victim!  Safely bedded in this wise, not only the overture, but, as will appear in the sequel, the entire opera of Die Meistersinger, or as much of it as was left after the Capellmeister’s cuts, was presented to the public of Dresden.  On this occasion, correctly and technically speaking, the merits of the conductor [Footnote:  The late Julius Rietz.] consisted in this:  he made a guess at the main tempo, chose the broadest nuance of it, and spread this over the whole, beating the steadiest and stiffest square time from beginning to end!  The ultimate results were as follows:  I had made use of the combination of the two main themes under an ideal Tempo Andante alia breve (quoted above from the conclusion of the overture, page 94) to form a pleasant and cheerful conclusion to the entire opera, something after the manner of a burden to some old popular song:  I had augmented and enlarged the treatment of the thematic combination for this purpose, and now employed it as a sort of accompaniment to Hans Sachs’s epilogising praise of the “Master-singers,” and to his consolatory rhymes upon German art, with which the work ends.  Though the words are serious, the closing apostrophe is none the less meant to have a cheering and hopeful effect; and, to produce this, I counted upon that simple thematic combination, the rhythmical movement of which was intended to proceed smoothly, and was not meant to assume a pompous character, except just before the end, when the chorus enters.  Now in the overture, the conductor had failed to see the necessity of a modification of the original march-like tempo in the direction of an Andante alla breve; and, of course, here—­at the close of the opera—­he equally failed to feel that the movement was not directly connected with the march tempo—­his first mistake was therefore continued, and he proceeded to confine and hold fast the warmly-feeling singer of the part of Hans Sachs in rigid 4/4 time, and to compel him to deliver his final address in the stiffest and most awkward manner possible.  Friends of mine requested me to permit a large “cut” for Dresden, as the effect of the close was so very depressing.  I declined; and the complaints soon ceased.  At length I came to understand the reason why; the Capellmeister had acted for the obstinate composer; “solely with a view to the good of the work,” he had followed the dictates of his artistic insight and conscience, had laid his hands on the troublesome apostrophe, and simply “Cut” it.

“Cut!  Cut!”—­this is the ultimo ratio of our conductors; by its aid they establish a satisfactory equilibrium between their own incompetence, and the proper execution of the artistic tasks before them.  They remember the proverb:  “What I know not, burns me not!” ("was ich nicht weiss, macht mich nicht heiss”) and the public cannot object to an arrangement so eminently practical.  It only remains for me to consider what I am to say to a performance of my work, which thus appears enclosed