Wer nie sein Brot mit Tränen aß, D 478/2

Anyone who has never eaten their bread with tears

(Poet's title: Wer nie sein Brot mit Tränen aß)

Part of  Goethe: Wilhelm Meisters Lehrjahre 

All translations into English that appear on this website, unless otherwise stated, are by Malcolm Wren. You are free to use them on condition that you acknowledge Malcolm Wren as the translator and schubertsong.uk as the source. Unless otherwise stated, the comments and essays that appear after the texts and translations are by Malcolm Wren and are © Copyright.

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In Goethe’s novel, Wilhelm Meister’s encounter with a group of ‘theatricals’ proves a turning point in his life. The young acrobat Mignon and the elderly (unnamed) minstrel have a particular effect on him, and on the morning after his first experience of a public performance by the old man he determines to go and look for him:

In der verdrießlichen Unruhe, in der er sich befand, fiel ihm ein, den Alten aufzusuchen, durch dessen Harfe er die bösen Geister zu verscheuchen hoffte. Man wies ihn, als er nach dem Manne fragte, an ein schlechtes Wirtshaus in einem entfernten Winkel des Städtchens und in demselben die Treppe hinauf bis auf den Boden, wo ihm der süße Harfenklang aus einer Kammer entgegenschallte. Es waren herzrührende, klagende Töne, von einem traurigen, ängstlichen Gesange begleitet. Wilhelm schlich an die Türe, und da der gute Alte eine Art von Phantasie vortrug und wenige Strophen teils singend, teils rezitierend immer wiederholte, konnte der Horcher nach einer kurzen Aufmerksamkeit ungefähr folgendes verstehen:

Wer nie sein Brot mit Tränen aß, 
Wer nie die kummervollen Nächte 
Auf seinem Bette weinend saß, 
Der kennt euch nicht, ihr himmlischen Mächte.

Ihr führt ins Leben uns hinein, 
Ihr lasst den Armen schuldig werden, 
Dann überlasst ihr ihn der Pein, 
Denn alle Schuld rächt sich auf Erden.

Die wehmütige, herzliche Klage drang tief in die Seele des Hörers. Es schien ihm, als ob der Alte manchmal von Tränen gehindert würde, fortzufahren; dann klangen die Saiten allein, bis sich wieder die Stimme leise in gebrochenen Lauten darein mischte. Wilhelm stand an dem Pfosten, seine Seele war tief gerührt, die Trauer des Unbekannten schloß sein beklommenes Herz auf; er widerstand nicht dem Mitgefühl und konnte und wollte die Tränen nicht zurückhalten, die des Alten herzliche Klage endlich auch aus seinen Augen hervorlockte. Alle Schmerzen, die seine Seele drückten, lösten sich zu gleicher Zeit auf, er überließ sich ihnen ganz, stieß die Kammertüre auf und stand vor dem Alten, der ein schlechtes Bette, den einzigen Hausrat dieser armseligen Wohnung, zu seinem Sitze zu nehmen genötigt gewesen.

Finding himself in a state of annoying restlessness it occurred to him to go in search of the old man, by means of whose harp he hoped to be able to shake off the evil spirits. When he asked about this man he was directed to a rough hostel in a remote corner of the little town and there he went up the stairs to the attic, where he could hear the sweet sound of the harp echoing around. There were heart-rending, sombre notes, accompanied by sad, apprehensive singing. Wilhelm crept up to the door and, since the good old man was conveying a sort of fantasy, half singing a few verses and half reciting, but always repeating himself, it was possible for the listener (after paying attention for a while) to make out something like the following:

Anyone who has never eaten their bread with tears,
Anyone who has never spent nights full of anxiety
Sitting weeping on their bed,
That person does not know you, you heavenly powers.

You lead us into life,
You let the poor become guilty,
And then you leave them to their distress:
For every debt is repaid on earth.

