"Yawning and steaming with roseate light,
My hair was filled
With scent distilled,"--
and much more besides that was far worse. The people muttered to each
other. They could not understand what it was all about. The Masters
stared in perplexity. Finally, as the singer became more and more
confused, and sang a jumble of ridiculous and meaningless words, they
all burst into a loud peal of laughter.
The sound of laughter stung Beckmesser to fury. He stumbled angrily from
the mound and, shaking his fist at Hans Sachs, declared that if the song
was poor, it was not his fault. Hans Sachs was to blame. He had written
it. Then he threw the paper on the platform and, rushing madly through
the crowd, disappeared.
The people were in confusion, the Masters were amazed. They all turned
to Hans Sachs for an explanation. He picked up the paper, smoothed it
out, handed it to the Masters, and said:
"No, the song is not mine. I could not hope to compose anything so
beautiful."
Beautiful? The Masters were incredulous. Hans Sachs must be joking. But
he went on.
"Yes, beautiful. Master Beckmesser has sung it incorrectly. The one who
wrote it could render it in a manner that would prove its beauty beyond
a doubt." Raising his voice, he called:
"Let the one who can sing the song step forward."
And to the great surprise of all, Sir Walter von Stolzing, clad in
glittering knightly apparel, came from the crowd. He bowed courteously
to the Masters, and won the hearts of all by his noble looks and his
manly bearing. He stepped lightly upon the mound, mused a moment, and
then began his song of the dream. And, as before, the words, the music,
gushed forth from his full heart. He put all his love, all his yearning,
into the melody he sang. His voice swelled upward like the rising tide.
And when it reached the full, the rapture of it touched the hearts of
all who listened. The song was finished. A hush fell upon the Masters
and people alike. But only for a moment; soon a glad shout arose:
"Master Singer! Master Singer!"
And Sir Walter von Stolzing knew that the victory was his.
They led him to the fair Eva and placed her hand in his. While the
people waved and sang, she placed a wreath of laurel upon his head. It
was his beautiful dream coming true. Then the Masters hung a chain of
gold around his neck, which showed that he was a member of the guild.
Sir Walter thought of the treatment that he had received the day before
at the trial meeting, and he was about to refuse. But Hans Sachs arose
and spoke gravely of the reverence due to the Art of Song. And Walter
forgot his bitterness, and thought only of his love and future happiness
with Eva by his side.
And so with the people singing,
"Hail, all hail
Nuremberg's beloved Hans Sachs,"
Midsummer Day and the Song Festival came to an end.
[Illustration]