Zum Teufel mit David!: Roman (German Edition)

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Bist du von Sinnen? DAVID who has gone out, and now returns with a rule stuck in his belt and swinging in his hand a large piece of chalk tied to a string Here I am! What unhappiness you've caused! Could he still not know? He's even locked us in! What nonsense are you up to here? I'm preparing the ring here for the Masters.

Is there to be a singing? Now Eva, come, we must away. If you want to win Eva's hand, time and place will bring fortune close to you. Two apprentices enter carrying benches Now quickly away! Meister wird, wen die Prob' nicht reut. Listen, my dear friend, look after this knight for me here! I'll save you something good from the kitchen: What I will dare, how could I express it?

New is my heart, new my mind, new is everything I do. One thing alone I know, one thing I understand: If not with the sword, I must succeed even if I have to win you by singing as a Master. For you my possessions and blood! For you the poet's sacred resolve! EVA My heart, blessed glow, for you love's holy protection!

Agitated and brooding, Walther throws himself upon a raised ecclesiastical chair which has just been moved to the middle of the stage by the apprentices WALTHER Was soll ich beginnen?


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Neu ist mein Herz, neu mein Sinn, neu ist mir alles, was ich beginn'! Eines nur weiss ich, eines begreif' ich: Ist's mit dem Schwert nicht, muss es gelingen, gilt es als Meister euch zu ersingen. Sonst geht's nicht gut! Don't you know that? Haven't you ever been at a song contest? Wisst ihr das nicht? War't ihr noch nie bei 'nem Singgericht? Nuremberg's greatest Master, Hans Sachs, is teaching me the art; for a full year already he's been instructing me so that I may become a Scholar.

Cobbling and poetry I learn both together: When I've beaten the leather smooth I learn to enunciate vowels and consonants; when I've waxed the thread till it's firm and stiff, I well understand what makes a rhyme; swinging the bodkin, stitching with the awl, what is meant by blunt, and ringing, by measure, and number I've learned all that with care and attention: A song has several sections and strophes; who might at once find the correct rule, the right seam, and the correct thread, with well-fitted stanzas to sole the song properly?

And only then does the Aftersong come, let it not be short, and not too long, and let it contain no rhime which has already occurred in the stanza. Anyone who marks, knows and is familiar with all that is still not yet called Master. Der Singer Meisterschlag gewinnt sich nicht an einem Tag. Schuhmacherei und Poeterei, die lern' ich da alleinerlei; hab' ich das Leder glatt geschlagen, lern' ich Vokal und Konsonanz sagen; wichst' ich den Draht erst fest und steif, was sich dann reimt, ich wohl begreif'.

Wer alles das merkt, weiss und kennt, wird doch immer noch nicht Meister genennt. Do I want to be a cobbler? Rather introduce me to the art of singing. Who would belive how much trouble it is?

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The Masters' tones and melodies, so many in name and number, the strong and the gentle, who could know them all at once? What an endless string of tones! Every word and tone must ring out clearly where the voice rises and where it falls. Begin neither higher nor lower than the voice can reach. Be sparing with your breath, lest it run out and you even crack at the end.

Don't hum with your voice before the word, and don't let your mouth rumble on after the word. Don't alter the "flower" and "coloratura", let each ornament be in the Master's footsteps; if you were to change you'd go astray, lose your place and get into a muddle - even if everything else had gone well for you you would have sung your chance away!

Katie Fforde: Zum Teufel mit David (TV Movie ) - IMDb

Despite great industry and zeal I myself haven't yet got so far. Whenever I attempt it and don't succeed Hilf Gott! Will ich denn Schuster sein? Trotz grossem Fleiss und Emsigkeit, ich selbst noch bracht' es nicht so weit. So oft ich's versuch' und's nicht gelingt, my Master sings me the "Knee-Strap" melody.

Let this be an example to you, and forget your dreams of Master! For you must be a "Singer" and "Poet" before you reach the goal of "Master". When you have risen to the rank of Singer and sung the Masters' tones correctly, and have yourself added rhymes and words which you have yourself fitted correctly to a Master's tone, then you might carry off the Poet's prize.

