Chapter 5

(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.

Morose spirit, Many thanks for Fausta, Gretchen and Leonore!...

HOFFMANN.

Pish. They are all alike.

NATHANAEL.

Then your mistress is such a treasure That you despise so much our own?

HOFFMANN.

My mistress, no, no, say rather three Charming trio of enchantresses. Who are dividing my days. Would you like the story of my crazy loves?...

CHORUS.

Yes, yes!

NICKLAUSSE.

What are you saying of three mistresses?

HOFFMANN.

Smoke!... Before this dead pipe is relighted You will have comprehended, You who in this play where my heart was consumed In good sense took the first prize!

(All the students go to their places.)

CHORUS.

Listen. It is nice to drink, To the telling of a crazy tale, While following the fragrant cloud, That a pipe throws in the air.

HOFFMANN (sitting on corner of table).

I begin.

CHORUS.

Silence.

HOFFMANN.

The name of the first was Olympia...

(The curtain falls as Hoffmann is speaking.)