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• 1 2023-09-26T09:38:07+00:00 Mer han en neue Oberkeet BWV 212 / BC G 32 11 Comic cantata to honor Carl Heinrich von Dieskau the new Lord of his hereditary estate. First performed on Aug 30, 1742 in Klein-Zschocher. Text by CF Henrici (Picander). plain 2024-04-24T14:56:09+00:00 1742-08-30 BWV 212 Klein-Zschocher 51.43475264316692, 12.03829327644727 Comic cantata Homage BC G 32 Johann Sebastian Bach CF Henrici (Picander) Hans-Joachim Schulze, "Mer han en neue Oberkeet, BWV 212 / BC G 32" in Die Bach Kantaten: Einführungen zu sämtlichen Kantaten Johann Sebastian Bachs, (Leipzig: Evangelisches Verlagsanstalt 2007), p. 692 James A. Brokaw II Dieskau Carl Heinrich von Dieskau

  For Members of the Aristocracy, August 30, 1742

  The cantata Mer han en neue Oberkeet BWV 212 (We have a new squire), also known as the Peasant Cantata, owes its existence to an occasion of rather local significance. Carl Heinrich von Dieskau was a scion of an ancient aristocratic family whose ancestral seat was in Dieskau near Halle in Thuringia. He became directeur des plaisirs at the Dresden court and supervisor of Royal Chapel and Chamber Music. In early 1742 he inherited the manor Kleinzschocher, southwest of Leipzig, from his mother and then made plans for festivities to celebrate the traditional hereditary homage. In deference to decorum, he needed to find an occasion that would permit the suspension of the period of mourning prescribed after his mother’s death. The justification was provided by the noble gentleman’s birthday on August 30, 1742. Although chronicles of the era are silent about details of the celebration, it may have involved—as customary for such festivities—a procession, double ranks of maidens of honor, and, in the evening, a fine fireworks display. For daylight fireworks, the Leipzig cantor of St. Thomas, Johann Sebastian Bach, and his worthy librettist, Christian Friedrich Henrici, came to mind. Whether one or the other took the initiative or whether the two together were represented by someone else, we do not know. As the county tax collector, the poet Henrici/ Picander was immediately subordinate to the district captain Dieskau, so that he is most likely to have initiated the musical tribute. It can be safely assumed that such an investment paid off in due course.
  
  As well designed as it is complex, Picander’s libretto combines expressions of devotion with the depiction of life in the countryside in the spirit of the approaching Rococo age, induces knowing smiles from insiders of the tax system, and indulges in assorted tomfoolery in keeping with the principle that “im Gedicht duzt der Bauer den König” (in poetry the peasant addresses the king by first name). The beginning—and, unfortunately, only the beginning—is in dialect, as if intended to provide the Obersächsisches Wörterbuch der Akademie der Wissenschaften (Upper Saxon dictionary of the Academy of Sciences) with material:¹

  Mer hahn en neue Oberkeet 
  An unsern Kammerherrn.
  Ha gibt uns Bier, das steigt ins Heet,
  Das ist der klare Kern.
  Der Pfarr mag immer büse tun;
  Ihr Speelleut halt euch flink!
  Der Kittel wackelt Mieken schun, 
  Das klene luse Ding.
  
  We have a new squire 
  In our chamberlain.
  He gives us beer, which goes to one’s head, 
  That’s the heart of the matter.
  The pastor may well frown; 
  You musicians, look sharp! 
  Molly’s skirt is already swaying, 
  The little saucy thing.

  
  The situation is easily clarified with a few words of explanation: a new “Oberkeet” (Obrigkeit, “overseer” or “squire”); “Bier” (Freibier, “free beer”), “das steigt ins Heet” (“das in den Kopf steigt,” or “which goes to one’s head”); the anticipation of enjoying a dance; and a frowning clergyman. But before the host and his guests can make their way to the tavern, the Gray Wolf, the soprano and bass have a bit more to hash out with one another. The oafish bass approaches things head-on: “Nu, Mieke, gib dein Guschel immer her” (Now, Mieke, give us a smooch), but is immediately parried:

  Wenns das alleine wär.
  Ich kenn dich schon, du Bärenhäuter, 
  Du willst hernach nur immer weiter.
  Der neue Herr hat ein sehr scharf Gesicht.
  
