When to thee our Saviour came
To be baptised in God's holy name
He chose to be the sacrifice
Who gave us the path to salvation
Thus we dedicate ourselves
To be worthy in your sight
Noble baptist,
Prophet of Christ,
Receive us in grace
On the banks of the Jordan!
Stay! Just one word
My shawl, I must have left it
How forgetful! I'll go.
Young lady, might I be so bold?
To ask you, to find out, how could I not be bold?
Life or death, blessing or curse
Just one word, tell me, young lady...
Here's the shawl
- But where's the brooch? - Lost as well?
Happy day or darkest night?
Will I hear what I desire? Will it be hope or despair?
Young lady, tell me...
I've found the brooch
Come, now you have everything 0 dear! Now I've forgotten my book
Will you not say the word and pronounce sentence on me?
Yes or no, the briefest whisper... Are you already betrothed?
Dear Sir, we are honoured
It was kind of you to stand escort for Eva
May I inform Master Pogner that you will visit him?
I wish I'd never set foot there
Sir, what are you saying?
Having just arrived in Nuremberg, did you not find hospitality?
Does not what kitchen cellar offered you deserve more gratitude?
Lena, you misunderstand He wants an answer from me
To something I've barely had time to grasp
It's as though I'm in a dream
- He's asked whether I'm already betrothed - Good Lord!
Not so loud!
We must go home What would people think?
Not until I have an answer
- Everyone's gone now - That's what bothers me
Sir, some other place
- No, first this word! - This word!
David! You, here?
What shall I say? You tell me!
Sir, your question to the maiden Can't be answered so easily
Eva Pogner is indeed betrothed
Though no-one's seen the bridegroom yet!
The bridegroom won't be named
Until the judges grant the prize to the winning mastersinger tomorrow
And when the bride herself gives him the award
The mastersinger?
Are you not one?
- A song contest? - Before the Guild
Who wins the prize?
Who the masters approve
The bride chooses?
You, or no-one!
Eva, are you out of your mind?
Lena, help me win my knight!
It was only yesterday you first saw him
I suffered for not seeing him sooner But I'd already seen his portrait
Don't you think he looks like David?
- Are you mad? Like David? - Like David in the painting
The grey-beard king on the coat-of-arms?
No, the one who killed Goliath with sling and sword
His fair hair bathed in light
As in Master DiJrer's painting
David! David!
Who's calling?
David, if you knew the trouble you've caused
The dear rascal, does he still not know?
Now look, he's locked us in
- Locked in my heart alone! - How sweet
Say, what's your game?
No game
It's a serious matter
Setting up the masters' circle
Is there a singing class?
Just a trial today
The apprentice will be a made-man Who doesn't break the rules of the Tabulatur
Only those who pass this trial can become a master
The young noble has come to the right place Come, Eva, we must go
Allow me to accompany you to Master Pogner's
Patience, he'll be here soon
Eva's hand will be yours when the time and place are right
- Now we really must go - What must I do?
David will guide you through the rules
David, my sweet friend
Look after this knight for me
There'll be something from the kitchen for you
And you can make bolder demands tomorrow If he becomes a master today
- Will I see you again? - This evening! Nothing will stop me
What I will dare? How can I say?
New is my heart, new my mind New is everything I undertake
One thing I know One thing I understand
To win you With all my senses
If not by the sword I will succeed
I'll make you mine with a master's voice
For you my possessions and rank
- My heart, blessed glow - For you the poet's sacred resolve
- For you love's holy protection - Quick, home, or it will not go well
Master so soon? Good luck
David! Don't just stand there
Get on with it!
Help us set up the marker's box
I always do too much for you
Manage on your own I've other things to do
Who does he think he is, the teacher's pet?
It's because his master is a cobbler
He sits at the shoemaker's last, quill in hand
Weaving poetry with twine and awl
Carving his verses on raw leather
Tanned by our good selves!
Begin!
What do you mean?
Begin!
That's the marker's call
For you to sing
Don't you know that?
Who is the marker?
Don't you know? Have you never been to a song contest?
Not where the judges were craftsmen
Are you a poet?
If only I was
Are you a singer?
How would I know?
But surely you've been a school friend and a scholar?
This all sounds strange to me
Yet you want to become a master right away?
Why is that so difficult?
O Lena! Lena!
- How you carry on - O Magdalena!
Advise me well!
Sir, the mastersinger's touch
Cannot be gained in a day
In Nuremberg, the greatest mastersinger, Hans Sachs, teaches me his art
He's taught me for a full year already, tutoring me as a scholar
I learn shoemaking and poetry together
Once the leather is beaten smooth I learn vowels and consonants
Once the thread is waxed into twine I'll learn from Sachs the art of good rhyme
Swinging the bodkin, stitching with the awl
What's meant by blunt and ringing, by measure and number
The last is my apron What is long, what short
What hard, what soft Bright or blind
What are orphans and mites What are affixes
What pauses, what corns What flowers, what thorns
All this I've learned with care
But how far do you think I've got?
As far as a good pair of shoes?
Yes, it takes time enough to get that far!
A song has several sections and strophes Who might at once find the correct rule
The right seam And the correct thread
With well-fitted stanzas To sole the song properly
And then there's the after song
Neither too short nor too long
And containing no rhyme
Which has already appeared in the stanza
But all this knowledge alone
Still doesn't make you a master
God help me! Do I want to be a cobbler?
