Operas Every Child Should Know

"Friends, since I am beloved of thee, I have one favour to ask. The prize this day is to be a unique one, and I ask that the contest be open. It is no more than fair, since so much is to be won. I ask that no one who shall ask for a chance to sing for this fair prize be denied. Shall this be so?"

While he waited for an answer, every one was in commotion.

"Say, Marker," he asked of Beckmesser, "is this not as it should be?"

That rascal was wiping his face from which the sweat was streaming and trying in despair to conquer the knight's song.

"You know you need not sing that song unless you wish," Hans reminded him, aside.

"My own is abandoned, and now it is too late for me to make another," Beckmesser moaned; "but with you out of the contest – well, I shall surely win with anything. You must not desert me now."

"Well, let it be agreed," Hans cried aloud, "that the contest shall be open to all; so now begin."

"The oldest first," Kothner cried, thus calling attention to the age of Beckmesser. "Begin, Beckmesser," another shouted.

"Oh, the devil," Beckmesser moaned, trying to peep again at the song which he had not been able to learn. He desperately ascended the mound which was reserved for the singers, escorted by an apprentice. He stumbled and nearly fell, so excited was he, and so frightened at his plight, for he did not know the song, and he had none of his own. Altogether he was in a bad way – but he was yet to be in a worse!

"Come and make this mound more firm," he snarled, nearly falling down. At that everybody laughed. Finally he placed himself, and all waited for him to begin. This is how he sang the words of the first stanza:

Bathing in sunlight at dawning of the day,
With bosom bare,
To greet the air;
My beauty steaming,
Faster dreaming,
A garden roundelay wearied my way.

Only compare this with the words of the song as Walther sang them! The music matched the words for absurdity.

"Good gracious! He's lost his senses," one Mastersinger said to another. Beckmesser, realizing that he was not getting the song right, became more and more confused. He felt the amazement of the people, and that made him desperate. At last, half crazed with rage and shame, he pulled the song from his pocket and peeped at it. Then he tried again, but turned giddy, and at last tottered down from the mound, while people began to jeer at him. Hans Sachs might have been sorry for the wretch, had he not known how dishonest he had been, willing to use another's song that he might gain the prize.

Beckmesser rushed furiously toward Sachs and shook his fist at him:

"Oh, ye accursed cobbler! Ye have ruined me," he screamed, and rushing madly away he lost himself in the crowd. In his rage, he had screamed that the song was Sachs's, but nobody would believe him, because, as Beckmesser had sung it, it had sounded so absurd.

Sachs took the manuscript quietly up, after Beckmesser had thrown it down.

"The song is not mine," he declared. "But I vow it is a most lovely song, and that it has been sung wrong. I have been accused of making this, and now I deny it. I beg of the one who wrote it to come forth now and sing it as it should be sung. It is the song of a great master, believe me, friends and Mastersingers. Poet, come forth, I pray you," he called, and then Walther stepped to the mound, modestly. Every one beheld him with pleasure. He was indeed a fine and gallant-looking fellow.

"Now, Masters, hold the song; and since I swear that I did not write it, but know the one who did – let my words be proved. Stand, Sir Knight, and prove my truth." Then Kothner took the manuscript that the Mastersingers might follow the singing and know if the knight was honest; and Walther, standing in the singers' place, began the song a little fearfully.

The Masters following him recognized the truth of all that Hans Sachs had spoken, and presently dropped the paper in amazement. They became lost in listening to the music, which swelled higher and higher, growing more and more beautiful with every measure, till all the people of Nuremberg sat spellbound. At last:

"His prize, his prize!" they shouted; and Pogner came to him weeping with joy.

"It is thy doing," Walther said tremblingly to Hans; and then he was conducted to where Eva awaited him. He stooped and she placed the victor's wreath upon his head. But that was not the end. The Mastersingers turned to Pogner:

"Herr Pogner, it is thy right to crown the knight who has won this prize," and with that Pogner hung a golden chain about Walther's neck, from which was suspended three medals. Walther would have refused it.

"I have a dearer prize than this, my friends," he cried, looking at Eva.

"Nay, take thy chain, too," Sachs urged him, smiling. "That shall be the sign of the Mastersingers' approval." Walther bowed his head and received the chain, while the people stood up and shouted.

Thus in one day, the knight, Walther von Stolzing, became a bridegroom and a Mastersinger.

LOHENGRIN

CHARACTERS OF THE OPERA

Lohengrin, Knight of the Holy Grail.

Henry I, King of Germany.

Frederick of Telramund, a noble of Brabant.

The Royal Herald.

Gottfried, Elsa's brother, and mute.

Four nobles of Brabant.

Elsa von Brabant.

Ortrud, wife of Telramund.

Four pages.

Saxons, nobles of Brabant, ladies, and pages.

The story is laid in Antwerp, during the first half of the tenth century.

First production at Weimar, Germany, August 28, 1850.

Composer: Richard Wagner.

ACT I

On a meadow on the banks on the river Scheldt, King Henry and his Saxon nobles were one day assembled in their hall of justice, which in those times was beneath a broad-spreading oak. From another petty German political division had come Frederick of Telramund, with his wife Ortrud. In turn they were surrounded by their own retainers from their province, but all were assembled at King Henry's call to rally in defence of the Kingdom.

When all were awaiting Henry's will, his Herald stepped forth and blew a blast upon his trumpet.

"Hark! Princes, Nobles, Freemen of Brabant! Our sovereign has called ye all to rally to his defence. May he count upon the loyalty of all?"

At once, the nobles took up the cry, and welcomed their sovereign to the country. Then King Henry thanked them for their good will and made the following announcement:

"Nobles, Freemen, all! I come not only to receive this welcome, but to tell ye that Germany is in danger of invasion from the Hungarian hordes; and that upon our frontiers there are German wives and children praying for our protecting arms. As the nation's guardian it is fitting that I make an end of this misrule which has left us threatened again and again by this lawless people. As ye will recall, I made a nine years' truce with our enemies, when they last tormented us; and now the time is past, they demand a tribute which, for the sake of our people, I have refused them. It is time for us to up and arm against them, and once for all defeat them."

Henry spoke earnestly, with evident devotion to his subjects, and both Saxons and Brabantians responded, but the men of Brabant looked to their immediate Lord, Frederick of Telramund, for assent. He hesitated a moment, and then stepped before the King.

"Great King," he said, "thou art here to judge, to listen to the differences of thy people, to make wrong right, so far as in thee lies, and on my part I will not stoop to falsehood. I have a grievance. Thou knowest when death took away our beloved Duke, his children, Elsa and Gottfried, were left in my charge. I became their guardian. I treasured them and guarded their interests valiantly; but one day, the two wandered forth into the forest. In time Elsa, the elder, returned, trembling and seemingly full of fear. She was alone, and when questioned about the safety of her young brother could tell us nothing. We sought for him, but never found him. She pretended to be in great distress, but her manner betrayed her guilt; of that I am certain. There were but they two, alone, and yet she could give us no intelligent story of his disappearance. A horror of the young girl fell upon me. I could not bear her in my sight, because I felt she was responsible for her young brother's death. Her hand had been offered me in marriage by her father, but feeling that she was guilty, I gave her up. I could not have married one who, in my mind, was so wicked. Therefore I have chosen another wife, Ortrud of Radbod." As he spoke, he brought his wife before the King and she made an obeisance.