Shall we complain to your Master? Or are you almost through with your chatter? For if I don't help you, without me everything gets done wrong! The Poet who, of his own endeavour, to words and rhymes of his own invention fashions a new melody from the tones: Soll man's dem Meister klagen? Wirst dich bald deines Schwatzens entschlagen? If I must sing I can only succeed if I find the proper tone for the verse. Yes, if I'm not at work you put the chair and the box up wrong!

Is it a song-school today? Let me tell you, the small box! It's only a trial! During the following chorus the apprentices, under the supervision of David, take down the large construction which they had put up in the middle of the stage and erect in its place a smaller stage.

On this they place a stool with a little desk before it, next to it a large black slate on which a piece of chalk is hung by a string. Around this construction black curtains are hung, which can be drawn behind and at the two sides, and finally also in front WALTHER So bleibt mir einzig der Meisterlohn!

Muss ich singen kann's nur gelingen, find' ich zum Vers auch den eig'nen Ton. Ja, fehl' ich beim Werk, verkehrt nur richtet ihr Stuhl und Gemerk! He's certainly set his sights on high honours: He's got the Blow rhymes off pat, he sings the Poor and Hungry melody smoothly; but the Hard Kick is the one he knows best, his Master has kicked that one well into him! Today it's not me; someone else is facing the court: So set up the box properly for him! The board against the wall so that it's nice and handy for the Marker!

Are you getting nervous? Before him many an applicant has sung his chance away. He allows you seven faults which he marks up with chalk there; anyone incurring more than seven faults has sung his chance away and is utterly undone! The Marker is on the watch. Good luck for the Mastersinging! May you win the garland! The flowered garland of fine silks - will it be awarded to the knight?

Die "Schlagreime" fest er inne hat, "Arm Hungerweise" singt er glatt! Heut' bin ich's nicht. Ein andrer stellt sich zum Gericht: Drum richtet nur fein das Gemerk dem ein! Die Tafel an die Wand, so dass sie recht dem Merker zur Hand! Wird euch wohl bang? Vor ihm schon mancher Werber versang.

Nun nehmt euch in acht: At the back of the stage there is a long, low bench for the apprentices. Walther, angered by the boys' mockery, has slumped down on the front bench. Pogner and Beckmesser have entered from the sacristy, conversing; the apprentices wait respectfully by the bench. Die Lehrbuben harren ehrerbietig vor der hinteren Bank stehend.

I mean, of all things should you worry about that? If you cannot command my daughter's wishes, how could you be wooing her at all? That's precisely why I'm asking you to speak to the child on my behalf: How should I fend off disaster? You seek me in the song-school here? Wie wehrt' ich da 'nem Ungemach? Ihr sucht mich in der Singschul' hie? I freely admit, what drove me from the country to Nuremberg was only my love of Art. If I forgot to tell you that yesterday, I must today be bold and proclaim it out loud: I should like to be a Mastersinger.

Admit me, Master, to your guild! Kunz Vogelgesang and Konrad Nachtigall have entered. Just listen, what a very unusual thing! This knight, well known to me, has turned to the Master's art. He turns and sees Walther Who is that man? The old days seem to have returned. What a smiling air! Kunz Vogelgesang und Konrad Nachtigall sind eingetreten. Walther erblickend Wer ist der Mensch? Wie der Blick ihm lacht! Keep your eye on him! And may I then hope, if I am this day allowed to compete for the prize, to be called a Mastersinger?

A skittle can't stand on its head! But today there's a trial: I'll propose you; the Masters will lend me a willing ear. I am Fritz Kothner. Are you here, Veit Pogner? Auf den hab' acht! Und darf ich denn hoffen, steht heut' mir noch offen, zu werben um den Preis, dass Meistersinger ich heiss'? Auf dem Kopf steht kein Kegel! Doch heut' ist Freiung, ich schlag' euch vor, mir leihen die Meister ein willig Ohr.

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Die Meistersinger sind nun alle angelangt, zuletzt auch Hans Sachs. Seid ihr da, Veit Pogner? ZORN Bleibt niemals fort.

Ein Herz und eine Krone / Roman Holiday

Er setzt sich wieder nieder. If it please you, shall we elect the Marker? Sachs ist zur Stell'! Beliebt's, wir schreiten zur Merkerwahl? I'll gladly let him have my position and office. Leave that for now. I ask leave to speak on an important proposal. That beautiful festival, St. John's Day, as you know, we celebrate tomorrow: Their solemn song-school in the church nave the Masters themselves give up; with merry music out of the gate and on to the open meadow they proceed, in the din of the brilliant festival; they permit the people to listen to the open singing with their laymen's ears.

