NOTE
[English]
[Français]
[Parallel]
New Version
of
Les Contes d’Hoffmann
(The Tales of Hoffman)
Opera in Four Acts
With an original and novel first Act and other important changes
Book by Jules Barbier
Music by
J. Offenbach
New English version by Charles Alfred Byrne
As performed, for the first time in America at the
Manhattan Opera House,
under the direction of
Oscar Hammerstein.
English Version, 1907, by Steinway & Sons.
Charles E. Burden, Publisher, Steinway Hall
107-109 East 14th Street
Transcriber’s note: Both the English and the French texts are known to have a significant number of errors, misprints, and inconsistencies. They are here presented without correction.
New Version
of
Les Contes d’Hoffmann
(The Tales of Hoffman)
Opera in Four Acts
With an original and novel first Act and other important changes
Book by Jules Barbier
Music by
J. Offenbach
New English version by Charles Alfred Byrne
As performed, for the first time in America at the
Manhattan Opera House,
under the direction of
Oscar Hammerstein.
English Version, 1907, by Steinway & Sons.
Charles E. Burden, Publisher, Steinway Hall
107-109 East 14th Street
Dramatis Personæ.
- Hoffmann
- Counselor Lindorf
- Coppelius
- Dapertutto
- Doctor Miracle
- Spalanzani
- Crespel
- Andres
- Cochenille
- Frantz
- Luther
- Nathanael
- Hermann
- Stella
- Giulietta
- Olympia
- Antonia
- Nicklausse
- The Muse
- A Ghost
Argument
In the first act, which is really a prologue, Hoffmann, a young poet, enters the tavern of Luther to meet his companions, and drinks to drown his sorrows. They think he is in love, but he answers, all that is past, and tells the story of his three loves.
A physician’s drawing room. Spalanzani has invited a large company to witness the accomplishments of his daughter, Olympia. She sings to general applause, and Hoffmann falls desperately in love with her. As the guests go to supper, Hoffmann tells her of his passion and thinks he finds a responsive echo in her. There is dancing, and she waltzes him off his feet. A Dr. Coppelius comes in to say he has been swindled by Spalanzani. He slips into Olympia’s room, from which a noise of breaking is heard. Coppelius, out of revenge, has smashed Olympia. She was only an automaton. Hoffmann is astonished.
At Venice, in the house of Giulietta, beloved of Schlemil, who takes the arrival of Hoffmann very ungraciously. Hoffmann cares nothing for Giulietta, but she is bribed by Dapertutto to make Hoffmann love her, and she succeeds by making him believe, that he is her ideal. But as a proof of his love she wants Hoffmann to get the key of her room away from Schlemil. Hoffmann demands the key; Schlemil tells him to come and take it, and they fight. Schlemil is killed. Hoffmann takes the key and rushes to Giulietta’s room, and finding nobody, comes back, only to see her riding off in her gondola, laughing at him, and with her arms around another man’s neck. Hoffmann is disgusted.
Antonia has been told by her father, Crespel, to sing no more. When Hoffmann, who has long loved her, comes, he wonders why, but he soon learns by overhearing a conversation between Crespel and an evil person called Doctor Miracle that Antonia is afflicted with consumption. He then begs her also not to sing, and she promises him. When Hoffmann goes, Miracle comes in and tells her it is all nonsense, to sing as much as she likes; but she will not break her promise to Hoffmann. Miracle then causes the ghost of Antonia’s mother to appear, and to her prayers the girl yields. Miracle urges her on and on, until she is utterly exhausted. She falls dying, and her father receives her last breath. Hoffmann is heartbroken.
A return to the scene of the first act. Hoffmann has told his stories. His companions leave him. The Muse appears and tells him that she is the only mistress to follow, the only one who will remain true to him. His spirit flickers a moment with gratitude. Then his head sinks on the table, and he sleeps.
The Tales of Hoffmann
Act I.
(The Tavern of Martin Luther. The interior of a German inn. Tables and benches.)
Chorus of Students.
Drig, drig, drig, master Luther,
Spark of hades,
Drig, drig, drig, for us more beer,
For us thy wine,
Until morning,
Fill my glass,
Until morning,
Fill our pewter Mugs!
Nathanael.
Luther is a brave man,
Tire, lan, laire,
T’is to-morrow that we brain him,
Tire, lan, la!
Chorus.
Tire, lon, la!
Luther (going from table to table).
Here, gentlemen, here.
Hermann.
His cellar is a goodly spot,
Tire lon, laire,
’Tis tomorrow we devast it,
Tire lon la!
Chorus.
Tire lon la!
(Knocking of glasses.)
Luther.
Here, gentlemen, here.
Wilhelm.
His wife is a daughter of Eve,
Tire lan laire,
’Tis to-morrow we abduct her,
Tire lon la.
Chorus.
Tire lon la!
Luther.
Here, gentlemen, here.
Chorus.
Drig, drig, drig, master Luther,
etc., etc.
(The students sit drinking and smoking.)
Nathanael.
And Luther, my goodly vat,
What have you done with our Hoffman.
Hermann.
