Wagner Without Fear

by William Berger

  Act I

  Setting: The nave of Saint Catherine’s Church in Nuremberg, around the year 1550. Services are in progress.

  Eva, daughter of the wealthy Mastersinger Veit Pogner, is at services with her nurse Magdalena. The congregation is singing a chorale. Walther von Stolzing, a young knight recently arrived in Nuremberg, is standing in the back of the church apart from the congregation, trying to get Eva’s attention. When the chorale is finished, the members of the congregation leave, and Walther pushes his way through them to approach Eva.

  Comment: The boisterous Prelude contrasts sharply with the very serious chorale directly following it. Chorales are relatively simple hymns meant to be sung in the vernacular by the congregation, often using familiar tunes as their basis. Martin Luther’s “A Mighty Fortress is Our God” is probably the most famous example. Wagner composed an excellent one for this opening moment of the opera, and softens the chorale’s necessary severity by scoring sweet love music in the orchestra between verses, depicting Walther panting on the sidelines.

  Walther gets close enough to Eva to ask her to stop and hear just a word from him. Eva gets rid of her nurse Magdalena by sending her back to find a missing kerchief. Walther floridly begins begging pardon for breaching etiquette, but before he can get to the point, Magdalena returns with the kerchief. Eva tells her to go back and find her brooch, but Magdalena again returns before Walther can get to the point. Eva now sends her back for her prayerbook, and Walther manages to spit out his question: Is Eva betrothed? The young knight was not quick enough, for Magdalena returns in time to hear the question, and begins to fuss. The nurse thanks Walther for the attention. May they expect him at Herr Pogner’s house again? Walther says he wishes he never saw Pogner’s house, upsetting Magdalena. Pogner had brought the stranger home and offered him hospitality the night before, and this is how it is repaid? They certainly cannot discuss such delicate matters here. What will people say? Eva points out that the church is now empty, but that worries Magdalena all the more. Walther demands an answer to his question, and, just then, Magdalena sees David, Hans Sachs’s young apprentice, whom she fancies. The sight of David melts her propriety a bit, and she explains to Walther that Eva is, in a sense, betrothed, though no one knows who the bridegroom is. The judges will name the bridegroom tomorrow, when they award the prize—Eva—to a Mastersinger after a song contest. Does the bride choose? asks Walther. Forgetting herself, Eva cries, “You, or no one!,” almost causing Magdalena to faint on the spot.

  Walther paces, and the ladies size him up. Does he not look like David? asks Eva. Magdalena thinks she is referring to her sweetheart, or at least to Saint David, a patron of poets, but Eva means the David who slew Goliath, the handsome one in the painting by Dürer. Magdalena sighs, “Ah, David!” and David, the apprentice, appears.

  Comment: Eva must send Magdalena out of the room to look for small personal items not once, not twice, but three times. This sets the tone for the whole opera: understatement is not to be expected.

  This scene has Wagner incapable of resisting another name game, as in almost all his operas. Who wouldn’t think Eva is speaking of Magdalena’s boyfriend? The Saint David they refer to is the patron of lyric poets and is also the patron saint of Wales, that nation of poetry and song competitions, and his emblem is the harp. Some commentators refer to this Saint David as the patron of the Mastersingers, but Act III makes it clear that King David, who is credited with the Psalms, is their patron. The subsequent emphasis on King David is a curious choice for the anti-Semitic Wagner, but he probably found a way to convince himself that David wasn’t really Jewish. The reference to “the painting” is a nice way to remind the audience that Albrecht Dürer worked in Nuremberg—further proof of the artistic distinction of that city.

  Magdalena flirts briefly with David, who presently must return to work. He is setting up a platform for a meeting of the Mastersingers, who are having trials in a little while. Anyone can be declared a Mastersinger who passes the test, and then may compete for Eva’s hand on the next day. Magdalena tells Walther to wait there and learn the rules of the contest from David. Herr Pogner will be there shortly, and good luck may side with Walther. The young knight tells Eva he will see her that evening. He will win her, whether with his sword or by singing a mastersong! The two ladies hurry away.

