d
Matheson evidently thought the bitter outdid the sweet. In the
_Mastersingers_, however, the lady is all that is attractive, and
goodly sport is expected. Hans Sachs himself, though past middle-age,
loves her, and might well hope to win; Beckmesser, another master of
the guild, means to do his best; and a young knight, Walther von
Stolzing, has just become infatuated with her and she with him. He
cannot strive in the contest, however, not being a master; and when he
submits to a trial the guild rejects him with scorn. Things have
arrived at this point at the end of the first Act. In the next,
Walther and Eva, desperate, resolve to fly under cover of darkness;
Sachs overhears them planning and sings a curious sort of
warning-song, letting them know that he is on the look-out and will
prevent the elopement; Beckmesser comes to serenade Eva, and David, an
apprentice, thinks he has come after _his_ (David's) sweetheart and
falls to fisticuffs with him; there is a street row, amidst which Eva
escapes into her father's house, while Sachs pulls Walther into his.
In the third Act Eva, who has already told Sachs quite plainly enough
that if only a master may win her, and Walther cannot become a master,
she prefers him to any other, practically repeats her hint. But
Walther has composed another song and Sachs has devised a scheme: if
Walther sings his song he is certain to be the victor, and Sachs has
determined that by hook or by crook he must sing it. Beckmesser grabs
the song, under the impression it is by Sachs; Sachs, without
committing himself, tells him to make use of it at the contest if he
can. The people gather to watch and hear and judge; Beckmesser makes a
muddle of the song and is laughed off the scene; then Sachs pleads
Walther's case, and he is allowed, though not a master, to sing. He
triumphs, and by one stroke is admitted to the guild and wins the
prize. Virtually the play ends here. Sachs' winding-up address can
only be dealt with in connection with the music.
II
The personality, the soul, of Sachs, its conflict with itself, its
victory over itself and renunciation--undoubtedly Wagner felt this to
be the centre of the action of the play, and undoubtedly without it he
could never have gained the impulse to write the drama at all. It
gives the note of seriousness, even sadness, without which all humour
is the crackling of thorns under the pot, without which the play would
be farce with a trite love adven
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