■' ' ■* '*■** 'in' **-*:* '•' 
 
 / 
 
 
 '.-.••.- . -.'. ,'.. 
 
 B8lilQf';- : ^ 
 
 te - 
 
 
 i 'He* 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 ■'•:y/. 


 
 f< cAj& WteM 
 
 £ 
 
 ■ V 
 
 £< 
 
 f- 
 
 (D>^ 
 
 1 
 
 (.i
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS OF RICH- 
 ER AND HIS FESTI- 
 VAL THEATRE IN BAYREUTHj*.* 
 BY ALBERT LAVIGNAC professor of 
 
 HARMONY AT THE CONSERVATOIRE AT PARIS & 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH 
 BY ESTHER SINGLETON WITH 
 ILLUSTRATIONS AND DIAGRAMS 
 
 NEW YORK^DODDMEAD AND 
 COMPANY <* & j* MDCCCCVI
 
 Copyright, 1S9S, 
 
 By Dodd, Mead and Company. 
 
 2SiuDrrsitii ^Jrrss : 
 John Wilson anp Son. Camiiriuge, U S. A.
 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 IN writing the thousand and first book on Richard 
 Wagner and his work, I do not pretend to accom- 
 plish anything better than has yet been done. My aim 
 has been something quite different, — a. real practical 
 guide to Bayreuth for the French which will answer the 
 needs and satisfy the curiosity of those of our nation 
 who have not yet taken that little journey, which is so 
 easy and attractive. I. have also desired to indicate in 
 what state of mind it should be undertaken and what 
 seductive preliminary studies are necessary to the com- 
 plete enjoyment of the trip ; finally, it has been my 
 desire to present the Wagnerian style in its own proper 
 light, by dissipating the clouds with which it has been 
 enveloped bv certain of its commentators, who, far from 
 smoothing the way, have made it bristle with difficulties. 
 This is the sole criticism I will allow myself: they write 
 for Wagnerians, not for neophytes. 
 
 Of course, I have not read all that has been written 
 about Wagner, — one human life would not suffice for 
 that, and one would have to be a polyglot, — but I have 
 studied a very large number of important works, especially 
 those of Ernst, Scbure, Chamberlain, de Brinn' Gaubdst, 
 the biography by Adolphe fullien and that in Grove's 
 English Dictionary, Wagner's Letters and Autobiographv, 
 the writings of fl'olzogen, Maurice Kufferath, Soubies*
 
 vi PREFACE 
 
 Malherbc, etc., all very remarkable from various points 
 of view; and the spirit and matter of these I have 
 endeavoured to condense. But my most precious doc- 
 uments are those I myself collected on the spot, and 
 among them arc many which are now printed for the 
 first time ; for these I am indebted to the kindness of 
 Herr A. von Gross, the head of the Biihnenfestspiel; my 
 learned friend, J. B. Weckerlin, librarian of the Conser- 
 vatoire, has greatly facilitated my researches for others ; 
 and I have laid under contribution the inexhaustible 
 archives of M. Lascoux, one of the first and most en- 
 thusiastic Wagnerians, and the erudition of my friend, 
 Vincent d'Indy, from one of whose letters I have not 
 scrupled to borrow whole paragraphs. 
 
 To all of these kind collaborateurs I here offer my 
 most heartfelt gratitude. I also owe thanks to my pupil, 
 Paul Jumel, w r ho has aided me in classifying the notes 
 and in correcting the proofs. 
 
 A. L. 
 
 Paris, 1897.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 Paces 
 
 Preface , . . . v 
 
 Chap. I. — Life in Bayreuth I 
 
 Chap. II. — Biography 21 
 
 History of the Theatre 54 
 
 Chap. III. — Analysis of the Poems ..... 68 
 
 Tannhauser 84 
 
 Lohengrin 96 
 
 Tristan und Isolde 113 
 
 Die Meistersinger 125 
 
 Die Tetralogie der Ring des Nibelungen 155 
 
 Das Rheingold ....... 156 
 
 Die Walkure . 162 
 
 Siegfried 177 
 
 Die Gotterdammerung 192 
 
 Parsifal z 1 J 
 
 Chap. IV. — Analysis of the Music ..... 235 
 
 Tannhauser 263 
 
 Lohengrin 272 
 
 Tristan und Isolde 284 
 
 Die Meistersinger 316 
 
 Der Ring des Nibelungen 343 
 
 Das Rheingold 343 
 
 Die Walkure 367 
 
 Siegfried 389 
 
 Die Gotterdammerung . . . . . 413 
 
 Parsifal 441 
 
 Chap. V. — The Interpretation 474 
 
 Bibliography 513
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Pages 
 Richard Wagner Frontispiece 
 
 View of Bayreuth from Festival-Theatre ... 3 
 
 Festival-Theatre, Bayreuth 5 
 
 Market Place 1 I 
 
 The New Castle 12 
 
 The Ermitage 16 
 
 Wahnfried 19 
 
 Wagner's Birthplace in Leipzig 23 
 
 Vendramin-Calergi Palace, Venice, where Wagner 
 
 died 53 
 
 Section of Orchestra 61 
 
 Arrangement of the Orchestra 62 
 
 The Hall, the Orchestra, and the Stage ... 64 
 
 Section of the Hall, the Orchestra, and the Stage 67 
 
 Hans Richter 485 
 
 Hermann Levi 486 
 
 Felix Mottl 487 
 
 Siegfried Wagner 495 
 
 Anton Seidl 509
 
 The 
 Music Dramas of Richard Wagner 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 LIFE IN BAYREUTH 
 
 " O ye who dwell . . . on the shore 
 sacred to the virgin goddess of the 
 golden shafts . . . where the Greeks 
 meet in famous council . . . soon 
 shall the glorious voice of the flute 
 go up for you again, resounding with 
 no harsh strain of grief, but with such 
 music as the lyre maketh to the 
 gods! "• — Sophocles. 
 
 BAYREUTH, as is witnessed by the beauty of many 
 of its monuments and the width of its streets, 
 had its period of splendour when it was the residence of 
 the Margraves during the seventeenth and the first half 
 of the eighteenth century. It has now again become a 
 fine provincial town, quiet and easy-going ; life should 
 be peaceful and comfortable there, to judge from several 
 imposing private hotels which are almost palatial, the 
 smart houses which line the aristocratic quarters, and the 
 fine theatre, whose interior, a veritable marvel of the " ro- 
 coco " style, attests past grandeur. This theatre, which 
 keeps a respectful silence when its celebrated and over- 
 powering neighbour begins to speak, offers nil the sweet- 
 ness of Italian music, of opera comique^ and even of 
 operettas to the inhabitants of Bayreuth, who seem to 
 
 i
 
 2 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 welcome with interest Les Dragons de Hilars, Lucia di 
 Lammermoor, and La Fllle de Mme. Angot. 
 
 But it is on the approach of the performances in the 
 Festival -Theatre that the town is to be seen departing 
 from its accustomed calm and adorning itself to welcome 
 its guests, who become more numerous each season. 
 
 A full month in advance the performers, coming from 
 all parts of Germany, and even from abroad, to co-operate 
 in the great work, begin to animate the usually silent 
 streets with their presence, gathering in the inns, and 
 from morning to night dotting the road leading to the 
 theatre, to which they are called by the numerous re- 
 hearsals. 
 
 The hotels make their toilette ; private houses, des- 
 tined also to entertain strangers, are put in their best 
 order: nothing is too good, according to the idea of 
 these kind and hospitable people, for the expected lodgers. 
 The housekeeper, who has cleaned her house from top 
 to bottom with scrupulous care, in honour of her visitors 
 deprives herself of all her ornaments to decorate their 
 rooms lavishly, adding garlands and bunches of artificial 
 flowers. She selects the finest embroidered sheets from 
 her chests, and provokingly puts covers, which are always 
 too narrow, on them by means of a complicated system 
 of buttons. The first night or two we are a little out 
 of our bearings, but we quickly grow accustomed to this 
 strange fashion and soon come to sleep peacefully under 
 the benevolent eyes of the host's family portraits, among 
 which a bust of Wagner and a lithograph of Franz Liszt 
 are always found. 
 
 During this period of preparation and work, it is es- 
 pecially in the neighbourhood of the Festival -Theatre 
 that activity is concentrated. The artists have not 
 always the time, after the morning rehearsal, to go back
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER
 
 4 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 to the town at the lunch hour, and often take their meal 
 in the spacious restaurant, which is near by, and which 
 is also smartened up and festooned with the Bavarian 
 colours to receive in a tew days the numerous guests to 
 whom it will serve the most varied menus of a good French 
 cuisine. In the meanwhile, it supplies the personnel of the 
 theatre with a very comfortable dinner (in Germany they 
 dine at one o'clock), for the modest sum of one mark. 
 There is nothing more amusing than these groups in 
 which Siegfried is seen fraternizing with Mime, and Par- 
 sifal in no wise terrified by the presence of the Flower- 
 maidens. At a table set in the open air, and always 
 surrounded by a family group, dines Hans Richter, who, 
 with his sandy beard, large-brimmed hat, and short velvet 
 coat, would be recognized among a thousand. 
 
 But the hour strikes; it is time to get back to work: 
 the large break drawn by two white horses, well-known 
 to the inhabitants of Bayreiith, arrives, and, after describ- 
 ing a skilful curve, sets down before the porch of the 
 Theatre the inspirer and oracle of all this little world, 
 Fran Wagner, the valiant custodian of the traditions and 
 wishes of the Master, whose activity never forsakes her 
 and who is present at all the rehearsals, watching over 
 the smallest details. Here is also Herr von Gross, who 
 seconds Frau Wagner's efforts with his wide knowledge 
 of affairs and enlightened devotion. 
 
 We next direct our steps to the hall where the door 
 is shut, conscientiously guarded by an old servant of 
 Wahnfricd. The silence lasts until nightfall and is only 
 broken by occasional pedestrians, inhabitants of the town, 
 who sometimes stroll as far as this to enjoy the view and 
 the splendid sunsets which are to be seen from the ter- 
 raced gardens adjoining the Theatre. 
 
 The ordinary rehearsals are strictlv private ; but to the
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 5 
 
 general rehearsals of each work, which take place just 
 before the opening of the season, Frau Wagner invites 
 her friends in Bayreuth (who have no seats at the 
 series, which are all reserved for strangers), and also the 
 families of her faithful auxiliaries, the artists. 
 
 It would be impossible, moreover, to judge of the de- 
 sired sonorous effects if these final rehearsals took place 
 in an empty hall ; the presence of the spectators very 
 sensibly improves its acoustics. 
 
 FESTIVAL-THEATRE, BAYREUTH 
 
 The date fixed months before for the first performance 
 at last arrives : every one is at his post, armed and ready ; 
 the town is adorned with flags, and, let it be said in pass- 
 ing, there is no fear of missing the French colours from 
 among the flags of all nationalities, which will at once 
 reassure those people who are doubtful — if any remain 
 — of their kind reception by the Bavarians. 
 
 In a few hours Bayreuth is full of the animation of its 
 great days. People very limited with regard to time
 
 6 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 often arrive at the last moment ; but that is a bad plan, 
 and we cannot too strongly advise those who can do it 
 to reserve at least half a day for rest, during which they 
 may familiarize themselves with the very special moral 
 atmosphere of this little district, before they climb the 
 leafy road which leads to the theatre. People do not go 
 there as they go to the Opera in Paris, or in any other 
 city, taking with them their cares of yesterday and their 
 worldlv indifFerence. Or, at least, they should not go 
 thus, for it would be voluntarily depriving themselves of 
 one of the most intense artistic emotions it is possible to 
 experience, if they entered the hall of the Festival- 
 Theatre at Bayreuth without being sympathetically at- 
 tuned to what they have come to hear. Unfortunately 
 that is what often happens now that the Wagnerian 
 pilgrimage has become as fashionable as it is to go to 
 Spa, or to Monte Carlo. I know perfectly well that it 
 is impossible to make all the spectators pass an examina- 
 tion before permitting them to enter the hall, or to make 
 sure that, either by their musical education or by the 
 intelligent interest which they take in matters of art, 
 they are worthy to enter into the sanctuarv ; but it must 
 be confessed that it is painful to hear the absurd remarks 
 which show how unworthy is a certain portion of the 
 public that now frequents Bayreuth. I have heard one 
 woman ask who was the author of the piece to be given 
 the next day ; and another rejoiced that they were going 
 to perform Sigurd (/), which she liked so much. Her 
 companion, an enlightened musician, to whom she made 
 this astonishing remark, set himself respectfully, though 
 greatly distressed, to correct her grave error, and began to 
 sketch for her the subject of the Tetralogy, which, indeed, 
 interested her very much, for she had not the least notion 
 of it, when, darkness enveloping the hall and the grum-
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 7 
 
 Mings of the admirable prelude to the first act of Die 
 IValkiire being heard, it was necessary to interrupt this 
 education, alas ! so tardily begun. 
 
 More than an hour before the time fixed for the play 
 a long line of carriages forms to bring the public to the 
 theatre. These carriages, too few for the number of 
 rich amateurs, are taken by assault ; it is well to engage 
 them in advance if you do not wish to go on foot, 
 which you can do in a delightful walk of about twenty 
 minutes along the shady lanes parallel with the principal 
 avenue. The landaus and victorias, somewhat out of 
 date and made to be drawn by two horses, have never 
 more than one, harnessed to the right side of the shaft 
 (as horses are scarce), which produces the most comic 
 effect. 
 
 If you are among the first to arrive, you have ample 
 leisure to examine the new-comers and to notice that the 
 toilettes have singularly gained in elegance during the 
 past years. Formerly every one was contented with a 
 simple travelling costume ; then, little by little, the stan- 
 dard rose, and if tourists' costumes are seen now, they 
 are in the minority. I speak here principally of the 
 ladies, who display bright and fresh toilettes. The sole 
 annoying point for them is the hat, which they will not 
 consent to leave with the attendants during the acts, 
 when it is strictly forbidden to keep it on the head. 
 They resign themselves, then, to holding it on their lap, 
 which is scarcely comfortable. 
 
 This moment of waiting in the open air and daylight, 
 for the performance begins at four o'clock {Rheingcld, 
 which begins at five o'clock, is an exception), is perfectly 
 charming. The situation of the Theatre, admirably 
 chosen by Wagner, commanding a smiling country with 
 the town in the foreground and the woods and meadows
 
 8 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 of green Franconia for the horizon, is absolutely enchant- 
 ing. However, it must not rain ; for the building, so 
 well arranged for everything else, only offers under its ex- 
 terior galleries which are open to every wind, a poor 
 shelter, where at such times the public huddles under 
 umbrellas streaming with rain. But, doubtless, God 
 protects the spectators of Bayreuth, for it is generally 
 fine, and you can stay outside till the last moment. 
 
 Now let us go into the hall and make its acquaintance 
 while it is still brightly illuminated. 
 
 You enter it in the simplest way : no black-coated 
 gentlemen are seated behind a desk. One employe only 
 is found at each of the numerous entrances to see that 
 you have not mistaken your door, and tears off the cou- 
 pon of the performance for that day. You will come 
 back again after each entr'acte without any one troubling 
 about you. 
 
 The hall, which we will describe later in detail, before 
 the curtain rises gives one the impression of an aviary in 
 full activity ; every one is moving about, more or less 
 excited, talking with his neighbour, exchanging his im- 
 pressions, or relating his previous visits to this musical 
 city; then you search the distant rows for friends, or 
 simply for the well-known faces of those whom you know 
 to be attending the same series as yourself. 
 
 During this time the gallery reserved for the crowned 
 heads, and which is called the Royal Boxes, fills. Frau 
 Wagner's seats are filling in their turn. Her aristocratic 
 profile is visible; she seats herself in the front row with 
 her delightful daughters, and Siegfried Wagner, the living 
 image of his father, joins them when his duties do not 
 call him to the orchestra or upon the stage. However, 
 the last call of the trumpets (see Chapter V.) sounds 
 outside and the rare late arrivals come in. Suddenly
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 9 
 
 darkness envelops the hall and there is perfect silence. 
 I should like it better if people were silent from the very 
 first. It seems to me that all this agitation is a bad 
 preparation for what is to come ; but it cannot be 
 prevented. 
 
 The eye can distinguish nothing at first, then it grad- 
 ually gets accustomed to the feeble light produced by 
 some lamps near the ceiling. 
 
 From this moment one might hear a pin drop; every 
 one concentrates his thoughts, and every heart beats 
 with emotion. Then amidst the luminous and golden 
 haze which rises from the depths of the "mystic abyss,' 1 
 mount, warm, vibrant, and velvety, the incomparable 
 harmonies unknown elsewhere, which, taking possession 
 of your whole being, transport you to a world of dreams. 
 The curtain opens in the middle and masses itself 
 on each side of the stage, exposing to view scenery 
 which, as a rule, is very beautiful. Criticism, which 
 never gives up its rights, disapproves of many things, 
 though almost always wrongly in our opinion ; but let 
 us set that question aside (as well as the performance, 
 which will be fully dealt with hereafter) to recall our 
 impressions at the end of the act, when, the last chord 
 having sounded, we start from our ecstasy to go and 
 breathe the pure air outside. 
 
 Let us state in passing that the atmosphere of the 
 hall, thanks probably to an ingenious system of venti- 
 lation, has never seemed mephitic to us, like the ma- 
 jority of theatres we know; on returning we do not 
 experience that asphyxiating sensation that is usually so 
 disagreeable. 
 
 Nothing could be more delicious or more restful 
 than these entractes passed in the open air, nor could 
 anything be gayer ; we find many people there, we hear
 
 io THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 French spoken on all sides, and we have the feeling of 
 beino- at home, as on coming out of the Conservatoire, 
 or the Lamoureux or Colonne concerts. The memory 
 of our " absent country " does not come into our minds 
 with any sadness. 
 
 Usually at the end of the performance people go to 
 supper in one of the large restaurants immediately ad- 
 joining the theatre. There is a third, a little higher up 
 and a little more isolated, where those who like to pro- 
 long their meditations will find a calm, quiet, and 
 comfortable retreat. 
 
 It is prudent to engage a table in advance at the large 
 restaurant, for without doing so we risk a very late 
 supper. The cuisine there is excellent. We can either 
 select a very choice menu, for which we shall have to 
 pav accordingly -, or we can satisfy ourselves for a very 
 reasonable price. The artists often meet there, and 
 when after the performance one who has greatly de- 
 lighted the public enters, it is not rare to see everybody 
 spontaneously rise to give him a warm and noisy ova- 
 tion. And this so much the more willingly because they 
 never appear on the stage to receive the plaudits of their 
 admirers. This is a custom which Wagner established 
 from the first. At first it was even strictly prohibited 
 to applaud at the end of the work, and the perform- 
 ances of the Ring, which during the first year formed 
 the programme of the Festivals, ended in a respectful 
 and affecting silence, which certainly agreed better with 
 the poignant impression left by the admirable final scene 
 than noisy demonstrations ; however, several regrettable 
 infractions of the rule took place, the enthusiasm mani- 
 festing itself in the usual way, which was against 
 Wagner's wish, and which he had much trouble in 
 repressing. It has always remained the tradition not
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 ii 
 
 to applaud Parsifal, but for the other works the public 
 has had its way : it is not possible to prevent the 
 bravos from breaking out at the end ot the perform- 
 ance. The public even took it into its head, in 1896, 
 at the end of the first series, to call for Richter, who had 
 conducted the Tetralogy in a masterly manner. For more 
 than a quarter of an hour frantic applause and shouts, 
 enough to bring the house down, were heard on every 
 
 MARKET PLACE 
 
 side ; but the noble and modest artist, faithful to the 
 established rule, did not yield to the general wish, and 
 remained obstinately invisible; he even avoided showing 
 himself at supper where he doubtless feared a renewal of 
 the demonstrations. A similar scene recurred over Mottl 
 eight days later. He had literally electrified his audience 
 by his admirable conducting of the orchestra ; but, be- 
 «*g just as retiring as his rival, he kept out of sight 
 with the same modesty. And when Siegfried Wagner's
 
 12 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 turn came to conduct his father's work, he also respect- 
 fully conformed to the tradition, notwithstanding the 
 sympathetic recalls of the entire audience. 
 
 The mornings pass quickly in Bayreuth; while waiting 
 for the Theatre to open we visit the town and the mon- 
 uments, which, to tell the truth, have only a secondary 
 interest ; but it is charming to lounge about there. 
 
 TIIK NEW CASTLE 
 
 The local guides will tell the reader that he must see 
 th ancient castle, where there is a tower, to the top of 
 which you can drive in a carriage (as in the Chateau 
 d'Amboise), and from which a beautiful view is to be 
 had of the surrounding country, gay, smiling, and fer- 
 tile; the new castle also, which contains a collection 
 of indifferent pictures; they also point out the statues of 
 kings, writers, and pedagogues which adorn the squares, 
 and tell him the number of churches he should visit, enu- 
 merating, meanwhile, the tombs of the Margraves which 
 they contain. The conscientious tourist will certainly
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 13 
 
 not neglect to make this round in detail. Others, on 
 the contrary, maintaining that they have come solely on 
 a musical pilgrimage, do not wish to know anything else 
 than the road leading to the Festival -Theatre. 
 
 Many people employ their mornings in reading over 
 the score which they will hear in the evening, or the 
 poem, and these are not the worst employed. You can 
 procure a passable piano at a large price, but you must 
 be a millionaire to hire a grand piano ! In every street 
 are heard harmonious chords, and from numerous open 
 windows float the well-known Leit-motive. 
 
 The loungers, to rest their minds, content themselves 
 with quiet walks through the streets and with visits to 
 the book-shops, where are to be seen the classic collec- 
 tion of portraits of the Master, the photographs of the 
 principal artists, and a lithograph representing an " Even- 
 ing at Wahnfried." Formerly there were also shops 
 for " souvenirs of Bayreuth," which offered all possible 
 extravagances and were really amusing. At that time 
 announcements like the following might be seen : 
 
 Novell. £»Qtrtcnir of toreutl). n£>%. 
 
 A very pretty box. decorated with scenes from the operas 
 of Richard Wagner, and containing SPICED BREAD of 
 an exquisite flavour, highly recommended to all visitors 
 to the Festivals. 
 
 Cljoice Selection. 
 
 Cuff Buttons and Scarf Pins, with the Por- 
 trait of our great Master, RICHARD WAGNER.
 
 i 4 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 But they have now become more quiet, and this year 
 you would have much trouble to find foulards with 
 the Festival -Theatre printed in two colours, and shirt- 
 fronts embroidered in Leit-motive. 
 
 The lunch-hour comes quickly ; then, according to 
 our purse or our tastes, we go either to one of the fine 
 and famous restaurants which are found in the principal 
 streets and in all the large hotels (there we can meet 
 with the stars and the principal people of the Theatre), 
 or to the more picturesque and characteristic inns, such 
 as Vogl or Sammt, where the artists and the old inhabit- 
 ants of Bayreuth often meet after the performances. 
 
 Here in the open air we can try the excellent beer 
 of the country, served in a mug of extraordinary height 
 and capacity, surmounted by a pewter lid, which is as 
 embarrassing to novices as the long-necked vase was to 
 the fox in the fable. For these mugs you pay the aston- 
 ishing price of fifteen pfennige. With this Bavarian beer 
 it is not unfitting to take an otnelette aux confitures, or 
 those delicious Pfannkucben^ of which only the German 
 cuisine has the secret, or a dish of sausages and sauerkraut. 
 Let not delicate palates exclaim at this : what seems 
 gross at home often becomes delicious when served in 
 its proper surroundings. The buffet at the station also 
 offers those who would lunch a resource of which one 
 rarelv thinks; there you are well treated, and served 
 mure quickly than elsewhere. 
 
 Let it be said here that, contrary to the accepted idea, 
 the trip to Bayreuth does not necessarily mean an exces- 
 sive expenditure, and is within the reach of moderate 
 purses. Thinking how profitable and instructive it 
 might be for musical students, or even for young ama- 
 teurs of limited means, to be able to attend these model 
 performances, we have studied the plan of this journey
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 15 
 
 from an economical standpoint, even setting ourselves, 
 with this end in view, to try the restaurants of different 
 grades which seemed acceptable to us ; and we have 
 calculated that a young man who does not mind travel- 
 ling second class, and taking twenty-four hours on the 
 journey to Nuremberg, will spend on the railway, going 
 and returning, very nearly one hundred and thirty francs 
 (the return ticket is I2ifr. 25c). Let us allow him 
 about forty francs for extras and restaurants during the 
 two days that he spends en route, going and returning; this 
 makes one hundred and seventy francs. It is possible 
 to live very comfortably in Bayreuth for a dozen francs 
 a day, room and meals. It now remains to see how 
 many performances he wants to attend, and to remember 
 that the price of a single seat is twenty-five francs. 
 Admitting that he attends four, which up to the present 
 time 1 has constituted the longest series, we shall arrive 
 at the conclusion, without being great mathematicians, 
 that he can pay for everything during six days' absence 
 with three hundred and fifty francs. It is certain that 
 he must not indulge himself in any follies, or even use- 
 less expenses, that he must be content with a simple 
 valise to avoid the expenses of baggage (nothing is 
 carried free in Germany), that he will make use of his 
 own legs in his excursions, and that he will not bring 
 back a present for each member of his family. But, on 
 the other hand, what profound, indelible memories he 
 will return with, and what a precious lesson he will 
 have gained ! 
 
 He who intends to travel comfortably, and without 
 denying himself anything, must expect to spend from 
 five hundred to six hundred francs. 
 
 1 For the first time in 1897 there were five works represented, 
 the Tetralogy and Parsifal.
 
 i6 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 During the days of rest which separate the perform- 
 ances, or in the mornings, it is pleasant to make some 
 of the excursions which the environs offer. 
 
 You can go to Berneck ; the trip is about two 
 hours in a carriage ; it shows you a picturesque corner 
 in the smiling valley of the CElsnitz ; the little town is 
 beautifully situated on the rock in a wild and mountain- 
 ous country ; it makes a delightful walk. 
 
 THE KRMITAGE 
 
 There is also the Ermitage, whose beautiful park 
 and celebrated elm-grove merit more attention than the 
 horrible structure of the castle, encrusted from top to 
 bottom with shell-work and cut pebbles. Let us men- 
 tion, however, a very graceful colonnade in hemicycle, 
 also the basins in which they will make different jets of 
 water play in your honour, recalling the far distant ones 
 of Versailles. 
 
 The Fantaisie, the park of which is open to the 
 public, is a private estate, which is almost always rented
 
 OY RICHARD WAGNER 17 
 
 during the season to some distinguished visitor. From 
 the terrace of the castle there is a lovely and melan- 
 choly view, which reminds you of certain compositions 
 of Gustave Dore. 
 
 All of these places are naturally provided with restau- 
 rants where you can lunch; here are to be found our 
 neighbours of yesterday and to-morrow, as well as the 
 artists, who come with their families to rest after their 
 interesting but severe labours. Sympathetic relations 
 are quickly established, and you cannot resist the pleas- 
 ure of seizing their hand, even if you do not know 
 them, and congratulating them on their intelligent inter- 
 pretation. You can express yourself in French, if you 
 do not speak German ; such things are understood in 
 all languages. In my opinion, one of the charms in 
 the life in Bayreuth is this frequent meeting with the 
 artists, whose lives are so often full of interesting par- 
 ticulars. 
 
 You also have the chance of seeing them at Wahn- 
 fried, if good fortune gives you any right of introduc- 
 tion there. 
 
 Frau Wagner, triumphing over all the fatigues caused 
 by her arduous occupation, every week during the sea- 
 son gives entertainments, to which she invites her per- 
 sonal friends and a small number of the happy elect. 
 As precious as any other memories are those passed in 
 the house of the Master, which is still so full of him, 
 and amongst those who have known and been with him. 
 
 How can we describe the exceptional charm of the 
 mistress of the house, and the exquisite affability with 
 which she receives the most modest, as well as the most 
 authoritative, admirers of Wagner? We, for our part, 
 are profoundly touched by it, as well as with her 
 gracious and very particular courtesy to the French.
 
 1 8 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 Frau Wagner is admirably seconded in her role by hei 
 son and by her very charming daughters, who rival each 
 other in the amiable reception of their guests. 
 
 At these receptions the interpreters from the Theatre 
 are often heard, and sometimes foreign artists, marvel- 
 lously accompanied by Herr Mottl, who, not contenting 
 himself with being a great orchestral conductor, is also 
 a pianist of the highest order. 
 
 The large central hall in the villa, where they have 
 the music, is ornamented with a very handsome bust of 
 Wagner, and statues of his principal heroes : the Flying 
 Dutchman, Tannhauser, Lohengrin, Walter von Stol- 
 zing, and Hans Sachs. A frieze en grisaille represents 
 the principal scenes of the Tetralogy. The superb 
 library adjoining this hall proves, by the number and 
 selection of its volumes, the rare erudition, as well as the 
 eclecticism of him who formed it. Here, also, among a 
 profusion of objects of art and precious souvenirs, we 
 admire interesting portraits of the Master and his wife. 
 
 The villa is situated in a fine park at the end of 
 Richard Wagner street, originally named Renniveg, one 
 of the principal arteries of the town. It is built in the 
 style of a Roman villa, and in front, above the entrance 
 door, is an allegorical fresco representing Wotan and his 
 two ravens, with Tragedy and Music on either side, and 
 with them stands the young Siegfried, the "chef-d'oeuvre 
 of the future." Beneath it an inscription reads : " Here 
 where my imagination has found peace, this house shall 
 be called by me the peace of imagination." l 
 
 1 The German words are : " Hier wo mein Wahnen Frieden 
 fand, Wahnfricd sci dieses Ilausvon mir benannt." The figures of 
 the fresco arc portraits : Wotan represents Betz ; Tragedy, Mme. 
 Schroeder-Devrient ; Music, Cosima Wagner ; and Siegfried, Sieg- 
 fried Wagner. — E. S.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 19 
 
 It is in the grounds of this estate, in a spot selected 
 by himself, that the Master sleeps his last sleep, near 
 those who loved him so much and who only live to 
 venerate and glorify his memory. On Sunday morning, 
 accomplishing a pious pilgrimage, you can pass through 
 the gate, which is then open, to the severe and bare 
 tomb overlooking the city's recreation ground, a beauti- 
 ful park planted with ancient trees. 
 
 WUTNI'RIFD 
 
 Not far away in the Bayreuth cemetery, the Abbe 
 Liszt reposes in a chapel, still encumbered with offer- 
 ings of sorrow from his numerous worshippers. Death 
 surprised him in 1886, during the performances at Bay- 
 reuth, whither he had come, already' ill, to visit his 
 daughter and to bring once again the homage of his 
 affectionate admiration for the work of the friend whom 
 he had been one oftthe first to understand, and whom 
 he had never ceased to console and comfort in the pain- 
 ful road to glory.
 
 20 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 When we read Wagner's correspondence and biogra- 
 phies, and take into consideration his struggles, the in- 
 numerable difficulties encountered on the way, the ill-will, 
 the unintelligent fetters which retarded for so many years 
 the expansion of his labours (which did not go so far as 
 to make him doubt his own genius — he felt it working 
 in him too powerfully to be able to mistake it — but 
 sufficiently to make him doubt if he would ever be 
 allowed to spread his wings), when we recall all this 
 bitterness, all this sadness, and when we now see the 
 work standing full of life, increasing every day, and 
 gathering around it so many faithful devotees in this 
 town of Bayreuth, almost unknown hitherto, and to- 
 day bearing inscribed forevermore in letters of gold this 
 glorious name which serves it as a luminous aureole, 
 when we see these thousands of pilgrims coming from 
 all parts of the world to bring the tribute of their enthu- 
 siastic cult, and lastly, when we remember that all this 
 is the result of the will and of the greatness of one 
 human brain, we remain silent, pensive, and filled with 
 admiration for that prodigious intellect and that match^ 
 less organization, whose equal cannot be found among 
 the annals of the past.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 21 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 BIOGRAPHY 
 
 " It was necessary that he should suf- 
 fer, for he was a man of genius." 
 
 H. Heine. 
 
 RICHARD WAGNER, born in Leipzig, May 22, 
 18 13, was the son of Carl Fricdrich IVilhelm 
 J Vaguer, a police-officer raised to the rank of chief of 
 police by Davoust during the French occupation, and of 
 'Johanna Rosina Bertz, who died in 1848. 
 
 Several of Richard Wagner's eight brothers and sisters 
 embraced the theatrical career : Albert, who was the 
 father of Johanna Jachmann, a celebrated singer; Jo- 
 hanna Rosalie, wife of Oswald Marbach, who was a dis- 
 tinguished actress; and Clara Uilb'-lmhie, who was also 
 a talented singer. 
 
 After the battle of Leipzig an epidemic carried off the 
 father of the family, who left his widow in a precarious 
 condition. She was married again in 18 15 to Ludwig 
 Geyer, an actor, minor dramatist, and portrait-painter. 
 Geyer took his wife and her children to Dresden, where 
 an engagement called him ; he conceived a deep affection 
 for the little Richard (who loved him like a father), and 
 wanted to make a painter of him. But the child showed 
 little aptitude for drawing, and manifested, on the other 
 hand, a marked inclination for music. Wagner himself 
 relates that the day before his stepfather's death in 1821, 
 having played on the piano some pieces which his sisters
 
 22 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 had taught him, he heard the dying man in the next 
 room say in a weak voice : " Will he have the gift of 
 music ? " 
 
 From his earliest years Wagner had an absolute passion 
 for Weber ; he knew Der Freischiitz bv heart, and hid 
 himself to watch its composer, who frequently came to 
 see Mme. Geyer, whose great intelligence made her a 
 favourite with artists. 
 
 From the beginning of his studies in the Kreutzschule 
 of Dresden he showed a strong taste for literature, as 
 well as a manifest facility for versification. ./Eschylus, 
 Sophocles, and Shakespeare, strongly excited his admira- 
 tion, and under their influence he planned a great drama 
 in which the forty-two characters all died in the course 
 of the play, so that in order to finish his fifth act he had 
 to bring them back as spectres. 
 
 In 1827 he had been taken from the Kreutzschule, 
 where he had reached the third grade, and placed in the 
 Nicolaischule in Leipzig, in the fourth, which completely 
 discouraged him. He became a very bad pupil, and 
 neglected his studies to devote himself exclusively to his 
 drama. During this period he heard at the Gewandhaus 
 Concerts for the first time Beethoven's Symphonies and 
 Egmont, which made a deep impression upon him. In 
 his enthusiasm he wanted to write music for his wonder- 
 ful drama, and diligently set to work, to the great distress 
 of his familv who did not believe in his vocation. How- 
 ever, he insisted to such a degree that he succeeded in 
 getting music lessons with an organist named Miiller. 
 Fearing nothing, he wrote an overture for full orchestra, 
 which he managed to have performed. " This," he 
 says, " was the culminating point of my absurdities. 
 What I did, above all things, wrong was a roll fortissimo
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 2 3 
 
 upon the kettle-drums, which returned regularly every 
 four bars throughout the composition. The surprise 
 which the public experienced changed first to uncon- 
 cealed ill-humour, and then into laughter which greatly 
 mortified me ! " 
 
 WAGNER'S BIRTHPLACE IN LEIPZIG 
 
 Then come the troubles of July, 1830, when young 
 Richard turns his thoughts solely to revolutionary politics, 
 and, entering into them with might and main, he aban- 
 dons all his studies, including music. He, however,
 
 24 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 enters the University of Leipzig to follow the courses of 
 aesthetics and philosophy, but gives himself up to the 
 extravagances of student life. Luckilv, this soon dis- 
 gusts him, and he feels the need of returning to his 
 work. He has the good fortune to find in the excellent 
 Theodor Weinlig a remarkable professor, who knows 
 how to gain his confidence, and induces him to make a 
 thorough studv of fugue and counterpoint. He learns 
 to know and appreciate Mozart, and composes a Polo- 
 naise and Sonata, awkward imitations of the styles of 
 Beethoven and Schubert, which he dedicates to his 
 master Weinlig. These two compositions were pub- 
 lished at Breitkopf and Hartel's, where they are still to be 
 had. His lessons only lasted six months, for he profited 
 by them to a remarkable extent, and thus " acquired," as 
 he himself has said, " independence in his method of 
 writing." 
 
 He left in 1832 for Vienna, where he found French 
 music and pots-pourris the fashion. On his way back he 
 stopped at Prague and managed to have several of his 
 compositions played there, among others a symphony. 
 There he wrote the poem and the first number of an 
 opera, Die Hocbzeit, in which the deplorable influence of 
 the bad French school is felt, and which he tore up the 
 following year because the subject was displeasing to his 
 sister Rosalie. 
 
 His career as a musician really begins in 1833. He 
 goes to Wiirzburg to be with his brother Albert, a dis- 
 tinguished singer,and, whilst fulfilling the duties of chorus- 
 master in the theatre of the town, he composes, after one 
 of Gozzi's fables, the libretto and music of a romantic 
 opera, Die Feen, which contained many good things, and 
 was manifestly inspired bv Beethoven and Weber. Frag- 
 ments were performed at the theatre of Wiirzburg,
 
 pfl OF RICHARD WAGNER 25 
 
 but it was_^neyer^staged,. The manuscript afterwards 
 became the property of the King of Bavaria. 
 
 It was in 1834 that Wagner for the first time heard 
 Mme. Schroeder-Devrient, whose dramatic talent ex- 
 ercised sucti powerful influence upon his genius in 
 making him comprehend what wonderful effects might 
 be produced by an intimate union of poetry and music. 
 Long afterwards in his career he said of her: "Every 
 time I compose a character, it is she whom I see." 
 
 It was also at this period that he began to write his 
 opera Das Liebesverbot (also entitled La Novice de Pa 
 lermo\ which he finished in 1836, when he was director 
 of a theatre in Magdeburg. One single representation 
 of this work (in which he entirely abandoned his first 
 models to follow the reigning French and Italian schools), 
 was given at very short notice the same winter before 
 the company of the theatre had been dismissed-, aftei 
 having caused its author a thousand vexations, it was 
 never repeated. 
 
 On leaving Magdeburg, the artist, financially embar- 
 rassed, went to Berlin, and then to Konigsberg, where 
 he passed a sterile year, and composed only an over- 
 ture, Rule Britannia. In Konigsberg he married Minna 
 Planer, to whom he had been engaged a year before in 
 Magdeburg ; but he had been forced to postpone his 
 marriage for want of money to provide a home. 
 
 In 1837 he obtained the post of musical director in 
 the theatre at Riga. He there wrote many pieces, and 
 began an opera which he abandoned, because he per- 
 ceived with annoyance that he was on the highway to 
 produce music u a la Adam." 
 
 He then felt the need of applying himself to some im- 
 portant work in which he could give full play to the 
 artistic faculties which he felt developing within him.
 
 26 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 He set to work with ardour, and when he left Riga in 
 1839, the two first acts of Rienzi were finished. The 
 hope of seeing this work represented on a large stage, 
 determined him to go to Paris. 
 
 He embarked for London with his wife and his dog, 
 a Great Dane named Robber. 
 
 It was during this terrible voyage, which lasted three 
 weeks, during which the ship sought refuge in one of 
 the fjords of Norway, that Wagner heard the legend of 
 The Flying Dutchman from the lips of the sailors. The 
 deep impression produced upon him by this battle with 
 the wild elements, when he faced death more than once, 
 ripened his genius and had a strong influence upon him. 
 
 After a short stay in London, he landed at Boulogne, 
 where he remained four weeks. There he made the 
 acquaintance of Meyerbeer, who listened with great 
 interest to the two acts of Rienzi and gave him letters of 
 introduction to Leon Pillet, director of the Opera, 
 Schlesinger, editor and proprietor of the Gazette Muslcale, 
 and several other persons. The voung composer arrived 
 in Paris buoyed with hopes which soon dissolved into thin 
 air : Meyerbeer, being constantly absent from the capital 
 at this period, could not render effective the benevolent 
 support which he had promised. The Theatre de la 
 Renaissance, on the point of producing his opera, La 
 Defense d* Aimer, unluckily failed, and the director of the 
 Opera, to whom he timidly proposed his Rlenzi, wrapped 
 up a formal refusal with meaningless polite phrases. On 
 the whole, performances on our principal stage were not 
 so good as he had anticipated, and the Italian singers, 
 who were so much the fashion there at that time, dis- 
 gusted him with Italian music. 
 
 On the other hand, he took an immense interest in 
 hearing Beethoven's Symphonies at the Concerts of the
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 27 
 
 Conservatoire, then conducted by Habeneck ; the Ninth 
 especially excited his admiration to the highest degree; 
 he, in fact, preferred it to all the others. 
 
 In the meantime, his pecuniary resources were failing; 
 he had left the Rue de la Tonnellerie to establish him- 
 self in a newly-furnished apartment in the Rue du Helder: 
 it was there that he experienced all the agonies of poverty. 
 Wagner had to accept an order to write the music for a 
 vaudeville, La Descente de la Courtille. The prelimi- 
 nary sketch was pronounced unplayable by the actors. 
 He then tried in vain to secure an engagement in the 
 chorus of a small boulevard theatre ; but he was re- 
 fused on account of his lack of voice. 
 
 He then wrote the music to Heine's Die be'ule Grena- 
 dlere, and three melodies to the words of Ronsard and 
 Victor Hugo ; for these he obtained some little money. 
 
 At this period he finished a masterly overture, Faust, 
 which was not played until fifteen years later, and in 
 which the influence of Beethoven is again distinctly 
 felt. 
 
 Finding himself, by the failure of all his plans, master 
 of his own time, he returned to Rienzi, which was des- 
 tined for the theatre at Dresden, where his name was 
 not unknown and where Mme. Devrient and the cele- 
 brated tenor, Tichatschek, were then singing. He ended 
 his work in November and sent it to Dresden, where it 
 was immediately accepted. It was represented there 
 in 1 84 1. 
 
 It was at this period, 1840, that Meyerbeer, during a 
 trip to Paris, induced him to enter into relations again 
 with Leon Pillet, the director of the Opera, to whom he 
 submitted the sketches of his poem, The Flying Dutchman, 
 since called in France Le vaisseau fantome, partly bor- 
 rowed from the legend heard on his sea-voyage and
 
 28 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 partly from H. Heine's Salon. The theme pleased Pillet 
 so much that he proposed to buy it and let some one 
 else set it to music. Wagner at once positively refused, 
 intending to renew the subject at some future time, when 
 Meyerbeer, who was again absent, would be able to lend 
 his aid ; and in order to obtain the pecuniary relief in 
 which he stood so greatly in need, he wrote several arti- 
 cles for the Gazette Musicale, among others Une visite a 
 Beethoven and La Jin d'un musicien allemand a Paris, 
 which were quite successful. To increase his resources, 
 he also made transcriptions for the piano of La Favorita, 
 U Elisire a" Amove, La reine de Chypre, and Le Guitta- 
 reo, and arranged a number of operas for the piano and 
 for the cornet-a-piston. 
 
 The winter of 1841 is passed in battling with poverty. 
 In the spring, learning that his idea for The Flying 
 Dutchman has been divulged to an author who is at 
 work upon it, he decides to part with the French rights. 
 With the modest sum obtained for it (500 francs), he 
 retires to Meudon, and, returning to the subject of which 
 he has been dispossessed, he begins to treat it in German 
 verse. It is not without strong misgivings that, having 
 procured a piano, he asks himself if he is still capable of 
 writing after having been so long banished from all 
 musical atmosphere by difficulties of a sordid nature. 
 At length he finds to his joy that he can compose better 
 than ever, and in seven weeks he finishes the three 
 acts, both poetry and music, of his work. £The over- . 
 ture alone is retarded by fresh pecuniary embarrassments^ ' 
 During this time he has been negotiating with Munich and 
 Leipzig about this score, which is refused on the grounds 
 that it would not please German taste. He had, how- 
 ever, kept his fellow-countrymen in mind while writing 
 it. But finally, thanks to Meyerbeer's intervention, it is
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 29 
 
 accepted in principle by the Royal Theatre of Berlin. 
 It was not performed there until January, 1844. 
 
 The prospect of having his two last works given in 
 Germany decides him to leave Paris, where he has suf- 
 fered so greatly and in so many ways, but which, on 
 the whole, has not been without value to him, and in 
 which city he has formed, as he himself says, many 
 treasured and lasting friendships. 
 
 He therefore leaves with his wife in the spring of 
 1842, happy and moved even to tears at returning to his 
 German fatherland, to which he vows eternal fidelity. 
 
 Ricnzi was mounted with great magnificence and per- 
 formed at Dresden in October, 1842, with the aid of 
 Mme. Devrient and Tichatschek ; it was an enormous 
 success. At the close of the first representation, which 
 lasted from six o'clock to midnight, the author proposed 
 cuts to which the artists were opposed, for they did not 
 want to sacrifice a single note of their roles. Two 
 other representations took place before a crowded house, 
 and when, at the end of the third, the conductor, Reis- 
 siger, courteously handed the baton to the young com- 
 poser, the enthusiasm of the public became delirious. 
 
 Encouraged by this success, which surpassed their 
 hopes, the directors of the Dresden theatre hastened to 
 mount The Flying Dutchman, which was represented 
 in 1843. Mme. Schroeder-Devrient filled the role of 
 Senta. But the public, expecting an opera in the 
 style of Rienzi, was slightly disappointed, or surprised, 
 rather. The work was none the less appreciated by 
 musicians of authority. Spohr and Schumann praised it 
 highly ; it was given with success at Riga and Casscl, 
 and the following year MM. Botticher and Tzschiesche 
 and Mile. Marx interpreted it in Berlin. 
 
 The qualities of conductor which Wagner exhibited
 
 3 o THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 in directing Rienzi, brought him the post of Hof kapell- 
 meister in Dresden at the beginning of 1843. ^ e na< ^ 
 hesitated to present himself at the competition for this 
 post ; but it would mean independence for him, per- 
 mitting him to devote himself to his labours freed from 
 all material cares. He decided to run the risk, and 
 triumphed over all his competitors by conducting his 
 venerated master's Euryanthe in a masterly manner. 
 
 He inaugurated his new duties bv conducting the 
 works of Berlioz, who was then making a tour in Ger- 
 many, and who has shown in his M'emoires his apprecia- 
 tion of the zeal and devotion which Wagner gave to 
 this matter. On the other hand, the French composer 
 gives only very faint praise to Rienzi and The Flying 
 Dutchman, which he had the opportunity of hearing. 
 
 During the seven years in which Wagner filled this 
 important post (1843— 1849), ne mounted successively 
 Euryanthe, Der Freischutz, Don Giovanni, Die Zduberjlote, 
 La Clemenza di Tito, Fidelio, La Vestale, Midsummer 
 Night's Dream, Armida, etc. 
 
 The presence of Spontini, who came to Dresden at 
 Wagner's instigation to conduct La Vestale, was fertile 
 in instructive experiences for the young composer. The 
 exactions of the old master in the presence of the or- 
 chestra caused him much embarrassment, but his patience 
 carried him through triumphantly. He never ceased to 
 show great deference to the author of La Vestale, who 
 became very fond of him, and, on leaving, amicablv gave 
 him this singular advice : " When I heard your Rienzi, 
 I said : ' This is a man of genius ; but he has alreadv 
 done more than he can ! ' Listen to me, and henceforth 
 give up dramatic composition! " 
 
 At first Wagner had hoped to change many things 
 around him and to raise the artistic level of Dresden ;
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 3 1 
 
 but he met with so much opposition and prejudice that 
 he soon abandoned his projects of reform. He, how- 
 ever, kept to the study of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony 
 with great tenacity, and, having succeeded in communi- 
 cating his enthusiasm to his musicians, he gave a 
 marvellous performance of it which was a veritable reve- 
 lation to his dilettante public. It is said that two of 
 his future disciples and collaborateurs, Hans von Biilow 
 and Hans Richter, took part in this concert. 
 
 In the midst of his numerous occupations he found 
 time to write a cantata,/)^ Liebesmabl der Apostel, which 
 was given in 1843 m tne Church of Our Lady, the re- 
 markable qualities of which passed entirely unnoticed. 
 His principal work at this period was the composition of 
 his opera, Tannhduser. 
 
 During the last weeks of his stay in France, the idea 
 had first come to him whilst reading the legends of 
 Tannhduser and Lohengrin by the old minnesinger Wol- 
 fram von Eschenbach, and he was attracted by the 
 thought of what might be made of the song-contests 
 at the Wartburg. From this time forward, abandon- 
 ing the scarcely-outlined sketch of a poem on Manfred, 
 he broke away, once for all, from historical subjects, 
 which chained him with a thousand fetters, in order 
 henceforth to treat subjects of a purely human interest, 
 which alone seemed to justify the simultaneous use of 
 poetry and musical language. 
 
 In 1844 he had been appointed head of a committee 
 formed in Dresden to bring over the remains of Weber, 
 v ho died in London in 1826. For this occasion he 
 composed a Funeral March on two motive of Euryanthe, 
 and a chorus for male voices, which produced an excellent 
 effect. 
 
 Under the influence of these ceremonies, in which his
 
 32 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 feelings were so deeply concerned, he completed the 
 music of Tannbauser in 1845 ( not as li iS now played, 
 for he afterwards altered it very materially : for instance, 
 more has been made of the scene of the Venusberg ; he 
 also extended the last scene of the third act). 
 
 The Dresden theatre hastened to mount the work 
 with magnificent decorations and mise en scene; but, like 
 The Fixing Dutchman, it did not appeal to the taste of 
 the public, who had hoped to see the composer return to 
 that species of composition which had brought him such 
 success with Rienzi, and the seventh performance was 
 reached only with great difficulty. The role of Tann- 
 bauser was sung by Tichatschek, and it fatigued him. 
 From a sense of duty Mme. Devrient had accepted the 
 role of Venus, though persuaded that she could make 
 nothing of it. The character of Elizabeth was given to 
 a debutante, 'Johanna JVagner, the author's niece. 
 
 The failure of Tannbauser was a great blow to 
 Wagner, who had flattered himself that he would win 
 over the public without sacrificing anything on his side. 
 He wrote: "A feeling of complete isolation took pos- 
 session of me. It was not my vanity ; I had deceived 
 myself with my eyes open, and now I was quite stunned 
 by it. I had only one thought : to bring the public to 
 understand and to share in my views, and to accomplish 
 its artistic education." 
 
 Musicians were no more indulgent to him than the 
 public. Mendelssohn, Spohr, and Schumann sharply 
 criticised the work, whilst recognising that here and there 
 it contained some good things. Schumann even went 
 so far as to write on this subject in 1853 : " ^ ' s tne 
 empty and unplcasing music of an amateur! " Spohr, at 
 the same period, acknowledges, however, that "the opera 
 contains certain new and fine things, which at first I
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 33 
 
 did not like, and to which I became accustomed on 
 repeated hearings." 
 
 The following year, 1846, was full of many new 
 cares of all kinds for Wagner ; the publication of his 
 operas Rienzi, The Flying Dutchman, and Tannbauser led 
 him into disastrous financial complications; then at this 
 epoch he plunged into politics and made many enemies ; 
 the press became more and more severe on him and in- 
 fluenced the directors of the theatre, who refused to play 
 his works, regarding him as eccentric and difficult to get 
 on with. 
 
 Then, retiring for a time from political agitation, he 
 took up again with energy his new work Lohengrin, 
 barely outlined in 1845, the subject of which, like that 
 of Tannbauser, had been taken from Wolfram von 
 Eschenbach. He worked at it, fully realising that he 
 was going farther away than ever from the prevailing 
 taste of the public, at that time solely infatuated with 
 Donizetti's operas. Moreover, so much of his time was 
 taken up by the Dresden theatre, that the completion or 
 the work was indefinitely postponed, and the only portion 
 which can be referred to this period is the finale of the 
 first act, performed in September, 1848, for the anniver- 
 sary of the inauguration of the royal chapel. 
 
 As soon as the score of Lohengrin was finished, Wagner 
 thought of writing a drama on Jesus von Nazareth, but 
 he abandoned the idea (though he used its mystical theme 
 in after years in another form), and vacillated for the 
 last time between an historical subject, Friedricb Rothbart, 
 and a purely mvthical one, Siegfried, the germs of which 
 he found in the old poem of the Nibelungen and in the 
 Scandinavian Eddas. 
 
 He chose the myth, and thenceforth worked on the 
 poem of Siegfrieds Tod; but his work was suspended 
 
 3
 
 34 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 during the political troubles which then broke out in 
 Germany. 
 
 He elaborated a complete plan of reforms which 
 tended towards nothing else than an entire revolution of 
 musical affairs in Saxony. 
 
 At this period he became connected with August 
 Roeckel and with the revolutionist, Bakounine, who 
 rapidly gained great influence over him. Throwing 
 himself with his habitual ardour into militant politics, at 
 a club of which he was a member he made many impru- 
 dent speeches which gave great offence in high quarters 
 as coming from a Kapellmeister of the Court ! 
 
 Justly fearing trouble in Dresden, he went to Weimar 
 to join Liszt, who was then actively directing the re- 
 hearsals of Tannhauser, and with whom he had close 
 relations, notwithstanding the aversion which he had 
 vowed in his youth to the virtuosi in general, and to 
 Liszt in particular. But his peace was immediately dis- 
 turbed by an order for his arrest : he was marked out as 
 a dangerous agitator ! Liszt quickly obtained a passport 
 for him under a fictitious name, and he had to leave his 
 country in great haste. His exile, which thus began, 
 was to last for twelve years. 
 
 First he directed his steps to Paris, where he hoped to 
 get his works represented. But what theatre would be 
 disposed to mount a tragedy at such a time ? He also 
 tried to publish a series of articles upon artistic and revolu- 
 tionary subjects, in which he would elaborate the thoughts 
 which were working in his brain. But his proposition 
 was very coldly received by the editor of the Journal des 
 D'ebats, to whom he applied. Seeing that there was noth- 
 ing for him in Paris, he left in June, 1849, for Zurich, 
 where his wife joined him, and where he found many of 
 his friends, political refugees like himself.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 35 
 
 The life of an exile was not hard for him ; he became 
 a citizen of Zurich, and soon met with enlightened and 
 sympathetic people who surrounded him with an atmos- 
 phere of intelligence and devotion. This was one of the 
 most profitable and productive periods of his life. In 
 this calm retreat, where he entirely recovered himself, his 
 genius, soaring with each new production, at length found' 
 its definite form and attained its highest expression. 
 From his first work conceived in exile, to the last, Tra- 
 tan, he marches with a giant's stride. He has, at last, 
 found his true path, and henceforth has nothing to do 
 but continue in it. 
 
 Feeling the need of making his political and socialist 
 theories known and leaving musical composition alone 
 for a time, he successively published several articles : 
 Die Kunst und die Revolution and Das Kunstwerk der 
 Zukwift. At last, in 1850, in the Neue Zeitschrift fur 
 Musik of Leipzig, there appeared an article entitled Das 
 "Judenthum in der Musik, signed Freigedank, but in this 
 every one rightly recognized Wagner's style and ideas. 
 This article had a varied reception, and was violently 
 condemned by his enemies, who accused him of black 
 ingratitude to Meyerbeer, his protector in France as well 
 as Germany, who was especially singled out by him in 
 this virulent essay, which quickly agitated the musical 
 world. 
 
 These labours not sufficing for the Master's activity, 
 he, at the same time, composed a drama entitled Hit-land 
 der Schmiedt, intended for the Paris Opera, notwithstand- 
 ing the discourao-ino; receptions which he had there met 
 with on several occasions. At Liszt's advice he sent it 
 in early in 1850, and the fresh refusal which followed 
 produced a nervous illness. 
 
 During the same year Wagner finding among his
 
 36 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 sketches Lohengrin, which he had almost forgotten, he 
 submitted it to Liszt who was then in Weimar. Liszt 
 hastened to mount it at the festival of Goethe's anniver- 
 sary. The work made a great impression, although 
 after the first representation, the author, much against his 
 will, had to authorize several cuts. 
 
 The critics, who had been invited from every quarter, 
 were generally favourable to it, and it is from this epoch 
 that Wagner's fame in Germany really dates. Lohengrin 
 was played with success in many towns during the fol- 
 lowing years. 
 
 In a letter to his friend Roeckel, about 185 1, Wagner 
 says that his fame is increasing in a surprising manner, 
 but that he does not owe it to a comprehension of the 
 true spirit of his works, for the artists, like the public, 
 only see his effeminate side, appreciating neither the 
 majesty nor the mighty passion of the dramas. Two 
 years later, writing to the same friend, he rejoices " at 
 having no longer to work solely for money. Whatever 
 I undertake here (Zurich), I shall never make pay (a life 
 which I should never be able to lead elsewhere without 
 resources), for to follow art for money is exactly what 
 would alienate me forever from art, for that is, more- 
 over, the very thing that provokes so many errors on 
 the subject of the essence of artistic work." 
 
 At Zurich he conducted several symphony concerts in 
 the theatre of the citv assisted by his two young pupils, 
 Karl Ritter and Hans von Biilow, and applied himself to 
 his work on the Nibelungen. At first he intended to 
 treat only of the Death of Siegfried (which became at a 
 later period Die Gotterddmmerung), then afterwards, for the 
 sake of making the drama clear, he was led to write 
 successively Siegfried, then Die IValkiire, and finally Das 
 Rheingold, the Prologue to these three parts. In 1852,
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 37 
 
 his poems being finished, he gave a first reading of them 
 all (except the Prologue), on three evenings just before 
 Christmas at the house of his friend Wille, at Mariafeld, 
 near Zurich. Frau Wille relates in this connection that 
 on the last of these evenings, she, being called to the side 
 of one of her children who was ill, had to leave the room \ 
 for a moment, and that Wagner, offended at this breach 
 of etiquette, bestowed the name of Fricka 1 upon her 
 when she returned. Although essentially kind-hearted, 
 his nervous nature often made him irritable! 
 
 When over-excited, he would preferably use the 
 French language. 
 
 He commenced the music to his Tetralogy in 1853, 
 beginning with the Prologue. 
 
 DO O 
 
 He himself relates that during a sleepless night at 
 Spezia, while on a trip to Italy, he formed a clear plan 
 of the music for Das Rheingold, and, not wishing to write 
 it on Italian soil, he hastily returned to Zurich, where he 
 set to work. In May, 1854, Das Rheingold was finished. 
 He wrote the music of Die IValkiire in the winter of 
 1 854-1 855, and the first two acts of Siegfried in 1857. 
 Then followed a long interruption. He set aside the 
 Tetralogy for Tristan, which, at this period, was more in 
 unison with his state of mind. 
 
 While applying himself to this colossal work, Wagner 
 had engaged in many other occupations. He had 
 mounted Tannhduser in Zurich, and, in the course of a 
 long visit which Liszt paid him, he organized a concert 
 at Saint-Gall, in which he conducted the Symphony Eroica 
 and Liszt directed his symphonic poems of Orpheus and 
 Les Preludes. 
 
 At this period he had an offer to give some concerts 
 
 1 In the Tetralogy Fricka is the goddess of marriage, with a 
 disagrteable character. 
 
 v
 
 38 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 in America, but he declared that he was " not disposed to 
 go about as a concert-pedlar, even for a fabulous sum." 
 
 However, in January, 1855, he consented, "more out 
 of curiosity and to see what people there are doing," to 
 direct eight concerts of the " Philharmonic Society " in 
 London. He then formed very cordial relations with 
 Berlioz, who was at the same time conducting the 
 orchestral concerts of the " New Philharmonic Society." 
 A correspondence was established between them when 
 Wagner returned to Switzerland. 
 
 Prince Albert greatlv appreciated the music of the 
 German master, although the latter was very discreet in 
 introducing it into his programmes. After hearing the 
 overture to Tannbauser, which excited general enthu- 
 siasm, the Royal family summoned the author to their 
 box to receive their congratulations. The English press, 
 however, was hard upon him. Among other things it is 
 said they reproached him with conducting Beethoven's 
 Svmphonies from memory. Wagner, therefore, to please 
 his audience, appeared at the next concert with a score; 
 the public was perfectly satisfied, and claimed that the 
 execution was much better ; but what was the indigna- 
 tion of every one, when, later, it was seen that the score 
 was that of // Barbiere di Siviglia, and that it was upside 
 down on the desk ! 
 
 Wagner wrote to his friend Rceckel : u If anything 
 could increase my scorn of the world, it would be my 
 expcd':ion to London. Let me only brieflv say that I 
 am paving dearly for the foolishness of which I was 
 guilty in accepting this engagement, attracted as I was 
 by a silly curiosity, in spite of mv former experiences." 
 
 During his stay in London, the Master gave Klind- 
 worth the task of arranging his scores for the piano. 
 
 It was after his return from England that, although
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 39 
 
 suffering from frequent attacks of facial erysipelas, he 
 finished the instrumentation of Die Walkure ; and then, 
 frightened at the amount of work which remained to 
 complete Der Ring des Nibclungen, which he could sec no 
 possibility of getting represented on any stage, and want- 
 ing to write a work which would have some chance of 
 being easily performed, he diligently set to work upon 
 his poem of Tristan. 
 
 The little select circle in Zurich, which the Master 
 bned to frequent, included Wille, Gottfried Semper, and 
 the poet Herwegh, a fervent disciple and worshipper of 
 Schopenhauer. He drew Wagner's attention to the 
 ivorks of this philosopher, which made a great impression 
 upon him. It was under the influence of these ideas, as 
 well as of the state of his own mind at that time, that y 
 
 Wagner wrote his new drama, which he finished in 1859. ftp 1 
 
 It was first proposed to produce it at Karlsruhe, where \ U 
 the role of Tristan should be given to Schnorr, a young 
 tenor of the greatest talent, who had sworn an undying 
 devotion to Wagner's music. But the Master only 
 knew the singer by hearsay, and hesitated to accept as an 
 interpreter a person afflicted with excessive corpulence, 
 fearing that he would make a ridiculous effect upon the 
 stage. He relates in his Souvenirs that, being in Karls- 
 ruhe in 1852 when Schnorr was singing Lohengrin there, 
 and never having seen him, he went to hear him incog- 
 nito, and was so much impressed by the unusual intelli- 
 gence displayed by the artist from the very first notes of 
 his role, and being affected very much as he had been 
 in his youth by Mme. Schroeder-Devrient, he immedi- 
 ately wrote and invited Schnorr to visit him. Schnorr, 
 accompanied by his wife, then spent several weeks at 
 Biberich with the Master and Hans von Biilow, who had 
 joined them. Schnorr worked on the Ring, and even
 
 4 o THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 more on Tristan, which afterwards became one of his 
 finest parts. 
 
 Wagner's hopes of having Tristan represented at 
 Karlsruhe were speedily shattered, notwithstanding the 
 sympathetic interest displayed by the Grand Duke of 
 Baden. He neither obtained the permission to reside 
 definitely in the Baden dominions, nor to return to Ger- 
 many as he so much desired. 
 
 Turning his eyes again towards Paris, he arrived there 
 in September, 1859, w i tn tne h°P e °f g amnl g a hearing 
 for his work ; but he soon had to give up his idea of con- 
 fiding it to German interpreters. He also counted on 
 French versions of Tannhauser and Lohengrin. M. Car- 
 valho, the director of the. Theatre Lyrique, had some 
 thought of mounting Tannhauser. He even called one 
 evening in the Rue Matignon to see the composer, who 
 played the work to him, but could not manage to make 
 him understand its interest. 
 
 The Master, who, notwithstanding his increasing suc- 
 cesses in Germany, was hardly better known in Paris 
 than when he arrived there the first time, then determined, 
 as a means of presenting himself to the Parisian public 
 and of introducing his music, to give some concerts, 
 which he immediately organized in the Salle Ventadour. 
 The rehearsals were held in the Salle Beethoven, Passage 
 de l'Opera. Hans von Biilow conducted the choruses, 
 which were chiefly composed of German amateurs. 
 The programme included the overture to The Flying 
 Dutchman, several excerpts from Tannhauser and Lohen- 
 grin, and the prelude to Tristan. 
 
 Wagner attained his end and attracted the attention 
 of the dilettante world, but the financial results of the 
 first three concerts were small ; therefore, after finding 
 a deficit of 6000 francs, he did not accept the offer
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 41 
 
 which was made to him by the Marechal Magnan on the 
 part of the Tuileries for a fourth concert in the Salic de 
 l'Opera. He gave two concerts in Brussels, which 
 were not more fortunate in a pecuniary sense. 
 
 Very naturally he was beginning to feel much dis- 
 couraged, when an intelligent patronage brought him 
 unexpected support. Mme. de Metternich and several 
 members of the German colony in Paris so strongly in- 
 terested Napoleon III. in his favour that that sovereign, 
 usually indifferent to musical matters, gave orders to 
 mount Tannhauser at the Opera. At first the Master 
 was not enchanted at this news, for he had reason to 
 fear the public (greatly prejudiced by a hostile press), be- 
 fore whom he was going to produce his work ; however, 
 the management showed itself so generous on the ques- 
 tion of mise en scene, so eager to grant the author all the 
 rehearsals he desired and all the artists he wanted (the 
 German tenor, Niemann, who had a good French ac- 
 cent, was expressly engaged for the role of Tannhauser), 
 that Wagner took heart, and showed himself quite will- 
 ing to make any revisions that were demanded and which 
 he thought reasonable ; in particular, this is how the 
 scene of the Venusberg came to be extended. 
 
 A few weeks before the first performance, he had 
 thought it incumbent on him to explain his ideas on the 
 musical drama, ideas so new to the dilettante world of 
 Paris, and which he had already developed several years 
 before in his article entitled " Opera et Drame." He 
 therefore published a long, explicit, and interesting 
 " Lettre sur la Musique" which may be considered as 
 the Wagnerian profession of faith. 1 But his enemies, 
 
 1 This letter, addressed to M. Frederic Villot, and followed by 
 four poimes a" opSra : Le vaisseau fantdme, Tannhauser, Lohengrin^ 
 and Tristan et Iseult, is published by A. Durand et fils, 4 Place dc 
 la Madeleine.
 
 42 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 who were exceedingly bitter against him and incapable 
 of comprehending the artistic sincerity and exalted views 
 of this mind so devoted to the true and beautiful, only 
 saw in it the presumption of an unlimited conceit. 
 
 Is it necessary to recall here the incidents which are 
 still fresh in every memory : the exactions of the man- 
 ager, who, to please his subscribers, wanted a ballet in 
 the very middle of the action ; the author's natural re- 
 sistance, and the cabal led by the members of an influ- 
 ential club and a few journalists, who worked so well 
 and successfully that, despite the very evident sympathy 
 of the Emperor and his Court, despite the marked inter- 
 est of the majority of the public, the work failed at its 
 third representation ? 
 
 How many are there among the survivors of that un- 
 intelligent coterie, who, while still failing to understand 
 the genius of the Master, now go into raptures when 
 they hear the duet of Tristan or the prelude to Parsifal'' 
 But at that time it was not fashionable to appreciate 
 Wagner ; and the great artist, refusing with dignity to 
 impose his work any longer on a public incapable of 
 being interested by it, withdrew his score and returned 
 to Germany, which had, meanwhile, been opened to him 
 by the successful efforts of his devoted protectors. 
 
 How can we be surprised if Wagner subsequently 
 harboured some bitterness against a public whose favour 
 he had sought so often, who had at first received him 
 with ignorant indifference, very galling to a genius con- 
 scious of his own worth, and who had finally treated 
 him with an inhospitable harshness, very nearlv approach- 
 ing brutality ? Let us sav, in passing, that Wagner, not- 
 withstanding the popular legend which has formed and 
 which has so long kept us from knowing and admiring 
 his work in our country, was never guilty of the mali-
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 43 
 
 cious sallies against France which have been attributed 
 to him. Those who wish to be convinced have only to 
 read his letter to M. Monod ; let them also examine his 
 skit called Une Capitulation, for which he has been so 
 much condemned ; they may find it a dull and dubious 
 kind of wit, but they will see that it was only a joke, a 
 jest in bad taste, directed as much against his own 
 countrymen as against ours. Moreover, he did not 
 write it for publication, and consequently had no inten- 
 tion of offending us. It was not printed until many 
 years after the war, and then in German. 
 
 In order to understand it, we must aiso take into 
 account the character of the Master, singularly fiery 
 and carried as readily to an excess of impetuous gaiety 
 when his good-humoured wit spared no one, as to 
 melancholy moods in which he despaired of everything 
 and was profoundly unhappy. In this connection let 
 us cite M. Monod's interesting analysis: "He exer- 
 cises an irresistible ascendency over all who approach 
 him, not only by his musical genius, the originality 
 of his mind, and his varied knowledge, but above 
 all by his strength of temperament and will, which 
 shines through his entire personality. In his presence 
 there is a feeling as though some force of nature were at 
 work and were breaking loose with almost irresponsible 
 violence. When we know him intimately we find him 
 sometimes, in unrestrained gaiety, giving vent to a torrent 
 of jokes and laughter, — sometimes furious, respecting 
 in his attacks neither titles, nor powers, nor friend- 
 ships, always obeying the irresistible impulse of the 
 moment, and we end by not reproaching him too severely 
 for the lack of taste, tact, and delicacy of which he has 
 been guilty ; we are tempted, if Jews, to pardon his 
 brochure on Judaisme dans la musique ; if French, his
 
 44 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 buffoonery on La capitulation de Paris ; if German, all 
 the insults with which he has overwhelmed Germany ; 
 just as we pardon Voltaire, La Pucelle and certain letters 
 to Frederick II.; Shakespeare, certain jests and sonnets; 
 Goethe, certain pieces of ridicule ; and Victor Hugo, 
 certain discourses. We must take him as he is, full of 
 defects, perhaps because he is full of genius, but incon- 
 testably a remarkable man, one of the greatest and most 
 extraordinary our century has produced." 
 
 Mme. Judith Gautier, who was a constant guest at 
 Triebschen, 1 and had vowed an undying admiration for 
 the Master, also says : " We must recognise that the 
 character of Richard Wagner contains violent moods and 
 many asperities, which often cause him to be misunder- 
 stood, but only by those who judge by appearances. 
 Nervous and impressionable to excess, his feelings always 
 run to extremes ; a small trouble with him almost 
 becomes despair, the least irritation has the appearance 
 of fury. This marvellous organisation, so exquisitely 
 sensitive, is in a constant state of tremour; we even 
 wonder how he can restrain himself at all. One day of 
 trouble ages him ten years ; but when joy returns the 
 next day, he is younger than ever. He is extremely 
 prodigal of his strength. Always sincere, entirelv devot- 
 ing himself to so many things, and, moreover, of a very 
 versatile mind, his opinions and ideas, always positive at 
 first, are by no means irrevocable ; no one is ever more 
 willing than he to acknowledge an error; but the first 
 heat must be allowed to pass. By the freedom and 
 vehemence of his words, it often happens that he unin- 
 tentionally wounds his best friends ; always in extremes, 
 he goes beyond all bounds, and is unconscious of the 
 
 1 Wagner's house on the Lake of the Quatre Cantons, facing 
 Lucerne.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 45 
 
 pain he causes. Many people, wounded in their vanity, 
 go away without saying anything of the hurt which 
 rankles, and they thus lose a precious friendship; whilst, 
 if they had cried out that they had been hurt, they would 
 have seen the Master so full of sincere regret, and he 
 would have tried with such earnest efforts to console 
 them, that their love for him would have increased." 
 
 To complete these two portraits, let us add one 
 drawn in a recent publication by M. Emile Ollivier, the 
 brother-in-law of Richard Wagner : " The double as- 
 pect of this powerful personality was shown in his face; 
 the upper part beautiful with a vast ideality and lighted 
 with eyes which were reflective, deep, severe, gentle, or 
 malicious according to circumstances ; the lower part 
 wry and sarcastic ; a mouth cold, calculating, and 
 pursed-up, was cut slantingly into the face beneath an 
 imperious nose, above a chin which projected like the 
 menace of a conquering will." 
 