Just teach me the art of singing
If only I'd reached the level of singer myself
But that's such hard graft
The masters' tones and melodies
So many in name and number
The strong and the soft
Who could know them all?
Short, long, and extended tunes
called "Manuscript" or "Black Ink"
"Red", "Blue" and "Green" melodies
"Hawthorn", "Straw" and "Fennel"
"Tender", "Sweet" and "Rose"
"Brief Love", "Forgotten Melody"
"Rosemary", "The Wall Flower"
"Rainbow", "Nightingale"
"English Pewter", "Cinnamon"
"Fresh Orange", "Lime Blossom"
"The Frog", "The Calf", "The Goldfinch"
"The Deceased Glutton"
"The Lark", "The Snail", "The Barker"
"The Mint", "The Marjoram"
"Golden Lion", "Faithful Pelican"
"Bright Gleaming Thread"...
Heaven help us, how many more?
They're just the names
Now you must learn to sing them
According to the master's rules
Each word and melody must be clear
Within the range of the voice
Start neither higher nor lower
Than the voice can reach
Spare your breath, lest it run out
And you even crack at the end
Don't hum with your voice before the word
And after the word don't let your mouth rumble
No changes to ornamentation or coloratura
Embellish only within the masters' guidelines
If you confused them you'd go astray
Lose your place and get into a muddle
Even if everything else had gone your way
You would have sung your chance away
Application and enthusiasm Haven't got me very far yet
Whenever I don't make the grade
Sachs gives me a taste of the "Strap" tune
If Miss Lena can't help
It's the "stale-bread-and-water" song for me
So learn by example
Have no delusions of being a master
You must be both singer and poet
Before becoming a master
- David! - What is a poet?
David! Are you coming?
Wait, I'm coming!
A poet, you ask?
When you have become a Singer
And sung the tones correctly
And have yourself added rhymes and words
And fitted them correctly
To a master's tone
- Then you might carry off the poet's prize - Here!
David! Shall we tell the master?
Or will you finally stop talking?
Go ahead! If I don't help you Everything will be set up wrongly!
Just one more question Who gets to be called master?
Well, let me tell you, Sir
Only the poet who of his own endeavour
To words and rhymes of his own invention
Composes a new melody of his own
Can be judged a mastersinger
Then the master's prize will be mine!
If I must sing I can only succeed
If I find the right tone for the verse
What are you doing?
See, without me you've set it up all wrong
- You think it's song school today? - Yes!
Just so you know
The small box!
It's merely a trial
You have to admit David is the cleverest
Set to win the highest honours
At the trial today
He's sure to take part
He already prides himself as a fine singer!
He's got the "Blow" rhymes note-perfect
And sings the "Poor and Hungry" melody very well!
But he's most familiar with
Sach's "Hard Kick" tune
You may laugh, but it's not me today
Someone else is singing to the jury
Neither scholar nor singer
And skipping the poet grade
A young nobleman aspires to leap
Straight to master level Without any problems
So set up the booth properly for him
There!
Over here!
Position the slate
So that it's nice and ready for the marker
Yes, the marker! Getting nervous?
He's heard many candidates fail
He allows you seven faults Which he chalks up there
Any more than seven And you've sung your chance away!
Be on your guard The marker misses nothing
Good luck for the mastersinging! There are prizes to be won
But will the silken garland Go to our noble knight?
Believe me, I have your best interests at heart
Your success in the contest is assured As a master, who could challenge you?
But will you not concede the point Which, for me, casts such doubt?
If Eva can refuse the suitor
What use is my master's expertise?
But say, of all things Should you worry about that?
If you cannot command my daughter's wishes How could you be wooing her at all?
Indeed! That's why I'm asking you To speak to the child on my behalf
How tenderly and modestly I've wooed And how Beckmesser is your choice
Gladly
He won't budge
What's to be done?
- Permit me, Master - Why, Sir knight?
Here at the song school?
If only women could see through the braggart
In favour of the poet
This is the right place for me I freely admit, what drove me
To Nuremberg from the country Was my love of art
I forgot to tell you yesterday But today I declare it loudly
I wish to be a mastersinger Admit me to your guild, Master
Kunz Vogelgesangl Friend Nachtigalll Listen, what an unusual thing
My noble friend here Wants to embrace the master's art
I'll try to avert it But if he won't budge
I'll just have to win her heart by singing
At night, for her ears alone I'll learn if she succumbs to my serenade
Who's this?
You bring me such joy The olden days have returned
- I don't like him. What does he want? - What you desire, if I can help
- His smiling features! - Be granted to you
As I helped sell your property...
Hello, Sixtus!
...I'll gladly admit you to our Guild
- Watch this one! - I thank you with all my heart
Does this mean I can hope today
To compete for the prize And become a mastersinger?
Steady on!
- Don't run before you can walk! - Noble Sir, you must abide by the rules
But I'll put you forward for today's trial I'm sure the masters will be supportive
Greetings, Masters!
Are we all here?
Sachs is here, all right!
Then call the register
To a trial and a guild meeting The masters have been invited
By their names To see if all are present
I shall now call them as the newest member I name myself as Fritz Kothner
Are you here, Veit Pogner?
Here at hand
Kunz Vogelgesang?
Has arrived
Hermann Ortel?
Always in his place
Balthasar Zorn?
Never absent
Konrad Nachtigall?
True to his call
Augustin Moser?
Never likes to be missing
Niklaus Vogel? No response?
He's sick!
