As to the worthy visitors, the prime cause of this unique representation, sober, imperturbable, upright in their chairs, in their severe costumes, they sat without moving, listening intently, watching with all their eyes, but probably understanding very little.
I feel sure that they remained forever convinced that it was all from some new work of the Master—some unpublished fragment, perhaps from the Ring of the Nibelung!
And now again it was the farewell evening.
In order to soften the bitterness, Wagner took a score and went to the piano.
"To-day," said he, "let us make peace with the Meistersinger."
The Master believed, in spite of my efforts to convince him to the contrary, that I did not care for the Meistersinger. The truth is, that all I had heard of the opera was a few fragments played at the popular concerts or at the piano. All that I knew delighted me, but Wagner would not believe it.
"I do not want you to misunderstand this work," said he, as he opened the book.
And, for several hours he went through the score, playing, explaining, commenting with wonderful kindness.
The music of the Meistersinger is especially difficult to render at the piano and Wagner was not a very skilful performer—Richter knew that, so he was very restless and followed the Master's playing, note by note, with the greatest anxiety. He knew it all, even the most uninteresting passages; he touched the notes that the hand of the Master was too small to include. From time to time he was carried out of himself, and struck the piano hurriedly, saving an effect which was in danger of being lost, completing a harmony, or striking a chord between the Master's hesitating fingers.