Act I At Home
Scene I
(Small, poorly furnished room. In the background a door, a small window near it with a view into the forest. On the left a fireplace, with chimney above it. On the walls many brooms of various sizes. Hänsel sits near the door, making brooms, and Gretel opposite him by the fireplace, knitting a stocking.)
Gretel.
Susy, little Susy, pray what is the news?
The geese are running barefoot, because they’ve no shoes!
The cobbler has leather, and plenty to spare, why can’t he make the poor goose a new pair?
Hänsel.
Then they’ll have to go barefoot!
Eia-popeia, pray what’s to be done?
Who’ll give me milk and sugar, for bread I have none?
I’ll go back to bed and I’ll lie there all day; where there’s nought to eat, then there’s nothing to pay!
Gretel.
Then we’ll have to go hungry!
Hänsel.
If mother would only come home again!
Yes, I am so hungry,
I don’t know what to do!
For weeks I’ve eaten nought but bread—
It’s very hard, it is indeed!
Gretel.
Hush, Hänsel, don’t forget what father said, when mother, too, wished she were dead:
“When past bearing is our grief,
Then ’tis Heaven will send relief!”
Hänsel.
Yes, yes, that sounds all very fine, but you know off maxims we cannot dine!
O Gret, it would be such a treat if we had something nice to eat!
Eggs and butter and suet paste,
I’ve almost forgotten how they taste.
(Nearly crying.)
O Gretel, I wish—
Gretel.
Hush, don’t give way to grumps; have patience awhile, no doleful dumps!
This woful face, whew! what a sight!
Looks like a horrid old crosspatch fright!
Crosspatch, away!
Leave me, I pray!
Just let me reach you,
quickly I’ll teach you
how to make trouble,
soon mount to double!
Crosspatch, crosspatch,
what is the use,
growling and grumbling,
full of abuse?
Off with you, out with you,
shame on you, goose!
Hänsel.
Crosspatch, away!
Hard lines, I say.
Hänsel.
When I am hungry, surely I can say so, cannot allay so, can’t chase away so!
Gretel.
If I am hungry,
I’ll never say so, will not give way so, chase it away so!
Gretel.
That’s right. Now, if you leave off complaining,
I’ll tell you a most delightful secret!
Hänsel.
O delightful! it must be something nice!
Gretel.
Well, listen, brotherkin—won’t you be glad!
Look here in the jug, here is fresh milk,
’twas given to-day by our neighbour, and mother, when she comes back home, will certainly make us a rice-blancmange.
Hänsel (joyfully dances round the room).
Rice-blancmange!
When blancmange is anywhere near, then Hänsel, Hänsel, Hänsel, is there!
How thick is the cream on the milk; let’s taste it! O Gemini!
wouldn’t I like to drink it!
(Tasting it.)
Gretel.
What, Hänsel, tasting? Aren’t you ashamed?
Out with your fingers quick, greedy boy!
(Gives him a rap on the fingers.)
Get back to your work again, be quick, that we may both have done in time!
If mother comes and we haven’t done right, then badly it will fare with us to-night!
Hänsel.
Work again? No, not for me!
That’s not my idea at all; it doesn’t suit me! It’s such a bore!
Dancing is jollier far, I’m sure!
Gretel (delighted).
Dancing, dancing! O yes, that’s better far; and sing a song to keep us in time!
One that our grandmother used to sing us:
sing then, and dance in time to the singing!
(Claps her hands.)
Brother, come and dance with me, both my hands I offer thee; right foot first, left foot then, round about and back again!
Hänsel (tries to do it, but awkwardly).
I would dance, but don’t know how, when to jump, and when to bow; show me what I ought to do, so that I may dance like you.
Gretel.
With your foot you tap, tap, tap; with your hands you clap, clap, clap; right foot first, left foot then, round about and back again!
Hänsel.
With your hands you clap, clap, clap; with your foot you tap, tap, tap; right foot first, left foot then, round about and back again!
Gretel.
That was very good indeed,
O, I’m sure you’ll soon succeed!
Try again, and I can see
Hänsel soon will dance like me!
(Claps her hands.)
With your head you nick, nick, nick; with your fingers you click, click, click; right foot first, left foot then, round about and back again.