A speedy recovery
God will it!
Thank you!
- Hans Sachs? - There he is!
Do you want a good tanning? Excuse me, Masters! Sachs is present
Sixtus Beckmesser?
Always by Sachs
To learn the rhymes to "bloom" and "wax"
Ulrich Eisslinger?
Here!
- Hans Foltz? - I'm here
- Hans Schwarz? - The last, God willing!
I declare the assembly full and well met
Shall we proceed to elect the marker?
Maybe after the festival?
Is the gentleman in a hurry? I'd gladly defer to him
No, Masters, let's defer this for now
I ask leave to speak of an important proposal
Granted, Master, speak!
Now listen to my words
That beautiful festival, Midsummer's Day We celebrate tomorrow
On the green meadow, by the flowery grove With games and dancing
Secure in a joyous heart All cares forgotten
We will be joyous as is our wont
Their solemn song school in the church The masters will give up
With merry music out the gate On to the open meadow they proceed
In the din of the brilliant festival They let the people listen
To the singing with their laymen's ears
Trials and contests are held in song With prizes for the victor
Both are praised far and wide The gift as well as the melody
Now, God has made me a rich man And everyone gives what he can
So I had to think carefully Which prize to give
Not to come into dishonour Hear then my decision
Widely travelled in German lands It has often vexed me
That people don't honour the burghers Call them mean and selfish
At courts and lower places I grew tired of the bitter reproach
That the burghers' sole interest Was usury and money
But that we alone in the German empire Still cherish art
By that they set little store
Yet how this may increase our honour And that with high resolve
We treasure what is beautiful and good
The value of art, what it is worth This I was resolved to show the world
To that end, Masters, hear my pledge What I have decreed as prize
To the singer who in the art-singing Before all the people wins the prize
On Midsummer's Day Be he who he may
To him, as a friend of art I, Nuremberg's Veit Pogner, offer
With all the goods I hold
Eva, my only child, in marriage
That's what I call a pledge Spoken like a true Nuremberger!
You'll be praised to the skies for this The people's hero, Veit Pogner!
At all times, far and wide!
Many would gladly forsake their wives!
Arise, single men Now, get to work!
But hear my earnest intent
This gift is my life and blood Eva will sit with the judges
The prize is awarded by the master's guild But in matters of matrimony, reason demands
That the final decision is with the bride
Is that wise?
So, we remain subject to her casting vote?
This courts danger!
If she disagrees, how do we have any free choice?
She may just as well follow her heart
without any mastersong!
Not so! Understand me correctly!
The man to whom you masters award the prize
The maid can refuse But she forfeits her choice of any other
It must be a mastersinger She can only take a man crowned by you
Forgive me, this may be a step too far
A girl's heart and our masters' art May not be matched in ardour
An innocent woman's choice would reflect Just as truly that of the people
If you want to show to the people How highly you value art
And let the girl choose for herself But do not want her to oppose the verdict
Then let the people also judge They're sure to agree with the girl
The people? There's a fine thing! Goodbye to art and mastersong!
No, Sachs, that makes no sense Would you hand over the rules to the people?
Listen well and stop fussing!
You'll admit I know the rules as well
And to see that the guild preserves them
I have busied myself for many years
But once a year I'd find it wise To test the rules themselves
To ensure that through dull force of habit Their life and strength doesn't get lost
Whether you are still On the right track of nature
Can only be told by someone Who knows nothing of the Tabulatur
Ha, how the boys rejoice!
Therefore you won't regret
If each year on Midsummer's Day Instead of letting the people come to you
From your high masters' clouds You yourselves should turn to the people
You want to please the people I should have thought it in your interest
To let them tell you themselves If they are pleased
Art and people can bloom and thrive
Do it this way, say I, Hans Sachs!
Your intentions are good
But it's all wrong-headed
When the people speak, I shut up
Our art will be blighted If we seek common favour
A blight on him who speaks so bold This songster of the streets
Friend Sachs, my intent is itself new
Too much at once might bring repentance
So I ask if the masters accept
The gift and rules as I have stated?
As long as the girl has the casting vote
That cobbler always vexes me!
Who will enter his name as competitor? He must be a bachelor
What about widowers? Just ask Sachs!
Not so, Mr Marker! Of younger wax
Than you and me the suitor must be For Eva to award the prize to him
Younger than me too? How rude!
Now step forward anyone
Who wishes to enter the trial song
Yes, Masters, returning to the agenda
Hear me report that I Following a master's duty
Recommend a young knight Who seeks to be elected
And this day become a mastersinger
My noble Stolzing, step forward!
Just as I thought So that's your game, Veit?
Masters, surely it's getting too late
This is something new, a knight?
Should we be glad, or is there a danger?
In any case it carries much weight
That Master Pogner speaks for him
If we are to welcome the knight He must first be heard
So listen well, I wish him luck
But I'm not one to disregard the rules
Masters, put your questions!
So let the knight tell us
If he is free and honourably born
No need to ask further
For I myself can vouch for his noble birth
Von Stolzing, Walther, from Franconia I know him well by letters and repute
As the last descendant He recently left his family home and estate
Moving to Nuremberg In the hope of becoming a burgher here
This upstart noble stripling is no good
Friend Pogner's word is enough
The masters decided long ago That lineage was irrelevant
Art and the desire to be a mastersinger Are all that matter here
Therefore I now ask Whose master's pupil are you?
