usness, of the riotous fooling of the apprentices, until we
have them all hard at work united in accompanying Walther's song in
what is nothing more nor less than a grand operatic finale. The thing
is justified theatrically, so to speak, rather than truly
dramatically; for though the masters manifest dissatisfaction by their
ejaculations, and the 'prentices, seeing the way the wind blows, get
out of hand, and chant their scoffing song in the most uproarious
fashion, Walther, inspired by a sense that he is right and a
determination not to be put down, continues his song to the end. Then
he proudly quits the room and the rest follow in confusion, leaving
Sachs for a moment to show his vexation; then the curtain drops.

III

The music of this Act is of the highest order of beauty and never
falls to the level of mere prettiness; from the first note to the
last it is vigorous, sturdy. The combination of strength with delicacy
and gentleness is extraordinary: one feels that the reserve of this
strength behind it all must be unlimited. The orchestration is like
the music: it is always exactly appropriate to the music. One
characteristic of the themes should be noted: with the solitary
exception of that expressive of the deep longing in the heart of Sachs
(_d_) all are singable. Even the burgher motive can be sung and is
sung. When we consider the other operas we perceive that this is by no
means always the case. The _Dutchman's_ motive is not so much sung as
jodelled by Senta; the Montsalvat music is rather orchestral than
vocal; all the motives in _Tristan_ are either orchestral or
declamatory. In saying this I do not at all underrate the other
operas: simply I wish to point out the very marked difference in the
quality of the music. The _Mastersingers_ is a long song, and the
first act the first verse of it. Such a profusion of melodies has
never been scattered over one act of an opera--not songs simply
pleasing to the ear, but constituting subjects surcharged with feeling
and capable of unfolding, as the opera goes on, into fresh forms of
the rarest beauty and splendour. We cannot lay our finger on a
superfluous bar, not one that can be cut without badly injuring the
whole work. This criticism applies to the other two acts. As new
material is introduced it is all singable; though harmonious effects
are freely used they are all there to enforce the melody. The swan, or
river, phrase in _Lohengrin_ is, of course, purely a