SIXTH PART.

Master Anton started early The next morning for the city, To find out that trumpet blower. By St. Fridolin's cathedral He turned off into a side-street. From the other side there came with Rapid steps the boatman Martin, And they met just at the corner, Bumping up against each other. "'Pon my soul," cried out the worthy Anton, as he rubbed his forehead; "Your thick skull is hard as iron." "Yours is not upholstered either With soft wool or springy sea-weed," Was the boatman's ready answer. "And what business have you running Through the city's streets thus early?" "I can ask the same," said Anton. "I seek someone who last evening From the shore my boat unfastened," Answered him the boatman Martin. "He may be my man," said Anton. "When I came down to the river, There I found my boat turned over On the shore--the rudder broken, And the fastening cut asunder. If a thunderstorm would only Sweep away these wicked people, Who like thieves at night are roving On the Rhine in borrowed vessels." "And the trumpet blow," said Anton.-- "But whenever I shall find him, To the justice I shall take him. He must pay me; even for the Black and blue mark which you gave me, I shall bring a heavy reckoning. It is shameful how this fellow Gives me such vexation!" Thus the Boatman scolding went on farther. "And I do not see myself, why I should take such extra trouble To hunt up this mischief-maker," Said old Anton to himself then. "Seems to me it is already Just the time when honest people For their morning draught are longing." To the "Golden Button's" shady Tap-room turned the worthy Anton Now his steps, and through a side-door In he stepped: he deemed it wiser Thus to hide before the public Such an early morning visit. Many worthy folks already Had there quietly assembled O'er their brimming foaming bumpers. Like red roses shone their faces, And like radishes their noses. "Want a big glass?" asked the waitress Our old Anton, who assented: "To be sure! hot is the weather, And when I woke up, already In my throat I felt a dryness." So good Anton soon was drinking From his large Bohemian bumper, Turning over in his mind well, How he should despatch his business. In the private room was sitting, Just then Werner with the landlord, Who had served for his guest's breakfast A fine slice of red smoked salmon, And commenced with the young stranger An instructive conversation: On the vintage in the Rhine-Pfalz, How the price of hops was standing, How they fared in time of war there. Now and then, to sound the stranger, He threw slyly out some questions, Whence he came and what his business. Still he gained no satisfaction; But quite shrewdly thus he reasoned: "He's no bookworm, for he seemeth Much too martial--nor a soldier Either, as he looks too modest; He may be a necromancer, An adept in all dark witchcraft, Alchemy, and other black arts. Wait, I'll catch thee;" and he turned their Talk to hidden buried treasures, And to midnight exorcisms. "Yes, my friend, here near the city Lies a sandbank in the river. At the time of Fridolinus Heaps of gold coin there were buried. One who knows, a clever fellow, Could there dig and make his fortune." "I already saw the sandbank," Said young Werner, "when I rowed there On the Rhine last night by moonlight." "What, you know it then already?" Said the landlord much astonished. "Have I caught thee?" he thought, keenly Looking at young Werner's pockets, If he could not hear a jingling Of great lots of golden money. "Have I caught thee?" also gladly To himself said worthy Anton. "It is, after all, the right thing Thus to take an early potion." From the spot where he was seated He had heard their conversation; And besides upon the table. By the stranger's sword and cocked hat, Also lay the sought-for trumpet. Drawing near, then, he said gravely: "With your leave, if you're no spirit-- And that seems to me unlikely. As you've just enjoyed your breakfast-- Then the Baron sends you greeting, And invites you to his castle. I will take you there with pleasure." Thus he spoke. Young Werner listened, Half astonished, and went with him. Smirking, thought the cunning landlord: "You will get it, my young master; You believed you had full freedom Thus to rove about the river, Spying out long-buried treasures. But the Baron found you out soon, And will stop your bold proceedings. Now you'll get it, when he treats you, From his amply-furnished stores, to Some of his well-seasoned curses. Like a top your head will spin then, And your ears buzz like a beehive. But this will concern you solely. If he keep you in a dungeon Of your horse I'll take possession; It will well score off your reckoning." Once more in the hall together Were the Baron and his daughter, And again he smoked his pipe there, When the ponderous folding-doors were Opened, and, with modest reverence, Werner entered. "If you only," Said the faithful Anton, "only Knew, your gracious lordship, what a Heavy task it was to find him!" Keenly did the Baron's eyes rest On young Werner, passing muster; By her father, lightly leaning On his arm-chair, Margaretta Bashfully looked at the stranger, And with both the first impression Of each other was most happy. "It is you, then," said the Baron, "Who last night have startled us here With your trumpet-blowing, therefore I should like to speak to you now." "This commences well," thought Werner, And, embarrassed, cast his eyes down To the ground. But the old Baron, Kindly smiling, thus continued: "You believe, perhaps, I shall now Call you to account for having Made loud music near the castle? You are wrong, 'tis not my business; For no license is here needed On the Rhine; if anybody Wants to catch a cold by playing Late at night there, he may do so. No, I only wish to ask you, Whether you would like here often As last night to blow the trumpet? But I fear I am mistaken. You are not by trade a player, May be one of those damned scribblers, Secretary to a foreign Embassy, as many are now Coaching all about the country, Just to spoil all that the soldier's Ready sword had once accomplished?" "Not bad either," thought young Werner; Still he liked the Baron's manner. "I am no professional player," Said he, "and still less a scribbler. As for my part, all the inkstands In the Holy Roman Empire Might dry up without my caring. I am not in any service, But as my own lord and master I am travelling for my pleasure, And await whatever fortune On my pathway may be blooming." "Very