HANS SACHS Herr BETZ. WALTER Herr NACHBAUER. BECKMESSER Herr HOELZEL. DAVID Herr SCHLOSSER. EVA Mlle. MALLINGER. MAGDALENA Mme. DIETZ.
The plan of “The Mastersingers” was conceived about the same time as that of “Lohengrin,” during the composer’s stay at Marienbad, and occupied his attention at intervals for twenty years, as it was not finished until 1867. As is clearly apparent both from its music and text, it was intended as a satire upon the composer’s critics, who had charged that he was incapable of writing melody. It is easy to see that these critics are symbolized by the old pedant Beckmesser, and that in Walter we have Wagner himself. When he is first brought in contact with the Mastersingers, and one of their number, Kothner, asks him if he gained his knowledge in any school, he replies, “The wood before the Vogelweid’, ’twas there I learnt my singing;” and again he answers:—
“What winter night.
What wood so bright,
What book and nature brought me,
What poet songs of magic might
Mysteriously have taught me,
On horses’
tramp,
On field and camp,
On knights arrayed
For war parade
My mind its powers exerted.”
The story is not only one of love as between Walter and Eva, but of satirical protest as between Walter and Beckmesser, and the two subjects are illustrated not only with delicate fancy but with the liveliest of humor. The work is replete with melody. It has chorales, marches, folk-songs, duets, quintets, ensembles, and choruses, and yet the composer does not lose sight of his theories; for here we observe as characteristic a use of motives and as skilful a combination of them as can be found in any of his works. To thoroughly comprehend the story, it is necessary to understand the conditions one had to fulfil before he could be a mastersinger. First of all he must master the “Tabulatur,” which included the rules and prohibitions. Then he must have the requisite acquaintance with the various methods of rhyming verse, and with the manner of fitting appropriate music to it. One who had partially mastered the Tabulatur was termed a “scholar;” the one who had thoroughly learned it, a “schoolman;” the one who could improvise verses, a “poet;” and the one who could set music to his verses, a “mastersinger.” In the test there were thirty-three faults to be guarded against; and whenever the marker had chalked up seven against the candidate, he was declared to have oversung himself and lost the coveted honor.