  If that were only all.
  I know you well, you old bear skin, 
  After that you always want more. 
  The new boss has a very sharp face.

  
  The last line means that he has very sharp eyes and sees everything that he shouldn’t. The bass beats a retreat:

  Ach unser Herr schilt nicht;
  Er weiß so gut als wir, und auch wohl besser, 
  Wie schön ein bißchen Dahlen schmeckt.
  
  Ah, our master won’t scold us;
  He knows as well as we, probably better,
  How lovely a bit of cuddling tastes.

  
  Dahlen, vocabulary still used by Goethe, simply means “cuddling” or “billing and cooing”; it is conceivable that the good woman present (the new chamberlain’s wife) did not entirely appreciate this wisecrack. But Mieke, the farm girl, is in no mood to abandon the delicate subject:

  Ach es schmeckt doch gar zu gut, 
  Wenn ein Paar recht freundlich tut; 
  Ei, da braust es in dem Ranzen,
  Als wenn eitel Flöh und Wanzen 
  Und ein tolles Wespenheer 
  Miteinander zänkisch wär.
  
  Ah, it does feel awfully good 
  When a couple gets really friendly; 
  Oh, there’s roaring in your belly, 
  As if stirred-up fleas and bugs
  And a crazy swarm of wasps
  Were all quarreling with one another.

  
  With luck and skill, the bass hits on a new topic and begins to talk about the tax collector, who in this case also acts as law enforcement—policeman and judge in one, without such newfangled innovations as separation of powers:

  Der Herr ist gut: Allein der Schösser, 
  Das ist ein Schwefelsmann,
  Der wie ein Blitz ein neu Schock strafen kann, 
  Wenn man den Finger kaum ins kalte Wasser steckt.
  
  The master is good: but the tax collector, 
  There is a real devil
  Who can hit you with a big fine like lightning 
  When you’ve hardly stuck your finger in cold water.

  
  What’s meant here is clearly a case of unauthorized fishing in the nearby Elster River, along with a draconian fine in the amount of “a new shock,” which could easily be as much as sixty groschen or two and a half thalers. Today, the ensuing sorrow-filled aria could easily be entitled “Hochsteuerland” (High tax country):

  Ach Herr Schösser, geht nicht gar zu schlimm 
  Mit uns armen Bauersleuten üm.
  Schont nur unsrer Haut; 
  Freßt ihr gleich das Kraut
  Wie die Raupen bis zum kahlen Strunk,
  Habt nur genung!
  
  Ah, Mr. Tax Collector, don’t be so hard 
  On us poor farming folk.
  Just spare our hides;
  If you must gnaw through our cabbage 
  Like a caterpillar, down to the bare stem, 
  Let that be enough!

  
  Mieke immediately attempts to defuse the situation:

  Es bleibt dabei,
  Daß unser Herr der beste sei; 
  Er ist nicht besser abzumalen
  Und auch mit keinem Hopfensack voll Batzen zu bezahlen.
  
  The fact remains
  That our master is the greatest;
  No portrait could improve upon him,
  Nor could you pay for him with a gunnysack full of coins.

  
  The reference here is to ancient small coins called batzen with the likeness of a bear named Meister Petz.² A brief paean follows:

  Unser trefflicher 
  Lieber Kammerherr
  Ist ein kumpabler Mann, 
  Den niemand tadeln kann.
  
  Our excellent, 
  Beloved chamberlain 
  Is an affable man
  Whom no one can find fault with.

  
  Here, the rhymes sound a bit like Hans Sachs, and the peculiar word kumpabel—a mixture of Latin capabel (capable) and Kumpanei (comradery)—is occasionally found as late as the nineteenth century.
  
  After the praises of the chamberlain’s humanity have been sung, next on the agenda is his influence in public affairs, including the conscription of soldiers—here euphemistically called "Werbung" (recruitment)—and, of course, taxes:

  Er hilft uns allen, alt und jung, 
  Und dir ins Ohr gesprochen:
  Ist unser Dorf nicht gut genung
  Letzt bei der Werbung durchgekrochen?    
  Ich weiß wohl noch ein besser Spiel, 
  Der Herr gilt bei der Steuer viel.
  
  He helps us all, old and young, 
  And let me whisper in your ear:
  Didn’t our village squeak through OK 
  In the last recruitment?
  I know an even better game,
  The master has lots of clout with the taxes.