 Wagner in 1 861 entered his own country with a 
 constantly increasing desire to have Tristan represented ; 
 but, notwithstanding the renown which he had acquired 
 during these last years, augmented by his much-talked-of 
 defeat in Paris, which gained for him a newly-awakened 
 sympathy among his compatriots, no manager cared to 
 mount his work. The Grand Duke of Baden, after 
 having shown himself well-disposed toward the work, 
 lost interest in it, and at Vienna, where rehearsals were 
 in progress, it was abandoned at the fifty-seventh one, 
 on the pretext that the strength of the tenor, Ander, 
 had given out. 
 
 The years which followed were among the most 
 troublous ones of the Master's life. Everything con- 
 spired to distress him : the great disappointment caused
 
 46 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 by the ill-luck of Tristan, and the isolation of his life, 
 for his hearth was now deserted and his household 
 broken up ; his wife, a good and devoted creature, but 
 of the earth earthy, was not able to comprehend his 
 genius, and thus there were constant disagreements, 
 which finally ended in a separation. 
 
 Several years later, malevolent reports about Wagner 
 were circulated on this subject: he was accused of leav- 
 ing his wife without resources, but a few days before 
 her death she herself wrote to contradict these calumnies, 
 attesting, on the contrary, that her husband had always 
 furnished her with quite sufficient remittances. 
 
 Fresh pecuniary embarrassments pursued him, for his 
 operas brought him very little money, in accordance 
 with the usual arrangements in Germany between thea- 
 tres and authors. At last, however, he had the satisfac- 
 tion of seeing Lohengrin represented in Vienna in the 
 month of May. It was then that he began to write 
 the poem and to work on the score of Die Meistersinger, 
 the first sketch of which he had committed to paper in 
 1845, immediately after the completion of Tannbauser, 
 to which he wished to make a comic pendant. 
 
 The poem of Die Meistersinger was finished in Paris 
 during a short stay that Wagner made there in 1862, 
 and was immediately published by the house of Schott 
 in Mayence, which had already negotiated with the 
 Master for Der Ring des Nibelungen. But the music, with 
 which he began to occupy himself from this moment, 
 was not finished until 1867. 
 
 The whole year 1863 was employed by Wagner in 
 travelling through Germany and Russia and giving con- 
 certs which somewhat repaired the state of his finances. 
 The Grand Duchess Helene, who was an intelligent 
 musician and a passionate admirer of his works, greatly 
 contributed to his success in Russia.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 47 
 
 On his programmes figured Beethoven's Symphonies 
 and some fragments of the Meistersinger and the Ring. 
 He also performed in Vienna, with very great success, 
 the overture to Freiscbutz as it was originally written 
 by Weber, and as it is never given. On his return 
 from his visit to Russia, Wagner established himself in 
 Penzig, in the environs of Vienna, where he lived 
 quietly with his two servants and his faithful dog. 
 (Wagner always had a passionate love for animals. He 
 says : " I am more and more deeply moved at our rela- 
 tions with animals, which are so horribly maltreated and 
 tortured by us ; I am happy above all to be able to-day 
 to indulge without shame the strong compassion which 
 I have at all times felt for them, and to be no longer 
 forced to have recourse to sophisms to try to palliate the 
 wickedness of man on this question.") Indispensable 
 measures of economy compelled him to abandon this 
 abode ; he went to ask shelter of his friends in Zurich, 
 with the intention of finishing his Meistersinger there. 
 
 As for the Tetralogv, at this time he had totally aban- 
 doned the hope of ever seeing it represented (the ideal the- 
 atre, which his dreams had pictured long ago and which 
 he believed would never exist, was needed for that), and 
 had published the poem in 1853 as a literary work, with- 
 out taking any further trouble to complete the music. 
 
 It was in 1864, that, having drunk deeply of every 
 kind of bitterness, having at last arrived at the lowest 
 depths of discouragement and feeling he could no longer 
 struggle against it, there came into his life that unheard- 
 of and unhoped-for patronage, which, changing the cur- 
 rent of his destiny as with the touch of a wand, permitted 
 him to take a new flight, henceforth freed from all the 
 miserable fetters in which his genius had so long been 
 struggling.
 
 48 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 The young Louis II. of Bavaria, who had become 
 king at the age of nineteen on the death of his uncle 
 Maximilian II., an ardent and passionate admirer of the 
 Master, whose works he had studied to the exclusion of 
 all others, fifteen days after his accession hastened to 
 call the great artist to his side, and, bv removing all 
 difficulties of a sordid and material nature from his path, 
 enabled him to finish his abandoned Njbelungen and to 
 have his other works magnificently represented. 
 
 He relates this event on the same dav, May 4, 1864, 
 to his friend, Mme. Wille at Zurich in these words : 
 " You know that the young King of Bavaria has sent for 
 me ; I have been presented to him to-day. Unfortu- 
 nately he is so handsome, so intelligent, so enthusiastic, 
 and so great, that I fear lest in this vulgar world his life 
 should fade away like a fugitive and heavenly dream. 
 He loves me with the ardour and fervour of first love ; 
 he knows and understands all that concerns me. He 
 wishes to' have me live near him always, that I may 
 work and rest and have my works represented ; he 
 wishes to give me everything I need ; he wants me to 
 finish the Nibelungen, and to have it represented exactly as 
 I desire. He comprehends it all seriously and literally, 
 just as you and I do when we are talking together. All 
 pecuniary burdens are lifted from me ; I shall have 
 everything I need, on the sole condition that I stay by 
 his side. What do you say to that ? What have vou to 
 say about it? Is it not unheard-of? Can it be any- 
 thing but a dream ? " 
 
 Wagner's first care, in gratitude to the king, was to 
 become a naturalized Bavarian and to compose a military 
 march, Huldigungsmarsck, in honour of his sovereign ; 
 then, at the request of his royal friend, he elaborated a 
 plan for a national school of music to be established in
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 49 
 
 Munich; but this project was never put into execution, 
 on account of the ill-will of the musicians of that city. 
 In the year 1864 he had The Flying Dutch/nan per- 
 formed in the capital of Bavaria, and conducted con- 
 certs composed entirely of his own works ; but the 
 Bavarians, already discontented and uneasy at the extra- 
 ordinary favour shown to the composer, whose influence 
 over the king they feared, would not go to hear them, 
 and the room remained almost emptv. However, his 
 royal patron, not troubling himself about these hostile 
 manifestations, now actively turned his thoughts to the 
 erection of the theatre dreamed of by Wagner, studying 
 the plans with Gottfried Semper, the Master's friend. 
 Then, by paying a forfeit to the manager of the theatre 
 in Dresden, he made Schnorr and his wife come to sing 
 Tristan. He took advantage of the presence of this in- 
 comparable interpreter to have a splendid and unique 
 performance of Tannhauser. 
 
 The rehearsals for Tristan were directed with the 
 greatest authoritv by Hans von Biilow, the Master's 
 disciple and friend, who, by Wagner's influence, was at 
 this time appointed pianist to the king of Bavaria. The 
 performance, which took place in 1865, was superb. 
 Wagner now knew the deep and intense satisfaction of 
 hearing his work given according to his dreams and de- 
 sires. Schnorr interpreted the role of Tristan with such 
 intelligence and intensity of emotion that Wagner, stirred 
 to the depths of his soul, declared, after the fourth repre- 
 sentation, that he never wished another, and refused to let 
 his friend exhaust himself with such superhuman efforts. 
 Schnorr, who, during the third act on the last evening, 
 had contracted rheumatism, caused by the draughts of 
 the stage, died fifteen days afterwards in Dresden, and 
 thus deprived the Master's works of their best interpreter. 
 
 4
 
 5 o THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 Meanwhile, the cabal organized against the king's 
 protege became very threatening, and the sovereign was 
 forced, on November 30th, 1865, to send the great 
 artist away for a time to calm people's minds. How- 
 ever, it seems certain that he had no influence over the 
 king with regard to politics ; whenever he broached that 
 subject (he himself has told us), the king stared into 
 vacancv and began to whistle. What the people had 
 more reason to fear was the excessive expenditure into 
 which he led the sovereign. 
 
 Wagner, whose nervous system was very much run 
 down and needed rest, took a short trip to the south of 
 France and Switzerland, and settled at Triebschen, near 
 Lucerne. For all that, the King did not abandon his 
 protege, and came to see him in the strictest incognito. 
 
 The Master took advantage of this period of rest to 
 write articles in the paper of his old friend, August 
 Roeckel: he published a brochure on Deutsche Kunst und 
 Deutsche Politik, and finished his score of Die Meister- 
 singer. It was at this time that Hans von Biilow intro- 
 duced to the Master a young musician of great ability, 
 Hans Richter, who acted as his faithful and devoted sec- 
 retary, and afterwards became one of his most wonderful 
 aids at the performances in Munich and Bavreuth. 
 
 The first representation of Die Meistersinger took place 
 in Munich in June, 1868. Wagner had confided the 
 rehearsals of his work to his friend Biilow, who acquitted 
 himself of his task with the most intelligent devotion. 
 Nevertheless, the Master was able to be present at the 
 last rehearsals and at the six performances, which gained 
 an enthusiastic success. 
 
 He then applied himself diligently to the composition 
 of the music of the Ring, which he had abandoned in 1857 
 in the middle of the second act of Siegfried. He finished
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 5i 
 
 Siegfried in 1 869, and the first act of Gotterddmmerung in 
 1870 ; but the whole work was not finished until 1874. 
 There was thus a lapse of twenty-two years between 
 the first draft and the completion of the 7'etralogy. It 
 is true that Tristan and Die Meistersinger come in the 
 interval. 
 
 In 1870, Wagner, having been freed five years pre- 
 viously by the death of his first wife, married Mme. Hans 
 von Biilow, the daughter of his friend, Liszt. 
 
 The following year she presented him with a son, 
 whom he called Siegfried, the name of his favourite hero. 
 On the occasion of the christening; of the child, who 
 had Mme. Judith Gautier for his godmother, a delightful 
 family fete was held at Triebschen : in the garden of the 
 villa the Master had hidden a little select orchestra con- 
 ducted by Hans Richter, which, at the moment that 
 Mme. Wagner appeared on the porch, began to play a 
 delicious piece composed by the happy father on an old 
 German cradle-song and four Leit-motive, which are 
 woven together in the third act of Siegfried ; Peace, Sleep, 
 Siegfried Treasure of the JVorld, and The Decision to Love. 
 This piece was published in 1877 under the name of the 
 Siegfried- Idy 11. 
 
 King Louis II., impatient to hear Rheingold, de- 
 manded a performance of it in Munich, notwithstanding 
 the difficulties of mise en scene and representation which 
 arose. The result was disappointing, and the work, in- 
 comprehensible to a public unprepared for it, was coldlv 
 received. The following year Die 11 'alkure was much 
 more successful ; but these performances only served to 
 increase the desire of both the Master and his royal patron 
 to build a special theatre in which the entire Tetralogy 
 could be given. 
 
 After having published his two studies, Ueber das Dirt' 
 
 \ 

 
 52 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 giren and Beethoven, Wagner travelled through the coun- 
 try looking for the most suitable site for his theatre. 
 
 The Master's life during the years which followed, so 
 intimately bound up with the history of the Theatre of 
 Bayreuth, will be traced at the end of this chapter. Let 
 us say, however, that in 1875 Wagner had the satisfac- 
 tion of hearing Tannh'auser and Lohengrin performed in 
 Vienna in' their entirety. He himself directed the re- 
 hearsals. Tristan was also given with equal success in 
 Berlin in 1876. In 1877 the series of concerts which 
 he consented to direct in London alternately with his 
 collaborateur, Hans Richter, resulted in many marks of 
 sympathy from the royal family, and an enthusiastic re- 
 ception by the London public, who also highly appre- 
 ciated his talented lieutenant. He had his Kaisermarsch 
 performed with success, and some fragments of all his 
 works. But the pecuniary result was not very brilliant, 
 nor did it correspond to the efforts made. 
 
 In 1877 Wagner had written the poem of Parsifal, 
 borrowed from the legend of the Grail as sung by the 
 old trouveres, the first idea of which had come into his 
 mind in 1852 in Zurich when he was projecting his 
 Jesus von Nazareth. He took this new poem to London, 
 and read it to a small circle of friends in the house of 
 Mr. Edward Dannreuther, his friend and faithful histo- 
 riographer (from whose remarkable biographical study 
 many points have been taken for this brief sketch of the 
 Master's life). He composed the music for the first two 
 acts of Parsifal in the course of the year 1878 •, the Pre- 
 lude was performed at an entertainment of intimate 
 friends in Bavreuth at Christmas; and he finished the 
 third act in 1879. 
 
 Considerations of health (he suffered cruelly from a 
 painful erysipelas], forced him to pass his winters in
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 53 
 
 Italy, and at Palermo, in 1882, he finished the orchestra- 
 tion of this work, which he felt would he his last. 
 
 The Festival-Theatre, which had been closed since 
 1876, was opened so that Parsifal might be represented. 
 
 aLo=c^El -_f— ■ - 
 
 VENDRAMIN-CALERG1 PALACE, VENICE, WHERE WAGNER DIED 
 
 The sixteen performances which were given went mar- 
 vellously and had the greatest success. On the last 
 evening the Master gave himself the pleasure of taking 
 the baton from the hands of the distinguished director, 
 Hermann Levi, and conducted the work himself.
 
 54 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 A new series of performances took place in the follow- 
 ing year ; they greatly fatigued the Master, who in the 
 course of the rehearsals on one occasion had a serious 
 attack of strangulation. An afFection of the heart, which 
 the doctor concealed from him, was slowly undermining 
 him. He went to Venice with his wife and family early 
 in the winter of 1 882-1 883 and established himself in 
 the Vendramin-Calergi Palace, one of the most splendid 
 Venetian residences on the Grand Canal. 
 
 It was there that a fatal attack suddenly carried him 
 off on February 13, 1883, at the moment when, leaving 
 the piano, where he had just been playing and singing 
 the first scene of Rheingold, he was about to take his daily 
 outing in his gondola. 
 
 The body was borne with great pomp to Bayreuth, 
 where his friends and admirers buried him in a solemn 
 and impressive manner. He was accompanied to his 
 last resting-place by the solemn and majestic notes of 
 Siegfried's Funeral March. 
 
 Now he rests under a simple stone without anv in- 
 scription, guarded by his faithful dog, Russ, buried under 
 a neighbouring hillock, and among the vet V T shadows of his 
 villa, Wahnfried, not far from that Theaf e which seems 
 to be at once the symbol and the fruit of his aspiration, 
 that Theatre which was the work of his whole life, and 
 over which the pilgrim who comes to Bayreuth feels the 
 spirit of his colossal genius still brooding 
 
 HISTORY OF THE THEATRE 
 
 The idea of building a model theatre, specially in- 
 tended for the performance of his great dramas and ex- 
 pressly constructed with this end in view, had been 
 working in Wagner's mind long before he was enabled 
 to put it into execution.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 55 
 
 As early as 1836 in a Communication a mes a?nis, we 
 find Wagner declaring that henceforth he will write no 
 more pieces de repertoire, and that he has a great desire 
 to see his works represented in " one fixed place and 
 under special conditions." 
 
 In 1853, a ft el " the success of his concerts in Zurich, 
 he had already conceived the idea of establishing a theatre 
 in Switzerland, of temporary construction but appropriate 
 to all his needs, where he could have all of his works, 
 including the Tetralogy of the Ring, represented for a 
 year, as we find in a letter dated Zurich, June 8, 1853, 
 and addressed to his friend, Roeckel, a political prisoner 
 at Waldheim, who was then an exile like himself. 
 
 Later in 1862, in the preface to Der Ring des Nibe- 
 lungen, still more clearly he expresses the wish to con- 
 struct a new theatre for holding theatrical festivals, and 
 there he announces the idea that private co-operation 
 would be needed, and, above all, the distinguished patron- 
 age of a sovereign : a curious presentiment, for two years 
 aftet wards, in 1864, the accession of King Louis II. to 
 the throne of Bavaria, at the age of nineteen, crowned 
 his wishes. From 1865 to 1870 Tristan, Die Meistcr- 
 singer, Das Rheingold, and Die JFalkiire were performed in 
 Munich. Then the construction of a Festival-Theatre 
 was decided on in principle ; the King wanted it in 
 Munich ; Wagner did not. 
 
 However, in 1867, his very talented friend, the architect, 
 Gottfried Semper, had been commissioned by King Loihn 
 II. to make drawings carrying out Wagner's ideas; but 
 Semper only understood magnificent proportions and noble 
 and imposing forms; he therefore produced a plan of such 
 magnitude that the king himself was alarmed at the exor- 
 bitant expenditure into which he would be drawn, — an 
 expenditure far above the resources of the royal treasury.
 
 56 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 Wagner then had to recognize that, notwithstanding 
 all his prestige-, the king's support was still insufficient, 
 and, to gain his end, he made up his mind to address 
 himself to the entire German nation, by playing upon its 
 artistic pride. 
 
 It was in the month of May, 1 87 1, that, after having 
 travelled through and examined many places, he visited 
 for the first time the pretty little town of Bayreuth, 
 which captivated him at first sight. He then took 
 counsel with good friends and practical men, particu- 
 larly MM. Feustel and Gross, who obtained from the 
 municipality a free grant of the land necessary for the erec- 
 tion of the Theatre and his house, 1 and it was on the 
 9th of November of the same year that in Mr. Feustel's 
 house, situated near the station between the Hirschen- 
 strasse and the A-littelstrasse, a house henceforth historic, 
 it was decided that the Festival-Theatre should be built 
 in Bayreuth, and nowhere else. 
 
 The architect Semper was again commissioned to 
 prepare definite plans. Nothing but the money was 
 wanting, and the estimated cost was 1,125,000 francs. 
 
 But Wagner was not a man to be discouraged by such 
 a small thing. At that time, through all artistic Ger- 
 many, nothing was talked of but his writings and mani- 
 festos; his concerts attracted crowded audiences, and the 
 performances of his last works had obtained the most bril- 
 liant success. Wagnerian societies were formed; he pro- 
 fited from this effervescence, and, at the advice, it is said, 
 of one of his most enthusiastic admirers, the pianist Tau- 
 sig, he issued 1,000 shares at 1,125 francs each, by which 
 
 1 The town has had no cause to repent of this intelligent and 
 artistic bounty ; it reaps its reward from the visitors who are at- 
 tracted by the Festivals. They have caused a veritable resurrection 
 for it.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 57 
 
 means the original subscriber acquired the right of attend- 
 ing the three complete series of the Tetralogy of four 
 evenings each. The shares might be divided into three, 
 each third admitting the holder to one series. 
 
 The council of administration had for its president 
 Friedrich Feustel, the rich banker of Southern Ger- 
 many, and was composed of Adolphe Gross; Theodor 
 Muncker, of Bayreuth ; Emil Heckel, of Mannheim ; 
 and Friedrich Schoen, of Worms. 
 
 One of these, Herr Heckel, had founded in Mannheim 
 the first Wagnerian association, and had gained the con- 
 viction that many people, finding it impossible to spend 
 1,125 f'' ancs 5 would, nevertheless, be willing to come to 
 the aid of the work according to their means. There- 
 fore the council of administration, becoming the com- 
 mittee of patronage, encouraged and instigated the for- 
 mation of Wagnerian societies, not only in Germany, 
 but throughout the world, in France, Russia, Holland, 
 Belgium, Sweden, England, Italy, Egypt, and the United 
 States, whose mission was to collect subscriptions, no 
 matter how small they might be, for the triple represen- 
 tation of Der Ring des Nibelungen : the one end in view 
 was the threefold performance of the Tetralogy. 
 
 Hardly had one-third of the total sum necessary been 
 collected, when they proceeded to the laying of the 
 foundation stone of the Festival-Theatre, which was 
 performed with great solemnity by Wagner himself. 
 This took place May 22, 1872 (on the fifty-ninth 
 anniversary of Wagner's birth). 
 
 On this occasion a concert was given in the fine hall 
 of the old Margraves of Bayreuth ; the Kaisermarscb 
 was played and Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, with 
 some additions, which were perhaps not quite respectful ; 
 but this is a detail.
 
 5 8 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 More than four hundred German artists, singers as 
 well as instrumentalists, gathered at this imposing cere- 
 mony, at the end of which Wagner addressed a veritable 
 proclamation to this little world of artists. 
 
 The work was immediately begun undei the direction 
 of the architects Runkwitz and Briickwald, but money 
 was lacking and subscriptions ceased to arrive ; without 
 a moment's hesitation, Wagner travelled through Ger- 
 many giving concerts in the large cities, which brought 
 him about two hundred and fifty thousand francs, a con- 
 cert in Pesth with Liszt, and several in Vienna ; and, 
 furthermore, he accepted the order to compose a Festival- 
 March for the opening of the Universal Exposition in 
 Philadelphia in 1876, which paid him twenty-five thou- 
 sand francs ; all this went to the Bavreuth fund, but it 
 would have still been insufficient without fresh generos- 
 ity on the part of Louis II., who advanced the sum that 
 was wanting, reserving the right to reimburse himself 
 when the shares were finally sold. 
 
 It is thus only after forty years of struggles and in- 
 cessant efForts that Wagner saw the realization of the 
 colossal project which had been germinating in his mind 
 since 1836, and perhaps before. This is a fine lesson 
 of perseverance and a good subject for meditation for 
 those who are too easily discouraged. 
 
 The first rehearsals lasted two full months, Julv and 
 August, 1875, and were renewed in 1876, from the 3rd 
 of June to the 6th of July ; then only it was that the 
 success of the enterprise might be definitely regarded as 
 certain, and the dates of the general rehearsals and the 
 performances were fixed ; then also for the first time 
 was seen the comforting spectacle of convinced artists, 
 abandoning their lucrative employment, or sacrificing 
 their vacation to enroll themselves under the banner of
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 59 
 
 the New Art, and thus setting the example of that 
 spirit of abnegation and that sacrifice of all personal 
 pretension which have remained, and should remain, 
 characteristic of the artist at Bayreuth. 
 
 The general rehearsals were to begin on the 6th of 
 August. On the 5th the King of Bavaria, that almost 
 miraculous patron, had arrived, being anxious to be 
 present at every one of them. He would have liked to be 
 the only person present ; but after the beginning of the 
 first rehearsal he had to give up this selfish wish (the 
 emptiness of the theatre interfered with the tone effects) ; 
 and, with the best grace, he consented that the doors 
 should be opened to everybody. A general scramble 
 followed which necessitated the intervention of the police. 
 This incident suggested to the management the idea of 
 charging admission for the remaining rehearsals, which 
 resulted in the unexpected receipt of about 24,000 
 francs. 
 
 The three representations of the Tetralogy took place, 
 as had been announced: the first from the 13th to the 
 1 6th of August ; the second from the 20th to the 23rd ; 
 the third from the 27th to the 30th ; each of which began 
 on a Sunday and ended on a Wednesday, and was 
 separated from the following by three days of rest, a 
 tradition which has been preserved at Bayreuth ever 
 since. 
 
 But if the artistic success was great, it was otherwise 
 with the financial result, for the total deficit was 187,500 
 francs (150,000 marks), the expenses having been much 
 greater than had been anticipated. This deficit could 
 not in any wav affect the subscribers, who had filled 
 their engagements, and it fell entirely upon Wagner. 
 This fresh disaster had to be repaired. Wagner left 
 for London in the spring of 1877, to give a series of
 
 bo THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 concerts, which was always a trouble to him ; moreover, 
 he allowed an impresario, whose name has escaped me, 
 to take possession of the scenery of the Tetralogy and 
 hawk it about from city to city; this scenery was very 
 beautiful, and it must have been heart-breaking for him 
 to abandon it in this way. 1 All this did not suffice; 
 the generosity of the young King of Bavaria and several 
 of the original founders had to intervene, and at length 
 Wagner found himself free from his embarrassments, 
 with the satisfaction, thanks to his tenacious persever- 
 ance, of having loyally accomplished, without losing 
 heart, the dream of his life, the creation of the Festival- 
 Theatre, and the complete representation of his Tetralogy. 
 
 But for six years, until 1882, it was impossible to 
 open the Theatre for want of money, despite the excellent 
 management of the council of administration. 
 
 During his life Wagner saw his Theatre open only 
 three times: in 1876 for the inauguration, then in 1882, 
 and in 1883. 
 
 Since his death, performances have taken place there 
 eight times : in 1884, 1886, 1888, 1889, 1891, 1892, 
 1894, and 1 896,2 under the active and indefatigable 
 administration of Herr von Gross, Wagner's testamentary 
 executor and the tutor of his son. Frau Wagner has, so 
 far, never deducted the slightest amount from the receipts, 
 for she regards this Theatre not as a money-making en- 
 terprise, but as a work exclusively for art. When a sur- 
 plus is left oyer from one year it is reserved for the 
 expenses of the next season and to cover improvements 
 and the renewing of material, as well as the maintenance 
 of the Theatre. 
 
 1 He had intended only to lend them. But they were totally 
 It, and when the Tetralogy was revived in 1896, it was necessary 
 to make new scenery, as well as costumes and accessories. 
 
 2 Again in 1897.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 61
 
 62 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 -9 
 
 h 
 h 
 < 
 
 £Q0 
 
 10 
 
 Q 
 
 ;6 
 
 A3 
 
 «— > 
 CO 
 
 O 
 
 O 
 
 IS 
 
 CD 
 
 K
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 63 
 
 The hall of this model theatre contains 1,344 seats, 
 arranged in a fan-shaped amphitheatre in a rectangular 
 building. Each stall consists of a large folding cane- 
 seat, without support for the arms. Because of their 
 fan-shaped arrangement, the number of seats is not the 
 same on each row ; the first contains only thirty-two, 
 and the thirtieth has fifty-two; the chairs are placed 
 alternately in each row, so that every one is interfered 
 with as little as possible by those in front, and a good 
 view may be had from every point. However, it is cer- 
 tain that the best places, for seeing as well as hearing, 
 are in the centre of the 4th, 5th, 6th, 7th, and 8th 
 rows. 
 
 Behind this amphitheatre, and consequently at the 
 very back of the hall, there is a row of nine boxes, 
 known under the general name of Royal Boxes •, these 
 seats are reserved for Royalties and for Frau Wagner's 
 invited guests.' Although I believe that the public may 
 sometimes get them at a price, yet officially they are 
 not at the public disposal, which is not a matter for 
 regret, for they are so far away that you are better off 
 elsewhere. 
 
 Finally, above the Royal Boxes there is another large 
 gallery containing two hundred seats, for which the 
 personnel of the theatre have orders. There you can 
 hear marvellously well, but you have a bad view and 
 it is verv warm. Altogether the hall contains about 
 1,500 spectators. 
 
 There is no ticket-office ; the entrances and exits are 
 ten side doors, five on the right and five on the left, 
 opening directly from the outside, and each giving 
 access to a certain number of rows. 
 
 The lighting consists of a double row of incandescent 
 electric lamps ; the lower row, midway up the columns
 
 64 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 which surround the hall, is entirely extinguished one 
 minute before the beginning of each act; the other, 
 quite close to the roof, is simply turned down ; there is 
 then almost total darkness. 
 
 THE HAI.I., THE ORCHESTRA, AXD THE STAGE 
 
 The ventilation is perfect ; it is never too warm, and 
 yet a draught is never felt. 
 
 The orchestra, which is made invisible by means of 
 a double screen, which partlv covers it, is arranged upon 
 steps, which are a continuation of those of the specta- 
 tors, and descend a long way under the stage as into a
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 65 
 
 kind of cave, which has received the name of the 
 " mysterious space," or the " mystic abyss." There 
 the instruments are grouped by families, exactly as at 
 large svmphony concerts, except that things are reversed, 
 the conductor and violins being above, and the noisy 
 instruments below at the back ; moreover, the first 
 violins are to the right, and the second to the left; it is 
 simply an ordinary orchestra reversed. 
 
 The space reserved for the stage and the artists' 
 rooms is a little larger than the hall ; the curtain divides 
 the building almost into two equal parts with regard to 
 its length. The stage is very deep, perhaps unneces- 
 sarily so, for the whole of it is never used, and the back 
 serves as a kind of store-room for properties. There 
 is nothing unique about the interior arrangements of 
 the Theatre ; it is almost the same as what you find in 
 all well-equipped theatres; the height of the roof and 
 the depth under the stage are sufficient to allow of an 
 entire scene being raised or lowered, and it may also be 
 made to disappear on either side. The artists' dressing- 
 rooms are spacious, but extremely simple. 
 
 A little room serves as a foyer for the instrumentalists 
 to tune their instruments in, as this is not allowed in 
 the orchestra, where s : lence is enforced. 
 
 There is no foyer for the public; the neighbouring 
 country takes its place when it is fine, as it generally is 
 in July and August ; in case of bad weather, people take 
 refuge in one of the cafe-restaurants which have been 
 established in the vicinity since 1876, and still exist. 
 On the same floor with the Roval Boxes in the little 
 annex built in 1882, there are three fine rooms, one 
 of which is furnished as a dining-room, with a buffet, 
 which serves as a foyer for privileged guests ; these 
 rooms are also used for partial rehearsals, but the public 
 
 5
 
 66 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 is not admitted. Finally, above, on the gallery floor, 
 in a long room in the form of a lobby, the innumerable 
 wreaths sent from all parts of the world on the occasion 
 of Wagner's funeral are piously preserved on the walls ; 
 there also may be seen, under a protecting glass, the 
 slate on which he was accustomed to write the hours 
 for the next rehearsal, and which still bears his last 
 order. In the adjoining room the already voluminous 
 archives are kept. 
 
 The exterior of the edifice is not at all remarkable. 
 It is a large building of red brick, with projecting beams, 
 and a base of free-stone, with very little of the artistic in 
 its appearance ; its best point is the little court in the 
 form of a loggia, added afterwards, with a balcony, con- 
 taining the reception-rooms ; but it is entirely without 
 architectural pretension; it was planned solely with the 
 view to its practical use and its interior arrangement, and 
 this end is well attained.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 67
 
 68 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 CHAPTER Til 
 
 ANALYSIS OF THE POEMS 1 
 
 " Perfect art, art which pretends to re- 
 veal the entire man, always demands 
 these three modes of expression : 
 gesture, music, poetry." — Richard 
 Wagner. 
 
 WE are no longer — and, thank Heaven, we have 
 not been for a long time — in the period when 
 Wagner was debated and stood in need of champions ; 
 if a few rare detractors (sour or paradoxical spirits) still 
 exist, they are now a quantit'e n'egligeable, and need not 
 trouble us at all. Therefore it seems to me absolutely 
 out of place (and 1 am anxious to say this at the outset of 
 this study of Wagner's style) to lavish upon him praises 
 which he does not need, or to refute the criticisms which 
 he has had to endure, but which nobody now ventures to 
 utter. It is not, therefore, from lukewarmness, as I ex- 
 plain here once for all, that I abstain from eulogies which 
 can never equal my admiration, but from a sentiment of 
 profound respect, like that which keeps people from ap- 
 plauding Parsifal. Before this colossal genius and his 
 gigantic work we must bow with uncovered heads, but 
 remain mute, since silence is in some cases the highest 
 and most eloquent form of veneration. If Wagner 
 
 1 Those who wish thoroughly to study Wagner's powerful dra- 
 matic art cannot consult works more seriously written and sincere 
 than those of Ernst, Kufferath, and Houston Stewart Chamberlain.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 69 
 
 were still alive, I think that no one would venture to ask 
 to be presented to him to compliment him on his talents. 
 We look at the sun and watch it in its course, but we 
 never think of congratulating it upon its power, nor of 
 thinking that its glory would in any way be augmented 
 by the addition of our mite of personal appreciation. 
 This is why I shall systematically abstain from all ex- 
 pressions of admiration, confining myself, in this respect, 
 to silent contemplation, which seems to me the only re- 
 spectful attitude. 
 
 At present, then, everybody admires Wagner, but in 
 different ways and in various degrees, according to the 
 extent of each individual's intellectual culture, his pre- 
 vious studies, and his special initiation. It is these de- 
 grees and shades of individual admiration that I should 
 first like to define and clearly distinguish. 
 
 First, there is the admirer of Wagner exclusively, for 
 whom no one existed before him and no one can come 
 after him. This extravagance, honourable as it may be, 
 seems to me exaggerated and excessive, and, I would even 
 say, somewhat wanting in respect to the Master of Bay- 
 reuth, who had his own passionate enthusiasms which he 
 did not conceal ; it seems to me that one may, and should, 
 admit at least those for whom he himself professed un- 
 bounded admiration : Sophocles, i^schylus, Shakespeare, 
 Goethe, Bach, Beethoven, and Weber. Now, it is 
 difficult to admit Bach without giving some attention to 
 certain of his predecessors, if it were only Palestrina, 
 Monteverde, Heinrich Schiitz, and his contemporary 
 Handel ; we can scarcely separate Beethoven from Mo- 
 zart and Haydn, from whom he is derived ; it is impos- 
 sible to recognize Weber's worth whilst scorning the 
 works of Mendelssohn, Schubert, and Schumann, whose
 
 70 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 scores still adorn the splendid library of Wahnfried, as 
 they enriched the mind of its illustrious founder. 
 
 Wagner's sympathies for Bellini and other Italian 
 masters are not less certain ; he acknowledges them, and 
 we can find indisputable traces of them in the melodic 
 structure of his work. 
 
 Now, all these masters, and manv others, long be- 
 fore Wagner's advent raised the question regarding 
 his musical progenitors, were of themselves powerful 
 geniuses, and it is a very false idea to believe that you 
 elevate him in abasing those whose works prepared his 
 triumphal way by providing him with the necessary ele- 
 ments. Mont Blanc would not appear higher if you 
 levelled the neighbouring mountains ; on the contrary, it 
 is bv ascending their peaks that its full majesty is best 
 revealed. The fanatical, exclusive Wagnerian reminds 
 me of an Alpine-climber who would deny the existence 
 of Buet or the Jungfrau, believing, in all good faith, that 
 by so doing he will increase the unassailable prestige of 
 the highest peak in Europe. 
 
 Twill go still farther: I believe that in order to be 
 justified in boasting that we really and thoroughly under- 
 stand Wagner, we must be convinced that we under- 
 stand (I say understand in the sense of appreciating — I do 
 not say admire) everything which worthilv preceded him 
 in the evolution of the art. And he who pretends to 
 understand only Wagner, who impertinently rejects the 
 works of our great contemporaries as unworthy of his 
 attention, thinking that by so doing he confers upon 
 himself a mark of high musical intelligence, proves only 
 one thing, — that he understands nothing whatever. 
 
 1 hen there is the rational admirer, he whose admira- 
 tion is based on the study and analysis of the classics by 
 whose immemorial efforts has been progressively raised
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 71 
 
 the edifice of German Art, which was already superb 
 when Wagner (a classic himself, since he combines all 
 styles in his prodigious personality) arose to bring it its 
 great and glorious crown. 
 
 This is the thorough and erudite admirer; he appre- 
 ciates the purely musical beauties of J. S. Bach ; he sees 
 the feeling for expressive declamation developing in 
 Gluck ; he penetrates into the philosophical depths of 
 Beethoven's style, and notes that the entirely modern 
 science of orchestration begins with him ; he marks how 
 Weber and Schumann are drawn into the romantic 
 movement and idealism ; and when he finds united in 
 Wagner all these elements, and others besides, all carried 
 to a higher perfection and put to the service of a drama- 
 tist, great among the greatest, he has the right to say that 
 he admires because he understands what there is to 
 admire. Of the beauties of every kind that abound in 
 Wagner's work, not one is hidden from him, all are 
 revealed so much the more abundantly in that he has a 
 deeper knowledge of their origin, and his only trouble is 
 to know what to admire the most ; for Wagner, when 
 he pleases, is as pure in his writing as Bach ; his decla- 
 mation is even more expressive than Gluck's, and truer; 
 his orchestral effects, in their richness and variety, sur- 
 pass even the prodigious orchestration of Beethoven, 
 Weber, and Mendelssohn ; he is just as poetic and 
 not so obscure as Schumann ; and, finally, he has 
 excelled every one of those whom he has taken as a 
 model. Moreover, above all hovers, like the dove of the 
 Grail, the breath of his personal inspiration, the individ- 
 ual characteristic note of his genius ; whence it follows 
 that whilst we arc able to establish with certainty 
 the chief lines of his artistic genealogy, it is impossible to 
 confound him with any of his predecessors, and that each
 
 72 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 of his pages is as though sealed with his seal, with the 
 indelible mark of his incommensurable genius. 
 
 There is also the intuitive admirer, who is musically 
 ignorant, but endowed with an exquisitely sensitive tem- 
 perament which serves him . instead of erudition. I 
 would not dare to say he understands, but he feels. It 
 is another thing, and yet it is the same thing. 
 
 What first captivates him is the stately and imposing 
 character of the art displayed ; little by little he grasps 
 the details by means of frequent and repeated hearings, 
 and more especially by the aid of the poetry ; for, even 
 if he is ignorant of the music, he is far from being illit- 
 erate ; little by little the assimilation of the Leit-motive 
 with analogous situations also strikes him, attracts his 
 attention, and fills him with emotion ; he constantly 
 finds himself trying to sing them, and never quite suc- 
 ceeds ; the instrumentation affects him by its pomp and 
 inexhaustible richness of colour, without his troubling to 
 learn how it is done ; he gladly resigns himself to all 
 these influences, he submits to the mastery of the great 
 German Art, but he is incapable of explaining the cause 
 of his emotion to a third person, or sometimes even to 
 himself; when he attempts it he falters, but he is sin- 
 cerely and profoundly moved. 
 
 This admirer, whose instinctive admiration is the 
 most flattering of all, is, perhaps, the most sympathetic, 
 but he is not the most happy : for he is more of an 
 artist at heart, and he suffers more from the want of the 
 technical instruction which would allow him to com- 
 prehend and to analyze what he feels so strongly. 
 
 Finally, there is the partial admirer, he who makes 
 reservations, who thinks the beginning of the second act 
 of Lohengrin too dark; who complains of the intermin- 
 able monologues of Wotan or Gurnemanz, and who
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 73 
 
 would like the duets between Tristan and Isolde or 
 Kurvvenal to be cut, whilst still recognizing, in other 
 places, beauties which delight and transport him. 
 
 This one is an admirer in the first degree of initiation ; 
 and if he is sincere, if he has not the obstinacy to cling 
 to his first impression, he will gradually see his horizon 
 widen. If he is a musician, the simplest thing for him 
 is to study the scores carefully and without prejudice, 
 paying especial attention to the declamation ; l if he be- 
 longs to the class of intuitive amateurs, it is by reading 
 and analyzing the poetry as well as by repeated hearings 
 that he will arrive at the same result. It may take a 
 long time, but he will come to it ; for Wagner is not 
 one to be liked by halves, and if anything of his is not 
 admired, it is because it is not understood. 
 
 I once experimented with myself in a way which I do 
 not regret, but which I would not repeat for anything in 
 the world, because it is most distressing. The series of 
 performances which I was to attend consisted of Parsifal, 
 the Meistersinger, Tristan and Isolde, and again Parsifal. 
 I had devoted several weeks to a deep study of Parsifal, 
 so that there could be no surprises in store for me; I 
 knew the Meistersinger, which was also in the series, 
 pretty well ; but (and this is the important part of my 
 experience) / had not read a single note of " Tristan and 
 Isolde" a few fragments of which I only knew from 
 poor performances. 
 
 Now this is what happened ; the two days of Parsifal 
 were for me two days of the most pure and never-to-be- 
 forgotten happiness ; I was actually living among the 
 
 1 Be it understood, I speak here of the German score, and more 
 particularly of the orchestral score. If one does not know enough 
 German to understand Wagner's very difficult poetry, it is easy to 
 obtain a literal translation.
 
 74 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 Knights of the Grail, and I seemed to be in a dream as 
 I strolled outside between the acts smoking cigarettes ; 
 the scenic illusion was as complete as possible and the 
 happy impression it left upon me will never be effaced 
 from my memory. I was more highly amused at the 
 buffooneries (although somewhat coarse) of the Meister- 
 singer than I had ever been at the Palais Royal ; at the 
 same time I was profoundly moved by the tender kind- 
 ness of Sachs and his touching spirit of self-sacrifice. 
 But as for Tristan, I understood nothing at all, nothing, 
 nothing, absolutely nothing. Is that clear ? 
 
 It takes a certain amount of courage to confess these 
 things, especially when one has subsequently succeeded 
 in penetrating the innumerable beauties of Tristan and 
 Isolde ; but I wish my sad example to be of service to 
 others, and therefore it is necessary to relate it. 
 
 We must not go to Bayreuth, then, without first 
 having made a serious preparatory study of the works 
 which we are going to hear, and this study is just as 
 necessary for the poetry as for the music. The more it 
 is prolonged and intelligently conducted, the more pleas- 
 ure we may promise ourselves from it. 
 
 I need scarcely say that I do not place in any class of 
 admirers those unfortunate victims of snobbishness who 
 go to Bayreuth because it is the fashion, or to show off 
 their clothes, or to pose as intimate friends of the Wagner 
 family, and get Herr Ernst to explain the work during 
 the entr'actes. The symptoms of their disease — alas! 
 incurable — are exceedingly simple; it is sufficient to 
 sit down to the piano and improvise some utterly mean- 
 ingless strains which you dignify with the name of Leit- 
 motiv e ; they immediately go into raptures. But this 
 experiment is not without some danger ; if by chance 
 they find you out, you may suffer for it.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 75 
 
 It is not for these that I write, nor for the rational 
 admirer, whom I have nothing to teach ; but for those 
 who admire intuitively or with reservations; they alone 
 will find advantage in being guided and in profiting 
 from the experience of another, so as to direct their 
 own researches with a certain method, — the only way 
 of not missing anything. 
 
 It is expedient first to examine the general structure 
 and the chief outlines of the work. 
 
 All Wagner's great works are divided into three acts; 1 
 I have not met anywhere with the reason which led him 
 to adopt this evidently intentional division, but it seems 
 to me that such a division is less fatiguing than that in 
 four or five acts ; I prefer two long entr'actes to four 
 short ones; besides, this division is admirably adapted to 
 each of the subjects treated by Wagner, as may be seen by 
 reading the poems, or the brief analyses which follow. 
 
 The acts themselves are not divided into separate 
 numbers, as in the opera, but into mutually connected 
 scenes, without any break in the action, so that, in many 
 cases, it would be difficult to decide exactly at what 
 phrase one ends and another begins. With the excep- 
 tion of this method of weaving everything together 
 into a permanent orchestral web, this division of the 
 musical drama is not an innovation of Wagner's. He 
 only amplified the form, and gave to it, as it were, the 
 force of a law, after the lack of uniformity in the drama 
 which prevailed at the beginning of this century. 
 
 Almost all the musicians of the 17th and 18th centu- 
 ries, and especially the French, always divided their 
 dramatic works into scenes, following in that respect the 
 usage of the tragedy in verse. 
 
 1 Witli the exception of Rienzi, which has five acts, and follows, 
 moreover, the form of opera.
 
 y6 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 In the majority of these scenes were introduced, it is 
 true, airs for one, two, or three voices, even purely 
 instrumental airs ; but in the musical works of this 
 period many scenes exist in which the course of the 
 action is treated without any air properly so-called (the 
 air being, then, only a reflection of the situation). 
 
 To quote only one example from one of the most 
 beautiful and best-known lyrical tragedies of the 18th 
 century, let us take the second act of Rameau's Dar- 
 danus. We find : 
 
 Scene I. — An orchestral prelude linked to a very 
 melodic strain by Ismenor, which, properly speaking, is 
 neither an air nor what the ancients called the accom- 
 panied recitative. 
 
 Without any interruption there follows : Scene II. — 
 Dialogue between Ismenor and Dardanus. This dialogue 
 contains a passage of twenty-four bars called air, because 
 the musical phrase occurs in a regular manner, but which 
 has nothing in common with the type of air used later; 
 then the dialogue continues and is linked to a second air 
 of only eight bars, which, in truth, is only a continuation 
 of the dialogue, and can no more be regarded as an air 
 as we have since come to understand it, than Gurne- 
 manz's melodic phrase in the " Spell of Good Friday." 
 
 Scene III. — The great incantation of Ismenor and 
 his "ministers," broken with symphonic airs accompany- 
 ing a pantomime and very melodic solos (notably the 
 famous solo, with double-bass accompaniments), is in 
 very truth a dramatic scene, and not a musically con- 
 structed air. This scene is continued on the arrival of 
 Antenor by a very stirring dialogue between Antenor and 
 Dardanus as Ismenor. 
 
 Scene IV. — Dardanus and Iphise, containing an air, 
 or rather a melodic phrase by Iphise, of forty bars,
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 77 
 
 more like our operatic airs on account of its arrangement, 
 major and minor, andante and allegro ; then the dialogue 
 continues, and ends on the recognition of Dardanus by 
 Iphise, an action which closes the act, as was usual at 
 that time ; but, in fact, during this entire act the com- 
 poser only occupies himself with the progress of the dra- 
 matic action, and with the musical expression demanded 
 by the incidents of this action, without interrupting the 
 dialogue, except very briefly as the episodes occur. With- 
 out considering here the part played by the accompany- 
 ing music, this is exactly the structure of the Wagnerian 
 scenes, and this form is not at all peculiar to Rameau ; 
 we find it in all the composers of the last two centuries, 
 before virtuosity destroyed interest in the part recited (at 
 that time the most important part of the action) and gave 
 an exaggerated importance to the air part (sonata or con- 
 certo for the voice), an intrusion of the symphonic form 
 into the construction of the drama, which gave rise 
 to the whole of the system of opera existing before 
 Wagner. 
 
 We must not think, then, that this constitutes what 
 has been called the Wagnerian reform, — a wrong word, 
 since it is not here so much a question of modifications 
 or improvements made to a form already existing, as a 
 neiu conception of the ivork of art itself . It is far more vast 
 and profound. That is orte of the things which Wagner 
 had most trouble in making people understand; and 
 among his most fervent and passionate admirers there are 
 a good number who do not yet comprehend it. 
 
 It is not possible in a work of such modest dimen- 
 sions as this to enter into a thorough discussion of this 
 question which has been so often disputed : Which was 
 greater in Wagner, — the poet or the musician, the 
 composer or the dramatist ?
 
 78 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 We cannot, however, entirely neglect it, without 
 danger of leaving too many things in obscurity. 
 
 In order to establish a kind of neutral ground be- 
 tween those who wish to regard Wagner especially as a 
 dramatic poet, and those, more numerous, who prefer 
 to admire him as a musician, let us obviate the difficulty 
 by the introduction of a third term, and say : Wagner 
 was above all else a profound philosopher, whose thought 
 assumed in turn, with equal facility, the poetic or the 
 musical form ; and it is thus that he must be regarded 
 to perfectly understand him in his two aspects. 
 
 The ancient philosophers were often at the same time 
 mathematicians, astronomers, poets, musicians, and, at 
 need, legislators. They possessed, then, very striking 
 capacities, which were only various manifestations of 
 their very high intelligence and of their genius. Now, 
 Wagner's genius, exclusively directed from his earliest 
 youth towards one sole end, the extension and exalta- 
 tion of dramatic power, was confronted with two modes 
 of expression, music and poetry, each as energetic and 
 each as incomplete as the other, and he foresaw that bv 
 combining them in one single art he would be able to 
 carry them to their utmost power. 
 
 The whole effort of his life, his undeviating advance 
 through all struggles, his fixity of purpose, and the 
 unity of his works, are evidences of this conviction, 
 inspired by which a character so opinionated as his 
 would not allow itself to be turned from the straight 
 line to the goal so obstinately sought. 
 
 The New Art, which he created, he himself sa\ s is 
 derived from the ancient Greek theatre. Now, among 
 the Greeks, we find united under the one name of 
 music three arts, which at present we consider distinct : 
 poetry, already in its splendour; music, at that time
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 79 
 
 quite rudimentary ; and dancing, which we must con- 
 sider as mimetic; the same individuals who formed the 
 chorus used to sing rhythmical words and dance at the 
 same time. This combination constituted the art of 
 the Muses — Music — which was then a complex art, 
 if it ever was one. And we have never heard it said 
 that in those days, as in ours, there was ever any ques- 
 tion of collaboration between a poet, musician, and 
 dancing-master; tragedy sprang complete, fully armed, 
 from the brain of one single author, who was a philos- 
 opher, poet, and musician. 
 
 Such is Wagner also, a complete dramatic genius, 
 sufficient in himself, and holding, as his innate principle, 
 that the highest tragic power can only be attained by 
 the intimate and perpetual union of music and poetry 
 aided by gesture, each one keeping to its own sphere of 
 action and exhibiting its highest powers, without inter- 
 fering with the other. 
 
 This requires some explanation ; for it will be said 
 that music has been set to words in all ages. This is 
 why for a time Wagner believed that the opera form 
 might correspond to his desideratum; in fact, at least 
 since Gluck, we find in opera a certain agreement be- 
 tween words and notes, tone and speech, verse and 
 melodic sentiment; but it is incontestable that the stage- 
 setting, whilst being an indispensable canvas for the 
 composer as a point of departure, becomes a secondary 
 matter, and when it comes to the performance the spec- 
 tator's interest is concentrated almost entirely upon the 
 music. This, then, is not the intimate union dreamed 
 of, since the dramatic is absorbed by the purely musical 
 part, and the librettist himself is forced to cast his liter- 
 ary work in conventional forms, simply for the sake of 
 the music. On the other hand, there are cases when
 
 80 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 we feel that the introduction of music is almost super- 
 fluous, that it adds nothing to the action, the prosaic and 
 sordid character of which could easily dispense with the 
 form of verse even. 
 
 Can it be that there are some subjects not adapted to 
 music and the modes of expression peculiar to it ? 
 
 It is here, between the musician and poet, that the 
 philosopher intervenes, and this is how he resolves the 
 question : " Everything in a dramatic subject which 
 appeals to the reason alone can only be expressed by 
 words ; but, in proportion as the emotion increases, the 
 need of another mode of expression makes itself felt 
 more and more, and there comes a moment when the 
 language of music is the only one capable of adequate 
 expression. This peremptorily decides the class of sub- 
 jects suitable to the poet-musician, which are subjects of 
 a purely human x order, freed from all conventions, and 
 from every element having no signification except as an 
 historic form." (Richard Wagner, 1858.) 
 
 This, then, settles the first essential point, to know 
 what subject to choose. 
 
 Henceforward Wagner will accept no more historical 
 subjects, like Rienzi, nor legendary ones, like The Flying 
 Dutchman ; he will mount the steps of Montsalvat, or 
 those equally mysterious ones of Walhalla, and will dwell 
 apart on those heights where reason and reasoning have 
 no longer the right to intervene. There, in fact, emotion 
 and music reign supreme, and fancy may soar at will. 
 
 1 "What Wagner calls 'purely human basis' is that which 
 also constitutes the essence of humanity ; that which soars above 
 all superficial difFerences of time, place, and climate, above all 
 historical and other conditions, in one word all that directly pro- 
 ceeds from the divine source." 
 
 H. S. Chamberlain, 
 
 Das Drama Richard Wagners (Leipzig, 1S92); 
 French Translation (Paris, 1894).
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 81 
 
 This question of the choice of subject is, then, of the 
 first importance, and the Wagnerian drama can only 
 move in the regions of mysticism, of the supernatural, of 
 mythology, or of the purely legendary, as in Tristan and 
 Isolde. He does not derogate from this law in treating 
 the subject of the Meistersinger, which, under its appear- 
 ance of levity, conceals a real drama of sacrifice and 
 abnegation, which drama passes in Sachs's mind, and for 
 that reason belongs to the domain of emotional music. 
 
 We already see here, then, that the musician, by this 
 very conception, is indissolubly united with the dramatist, 
 and that it would be useless, even idle, to try to establish 
 a priority in favour of either one or the other, because, 
 in truth, they are but one, and it cannot be otherwise. 
 
 Precision of speech and the still more penetrating 
 accent of musical tones seemed to him both equally 
 necessary to the expression of his mighty ideas, which 
 it would have been impossible to convey in all their ful- 
 ness and splendour by one of these two means alone. 
 To these also must be added gesture, the stage-business; 
 for Wagner, unlike his German predecessors who were 
 essentially symphonists, always kept the stage in his mind. 
 He wrote his poems with the idea in view of setting them 
 to music, and, doubtless, he would have been ill at ease if 
 he had had to work upon the libretto of another, but this 
 he never attempted. 1 His great and incomparable power 
 lies in the fact that he unites in himself all the elements 
 necessary for the complete production of the work of dra- 
 matic art as he conceived it, impressive and emotional in 
 the highest degree, which work stands veritably complete 
 as a whole, and for that reason it is so much the more 
 moving and fascinating. 
 
 1 His very remarkable melodies on the poems of Victor Hugo, 
 Ronsard, and Heinrich Heine are not in the same category. 
 
 6
 
 82 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 He wrote his poems long before the music ; but 
 whilst writing them he must have foreshadowed the 
 music ; in some measure it must even have been hover- 
 ing around his poetic conception, or have been latent in 
 it ; without its vivifying agency these very poems would 
 have been incomplete; we should feel in them the lack 
 of something higher, something more elevated, which 
 could only be the music, and which, perhaps uncon- 
 sciously even, presided at their conception. 
 
 At this point, where the power of spoken language 
 ends, there begins the province of music, which alone is 
 capable of portraying or provoking states of mind, and 
 there also, where words become insufficient, Wagner the 
 poet calls to his aid Wagner the musician. 
 
 We must not regard him as a poet who knows how to 
 set his verse to music, nor as a composer who writes his 
 own poems ; but as a complete genius, a philosopher, 
 and a great thinker, who has two languages at his com- 
 mand, two means of making himself understood by his 
 fellow-men, poetry and music, which, being united, 
 form but one language with an absolutely matchless 
 intensity of expression. By means of poetry Wagner 
 reveals to us the outward man, who speaks and acts ; by 
 means of music, he enables us to penetrate into the 
 secret thoughts of the inner man ; with music also he 
 raises us above terrestrial humanity and transports us 
 into the supernatural regions of the ideal. 
 
 The equilibrium to be established between these two 
 forms of the dramatico-musical language was the object 
 of much thought and groping in the dark on Wagner's 
 part. He constantly sought it, even in his first works, 
 though there unconsciously; in Tannhauser and Lohengrin 
 he comes considerably nearer; and the equilibrium is 
 complete and perfect in all his last works, Tristan^ the
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 83 
 
 Meistersinger, the Tetralogy, and in Parsifal, which finally 
 appears as the masterpiece par excellence of the new and 
 complex art which he laboured to create j there the 
 fusion is complete, the composer and the dramatist are at 
 last one, and emotion attains its highest power. 
 
 It would seem, then, that the most natural wav of 
 analyzing works of such unity would be to deal with 
 the music and the poetry at the same time, since they 
 arc inseparable and indissoluble. 
 
 But after a trial, I recognized that this plan, although 
 attractive, was totally lacking in clearness. I therefore 
 regretfully abandoned it, and I am first going to relate 
 the poems here, deferring to a future chapter that which 
 treats specially of the music. 
 
 Concerning the poems, my one desire is to succeed in 
 presenting them in their true aspect, which in the main 
 is always simple, following the action step by step, with- 
 out neglecting any details necessary to the complete 
 comprehension of the drama ; but I shall systematically 
 abstain from commentary, digression, and superfluous an- 
 notation, the work being there to explain itself in all 
 parts which are intended to be understood, the other 
 parts often have a domain of their own in the mysterious 
 clouds with which it has pleased the Master to veil them. 
 It would seem to me almost to be going against his 
 wishes should I try to let in a factitious light where he 
 desires obscurity, and the spectator whom I desire to 
 guide would gain nothing from it, since by so doing I 
 should deprive him of one of the most intellectual pleas- 
 ures reserved for him, that of penetrating for himself 
 into the hidden essence of the drama. 
 
 However, the musical side cannot be completelv 
 separated from the poetic. 
 
 At the beginning of each analysis of a poem I place
 
 84 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 a synthetic table of the entire work, which I think I 
 ought to explain, as it is drawn up in a new way. 
 
 The first column contains the names of the characters 
 in the exact order of their appearance on the stage, particu- 
 larizing each voice ; it also, in a few words, describes 
 them and their genealogy when it is needed ; the other 
 columns, of variable number, show, act by act, tableau 
 by tableau, and scene by scene, the successive appear- 
 ances of the same characters. 
 
 We are thus enabled, at a glance, to see the personal- 
 ity of the character, the quality of his voice, the relative 
 importance of his role, the scenes in which he appears, 
 the number of actors on the stage at any given moment, 
 the introduction of the choruses and the kinds of voices 
 of which they are composed, besides the great divisions 
 of the work, etc. 1 
 
 TANNHAUSER ; or THE TOURNAMENT OF THE 
 SINGERS AT THE WARTBURG 
 
 Act I. 
 
 Scene I. — The stage represents the Venusberg, or 
 subterranean realm of Venus (near Eisenach). In the 
 background of the grotto, sparkling under a rosy light, a 
 blue lake extends as far as the eye can reach. 
 
 In its waters sirens and naiads are sporting ; on the 
 shores and hillocks amorous lovers are grouped ; and 
 nymphs and bacchantes are dancing with wild abandon. 
 In the foreground, to the left, upon a magnificent dais, is 
 a sumptuous lounge on which Venus lies. At her feet, 
 with his head upon her lap is Tannhauser. 
 
 1 In :ill the tableaux the sign □ indicates a silent character ; the 
 actor is on the stage, but docs not speak.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 TANNHAUSER 
 
 85 
 
 CHARACTERS 
 
 ACT 
 
 1. 
 
 ACT 
 II. 
 
 ACT 
 
 III 
 
 in the order of their 
 first entrance. 
 
 SCENES : 
 
 
 
 
 Tab. 1 Tab.2 
 
 1 
 
 ^ 
 
 :i 
 
 4 
 
 5 
 
 1 
 
 2 
 
 3 
 
 4 1 S 
 
 1 
 
 2 1 3 
 
 4 
 
 Sirens {Chorus: sopr., contr.). 
 
 ■ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 | 
 
 Venus (sopr.). Goddess of beauty, 
 who lias enthralled Tannhauser and 
 brought him into her realm. 
 
 '! 
 
 ■ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 ■ 
 
 Tannhauser (tenor). Poet-kright 
 
 and singer, loves Elizabeth whom 
 he has abandoned for Venus. 
 
 1 ! 
 
 ■ 
 
 ■ 
 
 ■ 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 ■ 
 
 ■ 
 
 A Young Shepherd (sopr.). 
 
 (Episode.) 
 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Old Pilgrims {Chorus: ten.,bas?.). 
 
 
 
 E 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 The Landgrave Hermann 
 (bass). Prince of Thuringia, Lord of 
 the Wartburg, Elizabeth's uncle. 
 
 
 
 
 S 
 
 
 •" 
 
 ■ 
 
 ■ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Walter (tenor). Poet-knight and 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 singer. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 singer. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 Wolfram (barytone). Poet-knighl 
 and singer, loves Elizabeth at a 
 distance. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 SE 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Henry (tenor). Poet-knight and 
 singer. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 Reinmar (bass". Poet-knight and 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 singer. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Elizabethfsopr.). Niecetothe Land- 
 grave Hermann, loves Tannhauser. 
 
 
 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 m 
 
 ■ 
 
 ... 
 
 ■ 
 
 
 
 
 
 The People {Chorus: sopr., ten., 
 basses). 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 4 Pages (sopr., contr.). 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Nobles {Chorus: tenors, basses). 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 •' 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Young Pilgrims {Chorus : sopr , 
 contr.). 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 .
 
 86 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 The sirens invite the inhabitants of the voluptuous 
 empire to intoxicate themselves with the delights of 
 love ; the dances grow ever more animated, then they 
 gradually cease as the couples withdraw, and the mists, 
 which now mount and gather in the background, obscure 
 all the figures but those of Venus and Tannhauser in 
 the foreground. 
 
 Scene II. — The knight, apparently waking from a 
 dream, passes his hand across his brow, as if trying to 
 dispel his vision ; he thinks he hears the bells of his 
 native country, which he left, alas ! so long ago. In 
 vain his goddess endeavours to calm him; memories of 
 the wonders of earth, of the starry firmament, of the 
 emerald meadows, of the radiant Spring haunt him ; he 
 regrets these things and longs for them again. Venus 
 reminds him of the sorrows that he endured upon that 
 earth and contrasts them with the joys which are his in 
 her companionship. She bids him take his harp and 
 sing of love, the love which has conquered for him the 
 Goddess of Beauty. 
 
 Resolutely seizing the instrument, he celebrates the 
 enervating ecstasies of voluptuousness which the goddess, 
 whilst making him the equal of the gods, has lavished 
 upon him so generously ; but his song ends with a cry 
 of lassitude ; he no longer delights in intoxication, and 
 asks that he may depart forever. In vain the enchant- 
 ress, with alternate menace and entreatv, tries to hold 
 him. Twice again he sings the hvmn in which he extols 
 the beauty of his queen and the enchantments of her em- 
 pires, vowing to sing them forever ; but his desire to see 
 fresh Nature and her verdant woods becomes more and 
 more imperative ; he implores the goddess to let him go. 
 
 A prey to violent rage, she finally consents, threaten- 
 ing him with all the sorrows of that earth which he
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 87 
 
 wishes to see again so ardently, also praying in her spite 
 that he may bitterly regret the life which she has made 
 so sweet to him and which she now closes to him forever; 
 then, with a sudden revulsion, she again tries to keep 
 him, renewing her seductive witchery. 
 
 The knight's aspirations turn only to repentance, to 
 death ; and, animated by an ever-increasing exaltation, 
 with an impulsive fervour, he calls on the aid of the 
 Virgin Mary. 
 
 His prayer, heard without doubt by the divine pro- 
 tectress, breaks the spell which has kept him enthralled. 
 A terrific crash is heard: the realm of pleasure suddenly 
 disappears, and the freed sinner finds himself in the beau- 
 tiful valley which is dominated, on the right, by the 
 Wartburg;. 
 
 Scene III. — In the distance, at the back, is the 
 Horselberg, the entrance to the realm of the damned. 
 On the left, a road descends among the trees and rocks 
 to the front of the stage ; to the right is a mountain 
 road, and half way up, a shrine of the Virgin. 
 
 In the woods to the left herd-bells are tinkling; a 
 shepherd, seated on a high rock, sings and celebrates the 
 Spring which is just budding, and then plays upon his 
 pipe. Meantime, in the distance, a chorus of men's 
 voices has been heard coming down the mountain. 
 These are old pilgrims going to Rome to obtain expia- 
 tion for their sins, and singing praises to Jesus and the 
 Virgin, whose heavenly help they implore. They slowly 
 cross the stage, still singing, and disappear ; the shep- 
 herd waves his hat to them as they pass and begs to 
 be remembered in their prayers. 
 
 Tannhauser, who during this scene has remained 
 standing, motionless, in a deep and silent ecstasy, now 
 falls upon his knees, praying in his turn to that God
 
 88 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 against whom he has so greatly offended ; he mingles 
 his ardent praver with the pilgrims' chant, which grows 
 fainter until gradually lost in the distance, whilst far- 
 away church-bells are heard in the valley. Tears choke 
 the voice of the sinner; he weeps bitterly over his sins 
 and makes a vow to expiate them by neglecting repose 
 and seeking suffering. 
 
 Scene IV. — In this attitude of sorrowful humilitv he 
 is found by the Landgrave and his minstrel knights, 
 who issue from the woods on their return from the 
 chase. Wolfram, one of his former companions, re- 
 cognizes him ; yes, it is certainly the knight, Heinrich 
 Tannhauser, who so often and victoriously took part in 
 the poetical contests of the Wartburg, and who disap- 
 peared mysteriously seven years ago. 
 
 All give him cordial welcome, and press him with 
 questions, to which he responds evasivelv. His friends, 
 happy at having found him again, wish to keep him with 
 them •, he protests, secretly faithful to his vow ; but 
 Wolfram pronounces a name which has an invincible 
 power over him : it is that of Elizabeth, the Landgrave's 
 niece, a chaste and pure maiden who secretly loves 
 Tannhauser, and who, since his disappearance, has lan- 
 guished in silence and desolation, absenting herself from 
 the gatherings which she formerly adorned with her 
 presence. 
 
 Tannhauser, much affected, allows himself to be per- 
 suaded, and, joining his companions in a cheerful song, 
 asks to be conducted to the gentle being for whom he 
 feels a returning love. The Landgrave winds his horn 
 and collects his huntsmen, who mount their steeds, 
 and the procession joyfully ascends the road to the 
 Wartburg.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 89 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Scene I. — The stage represents the hall of the 
 singers at the Wartburg. Through the large windows 
 at the back the court-yard of the castle is visible, and 
 beyond the open country stretches till lost in the dis- 
 tance. Elizabeth, animated and joyous, enters the hall 
 which she has so long deserted, and which she salutes 
 with delight, feeling new life return at the approach of 
 her heart's choice. 
 
 Scene II. — He is not slow in coming, accompanied 
 by his loyal companion, Wolfram, who halts at the 
 entrance of the hall, while Tannhauser impetuously 
 casts himself at the feet of the princess. Greatly moved, 
 she raises him and demands whence he comes. — From 
 a distant country, which he has already forgotten, 
 he replies, and from which only by a miracle he has 
 made his escape. — She is radiant at this, but checks her- 
 self in confusion, whilst revealing, with a gnxe tinged 
 with exquisite modesty, the secret of her virgin heart. 
 
 Tannhauser gives thanks to the God of Love who 
 has permitted him, by the aid of his melodies, to find the 
 way to this pure soul. Elizabeth joins her hymn of 
 happiness to that of her knight, while Wolfram, who 
 has loved the maiden with a secret and profound tender- 
 ness, sadly witnesses the destruction of his own hopes. 
 
 Scene III. — As the two knights withdraw together, the 
 Landgrave enters, happy to see his niece's return to gaietv 
 and life ; he begs to be taken into her confidence, but the 
 young woman, much moved, only half confides in him, 
 and he respects her secret : the contest which is in pre- 
 paration will, perhaps, bring about its revelation. 
 
 Scene IV. — The knights, holding their noble ladies 
 by the hand, and led by pages, first salute their host, the
 
 9 o THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 Landgrave, Prince of Thuringia, and then range them- 
 selves upon the raised seats facing the dais covered by a 
 canopy which the Landgrave and his niece proceed to 
 occupy. 
 
 Scene V. — The singers, for whom stools have been 
 reserved in front of the assembly, enter in their turn, and 
 bow with grace and dignity. Tannhauser is at one end 
 and Wolfram at the other. 
 
 The Prince then rises, and recalls for their inspiration 
 the tournaments of song which have previously taken 
 place in this hall and the glorious crowns for which his 
 knights contested when they were fighting victoriously 
 for the majesty of the German Empire. 
 
 But what the Landgrave proposes to celebrate on this 
 happy occasion is the return of the gallant poet who has 
 been so long absented from the Wartburg by a mysteri- 
 ous destiny. Perhaps his songs will reveal his Odyssey. 
 And the generous Prince ends by proposing the definition 
 of Love as the subject of the tournament, inviting the 
 victor boldly to solicit the highest and most precious re- 
 ward, which his niece Elizabeth will be as happy to grant 
 as he himself. 
 
 The knights and ladies applaud his decision, and four 
 pages advance to collect the names of the candidates in 
 a golden cup, to determine the order of singing. 
 
 The name of Wolfram von Eschenbach is the first 
 one drawn. While Tannhauser, leaning on his harp, 
 seems lost in a reverie, the knight rises and describes 
 his conception of Love. He understands it as pure, 
 ethereal, and respectful, and compares it to a beautiful 
 spring of limpid water which he would fear to disturb by 
 his approach. The mere sight of it fills his soul with in- 
 expressible delight, and he would rather shed the last 
 drop of his heart's blood than sully it with his touch.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 91 
 
 His song ended, he receives the warm approbation of 
 the assemblage. But Tannhauser rises quickly to com- 
 bat this definition of Love, which certainly is not bis ; 
 he conceives of the passion as less ideal, and under a 
 more material, more carnal form. Elizabeth, who in 
 her innocence blindly accepts Tannhauser's point of 
 view, makes a movement to applaud, but checks herself 
 before the grave and cold manner of the assembly. 
 Walter von der Vogelweide, and after him Biterolf, take 
 part in the debate, expressing the same ideas as Wolfram ; 
 Tannhauser responds with vivacity and increasing heat, 
 defending his theories of pagan Love, full of voluptuous- 
 ness and enjoyment, which he contrasts with the pure 
 and respectful ecstasy celebrated by the other knights. 
 The discussion becomes embittered : swords leap from 
 their scabbards ; the Landgrave makes heroic efforts to 
 quell the tumult ; Wolfram calls for Heaven's assistance 
 to make virtue triumphant by his song ; but Tannhauser, 
 at the height of his exaltation and madness, evokes the 
 memory of past delights and of the goddess to whom he 
 owed them, and invites those who are ignorant of these 
 passionate ardours to repair to the Venusberg, where they 
 shall be revealed ! 
 
 A cry of horror bursts from every throat at this unholy 
 invocation ; all draw aside from this cursed one, escaped 
 from the realm of Venus, who dares to defile them with 
 his presence. Elizabeth, with a wild gesture, alone 
 remains in her place, leaning against her chair. 
 
 The Landgrave and his knights consort to punish 
 the reprobate, who stands motionless in a mental ecstasy. 
 They rush upon him with drawn swords, but Elizabeth 
 thcows herself before them, making a rampart of her 
 body for the guilty man. — What are they going to do? 
 What harm has he done them ? By plunging the sinner
 
 92 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 in the abyss of death at the moment when his soul is 
 under the influence of an evil spell, will they condemn 
 him without mercy to eternal punishment ? Have they 
 the right to be his judges ? — She, his pure betrothed, so 
 sad and so cruelly undeceived, offers herself to God as 
 an expiatory victim ; she, suffering for the criminal, will 
 implore Heaven to send the sinner the repentance and 
 faith necessary for his redemption. 
 
 Tannhauser, who little by little has recovered from 
 his frenzy and has heard Elizabeth's prayer, falls to 
 earth, overcome by sorrow and remorse. Touched by 
 the generous supplication of the tender-hearted princess, 
 the Landgrave and his knights sheathe their swords ; the 
 Landgrave then induces him, whose soul is charged with 
 so heavy a crime, to go to seek pardon in Rome with a 
 band of young pilgrims, who are now just gathering from 
 all parts of Thuringia to undertake the holy journey. 
 If he returns absolved by the Sovereign Pontiff, they will 
 also forget his sin. All present unite with the Land- 
 grave in promising forgetfulness of his crime in that 
 event. Pious hymns are now heard in the distance : 
 they come from the band of young pilgrims already on 
 the march to the Holy City. Every one listens with 
 emotion ; and Tannhauser, now sustained by divine hope, 
 rushes with intense enthusiasm into the train of repent- 
 ant sinners. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Scene I. — The landscape is the same as that shown 
 at the end of Act I., but with an autumnal dress. The 
 day is at its decline ; on the mountain Elizabeth is seen 
 prostrate, fervently praying at the feet of the Virgin. 
 Wolfram descends through the woods at the left and 
 stops as he sees her; he contemplates the saintly creature,
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 93 
 
 who prays to Heaven day and night for him who has so 
 cruelly betrayed her. Already, thinks Wolfram, the 
 autumn approaches when the pilgrims are to return. 
 Will he be among the elect who have received absolution 
 for their sins ? 
 
 Absorbed in reflection, he continues his descent, when 
 in the distance an approaching chorus of old pilgrims is 
 heard; he again halts. Elizabeth has heard their hvmns ; 
 she beseeches the hosts of Heaven to assist her in this 
 moment of anguish, and rises to watch the pious travel- 
 lers as they pass praising the Lord and his mercies vouch- 
 safed to them. 
 