Victors prizes are awarded for trial and competitive singing, and both are praised far and wide, the gift and also the melody. Now, God has made me a rich man, and everone gives what he can, so I had to think carefully what I might not come into dishonour: Widely travelled in German lands, it has often vexed me that people honour the burgher so little, call him stingy and peevish: That we alone in the broad German empire still cherish Art - by that they set little store: Die Singschul' ernst im Kirchenchor die Meister selbst vertauschen, mit Kling und Klang hinaus zum Tor auf off'ne Wiese zieh'n sie vor, bei hellen Festes Rauschen das Volk sie lassen lauschen dem Freigesang mit Laienohr.

So hear, Masters, the gift which I have decreed as prize: The man's his word! Now they'll see what a Nuremberger can do! Therefore people will praise you far and wide, you, the worthy burgher Veit Pogner! Now, get to work! I give no lifeless gift: The Master's Guild recognises the prize: The man to whom you Masters award the prize the maid can refuse, but never solicit another: Perhaps you have already gone too far.

A girl's heart and the Master's Art do not always glow with equal ardour; a woman's opinion, quite untutored, seems to me to be as valid as popular opinion. If you wish to show the people how highly you honour Art; if you let the girl choose for herself, but do not want her to oppose the verdict: Yes, that would be fine!

Farewell then, Art and Master-tones! Certainly there's no sense in that! Would you abandon the rules to the people! You'll admit I know the rules as well; and to see that the guild preserves the rules I have busied myself this many a year. Wem ihr Meister den Preis zusprecht, die Maid kann dem verwehren, doch nie einen andren begehren. Vielleicht schon ginget ihr zu weit. Wollt ihr nun vor dem Volke zeigen, wie hoch die Kunst ihr ehrt, und lasst ihr dem Kind die Wahl zu eigen, wollt nicht, dass dem Spruch es wehrt: Gewiss, das hat keinen Sinn! Wie ihr doch tut! SACHS earnestly continuing For that reason you might never regret that each year on St John's Day, instead of letting the people come to you, from your high Masters' clouds you yourselves should turn to the people.

You want to please the people; well, I should have thought it in your interest to let them tell you themselves whether they took delight in it. So that people and Art may bloom and thrive equally do it in this way, say I, Hans Sachs. So I ask if the Masters are pleased to accept the gift and rules as I have stated them? Und ob ihr der Natur noch seid auf rechter Spur, das sagt euch nur, wer nichts weiss von der Tabulatur.

Gassenhauer dichtet er meist. Die Meister erheben sich beistimmend. He must be a bachelor. Of younger wax than you and me the wooer must be if Eva is to bestow the prize on him. Has anyone seeking trial announced himself? Back to the agenda for the day! And hear me report that I, following a Master's duty, recommend a young knight who wishes to be elected, and this day seeks to become a Mastersinger!

Sir Stolzing, come hither! Is that the way it's heading, Veit? Should we be glad? Or is there a danger? In any case it carries much weight that Master Ponger speaks for him.


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Ein Junggesell muss es sein. Fragt nur den Sachs! Ist jemand gemeld't, der Freiung begehrt? Mein Junker Stolzing, kommt herbei! Geht's da hinaus, Veit? Though I wish him good fortune I do not overlook the rules. Masters, put the questions! The last of his line, he recently left his estate and castle and came hither to Nuremberg to become a burgher here. WALTHER At the quiet hearth in winter time, when castle and courtyard were snowed up, I often read in an old book left to me by my ancestor how once Spring so sweetly laughed, and how it then soon awoke anew.

Walter von der Vogelweide he was my master. Tut, Meister, die Fragen! Herr Walther von der Vogelweid', der ist mein Meister gewesen. WALTHER When the meadow was free from frost and summertime returned, what previously in long winter nights the old book had told me now resounded loudly in the forests' splendour, I heard it ring out brightly: So your song will be in this vein? I think the knight is in the wrong place. Von Finken und Meisen lerntet ihr Meisterweisen?

