Ammenlied, D 122

Nurse's song

(Poet's title: Ammenlied)

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This lullaby is also a work song. The poor woman who has to deal with this girl is almost certainly not her mother (even though she calls the baby ‘mein Töchterlein’); the title suggests that she is some sort of wet nurse. It is one of those times during the night when she has been woken up again; we begin with a storm.  Bawling, probably.

Each stanza takes us through dealing with different areas. Starting from the top, ‘high up around the tower’ a cold storm is blowing. We have to imagine the baby crying (perhaps even shrieking). She could well be ill. You never know with these things. Is she just teething? Has she got a headache? Is it serious? We just have to be patient. The storm will pass, the sun will come out and colour will come back to her cheeks.

Now that we are awake let us check below (stanza two), ‘down in the deep valley’. Oh, dear, a waterfall. Let’s clean that up. Just be patient and it will all be fine (unless it’s diarrhoea – you never know, it could be cholera). Further down the line it will all be flowing swimmingly.

So, you need changing. Now (stanza 3) you are bare, like a tree in winter. There isn’t much protection from the wind for a little dove like you, but be patient and there will soon be some leaves and petals to make a nest with. The only thing is, it isn’t spring yet and you are still naked. There are no more rags we can spare for you, particularly since you don’t look as if you are going to get over this. This is a bare, bare tree.

You are freezing (stanza 4) and I am not in a position to warm, feed or house you. You will have to wait for an angel to call you. Let’s put you in this little wooden box. It’s the best room reserved in the hotel for God’s special friends.

This conflation of the crib and the coffin is a commonplace in lullabies, of course, but its appearance here, where there are so many signs that the baby is seriously ill already, is rather disturbing. The bare honesty of telling the child that she has no friend to rely on seems to underline the cruelty of the fib about her being given the special guest room reserved for God’s special people. This calls into question the sincerity of all the earlier assurances, that the storm will pass, the rapids and whirlpools will give way to a  merry stream and that the meadows will blossom and you will be able to hide in a warm, camouflaged nest.

Many of us did weather those storms and perhaps we came to believe the  assurances that it would all be all right in the end, but far too many experienced (and still experience) the reality of infant mortality. For them the sun never did come out and the meadow did not blossom. When their nurse told them to stop crying because everything was going to be all right, perhaps they should not have believed her. They had good reason to cry.

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Peter Rastl has now discovered that the musical setting (D 122) is not by Schubert. The musical setting is by Mariane Lubi and was published in 1801.

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Original Spelling

Am hohen, hohen Thurm,
Da weht ein kalter Sturm:
Geduld! die Glöcklein läuten,
Die Sonne blickt von weiten.
Am hohen, hohen Turm,
Da weht ein kalter Sturm.

Im tiefen, tiefen Thal,
Da rauscht ein Wasserfall:
Geduld! ein Bißchen weiter,
Dann rinnt das Bächlein heiter.
Im tiefen, tiefen Thal,
Da rauscht ein Wasserfall.

Am kahlen, kahlen Baum,
Deckt sich ein Täubchen kaum:
Geduld! bald blühn die Auen,
Dann wird's sein Nestchen bauen.
Am kahlen, kahlen Baum,
Deckt sich ein Täubchen kaum.

Dich friert, mein Töchterlein!
Kein Freund sagt: komm herein!
Laß unser Stündchen schlagen,
Dann werden's Englein sagen.
Das beste Stübchen gibt
Gott jenem, den er liebt.

Confirmed by Peter Rastl with Gedichte von Michael Lubi. Grätz 1804, gedruckt bey den Gebrüdern Tanzer, pages 167-168.

Note (with thanks to Peter Rastl for discovering this) : A song by Mariane Lubi was erroneously included in the 1872 Alte Gesamtausgabe and attributed to Schubert. Given the Deutsch number D 122, it was said to have been composed in 1814, but the song was in fact by Mariane Lubi, the wife of the author of the text. The song was first published in Vienna in 1801.