  Comment: David is usually portrayed by an up-and-coming tenor who invariably feels he really should be singing Walther. Count on David to jump around onstage in some fortyish tenor’s vain attempt to portray adolescence. If, in the following scene, you feel like strangling this overaged brat, forbear. A good, if not star, second tenor is necessary for the superb quintet in this opera’s Act III.

  Magdalena is Eva’s nurse, which is a theatrical way to say “female companion” or “mother figure,” rather than today’s meaning of “medical attendant.” In a nice touch indicative of the humanity for which this opera is praised, Wagner hints that Magdalena is slightly older than David. The other apprentices give David some good-natured ribbing about this. Since today’s directors are usually incapable of grasping the notion of “slightly,” one often sees David and Magdalena portrayed as a Renaissance Harold and Maude.

  Apprentices arrive, moving furniture and setting up for the meeting of the Mastersingers. They tell David to help them and stop chattering, but he dismisses them and speaks to Walther instead. “Begin!” he says, mysteriously. That’s what the Marker will say, and then one must start singing. When Walther asks who the Marker is, David wonders if the knight has ever been to a song contest before. “Not one with judges,” answers Walther. David is perplexed. Walther has never studied, yet he wants to become a Mastersinger that very day. David himself has been studying for a year with the greatest of them all, Hans Sachs, learning both the art of the mastersong and the trade of cobbling from his learned hands. Walther interjects that David must know how to make a good pair of shoes by now.

  Yes, that takes time, says David, who is anxious to show off how much he has learned. He rattles off the curious names of the different tones and melodies used in mastersongs: the “red,” the “blue,” the “fennel,” the “cinnamon-stick,” the “snail,” and thirty-one others. Walther cries to heaven for help with this endless list of tones and melodies! But those are just their names! says David. One must know how to sing them according to the rules. Plenty of breath, no cracking, no humming before or after the word, and every ornament just as the Masters require them. Any stray variation of detail could disqualify the contender, even if everything else were well sung. David himself has worked hard, but hasn’t gotten very far. When he errs, he gets the “knee-strap stroke” melody from his Master Sachs. Let this be a warning to Walther: first he must be a singer and a poet, then learn to combine the arts to become a Mastersinger. The other apprentices berate David for talking rather than helping them to set up the room for the Mastersingers.

  Walther exclaims the Master’s honor will be his. He must only find the right tone for his verse. David tells the apprentices they are setting up the room wrong. Only the small box must be used, as this is a trial day rather than a full competition or a song school. The apprentices erect a small stage in the middle of the room, with a stool and a table on it. They also hang a chalkboard by the table, which will be used by the Marker to record errors. They rib David as they work. He bosses the others as if he were already a Mastersinger, but has earned no laurels from the Masters except kicks and cuffs on the head. David laughs them off, and tells them to arrange the chalkboard so the Marker can reach it easily. The Marker—doesn’t this make Walther nervous? The Marker faithfully records any departure from form, and seven errors disqualify the aspirant. But if the singer succeeds, he will wear the flower garland of the guild! The apprentices dance around the trial stage, scattering in alarm as Pogner and Beckmesser arrive.

  Comment: If David is eager to show off his knowledge, Wagner is right there with him, detailing the minutiae of the art of mastersinging to an excr
uciating degree. David’s list of thirty-six exemplary tones is sadistic overkill. That, of course, is merely one opinion. Some commentators, including Newman, point to this scene as the acme of Wagner’s warm sense of humor, with Walther’s subsequent cry of “Heaven help me! What a lot of tones there are!” being the funniest thing since the world’s first pie fight. You decide.

  Beckmesser is needling Pogner: What use is the mastersong contest if Eva, the prize, still has the right to refuse the winner? Pogner counters that a suitor who cannot command Eva’s affections shouldn’t be wooing her at all. Beckmesser agrees wholeheartedly; he only wants Pogner to put in a good word for him with Eva. Pogner says he will, but Beckmesser isn’t convinced. Walther greets Pogner, who asks the knight what brings him to their guild meeting. Walther boldly states he wishes to be admitted as a Mastersinger. He meant to say something to Herr Pogner about it at dinner the night before, but forgot. Two more of the guild, Nachtigall and Vogelgesang, enter and are introduced. Beckmesser asks Pogner who the young man is. Pogner says he is an aspirant to the guild. Beckmesser mutters to himself. He does not like this young knight. But Pogner has proposed his membership; he must be allowed to try out.