Reading quietly by the hearth One snowbound Winter's day
I mused upon The renewal of the joys of Spring
Inspiration came From an old favourite family book
It was by Walther von der Vogelweide My master ever since
A good master!
But long since dead How could he learn from him?
But in which school Were you taught how to sing?
When the meadow was free from frost And summertime returned
What previously in long winter nights The old book had told me
Resounded loudly in the splendid forest I heard it ring out brightly
The forest and the countryside They taught me how to sing
Oh! From tits and finches You learnt the master's melodies?
What an inspiration
He's created two good stanzas already
You praise him, Master Vogelgesang Because he studied birdsong?
Masters, should we continue? The nobleman seems in the wrong place
That will soon become clear If he has true art
And is a good guardian of it What does it matter who taught him?
Are you ready to show us If you succeeded in creating a mastersong
Set to your own words and melody Now at this very moment?
What winter night What forest splendour
What book and grove taught me
What the wondrous power of the poet's song
Secretly tried to disclose to me
What the trot of a soldier's horse
And the stamp of a festive dance
Thoughtfully made me listen to
If I must sing my own song To win life's highest prize
My own words and melody will unite And flow from within
As a mastersong, if I grasp it right For your approval and delight
Do you understand this gabble?
Oh well, he tries!
A curious case!
Now Masters
If you please
Prepare the marker's box
Does the nobleman choose a sacred theme?
Something sacred to me: Love's banner
I shall wave, and sing in high hopes
We call that worldly
Therefore proceed Master Beckmesser, to take your place
A bitter task, and especially today
He'll succumb to a surfeit of chalk
Sir knight, know well Sixtus Beckmesser is your marker
Here in my box My strictness demands silence
Seven faults are permitted
And marked up there in chalk
If he incurs more than seven faults
The nobleman has sung his chance away
I'll be listening carefully But so as not to inhibit you
As might happen if you saw me I'll leave you in peace
And will be hidden here out of sight May God be with you
Hear now how to fashion your song According to the Tabulatur
Each unit of a mastersong Must present a proper balance
Of its different sections Against which no one shall offend
A section consist of two stanzas Which must have the same melody
The stanza is a group of so many lines The line has its rhyme at the end
Then follows an after song Also to be so many lines long
With its own special melody Which is not to occur in the stanza
Each mastersong must have Several units in this ratio
And whoever composes a new song Which does not for more than four syllables
Encroach on other master's melodies His song may win a master's prize!
Be seated in the singer's chair
Here, in this chair?
It's the school custom
This is all for you, my love
The singer sits
Begin!
So rant the echo of spring Loudly through the forest
And as in more distant waves The sound speeds away
From farther off comes a swelling Which powerfully draws nearer
It swells and resounds The forest rings
With a myriad of lovely voices
Now loud and bright And near at hand
How the sound grows Like the clanging of bells
The throng of jubilation rings out!
The forest How soon
It answers to the call Which brought new life to it
With its own sweet song of spring
In a thorny hedge Consumed by jealousy and grief
Winter, grimly armed Had to hide himself away
Dry leaves rustling about him He lies in waiting
Planning to harm This joyful singing
But: begin! Was the call in my breast
When I was still ignorant of love
I felt it rising deep within me As if waking me from a dream
My heart with pounding beats Filled my whole bosom
My blood is boiling All-powerfully
Stirred up by this new feeling
From a warm night With superior strength
This host of sighs Swells to a sea
In a wild tumult of bliss
The Breast How soon
It answers the call Which brought it new life
Fired by The sublime song of love!
- Are you done? - Why do you ask?
There's no more room on the slate
But I'm just coming to the melody In praise of my lady
Sing wherever, you have failed here Masters, look at the slate
I've never heard anything like it
I shouldn't believe it Even if you all swear to it
You allow him to interrupt me, Masters?
Am I to remain unheard by all?
A word, Mr Marker! You are angry
Let him be marker who coverts it!
But that the knight has sung his chance away I'll first show before the masters' assembly
I'll have my work cut out No start nor finish, where do I begin?
Of false number and false grouping I'll make absolutely no mention
Too short, too long, how to find an end? Who would seriously call this a unit?
But my only criticism is "obscure meaning"
Have you ever heard such nonsense?
Hard to make head or tail of, I must admit Difficult to see how it might end
And the melody, all a mad jumble
of "Adventure" and "Blue Larkspur" tunes
"High Fir-Tree" and "Proud Youth" tones!
Yes, it all went above my head
No pause, no coloratura and not a trace of melody!
Call that singing?
Made me queasy!
- Thought my eardrums would burst - Empty racket!
Didn't even stay seated!
Will you press for proof of his faults Or just declare he's sung his chance away?
Wait a moment, Masters!
Not everyone shares your view
His song sounded new But not confused
Some guidelines were broken But he remained firm and true
If you want to measure by the rules something which does not conform to them
Forget your own ways And first consider its own rules
Aha! That's right! Now you hear it Sachs is opening a loop-hole for bunglers
To come and go as they please And easily wreck everything
Proclaim it to the people in song Acceptance here is only by the rules
Mr Marker, why such fervour? Why so little calm?
Your judgement would be more mature If you listened more carefully
I'll conclude by asking That the nobleman be heard to the end
So, beside Sachs, the guild And the entire school count for nothing!
God forbid that I'm asking For the rules to be broken
However, they do clearly state "The marker shall be so disposed
That neither hatred nor love Obscure the judgement which he gives"
So, if he's going wooing Why should he not satisfy his desire
To disgrace a rival in the chair Before the whole school?
