter sighs
For His affliction and your own.
Wer fühlet,
Wie wühlet
Der Schmerz mir im Gebein?
Was mein armes Herz hier banget,
Was es zittert, was verlanget,
Weißt nur du, nur du allein!
Who can feel
How the pain
Churns in my very bones?
What my poor heart dreads,
Why it quakes, what it craves,
Only you, only you can know!
Wohin ich immer gehe,
Wie weh, wie weh, wie wehe
Wird mir im Busen hier!
Ich bin ach kaum alleine,
Ich wein’, ich wein’, ich weine,
Das Herz zerbricht in mir.
Wherever I go,
How it throbs, it throbs, it throbs
Here in my breast!
Alas, as soon as I’m alone,
I weep, I weep, I weep,
My heart breaks.
Szene aus Faust
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Scene from Faust
Cathedral. Organ and singing during the service. Gretchen surrounded by the congregation.
Evil Spirit behind Gretchen.
Böser Geist:
Wie anders, Gretchen, war dir’s,
Als du noch voll Unschuld
Hier zum Altar trat’st,
Aus dem vergriffenen Büchelchen
Gebete lalltest,
Halb Kinderspiele,
Halb Gott im Herzen!
Gretchen!
Wo steht dein Kopf?
In deinem Herzen,
20
Evil Spirit:
How differently you felt, Gretchen,
When you, still full of innocence,
Stepped up to the altar here,
Murmuring prayers
From your well-thumbed book,
Your heart half-full of children’s games,
And half of God!
Gretchen!
What are you thinking of?
What misdeed
Text and translation
Welche Missetat?
Bet’st du für deiner Mutter Seele, die
Durch dich zur langen, langen Pein hinüberschlief?
Auf deiner Schwelle wessen Blut?
– Und unter deinem Herzen
Regt sich’s nicht quillend schon,
Und ängstigt dich und sich
Mit ahnungsvoller Gegenwart?
Is lodged in your heart?
Do you pray for your mother’s soul, who
Through your doing, passed over into long, long torment?
Whose blood stains your doorstep?
Does something not stir and swell
Beneath your heart,
Filling you and it
With fear and foreboding?
Gretchen:
Weh! Weh!
Wär’ich der Gedanken los,
Die mir herüber und hinüber gehen
Wider mich!
Gretchen:
Alas! Alas!
Were I but free of the thoughts
That teem in my mind,
Despite myself!
Chor:
Dies irae, dies illa,
Solvet saeclum in favilla.
Choir:
Day of wrath, on that day
The century shall crumble to ashes.
(The organ plays.)
Böser Geist:
Grimm faßt dich!
Die Posaune tönt!
Die Gräber beben!
Und dein Herz,
Aus Aschenruh
Zu Flammenqualen
Wieder aufgeschreckt,
Bebt auf!
Evil Spirit:
The wrath of God seizes you!
The trump sounds!
Sepulchres quake!
And your heart,
Fanned from
Ashen sleep
To fiery torment,
Trembles!
Gretchen:
Wär’ ich hier weg!
Mir ist als ob die Orgel mir
Den Atem versetzte,
Gesang mein Herz
Im Tiefsten lös’te.
Gretchen:
If only I could escape!
The organ seems
To stifle my breath,
The chanting voices
Pierce my heart.
Chor:
Judex ergo cum sedebit,
Quidquid latet adparebit,
Nil inultum remanebit.
Choir:
For when the judge shall hold court,
All that is hidden shall be revealed,
Nothing shall remain unavenged.
Gretchen:
Mir wird so bang!
Gretchen:
I feel trapped!
21
Text and translation
Die Mauerpfeiler
Befangen mich!
Das Gewölbe
Drängt mich! – Luft!
The pillars and the walls
Crowd in on me!
The vaulted roof
Bears down on me! – Air!
Böser Geist:
Verbirg dich! Sünd’ und Schande
Bleibt nicht verborgen.