Hänsel.
With your head you nick, nick, nick; with your fingers you click, click, click; right foot first, left foot then, round about and back again!
Gretel.
Brother, watch what next I do, you must do it with me too.
You to me your arm must proffer,
I shall not refuse your offer!
Come!
Both.
What I enjoy is dance and jollity, love to have my fling; in fact, I like frivolity, and all that kind of thing.
Gretel.
Tralala, tralala, tralala!
Come and have a twirl, my dearest Hänsel, come and have a turn with me, I pray; come here to me, come here to me,
I’m sure you can’t say nay!
Hänsel (gruffly).
Go away from me, go away from me,
I’m much too proud for you:
with little girls I do not dance, and so, my dear, adieu!
Gretel.
Go, stupid Hans, conceited Hans, you’ll see I’ll make you dance!
Tralala, tralala, tralala!
Come and have a twirl, my dearest Hänsel, come and have a turn with me, I pray!
Hänsel.
O Gretel dear, O sister dear, your stocking has a hole!
Gretel.
O Hänsel dear, O brother dear, d’you take me for a fool?
With naughty boys I do not dance, and so, my dear, adieu!
Hänsel.
Now don’t be cross, you silly goose, you’ll see I make you dance!
Gretel.
Tralala, tralala, tralala!
Come and have a twirl, my dearest Hänsel, come and have a turn with me, I pray.
Sing lustily hurrah! hurrah!
while I dance with you; and if the stockings are in holes, why, mother’ll knit some new!
Hänsel.
Tralala, tralala, tralala!
Sing lustily hurrah! hurrah!
while I dance with you; and if the shoes are all in holes, why mother’ll buy some new!
Tralala, tralala, tralala!
(They dance round each other as before. They then seize each other’s hands and go round in a circle, quicker and quicker, until at length they lose their balance and tumble over one another on the floor.)
Zweite Scene
Mutter (mit einer Kiepe auf dem Rücken).
Holla!
Hänsel und Gretel (erschreckt aufspringend).
Himmel, die Mutter!
(Verlegenheit.)
Mutter.
Was ist das für eine Geschichte?
Gretel.
Der Hänsel....
Hänsel.
Die Gretel....
Gretel.
Er wollte....
Hänsel.
Ich sollte....
Mutter (in Zorn ausbrechend).
Wartet, ihr ungezogenen Wichte!
(Setzt ihre Kiepe nieder.)
Nennt ihr das Arbeit? Johlen und singen?
Wie auf der Kirmes tanzen und springen?
Indes die Eltern vom frühen Morgen bis spät in die Nacht sich mühen und sorgen?
Dass dich! (Giebt Hänseln einen Puff.)
Lasst seh’n, was habt ihr beschickt?
—Wie, Gretel, den Strumpf nicht fertig gestrickt?
—Und du?—Du, Schlingel! In all den Stunden nicht mal die wenigen Besen gebunden?
Ihr unnützigen Rangen! Den Stock will ich holen, den Faulpelz werd’ ich euch beiden versohlen!
(In ihrem Eifer hinter den Kindern her stösst sie den Milchtopf vom Tisch, dass er klirrend zu Boden fällt.)
Jesses! Nun auch den Topf noch zerbrochen!
(Weinend.)
Was soll ich nun zum Abend kochen?
(Besieht ihren mit Milch begossenen Rock; Hänsel kichert verstohlen.)
Was, Bengel, du lachst mich noch aus?
(Mit dem Stock hinter Hans her, der zur offenen Thür hinausrennt.)
Wart, kommt nur der Vater nach Haus—
(Reisst einen kleinen Korb von der Wand und drängt ihn Gretel in die Hand.)
Marsch, fort—in den Wald!
Dort sucht mir Erdbeeren!—Nun, wird es bald?
(Treibt auch Gretel zur Stube hinaus und droht mit dem Stocke den sich furchtsam umschauenden Kindern.)
Und bringt ihr den Korb nicht voll bis zum Rand, so hau ich euch, dass ihr fliegt an die Wand!
(Setzt sich erschöpft an den Tisch.)
Da liegt nun der gute Topf in Scherben!