You go too far!
- Too personal! - Stop this discord, Masters!
Why should Herr Sachs be concerned Where or how I'm going?
He would do better To ensure nothing pinches my toes
But since he prefers to be a poet The future looks bleak for my footwear
Look how sloppy they are Flapping all over the place
All his verses and rhymes I'd gladly have him leave at home
Histories, plays, and farces too If he'd bring me my new shoes tomorrow
You do right to remind me But is it fitting, Masters, tell me
That, if I make a little verse For even the donkey-drover's soles
Should I not do the same For our highly learned town clerk?
The little verse, worthy of you I with all my humble poetic gifts
Have not yet found But it will surely come to me now
When I've heard the knight's song So let him sing on undisturbed
No more! An end!
An end! Enough!
Sing now and defy Mr Marker!
What more should we hear? Unless it were to delude you?
From a dark thorny hedge The owl speeds forth
Each mistake, great and small
Awaking all around with its screeching The hoarse chorus of ravens
- In vast nocturnal horde - False grouping!
- How they all begin to croak - Unspeakable words!
- With their hollow voices - Affixes!
- Magpies, crows and jackdaws! - Here vices even!
- There rises on a pair of golden wings - Ha, what spirit!
- A wondrous bird - What glow of inspiration!
Its dazzling bright plumage Shines light in the breeze
Blissfully hovering now and again It beckons me to fly and flee
My heart swells With sweet pain
In my need wings sprout
It soars In bold progress
To fly through the air Up from the tombs of cities
To its native hill
To the green meadow Where Master Walther once set me free
There I sing bright and clear In honour of my dearest lady
Upwards then climbs Though master-crows don't wish it well
- Sachs has chosen him for his own! - The proud love song!
It's really vexatious!
The flowery garland of fine silks Will it be granted to the knight?
- Farewell, you masters here below! - Vote and raise your hands!
Completely sung away his chance!
Come!
Midsummer's Day! Midsummer's Day!
As many flowers and ribbons as you like
The little flowery garland of fine silks May it soon be granted to me!
David!
You again? Go sing your silly songs alone!
David, what's the matter? If you weren't so proud
You'd look more carefully If you weren't so silly!
Midsummer's Day! Midsummer's Day!
He's even ignoring fair Lena!
David! Listen! Look at me!
Ah, Lena, you're here?
I've a treat for you, look inside Something for my sweetheart
But first, tell me how the knight got on
Did your advice win him the trial?
Ah, Lena, it's a sorry tale
- He has completely sung away his chance - Sung away? Completely?
Why such concern?
Hand off! No treats for you!
God help us, our young noble failed!
Hail to the young man on his marriage!
What a successful courtship
We all heard and saw it too
She who has his heart
She for whom he would give his life Hasn't given him the basket!
Have you no work to do? Shut up this instant!
Midsummer's Day! Midsummer's Day! Every man woos as he wishes
The master woos The apprentice woos
It's all slap and tickle
The old man and the young girl
The apprentice and the old maid
Hurrah! Hurrah! Midsummer's Day!
What's going on? Fighting again?
Not me, they're singing rude songs!
Don't listen, learn better than them Time for bed, go in and light the lamp
Do I have a singing lesson?
No singing for you As punishment for your levity earlier
Put the new shoes on the last for me!
Let's see if Master Sachs is home
I'd like a word with him, shall I go in?
I think he's home, there is alight
Shall I? What for?
Better not!
But if nothing's ventured What is there to gain?
He was the one who thought I went too far
And if I left the beaten track I was only following his example
Although perhaps with a touch of vanity?
And you, my child, nothing to say?
An obedient child speaks only when asked
So wise, so good
Come, sit down here With me on the bench for a while
Won't it be too cool? It was quite close today
No, no, it's mild and pleasant A delightful balmy evening
This suggests that tomorrow Will be the most beautiful day
0 child, don't your heartbeat tell you What happiness awaits you tomorrow
When all of Nuremberg Burghers and commoners
Guilds, people, and high council Shall assemble before you
That you may award the prize That noble garland
To your groom, the master of your choice?
Dear father, must it be a master?
Listen carefully: a master of your choice
Yes, of my choice
Let's go in now, I'm coming, Lena It's time for supper
But there's no guest?
- The nobleman, I thought? - Why?
Haven't you seen him today?
I wasn't best pleased with him
But no... What is it?
Ah, am I growing dim?
Come, dear papa, go and change
Hm, what's going round in my head?
- What does he say? - Not a word
David reckons he failed
The knight? God help me, what am I to do?
Ah, Lena, what anguish! How can we find out?
From Sachs maybe?
Ah, yes, he's fond of me
- I'll go and ask him - Don't give anything away
Your father would notice if you stayed out
After supper Then I shall have more to say
Which someone has secretly told me
- Who, the nobleman? - Certainly not!
Beckmesser!
I can hardly wait
Show me It looks good
Move my bench and stool over to the door
Go to bed, rise early
Sleep off stupidity, be sharp tomorrow
- Will you carry on working? - What's it to you?
What's wrong with Lena? Heaven knows!
Why is my Master staying up?
