Act II. In the King's bedroom at Versailles the ceremony of the royal levee is taking place. This medley of laughable ceremonial and the practice of the highest refinement makes a sharp contrast with the wild ferment and discontent among the people, of which, however, no one hears anything in these rooms and will know nothing. So the commandant Massimelle is among those waiting because he has to lay before the King the death sentence on the unsubdued Swiss. Naturally the King thinks nothing about bringing an obsolete law into force again, and leaves the decision to Massimelle's wife, Blanchefleur. She begs Thallus's life for herself and wants to learn the fellow manners in her service. Silly as are the thoughts of this whole company, so also are those of Blanchefleur. Through a whim she has obtained the release of the young Swiss, now she wants as a reward to have diversion with him. The high authorities already are glad to play shepherds and shepherdesses; what would happen if they could have a real Swiss as a shepherd! Cleo, the court lady, is perfectly delighted with the idea and awaits with enjoyment the play in which Primus Thallus shall appear with Blanchefleur. But the play takes a serious turn, Primus Thallus sees no joke in the thing. To him, Blanchefleur appears as the image of his dreams, and yet he knows that this dream never can be a reality, at least not for a man to whom, as to this Swiss, love is not merely a form of amusement in life. So Blanchefleur has to give up her shepherd's dream and let Primus Thallus withdraw.
Act III. The earnest man is very quickly drawn in. In the ruined dining-hall of the palace of Massimelle, the sans-culottes are lodged. Favart, under whose direction the castle has been stormed, is vexed at his report for which Doris, his sweetheart, and the others with their wild drinking and quarrelling scarcely leave him the possibility. By chance the half-drunken men discover a secret door. They go down into the passage and drag out Blanchefleur who had concealed herself there. Favart wants her to play for the men, but he cannot prevail upon her to do it. With her graceful, distinguished air she refuses to have anything to do with the dirty, uncivilized men and smilingly allows herself to be condemned to death and led away to the frightful prison of the Temple. Hardly has she gone than Primus Thallus enters. He has been promoted by the Directory to be a captain as a reward because he has often been threatened with death by the royalists. His great courage certainly makes an impression on these savage troops, but as Massimelle outside is being led to the scaffold and he learns of the arrest of Blanchefleur only one thought rules him—to save the beautiful woman.
The scene changes to the underground prison of the Temple. One can hardly recognize the figure of Primus Thallus who presents himself here, but one must admit of these aristocrats that while they know how to live laughingly they also know how to die with a smile. While without the guillotine is fulfilling its awful task uninterruptedly, they are dancing and playing here underneath as though these were still the gayest days of the King's delights at Versailles. In vain Primus Thallus uses all his eloquence to persuade Blanchefleur to flee or to give him her hand because then he could obtain a pardon. She has only one reward for his faithfulness: a dance. Then when her name is called she dances with a light minuet step to the scaffold.
LOBETANZ
Opera in three acts; music by Ludwig Thuille; text by Otto Julius Bierbaum. Produced: Carlsruhe, February 6, 1898.
Characters
| Lobetanz | Tenor |
| The Princess | Mezzo-Soprano |
| The King | Bass |
| The Forester, the executioner, the judge | Speaking parts |
| A Travelling Student | Tenor |
Act I. This play takes place somewhere and somewhen but begins in a blooming garden in spring. And the most fragrant flowers in the garden are the lovely girls that play in it. Take care, Lobetanz; take care! Now that you have leaped over the wall into the garden, still take care! You are a travelling singer, your clothes are tattered; but you are a magnificent fellow and sing as only a bird can sing or a fellow who knows nothing about the illness of the Princess. What is the matter with her then? She no longer laughs as she once did, her cheeks are pale, she no longer sings but sighs. "Alas!" Oh, the maidens know what is the matter with her but no one asks the maidens. The poet-laureate today at the festival of the Early Rose Day will announce what is the matter with the child of the King. And the King is coming, the Princess and the people. And the poets proudly strut in and make known their wisdom. But that does not help. Now the sound of a violin is heard. How the Princess listens and now the player comes before her and fiddles and sings and the maid revives. Roses bloom on her cheeks; her eyes shine in looking at the violinist who is singing of the morning in May when they kissed each other, innocently dear, and played "bridegroom and bride." You must flee, Lobetanz, flee; that is magic with which you are subduing the child of the King.
Act II. Spring has awakened your heart, you happy singer, and has brought to life what was asleep deep within you. Now you may dream of what will be. And see, she comes to you, the sick Princess, to be restored to health by you. And she sits there by you in the branch of a linden tree. But alas, alas! The King and his hunting train are suddenly there and all things have an end.
Act III. In a dungeon sits the bird once so gay. For "dead, dead, dead must he be and so slip with hurrahs into the infernal abode." And they lead you to the gallows and tell you your sentence. And the King and the people, the envious singers and the Princess sick unto death on her bier are all there. Now choose your last present, you poor gallows bird. So let me once more sing. And, "see, Oh see, how the delicate face is covered with a rosy glow." He is singing her back to life, the lovely Princess, until finally she flees to his arms: "Thou art mine!" Now leave the gallows, there is a wedding today. "A great magician is Lobetanz, let the couple only look, the gallows shine with luck and lustre; spring has done wonders."