Ja, blinder Eifer bringt immer Verderben.—
Herrgott, wirf Geld herab! Nichts hab’ ich zu leben, kein Krümchen den Würmern zu essen zu geben; kein Tröpfchen im Topfe, kein Krüstchen im Schrank, schon lange nichts als Wasser zum Trank.
(Stützt den Kopf mit der Hand.)
Müde bin ich—müde zum Sterben—
Herrgott, wirf Geld herab— —
(Legt den Kopf auf den Arm und schläft ein.)
Scene II
(At this moment the door opens, the mother appears, whereupon the children jump up quickly.)
Mother.
Hallo!
Hänsel and Gretel.
Heavens! Here’s mother!
Mother.
What is all this disturbance?
Gretel.
’Twas Hänsel, he wanted—
Hänsel.
’Twas Gretel, she said I—
Mother.
Silence, idle and ill-behaved children!
(The mother comes in, unstraps the basket, and puts it down.)
Call you it working, yodelling and singing?
As though ’twere fair time, hopping and springing!
And while your parents from early morning till late at night are slaving and toiling!
Take that!
(Gives Hänsel a box on the ear.)
Now come, let’s see what you’ve done.
Why, Gretel, your stocking not ready yet?
And you, you lazybones, have you nothing to show?
Pray how many besoms have you finished?
I’ll fetch my stick, you useless children, and make your idle fingers tingle!
(In her indignation at the children she gives the milk-jug a push, so that it falls off the table with a smash.)
Gracious! there goes the jug all to pieces!
What now can I cook for supper?
(She looks at her dress, down which the milk is streaming. Hänsel covertly titters.)
How, saucy, how dare you laugh?
(Goes with a stick after Hänsel, who runs out at the open door.)
Wait, wait till the father comes home!
(With sudden energy she snatches a basket from the wall, and pokes it into Gretel’s hands.)
Off, off, to the wood!
There seek for strawberries! Quick, away!
And if you don’t bring the basket brimful,
I’ll whip you so that you’ll both run away!
(The children run off into the wood. She sits down exhausted by the table.)
Alas! there my poor jug lies all in pieces!
Yes, blind excitement only brings ruin.
O Heaven, send help to me!
Nought have I to give them—
(Sobbing.)
No bread, not a crumb, for my starving children!
No crust in the cupboard, no milk in the pot—
(Resting her head on her hands.)
Weary am I, weary of living!
Father, send help to me!
(Lays her head down on her arm and drops to sleep.)
Dritte Scene
(Man hört eine Stimme von draussen:)
Ach, wir armen, armen Leute!
Alle Tage so wie heute:
In dem Beutel ein grosses Loch und im Magen ein gröss’res noch—
Rallalala, rallalala,
Hunger ist der beste Koch!
(Am Fenster wird der Kopf des Vaters sichtbar, der während des Folgenden in angeheitertem Zustande mit einem Kober auf dem Rücken in die Stube tritt.)
Ja, ihr Reichen könnt euch laben!
Wir, die nichts zu essen haben, nagen, ach, die ganze Woch’, sieben Tag an einem Knoch’!
Rallalala, rallalala,
Hunger ist der beste Koch!
Ach, wir sind ja gern zufrieden, denn das Glück ist so verschieden, aber, aber wahr ist’s doch:
Armut ist ein schweres Joch!
Rallalala, rallalala,
Hunger ist der beste Koch!
(Er setzt seinen Kober nieder und tritt an die Rampe.)
Ja ja, der Hunger kocht schon gut, sofern er kommandieren thut.
Allein was nutzt der Kommandör, fehlt euch im Topf die Zubehör?
Rallalala, rallalala,
Kümmel ist mein Leiblikör!
Rallalala, rallalala,
Mutter, schau, was ich bescheer!
(Giebt ihr einen derben Schmatz.)
Mutter (sich die Augen reibend).
Hoho!—
Wer spek—spektakelt
mir da im Haus
und rallalakelt
aus dem Schlaf mich heraus?
Vater (lallend).
Das tolle Tier,
im Magen hier,
das bellte so, das glaube mir!
Rallalala, rallalala,
Hunger ist ein tolles Tier.