Das wird denn wohl auch darnach sein! WALTHER Was Winternacht, was Waldespracht, was Buch und Hain mich wiesen, was Dichtersanges Wundermacht tried in secret to disclose to me; what my horse's step at a trial of arms, what a round-dance at a marry gathering gave me to attend to thoughtfully: Therefore, Master Beckmesser, shut yourself in alone! Sixtus Beckmesser is the Marker; here in the box he silently performs his strict task.

Seven faults he allows you, he marks them up with chalk there: Drum allein, Meister Beckmesser, schliesst euch ein! Wohl gibt's mit der Kreide manche Qual. Er verneigt sich gegen Walther. Sixtus Beckmesser Merker ist; hier im Gemerk verrichtet er still sein strenges Werk. Sieben Fehler gibt er euch vor, die merkt er mit Kreide dort an: He seats himself in the box He listens very carefully; but so that he doesn't undermine your courage, as might happen if you saw him, he leaves you in peace and shuts himself up here.

May God be with you. With the last words he stretches his head out with a scornfully familiar nod, then pulls across the front curtains, so that he becomes invisible KOTHNER to Walther What the guiding principles of your song should be, learn from the Table of Rules. The apprentices have taken the "Leges Tabulaturae" from the wall and are holding it out to Kothner, who reads from it Reading "Each unit of a Mastersong shall present a proper balance of its different sections, against which no one shall offend.

A section consist of two stanzas, which shall have the same melody; the stanza is a group of so many lines, the line has its rhyme at the end. Thereupon follows the Aftersong which is also to be so many lines long and have its own special melody which is not to occur in the stanza. Each Mastersong shall have several units in this ratio; and whoever composes a new song which does not for more than four syllabies encroach upon other Master's melodies - his song may win a -master's prize.

Darauf so folgt der Abgesang, der sei auch etlich' Verse lang, und hab' sein' besond're Melodei, als nicht im Stollen zu finden sei. Like the clanging of bells the throng of jubilation rings out! The forest, how soon it answers to the call which brought it new life, and struck up the sweet song of spring! During this, repeated groans of discouragement and scratchings of the chalk are heard from the Marker.

Walther hears them too, and after a momentary pause of discomposure continues. In a thorn-hedge, consumed with jealousy and grief, winter, grimly armed, had to hide himself away: That was the call in my breast when it was still ignorant of love. Der Wald, wie bald antwortet er dem Ruf, der neu ihm Leben schuf: In einer Dornenhecken, von Neid und Gram verzehrt, musst' er sich da verstecken, der Winter, grimmbewehrt: Er steht vom Stuhle auf Doch: So rief es mir in der Brust, als noch ich von Liebe nicht wusst'.

I felt it rising deep within me as if it were waking me from a dream; my heart with its quivering beats filled my whole bosom: He holds out the slate, completely covered with chalk marks. My lady's praises am I only now reaching with my melody. Masters, look at the slate: I shouldn't belive it, even if you all swear to it!

Am I to remain unheard by all? Die Brust mit Lust antwortet sie dem Ruf, der neu ihr Leben schuf; stimmt nun an das hehre Liebeslied. Hier habt ihr vertan! Ihr Meister, schaut die Tafel euch an: Doch dass der Junker hier versungen hat, I'll first show before the Masters' assembly. To be sure, it will be a hard task: Of false number and false grouping I'll make absolutely no mention: Who would seriously call this a unit? I'll accuse him only of Blind Meaning; say, could a meaning be more meaningless?

I must admit no one could descry its end. It made one uneasy! ZORN And nothing behind it! Or declare outright that he has sung his chance away? Not everyone shares your opinion. Zwar wird's 'ne harte Arbeit sein: Wer meint hier im Ernst einen Bar? Auf "blinde Meinung" klag' ich allein, Sagt, konnt' ein Sinn unsinniger sein? Es ward einem bang!

ZORN Auch gar nichts dahinter! Nicht jeder eure Meinung teilt. If you wish to measure according to rules something which does not agree with your rules, forget your own ways, and first seek its rules! Now you hear it: Sachs is opening a loop-hole for bunglers who come and go as they please and follow their own frivolous course. Sing to the people on the market-place and in the streets; here admittance is only by the rules. Why so little calm? Your judgement, it seems to me, would be more mature if you listened more carefully.