 Elizabeth looks anxiously for Tannhauser among the 
 saintly company ; not seeing him, she kneels in an atti- 
 tude of sorrowful resignation, while the procession re- 
 cedes ; and, in an ardent invocation to the Mother of 
 God, she blames herself for the profane desires and 
 earthly thoughts which formerly occupied her heart, 
 and beseeches the Divine Consolatress to reclaim her 
 and open to her the abode of the blessed, where she can 
 more effectually pray for him who still bears the burden 
 of his guilt. Her inspired countenance is raised towards 
 the sky ; she rises slowly, and when Wolfram, who has 
 been regarding her with profound emotion, approaches 
 and asks permission to accompany her, she makes him 
 understand by an affectionate and grateful gesture that 
 the road that she must take is that which leads to Heaven, 
 and no one may follow her. She walks slowly along the 
 road leading towards the castle. 
 
 Scenic II. — Wolfram sadly watches her departure, 
 then, being alone, he seizes his harp, and, after a prelude, 
 begins a song full of poetic melancholy, in which he 
 apostrophizes the lovely evening star whose pure rays il- 
 lume the dark night shrouding the valley and reveal the
 
 94 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 path to the perplexed traveller. To this serene star he 
 confides her who is about to leave the earth forever and 
 enter the abode of the blessed. 
 
 Scene III. — During his song, night has fallen ; a pil- 
 grim, exhausted with fatigue, with ragged clothes and 
 emaciated face, appears, leaning painfully upon his staff; 
 it is Tannhauser, in whom Wolfram recognizes with 
 consternation the still unpardoned sinner. How dare he 
 show his face in this country ? 
 
 Tannhauser, with a sinister manner, asks of him the 
 way to the Venusberg, which he once knew so well but 
 which he cannot find now. At these words Wolfram is 
 terror-stricken ; his old companion, then, has not been to 
 Rome to sue for divine grace? 
 
 Tannhauser's anger blazes forth, and in a recital of 
 poignant despair, he retraces the progress of his unhappy 
 voyage, his humility, his desire for mortification which 
 caused him to multiply the trials and difficulties of the 
 way ; then his arrival in Rome, his great hope at the 
 sight of the Pontiff who promised redemption to all 
 the penitents, and finally the breaking up of his whole 
 being when, with a broken heart, having confessed his 
 past crimes, he saw himself, the only one among thou- 
 sands of pilgrims, pitilessly repulsed by God's representa- 
 tive — the Sovereign Pontiff — who pronounced him 
 forever accursed, and predicted for him the sufferings of 
 an infernal furnace in which hope would no more blos- 
 som for him than his pilgrim's staff would ever again put 
 forth green leaves. 
 
 At that moment, so extreme was his despair that he 
 fell almost lifeless to the ground; but now, having 
 somewhat recovered, he can measure the extent of his 
 misery ; only one thing is left to him, and to this he is 
 hastening with the eagerness of despair : his shall be
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 95 
 
 Venus, his the corrupting enchantment of her ardent 
 delights. 
 
 Scene IV. — In vain Wolfram tries to arrest the un- 
 holy invocation on the lips of the unhappy man and take 
 him away with him : Venus has heard his call, and she 
 hastens to him. A light cloud floats into the valley, 
 delicious perfumes are borne on the air, through the rosy 
 mists are seen the seductive dances of the nymphs, and 
 soon a brilliant light reveals the goddess reclining upon 
 her couch. She calls the enraptured Tannhauser to her 
 side, reminding him of the myriad joys which await him 
 anew within her realm. Wolfram struggles desperately in 
 his attempt to tear his friend from these fatal seductions ; 
 but Tannhauser resists all the knight's virtuous exhorta- 
 tions. In another moment his soul will be lost, Venus 
 is about to seize her prey, once for all, when, for the 
 second time, the name of Elizabeth, that angel of purity, 
 pronounced by Wolfram, produces its blessed effect. 
 On hearing it, Tannhauser stands motionless, as if struck 
 by lightning. 
 
 Sckne V. — At this moment a chorus of men In the 
 distance proclaims the end of the pious martyr's suffer- 
 ings. Her soul, freed henceforth from earthly sorrows, 
 has taken its radiant flight to the celestial sphere, where 
 she intercedes for the pilgrim at the foot of the throne 
 of God. 
 
 Venus, recognizing at last that she is defeated, dis- 
 appears with all her magical attendants. 
 
 Down the valley descends the long train of nobles, 
 accompanying the Landgrave, then follow the pilgrims 
 carrying on a litter the body of the young saint and 
 chanting a sacred dirge. At a sign from Wolfram they 
 set down the mortal remains of Elizabeth in the centre 
 of the stage ; Tannhauser falls by its side, invoking the
 
 9*> THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 heavenly aid of the blessed Elizabeth, and dies, over- 
 whelmed with grief and repentance. 
 
 At this moment the young pilgrims advance, carrying 
 the cross, which is bursting into leaf and covered with 
 flowers, a miraculous manifestation of divine pardon, 
 and all present, deeply affected, sing an Alleluia in grati- 
 tude to Him who, taking pity on the sufferings of the 
 sinner and heeding the prayers of his gentle protectress, 
 has granted His supreme mercy to the guilty one. 
 
 LOHENGRIN 
 
 Act I. 
 
 Scene I. — The action is placed in the ioth century 
 in Brabant ; the first scene passes on the banks of the 
 Scheldt, near Antwerp. In the middle distance, on the 
 left, is an enormous ancient oak, behind which runs the 
 river, describing a curve of such extent that its windings 
 are visible a second time in the background. 
 
 At the rising of the curtain, the Emperor of Germanv, 
 Henry the Fowler, is sitting under an oak, surrounded 
 by the Counts of Saxony and Thuringia and the nobles 
 who form the King's Ban. Facing them are the nobles 
 and people of Brabant, headed by Frederick von Tel- 
 ramund and his wife, Ortrude. 
 
 The herald-at-arms, advancing, sounds the King's 
 call and demands the submission of his Brabancon 
 subjects; all swear fealtv. King Henry then rises and 
 describes the situation of Germany to his vassals: he 
 recalls his sanguinary struggles with the Hungarians, 
 the frequent invasions from the east, and the nine years' 
 truce which he has obtained and employed in fortifying 
 the frontiers and in drilling his armies ; but now that the
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 LOHENGRIN 
 
 97 
 
 CHARACTERS 
 
 in the order of their 
 first entrance. 
 
 ACT 
 I. 
 
 ACT 
 II. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Tab. 
 II. 
 
 Herald-at-Arms (bass). Appearing most 
 frequently escorted by 4 trumpeters sounding 
 1 1 iu King's call. 
 
 The Brabancon Knights ( Chorus : tenors, 
 basses). 
 
 King Henry (bass). King of Germany. 
 Hi lical character: Henry the Fowler, Em- 
 peror of Germany. 
 
 The Saxon Knights (Chorus: tenors, 
 basses). 
 
 Frederick of Telramundtbaryt.). Bra- 
 bancon count. Once Elsa's betrothed. Hus- 
 band of Ortrude; through ambition becomes 
 traitor to honour, and the accuser of the inno- 
 ce it Elsa. 
 
 Ortrude (mez. sopr). Wife of Frederick; 
 daughter of Ratbold, King of the Frisians; in 
 default of Elsa and her brother, heiress to the 
 crown of Brabant. Sorceress, sacrifices to pa- 
 gan gods. Frederick's evil genius. 
 
 Elsa of Brabant (sopr.). Daughter and 
 
 re : "i ill 1 ' Duke ol Brabant, falsely ac- 
 - ' 1 by Frederick and Ortrude of the murder 
 of her young brother. Marries Lohengrin. 
 
 Maidens (Chorus : sopr. contr.). 
 tendants. 
 
 Elsa's at- 
 
 Lohengrin (tenor). Knight of the Grail, 
 "t Parsifal; champion ol Elsa, whom 
 he marries. He is proclaimed Protector of 
 Brabant. 
 
 4 Brabancon Noblemen (2 ten., 2 basses). 
 I >ire with Frederick against Lohengrin. 
 
 4 Pages (2 sopr., 2 contr.). 
 
 Pages (Chorus: sopr., contr.). 
 
 ■ ■
 
 98 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 time has expired, the enemy, having refused all concilia- 
 tion, is again advancing threateningly and the sovereign 
 is organizing a universal enrolment of his people to 
 repulse his adversaries and force them to respect the 
 German Empire, which they will then no longer think 
 of insulting. 
 
 But on his arrival in this province, what was his grief 
 to hear of the discords to which it is a prey ! What 
 has happened, and why is it without a prince and given 
 up to intestine war? The sovereign questions Frederick 
 von Telramund on this subject and invites the virtuous 
 knight to reply without circumlocution. 
 
 Frederick, promising to give his King and sovereign a 
 true account, describes the events which have occurred 
 as follows : The old Duke of Brabant at his death left 
 two children ; a daughter, Elsa, and a young prince, 
 Godfrey, the heir to his throne, whose education had 
 been confided to his faithful knight, Telramund. What 
 was the grief of the latter one day on learning that the 
 young prince, whilst walking out with his sister, had dis- 
 appeared without leaving any trace behind ! Struck with 
 horror at the thought of the crime which Elsa alone 
 could have perpetrated, Frederick hastened to renounce 
 the hand of the maiden who had been promised to him- 
 self and to marry Ortrude ; now, he demands justice 
 against the odious criminal, at the same time reminding 
 King Henry that he is the direct heir to Brabant by his 
 relationship to the old Duke and also by Ortrude, his 
 wife, who is also of the princely blood. 
 
 All present, moved by the knight's accusation, try to 
 defend Elsa ; the King himself doubts her crime ; but 
 the implacable Frederick explains the dark designs of the 
 maiden, by saying that in her heart she has a secret love 
 which she would be more free to indulge if she became
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 99 
 
 sovereign mistress of Brabant in the place of her brother 
 whom she has assassinated. 
 
 Henry then decides to have the accused one brought 
 to trial without delay. He invokes the aid of God, so 
 that he may be enlightened with the wisdom of the Most 
 High in this solemn moment. 
 
 Scene II. — Elsa advances slowly, with a grave and 
 sad air, followed by her train of women ; her gentle and 
 sympathetic looks gain all hearts ; the sovereign asks her 
 if she is willing to accept him as a judge, and if she 
 knows of what crime she is accused. What has she to 
 say in her defence ? — To all these questions she only 
 replies by gestures of resignation ; then, with a far-away 
 look in her eyes, she softly murmurs the name of her 
 brother. The curiosity of every one is excited by this 
 strange behaviour, and the King asks her to explain her- 
 self. Elsa, as though speaking to herself and plunged 
 into a kind of ecstasy, recalls the day when, overwhelmed 
 with sorrow, she addressed an ardent supplication to 
 God, and fell into a deep sleep ; in this sleep a knight 
 clothed in shining armour appeared to her, sent by 
 Heaven to protect her. It is he whom she awaits; he 
 will be her defender and will make her innocence clear. 
 
 Seeing the gentle creature dreaming thus, the King 
 cannot believe in her guilt; Frederick, however, persists 
 in his role of accuser, and, the better to gain their atten- 
 tion, he recalls bis past valour, defying any one who is 
 willing to take Elsa's part to fight with him. All the 
 nobles challenge him. Henry, not knowing how to de- 
 cide, calls on the judgment of God, and asks Elsa whom 
 she will choose for her champion ; she again repeats that, 
 relying on the protection of God, she awaits the knight 
 who is to fight for her, and on whom she will bestow her 
 heart and crown, in reward for his devotion.
 
 ioo THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 The King orders the trumpets to be sounded to the 
 four cardinal points, and orders the combat to be pro- 
 claimed ; but a dismal silence is the only response. 
 Elsa, falling at the feet of the King, entreats him to 
 order a repetition of the call, which her knight may not 
 have heard in his distant retreat. Henry grants her re- 
 quest, and the trumpets sound once again. Elsa, in an 
 ardent prayer to the Most High, implores him not to 
 abandon her. 
 
 Suddenly, those spectators who are nearest to the 
 bank see in the distance on the river a boat drawn by a 
 swan and bearing a knight, standing erect, clothed in 
 silver armour. They call to all the assembly ; every one 
 cries a miracle, and all are lost in wonder ; meanwhile 
 the swan continues to advance, following the winding of 
 the river, and the frail bark soon brings the voyager 
 to the bank. The King looks on from his seat ; Elsa 
 gazes enraptured ; Frederick is a prey to the most in- 
 tense astonishment ; and Ortrude, whose face is marked 
 with a malevolent and anxious expression, angrily glances 
 at Elsa and at the mysterious arrival. 
 
 Scene III. — The knight, on leaving his boat, leans 
 towards the swan, and, bidding it a touching farewell, 
 tells it to return to the distant country whence they 
 come; the swan takes the boat back in the direction 
 traversed and majestically sails away up the river. The 
 mysterious stranger sadly follows it with his eyes ; then, 
 when it is lost to sight, he advances towards King Henry, 
 and, respectfully saluting him, announces that he has 
 come, sent by God, to defend the innocent maiden who 
 is unjustly accused of the blackest of crimes. Then, 
 addressing Elsa, who since his arrival has followed him 
 with her eyes without moving from her place and in a 
 kind of ecstasy, he asks her if she is willing to entrust
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 101 
 
 him with the care of defending her honour and if she 
 has confidence in his arm to fight against her enemy. 
 Elsa, who has been roused from her silent contemplation 
 by these words, and who casts herself at his feet to express 
 her ardent gratitude, answers in the affirmative ; he then 
 begs her to consent to become his wife when he has 
 victoriously defended her; if she will grant him this hap- 
 piness, he will crave one more favour, — which is that she 
 shall never seek to know, either by persuasion or by 
 strategy, either his name or whence he came. He 
 vehemently insists upon this important stipulation, and, 
 when the maiden has made him the formal promise 
 never to attempt to penetrate the mystery which sur- 
 rounds his coming, never to ask his name nor his origin, 
 he presses her tenderly to his heart before the eyes of the 
 King and the delighted populace. 
 
 Then he confides his betrothed to the King, loudly 
 proclaiming her innocence, and calls the Count of Telra- 
 mund to the combat, of which God shall be the judge. 
 
 Frederick betrays great agitation ; his followers, now 
 convinced of the injustice of his cause, persuade him to 
 decline the combat ; but, fearing to appear a coward if he 
 withdraws, he meets his adversary's challenge with an 
 answering defiance. The King then appoints three 
 witnesses for each champion, whom the herald-at-arms 
 soon sets face to face, after having instructed them in the 
 conditions of the combat. The two knights engage, 
 and, after several skilful passes, the stranger strikes 
 Frederick to the ground at the mercy of his sword ; 
 with one blow he might run him through; but, consider- 
 ing the proof sufficiently convincing as it is, he grants 
 him his life, and, turning towards the gracious sovereign, 
 he receives the radiant and agitated Elsa from his hands. 
 All present share in the joy of the conqueror ; the
 
 102 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 knights and nobles press into the lists, and, while Freder- 
 ick crawls painfully along the ground grieving over his 
 lost honour and Ortrude pursues the elect of God with 
 her malevolent mutterings, the Saxon nobles raise the 
 conqueror on his own shield ; and the Brabancons, plac- 
 ing Elsa on the King's shield which they cover with 
 their mantles, carry the betrothed pair off the stage in 
 triumph, amid the songs of joy and the enthusiastic 
 shouts of the entire wondering assembly. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Scene I. — The stage represents the inner court of 
 the castle of Antwerp. At the back is the Palace, 
 where the knights live, the windows of which are all 
 brilliantly lighted ; to the left, the porch of the church, 
 and, further back, the gate which leads into the town ; 
 to the left, the Kemenate, or women's quarters, which 
 is reached by a flight of steps leading to a kind of 
 balcony. 
 
 As the curtain rises, two people in sombre and miser- 
 able garments are sitting on the steps of the church. 
 They are the knight Telramund and his wife. Fred- 
 erick breaks out into imprecations against his compan- 
 ion : why has he no weapon left to strike her and rid 
 himself forever of her odious presence ! It was she 
 who led him into this combat and made him lose his 
 honour; she who, King and calumniating, affirmed she 
 had seen from afar Elsa accomplish her crime in the 
 forest ; she, again, who formerly induced him to re- 
 nounce the hand of the maiden to sue for an alliance 
 with her, Ortrude, who pretended, as the last scion of 
 the race of Ratbold, that she would soon be called to 
 reign over Brabant !
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNRR 
 
 103 
 
 O it rude scarcely replies to this flood of reproaches, 
 and lays the shame of his defeat upon Frederick; why 
 did he not oppose his adversary with rage such as this ! 
 — he could then soon have vanquished the self-styled pro- 
 tege of God! But, however that may be, says she, 
 everything may yet be repaired ; for the occult sciences 
 which she has studied have revealed to her what she has 
 to do and will supply her with the means : if Telra- 
 mund will only allow her to act, she will answer for her 
 success. First of all, they must trick Elsa and instil 
 into her heart a leaven of curiosity with regard to her 
 husband's past. If they can manage to make her break 
 her promise and question him regarding his origin, and 
 make him divulge it to her, the charm which protects 
 the mysterious knight will be broken. In order to force 
 the hero to reveal himself, it will suffice to accuse him 
 of having deceived the tribunal by the aid of sorcery. 
 If these means fail, there is still another : if, during the 
 combat, Frederick had succeeded in giving the body of 
 his adversary the slightest wound, the protecting charm 
 would equally have ceased to defend him. He must 
 therefore challenge him again and endeavour to wound 
 him slightly, for, however light the scratch may be, it 
 will suffice to break the spell. 
 
 Hearing these perfidious words, Frederick, in his 
 hatred, takes fresh courage and swears to his wife that 
 he will second her in her dark designs. 
 
 Scene II. — At this moment Elsa, clothed in white, 
 comes out to lean on the balcony of the Kemenate to 
 dream of her happiness. Her two enemies are still on 
 the steps of the church, but the darkness prevents her 
 from seeing them. 
 
 Ortrude comes under the balcony, and, calling with 
 an humble and lamentable voice, makes herself known
 
 io 4 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 to Elsa ; she implores her pity. What has she done to 
 be so cruelly stricken ? She asks herself in vain. Is 
 it because she has married him whom Elsa had so dis- 
 dainfully repulsed? Why has she incurred such dis- 
 grace ? And, continuing her hypocritical speech, she 
 excites the pity of the gentle Elsa, who, moved at her 
 great misfortunes, promises to protect her and restore 
 her to favour. 
 
 Whilst the maiden leaves the balcony to come to her, 
 Ortrude, seeing her victim already in her power, offers 
 up a wild prayer to the pagan gods, Wotan and Frei'a, 
 to whom she sacrifices in secret, but she resumes her 
 supplicating attitude on the return of Elsa, who raises 
 her kindly, promising that she will plead her cause with 
 the husband who is about to lead her to the altar ; she 
 will see that her friend and pj-oteg'ee, in magnificent 
 attire, shall accompany the nuptial train. 
 
 Ortrude, feigning the liveliest gratitude, says she 
 wishes to prove it by giving her some good advice — 
 Elsa must not trust this mysterious husband to whom 
 she is going to be united ; one day, perhaps, he will 
 depart as he came, deserting his too confiding compan- 
 ion. Elsa, troubled by Ortrude's words, answers that 
 she cannot doubt him whom she loves, and spurns these 
 insinuations; but Ortrude's perfidious machinations will 
 germinate, nevertheless. Ortrude enters the Palace with 
 her victim, whilst Frederick, remaining before the 
 church, unperceived, but having heard everything, hurls 
 his curses at the gentle creature. 
 
 Scene III. — Day is just breaking. It soon becomes 
 broad daylight ; the soldiers sound the reveille and an- 
 swer each other from tower to tower. The servants, 
 coming out of the Castle, go to the fountain to draw 
 water, the porter opens the massive gate, and people
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 105 
 
 begin to stir about. Four trumpeters appear at the 
 entrance of the Palace and sound the King's call ; the 
 nobles and knights come into the court-yard, and salute 
 each other and converse. 
 
 The herald-at-arms appears, and proclaims that, by 
 the King's will, Frederick is banished from the empire 
 for having falsely appealed to the judgment of God ; 
 furthermore, he threatens with the same fate whoever 
 shall afford him asylum or protection. Then, after 
 another flourish of trumpets, he declares, still in the 
 name of the King, that the stranger sent by God on 
 whom Elsa has bestowed her hand, in accepting the 
 crown, declines the title of Duke, for which he intends 
 to substitute that of Protector of Brabant, and invites 
 his new subjects to prepare without delay for the battles 
 in which, accompanying the King on his martial expe- 
 ditions, they will reap a new harvest of glory. 
 
 The people, who have attentively followed the pro- 
 clamation of the herald-at-arms, concur in the King's 
 sentiments with regard to Telramund as well as his 
 enthusiasm for the unknown knight, and joyfully approve 
 of his warlike projects ; but, while the crowd talks with 
 animation, in the front of the stage a group of four nobles 
 forms, who are discontented with the actions of the Pro- 
 tector and jealous of his new authority. Seeing that 
 they are evilly disposed towards his enemy, Frederick 
 approaches them craftily, and in a few words tells them 
 of the plan of the combat into which he is going to 
 enter against the stranger. 
 
 The nuptial train advances, and Frederick has only 
 time to conceal himself behind the nobles, who hide him 
 from the view of those present. 
 
 Scene IV. — Elsa appears in the middle of the train 
 arraved in her bridal robes. Ortrude follows her, also
 
 106 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 richly apparelled ; but, at the moment when her benefac- 
 tress is about to mount the steps of the church, her anger 
 blazes out, and, quickly placing herself between Elsa and 
 the door of the church, she declares she will not any 
 longer remain in the second place, and that she will re- 
 conquer her station, which a false judgment caused her 
 to lose. Who is he, this unknown, who has surprised 
 the confidence of all to the detriment of a knight unani- 
 mously esteemed until now ? Can he prove his nobility ? 
 Can he tell his origin, and from what country he comes ? 
 If he has forbidden her whom he is espousing to ques- 
 tion him upon this subject, it is doubtless because he has 
 grave reasons for keeping his secret. Elsa tries in vain 
 to stop this torrent of malevolence; Ortrude does not 
 cease until the King's train is seen approaching. 
 
 Scene V. — The monarch, only having heard the dis- 
 turbance from afar, demands the cause of it, and the 
 bridegroom, thus learning the blackness of Ortrude's heart, 
 sternly drives her away. After this brief incident the pro- 
 cession again forms and is about to enter the church, 
 when Frederick in his turn stops its progress, and, despite 
 the throng which wishes to ward him ofF, approaches the 
 King and presents the accusation which he has prepared 
 against his adversary: he formallv declares him guilty of 
 having suddenly surprised the public confidence at the 
 moment of the combat, and says that he wants to know 
 at least the name and origin of him who has robbed him 
 of his honour. The King and the whole assembly anx- 
 iously await the reply of the knight, who, whilst defend- 
 ing himself from all charge of disloyalty, refuses to reveal 
 his origin to Telramund. There is only one person to 
 whom he will reply if she asks it, and that is Elsa, who, 
 although greatly troubled, will yet not put the fatal 
 question ; but it is evident that her heart is disquieted to its
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 107 
 
 very depths, for the venom is producing its effect. The 
 King and the Brabancon nobles, for their own part, 
 have no doubt of the perfect honour of the Protector of 
 Brabant; all the sympathies of the sovereign as well as of 
 the people are on his side. In the meanwhile, Frederick 
 and Ortrude apart watch their victim, Elsa, and trace on 
 her features the dangerous thoughts to which their 
 perfidy has given rise in her heart. Whilst the sovereign 
 utters many noble words of confidence to his protege^ 
 the traitor stealthily approaches the anxious and fright- 
 ened Elsa ; he counsels her, in order to attach her hus- 
 band to her eternally and to render herself mistress of 
 the charm which will bind him forever, to consent to 
 accept his (Frederick's) support. He tells her that this 
 very night he will be near the nuptial chamber, ready to 
 answer her first call. Elsa's lover, surprising this odious 
 aside, advances threateningly towards his enemy, whose 
 dark schemes he divines. He drives him away, and 
 asks Elsa, for the last time, if she has sufficient confi- 
 dence in him never to seek to know his origin ; on her 
 passionate reply in the affirmative, he leads her to the 
 altar, accompanied with the good wishes of the whole 
 people. The bells peal, the organ is heard in the church, 
 and the bride, who at the moment of entering has en- 
 countered the menacing gaze of Ortrude, passes through 
 the door leaning in terror against her husband. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Scenk I. — The first scene takes us into the richly 
 decorated nuptial chamber. On the right, near a large 
 window open to the gardens, is a very low bed. On 
 the left, is a door leading to the other apartments. At 
 the back is another door through which enters the pro- 
 cession accompanying the newly-married pair, — Elsa
 
 io8 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 surrounded by her women, and the Protector escorted by 
 the King and nobles. 
 
 The lords and ladies sing a chorus, offering their good 
 wishes to the young couple, and then the King presents 
 Elsa to her husband ; pages next relieve the knight of 
 the rich mantle which covered his shoulders, whilst 
 Elsa's women also take off the garment which covered 
 her nuptial robe ; then all present, after saluting the 
 bridal pair, depart, continuing their songs, which die away 
 gradually in the distance. 
 
 Scene II. — Elsa, overcome with sweet emotion, falls 
 into the arms of her lover, who leads her to the couch, 
 where he holds her in a tender embrace. He murmurs 
 words of love in her ear, and she replies with ardour ; 
 before thev had met, their hearts had already known and 
 understood each other. Had she not already in a dream 
 seen him on whom she had called in her distress to de- 
 fend her ? And at this appeal from afar had he not 
 hastened to her, being led by the invincible power of 
 Love ? 
 
 He then passionately utters the name of his well-be- 
 loved, who in turn deplores her inability to pronounce 
 the name of the husband to whom she has given herself 
 entirely ; why will he not consent to reveal it to her now, 
 when no indiscreet ear can overhear them ? He feigns 
 not to understand her words, and, tenderly embracing 
 her, he draws her to the window to inhale the intoxicat- 
 ing perfumes which rise from the flowers. But Elsa, 
 possessed by the fatal idea which was suggested by 
 Ortrude and Frederick, repeats her question, and be- 
 comes more insistent ; in vain her husband begs her to 
 have that absolute confidence in him which he had in 
 her, when, without any proof, he believed in her in- 
 nocence and vouched for it. Elsa insists ; the knight,
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER iou 
 
 to calm her, assures her that she has nothing to fear re- 
 garding his origin, which is even more exalted than that 
 of the King, and that the region whence he comes is 
 glorious and splendid. 
 
 These words only excite in Elsa a fever of curiosity, 
 which soon becomes a veritable delirium ; she thinks 
 she sees the swan coming to deprive her of her hero, 
 and at the height of agony and frenzy, she plainly puts 
 the fatal questions which she has taken an oath never to 
 ask. Even at the forfeit of her life, she wants to learn 
 the name of her husband, and to know who he is and 
 whence he comes. 
 
 Hardly has she uttered these words, which he vainly 
 tries to arrest on her lips, when Frederick and the four 
 Brabancon nobles who accompany him burst into the 
 room brandishing their weapons. Elsa, recovering her- 
 self, rushes for her knight's sword, which he has laid on 
 the couch, and gives it to him ; he springs at Frederick 
 and with a single blow stretches him dead at his feet. 
 The traitor's companions, in terror, fall at the feet of 
 the hero, whilst Elsa, overcome, faints in the arms of 
 her husband, who sadly gazes upon her. He then orders 
 the four nobles to carry the body of Telramund to the 
 King's tribunal ; then, calling Elsa's women, he orders 
 them to robe their mistress and to lead her before the 
 sovereign, in whose presence he will answer to the in- 
 iquitous questions which she has had the fatal impru- 
 dence to ask him. 
 
 A curtain veils the whole scene. Trumpets and 
 martial flourishes are heard. 
 
 Scene III. — When the curtain rises, the scene again 
 shows the course of the Scheldt, the place where the 
 boat landed, the meadow and the oak; the same setting 
 as the first act.
 
 no THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 The Brabancon nobles, who have gathered to fight 
 under the royal banner, defile past, one after the other, 
 followed by their esquires and standard-bearers ; the 
 counts hail the arrival of King Henry, who thanks 
 them for their noble ardour. The arrival of the Pro- 
 tector of Brabant is alone awaited ; but suddenly ex- 
 clamations of terror are heard at the sight of the four 
 nobles bearing the corpse of Telramund on a bier. 
 Elsa follows, pale and trembling, and the King, who has 
 advanced to meet her, asking her the cause of her 
 trouble, leads her to an elevated seat prepared for her, 
 and returns to his place under the oak. 
 
 The knight then appears, clothed in his silver mail ; 
 he advances alone and without escort ; his face is marked 
 with deep sadness, and he replies to the sovereign s 
 gracious welcome by expressing the grief he feels at not 
 being able to lead his troops to battle. He has only 
 come to this assemblv to fulfil certain painful duties; 
 first, to justify himself for an act to which he was 
 forced in defence of his own life ; and he relates the plot 
 by which he nearly fell a victim to Telramund. Was 
 he in the right in killing his enemv, and will his sovereign 
 pardon him ? Henry reassures him on the legality of 
 his act and turns with horror from the corpse of the 
 traitor exposed to his view. 
 
 Then the hero, continuing his sad task, loudlv and 
 before everybody accuses the woman he loves of having 
 broken the promise she solemnly made in this very 
 place, and renewed many times. Blinded by the per- 
 fidious counsels of his enemies, she has foolishlv broken 
 her oath, and, since she exacts it, it shall be here, in the 
 presence of all, that he will reveal the redoubtable secret, 
 the revelation of which can only be made at the cost of 
 the happiness of both.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER in 
 
 In a far and mysterious country, on a peak pure of all 
 profane contact, is situated, in the heart of a magnificent 
 castle, a temple which has no equal in any other country. 
 In this temple is kept a precious vessel, which was for- 
 merly brought there by a legion of angels, and which, in 
 its sacred shrine, may only have for its guardians knights 
 of the purest and noblest nature. This vessel is en- 
 dowed with a divine and miraculous power, which is 
 renewed once a year by a dove, descending from the 
 celestial regions ; this vessel is the Holv Grail. 
 
 Whoever is elected its guardian receives by that very 
 fact a supernatural power, but on the express condition 
 that he shall not allow his secret to be penetrated by 
 any human being; for, if his quality is once known, if he 
 remains among mankind, he will be deprived of his 
 power and influence ; so that what obliged the hero so 
 rigorously to conceal his origin was that he is one of the 
 servants of the Grail. His father, Parsifal, 1 is the prince 
 of these knights, to which glorious band he, Lohen- 
 grin, belongs. 
 
 At this name, now pronounced for the first time, the 
 entire assembly is moved with respectful awe ; Elsa is 
 utterly overcome with her emotion, and Lohengrin, tak- 
 ing her in his arms, bids her a tender and sorrowful fare- 
 well. In vain the wretched woman, now understanding 
 the magnitude of her fault, tries to keep her beloved 
 husband, and offers to make amends for her unfortunate 
 curiosity bv the hardest means of expiation ; in vain also 
 the sovereign and the warriors pray the knight to 
 remain to lead their arms. Lohengrin must go. He 
 has already offended by his protracted absence from the 
 
 1 Like the Templars, the Knights of the Holy Grail took, the 
 vow of chastity and celibacy. Only tluir Grain! Master, their 
 Priest-King, was excepted, in order to perpetuate the dynasty.
 
 ii2 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 Grail ; but, before going, he wishes to leave a consola- 
 tory promise with the monarch who has received him 
 with such noble confidence, and he announces that 
 German soil shall never have to submit to the shame of 
 a barbarian invasion. Henry's vassals owe this boon to 
 the purity of their sovereign. 
 
 Suddenly a clamour is heard in the direction of the 
 river-bank. It is caused by those who see the swan 
 bringing again the boat, empty this time, as it had done 
 before, when it brought the knight. Lohengrin goes 
 to it, and sadly gazes upon it, telling it how grieved he 
 is to see it again under such painful circumstances, when 
 he had thought to see it one day under happier skies, 
 free and liberated from the charm which now holds it in 
 bonds. The by-standers do not catch the meaning of 
 his words. 
 
 Turning again to Elsa, Lohengrin, in great grief, tells 
 her how he had hoped one day to restore that brother 
 whom she thought lost forever. He is deprived of this 
 pleasure since he is going away; but if Godfrey is ever 
 restored to her affection, she is to give him, in the name 
 of the lost knight, this horn, which will be invaluable to 
 him in the hour of danger ; this sword, which will 
 render him invincible ; and this ring, which will remind 
 him of the champion of the defenceless. He kisses 
 Elsa's brow, and she falls fainting into the arms of her 
 women ; he then walks towards the boat, whilst all 
 present manifest deep sorrow. 
 
 At this moment Ortrude appears, giving every sign of 
 brutal joy ; addressing Elsa she reveals that the mvNte- 
 rious swan that is taking the beloved hero away forever 
 is no other than Godfrey himself, whom she has thus 
 transformed by witchcraft, and who will now be irre- 
 vocably lost ; she adds that if Lohengrin had remained,
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 113 
 
 he would have had the power to deliver the youth and 
 restore the heir of Brabant to his sister's affection. 
 
 Lohengrin, who was about to embark, halts, on hear- 
 ing this fresh revelation of Ortrude's atrocity. He falls 
 on his knees on the river-bank and lifts up a fervent and 
 silent prayer to Heaven. A white dove is then seen 
 hovering above the boat ; it is the dove of the Grail. 
 Lohengrin approaches the swan and takes oft" the chain 
 which attaches it to the boat ; the swan dives and disap- 
 pears, and in its stead there appears a youth whom all 
 present recognize as Godfrey, the young Duke of 
 Brabant. 
 
 Lohengrin then springs into the boat, whose course 
 is immediately directed by the dove. 
 
 As they recede in the distance, Elsa, in a transport of 
 fugitive joy, receives her brother in her arms, and then 
 falls back fainting, seeing that her lover has left her for- 
 ever. Ortrude, recognizing that her sorceries have been 
 baffled, drags herself away in a dying condition, and 
 expires with rage, whilst the nobles, happy at the deliv- 
 erance of their young lord, gather about him with mani- 
 festations of enthusiastic delight. 
 
 TRISTAN UND ISOLDE 
 
 Isolde, Princess of Ireland, was the affianced bride of 
 Sir Morold, an Irish knight, who went to war in Corn- 
 wall and met. his death in a combat with Tristan, the 
 nephew of King Mark. The ungenerous adversary, in 
 cruel irony, sent the head of his victim to the princess, 
 who discovered in the deep wound a splinter of steel, left 
 by the murderer's weapon. 
 
 But, in the struggle, Tristan has himself been hurt by 
 Morold's poisoned blade, and his wound will not heal ;
 
 ii 4 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 TRISTAN UND ISOLDE 
 
 CHARACTERS 
 
 in the order of their 
 first entrance. 
 
 SCENES : 
 
 ACT 
 I. 
 
 ACT 
 II. 
 
 ACT 
 III. 
 
 I 2 
 
 3 
 
 4 
 
 5 
 
 l 
 
 2 
 
 3 
 
 i 
 
 2 J 3 
 
 A Young Sailor (tenor). (.Episode.) 
 
 Isolde (sopr.). Princess, somewhat of a sorcer- 
 ess, daughter of tile sovereigns of Ireland; was 
 betrothed to Morold, whom Tristan has killed ; 
 becomes the wife of King Mark. Loves Tris- 
 tan, at first in secret. 
 
 Brangane (sopr.). Isolde's attendant and de- 
 voted confidant. 
 
 Kurwenal(bass). Squire; an old and faithful 
 servant, devotedly attached to Tristan. 
 
 Tristan (tenor). Knight of Breton origin ; 
 nephew of King Mark, defender of the 
 throne of Cornwall. Loves Isolde, at first in 
 secret. 
 
 The Sailors {Chorus: tenors, basses). 
 
 Knights, Esquires, Men - at - Arms 
 
 {Chorus: tenors, basses). 
 
 HI 
 ■ 
 
 a 
 
 ■ 
 
 ( 
 
 IS. 
 
 ■ 
 
 ■ 
 ■ 
 ■ 
 
 nvis 
 
 a 
 
 ■ 
 
 ■ 
 
 a 
 
 iWe 
 
 ■ 
 
 ■ 
 
 a 
 a 
 
 ) 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 a 
 
 a 
 ■ 
 a 
 
 a 
 a 
 
 a 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 a 
 a 
 
 Melot tenor). One of King Mark's knights. 
 Tristan's treacherous friend. Loves Isolde in 
 secret and takes revenge upon her. 
 
 King Mark (bass). A generous prince 
 King of Cornwall, Tristan's uncle, and Isolde's 
 husband. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 a 
 a 
 
 
 •• 
 
 a 
 a 
 
 A Shepherd (tenor). (Episode.) 
 A Pilot (bass). 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 a 
 
 
 a 
 a
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 115 
 
 he then remembers that the young Irish princess pos- 
 sesses the secret of some precious balms which alone can 
 cure his hurt, and he determines to go to her and request 
 the aid of her knowledge. 
 
 In a dying condition, he takes ship for Ireland, and, 
 presenting himself incognito to Isolde under the name of 
 Tantris, he implores her assistance. The young princess, 
 moved by the sufferings of the dying man, devotedly 
 tends him ; but one day the truth is unexpectedly re- 
 vealed : her lover must have received his death-blow from 
 the sword of Tantris, for its blade contains a notch which 
 corresponds exactly to the fragment of steel found in 
 Morold's wound. 
 
 Isolde indignantly brandishes the weapon over the 
 head of the impostor: she is about to strike the fatal 
 blow, when their eyes meet. Tristan's glance is suppli- 
 cating, and Isolde has mercy on him. She conceals 
 from every one the secret that she has discovered ; and 
 Tristan shall return to his home, safe and well, and re- 
 lieve the princess of his hated presence. The knight 
 departs, after many protestations of his gratitude and de- 
 votion ; but, oh treason ! he soon returns under his true 
 name of Tristan, and accompanied by a brilliant retinue, 
 to demand the hand of the maiden for his uncle, King 
 Mark. Isolde's parents accept this alliance for their 
 daughter, who in obedience must depart for the realm of 
 her future husband under the knight's escort. 
 
 But in secret she grieves bitterly: for she believes that 
 she is loved by this hero whom she has saved and who has 
 so unworthily betrayed her; and without acknowledging 
 it even to herself, she loves him, despite the blood-stained 
 past which rises as a barrier between them. 
 
 Such is the condition of affairs when the curtain rises 
 for the first act.
 
 no THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 We will only sketch this, and the two others, briefly, 
 and with bold outlines. In the poem of Tristan the situa- 
 tions are simple and the episodes not numerous. The 
 whole interest of the drama lies in the various emotions 
 of the hero and heroine. How can we explain them 
 without weakening the intense feeling called forth by the 
 representation ? Will it not be better to leave every one 
 to appreciate and feel it according to his own nature, 
 than to destroy its bloom by unnecessarily insisting upon 
 details which are purely psychological ? 
 
 Act I. 
 
 Scene I. — Isolde is aboard the ship which is bring- 
 ing her to Cornwall ; a tent made of rich tapestries has 
 been erected on the deck and is completely closed at the 
 back. The princess is lying on a couch ; a melancholy 
 song, which a sailor is singing from the mast above, 
 wounds and troubles her, and she gives way to her 
 despair when she learns from her attendant, Brangane, 
 that land has been sighted and that the voyage is nearly 
 over. 
 
 Scene II. — She sends her companion with an order 
 for Tristan to appear before her ; from the beginning of 
 the voyage he has persistently avoided her, thus forgetting 
 the deference which he owes to his sovereign. Brangane 
 carries her mistress's order to the knight, who, although 
 greatly moved on hearing the name Isolde spoken, 
 nevertheless recovers himself and respectfully, but firmly, 
 refuses to leave the helm of the ship confided to his care. 
 
 Scene III. — Brangane reports the knigbt-'s reply to 
 her mistress, and Isolde, now giving full rein to her bit- 
 terness, reveals something of her secret to her companion, 
 and tells her of the earnest care which she formerly be-
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 117 
 
 stowed upon Tristan, who has so ill rewarded her com- 
 passion for him. Hiding the true cause of her grief, she 
 revolts against the idea of becoming the bride of the 
 King of Cornwall, whom she considers unworthy to be 
 united with one whose brow may wear the royal circlet 
 of Ireland. 
 
 Brangane tries in vain to calm her and to justify the 
 conduct of Tristan, who, according to her ideas, has 
 brilliantly paid his debt of gratitude by obtaining for her 
 the gift of so beautiful a kingdom as that of Cornwall. 
 Isolde is thoughtful, and, talking to herself, deplores that 
 she is condemned to the torture of living forever beside 
 an accomplished being whom she cannot inspire with 
 love. She is thinking of Tristan; but Brangane, mis- 
 interpreting her words, advises her, if she fears that King 
 Mark may not love her as much as she desires, to have 
 recourse to the wonderful philtres which her mother, the 
 Queen of Ireland, gave her at parting. Among these is 
 one which is infallible in subjecting all who drink it to 
 the power of love. Isolde with dark resolve accepts her 
 attendant's counsel and makes her bring the precious 
 coffer containing the magic potions. But it is not the 
 love-philtre that she chooses ; she wants one still more 
 potent, and selects a flask filled with the elixir of death : 
 this she will induce Tristan to quaff. 
 
 Sckne IV. — Haste is imperative, for they are near- 
 ing land : even now they see the flag of rejoicing 
 floating above the battlements of the roval castle. 
 Kurwenal, Tristan's faithful squire, comes to announce 
 that they are entering port. Isolde then sends to ask 
 Tristan for one moment's conversation, and orders the 
 terrified Brangane to pour out the fatal draught in a cup. 
 In vain her distracted attendant tries to turn her from 
 her fatal purpose ; Isolde imperiously commands ; she
 
 n8 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 makes a violent effort to appear calm on the arrival of 
 Tristan, who respectfully presents himself before her. 
 
 Scene V. — For a long time they look at each other 
 in silence ; at last Isolde, after reproaching him for 
 having persistently neglected her during the voyage, 
 reminds him that there is a debt of blood between them 
 which she has not forgotten : she has not yet pardoned 
 the murder of her lover; and since no man has come 
 forward to avenge his death, it is she who must punish 
 the guilty one. Tristan listens, pale and sombre ; he 
 hands her his sword and is ready to die. 
 
 But no, says Isolde to him, she has no right to de- 
 prive the King of his most faithful supporter, the one to 
 whom he owes both title and crown ; and, since she has 
 already spared the life of Morold's murderer, she must 
 pardon him again. Let him therefore quaff the cup of 
 reconciliation and forgetfulness. Whilst the sailors have 
 been raising their cries of joy at the approach of land, 
 Brangane, trembling all over, has been preparing the 
 fatal philtre. Isolde snatches the cup from her hands 
 and gives it to Tristan. 
 
 Tristan has divined Isolde's fell design, but reso- 
 lutely receives the draught which will deliver him from 
 the griefs with which his heart also is overwhelmed ; he 
 raises it to his lips and drinks; but Isolde immediately 
 snatches away the cup, drinks it to the dregs, and throws 
 it away. 
 
 Overcome with intense emotion, thev gaze at each 
 other in ecstasy •, in the crisis of that supreme moment, 
 their eyes make no attempt to hide the secret which 
 consumes their hearts ; at last they fall into each other's 
 arms and remain locked in a long embrace, whilst Bran- 
 gane, distractedly hovering about them, tries to measure 
 the magnitude of her intentional mistake : for the elixir
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 119 
 
 of death she has substituted the love-potion! The two 
 lovers, absorbed in each other, are unconscious of every- 
 thing around them ; they scarcely notice the hustle 
 which tells of their arrival in port. Mechanically Isolde 
 submits to be clothed with the royal mantle; Brangane, 
 to recall her to her ordinary senses, now despairingly 
 confesses how she dared to make the fatal substitution. 
 Tristan and Isolde look at each other in wild distress; 
 Isolde falls fainting in the arms of her servant, whilst 
 the entire crew joyously hails the arrival of the King on 
 board the ship. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Scene I. — The threshold of Isolde's dwelling, with 
 steps leading down into the park planted with large 
 trees, over which reigns a clear and radiant summer 
 night. A lighted torch is placed beside the door. In 
 the distance hunting-horns are heard growing gradually 
 fainter, to which Brangane, standing on the steps, lends 
 an attentive ear. Isolde, in great agitation, issues from 
 her apartment and interrogates her attendant. She im- 
 patiently awaits the moment when the royal hunt shall 
 be far enough away from the palace for her to give the 
 signal which will bring Tristan to her feet ; but Bran- 
 gane implores her to be prudent: she has a suspicion 
 that a trap has been set for the two lovers, and in particu- 
 lar suspects Melot, who, from the very hour when the 
 King boarded the ship to receive his bride, suspiciously 
 eyed the agitation of Tristan and Isolde, and must have 
 discovered the cause of the trouble which reigned in their 
 hearts. Ever since then he has played the spy, and this 
 nocturnal chase, undertaken at his suggestion, probably 
 covers some perfidious snare. Despite the protestations 
 of the Queen, who has a blind faith in the fidelity of
 
 120 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 Melot, Tristan's friend and confidant, Brangane laments 
 the disobedience which led her to substitute the love- 
 philtre for the death-potion ; far better would have been 
 a fatal and sudden end than these cruel agonies. She 
 bitterly accuses herself of all the evils which may fall 
 upon her mistress. 
 
 No, replies the latter, Brangane is not to be blamed. 
 The goddess Minne 1 is responsible for all : she it is to 
 whom life and death are subject ; she has transformed 
 hatred into love ; Isolde is henceforth her vassal, and 
 will blindly submit to her decrees. 
 
 Notwithstanding Brangane's prudent counsels, Isolde 
 seizes the torch and extinguishes it on the ground : this 
 is the appointed signal for Tristan. Brangane turns away 
 in consternation and slowly mounts the steps leading to 
 the tower. 
 
 Isolde peers down the avenue, trying to pierce the 
 darkness ; at last her gestures show that she sees her 
 lover; her emotion is at its height. 
 
 Scene II. — Tristan enters impetuously; they pas- 
 sionately rush into each other's arms; their hearts over- 
 flow with love and rapture ; they curse the light of day, 
 which has always antagonized their happiness : was it 
 not day that led Tristan to Ireland to demand Isolde for 
 King Mark ? Was it not also day, which, shedding a 
 false light on the knight, caused him to be hated by her 
 who now cherishes him with her whole heart ? Ah, why 
 cannot these lovers shroud themselves forever in the 
 sweet twilight of night and death that should indissohibly 
 unite their souls and their destinies ! They sit upon a 
 flowery bank and remain locked in a long embrace, call- 
 ing for death which they so ardently desire. 
 
 1 Minne personifies love. She is the protectress of lovers.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 121 
 
 Absorbed in this ecstasy, they take no heed of the fly- 
 ing hours and lose all count of time. Brangane, who is 
 keeping watch above, warns them that the dreaded day 
 is breaking and bringing danger with it. Twice, while 
 engrossed with each other, she breaks in upon them ; 
 then suddenly gives a piercing cry of alarm, and, at the 
 same moment, the brave and devoted Kurwenal rushes in 
 backwards, brandishing his sword. 
 
 Scene III. — Behind him Melot and King Mark, fol- 
 lowed by several courtiers, press tumultuously forward 
 and halt before the couple, intently regarding them with 
 various expressions. Brangane has run to her mistress, 
 who has turned away and before whom Tristan with an 
 instinctive movement, has spread his mantle to shield her 
 from the gaze of the intruders. 
 
 Melot boasts to the King, who stands stupefied with 
 grief, of the great service he has rendered him, and for 
 which the King has not had the grace to thank him. 
 He is too deeply distressed at the terrible discovery he 
 has just made. This Tristan, whom he regarded as the 
 soul of honour and virtue, who was the hope of his de- 
 clining years, for whose sake, until now, he had refused 
 to take a second wife, since the death of the first, so as 
 to leave him his sole heir, — it is he, this perfidious 
 nephew, who brought him the marvellous bcautv whom, 
 in his adoration, the generous King has respected as if he 
 were her father; he it is, who, after having made his heart 
 more sensitive to grief by the possession of this treasure, 
 ends by giving him this mortal wound, and. pours into 
 his soul the cruel poison of suspicion against her whom 
 he loves best in all the world. Why has he cast him 
 into this hell from which nothing can again release him? 
 
 Tristan, who has listened to the reproaches of this 
 noble prince with ever-increasing sorrow, casts a look
 
 122 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 of deep pity upon him; his secret he cannot tell ; none 
 shall ever learn it. Then, turning to Isolde, who looks 
 at him with yearning eyes, he tells her that he will set 
 out for that dreary country where his mother gave birth 
 to him in sorrow and death. There his well-beloved 
 may find an asylum, if she wishes to follow him to his 
 sad retreat. Isolde replies that nothing shall prevent 
 her from following him, he has only to show her the 
 way ; her lover softly kisses her brow ; but at this 
 point, Melot, boiling with rage, draws his sword and 
 attacks Tristan, who places himself on guard. Their 
 swords cross, and Tristan sinks, wounded bv his enemy. 
 He falls into KurwenaPs arms, as Isolde throws herself, 
 weeping, upon his breast. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Scene I. — The scene represents the wild and desolate 
 garden of Tristan's old manor, Kareol, situated in Brit- 
 tany, upon an eminence beside the sea. Far awav the 
 horizon line is visible above the walls, which are half in 
 ruins and covered with vegetation. At the back is the 
 gate of a feudal castle with loop-holes. In the centre of 
 the stage, under the shadow of a lime-tree, is the bed on 
 which Tristan lies. 
 
 The unfortunate man is dying of the wound which the 
 traitor Melot gave him ; his faithful Kurwenal has brought 
 him in a bark here, to the domain of his ancestors, in a 
 dying condition, and battles with death for him, impatiently 
 awaiting the arrival of Isolde, for whom he has de- 
 spatched a faithful servant to Cornwall. A shepherd, 
 who has been placed on the look-out at the top of the 
 cliff to signal the coming of the ship that is bringing Isolde 
 the moment it appears on the horizon, plays upon his 
 pipe a sad and plaintive melody, which will be changed
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 123 
 
 for joyful notes when the longed-for sail appears in the 
 offing. 
 
 At the raising of the curtain, he has left his post of 
 observation for a moment, and has come to inquire for 
 particulars about his master ; what mysterious and fatal 
 adventure has brought him to this sad state ? Kurwenal re- 
 fuses to reply, and sends him back again to watch the lonely 
 horizon, on which no vessel is yet visible. The shep- 
 herd resumes his melancholy music, whose rhythms rouse 
 the sufferer from his deadly torpor. At first he does 
 not recognize his surroundings ; the good Kurwenal 
 helps him to collect his thoughts ; but the sole idea that 
 his mind clearly grasps is that of Isolde. His love 
 again takes complete possession of him, he calls dis- 
 tractedly for his well-beloved, and life burns with 
 temporary strength when his faithful servant promises 
 him the early arrival of his adored one. In his fever he 
 sees all his sad life pass before his eyes; his unhappy 
 vouth, his unlucky voyage to Ireland, and the fateful 
 potion — the manifest cause of all his misfortunes. His 
 excitement constantly increases, but his strength fails 
 him, and he falls back fainting. The frightened Kur- 
 wenal revives him with difficulty. Why does not the 
 ship arrive and bring joy and healing ? 
 
 Sckne II. — Suddenly a jovous melodv is heard; it 
 is the signal agreed on to announce the good news. 
 Kurwenal, who, at Tristan's request, has mounted to the 
 top of the tower, already sees the flag of joyfulness flut- 
 tering among the sails. Isolde is coming ; the ship has 
 passed the dreaded headland and is entering the port. 
 The dearlv-beloved makes signals, she springs to shore, 
 and Kurwenal goes to welcome her, leaving Tristan a 
 prey to the greatest excitement. The wounded man, 
 thinking that he can henceforth defy death, springs to
 
 124 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 meet his love ; but he has over-estimated his strength : 
 it tails him, and he falls dying into the arms of his 
 adored one. 
 
 Death, once invoked with such ardour, has at last 
 heard the call; night, the blessed adversary of hostile 
 day, shrouds him in her veil. Kneeling beside him, 
 Isolde gently winds her arms around him and entreats 
 him to let her cure his deep wound, and to live if onlv for 
 an hour; but, seeing him forever deaf to her voice, she 
 falls dying upon the bodv of him she has so dearly loved. 
 
 Scene III. — Kurwenal, mute with grief, has been 
 present at this heart-rending scene; his glance- never 
 wanders from Tristan. At this moment a clash of arms 
 is heard ; the shepherd runs in to announce that a 
 second ship has just entered port. Great confusion fol- 
 lows ; Kurwenal, thinking this a hostile invasion on the 
 part of King Mark, rushes upon Melot, who is one of 
 the first to enter, and kills him. He is, himself, mor- 
 tally wounded in the fight, and returns to die beside the 
 body of his beloved master. And yet what a mis- 
 take he made ! The noble and magnanimous King, 
 informed too late, alas ! by Brangane of the disastrous 
 effects of the philtre, and convinced that Fate was alone 
 to blame for the treachery of the two beings whom he 
 so dearly loved, had come to bring them his pardon and 
 to unite them forever. He gently reproaches Isolde for 
 not having confided in him; he has been so happy at 
 discovering the innocence of his dearest friend ! The 
 unhappy woman does not understand ; with wild eyes 
 she gazes on the mortal remains of TristaYi, but her soul is 
 alreadv taking its flight, and, transfigured by the kind hand 
 of death, she expires" in her faithful Brangane's arms. 
 
 King Mark blesses the dead amidst the deep emotion 
 of all present.
 
 DIE MEISTERSINGER 
 
 
 
 ■v 
 
 A ,7 
 
 act at 
 
 ■.*.«*, fa*!* 
 
 lit 
 
 ■'■ 2 
 
 
 ..»,., 
 
 .. j. ^ 
 
 The Congregation of the Faithful (Ourrus: sopr., contr., ten,, basses). 
 
 
 
 
 
 Walter von Stolzing ■ -\ V-m.-j: 1 ranconian fcnight.poet and musician of talent; 
 
 ■■■ 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 .■■ 
 
 Eva (sopr.). Pogner's daughter; die precious reward promised to the victor in the contest. 
 
 
 ..■■.■■■a 
 
 
 .■■ 
 
 Magdalene (sopr. ). Eva's nurse, confidante, and servant ; engaged to the young apprentice, 
 
 
 ■■■■■■ 
 
 
 .■■ 
 
 
 David (tenor). Sachs's pupil and apprentice; Magdalene's lover. 
 
 !■■ 
 
 ■■■....■■ 
 
 ■ 
 
 .■■ 
 
 The Apprentices {Chorus : contr, . ten. i Band r .f students, always disposed to mischief; 
 
 ■ ■ 
 
 ■ ■ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 'Fogner (bass). Goldsmith; citizen of Nuremberg and Metstemnger. Father of Eva. 
 
 
 ■ ■■ 
 
 
 
 
 
 'A 
 
 a 
 a 
 
 Beckmesser (baryt.). Toivn clerk: an absurd and disagreeable character, pedantic and 
 Hans Sachs (bass). Shoemaker and popular pm 
 
 
 __ 
 
 
 ■ ■ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 - 
 - 
 
 Vogelgesang (tenor). Furrier Member of the Corporation of the Meistersinger. 
 
 
 ■■ 
 
 
 
 
 
 Nachtigal (bass). Tinsmith. " » " " 
 
 
 ■■ 
 
 
 
 
 
 Kothner (bass). Baker. " " " " 
 Ortel (bass). Soapmaker. " " " ■ 
 
 
 
 
 
 3 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Zorn (tenor), Peirterer. " " " " 
 
 
 
 
 .... ■ 
 
 
 a 
 
 Moser (tenor). Tailor. " '* " " 
 Eisslinger (tenor). Grocer. " *' " u 
 Folt2 (bass). Braaier. u " - " 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 
 ..... 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Schwartz (bass) Stocking-weaver " " " " 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 
 
 The Night- Watchman (bass). A comic character (episode). 
 
 
 ■■•■ 
 
 
 
 Neighbours {Chorus: sopr.). 
 CompanionB (Chorus; ten., basses). 
 Old Citizens (Clients: basses). 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 The Shoemakers (Chorus: ten,, basses). 
 The Tailors (Chorus; ten., basses). 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 The Bakers (Chorus: ten., basses). 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 
 
 1
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 125 
 
 DIE MEISTERSINGER 
 
 I think it well to give a less detailed analysis of the 
 poem of Die Meistersinger than of the dramas, because, 
 even at the first hearing, there is much less on which 
 the spectator needs to be informed. 
 
 It is a comedy full of wit and tender emotion ; and if 
 ignorance of the German language prevents our com- 
 prehension of the numerous jests and witticisms, yet the 
 gay and light-hearted character of the music and the 
 suggestive gestures of the actors make it almost as easy 
 to understand as if it were merely a pantomime. 
 
 The essential thing is to form a clear idea of the 
 principal characters: Sachs is the type of kindness, up- 
 rightness and good sense; Beckmesser, his antithesis, is 
 the ridiculous and malicious pedant ; Pogner thinks it a 
 sublime idea to set his daughter up for competition-, 
 David is a gay companion; Magdalene a fine servant; and 
 Walter and Eva are lovers of a highly poetic nature. 
 
 The Meistersinger are not in the least grotesque in 
 themselves, because of their serious conviction : they are 
 good and honest citizens who have appointed themselves 
 conservators of the art of singing, and are very rigid with 
 regard to the observance of traditional rules, from which 
 they will not allow any deviation. 
 
 All their names are strictly historic, as is e\ ident from 
 a document published at Altdorf in 1697, by J. Chris- 
 topher Wagenseil ; we also learn from it that the meet- 
 ing of the Meistersinger took place after the noonday 
 service in the church of Saint Katharine, which is now 
 closed. The odd names of the various modes and the 
 rules of tablature also appear in the same work, which is 
 extremely scarce.
 
 » 2 6 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 But there were four markers ; Wagner had to com- 
 bine them into one to form the mirth-provoking and ill- 
 natured character of Beckmesser, around whom the 
 whole play revolves. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 Scene I. — The action takes place in Nuremberg, at 
 the beginning of the 1 6th century. The first scene 
 occurs in the church of Saint Katharine ; the scenery 
 shows the church viewed from one side with only the 
 last seats visible of the nave, which runs towards the 
 left. 
 
 The worshippers are just finishing the chanting of a 
 psalm. Two women, sitting in the last row, have 
 attracted the attention of a young noble, the knight 
 Walter von Stolzing, who, leaning against a pillar, can- 
 not take his eyes off the younger of them, Eva, the 
 daughter of Veit Pogner, goldsmith and citizen of 
 Nuremberg. 
 
 Walter makes a mute but eloquent appeal to the 
 maiden, who timidly responds with a discreet, but some- 
 what confused gesture. 
 
 The service ended, the church slowly empties, and 
 the knight approaches the woman he loves. The inno- 
 cent maiden, notwithstanding her guilelessness, would 
 not be sorry to manage a tete-a-tete with the handsome 
 knight ; with a charming ingenuousness she pretends to 
 have left her fichu in her seat in the church, and sends 
 her nurse to fetch it. Meanwhile Walter begs her to 
 decide his fate and pronounce the word which will 
 encourage his hopes; since his arrival in Nuremberg, 
 where he was received with such cordial hospitality by 
 Pogner, Eva's father, he has loved the maiden, and 
 aspires to be her betrothed, if perchance she is free.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 127 
 
 Meantime the nurse has returned, and, to prolong the 
 conversation, Eva again sends her in search of a brooch, 
 which has probably fallen on the way. The tete-a-tete 
 continues as the two lovers could wish, for Magdalene, 
 in her turn, has forgotten her psalter and goes away a 
 third time. When she returns and sees the knight, she 
 gratefully thanks him for having taken care of Eva in 
 her absence and invites him to come and see Master 
 Pogner again. Was he not well received on his arrival 
 in Nuremberg, that they do not see him any more? 
 But the young man deplores that fatal visit to the gold- 
 smith's house, for since he first saw Eva he has known 
 no rest. The nurse cries out at this declaration, made in 
 a loud voice in the open church, as being likely to com- 
 promise Eva ; she wants to go, but Eva detains her: she 
 does not know how to answer Walter's question if she 
 is betrothed, and desires her companion to answer for 
 her. Magdalene, disturbed for a moment by the sight of 
 her lover, the apprentice David, who comes out of the 
 sacristv, then explains to Walter that Eva is promised 
 — without exactly being so: the goldsmith, Pogner, 
 has determined to offer his daughter as a reward to the 
 victor in the competition which is about to be held bv 
 the Meistei singer of Nuremberg. No one, therefore, yet 
 knows the happy man, whom, moreover, Eva will be free 
 to refuse if he is displeasing to her. 
 
 The maiden relies particularly upon this last point of 
 her nurse's story, and whilst Walter, strongly excited, 
 strides up and down, she tells her that she positively 
 must have the knight. At first sight she felt she 
 belonged to him; besides is he not like David? — 
 " Like David ? " cries the nurse in amazement, thinking 
 of her own lover. — " Yes," replies Eva ; " King David; 
 not the one we see on the banner of the Meistersinger,
 
 128 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 but the David painted by Diirer and represented by the 
 artist with the sword by his side, the sling in his hand, 
 and his head with an aureole of golden curls." An 
 amusing passage of complicated cross-purposes. 
 
 The name David, repeated several times, attracts the 
 attention of that Apprentice, who is going and coming, 
 making preparations for the meeting which will shortly 
 take place in the sacred edifice itself. At this meeting 
 for the presentation of candidates, the Apprentice who 
 does not fail in the rules of tablature is to receive his 
 freedom and to be appointed a Master. The knight 
 therefore comes just at the right time, replies Magda- 
 lene. She confides the young noble to David's care to 
 be initiated. The latter is Hans Sachs's pupil, in sing- 
 ing as in shoemaking, and he has long been studying in 
 hopes of one day obtaining the Mastership : he, therefore, 
 will give the knight complete instructions regarding the 
 difficulties to be conquered for the morrow's meeting, 
 and also for the preparatory test, which will take place 
 immediately. The two women then go home. 
 
 Scene II. — The first thing necessary, David explains, 
 is to mount the first step and to obtain letters of freedom. 
 But the degree of Meistersinger is not to be gained so 
 easily. There are several grades to conquer first. He 
 must recognize and sing the tones and melodies without 
 hesitation in order to become a singer. And David, in a 
 long enumeration, recites to Walter all the titles, some- 
 times burlesque ones, of the modes with which he must 
 familiarize himself: the short, the long, the slow, the 
 fragrant hawthorn, the tortoise, the cinnamon stalk, the 
 calf, the frog, the faithful pelican, etc. Then he must 
 compose words adapted to one of the well-known modes; 
 and this will entitle him to the grade of poet. 
 
 Lastly comes the third and most formidable test : the
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 129 
 
 composition of a complete work, poem and music, in 
 which the judge cannot allow more than seven infrac- 
 tions of the established rules. If Walter triumphs over 
 the last difficulty, all honour to him ; he will receive the 
 victor's crown of flowers and will be proclaimed Meister- 
 singer. 
 
 The Apprentices, who during this whole scene have 
 not ceased, whilst getting the place ready, to torment and 
 interrupt David, have finally brought into the centre of 
 the stage a platform surrounded by black curtains ; then 
 thev place a chair, a desk, and a slate to which a piece 
 of chalk is suspended at the end of a string. They join 
 David in wishing the candidate good luck, jesting with 
 him, and dancing around him ; then they respectfully re- 
 tire on seeing the Meistersinger arrive one after the 
 other. 
 
 Scene III. — Beckmesser, one of the members of the 
 corporation, a ridiculous and crabbed character, accom- 
 panies Veit Pogner, and is insisting on his granting him 
 the hand of Eva, for whom he has a great desire, but 
 whose love he does not think he possesses. The gold- 
 smith promises him his good will, without, however, 
 binding himself to anything, which does not satisfy the 
 grotesque personage, who is uneasy regarding the success 
 of his suit ; he therefore regards every fresh face with 
 hostility and eyes Walter malevolently as the young 
 knight approaches Pogner, who is astonished to see him 
 at the assembly, and tells him that he wishes to undergo 
 the trial and have himself immediately received as a 
 member of the company. Pogner, on the contrary, is 
 delighted with this idea and promises the knight his cor- 
 dial support. 
 
 The assembly is now complete, Hans Sachs having 
 just arrived; one of the Meistersinger calls the roll, 
 
 9
 
 130 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 which affords occasion in the German text for a series 
 of more or less witty jokes and jests, the sense of which 
 is lost in translation. 
 
 Pogner then begins to speak, reminding them of the 
 importance of the festival which is to bring them together 
 on the morrow, Saint John's Day. There will be prizes 
 for the victors in the Song-Contest, and Pogner himself, 
 being anxious to refute the charge of avarice, which is 
 made against the citizens throughout Germany, and wish- 
 ing to prove that he places nothing above art, has de- 
 cided that what he will offer as a prize to the conqueror 
 shall be his most precious treasure, his only daughter, 
 Eva, with all that she possesses. Only one restriction 
 accompanies this offer: Eva will be free to refuse the 
 conqueror if he is not pleasing to her; but she will, 
 nevertheless, not be allowed to choose a husband outside 
 of the corporation of the Meistersinger. 
 
 This speech of Pogner's occasions much discussion, 
 accompanied by noisy acclamations from the Apprentices, 
 who are happy at any uproarious manifestations. Some 
 approve the goldsmith, others criticise his idea : amongst 
 the latter is Beckmesser, who, thinking himself sure of 
 victory, recognizes how unfavourably this last condition 
 will affect him. Hans Sachs proposes to add the popular 
 voice to the judgment of the Meistersinger, feeling' cer- 
 tain in his simple good sense that it will give good ad- 
 vice and find itself naturally in accord with the maiden's 
 feelings ; the Apprentices noisily applaud this motion, 
 but several of the Meistersinger oppose the idea, as they 
 are unwilling to let the common people join in their af- 
 fairs. The goldsmith, having explained to Sachs how 
 many complications would be caused by this new clause, 
 he abandons it with his characteristic good-nature. A 
 little skirmish then occurs between the cobbler and Beck-
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 131 
 
 messer; the latter, having undertaken to ridicule the ex- 
 cellent Hans, hears him say that they arc both too old to 
 aspire to the hand of the maiden, which greatly annoys 
 that grotesque person. 
 
 At last the excitement calms down, and Pogner pre- 
 sents the young knight, whose nobility and honourable 
 character he guarantees, to his colleagues, telling them 
 he asks to undergo the test for the Mastership. Beck- 
 messer, anxious to create difficulties for him whose 
 rivalry he foresees, tries to adjourn the examination ; but 
 the Meistersinger outvote him and prepare to hear the 
 candidate, first asking him the name of the teacher who 
 gave him the precious lessons. 
 
 Walter says he has studied poetry in the silence of the 
 long winter evenings, by reading over a hundred times 
 the ponderous tome of one of the most celebrated Minne- 
 singer of Germany ; and therefore this old master 
 taught him the art of poetry. As for music, he learnt 
 that in listening to the birds singing in the woods, when 
 early in the year Nature, freed from her frosts, awake? 
 at the balmy breath of spring. 
 
 At these words, the discussion is renewed. Some, 
 headed by Beckmesser, who has been sneering all the 
 while the knight has been speaking, declare Walter's 
 pretensions absurd; others, with larger ideas of art, such 
 as Vogelsang, Pogner, and Sachs, form a better opinion 
 of the young candidate, and induce the corporation 
 to hear him. Walter accepts the examination, and, 
 to gain the precious reward to which he aspires, he will 
 attempt to express in poetry and melodv the memories of 
 his childhood ; he will sing under the inspiration of the 
 Love in which he has placed all his hopes. Beckmesser 
 is appointed marker: he is shut up in the chair sur- 
 rounded by curtains, which the Apprentices brought in
 
 1 32 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 a while ago, to write down the aspirant's mistakes on the 
 slate; he installs himself in his tribunal, after having 
 wished his rival good luck, accompanying this wish with 
 an ironical and malicious grimace. 
 
 Walter collects his thoughts for a moment, while one 
 of the Meistersinger, Kothner, who has made one of 
 the Apprentices bring him a large placard hanging 
 against the wall, reads to him the rules of tablature 
 which he will have to observe if he wishes to be received ; 
 he then gets up into the seat reserved for the candidates, 
 and, after having evoked the gracious image of Eva to 
 give him courage, he sings the first strophe of his musi- 
 cal poem, which is a hymn to Nature, to Spring, and 
 to Love. 
 
 While he is singing the first couplet, Beckmesser is 
 heard stirring about in his box, angrily marking the mis- 
 takes on his slate. The knight, disturbed for a moment, 
 recovers himself, and continues the second strophe, but 
 the town-clerk, without giving him time to begin the 
 third, opens the curtains and announces with a rasping 
 voice that the number of errors allowed is already far 
 exceeded, that he has failed and must retire. He then 
 shows the assembly the slate so thickly scored with big 
 chalk marks that every one bursts out laughing. The 
 discussion then recommences more vehemently than 
 ever; the jealous town-clerk, now triumphant, harangues 
 his companions, mocking the young knight's unfortunate 
 efforts, and rallying to his side all the old Meistersinger, 
 who are slaves to routine, and cannot understand what 
 fresh poetry breathes in Walter's song ; on the other 
 hand, the knight's partisans, Pogncr and Sachs, defend 
 the new form which he has adopted ; Sachs claims for 
 his protege the right of, at least, being heard to the end ; 
 according to their rules he has the right of completing
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 133 
 
 his trial ; and, besides, adds the poet-cobbler, is it just 
 that he should be judged by one who is his rival in 
 love ? At these words Beckmesser's rage is beyond 
 all bounds. In vain Pogner tries to calm the general 
 uproar: the majority of the Meistersinger side against 
 Walter, who is greatly disheartened, and whose only 
 defender is the benevolent Sachs, whose artistic soul 
 sympathizes with that of the young man. 
 
 Beckmesser renews his campaign of abuse with fresh 
 bitterness ; they all take his part, and, in the midst of a 
 general tumult, Walter, again taking his place, begins his 
 third and last strophe, in which in the heat of despera- 
 tion, he caustically criticises his persecutors. 
 
 The good Sachs admires the knight's courageous atti- 
 tude ; but it only serves still further to increase the dis- 
 pleasure of the obstinate townsmen, who unanimously 
 decide that he has failed, failed without appeal. They 
 all excitedly disperse. The Apprentices, mingling with 
 the Meistersinger, add still more to the confusion and 
 disorder. They again form a wild ring around the 
 marker's box, and try to bring Sachs into their dance; he 
 is left alone and makes an expressive gesture, eloquent 
 of his discomfiture and discouragement. Then they all 
 disperse. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Scene I. — The stage represents a street scene in 
 Nuremberg, intersected in the middle by a narrow lane. 
 The corner which it forms on the right is occupied by 
 Pogner's house, a rich citizen's dwelling, which is 
 approached by several steps; above the steps is an arched 
 doorway with stone scats. In the front of the house is 
 a lime-tree surrounded by shrubs, and under the lime-tree 
 is a bench. The corner on the left is formed by the
 
 134 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 more modest dwelling of Hans Sachs ; the door of his 
 cobbler's shop is horizontally divided in two parts, it 
 opens directly into the street, and is shaded by a thick 
 elder-tree. On the side towards the lane the house has 
 two windows, the first of which belongs to the shop, and 
 the second to the room of the Apprentice David. 
 