  The rest of the Mastersingers have arrived one by one, with Hans Sachs being the last. Kothner produces a list. All the Masters were called to this trial and guild meeting. Who has arrived? He takes the roll call. Each answers in turn and takes his seat. All are present except Vogel, who is ill. Kothner notes that there is a quorum. Let them elect a new Marker. Pogner says to let that wait; he has important business to propose.

  The next day is Saint John’s Day (June 24), when the Mastersingers leave their religious songs for love songs, and go out into the meadow. There the people can listen to their art with laymen’s ears, and prizes are awarded to the best. Pogner has thought about what prize he can offer, since God has made him rich. Wherever he has traveled in Germany, he has found that burghers like himself have the reputation of caring only for money and nothing for art. To show that this is not the case, and for his own honor and that of his town and way of life, he offers as a prize the hand of his only child and heiress, Eva, to the Mastersinger who wins the contest.

  Comment: Pogner’s address is long and full of the excruciating detail typical of this opera, but it is melodic and a great chance for this bass to sing beautifully. Many are surprised to discover that Wagner put this on the program as a set aria at several concerts he gave to raise enthusiasm for this opera before its premiere.

  The Masters and apprentices praise Pogner. Vogelgesang says he wishes he were single, and Sachs notes that many would gladly give up their wives for a chance. Kothner urges the unmarried men to get to work. Pogner adds that Eva must agree to the match. Kothner questions this, and Beckmesser says they might as well just let her choose a husband, and leave mastersongs out of it altogether, but Pogner protests. Eva can choose her husband, as reason demands, but he must be an award-winning Mastersinger!

  Sachs points out that a girl’s heart and the art of mastersinging do not always burn with the same fire. If Pogner really wanted to honor art, he would let the people decide the winner of the contest. The others, led by Kothner, protest this. What do the people know about the rules of mastersinging? Sachs quiets the fuss. He knows the rules of the art form as well as anybody, but thinks it wise to let the people judge once a year to make sure the life of the form has not been killed by dull habit. Only people who are not familiar with the details of the rules could judge that! Beckmesser notices nervously how the apprentices are delighted by Sachs’s anarchic idea. Sachs says the guild should come down from the clouds and let the people tell them what they like for a change, so that the people and art may thrive together.

  Vogelgesang praises Sachs’s intentions, but the others are opposed. Nachtigall says he holds his tongue when the people speak, and Kothner pronounces running after popular favor to be the disgrace and downfall of art. Pogner suggests Sachs’s idea may be going too far too soon, but will the guild accept the rules for the contest as he has proposed them? They agree, with Sachs saying that the provision of Eva’s consent satisfies him. Kothner calls for any who wish to be enrolled in the contest, and Pogner introduces Walther von Stolzing as a knight of his acquaintance who recently left his castle in the country to come to town and who wishes to be accepted as a Mastersinger. The youth’s nobility concerns some of the stodgy burghers, but Sachs reminds them of their founding principles: lord or peasant may become a Mastersinger. What matters here is art.

  Kothner asks Walther the name of the Master with whom he studied, and Walther names the great medieval Minnesinger Walther von der Vogelweide, whose work he studied from an old book during the long winter nights in his castle. Sachs praises this Master as an excellent teacher, but Beckmesser grumbles that he’s been dead too long to teach the rules. Kothner asks where, then, did Stolzing learn the art of singing? The young man answers that he learned to sing in the meadows, when summer returned. He took what the book had taught him all winter, and heard his voice resound in the splendor of the summer forest. Vogelgesang praises the answers as poetic and artistic, but Beckmesser is having none of it. Naturally, he says, Vogelgesang (“Birdsong”) likes the idea of finches and titmice for teachers! Kothner asks the Masters’ opinion—he thinks the young man is in the wrong place. Sachs clamors to let Walther sing for them.