Rallalala, rallalala,
beisst und kratzt, das glaube mir!
Mutter.
So, so!
Das tolle Tier,
es ist wohl schier
stark angezecht—das glaube mir!
Vater.
Nun ja, ’s war heut ein heitrer Tag!
Fandst du nicht auch, lieb’ Weib?
Mutter (ärgerlich).
Ach geh! Du weisst, nicht leiden mag ich Wirtshaus-Zeitvertreib!
Vater (zu seinem Kober sich wendend).
Auch gut! So sehen wir, wenn’s beliebt, was es für heut zu schmausen giebt.
Mutter.
Höchst einfach ist das Speisregister der Abendschmaus—zum Henker ist er!
Teller leer,
Keller leer,
und im Beutel ist gar nichts mehr.
Vater.
Rallalala, rallalala,
lustig, Mutter, bin auch noch da!
Rallalala, rallalala,
bringe Glück und Gloria!
(Nimmt den Kober und kramt aus.)
Schau, Mutter!
Wie gefällt Dir dies Futter?
Mutter.
Mann, was seh’ ich? Speck und Butter!
Mehl und Würste!... vierzehn Eier—
—Mann! Sie sind jetztunder teuer!—
Bohnen, Zwiebeln und—herrjeh!
Gar ein viertel Pfund Kaffee!
Vater (kehrt den Kober vollends um. Ein Haufen Kartoffeln rollt zur Erde. Beide fassen sich am Arm und tanzen in der Stube umher).
Rallalala, hopsassa!
Heute woll’n wir lustig sein!
Ja, hör nur, Mütterchen, wie’s geschah!
(Die Mutter kramt die Sachen in den Schrank ein, macht Feuer im Herd an, schlägt Eier in eine Schüssel u. s. w.)
Drüben hinterm Herrenwald prächt’ge Feste giebt’s da bald,
Kirmes, Hochzeit, Jubiläum,
Böllerknall und gross Tedeum.
Mein Geschäft kommt nun zur Blüte; dessen froh sei Dein Gemüte!
Sieh! wer feines Fest will feiern, der muss kehren, schrubben und scheuern.
Bot drum meine Waren aus, zog damit von Haus zu Haus:
„Kauft Besen! Gute Feger!
Feine Bürsten! Spinnejäger!“
Sieh, da verkauft’ ich massenweise meine Waren zum höchsten Preise!—
Schnell nun her mit Topf und Pfanne, her mit Kessel, Schüssel, Kanne!
Beide.
Vivat hoch die Besenbinder!
Vater.
Doch halt—wo bleiben die Kinder?
Hänsel! Gretel!—Wo steckt der Hans?
Wo er steckt? Ja, wüsste man’s!
Nur das weiss ich klar wie Tag, dass der Topf in Scherben lag!
Vater (zornig).
Was? der neue Topf entzwei?
Mutter.
Und am Boden quoll der Brei!
Vater (mit der Faust auf den Tisch schlagend).
Donnerkeil! So haben die Rangen
Unfug wieder angefangen?
Mutter.
Unfug viel und Arbeit keine hatten sie getrieben alleine.
Hörte schon draussen sie juchzen und johlen, hopsen und springen wie wilde Fohlen, wusste nicht, wie mir stand der Kopf,
Und vor Zorn
Vater.
—zerbrach der Topf.
Hahahaha!
(Beide lachen aus vollem Halse.)
Na, Zornmütterchen, nimm mir’s nicht krumm, solche Zorntöpfe find’ ich recht dumm!
Doch sag, wo mögen die Kinderchen sein?
Mutter (schnippisch).
Meinethalben am Ilsenstein!
Vater (erschrocken).
Am Ilsenstein?—Ei, juckt Dich das Fell?
(Nimmt einen Besen von der Wand.)
Mutter.
Den Besen lass nur an seiner Stell.
Vater (lässt den Besen fallen und ringt die Hände.)
Wenn sie sich verirrten im Walde dort, in der Nacht, ohne Stern und Mond!
Kennst Du nicht den schauerlich düstern Ort?
Weisst nicht, dass die Böse dort wohnt?
Mutter (betroffen).
Die Böse? Wen meinst Du?
Vater (mit geheimnisvollem Nachdruck).