 The act passes during a beautiful summer evening ; 
 the night is slowly falling. David and other Apprentices 
 are putting up the shutters of their masters' shops, whilst 
 singing and celebrating in advance the festival of Saint 
 John, which will take place on the morrow. The 
 scamps are teasing their comrade David by trying to imi- 
 tate the voice of Magdalene, who noiselessly issues from 
 the goldsmith's house, with a basket on her arm, and in 
 a low voice calls her lover, for whom she has some dain- 
 ties, but whom she first wants to ask for news of the 
 song-examination which occurred in the morning. Did 
 the knight come victorious out of the trial ? At David's 
 reply in the negative, she quickly snatches away the bas- 
 ket, into which he is already diving : there is no reward 
 for the bringer of bad news ; and she re-enters the house 
 showing her disappointment by her expressive gestures. 
 •The Apprentices, who have watched the scene from a 
 distance, approach their abashed comrade, congratulating 
 him on his good fortune in marrying an old maid, and dance 
 around him ; David, in a rage, is trying to thrash them 
 all, when Sachs, coming out of his shop, asks the reason 
 of all this noise and sends the pugnacious youth to his 
 room, telling him he shall go to bed without having his 
 singing-lesson, as a punishment for his riotous conduct. 
 Whilst they go in together, the Apprentices disperse, 
 and Eva appears at the corner of the street leaning on her 
 father's arm, returning from a walk. 
 
 Scene II. — Pogner, who is secretly preoccupied with
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 135 
 
 to-morrow's contest and with his daughter's fate, would 
 like to talk with his friend Sachs, and looks through the 
 crack in his shutters to sec it" the cobbler is still awake; 
 the maiden, also anxious, but without wishing to show it, 
 keeps silence. She is vaguely hoping that she may have 
 a visit this evening from him whom she loves, and of 
 whom she has heard no news since the morning; she 
 therefore lends an idle ear to the conversation of her 
 father, who is trying to interest her in the coming contest, 
 of which she is to be the heroine; she insists on leaving 
 the bench on which they are sitting and entering the 
 house. 
 
 Pogner goes in first, and the maiden, standing on the 
 threshold, rapidly exchanges a tew words in a low voice 
 with the nurse who has been awaiting her. She learns 
 from Magdalene of the knight's failure and makes up her 
 mind to go secretly, after supper, to her old friend Sachs 
 to ask him for fuller information. Magdalene has an- 
 other message for her from Beckmesser; but that is of 
 no importance: Eva takes no notice of it and enters the 
 house in her turn. 
 
 Scene III. — Sachs, after having repro\ ed his Appren- 
 tice for his turbulence, orders him to set his bench and 
 stool near the door, and then sends him to bed. As for 
 himself, he sits down, intending to get on with his work ; 
 but hardly is he alone, when he falls into a reverie in 
 spite of himself; he leaves his work and, leaning with 
 his elbows on the lower part of the door, he gives rein to 
 his thoughts, which return to the morning's trial : What 
 poetry there was in that song, although it was constructed 
 in defiance of all established rules! How new and full 
 of freshness was that hymn of Spring ! How evidently 
 it rose from the soul of an artist, and how entirely it has 
 captured the heart of the good Sachs !
 
 136 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 Scene TV. —While he thus meditates, Eva, who has 
 come out of her house, has approached the shop door, 
 looking in every direction to see if she has been noticed ; 
 she wishes her old friend good-evening, and, sitting down 
 near him on the stone bench, she tries to lead the con- 
 versation to the subject which fills her heart : the contest 
 of the morrow, the prize of which is to be herself. — 
 Who will take part in the contest ? she asks. The poet- 
 cobbler, who has the necessary rank to enter the trial ; 
 has he no idea of competing? — She questions him in a 
 round-about way, but is quickly reassured : the excellent 
 Sachs loves her as a child, he has known her from her 
 birth, but he would not take such a young girl for his 
 wife : that would be folly on his part ; besides has he not 
 been married and been the father of a family already? 
 And he rejects the idea upon which Eva insists, and 
 which is, perhaps, a little nearer to his heart than he 
 would care to acknowledge to himself. — Then is it not 
 his intention to favour Beckmesser ? — No, again replies 
 the worthy man, who sees perfectly well what she is 
 driving at; and when, after more beating about the bush, 
 she at last speaks of the morning's examination, asking 
 who were present ; whilst thinking of the love freshlv 
 awakened in this young heart which he cherishes ' un- 
 known to himself and which will never be his, he can- 
 not help feeling a moment's sadness, and despite his 
 kindheartedness, he takes a half-malicious pleasure in 
 criticising the song Walter composed, saving that the 
 young knight, with his new and strange ideas, will never 
 succeed in producing anything, and may at once give up 
 all hope of gaining the rank of Master. 
 
 At these words, Eva cannot restrain her annoyance ; 
 she rises quickly, saying that if Walter cannot find grace 
 in the eyes of the dry-as-dust pedants of Nuremberg, he
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 137 
 
 will certainly be appreciated elsewhere by hearts which 
 are warm, ardent, and progressive. Then, without 
 waiting any longer, she goes away with Magdalene, 
 who has come to call her in a low voice. 
 
 The good Sachs, who has learnt from his young 
 friend's manner what he wished to know, watches her 
 with a pensive glance as she goes away in anger, and 
 generously vows to protect her innocent love-affair with 
 all his power. He then shuts the upper wing of his 
 door, which only reveals a narrow slit of light, whilst 
 the two women, standing aside together, argue in low 
 tones. Magdalene tries to make Eva go in, as her 
 father has called her several times ; but the maiden has 
 decided to await the knight in the street, for he cannot 
 fail to come, and she is determined to talk with him. 
 The nurse then gives her Beckmesser's message : that 
 ridiculous suitor asks his beautiful lady to give a hearing 
 to the song which he has prepared for to-morrow's com- 
 petition, and which he is coming to sing with a lute 
 accompaniment under her window this very evening to 
 submit it to her approbation. Eva, wishing to get rid 
 of him, sends Magdalene to take her place on the bal- 
 cony, to the great affliction of the latter, who fears to 
 excite David's jealousy by so doing. But Eva will not 
 listen to her; she pushes her companion into the house, 
 where Pogner is still calling for her, and in spite of 
 Magdalene, who tries to drag her in with her, remains 
 on the threshold, listening to footsteps which without 
 doubt herald the longed-for approach of Walter. 
 
 Scene V. — It is, in fact, the young knight coming 
 down the lane. Eva runs to meet him, and, in a state 
 of exaltation, declares that, whatever happens, she will 
 choose him against all the world as her companion and 
 husband. Walter, still upset and indignant at the morn-
 
 138 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 ing's failure, tells his beloved how contemptuously those 
 antiquated Meistersinger received him, — him who, 
 filled with courage and fortified with his love, had sub- 
 mitted to their examination. Therefore, since he sees 
 perfectly well that he can never acquire that title, which 
 according to the goldsmith's will is the indispensable 
 condition of obtaining Eva's hand, one sole resource 
 remains for them if thev wish to belong to each other, 
 and that is to fly together, and so gain their liberty. In 
 a fever of excitement, he fancies he still hears the raillerv 
 of the Meistersinger pursuing him and proclaiming their 
 pretensions to his dear one ; fiercely he lays his hand 
 upon the hilt of his sword : but the distant noise which 
 he heard was only the horn of the night-watchman, 
 who is making his rounds and inviting the inhabitants 
 of the town to rest. The two lovers have only just 
 time to conceal themselves from sight : Eva disappears 
 into the interior of the house with Magdalene, who has 
 come back to Icok for her, and Walter hides himself 
 behind the lime-tree, while Sachs, who has overheard 
 the conversation, opens his door a little wider and lowers 
 his lamp, so as to continue his observation without 
 being perceived, determining to watch over the two im- 
 prudent young people and prevent their committing any 
 folly. 
 
 The watchman goes on his way, and Walter leaves 
 his retreat, anxiously awaiting Eva's return. She soon 
 appears, muffled in her nurse's clothes, which she has 
 taken the better to conceal herself. She is already 
 pointing out to her lover the road by which they must 
 fly, when Sachs, who is lying in wait inside his shop, 
 suddenly turns upon them the light of his lamp, shining 
 through his wide open door. 
 
 Scene VI. — The two fugitives, thus fully illumined,
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 139 
 
 do not know what to do: to follow along the street is to 
 risk meeting the watchman; to go down the lane under 
 the cobbler's eyes is impossible. Waiter then wants to 
 extinguish the lamp of the troublesome neighbour, but is 
 astonished to learn that it is no other than Sachs who so 
 well defended him that morning, and who, as Eva tells 
 him, now decries him like all the others. 
 
 In addition, a fresh difficulty now presents itself under 
 the ungraceful form of Beckmesser, who is coming to 
 give his serenade. The knight's irritation is redoubled 
 on recognizing his declared enemy ; but Eva calms 
 him by assuring him that the ridiculous person shall not 
 long remain there, and will go away as soon as his song 
 is sung. She draws her lover towards the bench, and 
 they both hide behind the bushes. 
 
 Sachs, who on Beckmesser's arrival had turned down 
 the lamp again, directs its light into the street at the 
 moment when the town-clerk is beginning to tune his 
 lute to sing, and, sitting down to his bench, he sings a 
 popular song with all his might, whilst loudly hammering 
 upon his last. The grotesque Beckmesser, in a rage, 
 nevertheless tries to put a good face on the matter, and 
 begins to talk to Sachs to induce him to be quiet and let 
 him sing in his turn ; but the malicious cobbler will not 
 lend himself to his scheme; he pretends that he thinks 
 Beckmesser has come to hasten the delivery of a pair of 
 shoes, and sets busily to work, redoubling his noise. 
 The song he selects is intended to exasperate the ugly 
 town-clerk, whose rage increases in an amusing manner, 
 and to warn Walter and Eva that a friend is acquainted 
 with their doings and will find a way to balk their hot- 
 headed plans. The maiden is greatly worried at this, 
 and has all the trouble in the world to calm the knight's 
 irritation, when, by a happ\ diversion, Eva's window
 
 i 4 o THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 softly opens, and indistinctly reveals a female form, which 
 is none other than Magdalene dressed in the clothes of 
 her mistress. This trick played on his presumptuous 
 rival amuses Walter, who now follows the scene with 
 interest. Beckmesser, thinking himself in the presence 
 of his loved one, is anxious to warble his melody to her; 
 so he pretends that he has come to sing to Sachs to get 
 his opinion ; but the crafty Hans denies any compe- 
 tence in the matter and applies himself noisily to the 
 town-clerk's shoes, which seem to absorb his whole 
 interest. Beckmesser insists and flies into a passion ; 
 Sachs, with apparent simplicity, imperturbablv continues 
 his teasing, and obstinately refuses to leave his noisv 
 work. The situation is prolonged in the most comic 
 way ; the town-clerk is on thorns : suppose Eva should 
 grow impatient and leave the window ! At last thev 
 come to some sort of an agreement : Beckmesser, con- 
 quered by the stupid tenacity of the cobbler, consents 
 with a sigh to be judged by Hans, who, nevertheless, 
 will not relinquish his dear shoes and will mark the poet's 
 faults by driving the nails into the soles with blows of 
 his hammer. The singer then places himself well in 
 view of Eva's window, which is wide open, and, after 
 having played a prelude on his lute, which, in his fury, 
 he has tuned falsely, begins his first couplet, which is 
 soon interrupted by one and then bv two, and then three 
 blows. He turns round furiously, but noiselessly, to this 
 new marker, who stops him at every moment by remarks 
 on his verses, and ends by tranquilly advising him to 
 begin his song again. In this song he celebrates the 
 day which will soon break, the competition which is 
 going to take place, and the beautiful maiden who will 
 be the prize. In proportion as his song proceeds, the 
 strokes of Sachs's hammer are redoubled, accelerated, and
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 141 
 
 increased a thousandfold. At each stroke, Beckmessej 
 makes a significant grimace, and, in an attempt to drow n 
 them, he sings louder and louder, thus giving his song, 
 which he meant to be languorous and expressive, a roar- 
 ing, jerking, and altogether ridiculous rendering. Sachs 
 then asks him, in a perfectly serious way, if he has 
 finished his song: as for him, Sachs, he has ended his 
 work, thanks to the numerous faults he has had to mark; 
 then, giving him in two words his opinion, which is any- 
 thing but flattering, of the poetical work, he bursts out 
 laughing in his face and turns his back on him. Then 
 Beckmesser, who is exasperated, but will not desist, con- 
 tinues to sing under the window of his charmer, although 
 the latter has retired with a gesture of disapprobation ; 
 he bellows at the top of his voice in such shrill tones and 
 makes such a noise that the neighbours are awakened, 
 and begin to show themselves at the windows. David 
 appears with the others, and, thinking that it is Magda- 
 lene who is being serenaded, he springs into the street 
 with a cudgel in his hand, and, rushing at the town-clerk 
 he breaks his lute and administers a drubbing which con- 
 tinues for the rest of the scene. The inhabitants of the 
 quarter then come down into the street half dressed, and, 
 trying to separate the two combatants, start quarrelling 
 among themselves. The Apprentices run from all direc- 
 tions, delighted to increase the tumult, then follow the 
 weavers, curriers, butchers, potters, etc. ; the Meister- 
 singer and the citizens, attracted by the noise, arrive in 
 their turn ; every one is lighting with his neighbour : the 
 women join in on recognizing their husbands and their 
 brothers; the brawl is at its height, the tumult is gen- 
 eral, every one is shouting excitedly, nothing but bleed- 
 ing noses and black eves are visible on every side. 
 Magdalene has come down from her window to make
 
 i 4 2 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 David let go of Beckmesser, whom he is still thrashing', 
 but Pogner, who thinks she is Eva, whose clothes she is 
 still wearing, orders her to come into the house again 
 and keep quiet, then he descends to the ground floor, 
 and appears on the threshold of his door. Since the 
 tumult began, Eva and Walter have remained concealed 
 under the lime-tree full of anxiety ; but, profiting bv the 
 general uproar, they are again thinking of flight; fol- 
 lowed by his companion, the knight, sword in hand, 
 advances to make a way for himself through the crowd 
 under cover of the night, for the cobbler's lamp no 
 longer illuminates the scene; but Sachs, who has not 
 ceased to watch the lovers, comes out to make David 
 relinquish his hold, sending him rolling into the shop 
 with a kick, while Beckmesser limps away as fast as 
 possible. Sachs then advances into the middle of the 
 street and pushes Eva towards her house, where the 
 goldsmith, believing her to be Magdalene, receives her 
 and quickly closes the door behind them ; Hans then 
 seizes Walter by the arm, draws him into the shop, and 
 shuts the door. At this moment some of the belligerents 
 have the idea of calming the others by sousing them with 
 water, crying "Fire!" The rout then begins; next is 
 heard in the distance the horn of the watchman, who is 
 slowly approaching ; the citizens, guilders, and Appren- 
 tices take fright, disperse in the twinkling of an eye, and 
 disappear into their houses, quickly shutting the doors 
 and windows, so that when the watchman arrives to 
 invite the inhabitants to rest, the quarter has resumed its 
 accustomed calm; the good man, thinking he must have 
 been dreaming when he heard the distant echoes of the 
 fight, rubs his eyes and finds only a city sleeping in the 
 luminous beauty of the moon, which has just risen.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 143 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Scene I. — We are now introduced into Sachs's shop. 
 At the back is the street door with the upper part open. 
 To the left is a window with pots of flowers, and look- 
 ing on to the lane ; upon the right a door opens into a 
 small room. 
 
 The cobbler is sitting in a large armchair near the 
 window, illumined bv the rays of the morning sun ; he 
 is absorbed in reading a large folio volume which he 
 holds on his knees, and docs not notice the arrival of his 
 Apprentice, who puts his head in cautiously from the 
 street and looks around the room, then, seeing that he is 
 not noticed, enters on tiptoe and gently sets down be- 
 hind the bench a basket which he has on his arm. He 
 examines its contents with great interest, and succes- 
 sively takes out flowers and ribbons, and then a cake and 
 a sausage, which he begins to eat, when, at the noise 
 which Sachs makes by turning over a leaf, he starts and 
 quickly hides his treasures. Then, fearing his master's 
 anger for his turbulent conduct of the past night, he 
 begins to justify himself in a flood of words which Sachs, 
 being still absorbed in his reading, does not hear. David, 
 full of his subject, continues to plead his cause with an 
 ardour that is touching and comical at the same time, 
 while occasionally casting an expressive and -anxious 
 glance on his provisions, which cause him considerable 
 uneasiness. The kind poet at last shuts his book, and 
 slowly rousing from his reverie, is greatly astonished at 
 seeing David on his knees, quite overcome by fear and 
 anxiously looking at him. Sachs, noticing the flowers 
 and ribbons, begins, to David's great delight, to talk 
 quietly, and without any display of anger, of the festival 
 which is in preparation, and makes his pupil recite for
 
 144 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 his lesson the verses on Saint John. The youth, in his 
 confusion, sings the words to the air of Beckmesser's 
 absurd serenade, then at Sachs's sign of astonishment, he 
 takes up the proper air of his song, the subject of which 
 is the baptism of a Nuremberg infant, who was taken to 
 the banks of the Jordan and called Johannes in Latin, 
 or Hans in German ; this transition leads the singer to 
 give his master the good wishes for the day, while 
 eagerlv offering him the flowers and dainties in his 
 basket ; he ends with the wish that Sachs, being trium- 
 phant at the competition and obtaining Eva's hand, may 
 thus adorn his house with a gracious face which will 
 bring new gaiety into it. -The worthy man replies 
 gently, but with some reserve, keeping to himself his 
 secret thoughts, which are sad with the renunciation of a 
 happiness within his vision, but one which, with his cour- 
 ageous good sense, he has never acknowledged even to 
 himself, and sends David away to make himself ready 
 for the festival which is about to begin. David, quite 
 touched, and happy at having escaped a reprimand, re- 
 spectfully kisses his master's hand and goes to his room, 
 while the poet-philosopher resumes the thread of his 
 thoughts, still holding the folio on his knees. He medi- 
 tates profoundly on human nature, which, alas, is so 
 prompt at ill deeds and quarrels. How small a thing 
 suffices to let loose human passions and make men 
 clash together ! What made these placid inhabitants of 
 Nuremberg so enraged last night? An unknown cause, 
 most certainly puerile, set them at one another : the ex- 
 halations of a flowering lime-tree, the malicious prompt- 
 ing of some kobold, or, perhaps, the heaviness of the 
 air on that Eve of Saint John? This thought of Saint 
 John, which suddenly occurs, reminds him that on this 
 day he has a task to accomplish. He must manoeuvre
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 145 
 
 very skilfully and use every means to forward the hap- 
 piness of the youthful pair whose love-affair he has taken 
 under his protection. 
 
 Scene II. — At this moment the door of the little 
 room opens to admit Walter, who stands still for a mo- 
 ment looking at Sachs ; the latter turns round and lets 
 the folio fall from his knees to the floor. 
 
 Walter, who has received most cordial hospitality 
 from his host, has passed under his roof a comfortable 
 and refreshing night, during which he has had a dream of 
 the most ideal beauty. Hans then suggests that he shall 
 take this dream as the basis of his competition-song ; for 
 he wants to sec him make the venture, notwithstanding 
 his failure of yesterday. He must not feel resentful 
 against these good honest people, who may have been 
 mistaken in all sincerity, and may, moreover, have been 
 somewhat troubled by the novel and unrestrained form 
 of the song which he gave them. Sachs most certainly 
 does not despair of seeing his protege succeed ; had it 
 been otherwise, would he not have been the first to 
 favour the flight and union of the two lovers ? Come, 
 let Walter get to work quickly and compose a beautiful 
 Master-song. 
 
 "But first, what is meant by a Master-song? " replies 
 the knight; "what is the use of these strict rules which 
 they insist on imposing upon everybody ? Can genius 
 accommodate itself thus to fetters which impede its 
 flight ? " 
 
 " In the spring-time of life," the good Sachs replies, 
 c when all the ardour and sap of vouth are flowing in 
 the heart and brain, genius can certainly do without 
 rules, and often succeeds in producing a beautiful and 
 strong work without their aid ; but when time and life, 
 with its train of sorrows, have frozen this ardour and 
 
 10
 
 14.6 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 dashed this enthusiasm, he who is no longer guided by 
 enthusiasm and youthful illusions will never be able to 
 create anything if he does not seek the support of science ■, 
 those who have taken the trouble to formulate and group 
 these rules have been precisely men tried by the hardships 
 of life and who have felt the need of such an aid." And 
 Sachs, after a melancholy allusion to his own state of 
 mind, ends by recommending the young knight to begin 
 his work without delay, — to relate his dream, which shall 
 serve as a basis for the subject, and his master will teach 
 him how to make it accord with the rules of the Meister- 
 singer, so that they may approve and crown it. 
 
 Walter, collecting his memories, sings the first strophe, 
 describing- a wondrous garden full of the sweetest odours 
 and displayed before his eyes in the clear light of a bril- 
 liant dawn. 
 
 " Very good indeed," says Sachs, telling him immedi- 
 ately to compose the second strophe, so that the parallel 
 may be completed. Walter continues, in a second 
 couplet, to describe the enchanted garden, then, at his 
 teacher's instructions, he adds the conclusion, in which 
 he sings of a radiant beauty who appears to his dazzled 
 eyes and leads him toward the tree of life. Sachs, 
 moved with the poetry of the first Bar, 1 invites the young 
 poet to compose a second, into which Walter again puts 
 all his heart. A third one is wanted ; but the knight 
 will easily be able to compose that at the time of the 
 contest ; he must now go and put on his festival robes, 
 
 1 " Every Meistersinger Song or Bar has a regular measure. . . . 
 A Bar most frequently consists of various strophes. ... A strophe 
 is usually composed of two Stollen which are sung to the same mel- 
 ody. A Stoll is composed of a certain number of verses ; the end 
 of which is indicated by a cross. Then comes the Abgesang (the 
 envoy) ; it also consists of a certain number of verses, which, how- 
 ever, are sung to another melody." — Wagenseil (1697).
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 147 
 
 for the solemn moment approaches. Sachs, full of con- 
 fidence about the happy issue of the trial which his pro- 
 tege will undergo, opens the door for him with an air of 
 great deference, and makes him pass out first. 
 
 Scene III. — Beckmesser then appears at the win- 
 dow, and, seeing nobody, ventures in. He is in gala 
 dress, but his movements are painful, as he still feels the 
 beating that David gave him the evening before. He 
 limps, rubs his limbs, and seems furious ; he angrily ges- 
 ticulates as he looks at Pogner's house and Eva's window, 
 then he walks to and fro, and suddenly stops, noticing 
 on the bench the paper on which Sachs has just taken 
 down Walter's composition. He inquisitively reads it, 
 and his anger breaks out, for he thinks the cobbler has 
 composed this poetical essay on his own account. Then 
 he quickly hides the paper in his pocket, as he hears the 
 door opening; it is Hans coming in, also in full dress, 
 and who, appearing pleasantly surprised with his visit, 
 asks him, in a tone of malicious interest, how he likes 
 the shoes which were finished and delivered the ni<rht 
 
 o 
 
 before. Alas ! the soles, which served as a target for 
 the blows of the improvised marker, are very thin, and 
 scarcely protect their owner from the pebbles in the road ; 
 but it is not that which troubles him. The town-clerk 
 tells Sachs that he now sees clearly through his game, and 
 some day he will pay back his treacherous pleasantry of 
 last night, a pleasantry intended to ruin him in the beau- 
 tiful Eva's eyes, besides furthering the cobbler's own 
 ambitious plans with her, of whose person and wealth he 
 is equally covetous. Sachs in vain protests his innocence 
 and the absence of any intentions with regard to the 
 maiden ; the town-clerk refuses to believe it, and, think- 
 ing to confound him, draws from his pocket the paper 
 on which the sketch of Walter's composition is written
 
 148 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 and shows it to him. The cobbler jeers at the mean 
 fellow for the indelicate conduct he has just been guilty 
 of in stealing this poetic essay ; and, to prove to him 
 what little store he sets on this scrap of paper, he gives 
 it to him. Beckmesser is surprised and delighted at pos- 
 sessing a poem by Sachs to make use of in the song- 
 contest. What a god-send ! He immediately alters his 
 behaviour towards the man he has just been insulting so 
 violently, and, after having assured himself that the poem 
 is really given to him for his own property and that 
 Sachs will never claim its authorship, he becomes good- 
 humoured, fawning, and flattering, and goes away, still 
 limping, but triumphant, persuaded that his own musical 
 talent united with Sachs's composition, will easily gain 
 for him the prize he desires and which no rival will be 
 able to dispute with him. Sachs looks after him with a 
 smiling glance, thinking that the indiscreet action of this 
 low and vile nature will be a wonderful help to his plans. 
 Scene IV. — Scarcely has Beckmesser departed when 
 the pretty little Eva, looking exquisite in her white 
 betrothal dress, appears at the shop-door; she has come 
 under the pretext of showing her old friend the shoes he 
 made which she pretends do not fit, and hurt her. The 
 good Sachs understands her ruse perfectly well; but pre- 
 tends not to notice it, nor her stifled cry of joy as Walter 
 appears on the threshold in brilliant costume. Walter is 
 filled with ecstasy before the blonde beauty who meets 
 his vision. Sachs turns his back, seeming to be absorbed 
 in examining the little shoe ; to remedy it, he takes it off 
 and goes to the bench as if he has not noticed anything, 
 philosophizing as he works. He says what pleasure it 
 would be, if some one would sing some verses while he 
 works; he heard some pretty ones just now, and would 
 like? to know the rest ! Walter, who understands his
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 149 
 
 allusion, begins to sing the third bar of his Prize-song, 
 which, like the others, treats of his love and devotion. 
 Sachs, who has been at work the whole time, now brings 
 her shoes to Eva, who has been standing motionless in 
 ecstasy. She then understands what has happened ; 
 moved by this poetic music, by the delicate kindness of 
 her noble friend, and by his devotion to their cause, and 
 overcome with emotion, she falls sobbing into Sachs's 
 arms, and presses him to her heart, while Walter, also 
 approaches and clasps the hand of the worthy man who 
 has done so much for him. Hans, to conceal the emo- 
 tion, which is also affecting him, makes jesting remarks 
 about his difficult business as a cobbler, and as a confidant 
 of maidens who are seeking husbands ; then, to leave the 
 two lovers alone, he pretends to be going to look for 
 David; but Eva detains him. She wants to tell him of 
 all the gratitude with which her heart is overflowing and 
 all the affection she feels for him, — an affection which 
 would have led her to choose him for her husband, if 
 another still stronger love had not come into her heart. 
 The kind Sachs waves aside this thought: if he had har- 
 boured it for an instant, the sad story of Tristan and 
 Isolde and King Mark would have served him as an 
 example and kept him from indulging such a rash dream. 
 He will not dwell on these dangerous thoughts, and 
 quickly calls Magdalene, who in festal array is hovering 
 about the house, and then David, also gaily dressed, and 
 proposes to have a baptism of the new mode, which owes 
 its birth to the poetic imagination of the young knight. 
 He declares himself godfather, Eva godmother, and 
 David witness; but, as an Apprentice cannot be called 
 to such a dignified office, he at once confers on him the 
 grade n{' Companion, and to the great joy of the young 
 man, he gives him the accolade in the form of a vigorous
 
 1 5 o THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 box on the ear. Then he offers to his godson all his best 
 wishes for success, which he would have liked to weave 
 into a joyous song, if his poor heart, which is somewhat 
 bruised by all the struggles it has lately passed through, 
 had left him the power to do so. 
 
 Eva and Walter unite their voices and their wishes for 
 a success which would overwhelm them with happiness. 
 David and Magdalene, happy at seeing their own love- 
 affair in such a flourishing condition, thanks to the rank 
 to which the new Companion has just been raised, join in 
 the general rejoicing. 
 
 Whilst Eva returns to her father to accompany him to 
 the meadow where the contest is to be held, and David 
 puts up the shutters of Sachs's shop, the orchestra breaks 
 into a joyous air, which is resolved into a march rhythm, 
 and the curtain rapidly falls. 
 
 Scene V. — When it rises again, the stage represents 
 the meadow through which the Pegnitz winds ; and in 
 the distance the town of Nuremberg is visible ; the 
 landscape is enlivened by booths where refreshments are 
 sold and by continual going and coming of boats, which 
 land on the river-bank the citizens and their families in 
 holiday attire. On the right, a platform, already adorned 
 on three sides with the corporation banners, is prepared 
 and provided with seats. The Apprentices of the Meis- 
 tersinger in their holiday clothes, perform the duties of 
 ushers to the new arrivals; among the corporations 
 which they conduct to their places are : the Shoemakers 
 who sing a couplet in honour of Saint Crispin, who stole 
 leather to make shoes for the poor ; then, preceded by 
 fifers and the makers of toy musical instruments, come 
 the Tailors, who proclaim in a joyous song the bravery 
 and stratagem of one of their order, who managed to 
 save the city from the attack of the enemy by dressing
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 151 
 
 himself m the skin of a goat. The Bakers follow the 
 Tailors, vaunting the utility of their calling, withoul 
 which people would die of hunger ; but they arc inter- 
 rupted by the arrival of a boat, decorated with flags and 
 tilled with dainty little peasants ; the Companions and 
 Apprentices run to meet them and help them land ; the 
 latter are the more successful with the new-comers, and, 
 to deprive the Companions of their company, they take 
 them away and begin to waltz with them. David, who 
 is one of the joyous band, puts his arm around a pretty 
 girl and begins to dance with great spirit, but is terrified 
 for a moment by his comrades' menacing talk of Magda- 
 lene's arrival. 
 
 Finally, the Companions, who have been watching at 
 the landing-place, signal the approach of the Meister- 
 singer. Every one precipitately deserts his partner; 
 David, on taking leave of his, gives her an enthusiastic 
 kiss, and they all range themselves on the bank to let the 
 Meistersinger pass between their ranks; the latter march 
 in procession to the platform, having at their head Koth- 
 ner, bearing the banner, and Pogner, holding Eva by the 
 hand. The maiden is followed by her friends, also 
 richly dressed, and by Magdalene. The people joyfully 
 salute the learned corporation, and wave their hats as it 
 passes. Eva and her father occupy the seats of honour 
 on the platform ; Kothner sets up the banner of the 
 Meistersinger; and the Apprentices call for silence. 
 
 Sachs then advances to address the throng; but the 
 people, at the sight of their beloved poet, who knows so 
 well how to sing of their sufferings and their hopes, 
 break out afresh in enthusiastic exclamations, and, with 
 a touching spontaneousness, sing a beautiful song of 
 Hans's composition, which is fast in the memory as in 
 the heart of every one of them. Sachs, who during the
 
 i 5 2 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 singing has been lost in deep reverie, is touched, and, 
 facing his fellow-citizens, thanks them for their welcome. 
 Then, addressing the Meistersinger, he reminds them 
 how elevated is the object of the competition which is 
 about to open and how precious is the prize reserved for 
 the victor. He asks that every poet may have the right 
 to present himself freely and unconditionally, provided he 
 can prove a stainless past, which will be a sure guarantee 
 of happiness for the adorable being who will constitute so 
 high a recompense. Pogner warmly thanks his friend 
 who has been good enough to be the exact interpreter of 
 his sentiments ; then Sachs designates Beckmesser as the 
 first to make the trial ; for some time the latter has been 
 secretly trying to learn by heart the poetry he stole at the 
 cobbler's, and, not succeeding, is wiping his brow and 
 giving every sign of the most comic despair. 
 
 He leaves the platform of the Meistersinger and 
 climbs as well as he can upon the grassy hillock, which 
 is to serve as a rostrum for the competitors, maliciously 
 helped by the Apprentices, who make fun of him, trip- 
 ping and upsetting him, laughing in their sleeves. The 
 people, on the appearance of this ungraceful personage, 
 express their astonishment and jest half audibly while the 
 candidate, after having made a very consequential bow to 
 Eva, begins the theme of his serenade, adapting to it the 
 words of the stolen manuscript ; but his memory fails 
 him, he becomes confused, loses the train of his ideas, 
 and begins to deliver a flood of incoherent words, which 
 make a most ridiculous and extraordinary hotch-potch. 
 
 The crowd in astonishment begins to whisper; but 
 he does not lose either his assurance or his presumption, 
 and persists more than ever, confounding, interchanging, 
 and perverting all the words of the poetry, thus forming 
 extravagant phrases ; the whispering of the people in-
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 153 
 
 creases, and at last ends in a wild outburst of laughter. 
 At this mocker\- the town-clerk turns furiously towards 
 Sachs and denounces him before everybody as a rascal 
 ami a traitor who is the author of this grotesque work. 
 Hans calmly picks up the leaves which Beckmesser has 
 torn up and thrown on the ground, and, declaring that 
 he has nothing whatever to do with this poetrv, indicates 
 Walter as its real author; at the same time he calls 
 upon the young knight to prove his statement by sing- 
 ing to the words of this poem the melody which was 
 composed to accompany it. He passes the manuscript 
 to the Meistersinger, and Walter, walking with a de- 
 liberate step to the hillock, commences his song, which 
 consists of three strophes. 
 
 The first of these strophes describes the wondrous 
 garden, brilliant in the morning light, in which appeared 
 to him the woman he loves, his Eva, who embodies for 
 him all the delights of Paradise. The second sin<rs the 
 pure waters and the sacred fount towards which his 
 Muse, sent from Parnassus, has guided him ; finally, the 
 third exalts at the same time both love and poetrv, since 
 his inspirer, the Muse with the divine face, appeared to 
 him under the form of his beloved, and the sweet image 
 of Eva is inseparably connected in his soul with the first 
 manifestation of genius, which was entirely due to her 
 inspiration. 
 
 The Meistersinger, deeply touched, listen with delight ; 
 the people begin freely to manifest their admiration for 
 the young poet, and, without awaiting the decision of 
 the tribunal, enthusiastically proclaim his victory. The 
 Meistersinger then sanction the judgment of the crowd 
 and award the prize to Walter amid general joy. Eva, 
 who from the verv beginning has listened with ecstasy 
 to her lover's song, advances, radiant, to the edge of the
 
 i 5 4 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 platform and places on the brow of the victoi, who 
 kneels before her, a crown of mvrtle and laurel ; then 
 she leads him to her father, before whom they both bow 
 themselves and who raises his hands to bless them. 
 
 The crowd applauds Hans, who has so judiciously 
 comprehended and defended the poet, despised yester- 
 day and now admired ; but the good Sachs's task is 
 not yet quite finished. The young victor, who is not 
 at all anxious for the Mastership which Pogner wishes to 
 confer on him, scorns to be enrolled in the body of the 
 Meistersinger, and refuses the chain ornamented with the 
 image of King David, which forms the insignia of the 
 order. Hans explains to him how ungrateful he would 
 be to behave thus towards those men who have just 
 awarded him the prize which is so precious to his happi- 
 ness ; he also reminds him of their great merit in pre- 
 serving intact the noble traditions of German art, and 
 ends by uttering a warm panegyric on the national 
 genius and art, which he thinks are menaced by the 
 vicissitudes through which the Empire is passing, and 
 which he recommends to the patriotism and fidelity of all. 
 
 At these words, the acclamations of the people break 
 out again, more enthusiastically' than ever; Eva takes 
 the crown from Walter's head and places it on Sachs's ; 
 the two lovers vie with each other in doing -him 
 honour, whilst Pogner bends the knee in homage before 
 him. There is a general clapping of hands, hats are 
 waved, and the curtain falls upon a veritable apotheosis 
 of the popular poet, whom the Meistersinger with 
 universal consent seem to point out to every one as 
 their chief. 
 
 It is easv to see in the subject of the Meistersinger a 
 sort of gay and humorous pendant to the poem of 
 Tannh'duser, and this, moreover, was in Wagner's mind.
 
 THE TETRALOGY OF THE RING OF THE NIBELUNG 
 
 DIE WiLKTJKE 
 
 G0TTERDAMMERO7IG 
 
 „T be I JJ! c S Ilnde ' w P f -'- ) Nymphs or N 
 
 Daughters. ( f'losshilde ttomr.) I cf tlie Khinu- 
 Alberichlbary!.). Hideous gnome. Kingofthe 
 
 l-;v C , ,:, \,i;,--luw . ! race of dwarfs and skilful si 
 
 er] (bass). King of the 
 
 9 Freia (sopr. ). Goddess of 
 
 P,„, y „ 
 
 Lo., 
 
 B Faaolt fad hassV One of 
 
 h /o°'.C 
 
 .rd„„, 
 
 Pd Fafner [the Dragon] (bas 
 M StigfrUd, is transformed i 
 
 *»*&£ 
 
 :„ Gi " 
 
 « Froh (tenor). God of Joy. 
 
 Bro.tar 
 
 •""■ 
 
 D wStt. Godo(1 
 
 tad.,. 
 
 B "" h " 
 
 
 3i", d .w 
 
 oS' a 
 
 ^I^A^mJ 
 
 S3;„ 
 
 "■V 
 
 Erda (contr.). Goddess of 
 
 Wisdom 
 
 nd of 
 
 Siegmund (tenon. Son of \V...taii nin«!tr ilic n.i 
 
 [ Hundingib^i -it I riret husband lo Sieglinde, who 
 -U Brunnhildeisi'iT.'. T'.i.k-i-.r'Un.* \v.-ri:yi-ic-, .Lin 
 
 Walkyries. j K^SelwlISS: 
 
 i (Wiilsel. husband 
 
 j Hagen (basil. Son of ih 
 ] Gutrune (sopr.), Daueh 
 
 
 gold), and half-broih«
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 155 
 
 THE TETRALOGY OF THE RING OF THE 
 NIBELUNG 
 
 The Tetralogy, 1 or more properly, The Trilogy of 
 {he Ring of the Nibelung {Der Ring des Nibelungeii}, a 
 testival-play with a prologue : Rhine-gold {Das RheingoLl ), 
 The IP'alkyrie (Die IValkure), and The Dusk of the Gods 
 [Die Gotterd'dmmerung), has been drawn from the Scan- 
 dinavian Eddas and the old epic of the Nibelungenlied, 
 but considerably remodelled, modified, and amplified by 
 the marvellous art of Wagner's mighty genius. 
 
 The four dramas, which form the complete Ring, 
 develop many changes of tortune, brought about by the 
 curse which the Nibelung Alberich has laid upon the 
 power-endowing Ring, forged by him from the Rhine- 
 gold which he stole from the Rhine-maidens (Undines), 
 and which, in turn, Wotan has wrested from him. 
 Through many vicissitudes the cursed Ring brings de- 
 struction on all who possess it ; the series of catastrophes 
 which it occasions result in the final ruin of the race of 
 gods, and only comes to an end when the last victim, 
 Briinnhilde, who returns to the purifying waters of the 
 Rhine its stolen treasure, at last delivers the world from 
 the terrible anathema. 
 
 The characters in the following table belong to 
 Scandinavian mythology, but they are often modified, 
 sometimes, indeed, changed bv the caprice of the 
 author. 
 
 We must accept them here, not according to tradi- 
 tion, but according to the conception of Wagner's poem, 
 and with the character that he attributes to each. 
 
 1 The proper title is Trilogy ivitA Prologue, but custom has 
 established the use of the word Tetralogy.
 
 156 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 The fact is, they belong neither to Northern myth- 
 ology, nor to that of the Rhine; but to Wagnerian 
 mythology, exactly as the religion of the Grail, which 
 we have met with in Lohengrin and we shall again find 
 in Parsifal, does not belong to the Christian religion but 
 to a special cult which Wagner himself originated 
 with the aid of various legends which he altered and 
 versified. 
 
 DAS RHEINGOLD 
 
 Scene I. — The action of the first scene of this pro- 
 logue takes place in the depths of the Rhine, among 
 green and limpid waters, rocks, and caverns. 
 
 The three Undines, or Nixies, Daughters of the 
 Rhine, frolic in the waters whilst guarding the precious 
 treasure of pure gold, which their father has confided to 
 their care. 
 
 Alberich, the most crafty, avaricious, and hideous of 
 the Nibelungs, a species of gnomes, or repulsive dwarfs, 
 inhabiting the black realm of Nibelheim, in the bowels 
 of the earth, has glided into the watery dwelling, and, 
 full of voluptuous desire, wants to seduce the nymphs. 
 In turn they entice him with deceitful promises, and 
 then mock at him; but by their babbling they reveal the 
 mystery of the treasure which they guard : the Rhine- 
 gold, forged into a Ring by the bold being who succeeds 
 in becoming its possessor, will confer upon him an un- 
 limited power over the whole universe, for he will be 
 
 
 even mightier than the gods themselves, but only on the 
 hard and fast condition of renouncing love forever. 
 
 The gnome, furious at the mocking refusals of the 
 Undines, is inspired with fresh covetousness by their 
 imprudent words, — the craving for gold and dominion; 
 he scales the rock on which glitters the treasure, and,
 
 OF RirilARI) WAGNER 157 
 
 despite the lamentations of the three Nixies, seizes it, 
 after having made ^formal renunciation of lovcj he will 
 be the one to forge the enchanted Ring and hold supreme 
 power. He departs with a hurst of sinister and trium- 
 phant laughter. 
 
 The river, no longer illuminated by its glittering 
 treasure, is shrouded in thick gloom, into which the 
 Undines disappear in pursuit of the rapacious elf. 1 
 Dark waves flowing in from all sides spread over the 
 whole scene, and then gradually become calm and clear ; 
 they are succeeded by a heavy fog, which clears away, 
 and, illuminated by the breaking day, a rocky country 
 appears, intersected in the background by a vale through 
 which flows the invisible Rhine. Far away, on the 
 summit of a high mountain, stands a castle, with num- 
 berless pinnacles glittering in the rays of the rising sun. 
 
 Scene II. — Wotan and his wife, Fricka, reposing on 
 a hillock, awake and contemplate the structure, which 
 the giants, Fasolt and Fafner, have just completed 
 according to the god's orders. The reward promised for 
 this work by the Master of the Universe, at the instiga- 
 tion of the mischievous god, Loge, is to be Freia, god- 
 dess of youth, love, and beauty, sister of Fricka and of 
 the gods, Froh and Donner; but Fricka is alarmed at 
 the imminent approach of the day of reckoning, for now 
 the giants will come to claim their due ; she reproaches 
 Wotan for the inconsiderate bargain that he has made, 
 and for building the palace, which she, nevertheless, had 
 desired, hoping therein to keep her inconstant spouse 
 more often at her side. 
 
 Wotan promises her that he will not abandon Freia, 
 
 1 The elves, it alfs, are of two kinds • sometimes superior and 
 beautiful, — light elves; sometimes inferior — the dark elves — ■ 
 "blacker than pitch." Alberich was a dark elf.
 
 i 5 8 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 
 who enters in tears, pursued by Fafner and Fasolt. She 
 calls her brothers, the gods, to her aid ; a dispute 
 ensues between them and the giants, and threatens to 
 become serious when Loge appears, whom Wotan has 
 sent all over the world in search of some compensation 
 to offer to the builders in exchange for the radiant god- 
 dess. But Loge has found nothing which any one would 
 be likely to prefer to woman and youth. One single 
 creature, the dwarf Alberich, ha^j^noujicedthese_ precious 
 possessions for the gold which bestow s power, and he 
 has cursed love. Loge tells of the robbery of this treas- 
 ure by the gnome and the lamentations of the daughters 
 of the river, who implore the assistance of the chief of 
 the gods. The avarice of the giants is excited at this 
 account ; they hold a long consultation, and propose to 
 exchange Frei'a for the Rhine-gold. They make Wotan 
 promise to get it for them, and they bear away the god- 
 dess as a hostage, reserving the right to keep her if the 
 treasure is not promptly forthcoming. Hardly have they 
 taken Frei'a away when the gods begin to fall into de- 
 crepitude, for she alone knows how to cultivate the 
 golden apples, 1 which supplied them with eternal youth. 
 Wotan then resolves to descend into the gloomy king- 
 dom of the elves and to gain the Ring, not to restore it 
 to the Nixies, but to use it for the ransom of the goddess. 
 Accompanied by Loge, he penetrates the rocks into the 
 bowels of the earth to search for Nibelheim . 
 
 Scene III. — A thick vapour rises from the crevice 
 through which they pass (brimstone fault), and obscures 
 the scene with opaque clouds which finally envelop it in 
 
 1 Only Loge preserves his vitality, for, as he is but a secondary 
 god, he does not partake of the regenerating food. It is his infe- 
 riority, as we shall see in the course of the drama, that leads him to 
 separate his cause from that of the other gods.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 159 
 
 total darkness. As the vapours clear away, a rocky 
 subterranean cavern is seen ; to the right, a passage 
 ascends to the surface of the earth ; to the left, in the 
 cavern is a forge with flickering flames and wreaths of 
 rosy smoke. 
 
 This is the realm of the dark elves, where Albcrich, 
 thanks to the magic Ring which he has forged from the 
 Rhine-gold, rules over the other Nibelungs, and makes 
 them dig in the depths of the earth to extract its hidden 
 wealth. He has forced one of them, Mime, a skilful 
 smith, to forge for him the links of an enchanted helmet, 
 the " Tarnhelm," which will render him invisible. 
 Mime maliciously wants to keep his work for himself; 
 but Alberich, by means of the talisman, makes himself 
 invisible to his slave and beats him unmercifully. 
 Wotan and Loge, who descend from the opening of the 
 cave, hear the cries of the sufferer. They make him 
 describe his troubles and the work which he is forced to 
 do, and promise him assistance. At this moment a long 
 line of Nibelungs is seen defiling past the cavern, bent 
 double under the weight of ingots and treasure mined by \ UK ar «i/ 
 Albcrich's orders ; the latter abuses his brothers and 
 drives them before him with a whip; but when he per- 
 ceives the two intruders, he turns his fury against them, 
 warning them, as he recognizes them, of the revengeful 
 plans which he has formed against their race, now that 
 he has sovereign power. The outraged Wotan raises 
 his lance against the audacious elf; but the more shrewd 
 and politic Loge arrests the action of the angry god, and, 
 addressing the dwarf, congratulates him upon his omni- 
 potence, which, however, he calls into question. Piqued, 
 and anxious to exhibit his powers, Alberich, by the aid 
 of his magic casque, transforms himself first into a 
 frightful dragon and then into a loathsome toad ; Wotan
 
 i6o THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 and Loge can then easily capture him by setting their 
 foot on him. They have him at their mercy ; thev 
 seize him by the throat and carry their prisoner, foaming 
 with rage, to the surface of the earth. 
 
 Scene IV. — Vapours fill the cavern as before; and, 
 when they are dissipated, the second scene is reproduced, 
 but the background is veiled in mists. Wotan and Loge, 
 issuing from the chasm, drag with them the dwarf, mad 
 with anger. It is now their turn to mock him. They 
 first force him to deliver up the treasure which he has 
 amassed, and which, at his magic words, the Nibelungs 
 bring from the depths of the earth ; next, despite his 
 protestations, they require the enchanted helmet forged 
 by Mime ; and finally, notwithstanding his senseless 
 resistance and the insults which he hurls at them in his 
 exasperation, they make him relinquish the Ring, which 
 he wanted to keep as his last resource. Alberich, whose 
 anger is now beyond all bounds, sees himself deprived of 
 
 /the talisman by Wotan ; but with a fierce and sinister 
 imprecation, he immediately calls down a terrible curse 
 . on him who is robbing him of his treasure : " Henceforth 
 ^ y may its charm bring death to whosoever wears it ; . . . 
 »™ may he who possesses it be torn by anguish, and he who 
 does not possess it be consumed with envy ; . . . may 
 ^ no one profit by it, but may it light the thief to his 
 
 throat ; . . . may the villain become a slave to fear; 
 . . . may the master of the Ring become its servant; 
 . . . and may this endure until the Nibelung recovers 
 possession of the treasure which is now wrested from 
 him!" 
 
 Having uttered these terrible words, he disappears in 
 the cleft of the rock. Wotan, who attaches no impor- 
 tance to the malediction, quietly slips the Ring upon his 
 finger, and thoughtfully contemplates it. 
 
 \jN?
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 161 
 
 The giants now come in, on the right, for the treasure 
 which they are to receive in exchange for Freia. At the 
 approach of the goddess the other divinities feel their 
 youth and vigour returning, and joyfully welcome her; 
 but Fasolt damps their enthusiasm by claiming the prom- 
 ised ransom. He takes his spear and Fafner's, sets 
 them up, and demands that between them treasure shall 
 be heaped up, like a curtain, till he can no longer see 
 the enchantress whom he loves and whose loss he so 
 much regrets. He and his companion pile up the treas- 
 ure, including the magic helm, but through an aperture 
 Frei'a's sweet bright eyes are still visible. However, all 
 the precious treasure is now gathered together, and there 
 now only remains the Ring by which the aperture may 
 be closed ; this the giants vehemently demand. Wotan 
 refuses ; a dispute arises, and they are about to carry off 
 the goddess forever, when the air darkens and the divin- 
 ity Erda, the ancient spirit of the earth, the mother of the 
 three Norns who spin the cord of Destiny, — Erda, who 
 knows all things and dreams of the future, — appears in 
 the depths of a grotto among the rocks faintly illumined 
 with a pale light. She already foresees the gloomy end 
 of the gods, and begs Wotan to give up the marvellous 
 but cursed Ring. Wotan, astonished at her words, ques- 
 tions her: he wishes to know more, and darts towards 
 the mysterious cave to force her to explain ; but the 
 prophetess has already vanished ; and the god then falls 
 into profound meditation, and at last makes a decisive 
 resolution and throws the Ring upon the pile. The 
 giants immediately begin to wrangle over it, thus being 
 the first to experience the effects of the curse which the 
 Nibelung has laid upon it : they come to blows, and 
 Fafner, with a brutal stroke, stretches Fasolt dead at his 
 feet. Fafner thus remains the sole possessor of the
 
 i6i THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 cursed Ring and the treasures ; he calmly collects them 
 in a large sack which he has brought with him, and dis- 
 appears, dragging it after him, without casting even a 
 glance at his brother's corpse. The gods are mute with 
 horror; the sky darkens, and a gloomy cloud gathers. 
 
 Donner, the god of storm, in order to restore the 
 serenity of the sky, calls all the clouds to him and disap- 
 pears in a shower; the thunder growls, the lightning 
 flashes, then the vapours break away and reveal a won- 
 derful rainbow, made in a marvellously short time by 
 Froh out of the tempest, to serve as a bridge by which to 
 gain the inaccessible castle. Wotan, after having picked 
 up a sword forgotten by Fafner, and which formed a part 
 of his treasure, invites the gods to enter with him into 
 Walhalla, for which he has paid an accursed price ; but 
 he foresees the struggle that he will have to maintain 
 against the powers of darkness. The wily Loge, who is 
 also filled with the same presentiments as Wotan, thinks 
 about separating his cause from that of the other gods 
 and raisins his own fortune on the ruin of theirs. 
 
 From the depths of the valley the Rhine-Daughters 
 are heard wailing for their lost treasure; the gods 
 answer them with pitiless laughter, and proceed along 
 the luminous path which lies before them. 
 
 The curtain closes slowly. 
 
 DIE WALKURE 
 Act I. 
 
 Scene I. — The action passes in a large rustic cabin 
 built around an enormous ash, whose roots extend over 
 the ground and whose mighty branches pierce the roof. 
 In the trunk of the tree is visible the hilt of a sword, the
 
 left are steps leading to a room. 
 
 The storm is howling outside, thecab[njs_4esert( d. 
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 163 
 
 entire blade of which is buried, and its handle is indis- 
 tinct in the shadow. In the foreground, on the right, is 
 a hearth, before which is a heap of skins forming a kind 
 of couch. At the foot of the tree, which occupies the 
 whole centre of the stage, are a rustic table and stools. 
 Behind the hearth, steps lead to a store-room. On the 
 
 ne siorm is iiowimg ouimuc, me ca uui_ i^_^c5ciicu. ^s 
 
 The door at the back is roughly opened and admits . 
 an unarmed warrior, with his clothes in disorder, and 
 looking quite exhausted ; everything about him pro- 
 claims the fugitive. After examining the deserted room, 
 he sinks on the furs before the hearth, and, giving way 
 to weariness, is soon asleep. 
 
 The mistress of the rustic dwelling, Sieglinde, comes 
 in, and, seeing in astonishment the stranger, she awakes 
 him and inquires into his condition with solicitude; she 
 gives him drink, and learns that, tracked by his enemies 
 and betrayed by his weapons, which broke in his hand, 
 he had to seek safety in flight. He accepts the mead 
 which Sieglinde pours out for him, and which, accord- 
 ing to custom, he asks her to taste first, but he wants to 
 leave her hospitable shelter without delay, because he 
 brings misfortune wherever he stays. Alas ! she an- 
 swers, sadness has long been a dweller in this house ; 
 he will not bring it ; and she begs him to await the 
 return of her husband, Hunding, who will soon come 
 back from the chase. 
 
 Sckne II. — They earnestly gaze upon each other with 
 a constantly growing interest, when suddenly the master 
 of the hut is heard outside ; he appears upon the thresh- 
 old, surprised at the presence of the stranger, and looks 
 at Sieglinde with a questioning glance. Having received 
 her explanations, he asks his guest to tell him his story,
 
 j64 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 and makes him sit down at the table with them. One 
 thing strikes him as the stranger talks, and that is the 
 strange resemblance that there is between his wife and 
 the new-comer. 
 
 The latter then tells of his life, which seems to be 
 devoted to misfortune. His infancy had been spent 
 happily with his father, who was named Walse (the 
 Wolf), his mother, and a twin sister. But one day, on 
 his return with his father from the chase, he found 
 their dwelling reduced to ashes and his mother slain ; as 
 for his young sister, no trace had ever been found of her. 
 The authors of this crime were the Neidungs, sons of 
 Hatred and Envy. From that moment, his father and he 
 had wandered in the forest until the day when the old 
 man, tracked in his turn by enemies, had disappeared. 
 
 As for himself, ceaselessly hunted by destiny, which 
 has gained for him the name of Wehwalt (the Cause of 
 Misfortune), repulsed by every one, and weaponless, he 
 has just experienced a final defeat in an attempt to 
 liberate a defenceless maiden whose relations were going 
 to give her up to a hated lover; the woman he protected 
 was killed before his eyes, whilst he, overwhelmed by 
 numbers, was forced to give up the fight. 
 
 From the first words of this story, to which Sieglinde 
 has been listening with deep emotion, Hunding re- 
 cognizes in the fugitive an enemy of his race whom he 
 has just been called upon to fight by his own people. 
 He, nevertheless, grants him hospitality for that night, 
 but at break of day he will provoke him to the combat 
 without mercy. He retires with threats and orders his 
 wife to follow him, after having prepared his evening 
 draught. Sieglinde, absorbed in her thoughts, goes to a 
 cupboard for spices which she mingles in her lord's 
 drink, then, as she departs, she casts a long and tender
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER .165 
 
 00k at the stranger and seems to point out to him the 
 trunk of the ash in which the sword is imbedded. 
 Hunding, surprising this glance, orders her to go to her 
 room, where he is heard shutting himself in with her. 
 
 Scene III. — The scene is now illumined by the dying 
 fire on the hearth, which, as it expires, casts its light on 
 the hilt of the sword and makes it gleam in the shadows. 
 The warrior, without noticing it, anxiously asks himself 
 if he will find the sword which his father promised him 
 of old for his defence in his supreme need : then his 
 thoughts take another course ; he thinks with delight of 
 Sieglinde's beauty and of the deep feeling which she has 
 awakened in his heart. — Is the ray which lights up the 
 tree the radiance left there by the bright glances of his 
 beloved ? But the fire is expiring; it is almost total 
 darkness, and Sieglinde, clad in white, stealthily leaves 
 her room and advances towards her guest. 
 
 She has given her husband an opiate draught in order to 
 gain an opportunity to converse with him whose sight has 
 captured her heart. She tells him that on the day of her 
 sad nuptials with Hunding, to whom she had been sold 
 by brigands, an old man, draped in a large mantle and 
 wearing a wide hat concealing one of his eyes, had en- 
 tered the hut, terrifying every one but her, who felt in this 
 old man a protector and recognized in him the features 
 of a beloved father. Driving a sword up to the hilt 
 into the trunk of the ash, he promised that that steel 
 should belong to the hero who succeeded in drawing it 
 from its living sheath. So far no one has succeeded, 
 despite numerous attempts, but Sieglinde feels that the 
 conqueror will be the friend whom fate has sent her, — he 
 who will have power to heal the wounds in her heart, 
 and to whom, in a passionate outburst, she promises the 
 gift of her own person. The son of Walsc ardently
 
 166 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 embraces her ; they gaze upon each other with intoxica- 
 tion, when the door of the hut opens, moved by an in- 
 visible hand, and reveals the forest bathed in the soft 
 atmosphere of a radiant night and flooded with the white 
 moonlight which casts its luminous beams on the two 
 lovers, who are thus able to gaze upon each other in 
 delight. " Who went out ? " murmurs Sieglinde in fear. 
 ■ — No one, but some one came in ; it is sweet Spring, 
 Spring who comes to sing its epithalamium to them and 
 to celebrate the Love which blossoms deep in their 
 hearts. 
 
 Looking more closely at her beloved, Sieglinde thinks 
 she has seen him at some former time ; their memories 
 are awakened together. That piercing glance, which 
 they both possess, is the distinctive mark of the heroic 
 race of the Walsungs ; they are children of the same father, 
 and Siegmund must be the name of the hero for whom 
 Walse destined the mighty sword. For him also is 
 reserved the task of delivering Sieglinde from the hateful 
 yoke that keeps her in bondage. Siegmund, in an ecs- 
 tasy of enthusiasm, springs toward the ash, and, seizing 
 the sword by the hilt, tears it out with irresistible force, 
 calling it Nothung, the weapon promised for his distress. 
 Sieglinde, in a delirium of joy and love, throws herself 
 into the arms of her lover. 
 
 The curtain quickly closes. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Scene I. — The scene represents a mountainous, sax- 
 age, and arid country ; on the right, a road cut in the 
 rock leads to a kind of stonv platform. Under this 
 ledge is a grotto. In the centre of the stage there is a 
 narrow passage with a chaos of rocks in the background ; 
 then, to the left is another heap of rocks from which a
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 167 
 
 road rises, turning and leading to the rocks in the 
 background. 
 
 Wot an charges his favourite daughter, the virgin war- 
 rior, Brunnhilde, with the fate or" Sicgmund, whom he 
 wishes to be victorious in his fight with Hunding. The 
 Walkyrie departs, happy with the mission intrusted to 
 her, uttering her war-cry and announcing to her father 
 the approach of the goddess Fricka, who arrives in a 
 chariot drawn by two rams ; she has come to combat 
 her husband's resolution. 
 
 The guilty love of Sicgmund and Sieglinde outrages 
 her, the guardian of the sacred ties of marriage and of 
 the familv, and she claims the victory for Hunding, the 
 wronged husband, who has placed his defence in her 
 hands. In vain the god upholds the cause of those 
 who love one another and whom he considers free to 
 follow the dictates of their love; in vain he explains to 
 the goddess the imperative reasons he has in preserving 
 Sicgmund to accomplish that course of action which will 
 save the gods from extreme peril : the goddess, already 
 wounded a hundred times bv the infidelities of her vola- 
 tile husband, has been willing to put up with the pres- 
 ence of the Walkyries, his illegitimate daughters, who, 
 at least, are respectful of her authority ; but if the god 
 persists in protecting this criminal couple, a living testi- 
 mony to his amours with a mortal, when, under the 
 name of Walse, he wandered in the forests, that is 
 something she will not tolerate. 
 
 Wotan,deep down in his heart, is forced to recognize 
 the justice of his companion's words. Does she not 
 represent the established order and the wisdom of affairs, 
 and did he not once pav for his precious conquest by 
 the loss of one of his eves, when he wished to drink at 
 the source of wisdom ?
 
 168 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 After a violent struggle with himself, he takes the 
 oath Fricka demands, and remains a prey to a deep grief, 
 while the goddess departs, strong in the promise she 
 has gained, and he calls Briinnhilde to give her fresh 
 instructions. 
 
 Scene II. — The Walkyrie, disquieted at Fricka's 
 triumphant look, hastily approaches her father, whom 
 she finds much cast down by the attack he has just suf- 
 fered and the oath he has been forced to make. Grieved 
 at the distress of her beloved father, she casts away her 
 arms and shield, and falls down before him in an attitude 
 eloquent of trust and affection ; she begs him to un- 
 burden his heart to her. He then confides in his favour- 
 ite child, who is the mightiest expression of his will and 
 of his most intimate thought. Before her he, diving 
 into the deepest recesses of his heart, reviews the faults 
 which have led to this result : the ambition which took 
 possession of his heart when the ardour of legitimate 
 love died down within him ; the obligations he, contrac- 
 ted in his greed for power and at the advice of the 
 crafty Loge to render the other gods subservient ; and 
 the robbery of the Ring, which has brought upon him 
 the implacable hatred of the Nibelung Alberich. This 
 Ring should have been restored to the depths of the 
 Rhine to bring to an end all the dangers which it has 
 excited, but Wotan used it in payment for the castle 
 Walhalla, which the giants built, and it is now the 
 property of Fafner, who guards it with jealous care 
 deep in his cave. 
 
 In his distress, the god wanted to consult Erda, who 
 had already on one occasion given him salutary advice; 
 he compelled her to tell him all her thoughts ; then, 
 seducin g her by means of a lov e -philtre , he made her the 
 mother of the nine warrior-virgins, Briinnhilde and her
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 169 
 
 sisters, of whom he wished to make use as the instru- 
 ments of his safety : the Walkyries have received from 
 him the mission of bringing to Walhalla all heroes who 
 die on the Held of battle, and thus peopling the kingdom 
 of Wotan with intrepid defenders in preparation for the 
 day when Alberich's army will threateningly advance 
 against him. Hut all these precautions will be vain if 
 the gnome can again possess himself of the cursed Ring ; 
 this must be prevented at all costs, and yet Wotan can- 
 not deprive Fafner of what he formerly gave him. Only 
 one being can accomplish that task: this must be a hero 
 free and independent, who will do the work involun- 
 tarily, and without having received the mission. The 
 god had chosen his son, Siegmund, to be this hero; for 
 long years he has prepared him for this act of redemp- 
 tion : he has wandered with him in the forests, stimu- 
 lating him to temerity ; he has armed him with an 
 invincible sword: but what now avails all this care, 
 since Fricka has compelled her husband to bow to her 
 wishes ? 
 
 Wotan's fury and despair break out at the thought of 
 abandoning him whom he loves and wished to protect, 
 and, in his desolation, he curses his own sovereignty and 
 wishes the gods may come to an end. He can foresee 
 that end ; Erda has announced it for the day when a son 
 shall be born to Alberich : now this child is on the way, 
 he is about to come into the world ; and Wotan, in the 
 heat of his anger, bequeaths to him the torments and 
 fatal splendours of divinity. 
 
 In vain does Briinnhilde plead the cause of Siegmund, 
 whom she knows her father loves ; she will act in 
 accordance with the god's secret wishes, notwithstand- 
 ing his oath ; but Wotan is immovable ; he bitterly 
 enjoins her to obey Fricka ; and, threatening the Wal-
 
 1 7 o THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 kyrie with chastisement if she attempts to transgress his 
 orders, he departs into the mountains. 
 
 Briinnhilde, terrified, sadly gathers up her arms and 
 takes her way to the grotto where rests her horse, 
 Grane, at the same time watching Siegmund and Sieg- 
 linde, who are ascending the ravine. 
 
 Scene III. — Sieglinde, deaf to the words of love 
 which Siegmund is murmuring in her ear, is beseeching 
 him to flee without delay ; she no longer wishes to give 
 herself to him she loves after having belonged by force 
 to a hated master. 
 
 The distant sounds of the horn and hounds make her 
 tremble ; her lover will not be able to fight so many 
 adversaries, and his sword will be powerless to defend 
 him. Mad with grief and agony, hearing the enemy 
 coming nearer, in her hallucination she thinks she sees 
 her lover become the prey of the furious dogs, and, 
 uttering a piercing cry, she falls fainting. Siegmund 
 carefully places her on the ground, and, kissing her 
 brow, he sits down upon, a hillock and rests her beloved 
 head on his knees. 
 
 Scene IV. — Meanwhile Briinnhilde advances, gravely 
 leading her noble charger. She appears to the warrior 
 and announces that he is destined to perish in the 
 coming combat ; she comes only to heroes who are 
 devoted to a glorious death : he must prepare to follow 
 her to Walhalla. Siegmund in contempt of death asks 
 her if in the abode of the gods he will find his beloved Sieg- 
 linde again. — No, answers Briinnhilde, the Walkyries 
 will pour out the mead for him ; Sieglinde must still 
 remain upon this earth. — The warrior then refuses the 
 joys of the enchanted abode if he may not share them 
 with his beloved companion ; he will fight Hunding 
 without fear, thanks to the invincible weapon, of the
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 171 
 
 success of which he has been assured by his father; but 
 if the latter now withdraws his protection, if he must 
 die, let Hclla l take him: he docs not wish to share the 
 fate of the immortals, and before dying he will kill his 
 betrothed, so that no other being shall touch her living. 
 He draws his sword and is about to transpierce the still 
 fainting Sieglinde ; in vain docs Brunnhilde reveal to 
 him that in striking his companion he will destroy two 
 lives, for Sieglinde bears within her a pledge of his love; 
 even then he is going to give the fatal blow, when the 
 Walkyne, touched with compassion by such fidelity, stays 
 his arm, and, granting him her support and assistance in 
 the hour of combat, promises to meet him on the field 
 of battle, and departs with Granc. Siegmund, trans- 
 figured with happiness, follows her with his eyes as she 
 goes. 
 
 Scene V. — He gently places the sleeping Sieglinde 
 on a stone seat, and hastens in the direction of the 
 enemy, amid heavy storm-clouds which form and darken 
 all the background of the scene. The martial trumpet- 
 ings of the pursuer come nearer and nearer. 
 
 Sieglinde, in her dream, recalls her memories of 
 childhood : she again sees the fatal fire which consumed 
 her home and dispersed her relations, then she is sud- 
 denlv awakened by the noise of the thunder rolling on 
 every side ; from the rocks, at the back, which are cano- 
 pied with clouds, are heard the voices of the two com- 
 batants, Siegmund and Hundiug, defying each other. 
 Sieglinde tries to run to separate them, but she is blinded 
 by the lightning, and totters. Then Brunnhilde is seen 
 in the air above Siegmund, shielding him and encourag- 
 ing him with her voice; he is about to give Hunding a 
 
 *** Hella personifies common death: to her belong those who 
 perish otherwise than in battle.
 
 1 72 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 mortal blow, when Wotan, appearing in turn in a blaze 
 of fire, extends his spear between the two foes ; at its 
 contact, Siegmund's sword breaks, and Hunding is able 
 to plunge his weapon into his heart. Darkness over- 
 spreads the scene ; and Briinnhilde is scarcely visible as 
 she raises the inanimate Sieglinde and places her on her 
 charger to carry her off. At this moment the cloud 
 parts and discloses Hunding withdrawing his sword from 
 Siegmund's body. Wotan despairingly gazes on the 
 body of his son, and darts so terrible a look at Hunding 
 that he falls, stricken, at his feet ; then the god lets 
 loose his furious rage on the rebellious daughter who has 
 dared to disobey him, and starts in pursuit to punish 
 her. 
 
 The curtain closes rapidly. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Scene I. — The stage represents a rocky plateau at 
 the top of the mountain. Some fir-woods contribute a 
 meagre verdure to the place ; in the distance, separated 
 from the foreground by wide valleys, are other peaks, 
 which, in the first scenes, are hidden by fogs driven by 
 the wind and constantly rising from the hollows. On the 
 right is a rocky eminence, up which is a kind of stairway ; 
 in the centre of the stage is a bare block which serves 
 as a post of observation over the valley. On the left 
 are several footpaths leading to the plateau ; at the back, 
 a pine, much larger than its fellows, spreads its wide 
 arms above its mighty roots. 
 
 Four of the Walkyries, Gerhilde, Ortlinde, Waltraute, 
 and Schwertleite, armed from head to foot, have stationed 
 themselves in observation on the summit of the rocks on 
 the right ; they utter their war-cry to call their sisters, 
 who, with the exception of Briinnhilde, arrive, one by
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 173 
 
 one, riding through the air in swift clouds, and having 
 attached to their saddles the bodies of warriors who have 
 died as heroes and who are destined for Walhalla. The 
 newcomers, Helmwige, Siegrune, Grimgerde, and Ross- 
 weisse, pasture their horses, which are still animated 
 with the ardour of the fight, whilst awaiting the tardy 
 Brunnhilde, who soon appears, breathless and mounted 
 on her noble horse, Grane, and with a living woman, 
 Sieglinde, on the croup. 
 
 In answer to her sisters' questions, she tells them that 
 she is fleeing from the anger of Wotan, whom she has 
 dared to disobey and who is pursuing her in fierce anger. 
 She beseeches them to help her save her protegee ; but the 
 Walkyries are unwilling to draw down upon themselves 
 the anger of the god, and refuse. Sieglinde, in despair 
 at having survived her lover, reproaches Brunnhilde for 
 having robbed her of death and adjures her to plunge her 
 sword into her heart ; but Brunnhilde tells her that she 
 bears a Walsung in her bosom, that she must live to pre- 
 serve the life of that son, who will soon be born and who 
 will be a valiant hero. Sieglinde, at first terrified and 
 then seized with a great joy, now wishes to live at all 
 costs ; by the advice of the Walkyries, and for the sake 
 of saving her child, she will take refuge alone in the 
 forest which extends toward the east and where dwells 
 Fafner, the jealous guardian of the fatal treasure. Wo- 
 tan never bends his steps in that direction; she will 
 therefore be safe in that retreat. 
 
 But they must make haste, for the storm, which is the 
 precursor of Wotan's arrival, is coming nearer and nearer ; 
 lightnings play among the clouds, and Waltraute soon 
 signals the arrival of the Father of the Gods. 
 
 Brunnhilde hastens the flight of the unfortunate 
 woman, exhorting her courageously to support the rude
 
 174 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 life which she is going to lead in solitude, and promises 
 her that the child she bears within her shall be a hero, 
 supreme above all. His name shall be Siegfried, and his 
 mother must arm him with his father's sword, which is 
 none other than the Sword of the Gods, shattered by 
 Wotan himself in the fatal combat, the fragments of 
 which the Walkyrie has carefully collected, and now 
 confides them to Sieglinde. The fugitive blesses Briinn- 
 hilde for her tender care and darts into the forest in the 
 direction of the retreat designated. 
 
 During this last scene the storm has redoubled in 
 intensity. 
 
 Scene II. — Amid' the rollings of the thunder Wotan's 
 voice is heard grumbling and chiding ; Briinnhilde can 
 flee no further ; pale and distracted, she tries to hide her- 
 self among her sisters ; they vainly seek to conceal her 
 from the eyes of her father, who, consumed with terrible 
 anger, calls the culprit. The virgin then separates her- 
 self from the group of Walkyries, and, with a respectful 
 but firm and heroic attitude, comes to submit to the 
 will of her judge. He then breaks out into a storm of 
 reproaches against this daughter who was formerly the 
 dearest of all, whom he delighted to entrust with the 
 most glorious missions, who was the child of his heart, 
 and who now, a rebel, has dared to brave him. She 
 has sealed her own fate : he exiles her from Walhalla, 
 disowns her, and deprives her forever of her divine 
 nature. He will leave her defenceless, asleep by the 
 wayside, and the first passer-by who wakes her may 
 make her his slave ; she shall spin flax in subjection to a 
 mortal, and shall be the laughing-stock of all. 
 
 The other Walkyries utter cries of despair, vainly try- 
 ing to move their father, who threatens them with the 
 same fate if they attempt to defend the rebel. They go
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 *75 
 
 away with wild cries of distress, and are soon seen on their 
 horses in the distance, disappearing among the clouds. 
 
 The tempest, which has been raging the whole time, 
 now gradually abates ; the masses of vapour are dissi- 
 pated, and a serene night succeeds the uproar and 
 enfolds the landscape. 
 