  
  Then as now, in tax matters speech is silver, but silence is gold:

  Das ist galant,
  Es spricht niemand
  Von den caducken Schocken 
  Niemand red’t ein stummes Wort, 
  Knauthain und Cospuden dort 
  Hat selber Werg am Rocken.
  
  It is a pretty thing, 
  That no one brags
  About those evaded taxes.
  No one breathes a silent word. 
  Knauthain and Cospuden there 
  Themselves have holes in their clothes.

  
  The manors of Knauthain and Cospuden belonged, like Kleinzschocher, to the Dieskau family estate, and the “caducken Schocken” refer to the taxation of wastelands, in other words, taxes that do not actually need to be paid.
  
  The bass now turns his attention to the “gnädige Frau” (mistress) and considers her with truly dubious praise:

  Und unsre gnäd’ge Frau 
  Ist nicht ein Prinkel stolz.
  Und ist gleich unsereins ein arm und grobes Holz,
  So redt sie doch mit uns daher,
  Als wenn sie unsersgleichen wär
  Sie ist recht fromm, recht wirtlich und genau, 
  Und machte unserm gnädgen Herrn
  Aus einer Fledermaus viel Taler gern.
  
  And our gracious mistress Is not a bit aloof.
  And like our kind is made of poor, crude wood,
  And therefore speaks with us
  As if she were just like ourselves.
  She’s truly fair, truly good-hearted and direct, 
  And for our gracious master she’d make
  Four thalers from a bat.³

  
  The financial wishful thinking of the “gracious ones” becomes clearer when we recall that “Fledermaus” (bat) was the slang term for a worn penny. Even so, the aria that follows has to do with the loss of fifty thalers, which has to be made up through redoubled penny-pinching.
  
  After so much depiction of milieu, some music is called for. In honor of the squire, the soprano lets a little song be heard:

  Klein-Zschocher müsse 
  So zart und süße
  Wie lauter Mandelkerne sein. 
  In unsere Gemeine
  Zieh’ heute ganz alleine
  Der Überfluß des Segens ein.
  
  Let Kleinzschocher be 
  As tender and sweet 
  As pure almonds.
  In our community
  Let nothing come today except
  A surplus of blessings.

  
  The bass serves up a contrasting program:

  Das ist zu klug vor dich
  Und nach der Städter Weise; 
  Wir Bauern singen nicht so leise.
  Das Stückchen, höre nur, das schicket sich vor mich:
  Es nehme zehntausend Dukaten 
  Der Kammerherr alle Tag ein.
  Er trink ein gutes Gläschen Wein 
  Und laß es ihm bekommen sein.
  
  That is too smart for you
  And in the manner of the city;
  We peasants don’t sing so soft.
  Now listen to this one that’s just right for me!
  Ten thousand ducats every day
  May the chamberlain take in.
  May he drink a glass of good wine,
  And may he find it good.

  
  Molly doesn’t think it’s all that good:

  Das klingt zu liederlich.
  Es sind so hübsche Leute da, 
  Die würden ja
  Von Herzen drüber lachen; 
  Nicht anders, als wenn ich, 
  Die alte Weise wollte machen:
  Gib, Schöne, 
  Viel Söhne
  Von artger Gestalt, 
  Und zieh sie fein alt,
  Das wünschet sich Zschocher und Knauthain fein bald.
  
  That sounds too dissolute! 
  There are such fancy people here
  Who would certainly
  Laugh heartily over it;
  No different than if I
  Wanted to offer this old tune:
  Give us, pretty one, 
  Many sons
  Of stalwart form
  And bring them up well,
  That’s what Zschocher and Knauthain want, very soon.

  
  Whatever is so “liederlich” about the “Dukaten” aria—that is, licentious and self-indulgent—cannot be inferred from the text, nor can the reason for the laughter of the “hübschen” people—that is, polite and well-educated. The chamberlain and his gracious wife will have heard the wish for “many sons” with rather uncomfortable expressions; so far, they have had five daughters—but not the longed-for son and heir.
  
  Be that as it may, the bass gives in:

  Du hast wohl recht.
  Das Stückchen klingt zu schlecht; 
  Ich muß mich also zwingen,
  Was städtisches zu singen. 
  Dein Wachstum sei feste 
  Und lache vor Lust.
  Deines Herzens Trefflichkeit
  Hat dir selbst das Feld bereit’,
  Auf dem du blühen mußt.
  
