Chapter 54

The morning of the song festival dawned clear and fine. Early in the morning, Hans Sachs seated himself in his shop, beside his sunny window, his work on the bench before him, but he let it go unheeded as he fell to reading. David found his master thus employed when he stole into the shop, after peeping to make sure that Hans would pay no attention to him. David was not at all sure of the reception his master would give him after the riot in which he had taken a hand the night before. As Hans did not look up, David set the basket he carried upon the table, and began to take out the things in it. First there were flowers and bright-coloured ribbons, and at the very bottom a cake and a sausage. He was just beginning to eat the sausage when Hans Sachs turned a page of his book noisily. David, knowing his guilty part in the fight, looked warily at his master.

"Master, I have taken the shoes to Beckmesser and----" Sachs looked at him abstractedly.

"Do not disturb our guest, Sir Walther," he said, seeming to forget David's misbehaviour. "Eat thy cakes and be happy--only do not wake our guest."

Soon David went out while Sachs still sat thinking of the situation and half decided to take a part in the contest himself--since it were a shame to have Beckmesser win Eva. While he was thus lost in contemplation, Walther woke and came from his room.

"Ah, dear Hans--I have had a glorious dream," he cried. "It is so splendid that I hardly dare think of it."

"Can it be thou hast dreamed a song?" Sachs asked breathlessly.

"Even if I had, what help would it bring me, friend Sachs, since the Mastersingers will not treat me fairly?"

"Stay, stay, Walther, not so fast! I want to say of yesterday's experience: the Mastersingers are, after all, men of honour. They were hard on thee yesterday, but thou hast troubled them much. Thy song was as strange, its kind as new to them as it was beautiful, and they have thought of it again and again since then. If they can make themselves familiar with such beauty they will not fail to give thee credit. I own I am much troubled and know not what to do for you."

"I wonder could it be possible that I have had an inspiration in my sleep that might lead me to win my dear Eva?" the knight said, taking heart.

"That we shall soon know. Sir Walther, stand thou there, and sing thy song, and I will sit here and write it down. So it shall not escape thee. Come, begin, Sir Knight," Sachs cried, becoming hopeful for the young man. Trembling with anxiety Walther took his stand and began his song, while Hans placed himself at the table to write it down.

[Music:

Bathed in the sunlight at dawn of the day, when blossoms rare made sweet the air, with beauties teeming, past all dreaming, a glorious garden lay, cheering my way.]

As the knight sang he became more and more inspired and when he had finished Hans Sachs was wild with delight.

"It is true!--you have had a wonderful inspiration. Go now to your room, and there you will find clothing gay enough for this great occasion. No matter how it came there!--it is there! I have all along believed in you, and that you would sing, and I have provided for it." The knight went rejoicing to put on his new clothes.

Now Hans, when he went with Walther to his bedroom, had left the manuscript of the great song upon the table, and no sooner had he gone out than Beckmesser, looking through the window and finding the place empty, slipped in. He was limping from the effects of the fight and altogether cut a most ridiculous figure. He was very richly dressed, but that did not conceal his battered appearance. Every step he took he rubbed first his back and then his shins. He should have been in bed and covered with liniments. Suddenly he espied the song upon Hans's table. He believed that after all Hans was going to sing, and if he should, all would be up with himself. Wild with rage, Beckmesser picked up the song and stuffed it into his pocket. No sooner had he done so than the bedroom door opened, and Hans Sachs came out in gala dress, ready for the festival; seeing Beckmesser, he paused in surprise.

"What, you? Sir Marker? Surely those shoes of yours do not give you trouble so soon?"

"Trouble! The devil! Such shoes never were. They are so thin, I can feel the smallest cobblestone through them. No matter about the shoes, however--though I came to complain to you about them--for I have found another and far worse cause of complaint. I thought you were not to sing."

"Neither am I."

"What, you deny it--when I have just found you out!" Beckmesser cried in a foaming rage. Hans looked at the table and saw that the manuscript was gone. He grinned.

"So, you took the song, did you?" he asked.

"The ink was still wet."

"True, I'll be bound!"

"So then I've caught you deceiving!"

"Well, at least you never caught me stealing, and to save you from the charge I'll just give you that song," Hans replied, still smiling. Beckmesser stared at him.

"I'll warrant you have the song by heart," he said, narrowly eyeing the shoemaker.

"No, that I haven't. And further than that, I'll promise you not to lay any claim to it that shall thwart your use of it--if you really want it." Hans spoke carelessly, watching the greedy town clerk from the tail of his eye.

"You mean truly, that I may use that song as I like?"

"Sing it if you like--and know how," Sachs said obligingly.