 Scene III. — Briinnhilde, who has been prostrated at 
 the feet of the god, raises her head and tries to meet her 
 father's eye to implore his forgiveness. She beseeches 
 him to regard her fault with more leniency : is her crime 
 of such an infamous nature as to merit so degrading and 
 cruel a penalty ? At first he had commanded her to up- 
 hold and bring about the triumph of the Walsung ; it 
 was only under the duresse of a forced promise that he 
 deprived his son of his protection ; but she, Briinnhilde, 
 the child of his heart, thought she would act in accord- 
 ance with his inner thoughts and secret desires by help- 
 ing Siegmund at any cost. — No, replies Wotan, she 
 should not have arrogated to herself the right of acting 
 as he would personally have been so willing to do had it 
 not been for the fatal oath exacted by Fricka ; at the 
 very moment when her father, tortured by destiny, was 
 dreaming in despair of annihilating himself once for all, 
 she should not have yielded to the sweet pleasure of 
 hearkening to her own tender compassion ; the god per- 
 sists in his harsh judgment : he banishes her forever 
 from his presence, and, since she has of her own will 
 allowed herself to be swayed by love, she shall hence- 
 forth be the slave of love. 
 
 The unfortunate Walkyrie entreats her father to con- 
 sider that, although he deprives her of her Walhalla life, 
 she formerly formed a part of his divine being, and that 
 he would be dishonouring himself to give her up to the 
 first comer, perchance a coward. A new hero, adven-
 
 1 76 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 turous and brave, is about to be born to the race of the 
 Wiilsungs j let him be her saviour and her master ! — 
 At the reiterated refusal of the god, she prays him at 
 least to permit a terrible barrier to be raised around her 
 during her fatal sleep, in order that none but a mortal to 
 whom fear is unknown may, in triumphing over the 
 danger, achieve the conquest. The god, at last, touched 
 by the heroic courage of his unfortunate child, feels his 
 paternal heart melt before a spirit so proud under dis- 
 tress ; he consents to accede to her last wish : around 
 her he will raise a burning barrier, whose devouring 
 flames will frighten away the timid, and which the 
 desired hero will alone be able to pass ; then, raising 
 her, he holds her to his heart in a long embrace, saying 
 many tender farewell words. — These lips, which so 
 joyously sang the glory of heroes, must be silent ; these 
 luminous eyes, which he has so often fondly kissed and 
 whose glance has so often comforted him in hours of 
 sadness, must be closed forever for the unfortunate god, 
 and may only open for the happy mortal who will suc- 
 ceed in gaining her. — With a supreme kiss, he takes 
 away her divinity and closes her eyelids. Brunnhilde, 
 overcome with drowsiness, slowly falls asleep; he then 
 takes her to a mossy bank shaded by a wide-branched fir, 
 in the shelter of which he lays her inanimate form. He 
 gazes upon her with emotion, then he closes her casque, 
 sets her lance beside her as a sign of authority, and 
 covers her with her long steel Walkyrie shield. 
 
 Then, striking the rock three times with his spear, he 
 evokes Loge, the god of fire. A flame springs up, 
 increases in volume, and soon surrounds the rock with a 
 fear-inspiring and magnificent belt of fire, forming an in- 
 accessible rampart around the sleeping virgin. 
 
 The curtain closes very slowly.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER i-jy 
 
 SIEGFRIED 
 
 Act I. 
 
 Scene I. — The scenery shows a large cavern in the 
 midst of the forest, in which Mime has established his 
 dwelling and forge. At the hack, on the right, there 
 are large natural openings through which is visible the 
 verdure of the sunlit woods. On the right, in the fore- 
 ground, is a bed covered with skins of animals ; in the 
 middle distance, on the left, are the hearth and bellows 
 of the forge, from which the smoke escapes by a vast 
 natural chimney. In the foreground is a cupboard in 
 which the gnome keeps his food. Thick cinders lie 
 over everything. 
 
 Mime, with growls and curses, is forging a new sword 
 for Siegfried, who takes a malicious pleasure in constantly 
 breaking the blades which the dwarf gives him. 
 
 Ah ! why can he not succeed in uniting the fragments 
 of Nothung, Siegmund's weapon ! In the youth's hands 
 it would easily triumph over Fafner, who, transformed 
 into a dragon, is still the guardian of the magic Ring. 
 Siegfried could gain possession of the talisman, which, in 
 his turn, Mime could wrest from him ; but all efforts 
 are vain ! The fragments of the mysterious sword will 
 not unite in his hands ! He spitefully continues to 
 strike the anvil, whilst talking to himself. 
 
 Siegfried in forest dress, with a silver horn on a chain, 
 appears, joyously leading a bear with a rope, having cap- 
 tured it in the forest, and sets it at the terrified Mime. 
 He rallies him on his cowardice, and then, freeing the 
 bear, which disappears into the forest, he claims the 
 sword which he had ordered the Nibelung to make him, 
 and breaks it on the anvil at the first attempt as he has 
 
 12
 
 i 7 8 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 done with all the others. His conversation already testi- 
 fies how little affection and esteem he has for the dwarf; 
 and Mime vainly recapitulates all the troubles and all the 
 care he has taken of him from his birth. Siegfried goes 
 and lies down on the couch, and contemptuously kicks 
 to the ground the food which the dwarf brings him ; 
 he mocks him and asks himself how it is that, feeling 
 such an aversion for this miserable gnome, he still 
 returns here every day after his ramblings in the for- 
 est. — His foster-father replies that, despite his whims, 
 this proves that Mime is dear to his heart. — But 
 Siegfried laughs at this idea ; he puts fresh questions to 
 the dwarf and refuses to believe that this squinting 
 and hideous abortion can be the author of his existence, 
 as the knave is trying to persuade him. He urges him 
 to tell him who were his real parents : Mime tries to 
 avoid answering, and finally, being compelled by the 
 irritated youth, confesses that he is the son of an unhappy 
 fugitive, who, overwhelmed with grief and agonv, one 
 day sought refuge in the forest and died in giving birth 
 to him. Siegfried shows great emotion at this story. 
 The crafty dwarf repeatedly returns to the enumeration 
 of all the benefits he has bestowed upon the child whom 
 the poor dying Sieglinde had confided to his care, but the 
 impetuous youth unceremoniously interrupts him and 
 forces him to tell him the rest of his story. Little by 
 little he learns that, before expiring, his mother gave him 
 his name of Siegfried, and that his father had been slain 
 in a combat, leaving him as his onlv heritage the frag- 
 ments of a sword which had broken in the last fight, and 
 which are still preserved by the Nibelung. At this reve- 
 lation Siegfried flies into a passion ; he orders the dwarf 
 to weld together the fragments of his father's sword, with 
 which he will leave the forest, free and joyous, to travel
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 179 
 
 over the world ; he must have this sword immediately : 
 he demands that Mime shall forge it without any delay, 
 and springs out of the cave after having threatened the 
 dwarf, who, on being left alone, is in a state of despair: 
 he no more knows how to manage the rebel steel than 
 to keep him whose unconscious arm, in accordance with 
 his dark machinations, is to conquer for him the treasure 
 that he covets and that is so well guarded by the terrible 
 dragon. 
 
 Sckne II. — While he gives way to these discourag- 
 ing reflections, there comes into the cavern a stranger, 
 heavily muffled in a dark cloak and having on his head a 
 large hat which conceals part of his face. This stranger, 
 who is none other than the god Wotan, refuses to reveal 
 his identity to Mime; he styles himself the Wanderer, 
 and asks to be allowed to rest after the fatigues of the 
 journey. Despite his grudging reception by the dwarf, 
 who sees in him a spy whose presence frightens and dis- 
 turbs him, the god enters, and, sitting down at the 
 hearth, tells his host that often while wandering over the 
 face of the earth he pays the hospitality he receives by 
 wise counsels which he gives to those who desire to 
 question him, and he offers to forfeit his head if Mime 
 in questioning him does not learn from his answers 
 something which is important for him to know. The 
 dwarf, to get rid of him, accepts the gage, and asks him 
 three questions, which the Wanderer promises to solve: 
 " Who are the people living in the bowels of the earth ? " 
 first asks Mime. — "They are the Nibelungs, whom 
 their chief Alberich subjugated, thanks to the power of 
 the magic Ring," the stranger replies. — "What race 
 lives on the surface of the earth ? " — " The race of the 
 giants, whose princes, Fasolt and Fafner, acquired the 
 treasures of the Rhine and the cursed Ring. Fafner killed
 
 
 i8o THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 his brother, and now, transformed into a dragon, guards 
 this treasure." — Mime, who is deeply interested in the 
 Wanderer, again asks him : " Who are the inhabitants 
 of the cloudy heights?" — "They are the luminous 
 elves who dwell in Walhalla, and their chief, Wotan, has 
 conquered the universe by virtue of his lance, on which 
 are graved the sacred runes." 
 
 At the conclusion of these words, the stranger strikes 
 the ground with his staff, and a roll of thunder is heard, 
 which makes Mime start from his reverie. The dwarf 
 being satisfied with the answers he has received, now 
 wants to get rid of the Wanderer, in whom he has at 
 length recognized the Father of the Gods ; but the latter 
 questions him in his turn, holding his head as a forfeit if 
 he does not answer his questions : " What race is perse- 
 cuted by Wotan despite the love he bears them ? " — 
 " The Walsungs," replies Mime, who rapidly sketches 
 their history. — " What sword is intended, according to 
 . the dark designs of a Nibelung, to slay Fafner, by the 
 
 agency of Siegfried, and make the dwarf master of the 
 Ring?" — " Nothung," cries Mime, carried away by 
 the interest he takes in the question. — Finally, " Who 
 is the skilful smith who will succeed in reuniting the 
 wondrous fragments of the blade ? " 
 
 At these words, Mime trembles with fright; the 
 question reawakens all his anxieties, and the Wanderer, 
 laughing at his emotion, tells him that only he who 
 knows no fear will be able to triumph over the difficulty. 
 The dwarf has not succeeded in answering the last 
 question ; his life, therefore, is forfeit to the stranger, 
 who goes away into the forest, bequeathing the gnome's 
 head to him who has never known fear. 
 
 Scene III. — On being left alone, Mime sinks down 
 behind the anvil ; that fear which he ought never to
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 181 
 
 have felt, if he wants to forge the steel successful , 
 takes complete possession of him; in his delirium he 
 already thinks he sees the dragon, the terrible Fafner, 
 approaching ; he trembles in every limb, utters loud 
 cries, and rolls on the ground. 
 
 Siegfried, on his return from his expedition into the 
 forest, finds him in this condition. He again asks for 
 the sword ; but the dwarf now knows that he himself 
 cannot forge it, and then understands that this youth, 
 who has never known what fear is, is the one to whom 
 the Wanderer bequeathed his head on departing. To 
 escape this peril, it is necessary, cost what it mav, to 
 terrify this bold heart, and, with this idea, he tells Sieg- 
 fried that, according to his mother's wish, he cannot 
 leave these solitudes without first having learnt fear. 
 To excite it he draws a moving picture of the forest 
 when darkness is falling upon it, when vague murmurs 
 mingle with the savage cries of the wild beasts. Sieg- 
 fried is well acquainted with this mysterious hour, but 
 it has never yet disturbed his heart in any way. Mime 
 then speaks to him of the terrible dragon, Fafner, who 
 strangles and devours all who attempt to approach him, 
 whose retreat, Neidhohle, the cavern of envy, is at the 
 extremity of the forest. 
 
 The dwarf's tale only serves to awaken the curiosity 
 of the ardent youth ; he wants to go to seek fear before 
 the monster's retreat ; he wants to set out, but not with- 
 out being armed with Nothung, and he calls upon Mime, 
 for the last time, to forge it for him. At the fresh pro- 
 crastinations of the wily gnome, who knows he cannot 
 perform the task, Siegfried snatches the pieces of the 
 sword from his hands, and sets eagerly to work to reduce 
 the metal to filings and afterwards to forge it. In 
 honour of the cherished weapon, he sings a joyous song,
 
 i8i THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 which alternates with the malevolent imprecations of the 
 elf, who feels all his anxieties returning, now that his 
 dark schemes are melting away. 
 
 The dwarf, however, will make a last effort for 
 success ; he will let the bold youth conquer the dragon 
 with his wondrous sword, and then, when he is ex- 
 hausted with the combat, Mime will present him with an 
 enchanted draught, a few drops of which will plunge 
 him into a deep sleep and leave him defenceless. Then 
 the Nibelung will only have to pursue his way to the 
 cave where he will easily be able to seize the treasure 
 which he has so long and ardently coveted. Already he 
 sees himself in possession of the Ring of the omnipotent 
 charm, and tastes in advance long draughts of the in- 
 toxicating pleasures of sovereign power. He takes from 
 the cupboard the ingredients necessary for his infernal 
 concoction and begins to mix it on the other end of the 
 hearth of the forge. 
 
 Meanwhile, Siegfried, still gaily singing, has finished 
 the forging of his marvellous weapon ; he tempers it, 
 and then tries it on the anvil, which this time he easily 
 cleaves with a powerful blow. The dwarf, whose medi- 
 tations are thus rudely interrupted, starts and falls to the 
 ground overwhelmed with terror, while the youth joy- 
 ously and triumphantly brandishes his sword. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Scene I. — The action takes place in the forest, be- 
 fore the cavern in which the drowsy Fafner is guarding 
 his treasure. On the right, in the foreground, are thick 
 reeds ; in the centre, an enormous lime-tree with mighty 
 limbs, and roots which form a kind of natural seat. In 
 the middle distance, which is partly elevated, toward the 
 kit, half hidden by a mass of rocks, is the opening to
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 183 
 
 the dragon's den. A wall of rugged rocks forms the 
 background. A dark night reigns over the whole scene. 
 
 Alherich is anxiously keeping watch outside- the 
 Neidhohlc, the retreat of the monster whose treasure In- 
 still hopes to gain, when, accompanied by a storm-wind, 
 and suddenly illuminated by a moonbeam which pierces 
 the clouds, the Wanderer arrives. 
 
 The elf, furious at the presence of his enemy, hreaks 
 out into threatenings and insults against the god, whom 
 he suspects of desiring to help Siegfried in his struggle 
 with the monster. But Wotan, who has come to see 
 and not to act, being firmly resolved not in any way to 
 protect the hero whose race he has been compelled to 
 abandon, answers Alberich that the only person he has 
 to fear is Mime. Mime alone desires the Ring, of 
 whose magic power the youth is entirely ignorant. As 
 for Wotan himself, he disdains it. To support his words, 
 he proposes to the Nibelung the idea of warning the 
 monster of the danger which threatens him and offering 
 to save his life in exchange for the Talisman. The 
 dragon, Fafner, awakened from his heavy sleep, declines 
 their proposition : he is not willing to give up his useless 
 power. The god, laughing at the dwarf's discomfiture, 
 departs in the ragings of the storm, advising him to be- 
 have in a conciliators way towards his brother Mime. 
 
 The Nibelung, following him with a malevolent 
 glance, renews his imprecations, swearing to pursue his 
 conquest and one day to crush the detested race of the 
 gods. He hides himself in a cleft in the rocks; day 
 begins to break. 
 
 Scene II. — Mime and Siegfried arrive, Siegfried 
 armed with the sword. Siegfried sits down under the 
 big lime-tree, his companion faces him, and attempts to 
 terrify him by pointing out the retreat which yawns a
 
 1 84 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 few paces from them, and depicting the horrible monster, 
 the denizen of thai cavern, who seizes all who have the 
 imprudence to approach him in his terrible jaws and 
 covers them with a venomous froth which consumes the 
 flesh of his victims, or crushes and suffocates them in 
 the coils of his long tail. 
 
 Siegfried, who is unmoved at his words, promises him- 
 self to plunge Nothung into the monster's heart ; and 
 when Mime insists and persists that he will feel fear on 
 finding himself face to face with the dragon, he becomes 
 impatient and forces him to go away, threatening him in 
 his turn with the frightful beast. 
 
 Being now alone and awaiting the combat, Siegfried 
 joyfully thinks that he is now going to leave forever this 
 odious dwarf who is so hateful to him ; he also thinks 
 with deep tenderness of that mother whom he would 
 have loved so dearly and whose caresses he has never 
 known. He takes a delight in thinking of her as beau- 
 tiful and gentle, with eyes clear and brilliant as those of 
 a gazelle. He sighs and becomes meditative, then his 
 dreaming is interrupted by the murmurs of the forest, 
 which come from every direction and fill his soul with a 
 mvsterious poetrv ; and bv the joyous song of a bird perched 
 above his head, whose language he regrets not being able 
 to understand ; perhaps it would speak to him of that 
 dear mother ? He wishes to imitate its warbling and 
 cuts a reed with his sword to make a pipe; but he can 
 only draw harsh sounds from this primitive instrument, 
 and, casting it away in disgust, he takes up his silver 
 horn instead, and on it he sounds a jovous call. Hitherto, 
 when he has called thus on the forest for a dear com- 
 panion, he has only found the bear and the wolf; what 
 will come now ? 
 
 So saying, Siegfried turns and finds himself in the pres-
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 185 
 
 ence of Fafner, who, in the form of a hideous reptile, 
 has advanced to the middle of the stage, and utters a 
 loud roar. The youth laughs at the sight of him, and 
 is not in the least afraid of the monster's menacing 
 words ; he rallies him on his delicate little teeth, and, 
 drawing his sword, he resolutely places himself before 
 him. The dragon vainly attempts to spurt his deadly 
 venom upon him and enfold him with his tail so as to 
 crush him : the young hero foils his attempts, and, profit- 
 ing from an instant in which his enemy turns round, he 
 plunges Nothung into his heart. The dying Fafner 
 admires the courage of the youth who has dared to brave 
 him; he tells him what, personality he concealed under 
 this hideous form, and his last words are of useful coun- 
 sel to Siegfried, who must guard against the dark designs 
 of him who brought him here; then he rolls over on the 
 ground, lifeless. At the moment when Siegfried with- 
 draws his sword from the monster's breast, his hand is 
 covered with the burning blood which gushes from the 
 wound ; he involuntarily lifts his fingers to his lips to 
 get rid of the blood, and then for a few moments he 
 stands in thought. Suddenly his attention is attracted by 
 the bird's song, the meaning of which he now seems to 
 comprehend. Has such a prodigy been wrought by his 
 having tasted of the blood ? The bird,- in a lan«-uao;e he 
 can understand, advises him to go into the cavern and 
 take possession of the Tarnhelm and the Ring, the 
 power of which it reveals to him. The hero thanks 
 his gracious protector and disappears in the depths of the 
 cave. 
 
 Scene III. — Whilst he is exploring it, Mime issues 
 from his hiding-place, and, not seeing Siegfried, is about 
 to enter the cavern, when Alberich, also leaving his re- 
 treat, bars his passage. A heated discussion then arises
 
 186 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 between the two dwarfs concerning the coveted treasure. 
 Mime ends by proposing to share it with his brother, 
 but the latter rejects the offer with disdain : he offers 
 him the Ring and will keep the Tarnhelm for himself, 
 cunningly calculating that it will be easy later to wrest 
 the Ring from his brother by the aid of the enchanted 
 casque. Alberich contemptuously refuses ; and the 
 quarrel grows very bitter, each one swearing that the 
 treasure shall belong to him entirely. They disappear 
 among the trees and rocks, giving place to Siegfried, 
 whom they are enraged to see come out of the cavern 
 earnestly gazing at the magic helmet and the Ring. 
 He halts under the tree, asking himself of what use will 
 be these treasures, which he would not have gathered 
 save for the advice of the bird, whose whole meaning he 
 did not exactly grasp : they will only serve to remind 
 him of his victory in which he had no knowledge of 
 fear. 
 
 Through the silence the murmurs of the forest are 
 again heard, increasing and flooding with a glorious sym- 
 phony the soul of the youth, who, now in complete com- 
 munion with the mysterious voices of Nature, plainly 
 perceives the sublime and hidden meaning of it all. The 
 bird's song is again heard instructing him regarding 
 Mime's treachery : Siegfried will only have to listen at- 
 tentively to the gnome's words to understand their real 
 signification. In fact, the crafty dwarf again advances, 
 meditating the treachery which will assure him the vic- 
 tory he has so long coveted ; his language betrays him 
 despite himself, and his words exactly mirror the black 
 feelings in his heart, although he tries to make them 
 affectionate and reassuring : he has always hated the 
 child who was confided to his care, but he wanted to 
 make him his instrument for gaining the treasure; he
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 187 
 
 now offers him a poisoned draught, under the pretext 
 of refreshing him, and when his victim is extended on 
 the ground with his limbs stiff in death, he will at last 
 seize the talisman, the object of his ardent desire. Sieg- 
 fried, indignant at the odious schemes of the scoundrel, 
 lays him dead at his feet with a pass of his sword ; then he 
 raises the body and casts it disdainfully into the cavern, 
 before which he rolls the body of the dragon ; they shall 
 thus unite in guarding the riches heaped up in the cave. 
 
 Wearied by all his exploits, the hero lies down at the 
 foot of the tree ; the -melodies of the forest are again 
 heard and he asks his pretty companion, the bird, to sing 
 again. -Cannot the friend who has already given him 
 such valuable counsel continue to guide him, him, so 
 lonely in the world and so hungry for the affections to 
 which his heart has so long been a stranger ? The 
 wondrous bird then tells him that on a solitary rock, sur- 
 rounded by flames which jealously guard her, sleeps the 
 loveliest of women ; she there awaits the lover who will 
 brave the fire to gain her; Briinnhilde is her name; she 
 will only belong to a hero whose soul has never been 
 accessible to fear. 
 
 Siegfried, whose , heart is unconscious of all fear, 
 recognizes himself as the chosen one who is to triumph. 
 Delighted, in a state of exaltation, and intoxicated with 
 desire, he springs to the conquest of her who is to be 
 his ; the bird, to show the way, hovers above him, and 
 the hero follows the way indicated with joyous cries. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Scene I. — The scenery shows a narrow defile in a 
 savage, bare, and rocky country. A crypt-like cave, the 
 dark mouth of which is visible, is cut into the mountain,
 
 188 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 which rises to a point in the middle distance. On the 
 left is a path among the wilderness of rocks; the land- 
 scape is shrouded in semi-obscurity. 
 
 The Wanderer has halted at the entrance of the crypt, 
 in which reposes in her eternal sleep Erda, the ancient 
 spirit of the earth. He evokes her, and, by the power 
 of his spell, forces her to awake. He wants to ques- 
 tion her, for she is the wisdom of the world ; no mys- 
 tery is hidden from her, and the god is anxious to share 
 her knowledge. 
 
 The prophetess slowly emerges from her mysterious 
 retreat, enveloped in a weird light ; her hair and her 
 gleaming robes seem covered with hoar-frost. She has 
 with difficulty been aroused by the influence of the spell 
 from her profound slumber, but she knows nothing : all 
 her knowledge abandons her when she awakes ; she can- 
 not answer Wotan, and advises him to apply to the 
 Norns, who spin and weave all the knowledge of their 
 eternal mother into the thread of the destinies. But 
 what the god seeks is not to know the future: he would 
 modify it. Why, then, does he not question the child 
 of his desire, the far-seeing Briinnhilde ? asks the Vala. 1 
 Then Wotan informs her of the punishment which he 
 has had to inflict on the rebel virgin. Can he still con- 
 sult her now that he has deprived her of her divinity ? 
 The goddess sinks into profound meditation ; her 
 thoughts trouble her since she has awoke ; she is not 
 willing to counsel him whose actions she blames, who, 
 after having ordered the Walkvrie to act in a certain^ 
 way, punishes her for having done so; who alternately 
 shackles justice and puts it in force and who perjures 
 himself in order to keep his oaths ; besides, she has no 
 
 1 Vala is the name which the Scandinavians gave to their 
 prophetesses.
 
 I 
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 189 
 
 power to change the immutable law of what is to be. 
 She asks to be freed from the spell and to return to her 
 eternal sleep. Wotan, not being able to get anything 
 from her, will allow her to descend into her dark retreat. 
 Let destiny be accomplished : he will no longer struggle 
 against ruin ; what he formerly decided he will now per- 
 form with joy; and the world, which in his anger he 
 had devoted to the hatred of the Nibelung, he will now 
 leave to the son of the Walsungs ; the hero, who, free 
 from all fear, has succeeded in conquering the magic 
 Ring, is going to awake Brunnhilde, and the fallen 
 daughter of the gods shall accomplish knowingly the act 
 of liberation which will set the world free ; it is she who 
 shall return to the Rhine the cursed gold which has 
 caused such great misfortunes ; it is she also who, 
 enveloping Walhalla in a tremendous conflagration, shall 
 bring about the end of the gods. Wotan then breaks 
 the spell which holds the prophetess ; she disappears into 
 the vault, which is again plunged in darkness ; the tem- 
 pest dies away, and the Wanderer silently awaits Sieg- 
 fried's arrival. 
 
 Dawn begins to break over the scene ; the guardian 
 bird comes riving in, then, suddenly frightened at the 
 sight of the two ravens which alwavs accompanv the 
 Ma>ter of the World, it disappears in full flight. 
 
 Siegfried joyously advances, following the way which 
 the bird has indicated. 
 
 1. II. — A dialogue commences between Siegfried 
 and W otan, who asks him questions, and to whom he 
 tells the storv of his exploit with the dragon, of the 
 wondrous sword in his hand, and the sweet conquest 
 which he aspires to make. 
 
 These words momentarily revive in the god's heart 
 the agony of the coming events which he faced just
 
 iqo THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 now with a firm will; for the last time he is tempted to 
 intervene, and endeavours to oppose the progress of the 
 young hero. Siegfried wants at any cost to follow the 
 road which the bird pointed out before it fled from 
 the presence of Wotan's ravens; he becomes angry 
 with this importunate stranger who wants to bar his wav, 
 and declares that if he opposes him he will deprive him 
 of his remaining eye; but the Wanderer, despising the 
 bold youth's rage and saying that he is the guardian of 
 the rock where Briinnhilde sleeps, threatens with its 
 flames the audacipus mortal who would pass beyond, and 
 he angrily bars the way with his lance. Siegfried, whose 
 impatience is at white heat, draws his sword and strikes 
 Wotan's spear, breaking it into fragments. There is a 
 clap of thunder ; the whole scene is fiMed with a sea of 
 flame ; and the god, finding himself vanquished, gives 
 place to his young and impetuous antagonist, and dis- 
 appears in the general commotion. 
 
 The conquering Siegfried, now joyfully sounds his 
 horn and springs through the flames which are extending 
 on the mountain ; the sound of his horn, growing more 
 and more distant, proves that he is scaling the rocks ; 
 then the flames abate, the clouds of smoke disappear, 
 and reveal under an azure sky the rock on which Briinn- 
 hilde is sleeping. 
 
 The scenery is the same as in the third act of Die 
 JValki'ire. 
 
 Scene III. — Siegfried, who has ceased sounding his 
 horn, looks around him in amazement. He perceives 
 the noble steed sleeping in the shadow of the fir, and then 
 the shining steel armour which glitters in the sun ; he 
 approaches and sees an armed warrior asleep with the 
 head enclosed in a helmet. He gentlv detaches the 
 helmet to make the sleeper more comfortable. Magni-
 
 OF RICHARD \\ VGNER [91 
 
 ficcnt tresses escape from it. Siegfried stands still in 
 astonishment and admiration. He now wants to take 
 off the Stirling cuirass and with the edge of his sword he 
 carefully cuts the thongs which hold the armour to- 
 gether : he is amazed and agitated at the sight of the 
 eful form of a woman enveloped in a flowing white 
 garment. Suddenly his heart is greatly troubled and 
 seized with a mortal agony, and in his emotion he calls 
 on the memory of his mother. Is this fear which at 
 length he feels 2 Was it reserved for this adorable being 
 to inspire him with terror? To awaken the maiden he 
 presses a long kiss upon her lips ; Briinnhilde then opens 
 her eyes, and they gaze upon one another with delight. 
 
 The Walkyrie slowly raises herself and addresses a 
 solemn hymn to the sun's light, from whose beams she 
 has so long been banished. Who has awakened her 
 from her interminable sleep ? Siegfried with emotion 
 tells her his name, blessing the mother who bore him 
 and the earth which nourished him, to permit him to see 
 thi' dawn of this happy day. 
 
 Briinnhilde joins her song of joy and gratitude to that 
 of Siegfried, Siegfried the well-beloved, who, even before 
 his birth, was the object of her love and care. 
 
 These strange words mislead the young hero : is not this 
 his mother whom he thought lost forever, and who is now 
 fount! ? — No, answers the virgin, smiling, his mother has 
 not been restored to him, but he has near him her who 
 has always loved and fought for him, for, although un- 
 consciously, it was her love that led her formerlj to 
 transgress Wotan's commands, and that drew upon her 
 the long expiation on the rock and exile from Walhalla. 
 At these thoughts, she becomes sad ; she resists the hero's 
 ardent caresses and wishes to get back her divine virgin- 
 ity and her immortal nature; she regretfully contem-
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 plates the brilliant steel of her cuirass and the shining 
 
 armour which formerly shielded her chaste body from the 
 
 - of" the profane; she calls upon her old wisdom and 
 
 'ike vision, and is terrified to rind that she is inspired 
 with them no longer; her knowledge is departed and 
 darkness obscures her thoughts : the daughter of the gods 
 has become a simple woman. 
 
 But at the same time earthly love wells up in her 
 heart and fills her whole being •, in vain she still tries to 
 Struggle with herself and repulse the ardour of Siegfried, 
 
 beseeches her to be his ; l<>\e is too strong. Briinn- 
 hilde is intoxicated with it. She will abandon the cause 
 of the puis. I. rt them all perish, that old and decrepit 
 
 ; let Walhalla be destroyed; let the Burg crumble 
 into dust ; let the eternals come to an end ! . . . 
 
 ns, unravel the rope of the destinies of the gods! 
 I • the ilusk of the gods begin : the virgin will only live 
 now for the love of Siegfried, her treasure, her star, her 
 all. . . . 
 
 In uncontrollable emotion she throws herself into the 
 arms of her lover, who receives her with ecstasy. 
 
 DIE GOTTERDAMMERUNG 
 
 Prologue. — The stage, as in the third act of Die 
 nts Brunnhilde's rock, but the whole 
 .<• is enveloped in blackest night. In the distance 
 only is there a faint reflection of flames. 
 
 Morns, draped in long flowing robes, are 
 
 the golden iokI of Destiny, which they pass to 
 
 : . The first and oldest is seated on the 
 
 he tii ; the second is King at the entrance of 
 
 the right ; and the third, the youngest of 
 
 the 'hi> 1 at the foot of the rock which com-
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 193 
 
 mands the valley. The first Norn points out to her 
 sisters the light which Loge ceaselessly maintains around 
 Briinnhilde's rock, and she tells them to sing and to 
 weave. She ties the golden cord to one of the branches 
 of the fir, and calls to mind that formerly it was a joy for 
 her to accomplish her task in the shelter of the mighty 
 branches of the world-ash, at the foot of which was a 
 fresh spring whence wisdom was gained. One day Wo- 
 tan came to the limpid water to drink there, and made 
 the sacred payment of the sacrifice of one of his eyes ; 
 then he tore off one of the strongest limbs of the tree to 
 make a battle-lance for himself. But from that moment 
 the ash began to wither, its foliage became yellow and 
 fell ; in the course of many centuries the trunk perished, 
 and, at the same time, the spring dried up. What hap- 
 pened then ? — And the Norn, throwing the cord to her 
 second sister, invites her to speak in her turn. — Wotan, 
 replies the Sibyl, graved on his lance the runes of the 
 treaties which constituted his power; he saw, fateful 
 omen ! his weapon shattered when he opposed a young 
 hero ; then he gathered together the warriors of Wal- 
 halla and made them destroy the world-ash. What hap- 
 pened afterwards ? the Norn asks her youngest sister, 
 throwing the cord to her. With it the heroes formed a 
 colossal pyre around the abode of the eternals, and Wo- 
 tan is sitting in silence in the midst of the august assem- 
 bly of the gods. If the wood, on taking fire, consumes 
 the magnificent Burg, that will be the end of the mas- 
 ters of the world. Wotan enslaved the crafty Loge and 
 stationed him in bright flames around Briinnhilde's rock; 
 then he plunged the splinters of his broken weapon into 
 the heart of the flaming god. What happened then ? — 
 The cord, which the Norns are weaving, begins to part, 
 the sharp edge of the rock is cutting it ; it is the anath- 
 
 13
 
 1 94 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 ema of Alberich, the spoiler of the Rhine-gold, which is 
 bearing its fatal fruit; at last the cable breaks in the 
 middle and with it departs the prophetic power of the 
 three sisters, who rise in terror ; they precipitately gather 
 up the ends, and tying themselves together, they sink 
 into the depths of the earth to seek Erda, their eternal 
 mother. 
 
 Day has been slowly breaking; it now shines in all 
 its brilliance, and Siegfried is seen approaching, armed as 
 a warrior, with Briinnhilde accompanying him, holding 
 her noble horse, Granc, by the bridle. 
 
 The lovers, who have already tasted many days of 
 radiant happiness, exchange oaths of fidelity. Briinn- 
 hilde has instructed her husband in the sacred runes 
 which the gods have taught her; she has given him all 
 her knowledge, asking nothing in return but his con- 
 stancy and love; she is encouraging him to new ex- 
 ploits. Siegfried, who is about to depart, after having 
 given her renewed assurances of his love, presents her, 
 as a gage of his fidelity, with the Ring, taken from 
 Fafher, which is only valuable as a visible sign of the 
 virtues which he had to display in order to conquer it. 
 
 Briinnhilde is delighted, and gives him in exchange 
 Granc, the noble companion, which of old bore her so 
 often on lur warlike exploits. In the midst of the com- 
 bat, may the superb charger recall Briinnhilde to her 
 husband's memory. 
 
 They separate after a last embrace ; Siegfried goes 
 down the mountain, leading his steed ; Briinnhilde long 
 and lovingly gazes after him, and in the distance is 
 heard the joyous echo of the hero's horn.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 195 
 
 Act I. 
 
 Scene I. — The scenery shows the palace of the 
 Gibichungs on the banks of the Rhine. The great hall, 
 with large openings at the back, is on the level of the 
 river-bank ; the whole width of the river is visible. On 
 the right, half-way up the stage is a table with chairs 
 around it. To the left and right are entrances into 
 private apartments. 
 
 Gunther and his sister Gutrune, of the family of the 
 Gibichungs, are talking with Hagen, the son of their 
 mother, Grimhilde, and are extolling the wisdom of this 
 brother,~wTiohasaTways given them good counsel. 
 
 Hagen — who has inherited and carries on the dark 
 schemes of his father Alberich (who still cherishes the 
 idea of reo-aiiiing the Ring; which Wotan wrested from 
 him) — informed of Siegfried's valiant exploits and his 
 love for the Walkyrie, but carefully concealing this 
 knowledge, counsels his brother and sister, who are 
 ignorant of these facts, to strengthen their dynasty by 
 powerful alliances : for Gunther he desires Brunnhilde, 
 the virgin who is sleeping on an inaccessible rock, pro- 
 tected by a sea of flames ; it is not reserved for Gunther 
 to overcome this terrible obstacle : the only one who can 
 accomplish the heroic act, is Siegfried, the last scion of 
 the Walsungs, who conquered Fafner and took posses- 
 sion of the treasure of the Nibelungs. 
 
 He it is whom Hagen has selected for the daughter of 
 the Gibichungs. He will readily yield to Gunther the 
 fruits of his victory if his heart is enslaved by the charms 
 of Gutrune, and in this she can aid by making the hero 
 drink a certain enchanted potion, which will render his 
 mind oblivious of his past oaths and make him the slave 
 of her who shall administer the philtre.
 
 , 9 6 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 The brother and sister enthusiastically adopt Hagen's 
 plan, and, tor the fulfilment of their wishes, impatiently 
 await him whose wanderings may at any moment lead 
 him into their vicinity. 
 
 ^ i N |. II. — The sound of the horn is heard in the 
 direction of the Rhine at that very moment, announcing 
 Siegfried's arrival. Hagen perceives the young warrior 
 skilfully propelling a boat containing himself and Grane. 
 Gunther goes down to the bank to receive him, and 
 Gutrune, after having contemplated the hero from afar, 
 retires to her own apartments in evident agitation. 
 
 fried lands with his horse and asks the two men 
 which is Gunther, whose fame has reached him, and to 
 whom he wishes to offer the choice of combat or his 
 friendship. Gunther tells his name and answers his 
 guest with oaths of alliance and fidclitv. Hagen, who 
 Ikis taken charge of Grane and led him away by the 
 bridle, returns and questions him about the riches of 
 the Nibelungs, which he knows he possesses; but the 
 hero, despising the^e useless treasures, has left them in 
 the dragon's den ; he has brought away nothing but this 
 helmet suspended to his belt, the magic power of which 
 Hagen Lells him without making much impression on 
 him. He possesses one other object which belonged to 
 the conquered treasure, — a Ring, which he has given to 
 a noble woman, as a gage of his fealty. Hagen then 
 calls Gutrune, who enters, bringing a cup which she 
 offers Siegfried in sign of welcome. 
 
 latter bows to her and at the moment of empty- 
 tin- cup is absorbed in tender and touching memories 
 Brunnhilde, vowing, from the bottom of his heart, 
 their true and burning love. 
 
 II drinks, and returns the horn to the confused and 
 tated Gutrune; but, under the charm of the philtre,
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 197 
 
 passion suddenly kindles in his eyes as he looks at the 
 maiden ; he tells her of the feeling which has just taken 
 complete possession of him, and immediately asks Gun- 
 ther to give him his sister. Gutrune, remorseful at thus 
 taking the hero's affection by force, makes a sign that 
 she is unworthy of him, and leaves the hall with totter- 
 ing steps. Siegfried watches her departure with a fasci- 
 nated gaze, and then asks his friend about himself. Has 
 he already selected a wife ? 
 
 Gunther replies by telling him of the difficulty he 
 would have in winning her whom he loves, Briinnhilde, 
 who is imprisoned with flames on a solitary rock. Sieg- 
 fried, at the sound of this name so dearly loved, is now 
 only struck with a vague reminiscence, which is imme- 
 diately effaced ; the philtre continues to do its work ; he 
 undertakes this conquest for Gunther, on the sole condi- 
 tion that he shall receive Gutrune as a reward. 
 
 With the help of the Tarnhelm he will take the form 
 of Gunther and will bring back the promised bride. They 
 bind themselves by a solemn oath never to betray their 
 alliance, and cement the pact by drinking in turn out of 
 the same horn, after having first mingled a few drops 
 of blood in the draught. Hagen, who has kept apart 
 and refused to take any part in this fraternal pledge, giv- 
 ing his bastard origin as a pretext, breaks the horn with 
 a stroke of his sword, while Gutrune, disturbed and 
 agitated, comes to aid the departure of the warriors •, he 
 meditates with bitter irony, on the fact that these two 
 gallants, led astray, one by his perfidious counsels, the 
 other by his odious sorcery, are both at work to build 
 up the fortune of the humble son of the Nibelung. 
 
 A superb curtain is drawn across the front of the 
 scene and hides it ; when it rises, the Walkyrie's rock 
 is seen, as in the prologue.
 
 ,98 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 -,,. : HI. — Briinnhilde, silent and pensive, is sitting 
 at the entrance of the grotto, looking at the Ring which 
 Siegfried gave her, and covering it with passionate kisses. 
 She hears in the distance a sound which was formerly 
 familiar, — the gallop of an aerial horse ; she listens, and, 
 in delight, springs to meet Waltraute, her sister, who is 
 coming to seek her in her retreat, and whose troubled 
 expression she does not notice; is her loved companion 
 at last bringing her the pardon from the too severe god ? 
 Wotan must have softened towards the guilty one, since 
 he allowed the devouring fire to protect her in her sleep 
 and permitted happiness to grow out of her very chastise- 
 ment; she now belongs to a hero whose love inflames her 
 with pride and who has made her the happiest of wives. 
 
 Waltraute, who does not share her sister's jov, has 
 come to her full of agony, despite Wotan's prohibition, 
 to entreat her to save Walhalla from the misfortune 
 which threatens it. Since having exiled the child of his 
 heart, the Lord of Battles, in distress and discourage- 
 ment, has not ceased to go about the world as a solitary 
 Wanderer: one day he returned from his idle roam- 
 ings, holding his shattered lance in his hand ; silent and 
 sombre, with a gesture he ordered his heroes to cut 
 down the world-ash, and with it to make a vast pyre 
 ind the abode of the eternals ; then he convoked the 
 Council of the Gods ; and since then, sullen and 
 motionless, he sits enthroned among them and the 
 heroes, sorrowfully contemplating his baffled weapon; 
 vainly his daughters, the warrior-maidens, try to com- 
 fort him ; he remains deaf to their prayers, awaiting his 
 us, which he has sent away, and which, alas ! 
 00 not return to bring him any reassuring; news. 
 
 only, touched by the caresses of his daughter, 
 W altraute, his eyes dimmed at the recollection of Briinn-
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 199 
 
 hilde, and he uttered these words : " If she were to 
 restore the cursed Ring to the Daughters of the Rhine, 
 the gods and the world would be saved." Then Wal- 
 traute furtively left the house of mourning, to come to 
 beg her sister to perform this act of redemption. 
 
 At these words, Briinnhilde rebels. What ! sacrifice 
 Siegfried's Ring, the sacred pledge of their love, more 
 precious to her than the whole race of the gods and the 
 glory of the eternals ? She will never consent to that, 
 though the splendours of Walhalla crumble away this 
 moment ; and she lets her sister depart in despair, bear- 
 ing her immutable decision. 
 
 Waltraute, in utter despair, hastens to her father's 
 palace, accompanied by a storm-cloud flashing with 
 lightning ; night has fallen, and the flame encircling the 
 rock shines with an unusual brilliance. 
 
 The sound of Siegfried's horn is heard in the dis- 
 tance. Briinnhilde, in delight, springs to meet him, but 
 recoils in terror at the appearance of an unknown war- 
 rior; it is her husband, who, still under the influence of 
 the fatal philtre which blinds his soul and by virtue of 
 the power of the helm, presents himself to her under the 
 form of Gunther, in whose name he wants to capture 
 her. The unfortunate woman, overcome with horror, 
 struggles in vain, calling upon Wotan in her distress, 
 believing that she is again sufFcring from his anger. 
 She vainly invokes the power of the Ring ; her strength 
 fails her. Siegfried throws her down, and, snatching 
 away the Ring, he places it on his own finger, declaring 
 her Gunther's bride, and forces her to enter the grotto, 
 into which he follows her; but, faithful to the word 
 which he gave to his ally, he will preserve her untouched 
 for the son of the Gibichung. To this he calls his 
 sword, Nothung, to witness.
 
 20 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Scene I. — A long and beautiful stretch of the 
 Rhine is visible, forming, on the left, a sharp turn, just 
 before the palace of the Gibichungs, which is seen in pro- 
 rile in the extreme right foreground. From the escarped 
 and rock) banks of the river, in the right centre, rises a 
 road, beside which are a row of sacrificial stones, the 
 first two dedicated to Fricka and Donner, and the third, 
 larger than the others, consecrated to Wotan. 
 
 It is dark night. Hagen, armed and sitting motion- 
 less at the door of the palace which he is guarding, seems 
 to be asleep, although his eyes are open. His father, 
 Alberich, sitting in front of him, is prompting his 
 dreams, and, speaking to him in a low voice, excites him 
 to the struggle in which he is engaged to reconquer the 
 Ring from Wotan, the cursed : already the god has met 
 his master among his own blood ; a Walsung has shat- 
 tered his spear, the instrument of his power, and the 
 god, disarmed and brought to naught, sees with anguish 
 the approaching end of himself, and Walhalla. If 
 Hagen is willing to help the elf who was the author of 
 his being, he can gain the sovereignty of the gods for his 
 own advantage. The Ring, which must be gained at 
 all costs, is in Siegfried's possession •, but the hero, not 
 knowing its power, or despising it, by that very fact 
 ipes the imprecation attached to the possession of the 
 talisman ; he must be tricked, then, and it must be done 
 quickly, lest, counselled by the noble woman with whom 
 the magic Ring is deposited, he may have time to restore 
 to the Rhine-Daughters the treasure which they so in- 
 sistently demand, and which, in that case, would be 
 irrevocably lost to the Nibelungs. 
 
 SCENE II. — Hagen, still dreaming, swears to his
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 201 
 
 father that he will succeed in gaining possession of the 
 Ring. Alberich disappears, entreating his son to keep 
 his promise. A thick cloud covers Hagen ; day begins 
 to break in the direction of the Rhine, and the sun 
 rises, being reflected in the river, and shining on the 
 arrival of Siegfried, who, transported by the power of 
 his magic helm, arrives from the rock where he has 
 captured Briinnhilde for Gunther, to announce the good 
 news to the daughter of the Gibichungs. 
 
 Gutrune is delighted, and makes her lover relate his 
 new exploit, joyfully learning that Gunther, having by a 
 cunning subterfuge received his bride from his hands, is 
 on the way with her to the palace of his fathers. 
 
 Scene III. — Preparations must be hastened for the 
 reception of the new couple ; Hagen, from a high point 
 of observation, now calls together his brother's vassals 
 with the sound of a horn ; they run to arms, asking what 
 danger threatens their lord and master ; but Hagen 
 reassures them : they are only called together to wel- 
 come the bride he has gained by Siegfried's aid, and to 
 prepare the sacrifices to the gods who have been pro- 
 pitious to them. Let them immolate a strong bull on 
 Wotan's altar ; a boar for Froh ; a goat for Donner ; 
 and let them consecrate a gentle ewe to Fricka, so that 
 she may grant the bridal pair a happy marriage. 
 
 The vassals, carried away by the gay words of Hagen, 
 who is usually sombre and savage, rejoice, and vow to 
 protect their future mistress. 
 
 Scene IV. — The bark bringing Gunther and Briinn- 
 hilde has landed. The warrior steps out of it with his 
 sad bride, who allows herself to be led with pale face 
 and downcast eyes. He presents her to his vassals, who 
 joyously welcome her, then to Gutrune and her future 
 husband.
 
 202 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 Brunnhilde, at the sight of Siegfried, is dumb with 
 astonishment and stands still, looking fixedly at him; he 
 calmly meets the unfortunate woman's glance in entire 
 unconsciousness of all that is passing in her mind ; she 
 is on the point of fainting, and Siegfried calmly supports 
 her ; she sees the Ring on the perjured man's finger ; 
 then she violently starts away from him and asks how 
 tin- Rinii, which Gunther took away from her and which 
 he said was the pledge of their union, is in the possession 
 of another. The son of the Gibichungs is troubled, and 
 does not know what to reply. Siegfried, lost in reverie 
 at the sight of the Ring, only remembers that he for- 
 merly won it in his fight with the dragon and freely says 
 so. Hagen joins in the discussion, pretends that he 
 suspects the Walsung of treachery, and goads Briinn- 
 hilde to revenge; the latter, wild with grief and revolt, 
 proclaims Siegfried a rogue and a villain ; she accuses 
 the gods of all the evils which are crushing her, and 
 repulses Gunther when he tries to calm her, renouncing 
 him as her husband and pointing to the son of Walse as 
 him to whom she is given body and soul. 
 
 The excitement is at its height; Siegfried is anxious 
 to exculpate himself of such treachery; and all summon 
 him to declare under oath that he has not broken his 
 plighted word and that in Brunnhilde he has respected 
 Gunther* s bride. He solemnly affirms it on the weapon 
 which Hagen presents to him : may he perish by this 
 very weapon if he has forfeited his honour. 
 
 S< ink V. — Brunnhilde strides forward with rage and 
 indignation, and, by the sharp and pointed steel, calls 
 down vengeance on the traitor and perjurer, and as 
 fried departs, careless of her threats and thinking of 
 nothing but his new love, whom he draws with him into 
 the palace, the unfortunate creature, a prey to the most
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 203 
 
 terrible grief, agonizingly asks herself of what cruel sor- 
 cery she has been the victim, — who has brought upon 
 her such misfortune, — and how can she sever her hate- 
 ful bonds, now that she has lost her divine knowledge. 
 Hagen then approaches the poor abandoned woman, and 
 offers her the aid of his arm to avenge her; but at this 
 proposition she gives a bitter laugh ; has not she herself 
 taken care to render the hero invulnerable ? and, more- 
 over, would not his bravery paralyze whosoever would 
 measure himself against him ? Hagen recognizes his 
 inferiority in such a struggle, but may there not be some 
 secret means of vanquishing the guilty one ? 
 
 Briinnhilde then tells him that only one point is vul- 
 nerable ; knowing well that he would never turn his 
 back upon the enemy, she did not include that in her 
 enchantments : if Hagen can strike him between the 
 shoulders, he will be able to give him a mortal wound 
 there. The wretch promises to profit from this pre- 
 cious advice, and imparts his plan to Gunther, who has 
 been standing apart, absorbed in his thoughts and over- 
 whelmed by the accusation of cowardice which his 
 wife has brought against him. Gunther shudders at the 
 thought of betraying him whom he has taken for his 
 brother-in-arms ; but Hagen tries to still his scruples : 
 he reminds him in an undertone what power will result 
 to him from this act, since it will make him master of 
 the Ring. Gunther still hesitates, thinking of Gutrune's 
 grief. That name rouses all Briinnhilde's jealous hatred : 
 that woman, who must have robbed her of her husband 
 by a charm, must be chastised in her love; and Briinn- 
 hilde adds her entreaties to those of Hagen. Siegfried, 
 then, shall die, Gunther acquiesces ; the hunt which 
 will take place to-morrow will furnish a pretext for his 
 death : a boar shall be said to have attacked him.
 
 204 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 While they are weaving this dark plot, Siegfried and 
 Gutrune, accompanied by their nuptial-train, appear with 
 their heads adorned with Mowers and leaves. They invite 
 their brother and sister to imitate them, and while Gun- 
 ther, taking Briinnhilde's hand, follows the joyous party, 
 Hagen, remaining behind, invokes the assistance of his 
 father Alberich, the malevolent elf, and swears to himself 
 that he will soon possess the much-coveted Ring. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 SCENE I. — The stage represents a lovely landscape 
 on the banks of the Rhine; the azure waters, pent 
 between rocky banks, show the Undines sporting in their 
 transparent waves. In the foreground there is a kind of 
 strand; on the right, a path rises among the rocks and 
 leads to the summit of the bank. 
 
 W oglinde, Wcllgundc, and Flosshilde, the three Rhine- 
 Daughters, whilst sporting in the waves, are lamenting 
 the loss of their gold, whose pure brilliance formerly 
 illumined the river-bed, which is now plunged in darkness 
 :ind sadness. If the possessor of the treasure would only 
 consent to restore it to them! 
 
 Just then the distant sound of the horn tells them that 
 the hero is coming their way. Thev are diving down to 
 take counsel together, when Siegfried, fully armed, appears 
 on the bank, having lost his way while following the 
 game. 
 
 The Undines reappear and accost him, offering to help 
 him recover, the bear, which has escaped him, if, in 
 ange, he will give them the golden Ring which is on 
 his finger. 
 
 II< refuses the Nixies' proposal. What! give up a 
 
 treasure which lie gained at the cost of a terrible com- 
 
 •■• i'li the dragon, Fafner? Never! They jeer at
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 205 
 
 him, mocking his avarice and his dread, — he so hand- 
 some and so strong, — of being beaten by his wife if 
 she should notice the absence of the Ring, and they 
 again disappear in the waves. Siegfried, disturbed by 
 their raillery, almost decides to offer them the treasure 
 by which he sets such little store ; he calls them back ; 
 but the three sisters, who have concerted together, are 
 now grave and earnest, and counsel him to keep the 
 Ring till he understands the malediction which is asso- 
 ciated with it ; then he will joyfully yield it to them. 
 They know many fatal things concerning Siegfried's 
 life — his cursed Ring, made out of the Rhine-gold, by 
 virtue of the anathema of him who forged it devotes to 
 misfortune whosoever shall become its possessor. , He 
 shall perish, even as Fafner perished, unless he returns 
 it to the depths of the river ; its waves alone will have 
 power to annul the malediction, that malediction which 
 the Norns have woven into the cord of destiny. Sieg- 
 fried will not allow himself to be moved by what he con- 
 siders vain threats ; he does not give any credence to the 
 story of the nymphs, and he will brave the alarming 
 prophecies of the Norns, whose cord, if the occasion 
 arises, Nothung will be able to sever. They say this 
 Ring assures him the empire of the world : well, he will 
 willingly give it to the graceful Nixies, if they, in ex- 
 change, will give him love and all its sweet ecstasies, — 
 for life without love, he values it no more than this 
 (saying these words, he takes up a clod of earth and 
 casts it far from him) ; but threats will never induce 
 him to yield, for fear is unknown to him. 
 
 The Undines, finding him deaf to their exhortations, 
 give up the attempt to convince a madman who had not 
 the sense to retain and appreciate the most precious bless- 
 ing that ever fell to his lot, the love of the Walkyrie, and is
 
 206 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 even ignorant that he has trifled away his happiness, 
 whilst he is set upon keeping the talisman which dooms 
 him to death. But, happily for them, this very day his 
 heritage will pass into the hands of a noble woman, who, 
 unlike him, will listen to their prayers and do what is 
 right. They will hasten to meet her. Siegfried follows 
 them with smiling eyes, admiring their graceful move- 
 ments. 
 
 S< ink II. — Hunting horns are heard in the distance, 
 gradually coming nearer; the young hunter joyously 
 answers on his silver horn. Gunther and Hagen descend 
 the bank with their suite. The menials prepare the meal, 
 while the huntsmen stretch themselves on the earth and 
 begin to talk and drink. Siegfried, confessing that his 
 chase has come to nothing, carelesslv relates his meeting 
 with the sisters, who have predicted his death for that very 
 day. Gunther is uneasy, and furtively looks at Hagen, 
 who asks Siegfried to tell them of the time when it is 
 said he was able to talk with the birds. But the hero 
 has long ceased to understand their warblings, to which 
 he now prefers a woman's sweet words. Gunther joins 
 Hagen in insisting on hearing about that adventure. 
 tried then tells of his childhood in the forest with 
 Mime, the cunning gnome, whose dark schemes he 
 Named, his combat with Fafner by the aid of Nothung, 
 his valiant sword, the conquest of the treasure, and the 
 wise counsel of the wondrous bird. When the hero has 
 arrived at this point of his story, Hagen secretly mingles 
 with his drink a philtre, which reawakens his sleeping 
 memories; Siegfried, now in full possession of all his 
 ilties, to the profound astonishment of Gunther, who 
 listens with an ever-increasing emotion, relates his victo- 
 i ions que3t to deliver BrQnnhilde, and the delightful 
 reward which awaited him as the price of his valour.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 207 
 
 Gunther, in amazement, seems as if he begins to under- 
 stand. At this moment, two ravens, issuing from a 
 neighbouring: prove, come and wheel above the head of 
 Siegfried, who turns to look at them ; Hagen profits by 
 this moment to spring upon him whom in his hatred he 
 has trapped in such a cowardly manner, and plunges his 
 spear between his shoulders. Gunther springs up in 
 horror to ward off the murderer's arm, but alas ! too 
 late. Siegfried raises his shield to crush the traitor, but 
 his strength fails, and he falls to the earth, whilst his 
 cowardly assassin tranquilly moves away and gains the 
 top of the bank. Before expiring, Siegfried is still able 
 to send a last farewell to the beloved one whom he is 
 still unconscious of having betrayed, and the radiant 
 memory of whom softens his last sufferings. Her be- 
 loved image comes to enrapture his dying moments. 
 
 The vassals place the hero's body on a litter of boughs. 
 The funeral procession is formed. Gunther first fol- 
 lows the corpse, giving every sign of the deepest grief. 
 The moonbeams light up the mournful march, and mists 
 rise from the face of the Rhine and envelop the whole 
 scene. When they are finally dissipated, the stage shows 
 again the great hall in the palace of the Gibichungs, this 
 time in darkness. Onlv the river in the background is 
 illuminated by the brilliant moonlight. 
 
 Scene III. — Gutrune comes out of the silent and 
 sleeping palace, anxiously awaiting the return of her hus- 
 band and her brother; she is troubled with dark presenti- 
 ments. Briinnhilde's wild and sinister laugh has inter- 
 rupted her sleep. Was it she whom she saw in the 
 distance going towards the river ? She finds, indeed, 
 that Briinnhilde bus left her apartments and she is on the 
 point of re-entering her own room when she hears 
 Hagen's voice, which turns her cold with fear. The
 
 2 o8 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 huntsmen have returned : why, then, does she not hear 
 the ringing sound of Siegfried's horn ? She asks Hagen, 
 who at first tells her that her husband is returning and 
 she must prepare to greet him, and then brutally informs 
 her that the hero will never again joyously wind his 
 horn, for he has met his death in a struggle with a furious 
 wild-boar. 
 
 The funeral procession arrives at that moment and 
 the whole crowd of servants press in, bearing lights and 
 torches. The huntsmen, with Gunther in their midst, 
 set the corpse down in the centre of the hall. There is 
 general consternation. The unhappy Gutrune falls 
 fainting at the sight of the lifeless body of him she loved. 
 Gunther tries to raise her; but, recovering herself, she 
 repulses her brother with horror, accusing him of having 
 a>>assinated her husband. Gunther exculpates himself, 
 and then reveals Hagen's crime, cursing him and calling 
 down misery and agony upon his head. The traitor 
 impudently comes forward and proclaims aloud his odious 
 act ; he demands as a right of spoil the Ring which glit- 
 ters on the hero's finger. Gunther forbids him to touch 
 Gutrune's heritage. Hagen threatens him; they both 
 thaw, and Gunther, pierced by his brother's sword, falls 
 dead ai his feet. The assassin then wishes to seize the 
 Ring, ami throws himself upon Siegfried's body to take 
 it ; but the hand of the corpse litts itself in a threatening 
 manner, clutching the Ring in its fingers. There is gen- 
 eral horror. Gutrune and her women utter piercing 
 shrieks. 
 
 Brunnhilde, then appearing at the back of the stage, 
 
 advances calmly ami solemnly, commanding the noise to 
 
 She, the woman abandoned and betrayed by all, 
 
 comes to avenge the hero, whose death will never be 
 
 deplored as it deserves.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 209 
 
 Gutrune breaks out'in reproaches, accusing her of hav- 
 ing drawn all these misfortunes upon their house ; but 
 Briinnhilde, with noble dignity, imposes silence upon her, 
 reminding her that she (Briinnhilde) is the lawful wife, 
 whom alone Siegfried has ever loved and to whom he 
 had sworn eternal fidelity. Gutrune then, in an agony 
 of despair, understands what an odious part Hagen has 
 made her play in counselling her to make use of the 
 cursed philtre, and, calling down curses upon the villain, 
 she falls on Gunther's body, utterly overwhelmed with 
 grief. Hagen, with a glance of defiance, stands apart in 
 sombre reflection. 
 
 Briinnhilde, after having gazed long and sadlvon Sieg- 
 fried's face, solemnly orders the servants to build on the 
 river bank a pyre to receive the hero's corpse ; then she 
 sends for Grane, her faithful and noble steed, which she 
 wishes to share in the sacred honours which are reserved 
 for valorous warriors. 
 
 While the vassals are piling up the wood, which the 
 women dress with tapestries and flowers, Briinnhilde 
 again sinks into contemplation of her beloved, the purest 
 of the pure, the loyalest heart of all, who, however, be- 
 trayed and abandoned her, the only woman he loved. 
 How came that to be ? O Wotan, inexorable god, who 
 to repair his own sin did not fear to devote his daughter 
 to this extreme distress by thus sacrificing him whom she 
 loved ! How grievously she had learnt, by the excess of 
 her misfortunes, what it was necessary for her to know ! 
 Now she sees, she knows, she understands everything, 
 but at the cost of what suffering ! 
 
 She sees sailing above her the two black messengers 
 of the P'ather of Battles : let them return to Walhalla 
 and announce that now everything is accomplished and 
 consummated, and that the divine race will soon have 
 
 u
 
 210 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 d to exist. Slumber, slumber, O race of the 
 
 gods ! 
 
 Slu- makes a sign to the vassals to place on the pyre 
 the both iif Siegfried, Hist taking off the Ring, and put- 
 ting it on her ringer. This fatal Ring, of which she 
 again takes possession, she bequeaths to the Daughters 
 of the Rhine ; let them come and look for it presently 
 among her ashes, when fire shall have purified it from 
 the- malediction which has weighed so heavily upon all 
 who have owned it. She approaches the pyre where the 
 body of the hero is already resting, and, brandishing a 
 torch, she again tells the ravens to go and tell Wotan 
 what has happened here ; then to fly to the rock where 
 she slept, and order Loge, who is still there, to betake 
 himself to Walhalla and to wrap the royal abode of the 
 gods in flames, — for the eternal twilight is beginning for 
 them, and the fire, which is soon going to consume her- 
 self, will extend as far as the inaccessible retreat of the 
 Master of the World. 
 
 She flings the brand upon the pyre, which immediately 
 ignites. Then, turning for the last time to the assembled 
 people, she bequeaths to them the treasure of her divine 
 knowledge: the race of the gods is extinct; the universe 
 is without a master ; but there still remains to it a boon 
 which is more precious than all, and which it must learn 
 to cherish, more than gold, more than glory and great- 
 ness: this is Love, which alone can issue victorious 
 from all trials and give perfect happiness. 
 
 Brunnhilde receives her horse, Grane, from two 
 youths; slu- strips off all his harness, unbridles him, and 
 shows him the pyre on which his master reposes. Then, 
 quicld) mounting the noble animal, she springs with 
 him into the flames, which leap up, crackling and filling 
 the whole stage. The people disperse in terror, and
 
 w> 
 
 PARSIFAL 
 
 Gurnemanz (bass). Old Knight of the Grail, having sen 
 the reign of Titurel and Amfortas. 
 
 id Knight (bass). \ 
 
 ,d E^. (coot,. T "' """* "" ^™ «' ^ 
 
 I guardians and servants u( the sacred I 
 
 ,it Esquire (sopr ) ( lhe hD,y vcssd conIi >" :i ' n S lhc bIoi > 
 
 \ Saviour. 
 .» Knight lienor). / 
 
 Kundry (sopr.). A double character: sometime* servai 
 
 Amfortas tU.iryt.). Priest-King of the Grail, ion of the old 
 
 jd Esquire (tenor). Servant of the Grail. 
 4 th Esquire (tenor). Servant or the Grail. 
 Parsifal (tenor). Son of Gamuret and Heneleidc; beeomi 
 
 The Brotherhood of the Kllighta of the Grail I CAonu ; tei 
 Youths (Gfmti : conl., ten.). Hair-way up the dome. 
 Young Boy a (CAerus: sopr,, eontr.). At the top of the d 
 Voice of Titurel (bass). Dying knight, into whose care 
 
 Klingsor (bass). Wicked Knight, who, not being allowed to becom 
 Flower-Maidens (Ckorui: sopr., coot.). Fantastic and sedut 
 
 1 bv r 
 
 Dells to ruin the Knights of the
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 211 
 
 then the pyre sinks down, casting up a dense column 
 of smoke. Soon the clouds are dissipated, and the 
 waters of the Rhine are seen to be overflowing their 
 banks and rising to the threshold of the palace, bringing 
 the three Undines in their waves. 
 
 Hagen, who has 'watched all the foregoing scene 
 with anxiety and dread, now casts himself, with a last 
 great cry of covetousness, into the midst of the waters 
 to seek the Ring ; but he is seized and dragged down 
 into the depths by Wellgunde and Woglinde, while 
 Flosshilde appears on the crest of the waves, exultantly 
 holding up the Ring, which is regained at last ! 
 
 The distant sky is in flames : the conflagration en- 
 folds the whole horizon, and the vassals, silent with 
 awe, watch the sinister and impressive spectacle of the 
 annihilation of the palace of the gods as it is engulfed 
 in the stupendous horror of an ocean of fire. 
 
 With this impressive cataclysm the fourth and last 
 day of Der Ring des Nibelnngen comes to an end. 
 
 PARSIFAL. 
 
 On Montsalvat, a remote peak in the Pyrenees, 
 stands a castle, built by Titurel as a sanctuary inviolable 
 and inaccessible to the profane, where the sacred cup out 
 of which Christ drank at his last meal with his disciples 
 may be preserved. This sacred cup, the Grail, con- 
 taining the blood which flowed from the divine wounds 
 of the Saviour on the cross, as well as the Lance which 
 caused those wounds, has been confided by celestial 
 messengers to the pure knight in days of Infidel warfare 
 when the enemies of the faith threatened to profane 
 these precious relics. 
 
 Titurel, after having built this magnificent sanctuary
 
 212 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 
 for these treasures, has gathered around him for their 
 protection a body of knights whose pure hearts have 
 rendered them worthy of this high mission. The Grail 
 rewards these noble servants for their pious fidelity by 
 imparting to them a power and miraculous valour which 
 enable them to undertake, for the upholding of the faith, 
 labours from which thev could not issue victorious with- 
 out divine help-, and every year a dove, descending from 
 the celestial regions, comes to renew the powers of the 
 Holv Grail and its Knights. 
 
 An inhabitant of the country near Montsalvat, 
 Klingsor, wishing, for the remission of his sins, to be 
 enrolled in the pious order, has vainly sought to root 
 out of his heart the tendencies to sin ; and, not suc- 
 ceeding, he has destro yed his animal instincts by lay ing 
 v iolent hands on hi mself; his unworthy action having 
 closed the doors of the sacred castle against him forever, 
 he has listened to the Evil Spirit, and received from him 
 unhallowed instructions in the art of magic. Being 
 then full of hatred against those who have rejected him 
 as a brother, he has used bis fatal power in transforming 
 the arid land into a garden of delights, where grow, half 
 
 5, half women, fantastic beings of irresistible 
 beauty, who exert their seductive charms to bring about 
 the ruin of such of the Knights of the Grail as are weak 
 
 h to fall into their snares. 
 
 Man) had alread) been led astray when Amfortas, to 
 
 whom his father, the venerable Titurel, bowed down 
 
 with years, had yielded the crown, wished to put an end 
 
 t<> these tatal enchantments, ami came himself, seconded 
 
 divine aid, to this haunt of guilty pleasure; but, 
 
 he was no stronger than those who had preceded 
 
 imbed, as thej had. What a climax of 
 
 lhame and defeat ! His enemy gained possession of the
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 21? 
 
 sacred Lance, the precious relic confided to his care, t 
 and, turning it against its very defender, gave Amfortas ) .1 
 a deep wound in his side , which no remedy can ever r ^ q/* 
 heaT- ^ »•* 
 
 The unfortunate king, however, returned to Mont- y^ 
 salvat, bearing with him the sully of his sin mingled 
 with eternal remorse, which is even more agonizing than 
 the incurable wound which bleeds in his side. 
 
 From this time, the august brotherhood of knights is 
 plunged into shame and sadness, each one of them shar- 
 ing in the humiliation and grief of the fallen king. The 
 latter, vainly seeking a remedy for his physical and 
 moral sufferings , feels them more intensely every time 
 he is forced as priest-king to celebrate the holy mys- 
 teries, and he shrinks with terror from performing them 
 every time they recur. It is in vain that he demands 
 from the sacred lake, which the forest shelters, the benefi- 
 cent alleviation of its fresh waters ; in vain do his 
 knights bring him precious balms from the most distant 
 lands. 
 
 One day, when prostrate before the tabernacle, he 
 was imploring the Saviour's pity, he heard a celestial 
 voice prophesying the healing of his wound and the 
 redemption of his sins by a being full of purity and pity, 
 a Guileless Fool, who should come to restore t he Grail 
 to its immaculate condition, and, having regained the 
 p_r ofanated lance from the criminal hands of Klingsor, 
 should bring it to the sanctuary, where one touch of it 
 should heal the wound which it formerly inflicted on 
 the prince who was forgetful of his mission. 
 
 This Guileless Fool, the hero, full of compassion for 
 the sorrows of others, will be Parsifal, the predestined 
 being whom the designs of Providence will bring by 
 mysterious ways to Montsalvat, by starting him in pur-
 
 2i 4 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 suit of a sacred swan; having been present at the holy 
 sacrifice, and having witnessed the physical and moral 
 distress of Amfortas, he will feel his heart illumined with 
 celestial light, will understand the high and regenerative 
 task reserved for him, and will conceive such a holy 
 horror of sin as will preserve him from the infernal 
 snares which will be set for him also by Klingsor, aided 
 h\ his faithful follower and slave, Kundry, whom he 
 has made the servile agent of his criminal wnshes. 
 
 This strange figure of Kundry, entirely a being or 
 Wagner's own creation, appears in turn as the devotedly 
 attached servant of the Grail when she is left to her 
 own nature, and as their bitter enemy, the instrument 
 of their undoing, when dominated in spite of herself by 
 the magic ascendency of Klingsor, she transforms her- 
 self into a woman of " terrible beauty " and becomes 
 the most irresistible means of seduction in the enchanted 
 gardens. The pious knights are ignorant of this double 
 nature and regard her only as a strange invalid and un- 
 tamable being, whose frequent and long absences, which 
 are preceded by a deep sleep, always correspond with a 
 fresh misfortune which overtakes them; but it is she 
 who has seduced and ruined Amfortas, and it is on her 
 that the sorcerer relies to undermine the virtue of the 
 Guileless Fool. The unfortunate woman revolts against 
 these terrible missions ; and therefore she is melancholy 
 and in anguish every time she feels weighing upon her 
 ids the heavy hypnotic sleep into which Klingsor 
 plunges her when he wants to subject her to his hated 
 power. She thus expiates the crime of a former exis- 
 tence, when, as Herodias, she followed Christ on his 
 otha with devilish and cruel laughter. This 
 LUghter is again one of her characteristics in her 
 new incarnation when under the evil spell of the enchanter:
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 215 
 
 then, becoming his worthy servant, she equals him in 
 wickedness. But when free from the sorcery, she as- 
 pires, as far as her savage and ignorant nature will allow, 
 to goodness and to atone for the sins of the enchantress, 
 of which she preserves a vague, half-conscious memory. 
 This is why she so ardently seeks the balms which may 
 heal Amfortas's wound, whic h she helped to inflict, de- 
 siring no thanks as a reward for her trouble, and it is 
 also this aspiration for repentance and redemption, which 
 finally, by the help of the divine grace triumphing over 
 Klingsor's black magic and sorceries, will permit her 
 regeneration in the holy water of baptism, poured on 
 her head by Parsifal, who, by the accomplishment of 
 his sacred mission, will have become priest and prince of 
 the Grail in place of Amfortas. 
 
 These preliminary explanations are absolutely neces- 
 sary for the comprehension of the brief analysis which 
 follows. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 First Tableau. — The first scene takes place in a 
 glade in the forest which surrounds the castle of Mont- 
 salvat. On the left, a road rises towards the castle on 
 the height. At the back, on the right, the road suddenly 
 dips to a lake, which is felt, rather than seen, in the 
 background. 
 
 Day is just breaking. Gurnemanz, one of the oldest 
 Knights of the Grail, and two young squires are sleeping 
 under a tree. At the sound of trumpets, which are 
 heard in the direction of the castle giving forth their 
 solemn notes, Gurnemanz awakes and invites the youths, 
 whom he awakes in turn, to join him in the morning 
 prayer. They all three kneel down ; then, when they 
 have concluded their devotions, Gurnemanz orders his 
 companions to occupy themselves with the bath in which
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 Am fort as is about to seek some alleviation of his suffer- 
 ing. He asks two knights who are approaching, coming 
 down from the castle, how the prince is, and if the new 
 remedy which has been applied to his wound has afforded 
 him any relief. Upon their reply in the negative, the 
 old knight, discouraged but not surprised, sadly lets his 
 head sink in his breast. At this moment, one of the 
 young squires signals the approach of a new character, 
 whom he, as well as his companions, designate with 
 such names as Devil's Mare and Wild Amazon, and 
 there appears a woman of strange physiognomy, with 
 swarthy complexion, piercing eyes, and a savage glance, 
 wearing long, floating, black tresses, and clothed in 
 Grange garb ; it is Kundrv. She comes in hastily, look- 
 ing exhausted by a long journev, and hands to Gurne- 
 manz a crystal phial containing a balm which she has 
 been to seek in the most remote regions of Arabia, to 
 alleviate the pain of the unfortunate Amfortas ; then, 
 giving way to fatigue, she lies down on the ground to 
 rest while the arrival of the train of knights and squires 
 accompanying the king's litter calls away the attention 
 of those present from her. 
 