Luft? Licht?
Wehe dir!
Evil Spirit:
Hide yourself! Sin and shame
Will not stay hidden.
Air? Light?
Woe to you!
Chor:
Quid sum miser tunc dicturus?
Quem patronum rogaturus?
Cum vix justus sit securus.
Choir:
What am I, wretched one, to say?
What patron am I to implore,
When scarcely the just man is secure?
Böser Geist:
Ihr Antlitz wenden
Verklärte von dir ab.
Die Hände dir zu reichen,
Schaudert’s den Reinen.
Weh!
Evil Spirit:
Transfigured souls
Recoil from you.
The pure in heart shudder
At the thought of helping you.
Woe!
Chor:
Quid sum miser tunc dicturus?
Quem patronum rogaturus?
Choir:
What am I, wretched one, to say?
What patron am I to implore?
Licht und Liebe
Matthäus von Collin (1779-1824)
Light and Love
Bariton:
Liebe ist ein süßes Licht.
Wie die Erde strebt zur Sonne
Und zu jenen hellen Sternen
In den weiten blauen Fernen,
Strebt das Herz nach Liebeswonne;
Denn sie ist ein süßes Licht.
Baritone:
Love is a sweet light.
As the earth strives towards the sun
And to those bright stars
In the wide blue reaches,
So does my heart strive for love’s bliss;
For it is a sweet light.
Alt:
Sieh, wie hoch in stiller Feier
Droben helle Sterne funkeln,
Von der Erde fliehn die dunkeln,
Schwermutsvollen trüben Schleier.
Mezzo-soprano:
See, how high in silent celebration
Bright stars sparkle above us,
How the dark melancholy veils
Of gloom flee from the earth.
22
Text and translation
Wehe mir, wie so trübe
Fühl’ ich tief mich im Gemüte,
Das in Freuden sonst erblühte,
Nun vereinsamt ohne Liebe.
Alas! I feel such gloom
Deep within my heart,
Which once blossomed in joy,
And is now loveless and desolate.
Alt und Bariton:
Liebe ist ein süßes Licht.
Wie die Erde strebt zur Sonne
Und zu jenen hellen Sternen
In den weiten blauen Fernen,
Strebt das Herz nach Liebeswonne;
Denn sie ist ein süßes Licht.
Mezzo-soprano and baritone:
Love is a sweet light.
As the earth strives towards the sun
And to those bright stars
In the wide blue reaches,
So does my heart strive for love’s bliss;
For it is a sweet light.
Der Hochzeitsbraten
Franz von Schober (1798-1882)
The Wedding Feast
Therese:
Ach liebes Herz, ach Theobald,
Lass dir nur diesmal raten,
Ich bitt’ dich, geh nicht in den Wald.
Wir brauchen keinen Braten.
Therese:
Oh dear heart, oh Theobald,
Just listen to me this time:
I beg you, don’t go into the woods,
We don’t need any meat!
Theobald:
Der Stein ist scharf, ich fehle nicht,
Den Hasen muss ich haben,
Der Kerl muss uns als Haputgericht
Beim Hochzeitschmause laben.
Theobald:
My flint is sharp, I won’t miss.
I must have that hare:
The fellow will be the main course
At our wedding feast.
Therese:
Ich bitt’ dich, Schatz –
Therese:
I beg you, dear –
Theobald:
Ich geh allein.
Theobald:
I’ll go alone.
Therese:
Sie hängen dich!
Therese:
They’ll hang you!
Theobald:
Was fällt dir ein!
Theobald:
What nonsense!
Therese:
Allein kann ich nicht bleiben.
Therese:
I can’t stay here alone.
Theobald:
Nun gut, so magst du treiben.
Theobald:
Alright, you do the beating.
23
********
Text and translation
Therese:
Wo steckt er denn?
Gsch! Gsch! Prr! Prr!