- Still here? - Sleep well, Master
Good night
So mild, so strong and full Is the scent of the elder tree
It relaxes my limbs It makes me want to say something
But what can I meaningfully say? I'm just a poor, simple man
If work is not to my taste You might, friend, rather release me
I would do better to stretch leather And give up all poetry
But this feeling won't let me go
I sense it without understanding
Beyond reach, yet always there
Even if grasped, there's no way to measure it
But then, how should I grasp
What seemed to me immeasurable?
The song was unruly
And yet was without fault
It sounded so old, and yet was so new
Like birdsong in lovely May
Who heard it And, carried away by madness
Imitated its song Would earn derision and disgrace
Spring's command Sweet necessity
Placed it in his breast
He sang as he had to
And as he had to, so he could
It was a thing of wonder
The bird that sang today Had a finely-formed beak
The masters may have been uneasy But he certainly pleased Hans Sachs!
Good evening, Master Still hard at work?
Ah, child, dear Eva, up so late?
And yet, I know why so late:
The new shoes
Not at all
I have not yet even tried the shoes yet They are so beautiful and richly adorned
That I have not yet dared to put them on my feet
But you will wear them as tomorrow's bride-to-be?
So who's to be the bridegroom?
- Who can tell? - How do you know I'll be a bride?
The whole town knows
Well, if the whole town knows Then friend Sachs is well informed
I thought he might know more
What should I know?
Well, think! Do I have to spell it out?
I must be quite stupid?
I'm not saying that
- Then you are shrewd? - Who knows?
You know nothing? You say nothing? Sachs, my friend
I realise now That pitch is not wax
I would have thought you sharper
Child, both wax and pitch are familiar to me
With wax I coated the silken threads
With which I made your pretty shoes
Today I'm making shoes with thicker yarn
And pitch is required for a rougher customer
Who is that? Someone important?
Indeed! For a proud master going courting
Intent on winning tomorrow Mr Beckmesser's shoes must be finished
Use plenty of pitch so that He sticks to them and leaves me alone!
He clearly hopes to win you by his singing
Why him?
A bachelor There are few of them about here
Might not a widower be successful?
He's too old for you, my child
Why too old? Art is what matters here And a suitor who's sensitive to it
Dear Eva, are you teasing me?
Not I, it's you who's making excuses
Admit that you are fickle
God knows who's held in your heart
I thought it was me for many a year
Because I loved carrying you in my arms?
So it was only because you were childless
I once had wife and children enough
But your wife died and I've grown tall
Tall indeed, and beautiful
So I was thinking You might take me in as wife and child?
Then I'd have a child and wife too
What a pleasant way of life
Yes, you've thought it through so well
Are you ridiculing me?
Then maybe you wouldn't mind If under your nose and in the sight of all
Beckmesser won me tomorrow with his song?
Who's to prevent him, if he wins? Only your father can answer that
Where does a master keep his brains? Would I be here if the answer lies at home?
Yes, you're right My head is spinning
With all today's worry and confusion I can't concentrate properly
The singing school, no doubt Did it meet today?
Yes, child, a song trial has disturbed me
Well, Sachs, you should have said so at once
I wouldn't have bothered you with questions
Say, who was it who asked for a trial?
A nobleman, child, quite untutored
A knight? O my! Was he admitted?
No, my child, there was much dispute
Tell me, what happened?
If it disturbed you, how could it leave me in peace?
So he fared badly, and failed?
Hopelessly, the knight sang his chance away
Eva! Hist!
Hopelessly? How? Is there no way of helping him?
Did he sing so badly, so faultily
That nothing can help him become a master?
My child, for him all is lost
He'll never be accepted as a master
For he who was born a master
Has among masters the worst standing
- Your father's calling - Then tell me further
Does no Master support him?
Who would in earnest be his friend After he made us masters feel so small?
Sir High-and-Mighty, let him go May he fight his way through the world
What we learned with difficulty and labour
Let us savour in peace Let him not run rings around us
May fortune smile upon him somewhere else
Yes, it shall smile upon him elsewhere Not among you nasty, small-minded men
Somewhere warm and welcoming Away from the malice of Master Sachs!
At once, Lena! At once! I'm just coming! What comfort could I take from here?
It reeks of pitch
He should burn it to find warmth
Just as I thought
Now I must find a way
Good heavens! Where are you, so late? Your father was calling
Go in to him Say I'm in bed in my chamber
No, no, hear me, let me have my word Beckmesser found me, I couldn't get away
Tonight you are to be at your window He wants to serenade you
With the song which he hopes will win you To see if you like it
That's all I need! If only it was the other one
Have you seen David?
What's he to me?
I was too hard on him, he'll be fretting
- Still no-one? - I'm sure someone's coming
Would it were he
Come, we must go in now
Not until I've seen my beloved!
I was wrong, it wasn't him
Come along, your father will be suspicious
- How anxious I am - And we must also discuss
How to get rid of Beckmesser
You go to the window instead of me
What, me?
David would be jealous
His window's on the alley Ha, that would be fun!
- I hear footsteps, coming closer - Come, you must go in now
I'm sure it's nothing, come along Wait until your father's in bed
He! Lene! Eva!
It's high time Do you hear? Your noble is long gone
- There he is! - That's that! Now we must be cunning!
Yes, it's you It is you
I'll tell everything For you know it
I'll lament everything For I know it
You are both A prizewinning hero
And my only friend!