 The unfortunate prince, ceaselessly tortured bv his 
 sufferings, implores Heaven for death or for the coming 
 of the Fool, full of compassion, who is to bring his 
 martvrdom to an end ; he, however, accepts from 
 Gurnemanz's hands the balm which Kundry has brought, 
 and • i hank the strange creature for it ; but the 
 
 latter, in agitation and distress, takes little notice of the 
 king's gratitude. Amfortas orders his attendants to carry 
 his litter to the sacred lake, and the train departs, while 
 the worthv knight sadly gazes after it. 
 
 squires then attack Kundry with malicious 
 , calling her a sorceress, and reproaching her
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 217 
 
 with supplying the king with hurtful drugs; but Gurne- 
 manz defends her and reminds them of what devotion, 
 on the contrary, she gives proof every time she has a 
 chance to render any service to the Knights of the Grail, 
 and in going, with lightning speed, to carry messages to 
 those whose duties keep them in distant countries. 
 
 For many years she has been known at Montsalvat, for 
 when Titurel consecrated the castle, he found her asleep 
 in the forest. There she is always discovered after her 
 long unexplained absences, which, however, fatally coin- 
 cide with every fresh misfortune which falls upon the ser- 
 vants of the Grail. During the last one of these absences 
 occurred the unlucky combat which was so fatal to 
 Amfortas. Where was she wandering; at that time, and 
 why did not she, who was usually so devoted, come to the 
 aid of the unfortunate prince ? Kundry remains silent 
 at this question, and Gurnemanz, again occupied with 
 his sorrowful thoughts, describes all the details of the 
 humiliating defeat to his youthful companions. 
 
 His hearers next ask him to tell them about the origin 
 of the Grail : he narrates it at great length, in the course 
 of which Kundry, still lying on the ground, manifests 
 violent agitation, and he ends by telling them of the 
 consolatory promise which came from on high and alone 
 sustains the courage of the greatly-tried prince. 
 
 Scarcely has he finished his story, when cries are heard 
 in the direction of the lake : they come from some 
 knights who have seen a wild swan, a visitant respected 
 in the district and loved by the king, which has just 
 been wounded by an unknown hand. The bird, beat- 
 ing its wings, falls expiring on the ground while some 
 squires, having discovered the murderer, bring him to 
 Gurnemanz, who questions him concerning his wanton 
 cruelty and sorrowfully reproaches him with it.
 
 \J 
 
 
 
 218 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 The criminal, Parsifal, is a youth who seems totally 
 unconscious of the act he has just committed. He can- 
 not tell his own name, nor in what country he was horn ; 
 he remembers only that his mother was named Herze- 
 leide (Broken Heart), and that he lived with her in the 
 forests and barren plains. These particulars, which he 
 so imperfectly gives, are supplemented by Kundry, 
 who has been attentively observing the young innocent: 
 he was born after the death of his father, Gamuret, who 
 was slain in a combat ; and his mother, hoping to shield 
 him from the same fate, has brought him up far from 
 human beings and their broils. Parsifal then remembers 
 that one dav, having seen brilliantly armed men mounted 
 on noble animals pass by, he vainly sought to join them, 
 and then, that in his pursuit, having lost his way, he 
 was forced to defend himself against wild animals and 
 savage men ; but in his innocence he had no knowledge 
 of their evil intentions with regard to him. Kundry 
 then tells him that in one of her chance wanderings she 
 met Herzeleide succumbing to the grief which the 
 disappearance of her son caused her, and that she saw 
 her die. Parsifal, losing all control of himself at this 
 new-,, springs upon Kundry and would strangle her but 
 t<>r the intervention of Gurnemanz, who releases the 
 unfortunate woman. The half-witted youth then seems 
 to regret his violence; he trembles all over and is about 
 to tall into a tit, but Kundry has already hastened to- a 
 neighbouring spring, and, bringing fresh water in a horn, 
 she tends and revives him. 
 
 nemanz praises this charitable and forgiving act; 
 but the strange creature sadly repulses his approbation ; she 
 only asks to be allowed to rest from the great weariness 
 which sin- feels coming over her, and while the worthy 
 knight is busy with the youth, she drags herself towards a 

 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 219 
 
 neighbouring thicket to seek sleep there. Suddenly the 
 idea of this irresistible, agonizing sleep which always 
 precedes the odious enchantment, revolts her ; she 
 struggles and tries to cast off its influence : but the 
 mysterious power prevails over her resistance, and she 
 falls inanimate behind the bushes, where she remains inert 
 and invisible. 
 
 In the meantime, towards the lake, the knights and 
 squires are seen accompanying Amfortas on his return to 
 the castle after his bath. Gurnemanz, supporting Par- 
 sifal's still tottering steps, prepares to lead him to the 
 sacred castle, where he will have him present at the 
 mystic repast of the servants of the Grail. Who knows 
 if this innocent, providentially guided along the inacces- 
 sible roads of Montsalvat, may not be that Guileless 
 Fool, the elect, destined for the rehabilitation of the 
 Grail ? 
 
 The knight and Parsifal apparently walk on, but, in 
 reality, the scenery behind them moves; and, after a 
 long passage among the rocks, they pass through a door 
 leading to vast subterranean galleries, which they seem 
 to traverse, continually ascending. 
 
 Second Tableau. — The sound of bells and trum- 
 pets is heard constantly growing nearer ; at last they 
 find themselves in an immense hall surmounted by a 
 luminous dome. The sound of the bells seems to come 
 from the top of this dome. Parsifal appears to be fasci- 
 nated by the grandeur of the sight which meets his eyes, 
 and Gurnemanz attentively watches him, to gather from 
 his manner the first signs of the desired revelation. 
 
 To right and left, at the back of the hall, two doors 
 open, admitting two long files of knights who gravely 
 and deliberately enter and range themselves around 
 tables on which cups are set. They are preparing to
 
 220 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 A 
 
 celebrate the spiritual love-feast as it was instituted by 
 the Saviour. 
 
 After them comes the train of the king, lying on his 
 litter and surrounded by ministering brothers and squires. 
 Two pages, who precede him, carry, carefully veiled, a 
 >hrine which they set down on a raised altar near which 
 is placed as a throne the couch on which Amfortas is 
 lying. Behind this couch and on a lower level is a 
 dark chapel, whence issues the grave voice of Titurel, 
 telling the unfortunate prince to celebrate the sacred mys- 
 teries without delay. Amfortas, who knows what suf- 
 ferings an' inseparable from the sacred act for him, 
 wishes to put it off; he begs his fatKertoofficiate in his 
 place ; but the old man, in whom there is scarcely a 
 spark of life left, refuses, and summons his son to fulfil 
 his duty without delay. Amfortas, in extreme agony, 
 invokes the pit \ of all present, supplicates the Creator to 
 put an end to his physical pain and his moral sufferings, 
 which are a thousand times more intense; he undergoes 
 all the tortures that the Saviour endured on the cross; 
 like him, he sees all his blood welling from the wound 
 which nothing can stanch, and his heart is corroded with 
 shame and remorse on seeing himself — he who is so un- 
 worthy—inflexibly appointed to accomplish the divine 
 sacrifice. 
 
 But he supplicates in vain : Titurel's voice is again 
 beard, ordering the Grail to be uncovered. The pages 
 unveil the shrine and take out the chalice, placing it be- 
 fore the officiating prince. Amfortas, bowing before the 
 holy eup, !•, lost in ardent prayer; he celebrates the 
 I barist, the mystic Supper of Montsalvat; the hall is 
 filled with a thick cloud, and a ray of celestial light, fall- 
 m the dome, casts a glowing and purple light 
 aiound the sacred chalice. Amfortas then, transfigured
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 221 
 
 by faith, elevates the Grail before all present, who arc- 
 piously kneeling. Slowly the shadows vanish, the bril- 
 liancy of the chalice pales, and when the king has placed 
 it upon the table, and the daylight has returned little by 
 little, all the cups are seen full of wine, and a piece of 
 bread is at the side of each. The knights take their 
 places around the table, while youthful voices are heard 
 extolling the praises of the Most High in a song of 
 thanksgiving. 
 
 Gurnemanz invites Parsifal to sit beside him; but the 
 latter, absorbed in ecstasy, does not understand his in- 
 vitation ; since his arrival he has been standing motion- 
 less with his back to the spectators as though stupefied. 
 
 The knights, after having communicated in both kinds, 
 give each other the fraternal embrace. Meanwhile, 
 Amfortas, who has somewhat recovered from his state 
 of ecstasy, shows by his actions the pain he is again 
 suffering from the wound from which the blood is gush- 
 ing. All throng round him, his squires replace him on 
 his litter and the train is formed again, in the same order 
 as it arrived, around the king and the precious shrine. 
 Day is gradually fading, and the bells are again heard. 
 
 Parsifal, who, although motionless, during the service 
 had seemed to be himself experiencing the terrible suf- 
 ferings of Amfortas, — like him, holding his hands to his 
 side in agony, — is still in that species of dream which 
 separates him from the rest of the world. Gurnemanz, 
 taking no notice of what is passing in the youth's mind, 
 and disappointed in his attempt, takes him brusquely by 
 the arm and turns him out of the place, banishing him 
 with harsh words from the sacred dwelling, where he 
 thinks him unworthy to remain.
 
 222 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 Act II. 
 
 First Tableau. — The stage represents the retreat 
 of the magician Klingsor, situated in a roofless tower. 
 Steps descend into the depths of the tower, and numer- 
 ous instruments, used in the cabalistic art, magic mirrors, 
 etc., are scattered about the hall, which is plunged ii* 
 almost total darkness. 
 
 15\ means of his sorceries, Klingsor is drawing Parsifal 
 in his direction, after Gurnemanz, who is imprudent and 
 ignorant of what is passing in that simple soul, has cast 
 him out of Montsalvat. The more clear-sighted magi- 
 cian, recognizing in the pure youth the elect who is to 
 save and regenerate the Grail, is going to try to ruin 
 him as he did Amfortas, and for this purpose he calls to 
 his aid Kundry, whose renewed servitude he has prepared 
 by casting her into her heavy magnetic sleep. 
 
 He sets himself to his incantations and burns herbs, 
 whose thick smoke fills the stage. From these violet 
 < and baleful fumes emerges confusedly at the back of the 
 
 hall the vague and apparently fluidic form of Kundry. 
 Awaking from her lethargy, she answers him who ha? 
 «r\ her in his spells with a cry of agony which ends in 2 
 long moaning. He begins to mock her for her attach- 
 ment to the Knights of the Grail, to whom she returns 
 immediately she- is delivered from his magic power, and 
 sneeringly reminds her of what priceless assistance she 
 nevertheless rendered him when it was necessary to de- 
 
 ■\ the purity and virtue of Amfortas. The wretched 
 woman, trying to recover her speech, struggles against 
 these hateful memories and curses them with a harsh and 
 broken voice. Hut the pitiless Klingsor continues by 
 reminding her that for to-day he has reserved for her a 
 still more brilliant victory, for she has to deal with a
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 223 
 
 being protected from the weakness of the flesh by the 
 rampart of innocence. Kundry, in the wildest agony, 
 vainly refuses to obey : the outcast reminds her that he 
 is her master, the sole one who could never be affected 
 by the magic power of her beauty. Kundry, then giving 
 vent to a burst of strident laughter, in her turn mocks at 
 him for his forced chastity •, the sorcerer, enraged by this 
 allusion, tells her that he is not to be insulted with im- 
 punity : how dearly have Titurel and his race had to pav 
 for the contempt they showed him when he wanted to 
 be enrolled in their pious body ! 
 
 But here comes the young hero whom the sorcerer, 
 mounted on the wall of the tower, sees from afar: no 
 more resistance, she must prepare to conquer him. 
 Kundry still struggles, but vainly: the transforming 
 spell is beginning to operate, she is seized with the sin- 
 ister laugh which suddenly changes to a cry of pain ; 
 then she quickly disappears to go to perform her cursed 
 mission and with her vanishes the violet light which en- 
 veloped her. In the meantime, from his post of obser- 
 vation, Klingsor sees the lost troop of knights which he 
 has captured from the Grail dash at Parsifal, who quickly 
 overcomes them, and then the sorcerer disappears, as well 
 as his tower, which sinks into the earth, leaving in its 
 place enchanted gardens full of luxuriant vegetation, 
 tropical plants, and fantastic flowers. At the back 
 rises a castle in the Oriental style, approached by several 
 terraces. 
 
 Second Tableau. — Parsifal standing on the wall, 
 which alone remains of the preceding scene, looks around 
 him in astonishment. Suddenly, from the castle and 
 groves, issues a disordered group of Flower-Maidens, the 
 young and lovely enchantresses created by Klingsor for 
 the ruin of the Knights of the Grail, who run about be-
 
 224 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 wailing the disastrous result of the combat between their 
 companions and the young hero. At first they call down 
 curses on Parsifal ; but when they realize that he wishes 
 them no harm, they try the effect of their charms upon 
 him and seek to allure him, forgetting for his sake the 
 jits whom they have already brought into subjection 
 and damnation. 
 
 Thev disappear in turn into the clumps of foliage 
 to deck themselves with costumes which make them 
 look like lovely blooming flowers, and, surrounding the 
 youth, they dispute with one another for his possession, 
 trying to gain him with bold and wanton behaviour ; 
 but all in vain, for he resolutely repulses and tries to 
 escape them. Then a voice is heard from a neigh- 
 bouring clump softly calling : "Parsifal!" The inno- 
 cent, suddenly remembering that his mother called him 
 thus, stops in emotion, while the Flower-Maidens re- 
 gretfully leave him in obedience to the unknown voice; 
 and he slowly turns towards the clump, which has opened 
 and reveals lying upon a bed of flowers a maiden of ex- 
 quisite beauty, who smiles upon him and invites him to 
 approach. 
 
 It is Kundrv, who, transformed by the arts of the 
 magician and now entirely subject to his domination, is 
 about to carry out his iniquitous plans.. 
 
 I I)'- more easily to gain the chaste youth, who is pro- 
 1 bj his simplicity, she first arouses in him the senti- 
 ment of filial love, the sole affection which has ever 
 touched his pun- heart; she tells him of Herzeleide's 
 tenderness for the feeble being to whom she gave birth 
 in the solitude of the woods, her solicitude for him every 
 moment of the day, her innumerable alarms, afterwards 
 the despair caused her by the flight of the ungrateful 
 child, and finally, her solitary and cruel death when she
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 225 
 
 had lost all hopes of ever seeing her beloved son again. 
 At these words, Parsifal is greatly distressed and vehem- 
 ently reproaches himself for thus having forgotten the 
 gentlest of mothers ; the enchantress then pretends to 
 wish to console him; she tenderly puts her arms round 
 him and tries to persuade him that love alone will cure 
 his remorse. The youth, in tears, does not think of 
 resisting, but when, becoming more pressing, she imprints 
 a long and burning kiss on his lips, he suddenly starts up 
 in unspeakable terror, and lays his hand on his heart, 
 where he seems to feel an intense pain. Suddenly he is 
 struck with the remembrance of Amfortas ; he again sees 
 the cruel wound which nothing can heal, the shame, the 
 humiliation, the agony, and the remorse caused by his 
 irremediable transgression ; he again sees the terrible 
 Eucharist which he was made to witness at Montsalvat ; 
 he recalls the lamentations- of the unfortunate man who 
 had failed in his divine mission ; he even hears his cries 
 to that God of goodness and mercy whose sanctuary 
 has been sullied and betrayed, cries which echoed in the 
 deepest recesses of his heart and illumined him with a 
 mystic prescience. This terrible vision will preserve 
 him from the magic snares prepared for his ruin ; and, 
 although the temptress with her infernal kisses has 
 kindled in his veins a fire which tortures and consumes 
 him, he violently repulses her as Amfortas should have 
 done when she displayed to him the fatal seductions cf 
 her devilish beauty. In vain Kundrv, now caught in 
 her own snare, beseeches him for some response to the 
 love which she feels burning within her, in vain she 
 seeks to excite his pity by telling him of the sufferings 
 she has endured since the insult she once offered to 
 the Saviour, pursuing him with her cruel and impious 
 laughter, and in vain she begs him to regenerate and 
 
 15
 
 
 226 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 redeem her by sharing her passion : Parsifal does not 
 allow himself to he overcome, a divine ray has filled 
 his heart with light, and illuminated his way. If the 
 sinner will follow him in the road of renunciation and 
 sacrifice, he will purify her perverse spirit, he will wash 
 away and efface her criminal past in the fountain of 
 life and truth ; there alone is salvation for her, as for 
 all those who have sinned ; but to merit this unhoped- 
 for grace she must aid him whose ruin she has attempted 
 by facilitating the accomplishment of his sacred mission, 
 and she must help him to find again the mysterious and 
 inaccessible ways which will lead him to Amfortas. 
 
 At the sound of this name, Kundry bursts out into her 
 infernal and cursed laughter, and then, intoxicated with 
 love and anger, she alternately threatens and entreats the 
 hero, promising, if he will yield to her seductions, to 
 guide him along the roads he desires, or, if he resists 
 ^ her, to give him cause to fear the same Lance which 
 formerly overcame and wounded him whose defender he 
 wishes to constitute himself. 
 
 She again proffers her caresses, but Parsifal repulses 
 , her with horror; she falls back, uttering the most terrible 
 imprecations, and cursing every effort he shall henceforth 
 make to find Alontsalvat again. 
 
 Klingsor, running at the sound of Kundry's cries, 
 brandishes and casts with great force the sacred Lance 
 with which he desires to wound Parsifal; but the weapon 
 remains miraculously suspended above the head of the 
 hero, who grasps it and with it solemnly traces in the air 
 a large sign of the cross. At this sign, the enchantments 
 woven by Klingsor are suddenly broken ; the magic 
 
 tie < rumbles away, the gardens wither and become as 
 ami as a desert, the flower-Maidens lie on the ground 
 like withered plants, and Parsifal, standing on the wall
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 22' 
 
 before departing, addresses Kundry, who is stretched on 
 the earth exhausted with the struggle, and reminds her 
 that he awaits her yonder at the radiant fountains of life, 
 mercy, and pardon. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 First Tableau. — The third act brings us back to 
 the sacred grounds of Montsalvat, but not on the same 
 side as in the first act. The stage shows a spring land- 
 scape ; at the back, a flower-enamelled meadow gently 
 sloping upwards ; to the right, the skirts of a wood with 
 a spring in the foreground ; on the left, a rock against 
 which leans a poor hut inhabited by Gurnemanz. The 
 good knight, who has now reached a great age, lives as a 
 hermit in the forest, always bewailing the distressful days 
 of the Grail which nothing comes to succour. 
 
 As the curtain rises it is scarcely broad daylight ; but 
 the hermit comes out of his dwelling, attracted by a plain- 
 tive moaning which issues from a thick copse. He 
 approaches and discovers the inanimate body of Kundry, 
 whose sleep seems to be troubled by dreadful dreams. 
 How long has the unfortunate woman been among the 
 brushwood ? He draws her forward, lays her on the 
 sward, and tries to reanimate her by a vigorous rubbing. 
 At last she is partly restored, and, after looking around 
 her in stupefaction, she gazes long at the hermit. She 
 smooths away some of the disorder of her dress and hair ; 
 her appearance is the same, although less wild and savage 
 than when she used to serve the knights. Her com- 
 plexion is paler, and the expression of her eyes has some- 
 how become gentler, and more submissive. She begins 
 to b usy h erself as usu al wit h d omestic du ties without 
 speaking a word, to the great astonishment of the old 
 man, who is surprised at receiving no thanks for his 

 
 228 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 solicitude. He speaks to her about it, and Kundry an- 
 swers in a harsh and broken voice with the single word 
 rvice." But alas ! there is no longer any need for 
 her eager devotion, no more messages to carry to distant 
 places, the servants of the Grail stay in their own domain, 
 in mourning and gloom ! 
 
 Kundry, who has evidently returned to her humble 
 office of servant to the knights, having found an empty 
 pitcher in the hut goes to the spring to fill it ; from there 
 she perceives through the forest a new arrival, whom she 
 points out to Gurnemanz. 
 
 A knight in black armour, with closed visor, issues 
 from the wood, walking with slow and hesitating step ; 
 it is Parsifal who has long been wandering in search of 
 the roads to the Grail, from which he has been excluded 
 by the malediction of the enchantress. He sits down on 
 a mound, exhausted, and only makes signs with his head 
 to the kind and friendly questions which the pious hermit 
 puts, without recognizing him. The old man asks him 
 to take- oft" his armour, as it is not proper to wear it in 
 the sacred domain : he must not march here armed, 
 with closed \isor, especially on this anniversary of the 
 Sa\ iour's divine expiation for our sins. Parsifal, with 
 Sture, makes him understand that he did not know 
 it was Good Friday, and then, rising, he strikes into the 
 ground the Lance he holds in his hand, he lays aside his 
 sword and buckler, as well as his casque, and, falling on 
 his knees, prays long and fervently. Gurnemanz, who, 
 as well as Kundry, has followed the movements of the 
 knight in astonishment, then recognizes him ; the sight 
 nt him tills him with emotion ; Kundry is also agitated 
 at the presence of Parsifal, and turns away her head. 
 
 pure hero, having ceased his meditations, rises, 
 and, at last, addressing the old knight, tells him the
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 229 
 
 happiness he feels at finding him again after so many 
 efforts in this domain of the Grail which he has sought 
 so long in vain : the terrible malediction which weighed 
 upon him ceaselessly led him astray just when he thought 
 to reach the goal, raising up innumerable foes, from whom 
 he received many wounds, for he could not fight with the 
 sacred Lance, regained at last by the divine aid, as he 
 wished to bring it back intact and absolutely unsullied 
 to the sanctuary where it shall henceforth shine with 
 an immaculate splendour. Gurnemanz is intensely 
 moved at the sight of the sacred weapon which he has 
 so long desired again to see, and the return of which 
 will change the sad fortunes of the Grail to a new era 
 of glory and joyfulness. 
 
 He tells Parsifal of the great disasters of the noble 
 and holy brotherhood, the constantly increasing suf- 
 ferings of the unfortunate but cowardly king, who, in 
 order* to put an end to his tortures and call death to his 
 aid more quickly, has resolved no longer to distribute 
 to them the celestial nourishment, and leaves them to 
 feed on gross food which no longer sustains their failing 
 strength. Finally, the greatest misfortune of all, the old 
 and noble Titurel, deprived in common with all the rest 
 of the comforting and sacred vision of the Grail, has not 
 been able to survive his misery, and has just died, the 
 victim of the transgression of his own son. 
 
 On hearing of these misfortunes, Parsifal shows the 
 most profound sorrow ; he accuses himself of all the 
 evils which have fallen upon the Grail, and, overcome 
 by grief, he almost falls into a faint. The hermit sup- 
 ports him and Kundrv hastens to revive him with the 
 water which she brings in a basin ; but the old man 
 sends her away, and brings the knight to the sacred 
 spring to bathe his limbs, which are weary with his long
 
 230 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 journey and soiled by the dust of the wayside. His body 
 must be as pure as his soul, for, doubtless, this very day 
 he will be called to accomplish a great and solemn 
 mission. 
 
 While Gurnemanz takes off the hero's cuirass and 
 Kundiv bathes his feet, in a faint voice he again expresses 
 the desire to be conducted to Amfortas without delay. 
 The old knight acquiesces : to-day he will lead him to 
 the sanctuary where Titurel's obsequies are to be held, 
 during which his unfortunate son, who is responsible for 
 the death of that great man, has promised once more to 
 uncover the Grail and to officiate, however great his 
 sufferings may be. But henceforth he must resign these 
 sacred duties, which he is no longer worthy to perform, 
 leaving them to him who has come victoriously through the 
 dangerous trials. To Parsifal must revert the titles and 
 rights of the prince and pontiff of the Grail. He feels 
 this as well as Gurnemanz ; and therefore he asks the 
 noble servant of God to pour upon his head the purify- 
 ing water of baptism. While the old man sprinkles the 
 bowed head of the neophyte, Kundry, a new Magdalen, 
 piously kneeling before her lord, anoints his feet, which 
 she afterwards wipes with her own thick tresses, with 
 the precious perfume of a golden vial, which she has taken 
 from her bosom. Parsifal, taking this vial from her 
 hands, then asks Gurnemanz to complete the work of 
 sanctification and invest him with the double glory of 
 pontiff and king. 
 
 The old knight, whose whole life has been a long ex- 
 ample of purity and austerity, is worthy to accomplish 
 this great act : he hails Parsifal as the elect of the Lord, 
 the Guileless Fool, whose compassion for the sufferings 
 ot others has gained for him the power of performing 
 the heroic action which is going to restore to the Grail
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 231 
 
 its vigour and lost splendour. Then, pouring upon his 
 head the contents of the golden vial, he creates him 
 Prince and King of the Grail: he anoints him Priest, 
 calling down upon him in solemn words the grace and 
 benediction of the Most High. 
 
 Scarcely is he invested with these functions, when 
 Parsifal, remembering that here is a sinner longing for 
 pardon and anxiously awaiting the redemption of her 
 soul, dips some of the water out of the spring with his 
 hands, without being perceived, and pronounces above 
 the head of the still kneeling Kundry, the words of 
 redemption which will efface the sins of the accursed 
 past. The poor creature, at last feeling herself under 
 divine clemency and protection, bows herself to the 
 earth, and gives free course to her emotion and her tears. 
 
 Then, raising his eyes to the brilliant landscape 
 around him, Parsifal admires the beauty of the woods 
 and meadows, their calm blossoming and the purity of 
 the foliage of this blessed region, contrasting them 
 with the flowers of evil which he once saw. But he is 
 surprised at Nature's serenity on this anniversary of 
 grief and mourning, when everything that lives and 
 breathes should lament and despair. No, says Gurne- 
 manz, on the contrary, Nature, fertilized by the tears 
 and repentance of the sinner, rises revivified by this 
 beneficent dew; all creatures, feeling the divine pardon 
 hovering over them, break out in a hymn of gratitude to 
 the divine Redeemer; man, purified by the sublime 
 sacrifice, addresses a long sons of love to his Saviour: 
 joy and happiness animate all creation, and this is what 
 is expressed by the flowers that bloom in the meadows 
 when they show themselves so brilliantly on this blessed 
 day ; it is the Spell of Good Friday ! 
 
 Kundry, coming out of her ecstasy, raises her eyes
 
 232 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 full of tears in a calm and profound glance which seems 
 to implore Parsifal's pardon. He gently kisses her on 
 the brow and thinks of the companions of the sinner, 
 who have not been able to shed tears of repentance and 
 forgiveness. But bells are heard in the distance: it is 
 Montsalvat calling together its servants for the funeral 
 ceremony. 
 
 Gurnemanz respectfully clothes him whom he has 
 just anointed King with the armour and the long mantle 
 of the Knights of the Grail which he has fetched from 
 his hut. He leads the way, followed by the elect, who 
 solemnly bears the Lance, and by the humbly repentant 
 Kundrv. The country rolls by, as in the first act, but 
 inversely, for now we are on the other slope of Mont- 
 salvat: the forest disappears, and, after having passed 
 the doors in the rock, the three travellers penetrate into 
 the galleries, where are visible long lines of knights in 
 mourning robes. The sound of the bells comes nearer, 
 till at last they enter the great hall of the castle, which 
 is denuded of its tables and has a gloomy appearance. 
 The side doors open to admit the knights, who on one 
 side escort the coffin of Titurel, and on the other accom- 
 pany the litter of Amfortas, which is preceded by the 
 veiled shrine of the Grail. 
 
 Second Tableau. — A catafalque occupies the centre 
 of the stage, and behind it, under a dais, is the throne of 
 Amfortas. 
 
 The two processions, singing an antiphonal chant, 
 relate the lamentable death of the aged Titurel when 
 deprived of the comforting sight of the sacred chalice, 
 and announce the last celebration of the holy mysteries 
 by the guilty prince whose sin has been the cause of all 
 these great misfortunes. They place the coffin upon 
 the catafalque, and Amfortas upon his couch, and call
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 233 
 
 upon him to fulfil his office once more. But he, in 
 terror, rising on his couch, and calling upon his father, 
 the valiant and pure hero, begs his forgiveness, prays 
 him to take pity on his eternal martyrdom, and not to 
 prolong his tortures by obliging him to look again on 
 the sacred cup, the sight of which will only bring an 
 added capacity for greater sufferings. He calls death to 
 his aid : that liberator, whose kindly shades he already 
 feels about him, is coming, and shall he make a new 
 compact with a life of endless agony ? No, no, noth- 
 ing shall force him to live : let his knights complete the 
 work of destruction, let them plunge their swords into 
 the gaping wound, let them deliver the unhappy man 
 from his horrible torment, and of itself the Grail will 
 regain its brilliance and its untarnished splendour ! In 
 a paroxysm of exaltation and agony, Amfortas tears his 
 robe and exposes his frightful wound ; all start back in 
 affright. Parsifal, who, accompanied by Gurnemanz 
 and Kundry, has come in without being noticed, ad- 
 vances, brandishing the sacred Lance, and with it 
 touches the side of the unfortunate man ; Amfortas, 
 feeling his pain eased and understanding that his prayers 
 have at last been answered, is overcome with religious 
 emotion ; he totters and falls into Gurnemanz's arms. 
 Parsifal then pronounces words of benediction and peace 
 over him and presents to the astonished and delighted 
 servants of the Grail, the sacred Lance, which has at 
 last been reconquered by him, the Guileless Fool, whom 
 the Most High, in his compassion for human suffering, 
 has endowed with the necessary power to accomplish 
 this act of heroism and redemption. Then, declaring 
 himself henceforth the servant and pontiff" of the Grail, 
 he orders the shrine to be unveiled, and, taking out the 
 holy cup, he prostrates himself before the sacred relic
 
 \K 
 
 234 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 and fervently adores it. In his turn he celebrates the 
 Eucharist. The chalice glows and illumines the whole 
 assemblj with its radiance. Titurel, momentarily re- 
 Y^P \ v iving , rises and blesses all present, while a white dove 
 C v descends from the dome and hovers above the elect, who 
 
 takes the Grail and with it makes a large and solemn 
 sign of the cross above the adoring crowd. Kundry 
 falls at the feet of Parsifal, before whom Amfortas and 
 Gurnemanz bow in silent admiration, whilst the assem- 
 bly of knights, pages, and squires, who are stationed 
 throughout the building to the top of the dome, from 
 every part of the church with subdued voice sing a great 
 psalm of love and thanksgiving. 
 
 
 
 <&
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 235 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 ANALYSIS OF THE MUSIC 
 
 " The musician reveals to us the hid- 
 den spirit of the world, he makes 
 himself the interpreter of the pro- 
 foundest wisdom, whilst speaking a 
 language which reason does not un- 
 derstand." — Schopenhauer. 
 
 THIS chapter is the complement of the preceding 
 and was originally intended to form a part of it. 
 Just as in studying the poems it was impossible for me 
 entirely to avoid speaking of the music, so also it will 
 happen here that I shall sometimes be compelled to refer 
 to the dramatic action in order to show more clearly the 
 exact force of the musical action. This is of little im- 
 portance if only it makes it clearer. 
 
 And first I would remind the reader that the special 
 mission of music, as conceived by Wagner, is to place 
 the spectator in direct communication with the very 
 spirit of the characters, to reveal their most secret 
 thoughts, and to render them transparent, so to speak, 
 to their hearers, who will thus often come to know them 
 better than they know themselves. 
 
 The music, then, may often contradict the words, but 
 not the action ; if, for example, we are in the presence 
 of a shrewd, false, or subtle person, it reveals his deceit 
 and permits us to grasp the real motive of his actions, 
 unknown to himself.
 
 236 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 Let us add that, by an inevitable stage convention, the 
 actors arc- supposed not to hear the perpetual orchestral 
 commentary. 
 
 Now let us enter the musical domain and examine 
 separately each of its constituent elements. 
 
 It is advisable first to study the Wagnerian Melody, 
 and to form a clear idea of what it consists. 
 
 The poverty of the French language is such that this 
 word melody, infallibly causes us to think of melody of 
 Italian origin, the cantilena, based on the regular rhyth- 
 mical return of musical phrases, the sentiment of the key, 
 and the invariable close with a perfect cadence, as has 
 been practised not only in Italv, but also in France, from 
 Monsigny to Felicien David, and in Germany also by 
 Mozart and Haydn. 
 
 Now this rhythmical and purely tonal form, which, 
 moreover, is perfectly logical, is neither unknown to nor 
 scorned bv Wagner, since he often uses it, notably in the 
 Romance of the Evening Star and the March in Tann- 
 bauser, in the Chorus of Spinners in the Fixing Dutch- 
 man, in the Nuptial March, religious March, and Bridal 
 Chorus in Lohengrin, in the Prize Song and motiv of 
 f : : Crown in Met si 'er singer, and on many other occa- 
 sions down to his very last works. 
 
 Hut this is only one conception of melody, and it is 
 necessary to give a wider interpretation to the word in 
 order to understand how it is viewed by Wagner, who 
 has declared that, according to his idea, " in music all is 
 melody." 
 
 Pure melody, melody in its essence, the sole kind to 
 which this name should really be applied, is that which 
 is complete in itself and docs not need any harmonic 
 
 operation ; in scientific musical language this is called,
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 23; 
 
 rather, homophony. The word matters little ; homophony 
 and melopa-ia are purely melodic forms. The Hymns of 
 the early Christians, as we see from the Catholic Plain- 
 Song given without accompaniment, that is to say in its 
 native purity, were also of a purely melodic character; 
 in these, however, we do not find any trace of symmet- 
 rical phrases, and the sentiment of the key was under- 
 stood quite differently than at the present day. It is the 
 same with Oriental music even now, and with many 
 popular airs of all countries which have been created 
 without accompaniments, and to which none could be 
 adapted without destroying their character more or less. 
 The Lutheran Chorale, of more recent creation, possesses 
 both the polyphonic form and modern tonality, but all 
 idea of regular rhythm is absent from it ; the pointing 
 alone is indicated by cadences followed by holds ; no 
 one, however, would think of denying that this chant 
 constitutes a true melody. In the time of Palestrina 
 the air was placed most frequently in the lowest part of 
 the harmony, the bass. There was a time when the 
 cantus firmus was given to the tenor (dhcantus) ; to-day 
 we are accustomed to place it in the highest part. 
 There have thus been various acceptations of the same 
 term. 
 
 It must not be forgotten that, etymologically, melody 
 comes from the Greek melos (which signifies number, 
 rhythm, verse, phrase), and ode {song, ode) ; that is to say, 
 properly speaking, the song of a phrase or verse. By 
 the word melos the ancients understood also the sweet- 
 ness of the articulate voice, words sung, and the music 
 of speech. 
 
 This being settled, in order thoroughly to establish 
 that melody may be understood in different ways, it is im- 
 portant to know that the Wagnerian melody is not sub-
 
 238 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 ject to the laws of regular symmetrical construction, nor 
 toned to move within the limits of one tonality, nor yet 
 to end with a perfect cadence. Wagner's melody is free 
 and infinite in the sense of not being finished, that is to 
 say, never ending and always linking itself to another 
 melody, thus admitting of all possible modulations, h 
 is, if vou prefer, an uninterrupted sequence of melodic 
 contours, of broken bits of melody having more or less 
 of a vocal character. The example of such interrupted 
 melodies is given by Beethoven in his symphonic de- 
 velopment, where it does not surprise us; but it was left 
 for Wagner to transport the symphony to the stage, and 
 make of it the living commentary on the action and the 
 powerful auxiliary to the words. 
 
 Most frequently, then, this continuous melody devolves 
 upon the orchestra, leaving the singer every liberty in 
 his musical declamation, to the great advantage of the 
 diction. These two points, the absolute sincerity of 
 dramatic accent and its intimate union in every case with 
 the symphonic tissue, may be considered as characteristic 
 of the Wagnerian style in its highest development. 
 
 In that species of entertainment which has been much 
 in vogue in France for several years, and which is called 
 musical recitation, an honourable derivation from the 
 ancient melodrama, we see an elocutionist, tragedian or 
 comedian, reciting verses, the sentiment of which the 
 orchestra, or sometimes, alas! the piano, endeavours to 
 intensify. 
 
 This combination, although hybrid, may attain a con- 
 siderable power; 1 but how difficult must be the execu- 
 tion, and also how complicated for the listener if he 
 wants, to be equally interested in the music and in the 
 
 1 Meyerbeer, one of the first to employ it, has given an example 
 in one of the last scenes in Struensee.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 239 
 
 poetry recited ! The musician and the declaimer, hav- 
 ing nothing in common, either time or intonation, have 
 no means of establishing perfect relations with each 
 other, nor of keeping strictly together; they have to be 
 content with a compromise. 
 
 If for declamation, properly so-called, lyrical decla- 
 mation is substituted, if the verses are scanned and the 
 intonation regulated according to musical notation, 
 whilst leaving to the orchestra its own role both melodic 
 and symphonic, then one part of the Wagnerian method 
 will have been realized, that is the intimate union of 
 the sung words with the orchestral web, both converging 
 to the same end, forcible and clear dramatic accent, and 
 both preserving their most energetic means of expression 
 side by side with their own liberty of action. 
 
 But another element enters into the composition of 
 the endless melodic tissue as Wagner understands it. 
 This is the Leit-motiv. 1 — To describe its nature I 
 will make use of a comparison. When we read a novel 
 in which the characters or localities are vigorously drawn, 
 as in Walter Scott, Victor Hugo, George Sand, Balzac, 
 or Zola, these characters or localities, although often 
 purely fanciful and creations of the novelist's imagina- 
 tion, are engraved in our mind in a certain form, sil- 
 houette, or perspective, which is henceforth unchangeable. 
 When, ten years later, we again read the same novel, 
 these same images and no others will be outlined in our 
 thoughts with the same attitudes, the same features, and 
 the same details as when we first read of them, so 
 strongly and vividly that we seem to be renewing old 
 acquaintances, or to be travelling in a country we have 
 already visited; but if, on the second reading, we have 
 1 Ty pe-moti'-v, lezd'mg-motiv.
 
 2 4 o THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 an illustrated edition, no matter how talented the artist, 
 we are often shocked at not recognizing our old friends, 
 or at not seeing our ideal landscape drawn as we had 
 imagined it. 
 
 When, therefore, we are greatly struck by the descrip-- 
 tion of anv character, we instinctively give it an image 
 which remains proper to it (whilst being at the same 
 time personal to ourselves), — it assumes a fixed and 
 definite form. Our mind cannot afterwards picture it 
 otherwise; the mere thought of the personage calls up 
 his image, and, inversely, if the image first presents itself 
 to our memorv it brings back the personage with all the 
 details of his character as we first learnt to know him. 
 
 The name of the hero himself is indissolubly connected 
 with the type under which we have represented him to 
 ourselves. 
 
 It is the same with any described locality, or an 
 interior, or any stirring action, a murder, a tourney, a 
 scene of torture, or a supernatural apparition. We first 
 picture it to ourselves under the influence of the writer, 
 and it thus remains definitely fixed in our mind. 
 
 This impression is not effaced with time ; it may be 
 modified in certain details by reflection, or by extended 
 knowledge, as by reading other works in which the 
 same characters, or the same facts are presented under 
 another aspect, or in a fresh light ; but the main outlines 
 endure. 
 
 Every one has experienced this. 
 
 Now let it be admitted, which is not difficult, that 
 ^ agner thought in music, that is to say, that every objec- 
 tive, or subjective idea with him assumed a musical form, 
 a melodic contour, which thenceforth clung to it, and I 
 think the best elementary notion of what a Leit-motiv is 
 will be gained.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 241 
 
 It is, so to speak, the musical embodiment of an idea, 
 and Wagner is neither the first nor the only one who 
 has thus thought in music and given to a character, a 
 fact, or a particular impression, a form which is clearly 
 recognizable and perceptible to the hearing. 
 
 Musical language, notwithstanding its lack of pre- 
 cision, or perhaps for that very reason, constitutes the 
 highest, purest, and most sincere expression of human 
 thought, the one furthest removed from materialism and 
 conventionalism. Whoever comes to think in music 
 as he would think in the language he is accustomed to 
 use, thereby finds the horizon of his ideas strangely 
 widens. This faculty in its full power is reserved for 
 the elect, but there is not a single true musician who 
 has not felt something of it. 
 
 This is the origin of the Leit-motiv. Embryonic 
 traces of type-motive may be already gathered in Gluck, 
 Mozart, and Beethoven ; l they become more frequent 
 in Weber, and still more marked in Meyerbeer and 
 Berlioz, the latter, Wagner's contemporaries. It may 
 be said that the faculty of giving to an intellectual con- 
 ception, or a state of mind, a musical contour which 
 becomes its quasi-hieroglyphic representation, has existed 
 in a latent state with all composers at all times; 
 but no one had thought of raising it to a principle and 
 making it one of the fundamental features of a system. 
 It was an isolated, though expressive, fact, and it escaped 
 the attention of the superficial hearer. 
 
 Wagner himself, in his first works, to Rie>iz/\ does not 
 
 1 In his purely symphonic works, Beethoven had no reason to 
 attach the idea of a character to a motin), but most certainly every 
 motii) he selected for working out is associated with some philo- 
 sophical thought which stands prominently out and thus become 
 in the symphony the absolute equivalent of what the Leit-mothv is 
 in the musical drama. 
 
 16
 
 2 4 2 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 seem to pay much attention to it. It is in Der Fliegende 
 Hollander that we find his first and extremely modest 
 application of it ; three characteristic forms are found 
 united in Scuta's Ballade, as well as in the overture : a 
 call, a figure of accompaniment, and a purely melodic 
 contour are the subjects of frequent recurrence. In 
 Tannhauser we already find five type-motive, clearly 
 characterized, and nine at least in Lohengrin; but their 
 employment is intermittent and episodical, being limited 
 to certain important scenes to which they are intended 
 forcibly to call attention ; if they do not yet constitute 
 the essential part of the symphonic development, they are, 
 however, already employed with greater insistence and 
 sagacity than ever before. 
 
 It was from this moment that Wagner began to under- 
 stand the extraordinary power of this new machinery, 
 and in all the following works which constitute his last 
 manner, in Tristan, in Die Meistersinger, in the Tetra- 
 logy, and in Parsifal, we see it henceforth systematically 
 used with conscious purpose and reason. 
 
 The Wagnerian Leit-motiv is always short, simple. 
 and easy to recognize and remember. It is almost always 
 presented for the first time in its entirety with the words 
 determining the meaning attached to it, or at a moment 
 when the scenic action does not permit any misunder- 
 Standing as to its signification. Afterwards it may be 
 represented with infinite modifications, either in rhythm, 
 or the details of its melodic contour, or in its harmoniza- 
 tion, or instrumentation, broken into fragments, changed 
 in character, ennobled or made ridiculous by augmentation, 
 diminution, or inversion, 1 it is always recognizable, and 
 ites in even a passive listener a state of mind similar 
 t" that which accompanied its first appearance. 
 1 Contrapuntal methods.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 243 
 
 Therein lies its power; with a few notes it calls up a 
 whole throng of ideas and without any more effort on 
 the part of the listener than in having a well-known image 
 passed before his eyes. It is a musical portrait, though 
 often purely imaginary, or one that we are willing to 
 accept. 
 
 In fact, the Leit-motive that have an imitative and 
 descriptive character are in the minority ; I will, how- 
 ever, cite a few of those which are really musical onoma- 
 topoeia ; Kundry's nervous laughter, the gallop of the 
 horses in The Ride of the JValkyries, the roarings of the 
 Dragon, the noise of the Forge, and, perhaps above all, 
 the undulation of the waves at the beginning of Das Rhein- 
 gold ; these are addressed directly to the ear. They are 
 sound-images. 
 
 Others, by their very character, strongly call to mind 
 the idea of the object they are intended to represent : 
 Walhalla is majestic and solemn ; the Sword gleams ; 
 the Flames crackle; the moth of the Eucharist in Parsi- 
 fal spreads out like an immense sign of the Cross, etc. 
 Here again it is difficult to be mistaken. Others 
 equally typical might be quoted, notably in Die Meister- 
 singer. 
 
 But this is not an indispensable character of the Leit- 
 motiv, whose form, on the contrary, is, in the majority of 
 cases, much more arbitrary and unrestrained. This 
 doubtless accounts for the notable divergences in the 
 names which various commentators give to the same 
 theme ; to cite only one example, there is a motiv in 
 Tristan which is considered by one as representing Ven- 
 geance, by another, the Hero, and by a third, Fate. To 
 tell the truth, this is not a matter of supreme importance ; 
 it is not a name that must be associated with a Leit-motiv, 
 it is an idea, or still better, an assemblage of ideas,
 
 244 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 a philosophical conception : the name is only a con- 
 venience ; however, in the following pages I will en- 
 deavour to call every motiv by the name under which it 
 is most generally known, in order to avoid criticism. 
 
 Most frequently the Leit-motiv consists of a melodic 
 figure of several notes which may be modified even in its 
 structure, in its rhythm, in its harmony, or in its orches- 
 tration ; these various transformations never deprive it of 
 its first signification, but vary either its importance or 
 expression for the moment; it will thus pass in turn 
 through phases of tenderness, heroism, sadness, or joy, 
 without e\ er severing its connection with its own original 
 object ; it possesses an exquisite sensibility, for example, 
 when it has to depict the character of Walter in his 
 knightly pride, and then sad. anxious, or, again, carica- 
 tured by his rival ; it acquires a touching eloquence when 
 it has to describe Walhalla destroyed, or in ruins, after 
 having made us acquainted with it in its splendour; it is 
 sometimes wittv to excess; when, in Die IValkure, the 
 virtuous Fricka is indignant about the incestuous love of 
 Siegmund and Sieglinde, the indulgent orchestra excuses 
 them, murmuring: " It is Spring-time," before Wotan 
 has even opened his lips to reply. 
 
 In other and rarer cases, the Leit-motiv assumes an 
 invariable harmonic form; then the rhythmic structure 
 ami instrumental combinations alone may be changed; I 
 will give as examples the Harmony of the Wanderer; 
 the Harmony of the Casque (Tarnhelm) ; the Harmony 
 of Eternal Sleep in the Tetralogy ; the Harmony of the 
 Swan in Lohengrin and Parsifal; and the Harmony of 
 thi Dream in l)i, Meistersinger. 
 
 More rarely the characteristic of the motif is its per- 
 sistent rhythm, as in the motif of the Forge in Siegfried, 
 and again in The Ride of the Walkyries.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 245 
 
 To whichever of these categories (melodic, harmonic, 
 or rhythmic) they belong, the Lett-motive always present 
 themselves to the listener without exacting any efforts of 
 attention or research on his part ; Wagner constantly 
 places them in relief, in some way or other accentuates 
 them, or repeats them if it is necessary, and they cannot 
 pass by unperceived except in cases where they are of no 
 importance. It is, then, a mistake to torture your mind 
 by searching for them ; they will come to you of them- 
 selves, even if you know ever so little about their com- 
 position, as soon as you become interested in the dramatic 
 action. They are veritable guides, valuable conductors 
 who explain and comment upon the situations, not allow- 
 ing you to go astray in erroneous suppositions, and elu- 
 cidating the scenario like the explanation that accompanies 
 a plan. 
 
 Several forms of typical motive seemed especially to 
 haunt Wagner and return to his mind on various occa- 
 sions : such as the two chords by which he repre- 
 sents the Swan in Lohengrin as well as in Parsifal. And 
 what could be more natural ? Is it not always the 
 Swan of the Grail ? Before leaving the above works, 
 we must observe that the final notes of the first entry of 
 the trombones in the Prelude of Lohengrin shadow forth 
 the motiv of the Lance in Parsifal ; this again is easily 
 explained, for the Prelude of Lohengrin speaks of nothing 
 but the mysteries of Montsalvat. More involuntary, 
 perhaps, and yet perfectly justifiable, is the likeness of a 
 group of chords frequently repeated in the entr'acte of 
 the third act of Tannhauser (which are found again in 
 Tannhauser's recital on his return from Rome) to the 
 theme of Faith in Parsifal. We may quote other an- 
 alogies : between two fragments, one belonging to the 
 Romance of the Evening Star, the other to the great
 
 246 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 Duet between Tristan and Isolde ; also between a phrase 
 which is found in the orchestra in Die Meistersinger 
 forty-four bars after the beginning of the Choral of Jordan 
 (Act III. Scene I.), and another beautiful phrase sung by 
 Fricka at the ninety-seventh bar in the second scene of 
 Das Rheingold; here the resemblance is more harmonic 
 than melodic ; they have only a family likeness ; but again 
 in Die Meistersinger^ twenty-one bars before the Memories 
 of Youth (Act III. Scene II.), Walter's melodic contour 
 reproduces exactly that of the austere goddess of mar- 
 riage ; now precisely at this moment, he is speaking of 
 conjugal love; we must not regard this as a chance 
 effect ; and between Wotan's Anger and Brangane's 
 Hesitation. Finally, on two occasions, Wagner musi- 
 cally quotes himself with an admirable appropriateness : 
 the first in intercalating two motive from Tristan (De- 
 sire and Consternation') into the third act of Die Meister- 
 singer a little before the celebrated Quintet of Baptism; 
 the second in introducing some bars from Tannhauser 
 into Parsifal} 
 
 One rather remarkable thing is that certain of these 
 motive have a marked predilection for a particular key ; 
 the Walhalla moth affects keys abounding in flats ; the 
 Sword appears most often in C major; the Fire much 
 prefers sharps; the Walkyrie sleeps in E major, etc. 
 
 Although the use of typical motive is not constant 
 ami exclusive, which would cause too much tension,. 
 
 1 One of the most curious resemblances may be traced between 
 
 tin- end of the Overture to Der Fliegende Hollander (the first fifteen 
 
 in ',•) and the opening of Das Rheingold by Woghnde's entrance. 
 
 tly the same harmonic method, and almost the same 
 
 melodic contour. 
 
 (Although Der Fliegende Hollander is not included in this study, 
 which is limited to the works which form the Bayreuth repertoire, 
 I have thought it interesting to note this reminiscence after an 
 interval of eleven years.)
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 247 
 
 wc must recognize in them the most important materials 
 of the Wagnerian Symphony, from the point of view of 
 melody as well as harmony. 
 
 Wagner never demanded extraordinary voices. He 
 did not write with a view to giving such or such a singer 
 the opportunity to sing a note which he alone could 
 reach, or to make a parade of his virtuosity. He wrote 
 simply for soprano, contralto, tenor, or bass, mezzo- 
 soprano, or barytone, not demanding from any one more 
 than he could normally produce ; keeping each voice in 
 the tessitura which suits it, but utterly doing away with 
 florid ornaments, roulades, and trills, which the Italian 
 school considered the embellishment of vocal style, and 
 from which neither the German nor the French school 
 was entirely free in his day. 
 
 He writes above all and before all for musicians, for 
 people who know how to sing true and in exact time; 
 there is no question here of holding and dying away on 
 a high note ; and the orchestral conductor is not there to 
 follow the singer ; for the very form of his melody, as 
 we have just described, which constantly passes from the 
 stage to the orchestra and from the orchestra to the 
 stage (remaining much the longest in the orchestra), de- 
 mands a symphonic interpretation. It cannot be other- 
 wise, and that is the secret of his power; it is instru- 
 mental and a commentary on the verse or on the action, 
 and this is where it differs from the Italian and French 
 melody which is based on symmetrical rhythmical con- 
 struction and the brilliant effect of the vocal technique. 
 
 Melodic ornaments are rare in Wagner; the gruppetto 
 seems reserved for the expression of amorous or passionate 
 sentiments, or, at least, it conveys the idea of supreme 
 elegance.
 
 248 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 But what is far from rare is the episodical employment 
 of the most frankly Italian melodic forms. See the 
 Love Song in Tristan (p. 298) ; Flosshilde's phrase in 
 D-flat in the first tableau of Das Rheingold\ then at 
 Scene II., the second part of Fricka's phrase (already 
 cited on p. 246), immediately taken up by Wotan a tone 
 lower, and which has received the name of Love's Fascina- 
 tion (p. 353). It is necessary, moreover, to remember 
 that Wagner was a great admirer, at least at one time, 
 of the elegance and suppleness of Bellini's vocal phrases. 
 tl With Bellini that song so simply noble and beautiful 
 which charmed us was pure melody ; to believe and 
 maintain that is certainly no sin ; perhaps it is no more 
 a sin than it is to pray to Heaven before lying down 
 that the idea of such melodies and such a method of 
 treating song may come to the German composers." 
 (Richard Wagner, Bellini.} 
 
 However momentary it may have been, this impres- 
 sion existed, and a trace of it has always remained. 
 Wagner, then, was an eclectic ; in every school he was 
 able to discern what was really beautiful, and truly with 
 Bellini it was not harmony. 
 
 Wagner's System of Harmony greatly resembles that 
 of J. S. Bach and Beethoven in his third period; that is 
 to say, he pays more attention to the rules of counter- 
 point than to harmony properly so-called. Not that he 
 ignored the latter, but the necessity of frequently com- 
 bining the Lett-motive with each other simultaneously, 
 forced bim to give most weight to the independent prog- 
 ress of the paits, as is allowable in the fugal style; it 
 was the only way to play freely with these Leit-motive, 
 to make them appear sometimes in one part, sometimes 
 in another, constantly varying their form, to make them
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 249 
 
 cross, interlace, overlap, and run after one another, exactly 
 as the subject and its counter-subjects do in a fugue. 
 
 It would force us to enter into considerations far too 
 technical, to analyze here the harmonic structure of 
 Wagner's works. Let us simply say that those who 
 think they perceive errors in certain passages are abso- 
 lutely mistaken ; if certain combinations of chords are 
 irregular according to the strict rules of harmony, they 
 appear irrefutably logical when they are considered from 
 the highest view of counterpoint, a considerably enlarged 
 and dramatized counterpoint, untrammelled, and enriched 
 with the boldness of modern harmony, together with the 
 very frequent employment of the chord of the augmented 
 fifth and its inversions (which is already found in Schu- 
 mann), with an extraordinary wealth of pedal-points, 
 often disguised, and a very evident contempt of conven- 
 tional restrictions. 
 
 Altogether, it is incontestable that this system is not 
 simple, but its complications are always ingenious and 
 appropriate to the circumstances. Besides, these com- 
 plications are not continual ; it is sufficient to cite the 
 I Valhalla-mot iv (Das Rhehigold, at the beginning of Scene 
 II.), which is entirely constructed of perfect chords; 
 other examples are not rare, but nevertheless they are 
 exceptional. 
 
 The management of modulations, from a purely musi- 
 cal point of view, does not seem of much importance to 
 Wagner, and in this he parts company with Beethoven 
 and Bach ; his choice of key is guided solely by the 
 dramatic interest and by considerations of the province 
 of the orchestra ; the action once begun, the modulation 
 is perpetual, and, in many places, the most ingenious per- 
 son would find it impossible to name the key at any 
 given moment ; the result is an impression of life and
 
 2 5 o THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 struggle of inconceivable power. On the other hand, 
 at the beginning of the acts, we find him attaching an 
 extraordinary importance to the establishment of the 
 first tonality, an importance to which I shall have occa- 
 sion to return. 
 
 Perfect cadence is extremely rare ; this is the inevitable 
 consequence of the system of continuous melody ; in 
 fact, the sense of perfect cadence is conclusion, comple- 
 tion ; now, all Wagner's phrases being linked to each 
 other without constantly coming to an end, the cadence 
 must be reserved almost exclusively for the ends of the 
 acts, or sometimes of the scenes, where rest is obliga- 
 tory ; they are indeed met with here and there in the 
 course of the music, but then they are attenuated, dis- 
 simulated, and unimportant; they are only to be found 
 clearly characterized, and well and prominently brought 
 forward, in the great finales. No composer has so spar- 
 ingly employed the perfect cadence ; there is, however, 
 one case in which he has made a very characteristic use 
 of it, and one which is so much the more striking be- 
 cause it seems to be reserved for this situation ; it is 
 when the words assert the specially loyal and chivalrous 
 side of a hero's character; the following page (251) 
 shows three remarkable examples, taken from different 
 works, of this beautiful and noble form, of a solemn and 
 heraldic character, which is very frequent with Wagner 
 in this special case and which may be called the formula 
 of loyalty, and is only found in moments of great emo- 
 tion, in the announcement of death (JValkure)and in the 
 Funeral March of Siegfried (Die Gotterddmmerung). 
 
 Generally speaking, consonant chords are much less 
 frequent than dissonant chords, and, moreover, they 
 rarely appear in their native purity, but almost always 
 modified by the artifices of composition, by retards,
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 251 
 
 (LOHENGRIN -Last Scene) 
 
 LOHENGRIN 
 
 SeinR.it- ter ich bin Lohenrjrin <j(Lnannl 
 His Knight am I, and Lohengrin my name 
 
 I 
 
 fe* 
 
 (DIE WALKURE-Act II. Scene IV, 
 BRUNNHiLDE 
 
 m 
 
 ^ Jj'lj 
 
 tcp 
 
 r — rr=? 
 
 -fdnqt dichhold mit hoch 
 hold thee long with high 
 
 - hei.ligeniGruss. 
 greeting and love
 
 25 2 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 appoggiaturas, and alterations, more especially many 
 alterations, which deprive them to a great extent of their 
 reposeful character. All that is intentional and logical. 
 It is certain that the dissonant chord with its notes or 
 contracted progression, and its various resolutions, is in- 
 finitely more vital and full of passion than the perfect 
 chord, which Wagner reserves for the expression of 
 calm and placid feelings, which are more rare in the 
 drama. 
 
 As for the harsh effects which sometimes astonish the 
 reader of the pianoforte score, they are considerably les- 
 sened bv the selection oi~ the instruments and the variety 
 of the timbres. They are more apparent than real ; 
 they disappear in the symphonic rendering, and at Bay- 
 reuth they are not in the least noticeable ; the whole 
 combination is admirably blended with an incomparable 
 softness, harmoniousness, and fulness, except in rare 
 cases, which are intended for picturesque effect. 
 
 The attention of the listener is attracted by the indi- 
 vidual movement of the parts, by their expressive char- 
 acter, by the interest which they gain from the suggestive 
 appearance of the Leit-motive, and by the diversity of the 
 tones t'\ the instruments, much more strongly than by 
 the individuality of the chords considered by themselves. 
 Each symphonic voice sings an independent part, having 
 its individual meaning, replying to the others, and always 
 appropriate to the nature and tone of the interpreting 
 instrument, without any traces of the idiotic set forms 
 of ordinary accompaniment, and without padding of any 
 kind. 
 
 Formerly people said that in Wagner there was no 
 melody ; I think I am more in the right in saying that 
 there are no accompaniments, but only melodies laid one 
 upon the other.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 253 
 
 For the sake of completeness let us further note the 
 total absence of harmonic progressions, which almost all 
 schools have now abandoned on account of their absurd- 
 ity ; the suppression of repetitions, or of the reprises of 
 a principal motiv announced by a rentr'ee, exactly as we 
 notice the suppression of all repetition of verses or words; 
 always and everywhere something new, invention, things 
 unexpected and ingenious, always creation, sincerity, and 
 life, and I think we shall have touched upon the prin- 
 cipal characteristics of what is called, a trifle too briefly, 
 the Wagnerian formula, a formula which cannot be too 
 much admired and examined, but which our composers 
 will do well not to imitate, and this for two reasons. 
 
 The first, quite sufficient in itself, is that it is impos- 
 sible : " To continue it in the true sense of the word, a man 
 of the sa?ne breadth and calibre is required ; and if this man 
 exists, he ivill not consent to play the role of an imitator : he 
 himself tvill ivish to invent something new." 1 
 
 The second is that it is necessary to belong to his 
 country and to speak his language. Now, just as Wag- 
 ner deplored the tendency of German musicians to 
 imitate French art in the following words : " / have 
 recognized in the French an admirable art of giving precise 
 and elegant forms to life and thought ; I have said, on the 
 contrary, that the Germans when they try to attain this 
 perfection of form seem to me to be heavy and weak" 2 so I 
 say to the French, in their turn, that they must guard 
 against that false kind of admiration which leads to 
 plagiarism ; they must keep intact the qualities proper 
 to our national style, which always have been and always 
 will be, in literature as in music, clearness, elegance, 
 and sincerity of expression. 
 
 1 La Musique et les Musiciens, p. 494. 
 
 * R.Wagner, Lettre d M. Monod (October 25, 1876).
 
 254 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 If Wagner were here to advise them, that is certainly 
 what his own logic would lead him to say. 
 
 Wagner's Orchestration is richer and fuller of 
 colour than Beethoven's. That certainly is largely the 
 result of the new instruments which he has introduced, 
 the cor-anglais, the bass-clarinet, the contra-bassoon, 
 trombones, 1 the family of tubas, and the bass trumpet; 2 
 partly also it is the result of the way in which he has 
 completed the group of wood-wind instruments, in writ- 
 ing three parts to the flute, three to the oboes, and three 
 to the clarinets, etc. (instead of two, which were gener- 
 ally used up to his time, except by Meyerbeer and 
 Berlioz), by which he is enabled to obtain a complete 
 chord in the same timbre*', partly, too, he owes it to 
 the frequent subdivision of the stringed-instruments; 
 but particularly and above all to his profound knowledge 
 of instrumentation and to his unparalleled ingenuity, 
 which has led him on to prodigious discoveries. 
 
 Wagner treats every instrument with the same cer- 
 tainty of touch as if he had played it himself; he knows, 
 as no one else knows, how to avail himself of its 
 resources, and he demands nothing of it beyond what 
 is entirel) within their capacity. He is often difficult to 
 play, but it is never an ungrateful task, for he is never 
 awkward nor clumsy. 
 
 Notwithstanding the large number of performers he 
 requires, we never see him have recourse to complicated 
 methods in his orchestration; the combinations are 
 always clear and simple, the result of which is a sonor- 
 
 thoven had already used the contra-bassoon and the trom- 
 bon< , l>ut only in exceptional cases. 
 
 - The bass-trumpet only figures in the Tetralogy. 
 • Organ-tone.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 255 
 
 ity which is at once plain and powerful. The Lett- 
 motive ceaselessly move about the whole orchestra, 
 passing from one desk to another ; but, nevertheless, 
 each one has a predilection for one instrument, or one 
 group, which harmonizes with its character, on which it 
 was first heard, and to which it returns to take up its 
 abode every time it must make itself heard with pre- 
 ponderating importance ; sometimes we recognize it from 
 its very first note by means of this characteristic timbre. 
 
 I think we now clearly see how, in Wagner's musical 
 style, everything combines, — melody, harmony, and 
 orchestration, in accentuating and determining the dra- 
 matic action : the melody, melopoeia, or measured recita- 
 tive, by its fine diction and the constant care given to 
 the excellence of its prosody ; the harmony, by its bold 
 methods and the employment of Lelt-motive ; and the 
 orchestration, by its unparalleled richness of colour. 
 
 Before commencing to analyze each work separately, 
 I would call the reader's attention to the purely sym- 
 phonic part which constitutes the Preludes, to which 
 Wagner has attached a special interest and a psycho- 
 logical character, of which, alas ! people at the opera 
 are entirely unconscious ; for if they were aware of his 
 intention, they probably would not take advantage of 
 this moment to talk more loudly than usual, to blow 
 their noses, and to slam the doors, etc., — they would 
 do all that beforehand as at Bayreuth. 
 
 Up to and including Tannhauser, Wagner followed 
 the usual custom of writing Overtures to his operas. 
 
 Beginning with Lohengrin, we find Preludes, and 
 every act has its own. 1 
 
 1 There is one single exception, the Overture to Die Mei ster singer \ 
 but Die Meistersinger is itself an exception in Wagner's work.
 
 256 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 In the Preludes, Wagner the philosopher addresses 
 himself directly to the soul by means of music; he puts 
 it through a kind of preparatory course and gets us into 
 the state of mind he desires, and this without ever 
 making these instrumental pieces of excessive length. 
 
 The essential aim of a Prelude, its raison d'etre, is to 
 prepare the spectator's mind and bring it into that state 
 which the author considers most favourable for the 
 reception in all its fulness of the impression to be pro- 
 duced by the coming act. This end may be attained in 
 at least four different ways : 
 
 1. By simply calming the mind, that is to say, by 
 freeing it from all exterior preoccupations, and endow- 
 ing it with perfect repose, so that it may become malle- 
 able and easily affected by the slightest emotion ; 
 
 2. By recalling to the spectator's mind the action 
 that has gone before and which he may have lost sight 
 of during the entr'acte, the recollection of which is neces- 
 sary for the perfect comprehension of what follows; 
 
 3. Inversely, by drawing in advance on the coming 
 act, so as to prepare the listener for the events which 
 arc about to take place, — in this case the action to 
 some extent begins during the Prelude;' 
 
 4. By rilling the mind with a vague sense* of mystery, 
 by exciting the curiositv and captivating the attention 
 with undecided harmonics, strange tones, and unex- 
 pected and even incoherent modulations, which give no 
 hint of what is coming next, — this is the most affect- 
 ing way, the one which best prepares the heart for 
 poignant emotions. 
 
 W agner uses all these forms according to circum- 
 stances ; without multiplying examples, I will give one 
 of each class, leaving to the reader the task of com- 
 pleting them :
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 257 
 
 First form : calm — Das Rheingold. 
 
 Second form : recalling motive — third act of Siegfried. 
 
 Third form : announcement of motive — second act 
 of Lohengrin. 
 
 Fourth form : vagueness — third act of Parsifal. 
 The third form, however, and next to that the second, 
 are by far the most frequent. 
 
 One very interesting point is the extraordinary insist- 
 ence with which Wagner establishes the tonality at the 
 beginning of many of his Preludes ; we should vainly 
 seek analogous examples in any other composer; it is 
 particularly in the Tetralogy, which is of gigantic pro- 
 portions throughout, that this system is found in the 
 most striking manner. 
 
 In Das Rheingold the first 136 bars are built upon one 
 single perfect chord in E-flat major; the Prelude of the 
 second scene for 15 bars only contains perfect chords of 
 the fundamental tone belonging to the key of D-flat, or 
 related keys and leading into the key of the dominant ; 
 the second scene is linked to the third by means of a 
 pedal of the dominant on F, first in the bass, then in 
 the treble, which is kept up for 55 bars. 
 
 In the first act of Die Walkure the tonality is estab- 
 lished by the treble pedal of the tonic, which lasts for 
 64 bars, after which it is still long before we leave the 
 key of D. In the third act the predominance of the 
 key of B-minor, contrasted with the dominant F-sharp, 
 is accented and maintained for 34 bars till the rising of 
 the curtain. 
 
 In the first act of Siegfried there is a long bass pedal of 
 the dominant on the note F for 50 bars, which becomes 
 a treble pedal for 33 bars more, and which is succeeded 
 by a pedal of the tonic of 12 bars on B-flat. That is 
 Wagner's way of thoroughlv establishing the tonality. 
 
 17
 
 258 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 In the third act of Gbtterd'dmmerung it is still more 
 strongly marked, for the key of F is not departed from 
 for 149 bars, including not only the Prelude, but also 
 the Trio of the Undines which follows. 
 
 Need I still cite the Prelude to the first act of Parsifal, 
 which, with the exception of a few bars, scarcely leaves 
 the key of A-rlat ? 
 
 Outside the Preludes, long and imposing holds are also 
 sufficiently frequent ; the theme of the Rainbow, almost 
 at the end of Das Rheingold, has a perfect chord on G-flat, 
 which is sustained for 20 bars in a slow movement ; in 
 Lohengrin the long flourish of trumpets which salutes the 
 rising of the sun in Act II., Scene III., contains no less 
 than 58 bars, augmented by holds on the one perfect major 
 chord of A, to which immediately succeed (with one single 
 transitorv chord), 15 bars on the perfect chord of C 
 major. We might multiply these interesting examples, 
 which demonstrate that it is especially at the beginning 
 of the acts and scenes that Wagner likes to establish 
 thoroughly the tonality, unlike Beethoven who much 
 preferred strongly to re-establish it at the final pero- 
 ration. 
 
 The Ensembles are rare, except in Tannhduser and 
 
 Lohengrin, which still partake, particularly in this feature, 
 of the form of the opera. 
 
 From Tristan onwards, with the exception of Die 
 Meister singer, where they play a considerable part, they 
 may be easily counted. 
 
 In the- Duct which ends the first act of Tristan there 
 is one ensemble of 42 bars; the great Duet of Act II., 
 
 ne II., is made up of four ensembles, which are all 
 admirable, the first beginning with a dialogue, becoming 
 more and more close, the last containing very curious
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 259 
 
 dissonances, as dreadful to look at in the score as they 
 are sweet to listen to. 
 
 In Das Rbeingold there are the nymphs' cries of joy 
 and the Adoration of the Gold; in Scene III., Wotan and 
 Loge speak several words together ; in Die IValkiire, the 
 vocal Octet of the Ride of the IValkyries, the eight pails 
 of which are sometimes independent ; in Siegfried the 
 few simultaneous notes of Mime and Siegfried at the end 
 of the first act can scarcely be considered in this light ; 
 but in the third act, at the moment of Briinnhilde's 
 awaking, there is a true ensemble of a dozen bars, and 
 then another, more developed, which ends the piece; in 
 Gotterddmmerung the Norns sing together for a moment, 
 but in unison ; then Siegfried and Briinnhilde end their 
 Duet with a few exclamations in thirds and sixths ; 
 there is another ensemble of a few bars when Siegfried 
 and Gunther conclude their pact, cup in hand ; at the 
 end of the second act there is a true Trio between 
 Briinnhilde, Gunther, and Hagen ; in the third act is 
 the delightful Trio of the Rhine-Daughters, which is 
 fully developed, and becomes a Ouartet on Siegfried's 
 arrival. 
 
 In Parsifal there is not a single one. In this enume- 
 ration it will be noticed that ensembles never occur ex- 
 cept between characters who have analogous sentiments. 
 Everywhere else each one speaks in his turn, as in the 
 classic tragedv, which is far more intelligent, and with- 
 out repeating the verses, which is far more natural and 
 lifelike. 
 
 Little is known of Wagner's Manner of Compos- 
 ing. It is certain that he first wrote his poem and did 
 not begin to set it to music until it was completely fin- 
 ished, sometimes even after having let it lie untouched
 
 2 6o THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 for several years : the poem of Tannhauser was finished 
 in 1843, and the music in 1845 ; the poem of" Das Rheln- 
 gold was finished in 1852, and the music in 1854. 
 
 As for the music, he composed it as Beethoven did, 
 walking about and gesticulating; when it began to take 
 form, he played it on the piano, awkwardly enough, it 
 is said, but so as to impress the outline clearly on his 
 memory, not till then did he begin to write it out. 
 He wrote on two or three staves, as if for the piano 
 or organ, sometimes also he would write on a larger 
 number, and he did not proceed to the orchestration 
 until he had completed the composition. Gbtterdam- 
 tnerung was finished in 1872, and its orchestration in 
 1874; Parsifal was finished in 1879, and its orchestra- 
 tion in 1882. 
 
 Moreover, he always kept several works before him, 
 generally two, working simultaneously on the music of 
 one and the scenario of the other. 
 
 All this is very perplexing, for when we closely exam- 
 ine his work, everything, poem, lyrical declamation, 
 melodic and harmonic structure, and orchestration, form 
 only one homogeneous whole, and so perfect is the co- 
 hesion of all these parts that it seems as if the whole 
 work must have flowed in one stream, the music blend- 
 ing naturally with the words and necessarily entailing 
 the instrumental combinations which could not be other 
 than they are, so completely do they realize the ideal of 
 perfection. That is a mistake, however; the labour 
 was much more complex, and the growth much slower: 
 the first sketch of Die Meistersinger, which was finished 
 in 1867, dates back to 1845 ( an interval of twenty-two 
 years); the first sketch of Parsifal, finished in 1882, 
 dates from 1857 (twenty-five years); it was The Spell 
 t ' I I . / riday.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 261 
 
 In the necessarily brief and dry Analyses, which fol- 
 low, of each of the admirable works performed at Bay- 
 reuth, I do not pretend to catalogue all the Leit-motive. 
 