  Comment: Amidst all this, Walther sings what we might call the first “aria” of the opera, “Am stillen Herd,” describing his study of Vogelweide and his lonely development as a poet and singer. This piece actually reflects the form of the mastersong (verse/verse/aftersong) rather well, and certainly better than the Trial Song Walther is about to sing.

  Some readers will already have met the great lyric poet Walther von der Vogelweide in the Tannhäuser chapter, where he appears as one of the noble singers. Wagner is describing a “trickle-down” artistic process, from the aristocracy in the Middle Ages to the middle class in the time of the guilds and finally to the people, as we’ll see in this opera’s final scene.

  Kothner asks Walther if he’s ready to sing, and Walther answers grandiloquently that he will take what he has learned in books and study, field and forest, and all his noble studies of arms and chivalry and courtly arts, and let it flow into a mastersong for their judgment. Beckmesser is already confused. Can any of them make sense out of this torrent of words? Walther has the choice of a sacred or profane theme—naturally, he chooses love, which Kothner says qualifies as profane. He directs Beckmesser the Marker to his booth and explains his function to Walther. A curtain is pulled across the Marker’s booth, to help the singer concentrate. Kothner takes the large rulebook and reads Walther the rules of the mastersong.

  A mastersong must have two stanzas of equal length, with rhyme at the end of the line, sung to the same melody. After these comes the aftersong, or third stanza, with a separate melody. If no more than four syllables of this song are to be found in any other mastersong, this song may be considered for the contest. He directs Walther to sit in the chair, as is the custom. Walther says he will comply for the sake of his beloved, and sits. From inside the box, unseen, Beckmesser loudly shouts “Begin!”

  Comment: The form of a mastersong, as delineated by Kothner, is the form of this opera as a whole. Each of the first two acts is about the same length, and each ends with an elaborate ensemble. The third act has a long developmental detour, and finally ends in another ensemble, which subsumes the first two while superseding them. Funny, but this arcane little fact seems to appeal most to the sort of pedants this opera purports to caricature.

  “Begin!” sings Walther, taking this phrase as the departure point for his song. So said the spring to the forest, calling it to life in a resounding swell of joyous voice! Walther’s song grows in youthful ardor, somewhat wild and hard to follow, but resonant with passion. However, it is clearly offending the sensibilities of the Marker, whose many loud chalk marks counting the singer’s errors are heard c
oming from the curtained booth. After several chalk marks accompany a single line, Walther becomes agitated and rises from his seat, a major offense against custom. Composing himself, he manages to continue with his second verse.

  “Yet, begin!” he continues. So spoke a voice from his breast when he was still ignorant of love, making his heart pound, his blood swell! How soon the breast answers this call that brings new life! Let the noble song of love now resound!

  Beckmesser parts the curtains of his booth, asking Walther if he is finished yet. There is no more room on the chalkboard to record errors! He shows this to the Masters, who laugh. Walther protests that he is only now reaching the point where his song praises his lady, but Beckmesser tells him to sing elsewhere, since he is finished here. Walther pleads with the other Masters, and Pogner advises the Marker to be calm, but Beckmesser will not back down. This knight has failed, and the Marker does not even know where to begin counting the errors, since the song had no beginning and no clear ending. And talk about obscure meaning (one of the chief errors for a Mastersinger), did the song have any meaning at all? And where was the melody? The Marker counted at least four approved tones within the mess. Several other Masters admit they couldn’t make anything out of the song, some adding it made them a bit nervous, one calling it “ear-splitting noise.” Kothner notes that Walther even jumped up from the singer’s chair!

  Comment: It’s not hard to see Wagner speaking of himself in this scene, whose music was described by critics as either impossible to follow melodically or “ear-splitting noise.” Walther’s Trial Song itself, or what can be heard of it through the ruckus, is all youthful ardor. The “murmur of spring” is represented in the horns and lower strings. The orchestra will recall this in Act II, when Sachs sits under the elder tree and ruminates about love and life.