Alas, you're wrong, I'm only your friend
Not yet worthy of the prize Not the equal of the masters
My inspiration was met with contempt And I know I may not aspire
To your fair hand
How wrong you are! My hand alone will award the prize
As my heart discovered your courage Only to you will I give the garland
No, you are wrong, your hand Even if pledged to no-one else
Would, bound by your father's will Still be lost to me
"Only a mastersinger crowned by you Can my daughter choose"
He spoke solemnly to the gentlemen And can't retract, even if he wanted to
That's what gave me courage Though everything seemed strange
I sang full of love and ardour That I might win the master rank
But these masters!
Ha, these masters! The sticky nature of these rhyming laws!
My gall rises My heart stands still
When I think of the trap Into which I was lured
Away to freedom! That's where I belong
Master of my own devices
If I'm to woo you today I beseech you now
Come, follow me away from here!
Without any hope There is no other choice
Everywhere masters Like evil spirits
Ganging up To mock me
With their guilds From marker's boxes
From every corner In every spot
Nothing but masters Crowding together
With scornful nods Brazenly staring at you
Surrounding you In circles and rings
Nasally and shrilly Demanding you as their bride
As master's mistress In the singer's chair
Lifting you up high Trembling and quaking
Is this what I must endure With meek surrender and acceptance?
My love, calm down It was only the night watchman's horn
Beneath the lime-tree Hide yourself quickly
The Watchman will come past here
Eva! It's time! Take your leave!
You'll flee?
Do I have a choice?
Escape?
From the master's court
Hear ye, good people The clock has struck ten
Guard fire and light To prevent all harm
Praise ye the Lord!
There's mischief afoot
An elopement being planned?
Watch out, this must not happen
Is she not coming back? I can't bear it
But yes! Is that her? 0 woe, no!
It's the other one
But... yes, it's her!
Here she is, the foolish child, I'm yours!
O heavens! Now I know the master's prize is mine
But no time for thought now! Away, away from here!
If only we were gone
Down the alley there
Beyond the gate My servant and horses are waiting
Oh dear, the cobbler! If he were to see us! Hide! Don't go near him!
What other way will lead us out?
Through the street there, but it's winding And I don't know it well
And we would meet the watchman there
Well then, through the alley
- Not till the cobbler leaves his window - I'll make him leave it
- Don't show yourself, he knows you! - The cobbler?
- It's Sachs! - Sachs? He's my friend
That's what you think! He only speaks ill of you
What? Sachs too? I'll put out his light
Don't do it
But listen!
The sound of a lute
- That's all I need! - What's the matter?
The cobbler's light has gone Let's risk it
Alas! But don't you see?
Someone else is there now
I hear and see a musician What does he want here so late at night?
It's Beckmesser already!
- Aha! I thought so - The marker?
Him, here in my sights? I'll knock him out cold
For God's sake, don't You'll wake my father
A quick song and he'll be gone
Let's hide here
The trouble I have with men!
Jerum! Jerum!
Hallahallohel Oho!
- Tralalei! - What's this?
- Tralalei! Oho! - Damned yelling!
When Eva was cast out of Paradise By God the Lord
The hard gravel caused much pain To her bare feet
What is this boorish cobbler up to?
The Lord took pity
What's this song?
- He liked her little feet - How is your name in it?
I've heard it before, it's not about me
- He called to his angel: - But there's mischief behind it
"Make shoes for the poor sinner
And Adam, I can see Bangs his toes against the stones
- What a delay! Time is passing - So that in future he can walk properly
Measure him for boots as well!"
Why, Master? Up, so late at night?
Mr town clerk! Can't you sleep?
Don't you worry about these shoes I'm on it, they'll be ready tomorrow
The devil take the shoes I just need peace and quiet
0 Eva! Eva! wicked woman Be it on your conscience
Us or the marker On whom is he playing tricks?
On all three of us, I fear
- Alas, what torment! I fear the worst - If you stayed in paradise
- My sweet angel, be of good cheer! - There was no gravel
- The song is making me sad - I scarcely hear it
- I now busy myself with awl and thread - You're by my side
- And but for Adam's wretched weakness - What a lovely dream
I sole shoes and apply pitch
If I were not A pure angel
The devil could be a cobbler!
Stop this nonsense immediately! Do you carry on like this all the time?
If I sing here, what's it to you?
Don't you want the shoes to be finished?
Then shut yourself in And keep quiet!
Working at night is irksome
If I'm to keep awake I need air and lively song
Just listen to the third verse
He's driving me mad!
The Caterwauling!
- Eva will think it's me singing - 0 Eva, hear my lament
My trouble and vexation!
The works of art a cobbler made The world treads underfoot
If an angel did not comfort me Who has had a similar lot
And call me into paradise Gladly I'd leave shoes and boots behind
But when I'm in heaven The world would lie at my feet
And I am at peace
Hans Sachs, a shoemaker and a poet to boot!
The window is opening
His song saddens me for some reason Away, let us flee!
- All right then, with my sword! - No, don't! Ah, stop!
Good heavens, it's her!
- He's not worth the trouble - Yes, patience
I'm done for if he goes on singing!
Oh dearest man! That I can cause you such distress!
Sachs, my friend, a word with you!
- Who's at the window? - How keen you are about these shoes!
- It's Magdalena - I had honestly forgotten them
That serves him right
I appreciate your skill as a cobbler
I can scarcely help laughing
- As an artist I value you more highly still - How I long for an end to this
- I wish he'd make a start - Your judgement is second to none
So, listen to my little song
With which I would like to win tomorrow And say whether it seems all right to you
Aha! So you want to dupe me?