 For this there are several reasons: First, I think that 
 no one could boast of not letting one escape him, for 
 there are some which consist of only two notes, appear- 
 ing only two or three times; besides, there is nothing to 
 prove that Wagner himself considered them as such; 
 they are, perhaps, simple, involuntary, and purely genial 
 reminiscences, or similar notes unintentionally reproduced 
 under similar circumstances. 
 
 Moreover, there already exist very complete catalogues 
 of this nature, perhaps too complete ; there are some 
 which are very well compiled, and these I will mention. 
 
 But the principal reason is that it would have seemed 
 to me to be going beyond the purpose of this book, which 
 is simply a guide for the uninitiated, and I think it pre- 
 ferable for them to be well acquainted with a limited 
 number of themes which they will unhesitatingly recog- 
 nize, than a greater number which often occasion re- 
 grettable confusion. However, in addition to the principal 
 themes, I shall never neglect to point out those, which, 
 although secondary, have a real importance and are fre- 
 quently repeated. Those who wish to extend their re- 
 searches farther and to go deeper into a work, may 
 always do so with the aid of the catalogues of which I 
 have already spoken. 
 
 Applying here to the Leit-motive the same process 
 which I have employed for the characters in the analysis 
 of the poems, I place at the head of each musical analysis 
 a table and synopsis of the various scenes in which the 
 same mot'iv appears. 
 
 However, it is necessary to remember : First, that 
 these tables only contain the most important motive;
 
 262 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 second, that I mention only the appearances of these 
 important motive that are very clearly marked; third, 
 that the scores which are adapted to the pianoforte 1 
 cannot always and everywhere show all the inotive con- 
 tained in the orchestral score. Such as they are, I 
 believe these tables will be instructive and will facilitate 
 research. 
 
 In them one may instantaneously judge of the relative 
 importance of the motive, by the frequency of their em- 
 ployment, the great essential motive running through the 
 whole table, and the motive which are simply episodical, 
 only figuring in two or three neighbouring columns ; in 
 them, too, may be seen in what scenes a given motiv 
 has already appeared ; what are the motive which form 
 the framework of such or such a scene, etc. By com- 
 paring the various tables relating to the works of different 
 periods, we can see to some extent the method gradually 
 form, the employment of Leit-motive, purely accessory 
 in Tannhduscr, becoming already considerable in Lohen- 
 grin, and then from Tristan onwards, absolutely sys- 
 tematic and organized. 
 
 In the analyses, as in the tables, the themes will be 
 presented in the order of their first appearance, follow- 
 ing the course of the drama, which will allow of their 
 being discovered without difficulty by attentively follow- 
 ing the score without ever having to turn back. The 
 portions <>f the text between [ ] and the examples 
 
 1 The most complete and faithful arrangements of Tristan, Die 
 Meister singer, the Tetralogy, and Parsifal are those of Klind worth, 
 whose work is only for virtuosi 5 amateurs will be more at their 
 with the sometimes incorrect adaptation of Kleinmichel. It is 
 from the latter edition that we have borrowed, with the authoriza- 
 tion of the houses of Schott and Co. and Breitkopf and Hartel, the 
 majority of the examples in this volume. MM. Durand et Fils 
 have given me a similar permission concerning the scores of Tann- 
 and Lohengrin.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 263 
 
 printed in small characters concern certain transforma- 
 tions of the motive which seemed to me specially inter- 
 esting and worthy of notice, as I could not think of 
 pointing them all out. These modifications only occur 
 in acts or scenes that follow ; their precise place will 
 always be mentioned. 
 
 Besides the Lelt-motive, I shall also mention in several 
 of the works certain great phrases of an independent 
 character forming a complete whole of themselves, a 
 finished melody to which it is necessary to pay attention ; 
 also Chorals and Songs, sometimes foreign to the general 
 structure, at other times indirectly related to it, several 
 of which have received special names. 
 
 As far as concerns the names, which are the least 
 important thing, I repeat that I shall always give the 
 preference to those under which the typical motive seem 
 to me to be most generally known. 
 
 TANNHAUSER 
 
 Although Wagner has called Tannhduser u Handlung" 
 (action), thus showing his intention to create a new 
 dramatico-musical form, it is quite certain that from 
 its general form, with ensembles, airs, duets, finales, and 
 Overture, this work is still musically connected with the 
 methods of the old opera, and that we often find in it 
 the influence of Wagner's openly-professed admiration 
 for Weber. Let us even say that it is an Opera in the 
 full sense of the word. Nevertheless Wagner is already 
 visible here by a marked tendency to avoid the repetition 
 of words, by the skill with which the various parts are 
 bound together, by the beauty and purity of the diction, 
 and especially, perhaps, by the absence of all idea of 
 concession to public taste. We also find here bold
 
 264 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 flights and melodic forms which arc very characteristic 
 of Wagner. 
 
 N \mi:s 
 
 of the principal Leit-motive 
 
 in TANNHAUSER 
 
 in the order of their 
 
 tir-.t appearance. 
 
 SCENES : 
 
 5 
 
 ACT 
 I. 
 
 - 
 - : 
 
 - 
 
 ACT 
 
 II. 
 
 
 ACT 
 III. 
 
 1 
 
 2 
 
 3 
 
 4 
 
 1 
 
 2 
 
 3 4 
 
 5 
 
 1 
 
 2 
 
 3 
 
 4 IS 
 
 The Venusberg 
 
 • 
 
 9 
 
 
 • 
 
 © 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 
 • 
 • 
 
 
 • 
 
 tli 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 The Overture is a condensed summary of the drama. 
 
 In the first place appears the famous Pilgrims' Chorus, 1 
 representing the religious element ; it is first presented 
 with an impressive gravity, and then is majestically de- 
 \ eloped in a persistent figure on the violins, and it dies 
 away as it departs. Without transition, the mot'w of the 
 / enusberg transports us to the abode of luxury and 
 unholy pleasures. 
 
 THE VENUSBERG 
 
 [In a style which at the same time recalls Weber when fan- 
 tastic and Mendelssohn when fairy-like, this figure has the char- 
 
 1 I consider it superfluous to note here the music of the themes 
 having an independent character, which are in the memory of 
 every one, and arc in such rich abundance in Tannhduser.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 265 
 
 acter of a Leit-motiv, for we shall again find it in the scene of 
 the Contest (Act II., Scene V.), each time that Tannhauser is 
 about to speak, thus disclosing in advance his state of mind ; 
 then again in Act III., at the end of Scene IV., where it an- 
 nounces the coming of Venus.] 
 
 A little farther on, the Hymn to Venus bursts out like 
 a trumpet-call, first in B major ; then, after some beau- 
 tiful symphonic developments in the principal key in E 
 major, a long pedal on the dominant brings back the 
 Pilgr'uns'' Chorus, which is soon accompanied by the 
 strident passage on the violins, and the Overture ends 
 with a great and brilliant finale. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 At the rising of the curtain we hear, as though framed 
 in a Baccanale, which reproduces the majority of the pro- 
 fane motive of the Overture, a Dance of the Bacchantes, a 
 Chorus of Sirens, and then the grand Duet between Tann- 
 hauser and Venus, in which appears three times, and each 
 time a half-tone higher (in D-flat, in D, and in E-flat), 
 the Hymn to Venus, already heard in the Overture. 
 This scene, constantly increasing in intensity, has a very 
 striking effect. 
 
 In the second tableau a shepherd plays upon his pipe, 
 and trills an air of archaic character, to which is imme- 
 diately linked the Pilgrims' Chorus in the form of a 
 choral, while the rustic strains still continue to sound in 
 capricious arabesques. 
 
 THE PILGRIMS' CHORUS 
 Tenors
 
 266 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 [It will reappear in the orchestra at the beginning of the 
 impressive phrase of the Landgrave, which appears in the finale 
 of Act II., as again at the end of that same act.] 
 
 It is only separated by a hunting-call from the Septet, 
 which itself is interrupted when Wolfram pronounces 
 the name of Eli%abetb, which Tannhauser repeats in 
 ecstasy. 
 
 ELIZABETH 
 
 Wolfram 
 
 Tannhauser 
 
 [A similar arrangement occurs at the beginning of the finale 
 of Act III., when the same characters evoke the memory of 
 Elizabeth, whose funeral procession is passing.] 
 
 Finally the Septet is resumed and ends with a fine 
 ensemble. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 After a short entracte the second act begins with an 
 Air by Elizabeth, preceded by a recitative; here again 
 we find a suggestion of Weber : then comes a Duet in 
 the ordinary form between Tannhauser and Elizabeth, 
 and a recitative between the Landgrave and his niece, 
 and then the March with chorus, announcing the 
 Singing-Contest. At the beginning of this scene of the 
 Contest, Wolfram sings of love in a beautiful but cold 
 song which occasions a lively discussion between Tann- 
 hauser, Walter, and Biterolf ; here occurs the beautiful
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 267 
 
 Song of JVolfram, a melody of great breadth and warmth, 
 and of a noble and pure form, which extols chaste and 
 respectful love. 
 
 SONG OF WOLFRAM 
 
 Wolfram 
 
 'U 
 
 u- : — 
 
 *— 
 
 f 
 
 V 
 
 . r 
 
 » 
 
 
 h 
 
 rnJ -n 
 
 
 -- j^-j — ' 
 
 --y= 3 
 
 ±Y — - — * 
 p 
 
 
 
 -0 
 
 
 mfVt 
 
 
 
 
 
 — 1 1 
 
 It is not in this light that Tannhauser regards it; 
 he disputes it, and each of his replies, as we have 
 alreadv noticed, is preceded by a recurrence of the 
 Venusberg.
 
 268 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 Biterolf speaks in turn, and challenges him ; before 
 Tannhauser's disdainful reply, the same motiv appears 
 for the third time. 
 
 Finally, Tannhauser, at the highest pitch of exalta- 
 tion, for the last time sings his Hymn to Venus? again a 
 semitone higher than before (in E major), and the act 
 ends with a powerful ensemble, full of movement and 
 Je\ eloped at great length. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 This act is certainly the most beautiful one in the 
 whole work. A very impressive entr'acte, which it 
 would be better to call a Prelude, precedes it, containing, 
 in the course of its development, reminiscences of the 
 Pilgrims* Chorus and the announcement of the theme of 
 The Damnation, which does not appear until later. 
 
 The Pilgrims, returning from Rome, gratefully sing 
 the chorus with which the Overture has already made 
 us acquainted ; Elizabeth breathes a tender Prayer, and 
 slowly mounts the hill, as if in a trance, followed by 
 WOlfram's glance, which is sadly accented by the motiv 
 of the Song of Wolfram, now confided to the bass-clarinet. 
 I hen the latter, after a passage of great breadth, sings 
 the celebrated Romance of the Star. 
 
 Immediately, on the entrance of Tannhauser, every- 
 thing darkens, and the gloomy and terrifying theme of 
 The Damnation is heard, 
 
 1 These frequent repetitions of the Hymn to Venus make it the 
 principal and dominating motiv of the work, but it never becomes 
 a Leit-motiv, for it is only heard from Tannhriuser's own lips, and 
 is always sung in extenso. It occurs also in the Overture, but, 
 during the curse of tin- work, it never gives rise to any symphonic 
 allusion, or any insinuation, as is the mission of the Leit-motive.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 269 
 
 THE DAMNATION 
 A A 
 
 and, after a short dialogue with Wolfram, Tannhauser 
 begins the touching story of his journey to Rome, in the 
 course of which The Damnation is again heard. This 
 story, one of the most beautiful pages in the work, 
 is stamped with the most heart-rending despair and the 
 most poignant emotion. Suddenly the mysterious or- 
 chestra, whose tones seem to spring from the heart of 
 the mountain, persistently repeating fragments of the 
 Venusberg motiv, announces the coming of Venus, ac- 
 cented by an ingenious reminiscence of the Chorus of 
 Sirens. 
 
 Tannhauser is beginning to falter again and allow 
 himself to be carried oft, when in the distance are heard 
 the voices of the Pilgrims, bearing Elizabeth's body. 
 Tannhauser prostrates himself upon her bier and dies. 
 He is saved ! 
 
 Then all the voices united intone a great hymn of 
 faith and hope, a marvellous and majestic epilogue, 
 which rises as a sort of joyous and triumphant Alleluia, 
 reaching its splendid final development on the first bars 
 of the religious theme of the Overture, and leaving us 
 under the consoling influence of the great act of Re- 
 demption, which has just been accomplished before our 
 eyes.
 
 270 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 There arc also in the score certain forms, sometimes 
 melodic, sometimes harmonic, which may be considered 
 as Leit-motive of a secondary or episodical order, as, for 
 example, the Song of the Sirens in Act I., 
 
 SONG OF THE SIRENS 
 
 fr-j n 
 
 which in the third act accompanies the appearance or 
 Venus; the second phrase of the Pilgrims' Chorus, which is 
 
 FRAGMENT OF THE PILGRIMS' CHORUS 
 
 found again in their Chant in the form of a choral, and 
 then at the 27th bar of the entr'acte of the third act 
 after having already appeared in the Overture, and which 
 W agner will again use later in Parsifal ; finally, the
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 271 
 
 beautiful harmony, 1 Pardon, which runs through the 
 whole story of the journey to Rome, and which already 
 
 MOTIV OF PARDON 
 8 
 
 I 
 
 bs 
 
 m 
 
 e 
 
 iJi 
 
 I 
 
 ^ 
 
 a a 
 
 m 
 
 EfME 
 
 §=£ 
 
 $ 
 
 fcg 
 
 m 
 
 J=^ 
 
 
 m 
 
 ?j^# 
 
 =©3: 
 
 possessed great importance in the preceding entr'acte, and 
 perhaps others. 
 
 With regard to melodic reiteration, the following 
 phrase by Venus in the Duet of the first act, which 
 
 Elizabeth 
 
 intentionally recurs (in the key of E-flat,) towards the 
 middle of the entr'acte preceding the second act ; also 
 the following, 
 
 Wolfram 
 
 sung by Wolfram in the Septet, shortly after the motiv 
 Elizabeth, reproduced in the orchestra during the address 
 
 1 This beautiful harmony, by its impressive solemnity, is very 
 similar in character to certain motive in Parsifal, notably Faith-
 
 2J2 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 which the Landgrave makes to the singers after the 
 March, and, perhaps, some others. 
 
 LOHENGRIN 
 
 NAMES 
 
 of the principal Leit-motive in 
 
 LOHENGRIN 
 
 in the order of their first 
 
 appearance. 
 
 SCENES : 
 
 9 
 u 
 
 ACT 
 I. 
 
 p 
 
 z 
 
 -5 
 
 z 
 
 ACT 
 II. 
 
 1 
 c 
 
 o 
 
 — 
 c 
 
 ACT 
 III. 
 
 i 
 
 2 
 
 3 
 
 I 2 
 
 I 
 
 3 
 
 4 
 
 5 
 
 ■ 
 
 2 
 
 3 
 
 The Grail 
 
 Elsa 
 
 • 
 
 •• 
 
 
 
 ;; 
 
 •• 
 
 • 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 • 
 
 • 
 • 
 
 • 
 • 
 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 
 
 . . 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 
 
 
 • ' * 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 The Dark Plots 
 
 
 
 
 The Doubt 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 I he Prelude of Lohengrin takes us into the sacred 
 regions of Montsalvat. One single moth, wonderfully 
 ilc\ eloped, bears the whole burden ; it symbolizes The 
 Grail. 
 
 THE GRAIL
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 2 73 
 
 In fact, as Wagner has himself told us, this introduc- 
 tion is intended to describe the return of the Holy Grail 
 to the mountain of the pious knights, in the midst of a 
 band of angels. 
 
 This mysterious motiv first appears in the upper 
 regions of the divided violins, then passes to the wood- 
 wind, thence to the violas, violoncellos, clarinets, horns, 
 and bassoons, bursts forth on the trumpets and trombones, 
 and then, after this prodigious crescendo, gradually fades 
 away and dies in the glow of the muted violins, leaving 
 behind a glimpse of supernatural radiance, which is like 
 a foretaste of Parsifal. 1 
 
 Act I. 
 
 The trumpets and the Herald proclaim The King's Call. 
 After a noble recitative by the King, broken by several 
 replies by the chorus, comes Frederick's denunciation of 
 Elsa. 
 
 There is a fresh call by the Herald, and then Elsa 
 
 1 We must not be at all surprised thus to come across germs in 
 Tannhauser and Lohengrin which, after being cultivated, developed 
 many years later into Parsifal, the nuonder of 'wonders. It was in 
 this way that Wagner formed his own language ; he always embod- 
 ied a philosophical thought either in a melodic figure or in a harmonic 
 or rhythmic form, the expression of which, given identical cases, 
 continues throughout all his works , and by studying him many 
 analogous facts may be noticed. 
 
 18
 
 2"4 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 enters ; at this moment in the orchestra is heard the 
 following motiv, 
 
 ELSA 
 
 full of hope and resignation, which will remain personally 
 attached to her. 
 
 [It will besides be almost immediately reproduced in a 
 slightly modified form in the story which Elsa relates of her 
 dream.] 
 
 Elsa 
 
 In this same passage, which from its first entrance is 
 placed as if under the protection of The Grail, appears a
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 275 
 
 new and sparkling theme, representing Lohengrin^ clad in 
 his white silver armour as she has seen him in her dream, 
 and as we ourselves shall soon see him. 
 
 LOHENGRIN 
 
 [This motiv, so characteristic, graceful, bold, and chivalrous, 
 will accompany the valiant knight in all heroic circumstances, 
 with slight transformations. 
 
 We shall find it up to the last page of the work, to the 
 moment when Lohengrin departs ; but there, after having been 
 presented in the triumphal form usual to it, it puts on mourn- 
 ing, it borrows the minor key.]
 
 2-6 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 It is also during the recital of Elsas Dream that for the 
 first time we hear this other motiv, in some measure 
 complementary to that of Lohengrin, whose Glory it 
 seems to proclaim and whose great deeds it celebrates. 
 
 GLORY 
 
 pi 
 
 $m 
 
 m 
 
 £H£3 
 
 ii 
 
 [This will be found again in the following scene on the 
 hcn/s arrival and also in the final scene of the third act.] 
 
 f^fr fffrfi frte 
 
 f>H- Jhl IJIP I 
 
 s 
 
 Frederick maintaining his calumnious accusation, the 
 King proposes The Judgment of God * 
 
 THE JUDGMENT OF GOD 
 
 1 Notice the analogy with The Treaty in Der Ring des Nibe> 
 lunge n.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 277 
 
 the motiv of which is soon followed by that of Elsa. 
 The Herald and his four trumpeters sound two successive 
 calls. Elsa kneels in prayer, accompanied by a chorus 
 of women, and her prayer ends with a touching reminis- 
 cence of her own motiv. It is then that Lohengrin 
 appears in the distance in a boat drawn by a swan ; the 
 orchestra sounds the motive of Lohengrin and Glory t which 
 have assumed a character of special pomp and impres- 
 siveness. A fine vocal ensemble hails his arrival. 
 
 Hardly has he landed, when he blesses and takes leave 
 of his Swan, 
 
 THE SWAN 
 
 which is preceded by The Grail again. The latter is 
 repeated, when, after having saluted the King, he 
 addresses Elsa and informs her that he cannot undertake 
 her defence except on the express condition that she 
 shall never know his name and shall not even seek to 
 know it. 
 
 Here follows the theme, at once strange and impres- 
 sive, The Mystery of the Name, which forms a part of the 
 fine entrance recitative of Lohengrin and which he twice 
 repeats with insistence, the second time in a higher kev, 
 which gives it more force. 
 
 The ensemble is heard again, and then follows the 
 superb scene of the combat, the laws of which are first
 
 2j8 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 THE MYSTERY OF THE NAME 
 Lohengrin 
 
 proclaimed by the Herald, which brings back The Judg- 
 ment of God; next comes a fine ensemble passage: the 
 Kings Prayer and Quintet with chorus. The combat 
 begins; at each attack of either adversary the theme of 
 Judgment of God, treated in canon, makes a fresh 
 entree ; the niotiv of Lohengrin, however, takes its place 
 when he is about to strike the decisive blow. 
 
 A beautiful enthusiastic phrase by Elsa hails his vic- 
 tory ; this same phrase is next taken up bv the chorus, but 
 with a new development drawn from the motiv of Glory. 
 I his errand and powerful ensemble, greatly extended, 
 brilliantly crowns the act ; then, at the moment when 
 the curtain is about to fall, the orchestra again sounds 
 the motiv of Lohengrin.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 279 
 
 Act II. 
 
 The second act will only reveal two new typical 
 motive, both contained in the dark phrase which mutters 
 on the violoncellos at the beginning of the Prelude. 
 First, Ortrude's Dark Plots, represented thus : 
 
 THE DARK PLOTS 
 
 [This moth will reappear, particularly in the course of the 
 dialogue between Ortrude and Frederick, which opens the act. J 
 
 Ortrude 
 
 The second, characterizing The Doubt with which 
 Ortrude wants to fill Elsa's mind, the doubt which will 
 be her ruin, is given in the same dialogue by the violon- 
 cellos, ten bars after its commencement
 
 28c 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 THE DOUBT 
 
 [And here it is again as we find it a few pages farther on in 
 the same long dialogue, mingled with significant reminiscences of 
 The Mystery of the Name.~\ 
 
 Frederick 
 
 Ortrude 
 
 It is impossible to tell more clearly in music that 
 Ortrude intends perfidiously to fill Elsa's heart with 
 doubts regarding the purity and origin of her knight, 
 and wants to inspire her with the curiosity to penetrate 
 the mystery in which he insists on shrouding his name. 
 
 When we understand its inner meaning, this sombre 
 and dark episode- constitutes one of the most beautiful 
 pages of the work. It ends with a terrible phrase of
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 281 
 
 imprecation, sung in octaves by the two voices, which 
 seals their odious pact of revenge. 
 
 Elsa appears and sings a sweet melody ; in the second 
 part of her duet with Ortrude we recognize in the 
 orchestra the motiv of The Doubt, immediately followed 
 by The Mystery of the Name ; the dark plots are being 
 accomplished; the venom has been instilled and will 
 perform its work. 
 
 The day breaks. Long trumpet-calls are heard an- 
 swering in turn on the chord D, F-sharp, A ; then, when 
 suddenly the key of C succeeds it, we hear The Kings 
 Call. Immediately afterwards the key of D reappears, 
 — a daring proceeding, with a most striking effect. In 
 this scene, as in those which follow : Elsa going to the 
 church, Ortrude's scandalous interference, and the arrival 
 of the King and Lohengrin, there is no use made of Leit- 
 motive until Scene V., which opens with The Kings Call, 
 immediately followed by the motiv Lohengrin ; then, when 
 Frederick tries to attribute the victory of his adversary 
 to trickery or magic, notice a reappearance of The 'Judg- 
 ment of God, which he dares to question. 
 
 Finally there reappear in the orchestra in succession, 
 The Doubt, The Mystery of the Name, and The Dark Plots ,• 
 then, at the moment when the King is about to cross 
 the threshold of the church with Elsa and Lohengrin, 
 we again hear The King's Call, immediately followed by 
 The Mystery of the Na?ne, and the curtain falls. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 The third act adds nothing to the list of typical mo- 
 tive, but all the former ones are freely used in it, though 
 not at the beginning. 
 
 First, as an introduction, we find the splendid Wed- 
 ding March, as joyous as it is pompous, followed from
 
 282 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 the first rising of the curtain by a charming Chorus, a 
 graceful epithalamium ; then comes the Duet between 
 Elsa and Lohengrin ; in this, shortly after a fine phrase 
 bv Lohengrin and just as Elsa manifests her culpable 
 curiosity, The Mystery of the Name is twice repeated ; 
 the motiv of The Doubt comes into play, always more 
 and more insistent ; then a short allusion to the Swan, 
 which Elsa thinks she sees, or pretends she thinks so ; 
 finally, when she has put the fatal question, The Mystery 
 of the Name furiously breaks out ; when Lohengrin has 
 just killed Frederick The Doubt still exists; the body is 
 carried out to the strains of The Judgment of God ; Lo- 
 hengrin announces to Elsa that he is going to declare 
 who he is before everybody, and again sounds The 
 Mystery of the Name, this time followed by The Grail! 
 Is this sufficiently explicit ? 
 
 And when, in the last tableau, Elsa appears before the 
 King, the Nobles, and the Warriors, it is again by The 
 Mystery of the Name, which she has violated, that she 
 is announced ; this time it is rendered gloomy, and is 
 directly joined to the fatal Doubt ; the motiv of Elsa is 
 the third to appear and ends in the minor; it seems 
 to be as humiliated as herself. When the remains of 
 Frederick are brought before the King, The Judgment of 
 God reminds us that it is God who has struck him ; when 
 Lohengrin, in a most touching recital, relates the splen- 
 dours of Montsalvat, The Grail reveals its mysteries; 
 and finally, when he pronounces his own name, Lohen- 
 grin is again proclaimed by the most startling trumpet 
 notes, and immediately the orchestra sobers down. 
 
 The rest is short. Lohengrin is about to depart ; 
 notwithstanding the supplications of Elsa, the King, and 
 the Lords, he is inflexible : it must be. The Sivan 
 reappears, with its sweet and calm harmony; the Knight
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 283 
 
 bids a tender farewell to Elsa, gives her his horn, his 
 swore, and his ring, kisses her brow, and sets foot in 
 the boat : here there are no Leit-motive. But in the 
 last pages, after Ortrude's odious malediction, when the 
 white dove comes to hover above the head of the hero, 
 we hear, more solemnly than ever, the theme of The 
 Grail, then also with great breadth that of Lohengrin 
 united with Glory; Lohengrin having disappeared, the 
 same theme occurs in the minor; and, finally, the work 
 ends, as it began, with the sacred harmony of The Grail. 
 
 TRISTAN UND ISOLDE 
 
 The Prelude to the first act of Tristan una 1 Isolde is 
 
 almost built up of the seven most important motive, 
 
 making us feel from the first the predominance of the 
 
 chromatic manner which will prevail through the greater 
 
 part of this work, and which motive are thus presented 
 
 from the very beginning. First comes The Confession of 
 
 Love. 
 
 ' CONFESSION OF LOVE 
 
 V? 
 
 [which will be found again in Scene V. (at the moment when 
 Isolde drinks to Tristan), under the following form :] 
 
 Isolde
 
 284 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 TRISTAN UND ISOLDE 
 
 N VMES 
 of llie principal Lett-motive in 
 
 TRISTAN UND ISOLDE 
 
 in the order of their first 
 
 appearance. 
 
 SCENES : 
 
 ■0 
 
 ACT 
 
 I. 
 
 c 
 
 c 
 c 
 
 ACT 
 II. 
 
 — 
 
 ACT 
 III. 
 
 1 
 
 2 
 
 3 
 
 4 5 
 
 123 
 
 1 2 
 
 3 
 
 
 • 
 © 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 O 
 
 • 
 • 
 
 • 
 • 
 
 © 
 
 
 
 • 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 
 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 
 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 
 9 
 
 
 
 9 
 9 
 
 9 
 
 9 
 
 • 
 • 
 
 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 
 
 • 
 
 * 
 
 
 * 
 
 • 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • 
 9 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 e 
 
 
 i 
 •2 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 O 
 t 
 
 
 
 « 
 
 
 
 
 3 
 
 
 * 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 O 
 
 O 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 e 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 285 
 
 but which in the Prelude is constantly followed by this 
 other motiv, Desire^ which completes its harmonic sense 
 
 DESIRE 
 
 and gives us the impression of a sad and painful note of 
 interrogation, four times repeated with long and affecting 
 rests. 
 
 [Frequent employment of this motiv occurs in the course of this 
 work under the most varied forms.] 
 
 espressivo 
 
 Immediately afterwards appears a new theme eloquently 
 expressing that the mutual passion of Tristan and Isolde 
 has had as its first cause and origin the meeting of their 
 eyes ; this is The Glance. 
 
 THE GLANCE 
 
 1 Observe a certain analogy with the motiv of Fate in Der Ring 
 des Nibelungen.
 
 286 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 [Moreover, this theme of The Glance will often be met with, 
 more or less modified, in the course of the work ; I have given 
 below an interesting form of it which is found at the 133rd 
 bar of Scene III. (Kleinmichel's edition, p. 32, 2nd bar).] 
 
 Isolde
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 287 
 
 Continuing the analysis of the Prelude, in which this 
 mot'iv of The Glance is the subject of numerous and im- 
 portant developments, so that at certain times it even 
 assumes the preponderance, we shall meet in the space 
 of four bars with two very expressive phrases, character- 
 izing the two philtres of love and of death, the substitution 
 of which is, as it were, the nucleus of the action : The 
 Love Philtre and The Death Potion, the first full of poetry 
 
 iE LOVE PHILTRE 
 
 THE DEATH POTION 
 
 and passion, the second forming a sinister and gloomy 
 contrast, which the instrumentation still further empha- 
 sizes by confiding it sometimes to the big brass and some- 
 times to the bass-clarinet and oboes. 
 
 [The latter will again appear at the end of Scene III. at 
 the moment when Brangane is looking for the flasks in the 
 casket.]
 
 2 88 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 Isolde 
 
 $m 
 
 ~ '' '' - 
 
 *? 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 
 
 ^^35 
 
 
 — 4r\ ' 
 
 J « * • 
 
 1 ■ 3 X 
 
 
 ■J- 
 
 )r&. 
 
 pp . 
 
 
 P 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ^5- • 
 
 Now comes the motiv which may be considered as 
 derived from that of The Glance, to which is attached the 
 idea of this precious casket of relief, The Magic Casket : 
 
 THE MAGIC CASKET 
 dolce 
 
 [a motiv which will necessarily find its use when recourse is had 
 to the casket (in Scene HI.), or when any allusion is made 
 to it]. 
 
 Brangane 
 
 I Inn, following a superb crescendo which is con- 
 structed principally of the motiv of The Glance, is intro- 
 duced the theme of The Deliverance by Death, the last 
 of those introduced to us in the Prelude, which finally
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 289 
 
 ends with new combinations of the Leit-motive already 
 mentioned. 
 
 THE DELIVERANCE BY DEATH 
 
 [On the subject of the motiv of The Deliverance, let us 
 observe that it often undergoes radical changes ; thus, when we 
 find it at the beginning of Act III., Scene II., it has assumed the 
 following form :] 
 
 Tristan 
 
 Act I. 
 
 Scene I. — The song of the young sailor perched on 
 the mast is not in itself a Leit-motiv; but his third 
 phrase, The Sea, does constitute one, which will be fre- 
 
 A young sailor 
 
 THE SEA 
 
 quently employed and will undergo the most curious 
 transformations. Here, almost at the beginning of Scene 
 I., is Isolde in disgust at having to make this voyage 
 
 19
 
 290 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 Isolde 
 
 across The Sea, the object of which is not pleasing to 
 her ; some pages further on (when the key of F arrives), 
 it represents the phlegm and indifference of the sailors 
 during a long and uneventful passage; it is the calm of 
 The Sea : 
 
 %j r r"Tl 
 
 m 
 
 i 
 
 an 
 
 ft ma 
 
 . marcato 
 
 *d., tM 
 
 WZ 
 
 n 
 
 w 
 
 n 
 
 [At Scene IV. they are joyfully approaching land, and it is still 
 the motiv of The Sea which is changed to tell us of it : else- 
 
 Kurwenal 
 
 
 
 
 Try - 
 
 
 dim. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 where we meet with it under many other forms, which we 
 cannot quote here] 
 
 1 he motiv of Anger is expressive and easily recogniz- 
 able.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 ANGER 
 
 291 
 
 Scene II. — So also with that which so gloomily pre- 
 dicts The Death of Tristan and the sorrows of Isolde. 
 
 Isolde 
 
 DEATH 
 
 [If it is not always repeated in its entirety, it is frequently 
 represented by one half of it or the other, the first more par- 
 ticularly calling up the idea of Tristan, the second that of 
 Isolde, and numerous allusions to them occur in the course of 
 the work.]
 
 292 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 After various returns (occasioned by what passes on 
 the Stage), of several important themes, notably The 
 Glance, Desire, The Sea, under the calm form which I 
 pointed out in the third example, The Love Philtre, etc., 
 the scene ends by Kurwenal's mocking song of a popu- 
 lar character, the refrain of which, a joyous salutation, 
 Glory to Tristan, is taken up as a chorus by the sailors, 
 
 Kurwenal 
 
 GLORY TO TRISTAN 
 
 but a third higher, by an amusing caprice of the 
 composer. 
 
 SCENE III. — The third scene only introduces us to 
 one fresh motiv of any great importance, the one which 
 shows us the wounded Tristan when he was cared for 
 and saved by Isolde, Tristan II ounded. 
 
 TRISTAN WOUNDED 
 
 Isolde 
 
 $ 
 
 ^F= 
 
 j^a 
 
 M 
 
 ==S 
 
 ^m 
 
 y,'fu ,rri
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 293 
 
 This motiv, of which considerable use will be made in 
 the remainder of the drama, as a general thing suffers 
 very few modifications in its melodic form, but the fig- 
 ures of accompaniment which appear with it in different 
 circumstances are varied with admirable and inexhausti- 
 ble fertility of invention. Here are some examples : 
 
 The remainder of the scene is woven together of 
 motive we already know, which appear practically in the 
 following order: Glory to Tristan, Desire, The Glance, 
 Anger, The Magic Casket, The Deliverance, The Love 
 Philtre, and The Death Potion, while Isolde is relating 
 Tristan's treason to Branganc, and reveals her sinister 
 designs. 
 
 Scene IV. — After an appearance of the motiv of 
 The Sea in its gay form, those of Tristan Wounded, 
 Death, Desire, The Death Potion, and, finally, Anger 
 successively reappear. This scene offers no new Leit- 
 motive.
 
 294 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 S< ink V. — The first chords of Scene V. show us 
 Tristan the Hero coming respectfully to salute his queen. 
 
 Lento TRISTAN THE HERO 
 
 v 
 
 Then, while the supreme action of the drama, the 
 substitution of the philtre, is taking place, all the motive 
 of the first act pass in procession, ending with the accla- 
 mations of the people, and a new form of The Se6\ 
 motiv. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Scene I. — Almost the whole of the first scene is a 
 development of the following new motiv, which is of 
 considerable importance, and one of those which Wag- 
 ner has taken pleasure in presenting under the most 
 varied and unexpected aspects, after having given it its 
 most simple form at the beginning of the Prelude. 
 
 DAY 
 
 Allegro molto
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 295 
 
 This is Day., the enemy of the loves of Tristan and 
 
 Isolde. 
 
 [This is the way we shall find it in Scene 11. in the ensemble 
 in A-flat in 3-time : 
 
 Isolde Tristan 
 
 and earlier in the same Duet, by diminution 
 
 Isolde 
 
 
 
 
 
 JL (« p — +■ A *]7 
 
 
 
 f ^ 
 
 
 
 I jrj 1 . 1 
 
 1-3 J 1 1 
 
 Here is another form, which appears very frequently in the 
 same piece : 
 Isolde 
 
 jjyppiJP 
 
 and, finally, here it is again, this time by augmentation, as it is 
 presented by Brangane protecting the loves of Tristan and 
 Isolde :
 
 296 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 [One thing to be observed is that the interval between the first 
 two notes of this motiv is sometimes a fourth and sometimes a 
 fifth ; in the first case it has a very marked resemblance to the 
 G v to Tristan, of" which, strictly speaking, it is only a trans- 
 position in the minor. 
 
 It also undergoes many other transformations, all of which 1 
 cannot note here, but which will afford pleasure to those who 
 search fur them in the score.]
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 297 
 
 The moth of Impatience is sketched at the ninth bar 
 of the Prelude, but it does not assume its definite form 
 till the twenty-first bar. 
 
 IMPATIENCE 
 
 [Its principal employment will occur when Isolde, after 
 having given Tristan the appointed signal, is anxiously awaiting 
 him.] 
 
 But a few bars farther, this motiv, very slightly modi- 
 fied, happily combines with that of Ardour (also called 
 " Love's Call "), which is of considerable importance 
 throughout this act ; 
 
 ARDOUR 
 
 ■ " -r 
 
 here it is under another form,
 
 298 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 Brangane Isolde 
 
 pip 
 
 1j— 1 c r 'P't.i 
 
 ;>*.., I' ['r;aiifi pJjgE= 
 
 which completely changes its character. In general it 
 does not undergo any transformations as is the case with 
 the following, Passionate Transport, 
 
 PASSIONATE TRANSPORT 
 
 
 ^^ 
 
 i 
 
 h± 
 
 p™p 
 
 m 
 
 s 
 
 [which, however, we shall find again augmented and partly 
 syncopated in Scene II., a little before The Invocation to 
 
 Night : 
 
 It will again appear at the end of the work to serve as an 
 accompaniment to Isolde's last words]. 
 
 I he Song of Love, which forms the orchestral web of 
 the entire portion of this scene preceding the extinction 
 of the torch, and the entirely Italian character of which 
 never tails to surprise those who have not yet noticed 
 how frequently this Italian character occurs in Wagner.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 Isolde SONG OF LOVE 
 
 299 
 
 m 
 
 £21F^ 
 
 £550ai 
 
 ggg 
 
 > l& ip u 
 
 i^j-rf? 
 
 # 
 
 ^ 
 
 £ 
 
 r 
 
 f 
 
 This very frequently appears in the remainder of the 
 second act. 
 
 Among the themes already known to us, those which 
 especially contribute to the musical structure of this first 
 scene are : Desire, The Death Potion, Death, and Impatience, 
 and they appear almost in the above-mentioned order. 
 
 Scene II. — This scene is only a long love-duet 
 (Brangane, indeed, speaks a few words, but she is invisible 
 on the tower) ; during the first ensemble the symphonic 
 part presents the most beautiful interweavings of the 
 motive of Passionate Transport and Ardour; farther on 
 reappears the theme of Day, and those of Glory to 
 Tristan, the Song of Love, and The Death Potion ; then 
 appears, first in this provisional form, and almost directly 
 afterwards in its definitive form, the Invocation to Night, 
 a broad and suave melody, 
 
 Tristan INVOCATION TO NIGHT
 
 3 oo THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 f^'l- [ ? 
 
 which gives rise to a second and important ensemble of 
 striking beauty.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 301 
 
 In the course of this same ensemble, which is constantly 
 sustained by a syncopated rhythm full of life and pas- 
 sion, in which a few notes of the Day appear, the phrase 
 undergoes numerous and great modifications ; in particu- 
 lar, it assumes this entirely novel aspect, resulting from 
 the introduction of passing notes, with a structure quite 
 alien to its harmonic form, which is sometimes called 
 " Night the Revealer." 
 
 Lento moderato 
 Isolde 
 p tranquillo 
 
 [Now, it should be noticed that when this phrase with its 
 passing notes, but with a contrary inverted movement, is heard 
 in the last act, its signification will be quite different and will 
 convey the idea of Suspicion.'] 
 
 SUSPICION
 
 302 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 Towards the end appears the motiv of Death the Liber- 
 ator^ with its strange dissonances, 
 
 DEATH THE LIBERATOR 
 
 Isolde 
 
 ^vw^j^y^ 
 
 mtlenT. 
 
 f which will often reappear in the course of the drama, some- 
 time in the voices, sometimes in the orchestra, rarely modified 
 in Its melodic contour but frequently with harmonic, or rhythmic, 
 variants].
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 3°3 
 
 y fg r* 
 
 Immediately on the close of this ensemble, Brangane 
 from the summit of the tower sings the motiv of Day 
 in the form given on p. 296 ; then comes this delightful 
 motiv, 
 
 FELICITY 
 sempre motto tranq. 
 
 J tfOtf ^ U 
 
 which possesses an exquisite charm and an ideal sweet- 
 ness, so well expressing calm happiness and Felicity,
 
 3°4 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 [which will never he reproduced in its integrity ; but, besides 
 partial repetitions, numerous allusions will be made to it, and it 
 will have frequent transformations ; I will quote here one of its 
 most curious forms in 5-time and in the bass (Act III., 
 Scene II.)]- 
 Tristan 
 
 Now comes the superb Song of Death under the two 
 aspects which it assumes in this scene, 
 
 Tristan 
 
 SONG OF DEATH
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 3°5 
 
 Tristan 
 
 m 
 
 ¥ 
 
 <&z 
 
 5gp 
 
 'n'SJl^T^ 
 
 where it furnishes a third and marvellous ensemble. 
 
 [In the final scene of the drama, slightly modified, it will 
 serve as the basis of Isolde's song, until the moment when the 
 latter, growing more and more excited, finds her support in the 
 rnotiv of Passionate Transport. ~\ 
 
 Isolde 
 
 4. 
 
 After several repetitions of Felicity, Death the Libera- 
 tor, the Death Potion and Day, the scene ends with the 
 
 sudden arrival of King Mark. 
 
 20
 
 3° 6 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 Scene III. — Immediately the motive of Impatience, 
 the Song of Death, and Day reappear, and then two other 
 themes, which are not used anywhere but in this scene 
 of the act ; first, the following, very prominent in the 
 orchestra, accents the deep grief which King Mark feels 
 at the evidence of Tristan's treachery : it is Mark's 
 Grief. 
 
 MARK'S GRIEF 
 
 Melot 
 
 (The dominant feeling in the good King Mark's mind 
 is not anger, nor jealousy, nor the desire for vengeance, 
 nor hatred : it is a sharp affliction, a profound grief:
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 3°7 
 
 how well it is expressed !). Then, shortly afterwards, 
 comes another which expresses his Consternation, and, 
 perhaps, Tristan's also : 
 
 CONSTERNATION 
 
 Lento moderato, come primo 
 
 The end of this scene is largely built up of these two 
 new motive, with frequent reminiscences of Anger, The 
 Confession of Love, Desire, Felicity, Death the Liberator, 
 and the Invocation to Night. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Scene I. — The Prelude immediately takes us to 
 Tristan's estate, by means of a motiv, admirably express- 
 ing its Solitude, which will only be used at the opening 
 of this last act, but whose first notes are not without a 
 certain likeness to the motiv already known as Desire. 
 
 Analyzing it in detail, we find in these first notes the 
 feeling of despair caused by fatality, to which succeeds, 
 in the ascent in thirds and augmented fourths, the image 
 of solitude, and of the infinity of the ocean ; a new 
 figure expresses the condition of distress and isolation in 
 which we find Tristan (see p. 312); after a triple 
 organ-point, the same figures recur, followed this time 
 ( in f') b .V the last notes of Death, then the ascent in 
 thirds comes in a third time and forms the connection 
 with the first scene.
 
 3 o8 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 The whole of this Prelude, which is profoundly mel- 
 ancholy, prepares the mind for the climax of the drama. 
 
 SOLITUDE 
 
 Lento moderato 
 
 Just as the curtain rises, behind the scenes is heard an 
 affecting solo on the cor anglais, without any accompani- 
 ment, which is very expressive and is most curiously 
 developed. 
 
 SADNESS
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 3°9 
 
 [At the beginning of the first act, a young sailor was singing 
 on the mast of the ship, and a fragment of his song furnished 
 the moth of The Sea ; here, it is a shepherd who plays on his 
 pipe a sad and plaintive air, which will serve in the orchestra as 
 an accompaniment to a good part of Tristan's delirious talk, 
 after which the shepherd will play it a second time.] 
 
 This next mothv is peculiar to the character of Kur- 
 wenal^ whose joy it picturesquely describes when Tris- 
 tan first opens his eyes, as it also does later when he 
 thinks that Isolde can effectually cure him. 
 
 Kurwenal 
 
 KURWENAL'S JOY 
 
 [It will appear again at the moment Kurwenal dashes at 
 the followers of King Mark to meet his death at the end of the 
 third scene.] 
 
 The calm and peaceful motiv of Kar'eol, forming a 
 smiling contrast to the agony of the action, only appears 
 on two occasions in the orchestra, and these rather close 
 together, to recall to Tristan's memory the happy period 
 of his youth. 
 
 Kurwenal 
 
 KAREOL
 
 3 io 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 ♦ 
 
 nmilvoppo CVeSC' 
 
 wm 
 
 J ,P'..'J'J 
 
 «=* 
 
 t *+' 
 
 W^* 
 
 im 
 
 ^i g 
 
 m 
 
 ^p 
 
 ^*E^p 
 
 After this, all the principal Leit-motive appear in such a 
 tangle that their enumeration would be tedious ; besides, 
 they have been met with often enough to render them 
 easily recognizable to the eye or ear. Among the most 
 frequent, however, we may call attention to Glory to 
 Tristan, Solitude, and then, after a return of Kareol, the 
 Invocation to Night, and Death the Liberator. 
 
 Only one new motiv remains to be mentioned; this 
 also depicts Joy, but it is not like the other Joy, specially 
 attached to one single character ; it relates to the joy of 
 Tristan, as well as that of Kurwenal : when Tristan, in 
 his fever, thinks he sees Isolde coming ; and Kurwenal, 
 when he at last can avenge his master by mortally 
 wounding the traitor, Melot. 
 
 Tristan 
 
 JOY
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 3 11 
 
 Scenes II. and III. do not supply any new motive; the 
 old ones of which they are composed appear in the fol- 
 lowing order : 
 
 Scene II. — Invocation to Night, The Song of Love, 
 Deliverance, Felicity, Ardour, Death, Desire, Confession of 
 Love, The Glance, Death the Liberator, Song of Death, 
 Tristan Wounded, Death Potion, etc. 
 
 SCENE III. — foy, Kar'eol, Song of Death, Confession of 
 Love, Desire, Passionate Transport, etc., and the curtain 
 falls upon a last transformation of Desire. 
 
 Besides these principal themes, there are several of 
 secondary importance, and yet of rather frequent occur- 
 rence, such as the ?notiv of Exaltation, appearing in the 
 first act,
 
 3 I2 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 and again in Act II. at the moment of Tristan's arrival. 
 Several times it is used in the development of the motiv 
 Anger. 
 
 In the Prelude of the third act only, we meet with the 
 very expressive Tristan's Distress. 
 
 TRISTAN'S DISTRESS 
 
 The Annihilation only appears twice, in two distinct 
 forms : in Scene I. after the second appearance of Kar'eol, 
 
 ANNIHILATION 
 Tristan Adagio
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 313 
 
 and quite at the end, almost at Isolde's last words 
 
 Isolde 
 
 The following also occurs in Scene I. coming very 
 shortly after the above : 
 
 UNALTERABLE LOVE 
 
 Tristan 
 
 
 
 t-f- . 
 
 
 cJ 
 
 - T' 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 \'-i 
 
 
 
 
 "■■■■■ a 
 
 
 
 
 
 ijo 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Another, at Scene II., preceding by several pages a 
 charming reminiscence of Felicity :
 
 3H 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 MALEDICTION OF THE LOVE PHILTRE 
 
 Tristan 
 
 Finally, the following, immediately after Tristan's 
 death : 
 
 COMPANIONSHIP IN DEATH 
 
 Many others might certainly be mentioned, but these 
 seem to me sufficient for the comprehension of the work ; 
 besides, once having entered on this path, it is not easy 
 to know exactly where to stop, and one would finally 
 end by finding Leit-motive where there only exist lyrical 
 declamation and characteristic forms of Wagner's musi- 
 cal language. The essential matter is that the reader 
 should know that there remain many motive for him to 
 discover, which are not the less interesting because they 
 arc of secondary importance.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 3*5 
 
 DIE MEISTERSINGER VON NURNBERG 
 
 NAMES 
 of the 
 principal Lett-motive in 
 DIE MEISTER- 
 SINGER 
 
 in the order of their 
 first appearance. 
 
 scenes : 
 
 £ 
 
 ACT 
 
 - 
 
 
 
 ACT 
 
 
 
 -J 
 
 -z 
 
 - 
 
 ACT 
 111. 
 
 I. 
 
 11. 
 
 Tableau 
 I. 
 
 H 
 s 
 
 ' 
 
 2 i 3 
 
 ' 
 
 2 
 
 3 
 
 •( 
 
 5 
 
 6 
 
 7 
 
 i 
 
 2 
 
 3 4 
 
 
 _ 
 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 
 "I* 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 O 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 
 • 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 
 • 
 • 
 
 • 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 • 
 
 • 
 • 
 
 • 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 • 
 
 • 
 • 
 
 • 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 c. 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 • 
 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 9 
 
 • 
 • 
 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Quarrelsome Beckmesser. 
 Patronal motiv oi Nurem- 
 
 
 
 
 Evi 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Peaceofthe Summer Night 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Sachs's Profound Emo- 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Story of the Dream ( Prize 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 i6 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 DIE MEISTERSINGER 
 
 Overture 
 
 Although the Overture to Die Meistersinger consti- 
 tutes a superb portal to the work and a symphonic piece 
 apparently independent and complete in itself, it can only 
 be comprehended and admired as it deserves by those 
 who have already gained a thorough knowledge of the 
 entire work, that is to say on a second reading, or hearing. 
 It is built upon five themes selected from the most im- 
 portant ones of the work, showing the dramatic material 
 reduced to its greatest simplicity. Two of these themej 
 exhibit the learned and pretentious Corporation of the 
 Meistersinger; and the three others depict the various 
 phases of the loves of Eva and the knight Walter von 
 Stolzing. 
 
 First come heavy and pompous chords, with a move- 
 ment at once noble and pedantic, affecting a march 
 ih\ thm, 
 
 THE MEISTERSINGER 
 
 Moderate, sempre largamente e pesante 
 
 jf pigoroso r lenuto 
 
 ^fr^tW 
 
 r t 
 
 ^ * 
 
 \ i\ idly portraying the character of the Meistersinger, men 
 of profound convictions and resolute principles, in the 
 main worthy of respect, but often carrying their zeal 
 to tlu- verge of absurdity; however, they are gay and 
 lively.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 3*7 
 
 Immediately is heard as a gentle contrast Waking Love, 
 light, discreet, and always fender: the blossoming of 
 unconscious love : 
 
 WAKING LOVE 
 
 Molto tranquillo 
 
 [We shall find this motiv constantly occurring throughout the 
 work, sometimes only indicated by a few initial notes.] 
 
 This episode is short : fourteen bars ; soon appears a 
 second characteristic motiv of the Meistersinger. 
 This is The Banner : 
 
 THE BANNER 
 
 This is less bourgeois, and I will even say more her- 
 aldic than the motiv of The Meister singer, properly so- 
 called ; you see the banner floating on the breeze, the 
 beautiful banner which depicts King David playing 
 the harp, the visible and glorious sign of the dignity of 
 the Corporation, the emblem of its science, of its fidelity 
 to rules, and of its pride.
 
 3'8 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 [Just as a banner is carried at the head of any self respecting 
 society, or guild, when it takes part in any fete, or public 
 rejoicing, we shall see the moth of The Banner escorting that 
 of The Meistersinger on all important occasions.] 
 
 This motiv is greatly extended, being continued by 
 beautiful developments which exhibit under new aspects 
 the motiv of The Meister singer ^ which terminates with a 
 majestic cadence. After a short episode of eight bars 
 (which has been called " Love's Question "), there appears 
 a new theme of capital importance, Love Confessed, 
 
 LOVE CONFESSED 
 
 [which will run through the whole work, and will find its high- 
 est expression and its final form in the last act, in the song for 
 the Mastership, and again when the people join in the triumph 
 of Waher and his love]. 
 
 A last motiv, this time connected solely with the 
 character of Walter, also forms part of the fabric of 
 tin- Overture. It is called Impatient Ardour. 
 
 IMPATIENT ARDOUR
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 3*9 
 
 [We shall see it specially haunting the worthy Sachs, notably 
 towards the end of Act II. Scene III.] 
 
 Sachs 
 
 Molto sostenuto 
 
 The Overture is next developed by alternations of 
 these various motive till the moment when three of them 
 The Meister singer, The Banner, and Love Confessed, are 
 simultaneously combined in a most ingenious way, and 
 make us feel what will be the d'enoument of the drama 
 itself: the alliance and fusion of the erudite but slavish 
 Art of the old Masters with a new and more spontaneous 
 Art, that of Walter, which is inspired by love. 
 
 The Overture, then, is entirely symbolic; it summar- 
 izes the action, whilst neglecting the characters and 
 burlesque incidents, and clearly presents its philosophic 
 conception with all the weight of a thesis. 
 
 Act I. 
 Scene I. — At the rising of the curtain and during the 
 holds of the Choral of Baptism (p. 337), Walter first 
 reveals his flame with expressive gestures, which, as well 
 as his conversation with Eva, are very naturally accom- 
 panied by the motive of Waking Love, Impatient Ardour, 
 and Love Confessed. Next, in the preparations for the 
 meeting of the Meistersingcr, we see David for the first 
 time, with his gay and tripping motiv, having the charac- 
 teristics of a good fellow-
 
 320 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 f dim 
 
 Further on we find frequent borrowings from The 
 Meistersinger, and The Banner, as well as the motive of 
 love already mentioned. 
 
 Scene II. — The second scene makes us acquainted 
 with two new themes ; that of Saint Crispin, the patron 
 of the shoemakers, personifying Hans Sachs in the prosaic 
 exercise of his manual labour. 
 
 SAINT CRISPIN, or HANS SACHS, THE SHOEMAKER 
 David 
 
 which appears here once in the orchestra, as David, while 
 attending to his duties, tries to instruct Walter in the 
 pedantic rules of tablature ; and that of The Crown, the 
 beautiful crown of flowers, in the form of a popular 
 retrain, which David sings first, and which the joyous 
 and frolicsome Apprentices take up in chorus.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 321 
 
 David 
 
 THE CROWN 
 
 -J8- 
 
 [At each of its appearances it will preserve its characteristics 
 of the childlike joy of the Apprentices, who often sing it while 
 dancing in a mad circle.] 
 
 Before these two themes appear, David, Waking Love, 
 The Banner, and Impatient Ardour are often recalled. 
 
 Scene III. — Accompanying the entrance of Pogner 
 and Beckmesser, we hear the theme of The Assembly. 
 
 THE ASSEMBLY 
 
 ^ 
 
 »r 
 
 v f 
 
 This represents the Meistersinger, no longer in theii 
 outward functions, their business, but i r 1 their private 
 and to some extent administrative occupations, their ex- 
 aminations for admission, in which they preserve the 
 same solemn forms and ritual, and the same feeling: of 
 their own importance. Less puffed up with pride than 
 The Meistersinger, less blatant than The Banner, this 
 motiv is impressed with an unctuous dignity which 
 
 21
 
 3 22 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 borders on fatuity, and deliciously completes the musical 
 portrait of the learned brotherhood. It lasts the whole 
 time that the twelve apostles of the art are making their 
 successive entrances, and then, immediately after the 
 roll-call, Pcgner introduces to us a very serene motiv, 
 Saint John, which in itself expresses the joy and happi 
 
 Pogner 
 
 SAINT JOHN 
 
 ness of the festival which will be celebrated on the 
 morrow, but which for the moment is inseparable in the 
 worthy goldsmith's mind from the satisfaction which he 
 feels that his daughter, Eva, with her fortune, will be 
 the prize of the contest, that it will make her very 
 happy, and will considerably enhance the prestige of the 
 learned corporation. 
 
 After his speech, Saint John is combined with The 
 Assembly and The Meistersinger ; and The Crown makes 
 two brief appearances. The discussion becomes heated, 
 and everybody speaks at once. It is then that Pogner 
 presents the knight Walter von Stolzing to the Meister- 
 singer, and the following motiv accompanies this presen- 
 tation, depicting in a few notes his elegant and supple 
 figure and distinguished appearance.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 3 2 3 
 
 Tranquillo e misurato 
 
 WALTER 
 
 [This proud moth', which never refers to any one but Wal- 
 ter, will run through all the rest of the work.] 
 
 It is very amusing to see how it is demeaned, in the 
 course of the same scene, ten pages, or so, later ; then 
 it is Walter as he appears to Beckmesser through the 
 morose eyes of his jealousy. 
 
 Kothner Beckmesser 
 
 Almost immediately Walter sings his delightful song, 
 The Song to Walter's Masters (see p. 338). 
 
 Kothner, in a strange and archaic kind of psalmody, 
 gives a lecture on the unchangeable rules of tablature ; 
 Beckmesser utters his hoarse: "Begin!" and Walter, 
 seizing his words on the wing, improvises his Hymn to 
 Spring (see p. 339), which is very ill received, more 
 especially, as was to be expected, bv Beckmesser, whose 
 crabbed, quarrelsome, sullen and cavilling nature is well 
 depicted in the following jerky and domineering motiv,
 
 3 2 4 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 full of dissonances which the orchestra takes pleasure in 
 intensifying. 
 
 QUARRELSOME BECKMESSER 
 
 A kind of struggle goes on in the orchestra between 
 Beckmesser's and Walter's motive, in sympathy with the 
 scene between the two characters, until Hans Sachs 
 begins to speak. Pursued by Impatient Ardour, he speaks 
 with a gentle and calm expressiveness which is in happy 
 contrast with the preceding tumult. Here is the theme 
 which is called Sachs's Good Nature. 
 
 SACHS'S GOOD NATURE 
 Sachs 
 
 far Ik-- can only feel sympathy for Walter, but when 
 later we find this motiv in Act III., Scene II., it will be con- 
 siderably expanded ; it will not then be simply sympathy that 
 it expresses, but the most devoted affection.]
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 3 2 5 
 
 Sachs 
 
 During the rest of the scene the quarrel becomes 
 more and more embittered between all the motive, and 
 at last the poor Sachs is defeated by the hateful Beck- 
 messer and by a malicious recall of Saint Crispin. 
 
 Walter is turned out. The Apprentices amuse 
 themselves to the air of The Crown ; but the pedantic 
 Meistersinger triumph, and when the curtain falls, a 
 revengeful bassoon turns into ridicule the motiv of The 
 Meistersinger. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Scene I. — The Prelude of the second act recalls 
 the motiv of Saint 'John. On the rising of the curtain, 
 it alternates with The Crown, which is sung and danced 
 by the Apprentices. 
 
 Scene II. — During the dialogue between Pogner and 
 his daughter, is heard for the first time in the orchestra 
 The Patronal Motiv of Nuremberg, which well represents 
 the fine old German citizen of the 16th century, and 
 his pleasure at the popular festival and at this interval of 
 rest, which is at once joyful and ceremonial, and which 
 flatters his vanity as an easy-going citizen, — a motiv 
 calm, without noise or clatter, and of a placid and some- 
 what ponderous gaiety.
 
 326 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 PATRONAL MOTIV OF NUREMBERG 
 
 Pogner 
 
 Saint Crispin and Waking Love, faintly indicated, are 
 the onlv other motive in this scene. 
 
 Scene III. — After new allusions to Saint Crispin, the 
 moth) of Impatient Ardour assumes great importance dur- 
 ing the monologue of Sachs, who grows more and more 
 excited. 
 
 Scene IV. — Here, with Eva, appears her character- 
 istic theme, full of grace and charm. It is indeed the 
 type of the prettv German maiden, who is gracious with- 
 out being coquettish, simple, naive, and full of sentiment, 
 and, moreover, intelligent. 
 
 Sachs 
 
 EVA
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 3 2 7 
 
 Eva 
 
 It is thus that she must appear in the eyes of Walter 
 with his poet's enthusiasm, and of Sachs with his almost 
 paternal tenderness. She treats Sachs coaxingly to in- 
 duce him to tell her what has happened and what is 
 likely to happen. 
 
 The motive of Saint Crispin, Walter^ and ^)uarrelso?ne 
 Beckmesser constantly underlie the dialogue, as a com- 
 mentary on the animated conversation. 
 
 Scene V. — JValter appears, accompanied by his 
 typical motiv ; he meets Eva (Impatient Ardour motiv); 
 they converse of Pogner's decision (Meister singer motiv) ; 
 then the Night-Watchman sounds his burlesque horn, and 
 immediately there arrives a new motiv of love, imper- 
 sonal this time, the harmony of which is exquisitely 
 
 PEACE OF THE SUMMER NIGHT
 
 3 i8 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 charming and seems to spread its soothing influence 
 over all nature. The Watchman chants his mediaeval 
 melopoeia, announcing the tranquillity of the little town, 
 and in the distance sounds the last note on his horn ; 
 and then begins, to last to the end of the act, a series 
 of humorous scenes in which music plays the most 
 wittv, but indescribable part. 
 
 Scene VI. — Beckmesser comes in to croak his 
 Serenade under his charmer's window ; he comically 
 tunes his lute, and Sachs interrupts him with a Biblical 
 Song (p. 340). He, however, manages to sing in some 
 way or other, with many contortions ; but the mali- 
 cious Sachs energetically scores each one of his mis- 
 takes with a loud stroke of his hammer on his cobbler's 
 last. 
 
 The Serenade itself is perfectly grotesque, as well 
 by its music and prosody as by the absurdity of its 
 words, — a regular masterpiece of silliness, of German 
 buffoonery, rather heavy, rather coarse, but, at the same 
 time, rather amusing; the lute which accompanies it is 
 played bv one of the musicians ; it is a kind of rude 
 harp, the strings of which are like thick iron wires; the 
 sounds which it produces are as horrible and strange a? 
 the voice of the town-clerk.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 THE SERENADE 
 
 3 2 9 
 
 Luth 
 
 The mot'w of The Serenade, according to Bcckmessc :r's 
 ideas, as we can feel, is correctly squared according to 
 the regular rules, and embellished with the most ridiculous 
 ornaments. It is a triumph of pedantry. 
 
 SCENE VII. — All this noise stirs up first the neigh- 
 bours, and then the district and the whole town ; every- 
 body is quarrelling and fighting; from the motiv of The 
 Serenade, which originated with the tuning of the lute, 
 The Beating is derived : 
 
 THE BEATING 
 
 a* * m n°n 
 
 ffiiJm 
 
 scmpre J'orte e staccato 
 
 Both are treated by Wagner in the form of a very clever 
 fugue in which every one has his part, Sachs, Walter, 
 the Meister singer, the Apprentices, the neighbours, and 
 their wives ; the violins grind with rage, the brass bellows,
 
 3:-° 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 the tumult increases, and all this admirable uproar is 
 made only with a few fragments of the lute and the un- 
 fortunate Serenade ; it is Beckmesser baited with his own 
 motive. 
 
 A note on the horn of the placid Watchman puts every 
 one to flight, and when he enters, every one has disap- 
 peared into his own house. 
 
 The Peace of the Summer Night alone reigns, and is 
 delightfully refreshing after all this amusing uproar. 
 
 Act III. 
 Scene I. — The Prelude is woven out of three new 
 
 motive : Sachs's Profound Emotion 
 
 SACHS'S PROFOUND EMOTION 
 
 Preli de. Un poco sostenuto 
 
 serves as an opening and a conclusion •, Sachs's Choral 
 (p. 337) and his Biblical Song (p. 340) form the middle 
 part. The former, grave and sad, which has also been 
 called the theme of Human Wisdom, has already made 
 a brief appearance, almost unnoticed in fact, in Act II., 
 Scene III. It is now about to become very important. 
 
 At the rising of the curtain it combines with the gay 
 motiv David, forming a curious contrast. Then come 
 memories of the Lute, of The Serenade and The Beating; 
 shortly afterwards David sings The Choral of the Jordan 
 (p- 337); a recall of Sachs's Profound Emotion mingling 
 with I! uking Love; the Patronal motiv of Nuremberg re-
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 33i 
 
 appears, accompanied by a new form which seems to 
 characterize Nuremberg in holiday attire, the town en 
 fete. 
 
 NUREMBERG EN FETE 
 
 Sachs 
 
 sempre p 
 
 •J -y dolce espr. ■* *• 
 
 teggiero e stacc. 
 
 r > 
 
 ^— t — » 
 
 A 
 
 ^ 
 
 p^p 
 
 ¥=je 
 
 ^P 
 
 i • J^- i" 
 
 77^ .fttfrc of the Summer Night presents itself to Sachs's 
 mind with fresh reminiscences of The Serenade and The 
 Beating ; Saint 'John is mingled with Waking Love. All 
 these motive enable us to penetrate into Sachs's inner 
 thoughts, they all relate to the subject of his preoccupa- 
 tion, and his emotion keeps increasing in proportion as 
 he sees the moment approach when he will be able to 
 complete his work by making two people happy. 
 
 Scene II. — A prolonged arpeggio announces Walter's 
 arrival, greeted by the Profound Emotion, which is again 
 mingled with Waking Love. 
 
 Walter relates that he has had a wonderful dream ; 
 and immediately in the orchestra is heard the Harmony 
 of the Dream.
 
 33 2 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 HARMONY OF THE DREAM 
 Walter Sachs 
 
 [which will only be given in its entirety in Scene J\ ., 
 
 Sachs 
 
 &. • rrr t — , — u 
 
 i the question arises of naming the melody which is the 
 result of this dream, that is to say, some bars before the Quintet 
 of Baptism.] 
 
 It is in this scene that the theme of Sachs's Profound 
 Emotion reaches its fullest expression, while Sachs is
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 333 
 
 giving Walter one of the most beautiful and elevated 
 lessons in composition. Incidentally there reappear, 
 every now and then, annotating the lecture, Love Con- 
 fessed, [Falter, and Nuremberg en Fett , in company with 
 the Patronctl Motiv. 
 
 It is also in the course of this lesson that Sachs sings 
 the beautiful melody of Memories of Youth (p. 341), and 
 Walter sketches his graceful and poetic Story of the 
 Dream 
 
 STORY OF THE DREAM (PRIZE SONG) 
 Walter 
 
 [which later, when developed and polished according to the 
 advice of the worthy Master, becomes the Prize Sotig~\. 
 
 Note that the beginning of the third Strophe is none 
 other than the motiv of Love Confessed, which has been 
 familiar to us since the Overture, and here finds its 
 proper use. 
 
 Walter
 
 334 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 Scene III. — Various fragments of the Lute, The 
 Serenade, and still more The Beating, accompany 
 Beckmesser's entrance, not without jostling the Profound 
 Emotion, Saint Crispin, The Story of the Dream, Nurem- 
 berg, The Quarrelsome Beckmesser, etc., but there is no new 
 motiv in this scene. 
 
 Scene IV. — Shortly after Eva's arrival, we must 
 notice a pretty melodic figure of a delightful flexibility, 
 which wonderfully aids in depicting her Anxiety in all the 
 phases through which she is successively to pass, includ- 
 ing hope, fear, and uncertainty. 
 
 EVA'S ANXIETY 
 
 Eva 
 
 The majority of the other motive follow it in procession, 
 (.specially that of Walter, who now repeats the Story of 
 the Dream in its entirety, followed by a new outbreak 
 of Sachs's Profound Emotion, which comes in very 
 appropriately. 
 
 Here occurs a musical fact which has no parallel in 
 all Wagner's work, and which is full of witty appro- 
 priateness : Sachs, having to say that he knows the 
 history of Tristan and Isolde, and that he has no inten- 
 tion of being a second King Mark, the orchestra illus- 
 trates his words by borrowing from the very score of 
 Tristan uud Isolde. And how happily they are chosen !
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 335 
 
 The love of Tristan and Isolde is represented by the 
 motiv of Desire, and King Mark by that of Consternation 
 (see pp. 285 and 307). 
 
 Next, the Choral of Baptism (Act I., Scene I.) is 
 cleverly recalled several times, the Harmony of the 
 Dream here receives its full expansion, then comes 
 the delightful vocal ensemble which has received the 
 name of The Baptism Quintet, and which departs 
 strangely from Wagnerian methods. We shall speak 
 of it again (p. 342). 
 
 A kind of orchestral interlude, formed in particular of 
 the motive Nuremberg, Saint "John, and The Meistersinger, 
 broken into by calls on the horns and trumpets, while 
 the scene is changing, serves as a bond of union with the 
 next tableau, which is formed entirely of a single scene. 
 
 Scene V. — This last scene of the work does not 
 contain a single new motiv. 
 
 The Corporations defile past : the Shoemakers are 
 escorted by Saint Crispin ; the Tailors and Bakers are pre- 
 ceded by their respective flourishes of trumpets ; the Ap- 
 prentices dance a rustic waltz full of animation; and then 
 the entrance of the Meistersinger occurs to the tones of 
 their own typical motiv, which, as would naturally happen 
 in view of the solemnity, is escorted by The Banner, 
 hailed by all the people, who spontaneously sing Sachs's 
 Choral (p. 337), which redoubles the Profound Emotion 
 of that worthy man. 
 
 He makes a short but heartfelt speech, accompanied 
 by the figure of The Assembly, and the motive of The 
 Meistersinger and Saint John. Then the Contest begins. 
 
 Beckmesser opens the ball. He stammers out 
 Walter's verses, disfigured and deprived of all sense, to 
 a melody (?) of the same kind as his Serenade, accom- 
 panying himself on his indescribable instrument ; he
 
 336 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 breaks clown, he makes a fool of himself, he is hooted 
 by the crowd, and still more by the orchestra; he gets 
 into a rage ; Quarrelsome Beckmesser reappears. 
 
 After this return to the coarse buffoonery of the 
 second act, it is Walter's turn to sing ; for the last time 
 he sings his Story of the Drea?n, which has reached its 
 complete development, and now takes the name of the 
 Prize-Song. 
 
 The people applaud him, the Meistersinger them- 
 selves are gained over, all the \ove-motive cross and re- 
 cross in the orchestra, and Eva awards him the crown, 
 which she places upon his brow herself, to the first 
 phrase of the third strophe of the Prize-Song. 
 
 It is needless to say that all the motive have had 
 occasion to appear in the most joyful manner during 
 this ensemble scene. 
 
 Sachs steps forward to address the victor, takes his 
 hand, and then we hear, as at the conclusion of the 
 Overture, Love Confessed (the third Strophe of the 
 Prize-Song), associated with the theme of The Meister- 
 singer, which, of course, the pompous Banner hastens 
 to join. 
 
 It is on these last motive, that is to say, those of the 
 Overture, that the work ends, in a riot of brilliant 
 trumpets. 
 
 Chorals. 
 
 The score of Die Meistersinger von Niirnberg, which 
 takes us back into the first years of Lutheran Reform, 
 contains three- Chorals which are very important for us 
 to know. 
 
 I he first is heard in the old church of Saint Katha- 
 rine at the rising of the curtain, and is harmonized in 
 the austere and classic manner of J. S. Bach.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 337 
 
 Soprani 
 
 CHORAL OF BAPTISM 
 
 L'istesso tempo (moderato) 
 
 The second is sung by David almost at the end of 
 the third act (Scene I.), under the melodic form. 
 
 CHORAL OF THE JORDAN 
 David 
 
 ffHfJ' IE f U JL +J^-f 
 
 The third, which Wagner attributes to Sachs himself, 
 appears in the Prelude of the third act sufficiently for us 
 to recognize it again when the people give him a flatter- 
 ing ovation in the last scene. 
 
 CHORAL OF SACHS
 
 33» 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 Independent Motive. 
 