Therese:
Where’s he hiding then?
Gsch! Gsch! Prr! Prr!
Theobald:
Hier ist der Ort,
Jetzt treibe fort,
Jetzt hier im Kraut,
Jetzt im Gebüsch.
Theobald:
Here is the place.
Now go on beating –
Now in the undergrowth,
Now in the bushes.
Therese:
Nur immer frisch!
Therese:
That’s the way!
Theobald:
Nur nicht so laut!
Theobald:
Not so loud!
Kaspar:
Horch! Horch!
Kaspar:
Listen! Listen!
Theobald:
Nur still! Nur still!
Theobald:
Quiet! Quiet!
Kaspar:
Potz Blitz, was soll das sein?
Ich glaub sie jagen.
Da schlag der Hagel drein!
Potz Blitz!
Kaspar:
Confound it, what’s going on here?
They must be hunting.
I’ll rain some bullets on to them.
Confound it!
Theobald:
Still! Still!
Theobald:
Shut up!
Therese:
Nur aufgepasst!
Therese:
Keep concentrating!
Kaspar:
Potz Blitz!
Kaspar:
Confound it!
Theobald:
Da sprach ja wer?
Theobald:
Who spoke then?
Therese:
Was du nicht hörst!
Therese:
Your imagination!
Kaspar:
Der kommt nicht aus, den sperr ich ein.
Kaspar:
He won’t escape. I’ll trap him.
24
Text and translation
Theobald:
Es wird der Wind gewesen sein.
Theobald:
It must have been the wind.
Therese:
O Lust, ein Jägersmann zu sein,
Ein Has, ein Has!
Therese:
What fun it is to be a huntsman.
Look – a hare!
Theobald:
Da liegt er schon!
Theobald:
There he is – dead!
Kaspar:
Nun wart, Hallunk, dich trifft dein Lohn!
Du Galgenstrick, du Enakssohn,
Du Haupthallunk, dich trifft dein Lohn!
Kaspar:
Just wait, you scoundrel, you’ll get what’s coming!
You wicked good-for-nothing,
You arch-fiend, you’ll get what’s coming!
Theobald:
Welch Meisterschuss,
Grad in die Brust!
O Lust, o süsse Jägerlust!
Theobald:
What a great shot –
Right in the heart!
Oh, the pleasures of hunting!
Therese:
O sieh! Den feisten Rücken,
Den will ich trefflich spicken.
O Lust, o süsse Jägerlust!
Therese:
Oh, what a plump, meaty hare.
I’ll grease it really well!
Oh, the pleasures of hunting!
Kaspar:
Halt Diebsgepack!
**********
Kaspar:
Stop, you pack of thieves!
Therese und Theobald:
Nun ist es aus.
Therese and Theobald:
Now we’ve had it!
Kaspar:
Den Hasen gebt, die Büchs heraus!
Kaspar:
Give me the hare, and the rifle!
Theobald:
Ich muss ...
Theobald:
I really must ...
Therese:
Ich will ...
Therese:
I want to ...
Kaspar:
Ins Loch, ins Arbeitshaus!
Kaspar:
Go to jail, to the workhouse!
Therese und Theobald:
O weh! O weh! Mit uns ists aus.
Therese and Theobald:
Oh dear, now we’ve had it!
25
Text and translation
Kaspar:
Ich treib euch schon das Stehlen aus.
Kaspar:
I’ll cure you of poaching!
Therese und Theobald:
Herr Jäger, seid doch nicht von Stein,
Die Hochzeit sollte morgen sein!
Therese and Theobald:
Sir, don’t be so hard –
We’re getting married tomorrow!
Kaspar:
Was kümmerts mich!
Kaspar:
What do I care!
Theobald:
Mit Most will ich euch reich versehn.
Theobald:
I’ll give you lots of new wine.
Therese:
Und ich, ich strick euch einen Beutel.
Therese:
And I could stitch you a haversack.