T’is your wine poisoned him,
You’ve killed him faith of Herrmann,
Give us back Hoffmann.
All.
Give us Hoffmann.
Lindorf (aside).
To the devil, Hoffmann.
Nathanael.
Let them bring him to us
Or your last day has dawned.
Luther.
Gentlemen, he comes.
(He opens the door, and Nicklausse is with him.)
All.
Hurrah, ’tis he.
Lindorf (aside).
Let’s watch him.
Hoffmann (entering with sombre voice).
Good day, friends.
Nicklausse.
Good-day.
Hoffmann.
A chair, a glass,
A pipe...
Nicklausse (mocking).
Pardon, my lord, without displeasing,
I drink, smoke and sit like you... place for two.
Chorus.
He’s right... place for both of them.
(Hoffmann and Nicklausse sit down, Hoffmann has head in his hands.)
Nicklausse (humming).
Notte a giorno mal dormire...
Hoffmann (brusquely).
Shut up, in devil’s name.
Nicklausse (quietly).
Yes, master.
Hermann (to Hoffmann).
Oh, oh, whence comes this ill temper?
Nathanael (to Hoffmann).
It’s as if one did not know you.
Hermann.
On what thorn have you trod?
Hoffmann.
Alas, on a dead herb
With the iced breath of the north.
Nicklausse.
And there by this door,
On a drunkard who sleeps.
Hoffmann.
’Tis true... that rascal, by Jove, I envy him.
A drink. Like him, let’s sleep in the gutter.
Hermann.
Without pillow.
Hoffmann.
The flags.
Nathanael.
Without curtains.
Hoffmann.
The sky.
Nathanael.
The rain.
Hermann.
Have you a nightmare, Hoffmann?
Hoffmann.
No, but to-night,
A while since, at the play...
All.
Well?
Hoffmann.
I thought to see again...
The deuce... why reopen old wounds?
Life is short. Enjoy it while we can.
We must drink, sing, laugh, as we may,
Left to weep to-morrow!
Nathanael.
Then sing the first without asking,
We’ll do chorus.
Hoffmann.
Agreed!
Nathanael.
Something gay.
Hermann.
The song of the Rat!
Nathanael.
No, for me, I’m tired of it.
What we want is the legend
Of Klein-Zach...
All.
’Tis the legand of Klein-Zach.
Hoffmann.
Here goes for Klein-Zach!...
Once at the court of Eysenach
A little dwarf called Klein-Zach,
Was covered o’er with a colbac,
And his legs they went clic, clac!
Clic, clac.
There’s Klein-Zach.
Chorus.
Crick, crack,
There’s Klein-Zach.
Hoffmann.
He had a hump in place of stomach,
His webbed feet seemed to burst a sack,
His nose was with tobacco black.
And his head it went crick crack,
Crick, crack.
There’s Klein-Zach.
Chorus.
Crick, crack,
There’s Klein-Zach.
Hoffmann.
As for the features on his face.
(He becomes absorbed.)
Chorus.
As for the features on his face.
Hoffmann (very slowly).
As for the features...
(He rises.)
Oh, her face was charming... I see it,
Fine as the day, running after her,
I, like a fool, left the house paternal,
And fled there’on to woods and vales
Her hair, in sombre rolls,
On her neck threw warm shades,
Her eyes of enveloping azure,
Cast about glances fresh and pure.
And as our car without shock or tremor
Carried our loves and hearts, her vibrant voice and sweet,
To the heav’ns that listened, threw the conq’ring cry,
And the eternal echo resounded in my heart.
Nathanael.
Oh strangest brain!
Who are you painting! Klein-Zach?
Hoffmann.
I speak of her...
Nathanael.
Who?
Hoffmann.
Nobody... nothing, my spirit is dullish.
Nothing. Klein-Zach is better, malformed as he is!
Chorus.
Flick, flack,
There’s Klein-Zach.
Hoffmann (throwing away his glass).
Peuh!... this beer is detestable,
Let’s light up the punch and drink;
And may the light-headed
Roll under the table.
Chorus.
And may the light headed
Roll under the table.
Chorus.
(The lights go out, Luther fires an immense punch bowl.)
Luther is a brave man,
Tire la laire,
Tire lan la.
’Tis to-morrow that we poison him,
Tire lan laire,
Tire lan la.
His cellar is a goodly spot,
Tire lan laire.
’Tis to-morrow we will make it hot,
Tire lan laire,
Tire lan la.
Nicklausse.
Very good, indeed. At least we are pruned
With reason and practical sense!
Away with languorous hearts.
Nathanael.
Let’s wager that Hoffmann’s in love.
Hoffmann.
What then?
Nathanael.
You need not blush, I imagine
Our friend Wilhelm who’s there,
Burns for Leonor and finds her divine.
Hermann loves Gretchen and I am near ruined
For the Fausta.
Hoffmann (to Wilhelm).
Yes, Leonor, thy virtuose.
(To Hermann.)
Yes, Gretchen, thy doll inert, of icy heart.
(to Nathanael.)
And thy Fausta, poor insensate,
The courtezan with front of brass.
Nathanael.