I'll not be humiliated again
Whenever I try to be a poet
Things look bad for your footwear
I can see how sloppy it is Flapping everywhere
So now I'll sensibly Leave verse and rhymes alone
Reason and wit and knowledge too And get your shoes ready for tomorrow
Leave it! I was just joking Let me be open with you now
The people respect you And Pogner's daughter holds you dear
If before everybody I wish to woo her tomorrow
Say, might it not ruin me If my song is not pleasing to her?
So listen to me quietly And when I've sung, you can tell me
What you like about it, and what you don't That I can change it accordingly
Oh, leave me in peace Why give me the honour?
Street songs are all I can do
So, let me sing to the streets And hammer the last!
Damn the man! He drives me mad With his song full of pitch and grease!
Be quiet, you'll wake the neighbours
They're used to it, it falls on deaf ears Eva! Eva!
Oh, you spiteful fellow! This is the last trick you'll play on me!
Shut up right now Or I swear you'll regret it
You're jealous, nothing else
Even though you think you're being clever
You can't bear anyone getting the better of you
Believe me, I know you inside out!
That you weren't yet chosen as marker
That's what's tormenting this embittered cobbler
All right then! So long as Beckmesser lives And there's a rhyme still on his lips
While I sing a rhyme worthy of the masters Whether Nuremberg thrives or not
Hans Sachs will never be appointed marker That much I swear
Was that the song?
The devil take it!
Rather unruly, but sung with pride
Will you listen to me?
For God's sake
Sing on While I get on with your shoes
But you'll keep quiet?
Oh, sing away You'll see, it will advance my work too
But you'll stop that blasted knocking?
How else can your soles be fitted properly?
So, you hammer while I sing?
Both song and shoes need finishing
I don't want any shoes!
You say that now
But then you'll bring it up in the school
But listen, perhaps we can come to an arrangement
Man gets on best in unison
Though I may not put aside my work
I'd like to learn the marker's art
In this you are second to none Only you can teach me
So, if you sing, I'll note and mark While cobbling at the same time
Mark away then, and what goes wrong Take your chalk and set it against me
No, Sir! My work won't get done that way
With the hammer I'll mark you
Damnation, and it's getting late! She won't wait at the window forever
Begin, hurry up Or I'll sing to myself
Stop, anything but that! The devil! How annoying
If you must play the marker
Very well, mark with the hammer on the last
With one condition, keep to the rules Mark strictly according to them
According to them as known to the cobbler Whose fingers are itching to get to work
- Master's honour? - And cobbler's humour!
No mistakes, all will be well
Barefoot tomorrow, then
- What a crazy business! It's like a dream - Sit down here, then
- As if I never left the song chair - Why so far off?
- I feel so strangely troubled - As in the school before the marker's box
- Is it good or evil that I sense? - My voice is wonderfully flexible
How charming, now begin
The day I see appear Brings me great delight
Then my heart is seized By a strong and fresh...
Are you joking? What's wrong?
Better sung as:
"My heart is seized By a strong, fresh..."
How can that be rhymed with "I see appear"?
Don't you care about the melody?
Surely music and text should match?
I won't argue with you Now stop your hammering
- Or you'll have cause to remember me! - Now continue!
- Now I'm totally confused - So start again
I'll keep silent for three faults
I'd best pay no attention to him
If only it doesn't confuse the maiden!
The day I see appear Brings me great delight
Then my heart is seized By strong, fresh courage
I don't think of dying But rather of wooing
A young maiden's hand
Why of all days Is today the most beautiful?
To all here I say it Because a beautiful maiden
By her dear father As vowed he has
Is destined for matrimony
Come and see Standing there
The good, dear young lady
On whom I set all my hope
That's why the day is nice and blue
As I at the beginning found
Sachs! Look! You're ruining me! Will you be quiet now?
I'm already speechless!
I was marking the faults, then we'll talk Meanwhile the soles are coming on
Is she going? Hist! Hist! Oh God, I must!
Sachs! I'll remember you for this vexation!
Marker in position! Continue!
Today my heart will jump for joy To woo a maiden young
But her father tied A condition to it
For him who will inherit him And also win
His daughter's hand
A worthy Master of the Guild He loves his daughter well
But at the same time he shows What store he sets by art
He must win the prize In the master-singing
Who will his son-in-law be
Now Art is needed So that, by your leave
Without all harmful, common deception
The winning of the prize may succeed to him Who desires with true ardour
The maiden to woo
- Have you finished? - Why do you ask?
I've quite finished the shoes
That's what I call a pair of marker's shoes
- Hear my marker's verse too - If I'm to call myself a master
I'll gladly prove it today
Because I must burn to have the prize And thirst and hunger
What the devil, here? And even over there?
It's Lena, I can see it clearly!
- Who's that yelling? - I well know all the rules
Goodness, it's him
She's asked him for a rendezvous!
That's the man
She prefers to me!
I'll tan your hide!
Be quiet, and be off with you!
Go to the devil, you idiot!
David! O God, what a mess! Help, help! They'll kill each other!
- Let me go! - Of course! I'll break your bones for you!
Ho there! This way! There's a fight!
They'll kill each other!
No! David, are you mad?
Eva! Shut the window! I'll see if it's safe downstairs
Now we must be bold And fight our way through!
Lena, where are you?
Get back indoors, Miss Lena!
Hear ye, good people The clock has struck eleven
Beware of ghosts and spooks That no evil spirit ensnare your soul
Praise ye the Lord!