"A song by Hans Sachs!" he exclaimed, unable to hide his joy--because no one in Nuremberg could possibly write a song like Sachs. "Well, well, this is very decent of you, Sachs! I can understand how anxious you are to make friends with me, after your bad treatment last night." Beckmesser spoke patronizingly, while his heart was fairly bursting with new hope. Any song by Hans Sachs would certainly win him the prize, even if he could but half sing it.

"If I am to oblige you by using this song," he hesitated, "then swear to me you will not undo me by laying claim to it." After all, he was feeling considerable anxiety about it. That he should be saved in this manner was quite miraculous.

"I'll give my oath never to claim it so long as I live," Sachs answered earnestly, thinking all the while what a rascal Beckmesser was. "But, friend Beckmesser, one word; I am no scoffer, but truly, knowing the song as I do, I have my doubts about your being able to learn it in an hour or so. The song is not easy."

"Have no fear, Hans Sachs. As a poet, your place is first, I know; but believe me, friend, when it comes to 'tone' and 'mode,' and the power to sing, I confess I have no fear--nor an equal," the conceited ass declared. "I tell you, confidentially, I have now no fear of that presumptuous fellow, Walther. With this song and my great genius, we shall no longer fear his bobbing upon the scene and doing harm." Assured of success at last, away went Beckmesser, limping and stumbling, to learn his song.

"Well, never did I see so malicious a fellow," Hans declared, as Beckmesser stumbled out of sight. "And there comes Evchen--hello, my Evchen, thou art dressed very fine. Well, well, it is to be thy wedding day, to be sure."

"Yes--but the shoe pinches," she said putting her little foot upon the bench.

"That will never do. That must be fixed," Hans answered gravely, his eyes twinkling. He fell to examining the shoes. "Why, my child, what is wrong with it? I find it a very fine fit?"

"Nay, it is too broad."

"Tut, tut, that is thy vanity. The shoe fits close, my dear."

"Well, then I think it is the toes that hurt--or maybe the heel, or maybe--" she looked all about, hoping to see Walther. At that moment he entered, and Eva cried out. Then Hans said:

"Ah, ah! Ho, ho! That is where the shoe pinches, eh? Well, be patient, that fault I shall mend very soon," he declared, thinking of the song that Beckmesser had stolen, while he took off the shoe and sat once more at his bench. Then he said slyly:

"Lately I heard a beauteous song. I would I might hear its third verse once more." Immediately, Walther, looking at Eva, began softly to sing the famous song. As it magically swelled, Sachs came to her and again fitted the shoes. When the song was rapturously finished, Eva burst into hysterical sobbing, and threw herself into the shoemaker's arms. But this scene was interrupted by the coming of Lena and David, all dressed for the fete.

"Come, just in time!" Sachs cried. "Now listen to what I have to say, children. In this room, a song has just been made by this knight, who duly sang it before me and before Eva. Now, do not forget this, I charge you; so let us be off to hear him christened a Mastersinger."

All then went out into the street except David, who lingered a moment to fasten up the house. All the way to the meadow where the fete was to be held were sounding trumpets and horns, glad shouts and laughter. Very soon the little group from Sachs's reached the fete, and there they found a gala sight.

Many guilds had arrived and were constantly arriving. Colours were planted upon the raised benches which each guild occupied by itself. A little stream ran through the meadow, and upon its waters boats were continually being rowed, full of laughing men and women, girls and boys. As each new guild disembarked, it planted its colours. Refreshment stands were all about, and apprentices and journeymen were having great sport.

The apprentices and girls began a fine dance, while the people kept landing at the dock and coming from their boats.

There came the bakers, the tailors, and the smiths; then the informal gaiety came to a sudden pause and the cry went up that the great Mastersingers themselves had arrived. They disembarked and formed a long procession, Kothner going ahead bearing the banner, which had the portrait of King David and his harp upon it.

At sight of the banner all waved their hats, while the Masters proceeded to their platform.

When they had reached their place, Pogner led Eva forward, and at the same moment Hans Sachs arrived and again all waved and cheered loudly. Eva took the place of honour, and behind them all was--Beckmesser, wildly struggling to learn his great song. He kept taking the manuscript from his pocket and putting it back, sweating and mumbling, standing first on one of his sore feet and then upon the other, a ridiculous figure, indeed.

At length, Sachs stood up and spoke to those who had welcomed him so graciously.

"Friends, since I am beloved of thee, I have one favour to ask. The prize this day is to be a unique one, and I ask that the contest be open. It is no more than fair, since so much is to be won. I ask that no one who shall ask for a chance to sing for this fair prize be denied. Shall this be so?"

