"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 gla.s.s it sparkles, Like pure gold its colour shineth, And a fragrance rises from it Like the finest greenhouse flowers.

Master Trumpeter, ring gla.s.ses!"

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 n.o.ble 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 contraba.s.s 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 Ra.s.smann, The chief trumpeter of my squadrons.

Ha! that was a n.o.ble blowing!

Ra.s.smann, 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 Ra.s.smann'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 Ra.s.smann.

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 Ra.s.smann.

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 Ra.s.smann.'

Midnight had already pa.s.sed by, Under tables lay some snoring, But with steady step and upright Started Ra.s.smann from the tavern.

On the Rhine with mocking humour He poured forth a roguish tune yet, Then a misstep! Poor, poor Ra.s.smann!

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 n.o.ble blowing!

Ra.s.smann, 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 Ra.s.smann'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: "n.o.ble 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 n.o.body.

Only want of understanding Makes one lose one's independence.

Be a.s.sured, 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.

"n.o.ble 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 gla.s.ses!

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."

SEVENTH PART.

THE EXCURSION TO THE MOUNTAIN LAKE.

Azure heavens, glowing sunlight, Bees' low humming, larks' gay carols, Clear as gla.s.s the Rhine's green waters.