good, then," said the Baron. "If it stands thus, you may well hear Everything I have to tell you; But before we go on farther, With old wine it must be seasoned." Cleverly his thoughts divining, Margaretta, from the cellar, Now brought up two dusty bottles Which, with spider-webs all covered, In the sand had lain half-buried; Brought with them two fine-cut goblets, Which she filled and then presented. "This wine ripened long before the War raged in our German country," Said the Baron. "'Tis a famous Choice old wine which grew at Grenzach. Brightly in the glass it sparkles, Like pure gold its colour shineth, And a fragrance rises from it Like the finest greenhouse flowers. Master Trumpeter, ring glasses!" Loudly then rang both their goblets. Emptying his, the Baron spun out Farther still the conversation. "My young friend, you know, as long as This world lasts, there will be people Who are fond of hobby-horses. Some are mystics and ascetics, Others love old wine or brandy. Some, antiquities are seeking, Others are for chafers craving; Many others make bad verses. 'Tis a curious joke that each one Much prefers to choose a calling Most unsuited to his nature. I thus also ride my hobby, And this hobby is the noble Muse of music who regales me. As King Saul's deep sorrow vanished At the sound of David's harp once, So with cheering sounds of music Do I banish age's inroads And the gout, my old disturber. When sometimes in tempo presto I an orchestra am leading, Oft I think I'm once more riding At the head of my brave squadrons. Right wing, charge the enemy! charge! At them now you piercing violins! Fire away you kettle-drums now! In the town here there are many Skilful players--though among them Is a want of sense artistic, And of connoisseurship, only Their good will doth hide their failings. Violin, flute, also viol, All these parts are well supported And the contrabass is perfect. But one player still is wanting; And, my friend, what is a general Without orderlies, without a Fugleman the line of battle, And a band without the trumpet? "Once 'twas different These old walls can Hear him still, the valiant Rassmann, The chief trumpeter of my squadrons. Ha! that was a noble blowing! Rassmann, wherefore didst thou die? "Still as clear as on his last day, Do I see him at the shooting Festival at Laufenburg. His mustache was fiercely twisted, Bright and glistening was his trumpet, And his riding-boots were shining Like a mirror; I was chuckling. ''Tis a point of honour,' said he. 'I must all these Swiss astonish With myself and with my trumpet.' "Clear and cheerful rang out yonder Bugle-horns and trumpets; but as O'er the choir of forest singers Sounds the nightingale's sweet warbling, So above all rang out loudly Rassmann's wondrous trumpet-blowing. When we met, his cheeks were scarlet, And fatigued appeared his breathing. ''Tis a point of honour,' said he; And blew on still. Then were silenced All the trumpeters from Frickthal, Those from Solothurn and Aarau, By the trumpeter great Rassmann. Once again we met, 'twas evening. In the 'Golden Swan' he sat then; Like a giant 'mid the pigmies Looked he in this crowd of players. Many were the goblets emptied By the trumpeters from Frickthal, And from Solothurn and Aarau, But the most capacious goblet Was drank out by my brave Rassmann. And with fiery Castelberger, Which grows on the Aar by Schinznach, He at last filled up his trumpet. ''Tis a point of honour,' said he; Drank it out at one long swallow. 'To your health my worthy colleagues! Thus drinks trumpet-blower Rassmann.' Midnight had already passed by, Under tables lay some snoring, But with steady step and upright Started Rassmann from the tavern. On the Rhine with mocking humour He poured forth a roguish tune yet, Then a misstep! Poor, poor Rassmann! Straight he fell into the river, And the Rhine's tremendous whirlpool Thundered foaming and engulfed him, Him the bravest trumpet-blower. Ha! that was a noble blowing! Rassmann, wherefore didst thou die?" Deeply moved the Baron told this; Then continued after pausing: "My young friend, and think, last evening On the Rhine a trumpet rang out Like a greeting from his spirit, And a tune I heard performed there, Such a wilderness of sounds, and Played in Rassmann's finest manner. If we only had that trumpet, Then the gap would be filled up well. And once more I'd lead a full band, As it were to frays of music. Therefore hear now my proposal: Stay with us here in my castle. Paralysed is now the music In the forest-city, blow then New life into her old bones." Thoughtfully spoke then young Werner: "Noble lord, you do me honour, But I nourish a misgiving. Slim and straight have I thus grown up, Have not learnt the art of bending My proud back in any service." Said the Baron: "Take no trouble On that head; because the service Of the arts enslaves nobody. Only want of understanding Makes one lose one's independence. Be assured, nought is required Of you but some merry music. Only, if in idle moments You would write for me a letter, Or with my accounts would help me, I should thank you; for an ancient Soldier finds the pen a burden." Still young Werner hesitated; But a glance at Margaretta, And the clouds of doubt all vanished. "Noble lord," he said, "I'll stay then, On the Rhine shall be my home now!" "Bravo!" said the Baron kindly. "From the prompting of the moment Have the best results proceeded; Evil springs from hesitation. Master Trumpeter ring glasses! With the golden wine of Grenzach, With a hearty grasp of hands thus Let us seal our new-made contract." Turning then to Margaretta: "I present to you, my daughter, This new member of our household." Then young Werner's silent greeting Was returned by Margaretta. "Follow me now through the castle, My young friend, that I may show you Where you will abide in future. In the tower there I have the Very room for a musician, O'er the Rhine and mountains looking; And the radiant morning sun will Wake you early from your slumber. There you cosily can nestle. And the trumpet will sound well there." From the hall they both proceeded. From the hall the Baron's daughter Also went, and in the garden Gathered cowslips and sweet violets, Also other fragrant flowers, Speaking to herself: "How lonely Must the young man feel here, coming Thus to dwell with utter strangers! And, besides, the tower-room looks With its whitewashed walls so naked, That I think my pretty nosegay Will do much for its adornment."