In Goethe’s Faust, Gretchen sits alone at her spinning wheel, unable to stop thinking about Faust. Her thoughts circle obsessively around his absence, then intensify into physical longing. In this episode, I explore an extraordinary and virtually unknown setting of “Meine Ruh' ist hin” by Marie Franz (1828–1891).

The episode features soprano Rebecca Nelsen and pianist Chanda VanderHart in a world-premiere recording I commissioned from an unpublished manuscript by Franz, preserved at the Händel-Haus in Halle, Germany.

For more on Marie Franz's songs, see the page I created about her on my website Art Song Augmented, as well as an essay I wrote for the Women's Song Forum.

Meine Ruh' ist hin

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Meine Ruh’ ist hin,
Mein Herz ist schwer,
Ich finde sie nimmer
Und nimmermehr.

Wo ich ihn nicht hab’
Ist mir das Grab,
Die ganze Welt
Ist mir vergällt.

Mein armer Kopf
Ist mir verrückt
Mein armer Sinn
Ist mir zerstückt.

Meine Ruh’ ist hin,
Mein Herz ist schwer,
Ich finde sie nimmer
Und nimmermehr.

Nach ihm nur schau’ ich
Zum Fenster hinaus,
Nach ihm nur geh’ ich
Aus dem Haus.

Sein hoher Gang,
Sein’ edle Gestalt,
Seines Mundes Lächeln,
Seiner Augen Gewalt.

Und seiner Rede
Zauberfluss.
Sein Händedruck,
Und ach, sein Kuss!

Meine Ruh’ ist hin,
Mein Herz ist schwer,
Ich finde sie nimmer
Und nimmermehr.

Mein Busen drängt sich
Nach ihm hin.
Ach dürft’ ich fassen
Und halten ihn.

Und küssen ihn
So wie ich wollt’
An seinen Küssen
Vergehen sollt’!

My Peace is Gone

My peace is gone
My heart is heavy;
I shall never
Ever find peace again.

When he’s not with me,
Life’s like the grave;
The whole world
Is turned to gall.

My poor head
Is crazed,
My poor mind
Shattered.

My peace is gone
My heart is heavy;
I shall never
Ever find peace again.

It’s only for him
I gaze from the window,
It’s only for him
I leave the house.

His proud bearing
His noble form,
The smile on his lips,
The power of his eyes,

And the magic flow
Of his words,
The touch of his hand,
And ah, his kiss!

My peace is gone
My heart is heavy;
I shall never
Ever find peace again.

My bosom
Yearns for him.
Ah! if I could clasp
And hold him,

And kiss him
To my heart’s content,
And in his kisses
Perish!

English translation by Richard Stokes, from The Book of Lieder (Faber, 2005)

In Friedrich Rückert’s “Die gute Nacht, die ich dir sage,” two people separated at night exchange greetings through an angel who travels between them. In this episode, I explore Clara Schumann’s 1841 setting of the poem and the ways her music gives shape to its strange sense of distance, suspended time, and listening. I also consider a special arrangement for two singers, in which the song itself seems to pass from one voice to another before the two finally come together for the words jetzt gute Nacht—“now good night.”

The episode features a live performance of the song at the Oxford International Song Festival by Sophie Karthäuser, Stephan Loges, and Eugene Asti.

Die gute Nacht, die ich dir sage

Friedrich Rückert

Die gute Nacht, die ich dir sage,

Freund, hörest du;

Ein Engel, der die Botschaft trage

Geht ab und zu.

Er bringt sie dir, und hat mir wieder

Den Gruß gebracht:

Dir sagen auch des Freundes Lieder

Jetzt gute Nacht.

The Good Night That I Bid You

Friend, you hear

The good night that I bid you;

An angel, bearing the message

Goes to and fro.

He brings my message to you and has returned

The greeting to me:

The friend’s songs

Now say good night to you, too.

Constance Morgan’s “Evensong” is a quiet nighttime poem in which a speaker asks the angels to fold their wings around her and “hush me to sleep.” But sleep in the poem carries a darker meaning. In this episode, I explore Liza Lehmann’s 1916 setting of the poem and the ways her music deepens that ambiguity.

The episode features mezzo-soprano Catherine Wyn-Rogers and pianist Steuart Bedford, Lehmann’s grandson, from an album of Lehmann songs released by Naxos Records.

For more information about Lehmann and her song, see my conversation with Christopher Reynolds, "Exploring Lehmann's 'Evensong,'" published in the Women's Song Forum.

Evensong

Constance Morgan

Fold your white wings, dear Angels,
Fold your white wings;
Dew falls and the nightingale softly now sings.

Across the lawn lie shadows,
So still, so deep,
Dear loving Angels, pass not by,
Hush me to sleep.

Night falls, and whisp’ring goes the wind
Along the sea;
Fold your white wings, dear Angels,
Fold them, dear Angels,
Fold them round me.