Therese und Theobald:
O hört, o hört, er sei euer Dank!
Therese and Theobald:
Please listen! Accept our gifts!
Kaspar:
(Das Mädchen ist verzweifelt schön.)
Kaspar:
(The girl’s deuced pretty!)
Nein, nein, ’sist alles eitel!
No, that won’t do you any good!
Therese und Theobald:
Und dieser Taler weiss und blank,
Lasst ihr uns gehn, er sei euer Dank.
Therese and Theobald:
And these shining new coins –
Accept them and let us go.
Therese und Theobald:
Ach! statt den Hasenrücken
Muss ich den Jäger spicken!
**********
Therese and Theobald:
Oh dear! Instead of greasing the hare
We must grease up to the gamekeeper!
Kaspar:
Sie ist doch zum Entzücken,
Ich muss ein Aug zudrücken,
Nun wohl, weil ernstlich ihr bereut,
Und’s erstemal im Forste seid,
Mag Gnad für Recht heut walten.
Ihr möget Hochzeit halten.
Kaspar:
But she’s charming!
I’ll have to turn a blind eye.
Alright, as you’re truly sorry,
And it’s your first time in the forest,
Let justice be ruled by mercy.
You may have your wedding.
Therese und Theobald:
O tausen Dank! O lieber Herr!
Gebt uns zur Hochzeit doch die Ehr!
Therese and Theobald:
A thousand thanks! Dear kind sir!
Please honour us with your presence!
26
Text and translation
Kaspar:
Es sei, ich komme morgen –
(Für’n Braten will ich sorgen.)
Kaspar:
Agreed. I’ll come tomorrow –
(And I’ll see to the wedding dish.)
All:
Lebt wohl, lebt wohl bis morgen.
All:
Goodbye until tomorrow.
**********
Therese und Theobald:
Das Herz ist frei von seiner Last,
Wir haben Hochzeit und ’nen Gast,
Und obendrein den Braten,
So sind wir gut beraten!
La la la ...
Therese and Theobald:
Our hearts are freed from care:
We’ve got our wedding, and a guest,
And on top of that a wedding dish,
So we are well provided for!
La la la ...
Kaspar:
Hol euch der Fuchs, ich wäre fast
Der Bräutgam lieber als der Gast,
Sie ist kein schlechter Braten,
Der Kerl ist gut beraten!
La la la ...
Kaspar:
The devil take them; I wish I were
The groom and not the guest!
She’s not a bad wedding dish.
The fellow’s well provided for!
La la la ...
Translations by Richard Stokes from The Book of Lieder – the original texts of over 1000 songs, chosen, translated and
introduced by Richard Stokes, with a foreword by Ian Bostridge (Faber, 2005). With thanks to George Bird, co-author of
The Fischer-Dieskau Book of Lieder.
27
About the performers
Ian Bostridge tenor
Award 1998), English song and Henze Lieder with Julius
Drake, Britten’s Our Hunting Fathers with Daniel
Ian Bostridge was a postHarding, Idomeneo with Charles Mackerras, Janác̆ek
doctoral fellow in history at
with Thomas Adès, Schubert with Leif Ove Andsnes and
Corpus Christi College,
Mitsuko Uchida, Noel Coward with Jeffrey Tate, Britten
Oxford, before embarking on
Orchestral cycles with the Berlin Philharmonic and Simon
a full-time career as a singer.
Rattle, Wolf with Antonio Pappano and, for EMI/Virgin,
His international recital career
Bach cantatas with Fabio Biondi, Britten’s Canticles and
includes the world’s major
Britten’s The Turn of the Screw (Gramophone Award,
concert halls and the
2003) and Handel Arias with Harry Bicket.