  You’re quite right.
  The little piece sounds too bad. 
  I must then force myself
  To sing something more urbane. 
  May your increase be steady, 
  And laugh with delight.
  The excellence of your heart
  Has itself prepared the field for you 
  On which you must certainly blossom.

  
  After more to-and-fro the party is finally ready to move in the direction of the Gray Wolf:

  Wir gehn nun, wo der Tudelsack 
  In unsrer Schenke brummt.
  Und rufen dabei fröhlich aus:
  Es lebe Dieskau und sein Haus, 
  Ihm sei beschert,
  Was er begehrt
  Und was er sich selbst wünschen mag.
  
  We’re going now where the bagpipes 
  In our tavern drone.
  As we call joyfully out:
  Long live Dieskau and his house, 
  May he be granted
  All that he desires
  And whatever else he might wish for.

  
  Bach’s composition, which he himself entitled “Cantate burlesque,” shows evidence at many points of close collaboration between composer and poet in preparing the libretto. This is particularly true of the two “urban” arias. Only the soprano’s paean to Kleinzschocher is undisguised; its model was an aria from a congratulatory cantata for August the Strong performed in 1732.41 There, the personified Landes-Vorsehung (National Destiny) begins:

  Ich will ihn hegen, 
  Ich will ihn pflegen
  Und seiner Seele freundlich tun.
  
  I want to cherish him, 
  I want to care for him
  And be kind to his soul.

  
  In contrast, the bass aria operates with a double-edged sword: the “Dein Wachstum sei feste” (May your prosperity be secure) goes back to the dramma per musica Der Streit zwischen Phoebus und Pan BWV 201, where it is connected to the text “Zu Tanze, zu Sprünge, so wackelt das Herz” (For dancing, for leaping, so wobbles the heart). Steadiness here, violent wobbling there: the music intentionally and successfully undermines what the text says. The same thing happens, whenever possible, in the two shorter aria movements. The song of praise to the excellent, companionable, fault-free chamberlain is set to the ancient melody of the “Folie d’Espagne” (Follies of Spain), which otherwise appears with texts such as “Du strenge Flavia, / Ist kein Erbarmen da” (You strict Flavia, / Have you no mercy) or else, particularly in operas of the period, to accompany the entrance of a fool. The “Ducats” aria cites a contemporary hunting song, accompanied by a hunting horn for the sake of authenticity; in the meantime, the heart of the matter is a popular song text “Was helfen uns tausend Dukaten, / Wenn sie versoffen sind” (What good to us are one thousand ducats / When they are drunk?). It’s no wonder that the soprano finds this licentious and self-indulgent and fears that nice people will have an unfavorable impression. The “alte Weise” (old ditty) with “viel Söhne” (many sons) may be based on a lullaby that possibly once enjoyed a crude second text. In the first recitative, a so-called Großvatertanz (grandfather dance) or Kehraus (last dance of the evening) is heard at appropriate spots, usually sung to the words “Mit mir und dir ins Federbett, / Mit mir und dir ins Stroh” (With me and you in the feather bed, / With me and you in the straw).
  
  From the colorful overture to the tuneful ensemble finale, most movements give the impression of having been conceived and composed with double entendres in mind⁴—and must also have been heard as such. Unfortunately, many movements have not yet given up their secrets, and so the pleasure of listening to the only apparently ephemeral Peasant Cantata is mixed with perplexity—just as is Mozart’s “Musical Joke.”

  ---

  Footnotes

  1. The same company published the Wörterbuch der obersächischen Mundarten (Dictionary of Upper Saxon dialects).—Trans.↵
  2. Meister Petz is the name of a bear in a fable in which various animals have human names: Isegrim the wolf, Lamprecht the hare, Adebar the stork.—Trans.↵
  3. In other words, the coins would be well-worn.—Trans.↵
  4. Schulze (1976). Other clues to “borrowed material” appear in Boyd (1993). Dieskau’s advancement at the Dresden court may have prompted the librettist to entitle his 1751 republication of the text “Auf eine Huldigung. Cantata burlesque,” thus defusing the obvious textual and musical allusions to those in power.↵