That's why I'll finish by sayng that we must hear the knight to the end. But it is written: Des Ritters Lied und Weise, sie fand ich neu, doch nicht verwirrt; verliess er unsre Gleise, schritt er doch fest und unbeirrt. Wollt ihr nach Regeln messen, was nicht nach eurer Regeln Lauf, der eignen Spur vergessen, sucht davon erst die Regeln auf! Singet dem Volk auf Markt und Gassen! Hier wird nach den Regeln nur eingelassen. Was doch so wenig Ruh'! Doch da nun steht geschrieben: Rather should he take care that nothing pinches my toes!

But since my cobbler is a great poet thinas look bad for my footwear! Look how sloppy they are, they flap everywhere! All his verses and rhymes I'd glady have him leave at home, histories, plays, and farces too if he'd bring me my new shoes tomorrow! SACHS You do right to remind me; but is it fitting, Masters, tell me, that, if I make a little verse for even the donkey-driver's soles, I should write nothing on those of our highly learned town clerk?

Walther, much put out, remounts the Singer's seat The little verse which would be worthy of you I with all my humble poetic gifts have not yet found; but it will surely come to me now, when I've heard the knight's song - so let him sing on undisturbed! What more should we hear? Unless it were to delude you? Each mistake, great and small, see it recorded exactly on the slate.

A "Patch-Song" here between the stanzas! A quite incomprehensible melody! A confused brew of all the tones! If you aren't put off by the toil, Masters, count the faults with me! He'd have failed with his eighth, but no one has yet got as far as he: Say, do you elect him Master? I see it clearly! It looks bad for the knight! Let Sachs think of him what he will, he must be silent here in the Singing-school! Is everyone of us not at liberty to decide whom he wishes as colleague? If every stranger were welcomed what worth would the Masters then have?

How the knight is toiling away! Sachs has chosen him for his own. So put a stop to it! Up, Masters, vote and raise your hands! If I yield to superior forces here I foresee it will trouble me. How gladly I should see him admitted. He'd be a worthy son-in-law.

If I am now to bid the victor welcome, who knows if my child will choose him! I admit that it torments me - will Eva choose the Master? Jeden Fehler, gross und klein, seht genau auf der Tafel ein. Ein "Flickgesang" hier zwischen den Stollen! Mag Sachs von ihm halten, was er will, Hier in der Singschul' schweig' er still! Bleibt einem Jeden doch unbenommen, wen er sich zum Genossen begehrt? Drum macht ein End'! In vast nocturnal horde how they all begin to croak with their hollow voices - Magpies, crows and jackdaws!

There rises up on a pair of golden wings a wondrous bird: My heart swells with sweet pain, in my need wings sprout; it soars in bold progress to fly through the air up from the tombs of cities to its native hill to the green Vogelweide where Master Walther once set me free; there I sing bright and clear in honour of my dearest lady: Farewell, you Masters here below! With a gesture of proud contempt, Walther leaves the Singer's Chair and the building.


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There is general confusion, augmented by the apprentices, who shoulder the benches and Marker's box, causing hindrance and disorder to the Masters who are crowding to the door SACHS Ha, what spirit! What glow of inspiration! You Masters, be quiet and listen! Listen when Sachs beseeches you! Master Marker, favour us with some peace! Every endeavour is in vain! One can scarcely hear oneself speak! No one will heed the knight. There's spirit for you, to carry on singing! His heart's in the right place: If I, Hans Sachs, make verse and shoes, he's a knight and a poet too! Ade, ihr Meister, hienied'!

Kaum vernimmt man sein eig'nes Wort; des Junkers will keiner achten: Das Herz auf dem rechten Fleck, ein wahrer Dichter-Reck! The flowery garland of fine silks - will it be granted to the knight? Sachs remains alone in the front, looking pensively at the empty seat: Between the two houses is a narrow alley winding towards the back of the stage.

One house, grand in style, is Pogner's; the other, simple in style, is Sachs's. In front of Pogner's house there is a lime-tree, in front of Sachs's an elder. It is a pleasant summer evening and during this scene night falls. Flowers and ribbons in plenty! Sing your silly songs alone! If you weren't so proud you'd look round - if you weren't so silly!

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