Salzburg, Edinburgh, Munich,
Vienna, Aldeburgh and Schubertiade Festivals. In 1999
Concert engagements include the Berlin Philharmonic,
he premiered a song-cycle written for him by Hans
Vienna Philharmonic, Chicago Symphony, Boston
Werner Henze. In 2003/04 he held artistic residencies at Symphony, London Symphony, London Philharmonic, BBC
the Vienna Konzerthaus and the Schubertiade
Symphony, Rotterdam Philharmonic, Royal
Schwarzenberg, in 2004/05 he shared a Carte-Blanche
Concertgebouw, New York Philharmonic and Los Angeles
series with Thomas Quasthoff at the Amsterdam
Philharmonic orchestras and the Orchestra of the
Concertgebouw, in 2005/06 he had his own Perspectives Metropolitan Opera under Simon Rattle, Colin Davis,
series at Carnegie Hall and in 2008 here at the Barbican. Andrew Davis, Seiji Ozawa, Riccardo Muti, Mstislav
Rostropovich, Daniel Barenboim, Daniel Harding, Donald
He made his operatic debut in 1994 as Lysander in
Runnicles, James Levine and Antonio Pappano.
Britten’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream with Opera
Australia at the Edinburgh Festival. In 1996 he made his
In 2001 he was elected an honorary fellow of Corpus
debut at English National Opera as Tamino, returning for Christi College, Oxford and in 2003 he was made an
Jupiter in Semele. In 1997 he sang Quint in Deborah
Honorary Doctor of Music by the University of St
Warner’s award-winning production of Britten’s The Turn Andrew’s. He was created a CBE in the 2004 New Year’s
of the Screw for The Royal Opera, and has since returned Honours. He is married to the author and literary critic,
for Caliban in Adès’s The Tempest, Don Ottavio in Don
Lucasta Miller. They live in London with their two children.
Giovanni under Pappano, and Vas̆ek in The Bartered
Bride under Haitink. In 1998 he made his debut at the
Munich Festival singing Nerone in David Alden’s
Dorothea Röschmann
production of L’incoronazione di Poppea, returning for
soprano
Tom Rakewell in The Rake’s Progress and the Male
Born in Flensburg, Germany,
Chorus in The Rape of Lucretia. He sang Janác̆ek’s Diary
Dorothea Röschmann made
of One who Vanished in a new translation by Seamus
her debut at the 1995
Heaney, staged by Deborah Warner in London, Paris,
Salzburg Festival as Susanna
Munich, Amsterdam and New York. Most recently he
under Harnoncourt and has
sang Don Ottavio at the Vienna State Opera and his first
since returned to the Festival
Aschenbach in a new production of Death in Venice for
many times to sing Countess
English National Opera.
Almaviva, Ilia, Servilia,
His recordings include Schubert’s Die schöne Müllerin
Nannetta, Pamina and Vitellia, with Mackerras, von
with Graham Johnson (Gramophone Award 1996); Tom Dohnányi and Abbado.
Rakewell with John Eliot Gardiner (Grammy Award,
At the Metropolitan Opera she has sung Susanna,
1999); and Belmonte with William Christie. Under his
Pamina and Ilia with Levine. At the Royal Opera House,
exclusive contract with EMI Classics, he has recorded
Covent Garden, her roles have included Pamina and
Schubert Lieder and Schumann Lieder (Gramophone
28
About the performers
Fiordiligi with Colin Davis and Countess Almaviva with
Thomas Quasthoff
bass-baritone
Pappano. At the Vienna Staatsoper she has appeared
as Susanna with Ozawa. With the Bayerische Staatsoper,
German bass-baritone
Munich, she has sung Zerlina, Susanna, Ännchen,
Thomas Quasthoff is
Drusilla, Almirena, Marzelline, Anne Trulove and
recognized as one of the most
Rodelinda. She is also closely associated with the
remarkable singers of his
Deutsche Staatsoper, Berlin, where her roles include
generation. A frequent guest
Ännchen with Mehta; Nannetta with Abbado; Pamina,
of both the Berlin and the
Fiordiligi, Susanna, Zerlina, Micäela and Donna Elvira
Vienna Philharmonic
with Barenboim and Elmira in Kaiser’s Croesus and the
Orchestras he appears
title role in Scarlatti’s Griselda, both with Jacobs. She has
regularly with the world’s leading orchestras under such
also appeared at La Monnaie, Brussels, as Norina, and
renowned conductors as Claudio Abbado, Daniel
at the Bastille, Paris, as Pamina.