This melancholy, heartfelt lament forced itself deep into the soul of the listener. It appeared to him that the old man was sometimes prevented from continuing by tears; and then only the strings resounded until the voice joined in again, gently and disjointedly. Wilhelm stood by the edge of the door, his soul was deeply stirred, the stranger's sadness unlocked his heart; he did nothing to stop the feeling of sympathy and he was unable and unwilling to hold back the tears which eventually emerged from his eyes as a result of the old man's heart-felt lament. All of the pain that was pressing on his soul dissolved at that moment, he let go of himself completely, pushed the door open and stood in front of the old man, who had been forced to use an inadequate bed as his seat, the only furniture available in these wretched lodgings.

This final detail about the old man sitting on a bed rather than a chair draws our attention back to the first strophe of his lament: anyone who has never spent a disturbed, sleepless night sobbing on his or her bed is unacquainted with the forces which control human life. These ‘heavenly powers’ (it is not clear if the phrase is ironic or deadly serious) wantonly bring us into being, allow us sufficient freedom to make mistakes and then stand by as we are forced to pay the penalty for our misdeeds. We might be convinced that there were mitigating circumstances or that we are not to blame for our behaviour, but no such excuses will be accepted. Our transgressions call out for punishment. We are guilty (schuldig) however poor we are (Ihr lasst den Armen schuldig werden / you allow poor wretches to become guilty). The English language cannot capture the full breadth of the German words Schuld and schuldig, which are not simply ‘guilt’ and ‘guilty’ but also ‘debt’ and ‘in debt’. ‘You allow poor wretches to fall into debt and every debt has to be repaid on earth’. This is all too familiar. It is always those with least who have to pay most, both literally and metaphorically. It is hardly surprising that we weep as we eat.

Wilhelm Meister feels intuitively that the harp player is not only expressing a private grief (later on in the novel the secret of the harpist’s particular unwitting sin will emerge); Wilhelm’s own response to the overheard song shows that the old man has struck a chord with his listener. In the context of the novel, a classic Bildungsroman following the spiritual growth of a young man unsure of his way in the world, Wilhelm’s openness to the suffering expressed in this bleak song is a sign that it is not only those who are materially poor who have to pay a penalty. Through Wilhelm’s encounter with the harpist, he develops a greater sensitivity to his own behaviour and comes to understand that there will be consequences of his previous actions that he had never previously expected. Wilhelm, like the rest of us, finds that ‘they’, the powers that be, the gods, the fates, circumstances, whatever they are, hurl us into the world. They then let us get on with it and, inevitably, we make a mess of it all. They leave us to clear up the mess and pay for the damage. It just isn’t fair. Anybody who hasn’t wept as a result doesn’t know the first thing about it.

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Original Spelling

Wer nie sein Brod mit Thränen aß

Wer nie sein Brod mit Thränen aß, 
Wer nie die kummervollen Nächte 
Auf seinem Bette weinend saß, 
Der kennt euch nicht, ihr himmlischen Mächte!   

Ihr führt ins Leben uns hinein, 
Ihr laßt den Armen schuldig werden, 
Dann überlaßt ihr ihn der Pein: 
Denn alle Schuld rächt sich auf Erden.

Confirmed by Peter Rastl with Schubert’s source, Goethe’s Werke. Zweyter Band. Original-Ausgabe. Wien, 1816. Bey Chr. Kaulfuß und C. Armbruster. Stuttgart. In der J. G. Cotta’schen Buchhandlung. Gedruckt bey Anton Strauß page 132; with Goethe’s Werke. Vollständige Ausgabe letzter Hand. Zweyter Band. Stuttgart und Tübingen, in der J.G.Cotta’schen Buchhandlung. 1827, page 122; and with Goethe’s Werke. Vollständige Ausgabe letzter Hand. Achtzehnter Band. Stuttgart und Tübingen, in der J.G.Cotta’schen Buchhandlung. 1828, pages 217-218.

First published in Wilhelm Meisters Lehrjahre. Ein Roman. Herausgegeben von Goethe. Erster Band. Berlin. Bey Johann Friedrich Unger. 1795, page 346. The poem appears in Book 2, Chapter 13 of Goethe’s novel.

To see an early edition of the poem, go to page 132 [140 von 350] here: http://digital.onb.ac.at/OnbViewer/viewer.faces?doc=ABO_%2BZ223421905

For Carlyle’s English translation of Wilhelm Meister, go to http://www.bartleby.com/ebook/adobe/314.pdf