While he waited for an answer, every one was in commotion.

"Say, Marker," he asked of Beckmesser, "is this not as it should be?"

That rascal was wiping his face from which the sweat was streaming and trying in despair to conquer the knight's song.

"You know you need not sing that song unless you wish," Hans reminded him, aside.

"My own is abandoned, and now it is too late for me to make another," Beckmesser moaned; "but with you out of the contest--well, I shall surely win with anything. You must not desert me now."

"Well, let it be agreed," Hans cried aloud, "that the contest shall be open to all; so now begin."

"The oldest first," Kothner cried, thus calling attention to the age of Beckmesser. "Begin, Beckmesser," another shouted.

"Oh, the devil," Beckmesser moaned, trying to peep again at the song which he had not been able to learn. He desperately ascended the mound which was reserved for the singers, escorted by an apprentice. He stumbled and nearly fell, so excited was he, and so frightened at his plight, for he did not know the song, and he had none of his own. Altogether he was in a bad way--but he was yet to be in a worse!

"Come and make this mound more firm," he snarled, nearly falling down. At that everybody laughed. Finally he placed himself, and all waited for him to begin. This is how he sang the words of the first stanza:

Bathing in sunlight at dawning of the day, With bosom bare, To greet the air; My beauty steaming, Faster dreaming, A garden roundelay wearied my way.

Only compare this with the words of the song as Walther sang them! The music matched the words for absurdity.

"Good gracious! He's lost his senses," one Mastersinger said to another. Beckmesser, realizing that he was not getting the song right, became more and more confused. He felt the amazement of the people, and that made him desperate. At last, half crazed with rage and shame, he pulled the song from his pocket and peeped at it. Then he tried again, but turned giddy, and at last tottered down from the mound, while people began to jeer at him. Hans Sachs might have been sorry for the wretch, had he not known how dishonest he had been, willing to use another's song that he might gain the prize.

Beckmesser rushed furiously toward Sachs and shook his fist at him:

"Oh, ye accursed cobbler! Ye have ruined me," he screamed, and rushing madly away he lost himself in the crowd. In his rage, he had screamed that the song was Sachs's, but nobody would believe him, because, as Beckmesser had sung it, it had sounded so absurd.

Sachs took the manuscript quietly up, after Beckmesser had thrown it down.

"The song is not mine," he declared. "But I vow it is a most lovely song, and that it has been sung wrong. I have been accused of making this, and now I deny it. I beg of the one who wrote it to come forth now and sing it as it should be sung. It is the song of a great master, believe me, friends and Mastersingers. Poet, come forth, I pray you," he called, and then Walther stepped to the mound, modestly. Every one beheld him with pleasure. He was indeed a fine and gallant-looking fellow.

"Now, Masters, hold the song; and since I swear that I did not write it, but know the one who did--let my words be proved. Stand, Sir Knight, and prove my truth." Then Kothner took the manuscript that the Mastersingers might follow the singing and know if the knight was honest; and Walther, standing in the singers' place, began the song a little fearfully.

The Masters following him recognized the truth of all that Hans Sachs had spoken, and presently dropped the paper in amazement. They became lost in listening to the music, which swelled higher and higher, growing more and more beautiful with every measure, till all the people of Nuremberg sat spellbound. At last:

"His prize, his prize!" they shouted; and Pogner came to him weeping with joy.

"It is thy doing," Walther said tremblingly to Hans; and then he was conducted to where Eva awaited him. He stooped and she placed the victor's wreath upon his head. But that was not the end. The Mastersingers turned to Pogner:

"Herr Pogner, it is thy right to crown the knight who has won this prize," and with that Pogner hung a golden chain about Walther's neck, from which was suspended three medals. Walther would have refused it.

"I have a dearer prize than this, my friends," he cried, looking at Eva.

"Nay, take thy chain, too," Sachs urged him, smiling. "That shall be the sign of the Mastersingers' approval." Walther bowed his head and received the chain, while the people stood up and shouted.

Thus in one day, the knight, Walther von Stolzing, became a bridegroom and a Mastersinger.

LOHENGRIN

CHARACTERS OF THE OPERA

Lohengrin, Knight of the Holy Grail. Henry I, King of Germany. Frederick of Telramund, a noble of Brabant. The Royal Herald. Gottfried, Elsa's brother, and mute. Four nobles of Brabant. Elsa von Brabant. Ortrud, wife of Telramund. Four pages.

Saxons, nobles of Brabant, ladies, and pages.

The story is laid in Antwerp, during the first half of the tenth century.

First production at Weimar, Germany, August 28, 1850.

Composer: Richard Wagner.