Barenboim, Bernard Haitink, Mariss Jansons, Kurt
Her future engagements include Eva Die Meistersinger
Masur, Seiji Ozawa, Simon Rattle, Helmuth Rilling,
von Nürnberg at the Deutsche Staatsoper, the
Christian Thielemann and Franz Welser-Möst.
Marschallin Der Rosenkavalier at the Deutsche
Quasthoff’s debut in 1995 at the Oregon Bach Festival
Staatsoper and in Munich, Countess Almaviva in Munich
laid the basis for his career in the USA. Having since
and Donna Elvira at the Salzburg Festival.
returned numerous times for appearances with the most
Her recent concert appearances include the Royal
important orchestras and festivals, he regularly appears
Concertgebouw Orchestra, Vienna Philharmonic
at New York’s Carnegie Hall since his recital debut there
Orchestra, the Bayerischer Rundfunk and Concentus
in January 1999 (Schubert’s Winterreise). In 2003 he gave
Musicus with Harnoncourt; the Accademia Nazionale di his opera debut in the role of Don Fernando Fidelio with
the Berlin Philharmonic under Simon Rattle at the
Santa Cecilia with Sawallisch; the London Symphony
Salzburg Easter Festival. His debut at the Vienna
Orchestra with Pappano; the Berlin Philharmonic with
Staatsoper in the role of Amfortas Parsifal under Donald
Rattle, Haitink, Harnoncourt and Barenboim; the
Runnicles followed in 2004. In 2005 he returned to
Chicago Symphony also with Barenboim; the Munich
Vienna in the same role to perform under the baton of
Philharmonic with Levine and the Cleveland Orchestra
Simon Rattle.
with Welser-Möst.
Highlights of the 2007/08 season include concerts with
the Vienna and Berlin Philharmonic, Berliner
Barocksolisten, Boston Symphony, Staatskapelle Dresden
as well as a residency at London’s Wigmore Hall and
recitals in Berlin, Boston, at the Schubertiade festival in
Her recordings include Countess Almaviva with
Schwarzenberg and at the Salzburg Festival. Duo recitals
Harnoncourt; Pamina and Nannetta with Abbado;
are to be given with Bernarda Fink in Düsseldorf and
Puccini’s Suor Angelica with Pappano; Brahms’ Requiem
Dortmund as well as with Michael Schade in
with Rattle (winner of a Gramophone Award); Messiah with
Schwarzenberg and Berlin. As of 1999 Quasthoff has an
Paul McCreesh; Mahler’s Symphony No.4 with the Mahler
exclusive recording contract with the Deutsche
Chamber Orchestra and Daniel Harding; Handel’s Neun
Grammophon Gesellschaft (DGG). Three of his CDs
Deutsche Arien with the Akademie für Alte Musik Berlin;
have received Grammy awards.
Pergolesi’s Stabat Mater with David Daniels, Europa
Galante and Fabio Biondi and a disc of Schumann songs
Quasthoff began his vocal studies with Professor
with Ian Bostridge and Graham Johnson.
Charlotte Lehmann and Professor Huber-Contwig
(musicology) in Hannover, Germany. His national and
She studies with Vera Rozsa in London.
She has appeared in recital in Antwerp, Lisbon, Madrid,
Cologne, Brussels, New York, London, Vienna, the
Amsterdam Concertgebouw and the Edinburgh, Munich
and Schwarzenberg Festivals.