Die Knusperhexe!—
Mutter (fährt zusammen).
Die Knusperhexe!—
(Zurückweichend, da der Vater den Besen wieder aufnimmt.)
Mein! Sag doch, was soll denn der Besen?
Vater.
Der Besen! Der Besen!
Was macht man damit? Was macht man damit?
Es reiten drauf, es reiten drauf die Hexen!
Eine Hex’ steinalt, haust tief im Wald, vom Teufel selber hat sie Gewalt!
Um Mitternacht,
wann niemand wacht, dann reitet sie aus zur Hexenjagd.
Zum Schornstein hinaus entschlüpft sie dem Haus; auf dem Besen, o Graus; in Saus und Braus!
Über Berg und Kluft,
über Thal und Gruft durch Nebelduft im Sturm durch die Luft:
Ja so reiten, ja so reiten, juchheissa, die Hexen!
Mutter.
Entsetzlich!
Vater.
Ja, bei Tag, o Graus:
zum Hexenschmaus
ins Knisper-Knasper-Knusperhaus
die Kinderlein,
Armsünderlein,
mit Zauberkuchen lockt sie herein.
Doch übelgesinnt
ergreift sie geschwind das arme Kuchen knuspernde Kind.
In den Ofen, hitzhell, schiebt’s die Hexe blitzschnell; dann kommen zur Stell, gebräunt das Fell, aus dem Ofen, aus dem Ofen die Lebkuchenkinder!
Mutter.
Und die Lebkuchenkinder?
Vater.
Die werden gefressen!
Mutter.
Von der Hexe?
Vater.
Von der Hexe.
Mutter (händeringend).
O Graus!
Hilf, Himmel! die Kinder! Ich halt’s nicht mehr aus!
(Rennt aus dem Hause.)
Vater (nimmt die Kümmelflasche vom Tisch).
He, Alte, so wart’ doch! Nimm mich mit!
Wir wollen ja beide zum Hexenritt!
(Eilt ihr nach. Der Vorhang fällt schnell.)
Scene III
(A voice is heard in the distance.)
Tralala, tralala! little mother, here am I!
Tralala, tralala! bringing luck and jollity!
(Rather nearer.)
O, for you and me, poor mother, every day is like the other; with a big hole in the purse, and in the stomach an even worse.
Tralala, tralala!
Hunger is the poor man’s curse!
Tralala, tralala!
Hunger is the poor man’s curse!
(The father appears at the window, and during the following he comes into the room in a very happy mood, with a basket on his back.)
’Tisn’t much that we require, just a little food and fire!
But alas! it’s true enough, life on some of us is rough!
Hunger is a customer tough! (or)
Yes, the rich enjoys his dinner, while the poor grows daily thinner!
Strives to eat, as well he may, somewhat less than yesterday!
(Complainingly.)
Tralala, tralala!
hunger is the devil to pay!
Tralala, tralala!
hunger is the devil to pay!
(He puts down his basket.)
Yes, hunger’s all very well to feel, if you can get a good square meal; but when there’s nought, what can you do, supposing the purse be empty too?
Tralalala, tralalala!
O for a drop of mountain dew!
Tralalala, tralalala!
Mother, look what I have brought!
(Reels over to his sleeping wife and gives her a smacking kiss.)
Mother (rubbing her eyes).
Oho!—
Who’s sing-sing-singing
all around the house, and tra-la-la-ing me out of my sleep?
Father (inarticulately).
How now!—
The hungry beast
within my breast
called so for food
I could not rest!
Tralala, tralala!
Hunger is an urgent beast!
Tralala, tralala!
pinches, gnaws, and gives no rest!
Mother.
So, so!
And this wild beast,
you gave him a feast.
He’s had his fill,
to say the least!
Father.
Well, yes! H’m! it was a lovely day, don’t you think so, dear wife?
(Wants to kiss her.)
Mother (pushing him angrily away, excitedly).
Have done! You have no troubles to bear,
’tis I must keep the house!
Father.
Well, well,—then let us see, my dear, what we have got to eat to-day.
Mother.
Most simple is the bill of fare, our supper’s gone, I know not where!
Larder bare, cellar bare, nothing, and plenty of it to spare!
Father.
Tralalala, tralalala!
Cheer up, mother, for here am I, bringing luck and jollity!
(He takes his basket and begins to display he contents.)
Look, mother, doesn’t all this food please you?
Mother.
Man, man, what see I?
Ham and butter, flour and sausage—
eggs, a dozen....
(Husband, and they cost a fortune!)
Turnips, onions, and—for me!
Nearly half a pound of tea!
Both.
Tralala, tralala,
hip hurrah!
Won’t we have a festive time!
Tralala, hip hurrah!
Won’t we have a happy time!
Now listen how it all came about!
Father (turns the basket topsy-turvy, and a lot of potatoes roll out. He seizes her by the arm and dances round the room. Sits down. Meanwhile the mother packs away the things, lights a fire, breaks eggs into a saucepan, etc.).
Yonder to the town I went, there was to be a great event, weddings, fairs, and preparation for all kinds of jubilation!
Now’s my chance to do some selling, and for that you may be thankful!
He who wants a feast to keep, he must scrub and brush and sweep.
So I brought my best goods out, tramped with them from house to house:
“Buy besoms! good besoms!
Buy my brushes! sweep your carpets, sweep your cobwebs!”
And so I drove a roaring trade, and sold my brushes at the highest prices!
Now make haste with cup and platter, bring the glasses, bring the kettle—
here’s a health to the besom-maker!
Mother.
Here’s a health to the besom-maker!
Father.
But stay, why, where are the children?
Hänsel, Gretel, what’s gone with Hans?
Mother.
Gone with Hans? O, who’s to know?
But at least I do know this, that the jug is smashed to bits.
Father.
What! the jug is smashed to bits?
Mother.
And the cream all run away.
Father (striking his fist on the table in a rage).
Hang it all! So those little scapegraces have been again in mischief!
Mother (hastily).
Been in mischief? I should think so!
Nought have they done but their mad pranking; as I came home I could hear them hopping and cutting the wildest capers, till I was so cross that I gave a push—
and the jug of milk was spilt!
Father.
And the jug of milk was spilt!
Ha ha ha ha!
(Both laughing.)
Such anger, mother, don’t take it ill, seems stupid to me, I must say!
But where, where think you the children can be?
Mother (snappishly and curtly).
For aught I know, at the Ilsenstein!
Father (horror-struck).
The Ilsenstein! Come, come, have a care!
(Fetches a broom from the wall.)
Mother.
The besom, just put it away again!
Father. (lets the broom fall and wrings his hands).
My children astray in the gloomy wood, all alone without moon or stars!
Mother.
O Heaven!
Father.
Dost thou not know the awful magic place, the place where the evil one dwells?
Mother (surprised).
The evil one! What mean’st thou?
Father (with mysterious emphasis).
The gobbling ogress!
(The mother draws back, the father takes up the broom again.)
Mother.
The gobbling ogress!
But—tell me, what help is the besom!
Father.
The besom, the besom, why what is it for?
They ride on it, they ride on it, the witches!
An old witch within that wood doth dwell and she’s in league with the powers of hell.
At midnight hour, when nobody knows, away to the witches’ dance she goes.
Up the chimney they fly, on a broomstick they hie—
over hill and dale, o’er ravine and vale, through the midnight air they gallop full tear—
on a broomstick, on a broomstick, hop hop, hop hop, the witches!
Mother.
O horror!
But the gobbling witch?
Father.
And by day, they say, she stalks around, with a crinching, crunching, munching sound, and children plump and tender to eat she lures with magic gingerbread sweet.
On evil bent, with fell intent, she lures the children, poor little things, in the oven red-hot she pops all the lot; she shuts the lid down until they’re done brown, in the oven, in the oven,
(Expressively.)
the gingerbread children!
Mother.
And the gingerbread children?
Father.
Are served up for dinner!
Mother.
For the ogress?
Father.
For the ogress!
Mother.
O horror!
Heav’n help us! the children!
O what shall we do?
(Runs out of the house.)
Father.
Hi, mother, mother, wait for me!
(Takes the whisky bottle from the table and follows her.)
We’ll both go together the witch to seek!
(The curtain falls quickly.)