29
About the performers
international music awards include among others the
First Prize in the 1988 ARD International Music ompetition
Munich. Further prizes include the Shostakovich in 1996
(Moscow) and the Hamada Trust/Scotsman Festival Prize
(Edinburgh International Festival, 1996).
Quasthoff has held a professorship at the vocal
department of the Music Academy in Detmold, Germany
since 1996, where he maintained a vigorous teaching
schedule, before accepting a new position at the Hanns
Eisler Music University in Berlin in 2004. As of 2003 he
holds the patronage of the foundation of Children of
Chernobyl of Lower Saxony. He received from the
President of the German Republic the Order of Merit in
2005. One year later, he was awarded the European
Culture Price for Music at the Dresden Frauenkirche.
Julius Drake piano
The pianist Julius Drake lives
in London and specializes in
the field of chamber music,
working with many of the
world’s leading vocal and
instrumental artists, both in
recital and on disc.
He appears at all the major
music centres: in recent
seasons concerts have regularly taken him to the
Aldeburgh, Edinburgh, Munich, Salzburg, Schubertiade,
and Tanglewood Festivals; to Carnegie Hall and Lincoln
Centre, New York; the Concertgebouw, Amsterdam; the
Chatelet, Paris; the Musikverein and the Konzerthaus,
Vienna; and the Wigmore Hall and BBC Proms London.
Director of the Perth International Chamber Music
Festival in Australia from 2000-03, Drake was also
musical director for Deborah Warner’s staging of
Janác̆ek’s Diary of One who Vanished, touring to
Munich, London, Dublin, Amsterdam and New York.
Drake’s passionate interest in song has led to invitations
to devise song series for the Wigmore Hall, London, the
BBC and the Concertgebouw, Amsterdam. A series of
song recitals – Julius Drake and Friends – in the Middle
30
Temple Hall in London, features recitals with many
outstanding artists including Thomas Allen, Olaf Bär, Ian
Bostridge, Philip Langridge, Angelika Kirchschlager,
Sergei Leiferkus, Christopher Maltman, Mark Padmore,
Christoph Pregardien, Amanda Roocroft, Jose Van Dam
and Willard White.
Drake also frequently performs at international chamber
music festivals such as Kuhmo in Finland, Delft in the
Netherlands, Oxford in England and West Cork in
Ireland.
He is a Professor at the Royal Academy of Music in
London and regularly gives masterclasses. He has been
invited on to the jury of the 2009 Leeds International
Piano Competition.
Recordings include French Melodie with Hugues
Cuenod, French Sonatas with Nicholas Daniel, Britten
song with Derek Ragin, Schumann Lieder with Sophie
Daneman, Gurney with Paul Agnew, Sibelius Song with
Katarina Karneus, Shostakovich Sonatas with Annette
Bartholdy, Ives and Barber with Gerald Finley, Mahler
Lieder with Christianne Stotijn Spanish Song with
Didonato, Schoeck Sonatas with Christian Poltera and
Haydn, Schumann and Mahler Lieder with Coote. His
award winning recordings with Ian Bostridge (a
Gramophone Award and an Edison Award) include
Schumann Lieder, two volumes of Schubert Lieder,
Henze’s Songs from the Arabian, Britten Canticles, and
The English Songbook and La Bonne Chanson (with the
Belcea Quartet).
Highlights in the coming seasons include a programme
of Schubert at Carnegie Hall, New York; recitals in
Luxemburg and Paris with Simon Keenlyside;
performances at the Australian Chamber Music Festival
in Townsville; a ‘Wigmore Live’ recording with
Christopher Maltman, and a Grieg Song disc with
Katarina Karneus; a tour of Japan with Ian Bostridge;
and recitals in Amsterdam, Barcelona, Chicago,
Frankfurt, London, Madrid, and Vienna with Alice Coote,
Diana Damrau, Gerald Finley and Christianne Stotijn.