 We must also mention in addition, although they do 
 not constitute Leit-motiv e, a few absolutely independent 
 great and beautiful melodic forms, which are complete 
 in themselves. They must be regarded as a species of 
 Lieder, which produce a sense of repose in the midst of 
 the contrapuntal net of the continuous melody, with 
 which they, however, are often Connected, either by the 
 amusing details of their harmonic structure, or by the 
 melodic figures which are designedly* introduced into 
 the accompaniments. The principal ones are : 
 
 The motiv of IValters Masters, which is unfolded in 
 two strophes and an envoy (Act I. Scene II.) ; 
 
 WALTER'S MASTERS 
 
 Moderato 
 Walter 
 
 i 
 
 r y r v J •> 
 
 i-"^ 
 
 m 
 
 poco cresc.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 339 
 
 The Hymn to Spring, also of two strophes, but unlike 
 each other, is delightful poetry of exquisite freshness ; 
 the accompaniment of which is almost entirely made up 
 of fragments of Impatient Ardour (Act I., Scene III.) ; 
 
 HYMN TO SPRING 
 
 . Q m "" " 
 
 
 
 ~^> 
 
 
 
 
 
 f 
 
 3 'p 
 
 i — f , 
 
 f 
 
 j^ 
 
 
 
 3 _ 
 
 J 
 
 '^ *L =g 
 
 
 The Melopoela of the Night-Watchman, which appears 
 twice (Act II. Scene V. and Act II. end of Scene VII.), 
 each time preceded and followed by a comical call on 
 the horn, which always sounds horribly out of tune ;
 
 340 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 MELOPCEIA OF THE NIGHT WATCHMAN 
 
 Night Watchman 
 
 The Biblical Song, which is at once archaic in form 
 and full of genial humour, is formed of three regular 
 couplets (Act II. Scene VI.). It is recalled in the 
 Prelude to the third act; 
 
 Sachs 
 
 BIBLICAL SONG 
 
 t-r t tf | r
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 m 
 
 341 
 
 The Memories of Youth (Act III. Scene II.), and the 
 
 MEMORIES OF YOUTH 
 
 delicious ensemble of the Quintet of Baptism, which 
 ends the fourth scene of the third act in the most 
 graceful and poetic manner. The presence of a
 
 342 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 THE PROPHETIC DREAM (Quintet of Baptism) 
 Eva 
 
 Quintet, a regularly-developed ensemble piece, is a 
 tnatti i of surprise in a work of the period of Wagner's 
 full maturity. 
 
 We may, however, explain it by the consideration 
 that the live characters on the stage at this moment are 
 in perfect communion of ideas, and this relieves it from 
 being in any way illogical. 
 
 However, it is probable that this piece was written 
 long before the rest of the score, and was one of the 
 hist sketches (see p. 46), dating from the period of 
 Tannhduser.
 
 THE TETRALOGY OF DER RING DES NIBELUNGEN. 
 
 
 RINO DES NIBELUNGEN 
 
 KHEIN- 
 GOLD 
 
 DIE WALEURE 
 
 SIEGFRIED 
 
 GOTTERDAHMEBDHG 
 
 
 
 ? 
 
 A l ' 
 
 | 
 
 IE 1 
 
 £ 
 
 ACT 
 
 4\ A< ^ 
 
 i\^ T 
 
 > 
 
 'us 1 
 
 1 
 
 *i ' 
 
 I 
 
 *ff 
 
 t 
 
 HL 
 
 
 - 
 
 ,, a 
 
 .-,43 
 
 5:Sl;;:ir-, S h. t , 
 
 • 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • 
 
 w 
 
 
 
 • 
 
 ....« 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • • 
 
 • •• 
 
 • • 
 
 • • 
 
 • • 
 
 ••• 
 
 -. • 
 
 
 
 • ••• 
 
 • ••• 
 
 • ••• 
 
 
 
 
 ••...-• 
 
 
 • 
 
 • ••• 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • ••• 
 
 •-. 
 
 •-• 
 
 • .-•• 
 
 • 
 • 
 
 • •• 
 
 • • 
 
 • --• 
 • 
 
 • * 
 
 
 
 
 
 • • 
 • 
 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 
 • 
 • 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • 
 
 ••:• 
 
 • 
 
 ••• 
 
 
 • ••• 
 
 
 - • 
 • • 
 
 • 
 
 
 
 
 • • ■■ • 
 
 • ■•••• 
 
 
 . •• 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • 
 
 
 *• 
 
 * • 
 
 • •• 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 • • 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • 
 •• 
 
 
 • 
 
 
 
 ■ — 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • •• 
 
 
 ....« 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • 
 
 ••• 
 
 
 . •• 
 
 
 11- !'■ -" ■<«■' H.lm 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 
 •• 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 • • 
 
 • 
 ••• 
 
 • 
 
 , • 
 
 • 
 
 - •• 
 
 • 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 jf' * toljh, T.M«.,. .^ 
 
 
 -...«• 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ♦ -...•-. 
 
 
 • •• 
 
 • 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 S:SSV'Wo.'k.VD,,,„«,i„::: 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • ■ 
 
 • 
 
 ••• 
 
 • 
 • 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ••• 
 
 • - 
 
 • 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • • 
 
 • • 
 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 
 • •• 
 
 
 
 
 SS. ? ii!»rfiS?di 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 
 
 
 
 • 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • •• 
 
 • 
 • 
 
 • ••• 
 
 • • • 
 
 • • 
 
 
 • 
 
 
 •- • 
 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 • • 
 
 • 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Th«R..«orth.wil, m ., 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • 
 
 
 ....« 
 
 Tb t H™»oi.taW,l,„ J , 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 SDiSV.i.'.oo.i.:::::::::::::: 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • • 
 • 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 
 • •• 
 
 
 • 
 
 
 • 
 
 . - • 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • • 
 • • 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • • 
 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 
 • • 
 
 "I^a::.^.^***! 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ••• 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • 
 • 
 
 
 - • 
 
 • 
 
 • • 
 
 • •• 
 
 • • 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Tta/^m^molr N,:^ Life 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 • 
 
 • • 
 • 
 
 • • 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • • 
 
 
 
 • 
 
 • •• 
 
 
 • • 
 
 • 
 
 • • 
 
 
 • ■ 
 
 •• 
 
 • 
 •• 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • 
 
 
 • • 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • • 
 • • 
 
 
 
 
 • 
 
 -•• 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 ••• 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • ••• 
 
 ■ ■• 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • •• 
 • • 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • • • 
 
 
 .. ..« 
 ■ ■•• 
 
 ^i j ':". ofEj?eloc 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • ..••• 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 343 
 
 DER RING DES NIBELUNGEN 
 DAS RHEINGOLD 
 
 Prelude. — The prelude of Das Rheingold consists ex- 
 clusively of that colossal hold of a single chord, the chord 
 of E-flat, of which we have already spoken (p. 257). 
 This sustained note is in itself a Leit-motiv of the most 
 expressive, descriptive, and philosophical character. It 
 symbolizes the primitive element, water, in a state of 
 repose; the water from which, according to the teaching 
 of mythology, life springs complete with all its struggles 
 and passions. During this long sustained note we hear 
 the beginnings of life; but those are things which are 
 outside the province of words, and which music alone, 
 speaking without an intermediary to the intelligence, can 
 hope to make us comprehend. 
 
 First, we hear a single mysterious note, very grave 
 and greatly protracted : this is Nature asleep ; to this 
 fundamental, single, and primitive tone is then added its 
 fifth ; and, after a long interval, the octave ; then, one 
 by one, all the other harmonics in the same order in 
 which Nature produces them ; then, passing notes, more 
 and more frequent; then appear rhythms, at first rudi- 
 mentary, which mingle and assume complicated forms; 
 organization has already commenced ; at long intervals 
 new instruments are added ; a kind of regular and ca- 
 denced undulation is established, giving the feeling of 
 water in movement; the sound gradually swells out 
 and invades the orchestra like a torrent ; the movement 
 of the waves is accentuated, a trembling arises and 
 increases, bringing the prescience of life; and, when 
 the curtain rises, we are not in the least surprised to
 
 i 
 
 K 
 
 344 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 find ourselves at the bottom of a large flowing river, full 
 to the hanks; our mind had already pictured what the 
 scenery reveals. 
 
 [This prodigious motiv, which is often called the motiv of the 
 Primeval Element, throughout the whole Tetralogy is destined 
 to personify the Rhine, and yet its recurrences will not be very 
 frequent. Outside the Prologue which is constructed upon it, 
 we shall only find it again incidentally and hastily sketched in 
 the first scene of Siegfried, simply because the latter in his 
 imaginative talk speaks of the fishes which swim ; it resumes its 
 greatest importance in Gotterdammerung every time there is a 
 question of restoring the treasure to the Rhine, which is con- 
 sidered here as the representative of the primordial element, 
 water. 
 
 But its chief importance dominates the entire work and mani- 
 fests itself in the fact that the majoritv of the most essential 
 motive are formed out of its constituent elements ; that is to say 
 from the natural harmonic tones (the perfect major chord), 
 grouped in various ways and more or less ornamented with pass- 
 ing-notes, which any musician will be able to recognize. Chief 
 among those which are most unquestionably derived from it in 
 this way, and which we shall meet in the following pages, I 
 will cite : The Rhine- Daughters, The Rhine-gold, The Golden 
 Apples, The Norns, The Fall of the Gods, The Incantation of 
 the Thunder, The Rainbow, The Sword, The Ride of the 
 Walkyries, and Brunnbilde' s Sleep, etc., the signification of 
 which, whether material, psychological, or metaphysical, always 
 allows some relation or other to be established between them 
 and the idea of the primeval element.] 
 
 Here, then, is this important motiv under some of the 
 principal forms which it successively assumes from the 
 beginning of the Prelude, which Prelude it wholly fills, 
 constantly flooding and increasing in volume without 
 ever leaving the single chord of E-flat major. 
 
 It is a marvel of boldness and genius.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 THE RHINE 
 
 345 
 
 Scene I. — As soon as a new chord appears, life itself 
 is manifested by the presence and the seductively inno- 
 cent song of the charming Rhine-Daughters, gracefully 
 swimming around their Gold. 
 
 THE RHINE-DAUGHTERS 
 
 Woglinde
 
 346 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 This beguiling and flexible mot'w, mingled with The 
 Rhine, dominates the whole of the ensemble in Scene I., 
 interrupted, however, bv certain harsh and clashing 
 rhythms, one on the entrance of Alberich (G minor), 
 and the other in 2 -time, both undoubtedly depicting the 
 ungraceful gait and repulsive advances of the hateful 
 gnome. 
 
 [The second will be recognized at the beginning of Scene 
 III.] 
 
 When Alberich has met with the successive refusals 
 of the three Undines, he vents his rage in a kind of mis- 
 erable cry, twice repeated, formed of only two notes in 
 the descending minor second, which vividly expresses the 
 despair caused by his impotence.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 BONDAGE 
 
 347 
 
 [This brief formula throughout the Tetralogy will be con- 
 nected with the ideas of Bondage, servitude, or subjugation, and 
 its use will be very frequent, not to say perpetual. 
 
 If it is difficult to recognize it on account of its brevity, 
 yet the painful character of its accents will always attract 
 attention.] 
 
 At the moment when the Gold shines forth, it is 
 saluted by a brilliant flourish of trumpets, which is re- 
 peated several times and will remain its characteristic 
 
 GOLD 
 
 motiv, visibly derived from The Rhine, as it logically 
 should be, since it is the Gold of the Rhine. 
 
 In the brilliant ensemble of the three voices which fol- 
 lows this vision of the Gold, the latter is glorified by a 
 kind of cry of joy from the Nymphs; it assumes two 
 different forms, which may be presented separately or in 
 combination without losing any of its signification there- 
 by ; this cry is not afterwards attached to the Nymphs 
 personally, except in so far as is necessarv to convey the
 
 34 8 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 idea of joy. It is the Adoration of the Gold, nothing 
 more. 
 
 The Hrst form is generally twice repeated. ( We 
 must also notice that when. Wagner wishes to impress 
 a Leit-motiv upon the attention of the listener, he never 
 fears insisting upon it, and that is one of the things 
 which never render it necessary for us to hunt for them ; 
 ir is sufficient to listen.) 
 
 Woglinde THE 
 
 Weligunde ADORATION OF THE GOLD 
 
 Flosshilde 
 
 rr p i : a % n — - 
 
 ess 
 
 In its second form wc must note its vocal accent, its 
 Characteristic inflection and instrumental design, glitter- 
 ing like polished metal ; each will be employed separately
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 349 
 
 while still meaning the same thing •, it is always The 
 Adoration of the Gold. 
 
 It is then that one of the Nymphs commits the fatal 
 indiscretion of revealing to the gnome the omnipotence 
 with which a Ring will be endowed if forged from this 
 Gold, and she does this by means of the following new 
 motiv, which, it will be remarked, offers many resem- 
 blances to that of the Ring, which does not appear till 
 
 later. 
 
 THE POWER OF THE RING 
 
 Wellgunde 
 
 ¥i : -l±5&t\& 
 
 m 
 
 
 f- 
 
 f= 
 
 m 
 
 v 
 
 j@^ 
 
 To tell the truth, the action of the entire drama 
 hinges on this ; without the thou ghtless ch atter o f the 
 Nixies, Alberich would not have thought of st ealing the 
 GoI3 which is to cause so many misfortunes. 
 
 THE RENUNCIATION OF LOVE 
 
 Woglinde 
 
 PPPF 
 
 rrTf'
 
 35° 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 fr pr -^h 
 
 "^Wt SteaL 
 
 But, in order to possess this Gold, another Daughter 
 of the Rhine informs him, it is necessary to renounce 
 love. 
 
 Alberich does not hesitate for long ; seeing the im- 
 possibility of gaining and embracing the agile Nymphs, 
 he turns his ambitious thoughts in the direction of wealth 
 and power; the orchestra, echoing his thoughts, darkly 
 murmurs the theme of The Power of the Ring, followed 
 by the formula of Renunciation, and immediately after- 
 wards, springing eagerly upon the rock, mounting, or 
 rather scaling it, he succeeds in seizing the coveted 
 Gold. 
 
 At the very end of Scene I. there appears for the 
 first time the theme which is especially attached to the 
 Ring. 
 
 THE RING 
 
 
 
 t — i — » * 
 
 3 
 f 
 
 r$ 
 
 
 ■yy-rr^f r 
 
 V 
 
 
 f — 
 
 ► 
 
 
 9t 
 
 v — ■ 
 
 
 p 
 
 p 
 
 v.. , 
 
 
 " 
 
 V r\ r i 
 
 
 
 [This, be it understood, will run through the entire work.]
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 35i 
 
 Scene II. — By a method frequent with Wagner, 
 but which here finds one of its most beautiful applica- 
 tions, the above motiv, by a series of transformations, 
 is insensibly merged into that of IValhalla, which is 
 absolutely different in character, majestically depicting 
 the sumptuous Palace of the Gods. This moth placidly 
 reveals its splendour in the calm and sweet key of D- 
 flat major. WALHALLA 
 
 [It will be subject to many transformations. In Siegfried, 
 Act III. Scene I., we see it triumphant in 4-time associated 
 with the theme of The Sword : 
 
 in the second act of Gotterdammerung, at the end of the first 
 scene, where Alberich is prompting Hagen to reconquer theii 
 power, it appears dismantled, in ruins, and contemptible. 
 Alberich
 
 352 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 It has alrcadv been seen in this condition in Act II. Scene II. 
 of Die ll'alkuri, when Wotan foresees the approaching end of 
 the gods. 
 
 Finally, it is often represented by its last notes alone, forming 
 a conclusion of great splendour, in which we may recognize a 
 kind of majestic Hail to Walballa, found in Rheingold, Scene 
 II., three bars before the suppression of the flats.] 
 
 HAIL TO WALHALLA 
 Wotan 
 
 Three bars farther on appears the theme called The 
 Treaty, representing in a general way the idea of any 
 treatv, of a pact, or a bargain struck, which is first ener- 
 getically expressed by its first two notes (which are the 
 same as Bondage), followed by a descent by steps which 
 are as deliberate, heavy, and implacable as destiny, giving 
 the idea of a duty to be fulfilled. 
 
 Fricka 
 
 THE TREATY
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 353 
 
 Forty-two bars later we find the pretty theme of 
 Love's Fascination, which first forms the second half of 
 a beautiful phrase sung by Fricka (in F), and which 
 Wotan takes up shortly afterwards (in E-flat), thus : 
 
 Wotan 
 
 LOVE'S FASCINATION 
 
 $Ui ]J A 
 
 9 
 
 f 
 
 \c 
 
 ¥ 
 
 At the moment when Freia comes flying on to the 
 stage, this motiv is heard for the first time in the double
 
 354 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 form, the two parts of which have two distinct sig- 
 nifications ; the first belongs to Frei'a, the goddess of 
 love, and will remain personal to her ; the second repre- 
 sents Flight, and will henceforth express the act of 
 flight, whosoever the flying personage may be. In the 
 present case it represents Frei'a in full flight from her 
 persecutors. 
 
 Almost immediately afterwards The Giants appear with 
 
 w%m 
 
 m 
 
 -** 
 
 ■EE cizrg 
 
 M 
 
 m 
 
 B \*1 Y . 
 
 ^m 
 
 -* V 
 
 V 
 
 their ponderous, heavy, and massive motiv, which seems 
 as if it might remove rocks; this theme will undergo a 
 curious transformation in Siegfried, when it has to rep- 
 resent one of the Giants changed to a Dragon (p. 400). 
 W hen it is no longer a question of designating any 
 pact or treaty whatsoever, but only that treaty concluded 
 with the Giants for the construction of Walhalla, Wagner 
 has recourse to a fresh form which is not without some 
 affinity to the moth of The Treaty, and which is gene- 
 rally treated in canon.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 TREATY WITH THE GIANTS 
 
 355 
 
 Fasolt 
 
 It is in this scene, 37 bars after the signature of the 
 key in A-flat, that this motiv is heard for the first time. 
 
 About two pages farther on, a graceful contrast is 
 afforded by the elegant figure of The Golden dpples, — 
 those apples which supply the gods with eternal youth, 
 and which Freia alone can cultivate, which Fafner ex- 
 hibits to us on the most cavernous notes of his deep 
 bass voice, and which, by the contrast, gives a rather 
 curious effect. 
 
 Fafner 
 
 THE GOLDEN APPLES 
 
 
 The typical motiv which corresponds to the personality 
 of the god Loge is as changing and variable as himself. 
 The example given below, which accompanies his first
 
 35 6 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 entrance, groups together and unites many essentially 
 chromatic figures, which seem to be writhing and hiss- 
 ing, and by which he is always represented; these same 
 figures are frequently inverted, and descend, or are 
 truncated and modified, but they are always easily recog- 
 nizable, as no other Leit-motiv has this leaping motion 
 and malicious behaviour. 
 
 LOGE
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 357 
 
 Closely related to the latter is the scintillating motiv 
 of The Flames, which appears here immediately after it 
 
 THE FLAMES' SPELL 
 
 Wotan 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
 ^p J I^^> f^f 
 
 [and will guard Briinnhildc's slumber in the third act of Die 
 Walkiire~\ . 
 
 The last new motiv which this scene presents is the 
 following, which may be readily found when the signa- 
 ture of the key of 13 in | appears : it is called Love's 
 Regret.
 
 358 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 Loge 
 
 LOVE'S REGRET 
 
 During the changing of the scene, there is a kind of 
 interlude, which is purely musical, picturing the descent 
 of Wotan and Loge into dark Nibelheim, to Alberich's 
 subterranean forge. This interlude is principally built 
 up on the motiv of Loge, with some recollections of 
 Lamentation, Bondage, Gold, and Flight, of the significa- 
 tion of which there is no doubt ; gradually in the orches- 
 tra the rhythm of the moth of The Forge appears, which 
 is taken up with an ever-increasing vigour by anvils in 
 tune behind the scenes. 
 
 THE FORGE 
 
 Finally there is a double return of Bondage and The 
 Ring, and we reach 
 
 S< ENE III., in which, almost at the beginning, as Al- 
 berich is desirous of testing the power of the Magic Helm 
 (The Tarnhelm) which he has made Mime forge for him, 
 the orchestra introduces to us the mysterious harmony 
 by which it is to be musically designated. These chords, 
 which are sometimes given to horns stationed in the 
 wings, produce the most strange effect. The German 
 word Tarnhelm has been variously translated : The En- 
 chanted Helm, The Charm of the Helm, or, again,
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 359 
 
 THE POWER OF THE HELM 
 
 After a loud repetition of the rhythm of The Forge 
 there comes a strange series of disjunct thirds, which 
 seem to represent reflection or profound meditation, ap- 
 plicable to various characters. 
 
 REFLECTION 
 
 Considerably farther on in the same scene when Al- 
 berich, in the fulness of his pride, fondles his Ring and 
 waves it in a threatening manner, is heard for the first 
 time the motiv characteristic of his power and the vanity 
 which arises from it. It is very interesting closely to 
 study this somewhat complex motiv, which in the follow- 
 ing example is given to the orchestra, and in which,
 
 3 6o 
 
 Alberich 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 ALBERICH'S POWER 
 
 though somewhat modified by the use of chromatics and 
 of the minor, we may trace the two forms of The Ador- 
 ation of the Gold (p. 348), followed by the first notes of 
 The Amassing of the Treasure, given below. 
 
 THE AMASSING OF THE TREASURE 
 Loge Alberich
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 361 
 
 (The first form of The Adoration of the Gold is here 
 combined with Bondage.') 
 
 A little farther appears the motiv of The Amassing of the 
 Treasure^ which sheds a passing glory upon the dwarf. 
 
 [It will be found curiously associated with Bondage and The 
 
 Forge, when the captured dwarf is forced to give up his treasure 
 
 to Wofan.] 
 
 Bondage 
 
 The Amassing of the Treasure 
 Bondage 
 
 The Amassing of the Treasure 
 
 A curiously constructed motiv is that which has been 
 called The Nibelung's Cry of Triumph. It is composed 
 
 THE NIBELUNG'S CRY OF TRIUMPH 
 
 Loge
 
 3 62 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 of one bar taken from Walhalla, and another assuming 
 the form peculiar to Loge, thus showing that Alberich 
 already considers himself, by means of lire, the master 
 of the world, and this is why he exults. 
 
 Much more simple, but exceedingly descriptive, is the 
 roaring motiv of The Dragon, which naturally occurs 
 when, at the request of his visitors, the proud dwarf as- 
 sumes this form by the aid of his helm. 
 
 THE DRAGON 
 
 Having captured the dwarf, the gods return to the 
 surface of the earth with their prisoner, which gives rise 
 to a fresh change of scenery and a new symphonic inter- 
 lude. The latter begins with a reminiscence, which is 
 most certainly ironical, of The Nibelung's Cry of Triumph, 
 in which the element of fire, Loge, displays an unusual 
 development ; The Ring appears joyously and ends with 
 I he- Lamentation ; then reappear the sounds of The Forge, 
 but gradually dying away ; the feeling is given that we 
 are going over the same road in the contrary direction. 
 After a return of Flight, the motiv of The Giants is
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 3 6 3 
 
 faintly heard, as if to remind us that they are not far off; 
 it is combined with IValhalla, then with Bondage, and is 
 connected with the succeeding scene by means of a 
 pedal on the dominant, above which is heard The Adora- 
 tion of the Gold. 
 
 Scene IV. — At the very beginning of the scene 
 in the 9th bar, an amusing little leaping figure represents 
 the god Loge, joyfully dancing and snapping his fingers 
 around the bound dwarf. Without having the character 
 of a Leit-motiv, it is repeated two pages later. Note 
 also the imitative manner in which the orchestra renders 
 the noise of the rubbing together of the cords as Loge 
 gradually frees the Nibelung from his bonds. 
 
 Immediately he is free, the following menacing rhythm 
 darkly mutters in the depths of the " mystic abyss," 
 
 THE NIBELUNGS' WORK OF DESTRUCTION 
 
 expressing the continuous labour by which the vindictive 
 gnomes will henceforth ceaselessly undermine the divine 
 abode, sapping at its base until it is completely ruined. 
 
 [This easily recognizable rhythm will not reappear in Die 
 Walkiire, but it will be found very frequently in Siegfried and 
 in G6tterdammeruJig.~\ 
 
 Alberich, in a phrase of demoniacal expression, imme- 
 diately hurls his anathema at the Ring, which he curses, 
 and which henceforth shall bring misfortune on all its 
 possessors.
 
 3 6 4 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 Alberich 
 
 CURSE OF THE RING 
 
 This malevolent motiv is nearly always acccompanied 
 bv the rhythm of Destruction, and, towards the end of the 
 curse, by dlbericb's Poiver, which is immediately qualified 
 with Bondage. 
 
 The action proceeds without the necessity of any new 
 motive being introduced till the moment of the appear- 
 ance of Erda, who in sinister tones announces the theme 
 of The Nonis, her daughters, the Fates of Scandinavian 
 
 THE NORNS 
 
 ^»'"' j: JrM
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 3 6 5 
 
 mythology. This moth reproduces, in the minor and in 
 
 4-time, the principal form of The Rhine, the original 
 
 element. 
 
 In the same way by contrary motion the Fall of the 
 
 Gods l is derived from it ; this, as well as The Ring, 
 
 appears with the last words of Erda's prophecy, which 
 
 has been accompanied by The Norm and The IVork of 
 
 Destruction. 
 
 THE FALL OF THE GODS 
 
 The numerous Lett-motive which have been already 
 created suffice for Wagner until the formidable Incanta- 
 tion of the Thunder, which stormily echoes on the blaring 
 
 brass. 
 
 INCANTATION OF THE THUNDER 
 
 Donner 
 
 1 The classic term adopted is The Dusk of the Gods (Gotter- 
 dammerung) ; I employ the word Fall here for the purpose of 
 avoiding in the rest of this analysis any confusion between this 
 Leit-motiv and the Gotterdammerung Day of the Tetralogy.
 
 3 66 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 [This theme will only reappear once, in the Prelude of 
 Die Walkiire.~\ 
 
 After the passage of a brief storm, there quickly 
 appears the radiant and serene theme of The Rainbow, 
 tracing its beautiful span beneath a measured and spark- 
 ling trill of the violins, flutes, and all the shrill 
 instruments. 
 
 THE RAINBOW 
 
 fe^ J i 
 
 p do tee 
 
 [This motiv will not reappear in any of the other divisions.] 
 
 T he motiv of Walhalla accompanies the passage of 
 the gods across the celestial bridge. We feel that
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 3 6 7 
 
 Wotan's brain is busy with the idea of the Ring which he 
 has had to gain, and then relinquish in payment for his 
 palace ; also The Rhine, from which it was originally 
 stolen, and the necessity for creating an invincible 
 means for his defence, thence springs, like a flash of 
 lightning, the thought of The Sword of the Gods, the 
 last new Leit-motiv found in the Prologue. 
 
 THE SWORD 
 
 $ 
 
 53 
 
 J.. iM- F 
 
 The Rhine-Daughters are heard bewailing their stolen 
 gold, and the entry into Walhalla takes place with a 
 pompous reprise of the theme of The Rainbow. 
 
 DIE WALKURE. 
 
 Scene I. — The Prelude represents a storm violently 
 raging ; with roaring blasts, lightning and thunder and 
 torrents of rain, several times The Incantation of the 
 Thunder, combined with the theme of The Tempest itself, 
 is heard ; it is one of the most beautiful storms that 
 exist, either on the stage, or in symphonic composition. 
 
 THE TEMPEST 
 
 * * * $■ 
 
 As the curtain rises, the tempest abates.
 
 3 68 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 Then the six descending notes (B, A, G, F, E, D) of 
 The Tempest motiv, by a slight rhythmical modification, 
 become characteristic of Sieg/na fid's Fatigue (a fatigue 
 partly caused by the tempest), as he staggers in, buffeted 
 and pursued by the storm. 
 
 SIEGMUND'S FATIGUE 
 * "* St.* 
 
 [This fact bears a certain analogy with that which we have 
 already noticed in the transition of the first to the second tableau 
 in Rheingold, where the theme of Walballa seems to arise from 
 that of The Ring which paid for it. Other examples of the 
 same nature, all of which we cannot mention, are fairly numer- 
 ous in this work, and this fusion of motive always logically 
 springs from an association of ideas.] 
 
 This first motiv almost immediately (shortly after Sieg- 
 jinde's entrance) is united with another which we shall 
 find very often associated with it; the latter personifies 
 Sieglindc's tender sympathy for Siegmund, and has been 
 called Compassion : 
 
 COMPASSION
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNKR 
 
 3^9 
 
 At the conclusion of a fine unaccompanied violoncello 
 passage, which is taken from Siegmund 1 s Fatigue, reappears 
 the motiv of Flight which we have already seen in Rhein- 
 gold, where it has quite another rhythm and was com- 
 bined with Freia. Here it is united with a new theme, 
 Love, which may be thus explained : it is Flight which 
 has brought Siegmund under Sieglinde's roof, and which 
 consequently is primarily responsible for their Love. 
 
 FLIGHT 
 
 LOVE 
 
 [Some pages farther on, the theme of Love will precede 
 Flight ; it will then signify that Love in its turn is the cause of 
 the Flight of the twins.] 
 
 At the moment when Siegmund, somewhat refreshed 
 and already about to depart, at Sieglinde's instance de- 
 cides to remain under her roof, we hear for the first time 
 one of the themes which are stamped with noble sadness 
 which will henceforth represent the race which, although 
 of divine origin, is so profoundlv unhappy and persecuted, 
 The 11 iilsungs. 
 
 24
 
 37° 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 THE RACE OF THE WALSUNGS 
 
 m*=*=n m 
 
 p IrunanUlo fd isprt-ssii-o 
 
 m 
 
 
 Associated with Compassion, and then followed by Love, 
 this beautiful theme is heard twice almost consecutively 
 before Hunting s arrival. 
 
 Scene II. — The theme of the latter, although of 
 noble character, by its violence, its harsh rhythm and 
 rude orchestration, forms a startling contrast with the 
 preceding one, and from this moment the characters of 
 
 HUNDING 
 
 F IW 
 
 the two men are clearly defined ; in proportion as Sieg- 
 mund is dignified and resigned in suffering, Hunding 
 appears violent, implacable, and brutal. The whole 
 dialogue between the enemies is illustrated by these two 
 motive alternating, with some short appearances of Love 
 and Compassion, corresponding to a word, or even a ges- 
 ture, of Sieglinde's, also The Treaty, The Storm, and even 
 [fulhalla, according to the former events to which the 
 poem alludes. It is only when the Walsung ends the 
 story of his misfortunes, that to the first theme of The
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 37 1 
 
 Race of the I! alsungs there immediately follows and is 
 joined a second theme of a similar sentiment but par- 
 ticularly characterizing The Heroism of that race in the 
 sufferings which pursue it. 
 
 THE HEROISM OF THE WALSUNGS 
 
 Before the close of the scene, when Sieglinde tries to 
 direct her guest's attention to the weapon which is im- 
 bedded in the ash, we twice hear the mot'tv of The Sword, 
 immediately followed by the menace of Hunding. 
 
 Scene III. — This scene, one of the most affecting 
 of the noble work, passes with the aid of the motive we 
 already know, to which, towards the end of Sieglinde's 
 story, is added a startling trumpet passage and a rich 
 passage for the violins, which remind us of Weber, and 
 are often repeated, but only in this scene. Then after 
 a gust of wind which is represented by arpeggios on the 
 harps, a gust at which the massive door suddenly opens, 
 there appears the radiant and delicious Hymn to Spring,
 
 Yi 1 
 
 Siegmund 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 HYMN TO SPRING 
 
 which, although constituting an independent figure, may 
 also be considered as a Leit-motiv, since it will be the sub- 
 ject of many suggestive references in the following act. 
 
 Shortly afterwards, in company with the motive of 
 Love, Fre'ia, goddess of Love, and Spring, appears Delight, 
 
 Sieglinde 
 
 DELIGHT
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 373 
 
 a caressing and intoxicating motiv which we shall meet 
 with again in the Prelude to Scene III. in Act II. 
 Siegmund is about to tear out the sword; then appear 
 the motive of The Wdlsungs, Heroism, The Treaty, The 
 Sword, and the terrible formula of The Renunciation of 
 Love, and on a powerful development of the latter the 
 Sword of the Gods is in Siegmund's grasp ; at this precise 
 moment the theme of The Sword reaches its greatest 
 splendour, and the act ends with symphonic combina- 
 tions of former motive, the most important of which are 
 Love, Spring, and Flight, and, finally, in the last two 
 chords, Bondage. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Prelude. — This Prelude is composed of the most 
 curious mixture of themes which are harsh, or made 
 harsh by circumstances, which from the very beginning 
 gives us a premonition of The Ride of the JValkyries, 
 which, however, does not appear till the end. 
 
 In the opening bar we recognize The Sword, although 
 quite changed in rhvthm and kev ; then follow Flight, 
 which in the same manner is merged into The Shout of 
 the JValkyries, Delight, and then the final burst, The Ride 
 of the I Valkyries.
 
 374 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 THE RIDE OF THE WALKYRIES 
 
 &&■ 
 
 ^m 
 
 mw^ 
 
 ^ *?■ 
 
 T'f- £ 
 
 f f£=# 
 
 ^ 
 
 s 
 
 s 
 
 nUti 
 
 -£i* 
 
 i j'j,jj; f 1 or 
 
 Scene I. — The strident Shout of the IValkyries; with 
 which Briinnhilde makes her first appearance, presents 
 us with the peculiarity, which is perhaps unique in Wag- 
 ner's work, of a phrase of 18 bars, complete in itself, 
 ending with a cadence and twice repeated almost imme- 
 diately afterwards without the least change of melody, 
 harmony, or orchestration. 
 
 THE SHOUT OF THE WALKYRIES 
 
 Brunnhilde
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 375 
 
 The entrance of Fricka, which immediately follows, 
 is announced by the two notes of Bondage ; her discus- 
 sion with Wotan affords opportunity for repetitions of 
 Handing, Love, Spring, The Sword, Flight, The Treaty, 
 The Ring, The Treaty ivith the Giants, which subjects 
 often rise to the surface, either in their speech, or in 
 their minds. 
 
 When Wotan finds himself conquered by the argu- 
 ments and persistence of the virtuous but peevish goddess," 
 the orchestra introduces us to a new figure which repre- 
 sents Wotan in anger, l-Votaris Rage, 
 
 WOTAN'S RAGE 
 
 ')■(, - If f~ 
 
 ^^5 
 
 — p 
 
 sJ 
 
 
 n 5 
 
 5 % 
 
 
 
 It should be rem. rked that t - r very significant form, 
 which will be very frequently used, is often reduced to 
 its first two notes, resembling those of Bondage, which is 
 easily explicable, but in that case it almost always pre- 
 serves the gruppetto which so energetically accents the first 
 note, and gives it the character of a kind of rumble.
 
 37^ 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 Brunnhilde's return brings back The Ride, accompa- 
 nied by The Shout; after which Fricka celebrates the 
 victory which she has just gained over her husband with 
 a highly expressive phrase, which is as though sealed as 
 a pact by The Treaty, followed, immediately Fricka has 
 disappeared, by The Curse of the Ring, and JVotans Rage, 
 which links it with the next scene. 
 
 Scene II. — This long scene, in which Wotan is 
 forced to confess his crimes and errors to his daughter as 
 well as the circumstances which led him to commit them, 
 cannot fail to bring them to our mind by means of the 
 Leit-motiv e ; we find Love, The Treaty, Love's Regret, 
 The Power of the Ring,' Walhalla, The Norm, The Ride, 
 The Ring, and The Treaty with the Giants. Only one 
 new figure appears, that which characterizes The Distress 
 of the Gods; then return The Curse of the Ring, The Sword, 
 
 THE DISTRESS OF THE GODS 
 
 3 
 
 a=t 
 
 £ 
 
 lui 
 
 £ 
 
 and The Nibelungs' JVork of Destruction ; here also we find 
 that strange transformation of IValhalla (mentioned on 
 p. 35 i), which reveals the edifice in ruins, crumbling away, 
 and appears twice at an interval of 20 bars, announcing 
 the fall and annihilation of the race of the Gods. How- 
 ever, the dominating tnotiv, especially at the beginning, 
 is that of Wotan's Rage. When we have succeeded in 
 overcoming the painful impression caused by the situation, 
 this scene, notwithstanding its length, stands out as one 
 of the finest in the work •, but it is also one of the most 
 difficult to grasp on the first reading or hearing.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 377 
 
 At the moment when Briinnhilde, being left alone, 
 gathers up -her arms, we should note the theme >f //, 
 Ride, dulled and saddened ; immediately afterwards her 
 thoughts carry her away to The Race of the W'dlsungs, 
 and then settle on 11 'atari's Rage and The Distress of the 
 Gods. All this is wonderfully expressed. 
 
 Scenk III. — Siegmund and Sieglinde come in flying 
 before the pursuing Hunding; the motiv of Flight, pre- 
 sented in a thousand ways, each one more ingenious than 
 the other, does all the work of the scene for ten pages 
 or so, sometimes accompanied by Love, sometimes by 
 Delight. After a recall of the Heroism of the Wdlsungi 
 and The Sword, Hunding is announced by the rhythm of 
 his motiv, given to the drums, immediately followed by 
 Pursuit and the hoarse cry of his hounds. 
 
 Sieglinde 
 
 PURSUIT 
 
 When Sieglinde falls fainting in Siegmund's arms, 
 Love returns with the memory of Flight. 
 
 Scene IV. — Here we find one of the most important 
 scenes. Briinnhilde comes to announce to the hero that 
 he must die. The orchestra informs us that Fate has 
 decided the Death of Siegmund, and that he is to go 
 to Walhalla.
 
 37 ! 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 The two following motive, which are intimately con- 
 nected, should be closely examined : first comes Fate, 
 
 FATE 
 
 Wt i g 
 
 h=± 
 
 jL-sJ 
 
 \f\ft\H~~ 
 
 m 
 
 (Wv 
 
 |V*"— 
 
 6 g 
 
 & 
 
 4^3 
 
 -X^5- 
 
 £75* 
 
 8^J 
 
 the harmonization of which is almost invariable, and the 
 formula of which, generally twice repeated, separated by 
 rests, rises like an enigmatical and gloomy note of in- 
 terrogation ; Death is evidently derived from it, since 
 by suppressing the first three notes we find ourselves 
 in the presence of the double formula of Fate. 
 
 DEATH 
 
 M 
 
 m 
 
 ii=£ 
 
 pp 
 
 «r 
 
 FT 
 
 pp: 
 
 as 
 
 These new motive, mingled with those of Walhalla, 
 of /mV/, of 77>* ^/V/^, of Love with Flight, of IVotarfs 
 Rage, and of Love's Regret suffice as commentary on the 
 action while Briinnhilde describes to Siegmund, who is 
 not willing to leave Sieglinde, the splendours and de- 
 lights of the celestial abode ; but at the moment when 
 the desperate Walsung raises his blade above his sleeping 
 wife, we hear for the first time, though in a still vague 
 form, the theme of Siegfried Guardian of the Sword (Act
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 379 
 
 III. Scene I.), which informs us of the existence of the 
 child in its mother's frame. It is then that Briinn- 
 hilde, touched with tender emotion by this act of hero- 
 ism, decides to transgress the divine commands, and take 
 Siegmund's part, a decision which is to be her ruin ; it 
 is then that, with a marvellous stroke of genius, Wagner 
 suddenly transforms the motiv of Death from the minor 
 to the major, changing its character and introducing into 
 it the rhythm of Flight ; it is now no longer Siegmund's 
 death which is decreed, but Hunding's. From this mo- 
 ment this is how the motiv of Death is transfigured : 
 
 BRUNNMLDE 
 
 r i vt 
 
 rfrffffT 
 
 4 f» - 
 
 m 
 
 ff 
 
 p molto cresc. 
 
 m 
 
 t=^- 
 
 tc 
 
 S3 
 
 HHP 
 
 Briinnhilde having departed, the question of Fate is 
 again asked, combined with Wotan's Rage and joined 
 with Love.
 
 380 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 Scene V. — Scene V. contains no new motive. 
 
 Although very short, it may be considered as divided 
 into tour parts: i, Sicgmund's farewell to the sleeping 
 Sieglinde as he departs for the combat; 2, the hostile 
 pursuit during Sieglinde's dream; 3, the combat, with 
 the double intervention of Briinnhilde and Wotan ; 4, 
 the malediction which Wotan launches at the Walkyrie. 
 During the first part, the tender motive of Love and Freia 
 rule, disturbed by those of Fate and Pursuit. In the 
 second, Hundings savage shout, The Sword and Pursuit, 
 which become more and more insistent. (Here and there 
 occur flashes of lightning similar to those which were 
 seen in the Hist Prelude.) — In the third, the combat; 
 in a few seconds we hear the gallop of Brunnhilde's 
 horse as she comes to encourage Siegmund in the fight, 
 The Ride ; then comes Wotan, who, forced by The 
 Treaty, shatters The Sword ; the death of Siegmund is 
 accompanied by four sorrowful recalls of Bondage, fol- 
 lowed by The Heroism of the JVdlsungs, Fate, and IVotarfs 
 Rage; finally, Briinnhilde lifts the unfortunate Sieglinde 
 upon her horse, whence we have a return of The Ride, 
 and then Fate again and again. All this passes ex- 
 tremely quickly, in less time than it takes to tell. — In 
 the fourth part of the scene, Wotan, while striking 
 Hunding dead with a lightning glance, reflects that he 
 has loyally fulfilled his promise to Fricka, which is told 
 to us by means of The Treaty, which, it will be remem- 
 bered, applies to every pact and contract of any kind 
 whatsoever; besides, far from being appeased, the Rage 
 immediately reappears, and Wotan, breaking out into 
 sudden fury, curses the disobedient Walkyrie and devotes 
 her to a cruel vengeance. The curtain quickly falls 
 while the orchestra recalls to us The Distress of the Gods, 
 as well as various episodes of the act, the flashes of light-
 
 OF RICHARD WACNER 
 
 38i 
 
 ning which illuminated it, and Pursuit, which appeals 
 here for the last time. 
 
 An III. 
 
 Prelude. — The Prelude of the third act needs no 
 comment. It is The Ride in its complete development, 
 with its sonorous neighings and prancings, its wild and 
 exultant cries, its indefatigable activity, its shouts and 
 savage laughter. 
 
 Scene I. — Throughout the first part of this scene 
 while the key of G minor and the rhythm of | reign, it 
 is all borrowed from The Rule, of which, to tell the 
 truth, it is only the continuation, with the exception of 
 a brief allusion to JValhalla, when Rossueissc asks if it 
 is time to go there, twenty-three bars before the ^ ! in 
 C minor, which announces Brunnhilde's arrival. There, 
 although its rhythm is changed, we recognize the figure 
 in the bass of The Distress of the Gods; shortly after- 
 wards in D minor it is the song of Death and then 
 Flight. No other rhythm appears with such importance 
 until the words of Schwertleite describing the Dragon 
 keeping watch over the Ring. 
 
 In the I by Briinnhilde appears in all its grandeur 
 the splendid theme of Siegfried Guardian of the Sword, 
 
 SIEGFRIED GUARDIAN OF THE SWORD 
 
 Brunnhilde
 
 3 82 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 of which we only gained a glimpse in the fourth scene 
 of the preceding act, immediately followed by The 
 Sword ; then, when Sieglinde speaks, there appears the 
 enthusiastic and sublime motlv of The Redemption by 
 Love. 
 
 THE REDEMPTION BY LOVE 
 Sieglinde 
 
 jCL.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 383 
 
 [The latter will o nly appear again in the last scene of 
 Gotterdammerung, where it will acquire a preponderating im- 
 portance, and will furnish the touching crown of the entire 
 work.] 
 
 Immediately afterwards The Storm reappears with 
 Bondage, and then a very brief ensemble of the eight 
 Walkyries brings the scene to a conclusion. 
 
 Scene II. — The second scene (Wotan's reprimands 
 of Briinnhilde in the presence of her sisters, who at 
 hist try to conceal her, and then to defend her), is 
 dramatically impressive enough in itself to dispense 
 with Leit-motive ; however, after a time, we find, fre- 
 quently renewed, Wotan's Rag?, then Death, superbly 
 developed, The Treaty, and, finally, at the moment of 
 the departure of the Walkyries, The Ride, which here 
 resembles a rout, and from which a broad phrase 
 detaches itself and stands out, bearing some analogy 
 with Death. 
 
 Scene III. — The beginning of the scene for some 
 considerable time makes use of only two typical motive, 
 one of which is The Rage, which we know. The 
 other, which first appears in the fourth bar in a figure on 
 the violoncello, here represents poor Briinnhilde's sub- 
 missive resignation to the paternal will, which is about 
 to impose on her a new life, a human existence : 
 
 it is repeated in the same way seven bars later, and then 
 it is modified in the I02d bar, this time on the violins :
 
 3^4 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 It must be regarded as a preparatory form, a sort of 
 leading up to a very important moth which will shortly 
 appear on the arrival of the key of E major, The 
 Announcement of a New Life, 
 
 THE ANNOUNCEMENT OF A NEW LIFE 
 
 Briinnhilde 
 
 ^Mf JV If Jlylf , Jflj, 
 
 S 
 
 is 
 
 tapPi 
 
 hut will only attain its fullest expansion in the sym- 
 phonic part which precedes Wotan's farewell, this time 
 in i, almost at the end of the act.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 385 
 
 * 3 
 
 From this moment Leit-motive occur more fre- 
 quently : Love's Regret, The Curse of the Ring, Fate, 
 The Treaty, Love, The Heroism of the JVdlsungs, Sieg- 
 fried Guardian of the Sword, then The Sword; finally, 
 when Wotan utters his inflexible doom, we hear for the 
 first time the mysterious harmony of Eternal Sleep 
 
 Wotan 
 
 ETERNAL SLEEP 
 
 f ri ^~i 
 
 it 
 
 ^m 
 
 f=if 
 
 ' *V j. H 
 
 V— W- 
 
 ^ 
 
 T 
 
 -\<s 
 
 $ 
 
 W 
 
 ^Whn^- 
 
 fwhich will frequently reappear at the end of this work and in 
 the following ones without being applied to one character more
 
 3 86 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 than another, and sometimes accompanied by a figure borrowed 
 from The Flames]. 
 
 Here we hear it repeated twice in succession sepa- 
 rated by a brief reminiscence of Walhalla. 
 
 Almost immediately we have several premonitions, at 
 first in the minor, 
 
 of the striking mot'iv which is soon to become The 
 Sleep of the J Valkyrie : 
 
 BRUNNHILDE'S SLEEP 
 
 The latter now assumes more and more importance and 
 brings to a conclusion the second division of the Tetral- 
 ogy, accompanied by the leaping of the flames of Loge:
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 3«7 
 
 But first occurs the affecting scene of Wotan's 
 Farewell and the Fire Incantation. We may consider 
 it as beginning exactly at that place of which we have 
 already spoken when the motlv of The Announcement of 
 a New Life in E major and | time again appears in its 
 most magnificent and dazzling aspect, rising in a 
 splendid crescendo, and majestically bursting forth on 
 a chord of the fourth and sixth in the theme of Brunn- 
 bilde's Sleep. 
 
 Then Sleep deepens, the minor key reappears, and, in 
 a beautiful passage (at the eighteenth bar of the minor), 
 we hear the phrase which is properly called JVotarfs 
 Song of Farewell, full of tenderness and emotion, which 
 will never again be separated from the figure of Sleep. 
 
 WOTAN'S SONG OF FAREWELL 
 Wotan
 
 3 88 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 Next comes Fate, The Renunciation of Love, then, at 
 the moment when his words cease, Eternal Sleep, during 
 which the Walkyrie falls asleep in the arms of the god. 
 And while he lays her upon the rock, places her weapons 
 by her side, and covers her with her shield, the orchestra 
 repeats to us in its complete development that touching 
 phrase of the Fareivell Song, with the caressing inter- 
 weavings of Sleep. 
 
 Then comes the Fire Incantation. Immediately the 
 motive change. First comes The Treaty, then the 
 chromatic figure of Loge • and again The Treaty, this 
 time followed by The Flames' Spell. These two motive 
 (Loge and The Flames' »Syy//) never cease to pursue each 
 other while the rock is being surrounded by flames, and 
 serve as an accompaniment to whatever others are in- 
 troduced until the fall of the curtain. Then once more 
 appears Eternal Sleep, in the arpeggio form which we 
 have above noticed on p. (386), and then, this time to 
 last until the end, Briinnhilele's Sleep, becoming increas- 
 ingly placid and spell-bound. 
 
 No words could express Wotan's last words ; they 
 reproduce in its entirety and majestically amplified, the 
 beautiful moth of Siegfried Guardian of the Szuord, which 
 is immediately repeated by the orchestra, which con- 
 cludes it with the solemn phrase of Wotan's Farewell.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 389 
 
 Ten bars before the end, during Wotan's last look at his 
 sleeping daughter, without any interruption either of 
 Sleep, or of the leaping of the Flames, the sinister menace 
 of Fate heavily mutters; then there is a great peace, and 
 the curtain slowly falls. 
 
 SIEGFRIED 
 
 Act I. 
 
 Prelude. — If we regard the Tetralogy in its en- 
 tirety as a kind of immense symphony conceived in 
 gigantic proportions, one movement of which answers to 
 each day, Siegfried appears as its Scherzo, its impetuous 
 Intermezzo. 
 
 Ev erything in it is gay, agile, and alert, like the youth- 
 ful hero himself; even the comic element has its place 
 here, and frequently appears in the role of Mime. The 
 majority of the new motive present rhythms which are 
 vigorous and gay, or are stamped with a youthful ardour 
 which is very contagious. Here also musicians will find 
 the most novel harmonies, — the most daring, if the 
 reader prefers, — which are sometimes difficult to ex- 
 plain, and among them the most amusing combinations 
 of Lett-motive. The Siegfried Day is one of repose 
 and freshness, from which the tragic element is almost 
 entirely excluded, to the great relief of the mind and 
 imagination, only to reappear in a still more poignant 
 form on the morrow. 
 
 The Prelude is constructed on themes already known : 
 first Refection, then The Amassing of the Treasure, inter- 
 rupted by a brief allusion to JFotans Rage, which is 
 quickly transformed into Bondage, The Forge, The Nibel- 
 ung's Cry of Triumph, The Ring, The Sivord, The 
 Dragon, with a modified rhythm, in fact, all that are 
 
 r $y*
 
 39° 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 necessary to let us know beforehand that we are in the 
 rude Forge in which the crafty Mime labours, scheming 
 to gain in his turn the treasure which will assure to him 
 the dominion of the world. 
 
 Scene I. — The same motive, or others equally well- 
 known, supply the first scene until the arrival of Sieg- 
 fried, which is joyously announced by his Call of the Son 
 of the Woods, the hunting-call of the young and intrepid 
 hero, breathing forth freedom, boldness, and good 
 humour. 
 
 CALL OF THE SON OF THE WOODS 
 
 fffr^rJfl i C£ftt;g 
 
 [We shall find it in this same § time, but greatlv developed 
 in the key of F, in Scene II., for it is with this that Siegfried 
 defies the Dragon ; and again, at the beginning of the third act 
 of Gotterdammerung.~\ 
 
 [Note that this same moth, transformed and in 4-time, will 
 appear on other occasions in the Gotterdammerung, where it 
 will assume a specially heroic character, and lose all its 
 joyousnes.] 
 
 
 ItWIvp- 1 
 
 g f— "f f 
 
 
 p I* - •f 
 
 rff~ 
 
 gj , 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 P 
 
 4A; U ... ^^ 1 
 
 
 
 N ■ also the curious combination of this motiv with those 
 of The Flames and Eternal Sleep which is found in the third 
 il Siegfried, when the hero is about to pass the circle of 
 fire in which the Walkyric is sleeping.]
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 The Flames' Spell 
 
 Immediately Siegfried, at two successive repetitions of 
 The Guardian of the Sword, has made the sword which 
 Mime has forged Hv into splinters, a new motiv appears 
 which is full of animation ; this is The Love of Life, 
 which will dominate a great part of the scene ; it must 
 rather be regarded as the exuberance of life, the joy of 
 living, a joy which is almost childlike : 
 
 Siegfried 
 
 THE LOVE OF LIFE
 
 39 2 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 B 
 
 b± 
 
 ff 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 J»« /. 
 
 5^ 
 
 ^fr 
 
 nrjijiii 
 
 It is scarcely interrupted except by the Whining Com- 
 plaint of Mime (|, - F minor), who begins again his 
 story to Siegfried for the tenth time, without any greater 
 success in convincing him of the benefits of the educa- 
 tion which he has given him, and tries to appeal to his 
 affection by his false solicitude. Siegfried is not in the 
 least impressed, and prefers to speak of the love of 
 children for their mother, which he himself has noticed, 
 first in the birds, and then in the beasts, which leads 
 him to imperiously desire to know the name of his 
 mother. 
 
 The whole of this portion flows by on a sweet and 
 caressing melody which characterizes the ingenuous 
 feeling of Filial Love as he conceives it, 
 
 FILIAL LOVE 
 
 CTKlrlS^M jUL 
 
 which is frequently broken into by tempestuous returns 
 of the complaint of his education, as also by allusions to
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 393 
 
 various motive of The If "dhungs^ The Forge, and The 
 Sword, the appropriateness of which is always most 
 striking : he speaks of having seen his image reflected in 
 the water (Siegfried Guardian of the Sword ) ; what water 
 was this ? {The Rhine} ; the story of his birth is accom- 
 panied by The Race of the II alsungs, Compassion, and 
 Love ; the whole surrounded by The Love of Life. 
 
 When at last he knows his origin, an intense desire 
 arises in his heart to leave forever the tutelage of the 
 obnoxious dwarf, which is marvellously expressed in an 
 independent phrase in ^, towards the end of which we 
 meet with the following three bars, which various com- 
 mentators call by the name of Wandering Siegfried, 
 Travel Song, and Desire to Travel. We shall make use 
 of the last name. 
 
 DESIRE TO TRAVEL 
 
 i 
 
 w 
 
 ±a 
 
 !■=♦ 
 
 mm 
 
 $ 
 
 L. n i uj — n 
 
 ^^ 
 
 ^^ 
 
 31^ 
 
 ^F 
 
 [This same motiv will be found expressing the same feeling 
 in the Prologue to Gbtterdammerung, when Siegfried is about to 
 leave Briinnhilde to seek new adventures, then again in Act I. 
 Scene II. in the dialogue with Gunther.] 
 
 The Ring, The Forge, Reflection, The Dragon, and 
 Love's Regret connect this scene with the following one. 
 
 Scene II. — Coinciding with the entrance of Wota.i 
 under the form of The Wanderer, there appears the 
 powerful and mysterious harmony of llotan the
 
 394 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 Wanderer, or Wot an 's Journey, which is divided into 
 two parts, one strange and chromatic, the other entirely 
 diatonic and of a placid solemnity, which will be subse- 
 quently used separately, but only in Siegfried. 
 
 WOTAN THE WANDERER 
 
 Mime 
 
 The way in which the music of this curious scene, so 
 curious from all points of view, is managed, is worthy 
 of close attention and examination. 
 
 At first it is with the theme of The Treaty that the 
 god forces the gnome to accept the singular wager, the 
 stake of which is the head of one of them ; and, after 
 malicious Reflection, it is with the same nwtiv that the 
 dwarf accepts the challenge ; we feel that he means to 
 be tricky in his turn, and carrv it off" bravely.
 
 OP^ RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 395 
 
 Then, every time- Mime is searching his mind for 
 questions to put, his search is accompanied by sounds of 
 The Forge and of the moth of Reflection, to which are 
 joined, but only the first time, The Treaty, which binds 
 him, and The Ring, the object of his covetousness. 
 
 His first question refers to "the race which lives in 
 the bowels of the earth." Wotan's reply is annotated 
 by all the motive of the Nibelungs, The Forge, The Ring, 
 Alberich's Potuer, Adoration of the Cold, The Ni belting's 
 Cry of Triumph, Amassing of the Treasure, and finally 
 The Treaty. 
 
 His second question deals with " that other race which 
 lives on the surface of the earth." Immediately, with 
 reply appear the motive of The Giants, The Power of the 
 Ring, The Dragon, and still The Treaty. 
 
 His third question concerns " the race which hovers 
 above the peaks, among the clouds." Then JValhalla 
 is unfolded in all its splendour, followed by an allusion 
 to the defeated Alberich and The Ring. However, in 
 the course of this victorious reply of the wandering god, 
 there appears a new theme of majestic character, — 
 [which, considerably modified and enlarged, will assume great 
 importance in the Gbtterdammerung Day :] 
 
 it is that of Divine Power, only the first half of which I 
 
 give here, 
 
 „. ... . DIVINE POWER 
 
 The Wanderer
 
 39 6 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 and which ends, as may be seen in the score, with a 
 long descending scale which has nothing triumphant left 
 in it. 
 
 II 'Ami the II anderer has fulfilled his part of The Treaty 
 which was concluded; the orchestra joins him in so 
 stating. It is now his turn to question, and Mime 
 must reply. Immediately there is a cringing and humble 
 figure, which throughout this second half of the scene, 
 the counterpart of the first, depicts the piteous attitude of 
 the malicious Nibelung, now that it is Wotan's turn to 
 ask him questions. 
 
 [It only appears afterwards in Act II. Scene III., shortly 
 before Mime's death.] 
 
 Here is one of its forms. Let us call it Grovelling 
 Afime, as it does not apply to any other character. 
 
 Mime 
 
 GROVELLING MIME 
 
 rnrn 
 
 ft M; l '-f >T 
 
 mm 
 
 ^ 
 
 m 
 
 * 
 
 ^E 
 
 BE 
 
 ^=F 
 
 T 
 
 r 
 
 Before his cross-questioning begins, Mime seeks a pre- 
 text to evade it; he says he has dwelt apart so long in 
 his Forge that he no longer knows anything at all: for he 
 has recognized Wotan in The Wanderer, as we learn 
 from a brief reminiscence of Walhalla; however, he has 
 to bow his head beneath Bondage, and therefore he will 
 reply.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 397 
 
 In the first place, Wotan asks him what he knows 
 about "the heroic race to whom he appears to be cruel.' 
 Mime's reply is accompanied by all the motive of the 
 Wdlsungs, their Race, their Heroism, and even Siegfried 
 Guardian of the Sword. 
 
 Secondly, he wishes to know " what steel most the 
 youth brandish to conquer the Ring by overthrowing the 
 Dragon." Here the sole motiv which mingles with those 
 of Grovelling Mhne and The Forge, is The Sword, the 
 sword of the gods. 
 
 Thirdly and finally, he must tell " who will be able to 
 forge again the shattered blade." It is then that Mime 
 is lost, for he does not know that Siegfried is the one ; 
 but the orchestra makes us know it by the persistent re- 
 turn of the Love of Life, which leaves no possible doubt 
 as to the personality of the hero. 
 
 Wotan is about to depart. The strange and solemn 
 harmony which introduced him, IVotan the Wanderer, 
 reappears, soon to give way to The Sword, The Treaty, 
 and The Dragon, when the victorious god devotes the 
 head of the vanquished to him who has never known 
 fear, to him who shall slay the Dragon, otherwise called 
 Siegfried Guardian of the Sword. 
 
 The mocking hisses of Log e are heard beneath Wotan's 
 last words, and continue during- a considerable part of 
 the succeeding scene. 
 
 Scene III. — Although greatly developed and of ab- 
 sorbing interest, this may be quickly analyzed. 
 
 Mime, being left alone, is at first terrified by the 
 crackling of the flames of Loge ; Siegfried returns, and 
 with him the gay motive of Desire to Travel and Love of 
 Life; and then, accompanying in the m ost witty manne r 
 every phrase and almost every word of the dialogue, we 
 successively recogni/.e The Dragon, The Sword, Bondage,
 
 39« 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 Wot an the Wanderer, The Guardian of the Sword, Love of 
 Life, The Raee of the Wdlsungs, I.oge, The Flames' Spell, 
 Eternal Sleep, Brunnhilde's Sleep, and Call of the Son of 
 the Woods. In the meanwhile, Siegfried thinks of noth- 
 ing but of forging for himself a sword with the fragment 
 which Mime has given him. He sets to work and. while 
 filing the steel and blowing up the fire, he gaily sings a 
 joyous song of three couplets, the third with graceful 
 variations, the accompaniment of which imitates the 
 blowing of the bellows of the forge, just as before we 
 heard the scraping of the file : let us call it The Song of 
 the Bellows to distinguish it from another which closely 
 follows it. (Mime, in one corner, is surreptitiously pre- 
 paring a poisoned draught with which he purposes to 
 plunge Siegfried into Eternal Sleep, and which will allow 
 him basely to seize the sword which has been so valiantly 
 restored, after Siegfried shall have conquered the Gold 
 and The Ring to Mime's profit). Shortly after Siegfried 
 has tempered the metal by plunging it in a tank of water, 
 which gives occasion for a curious effect of imitative 
 sound, appears the sole new theme of this scene, which 
 is generally called The Casting of the Steel, which mingles 
 
 THE CASTING OF THE STEEL 
 
 Siegfried
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 399 
 
 i 
 
 muff 
 
 ptu p 
 
 mm 
 
 with a kind of reprise of The Song of the Bellows in the 
 major. 
 
 Here we find a new song, The Song of the Forge, 
 the rhythm of which is accented by blows of the hammer 
 on the anvil, forming a marvellously faithful imitation ; 
 it has only two couplets, which are separated by a reply 
 of Mime's, who is still engaged in his iniquitous opera- 
 tions. 
 
 The second couplet is scarcely finished when Siegfried 
 again plunges the still glowing blade into the water and 
 amuses himself with the noise that it makes as it cools. 
 
 Lastly, while he finishes the work, fixes it in its hilt, 
 and hammers it for the last time, we recognize the motive 
 of The Forge, Grovelling Mime, The Casting of the Steel, 
 and The Sword, with curious rhythms of two or three 
 bars, and finally, when Siegfried cleaves the anvil while 
 trying the temper of his sword, there breaks out the motiv 
 of The Son of the IVoods, which joyously ends the act. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Scene I. — The Prelude, which is intimately con- 
 nected with the first scene, first makes us hear the hoarse 
 growling of Fafner, the survivor of the two Giants of 
 the Prologue, who is changed into a Dragon and jealously
 
 400 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 watches over his treasure and his Ring (I would remind 
 the reader that this mottv of Fafner is none other than a 
 transformation of that of The Giants, the lowest note of 
 which is now half a tone lower). 
 
 FAFNER 
 
 Towards the middle breaks out The Curse of the Ring, 
 which is closely followed by the rhythm of The Nibe- 
 lungs' IVork of Destruction and The Nibelung's Cry of 
 Triumph. Alberich is present. 
 
 To these motive are added, shortly after the rising of 
 the* curtain, a figure of The Ride of the Walkyries, and 
 the theme of The Distress of the Gods, announcing the 
 arrival of the wandering god, who is saluted by J Val- 
 halla. 
 
 The malicious gnome's attitude of mind towards the 
 god, whose not verv gentle dealings he has not forgotten, 
 is manifested by a new motiv, Revenge, which is only of 
 secondary importance. 
 
 REVENGE 
 
 rw ,-pr -j tf _ j |
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 401 
 
 [It will, however, reappear in Gotterdammerung, Act T t. 
 Scenes IV. and V., under a more striking form. J 
 
 Farther on we find the themes of JVotan the JVanderer, 
 fVotan's Rage, The 'Treaty with the Giants, Loge, The Curse 
 of the Ring, and others which are easily recognized. Faf- 
 ner's few words to Wotan are accented by his own theme, 
 with which is curiously united, for a moment, The Sword, 
 which seems to menace The Ring. Then we recognize 
 The Norns and The Desire to Travel; and, at the moment 
 of Wotan's departure, The Ride reappears with a memory 
 of JVotan s Song of Farewell, immediately followed by The 
 Curse of the Ring, twice repeated, with the rhythm of 
 Destruction, and the scene ends as it began, with the ihotiv 
 of Fafner, sinister and menacing. 
 
 Scene II. — Siegfried, conducted by Mime, arrives; 
 The Love of Life and the joyous beginning of the varied 
 strophe of the Bellows Song escorts them with some 
 rhvthms of The Forge and a slight reminiscence of 
 Briinnhilde's Sleep. Mime, being desirous of inspiring 
 his pupil with fear, borrows some chromatic features 
 from Loge ; we hear Fafner roar, to which Siegfried an- 
 swers with The Heroism of the JValsungs ; then The Love 
 of Life is also briefly recalled. 
 
 Mime having gone away, or rather hidden himself, 
 Siegfried remains alone on the stage. Then begins, 
 properly speaking, with figures of semiquavers (|, in E 
 major), the delightful idyl called The Murmurs of the 
 
 26
 
 402 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 Forest, which has already been announced in the preced- 
 ing pages. 
 
 Through these sweet and gentle sounds we perceive 
 the ideas which are thronging into the soul of the young 
 hero; he first thinks of The Race of the W'ahungs, then 
 of his mother, as we learn from Filial Love, which leads 
 him to understand the beauty of Love, here represented 
 by the theme of Fre'ia. But his attention is soon 
 attracted by the song of a bird, which is hopping and 
 warbling in the branches above him ; here are some 
 fragments of this delightful song of The Bird. 
 
 THE BIRD 
 
 A 
 
 f^ u rJin, ,jf,V , ,rlf 
 
 The Bird .^ 
 
 [It is well to know that each 
 of the above fragments will here- 
 after have a precise signification. 
 To give only one example, the 
 third, by which the bird will re- 
 veal to Siegfried the existence of 
 the sleeping Walkyrie, is identical 
 with Brunnbilde's Sleep, which 
 itself is only a transposition, with certain rhythmical modifications, 
 of the Rhine-Daughters. ,]
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 403 
 
 [From this time on, we shall find perpetual allusions to and 
 quotations from this Song of the Bird, some of considerable ex- 
 tent and forcibly commanding the attention, others consisting 
 only of a few notes ; an example of the latter will be found in 
 the instrumental interlude while Siegfried is passing through the 
 flames (Act III. at the end of Scene II.). Here four motive 
 are in conjunction.] 
 
 Adoration of the Gold 
 
 The Bird 
 
 rrrn mm 
 
 The Son of the Woods 
 
 J" 
 
 fwp pmj ^p m 
 
 Now, Siegfried, having listened to the Bird, first tries 
 to imitate it by means of a rustic pipe, which he has cut 
 with his Sword; this furnishes an amusing incident. 
 Not being successful, he puts his horn to his lips and 
 sounds his joyous call, The Call of the Son of the /foods, 
 to which he adds, as if to make himself better known, 
 Siegfried Guardian of the Sword.
 
 4 o 4 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 He receives his answer from the frightful jaws of The 
 Dragon ; it is Fafner who is coming out of his cave to 
 give battle to his challenger. The combat takes place ; 
 The Sword reaches his heart ; Fafner is dying. But, 
 before thing, he retraces his history, on which the 
 orchestra comments by means of several appropriate 
 Leit-motive : The Work of Destruction, The Curse of the 
 Ring, The Guardian of the Sword, his conqueror, The 
 Giants, The Ring, The Dragon, The Son of the Woods, 
 and, finally, Fafner dies, on a stroke of the drum, at 
 the second beat of the bar. 
 
 A brilliant flourish of The Son of the Woods celebrates 
 this first victory, and then there immediately rise again 
 The Murmurs of the Forest. But this time the language 
 of The Bird has become intelligible to the young warrior, 
 because he has tasted the blood of the Dragon ( ?) ; and 
 also to us, but for another reason : because it is given to 
 the soprano. 
 
 Scene III. — The third scene, notwithstanding its 
 great development and complexity, does not introduce us 
 to any new motiv ; we have therefore only to look for 
 those which we already know. To make it clearer, let 
 us consider it as if it were divided into four parts. 
 
 In the first (the dialogue between Mime and Alberich), 
 the sole motive, lightlv sketched, are : The Power of the 
 Helm, The Forge, and The Nibelung's Cry of Triumph. 
 
 In the second (as Siegfried issues from the cavern) 
 appear : The Ring, The Adoration of the Gold, The Gold, 
 and then again The Murmurs of the Forest^ which is soon 
 associated with The Race of the Wdhungs. 
 
 In the third (when Mime- obsequiously approaches 
 Siegfried), first conn- The Bird and The Casting of 
 the Steel; then, farther on, the Whining Complaint, 
 whose deceitful tone belies the words; at the mo-
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 405 
 
 ment of Mime's death, note the singular succession of 
 descending and discordant thirds, borrowed from Reflec- 
 tion, which, joined with Alberich's mocking laughter 
 (77?!? Forge), forms a funeral oration which is somewhat 
 pitiful, but, at the same time, quite good enough for him. 
 In the fourth part (which extends from there to the 
 end of the scene) reappear The Curse of the Ring, The 
 Forge, when Siegfried casts Mime's corpse into the cave; 
 Fafner, when he rolls the Dragon s body into it ; then 
 The Ring, and, followed by a recall of The Bird, comes 
 the song of Filial Love, which, with certain reminis- 
 cences of The Forge, leads us to a final return of The 
 Murmurs of the Forest. This time The Bird proposes to 
 Siegfried to lead him to the Walkyrie who is asleep in 
 the heart of a circle of flames (p. 402) ; thus the last 
 motive of this act are : The Flames' Spell, Siegfried Guar- 
 dian of the Sword, Britnnhilde's Sleep, and, dominating 
 them all, the warbling of The Bird, which does not cease 
 until the final chord. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Prelude. — A persistent rhythm of The Ride fore- 
 warns us of the approach of Wotan. At the same time 
 appears an imposing ascending figure from the bass, in 
 which we recogni/oe The Morns, or The Distress of the 
 Gods, or again, as it passes into the major, The Rhine, 
 which are all closely related, both in their contexture 
 and symbolic meaning, and the presence of anv one of 
 which in this place is equally explicable. JVotarCs Race, 
 The Fall of the Gods, and Alberich's Power, appear here 
 and there, and the Prelude is merged into 
 
 Scene I. by the mysterious and solemn music of 
 Eternal Sleep, to which succeed without interruption
 
 4-o6 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 Fate, The Treaty, and, just before the Wanderer's first 
 words, The Announcement of a New Life. 
 
 The same motive accompany Wotan's monologue and 
 evocation of Erda, with a recall of Wotan the Wanderer; 
 they also chiefly rule in Erda's reply and dialogue with 
 Wotan, during which in addition there reappear The 
 Ring, Love's Regret, Walhalla, The Ni be lungs' I Fork of 
 Destruction, Motrin's Song of Farewell, and several other 
 motive which are merely indicated. 
 
 It is only at the end of this scene, which is one of the 
 most admirable of the whole Tetralogy, that a new theme 
 appears, The Heritage of the World, that world over which 
 
 THE HERITAGE OF THE WORLD 
 
 Wotan, foreseeing and desiring the end of the gods, does 
 not mean to reign any longer, and which he bequeaths 
 to his son, the triumphant Wiilsung, therefore this motiv, 
 which appears several times before Erda vanishes, is es- 
 corted by all those which most closely relate to the young 
 hero : Siegfried Guardian of the Sivord, The Sword, Jl al- 
 halla, The Power of the Ring, Flight, and Love ; when Erda 
 sinks into the earth four beautiful chords tell us that she 
 has again fallen into her Eternal Sleep. 
 
 Si ink II. — Guided by The Bird, Siegfried approaches, 
 Sword in hand. Wotan bars hi> way and forces him to 
 tell him the purpose of the journey, as well as the reasons 
 which led him to undertake it.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 407 
 
 Hence arise frequent orchestral allusions to The Bird 
 wh'ch has guided him, to Fafner whose blood lu> given 
 him the power of comprehending the song of birds; to 
 The Forge where he was reared ; to The Race of the 
 Wdlsungs from which he sprang; and to The Love of 
 Life which animates him ; The Wanderer's words, on 
 the contrary, are supported bv Wotan the Wanderer, 
 Walhalla, Wotan's Rage, and later The Treaty, by 
 chromatic figures of Loge, by The Flames' Spell, The 
 Ride, and Eternal Sleep, when he declares himself the 
 guardian of the rock where sleeps the Walkyrie ; to 
 these motive Siegfried, constantly inspired b\ the remem- 
 brance of The Bird, opposes his own, The Guardian of 
 tl.<e Sword, and The Race of the II alsungs, and then, at 
 last, with a single stroke, the Sword shatters the god's 
 lance. Then gloomily appear The Treaty, The Fall of 
 the Gods, and Love's Regret, constantly mingled with the 
 joyous warblings of The Bird, and Siegfried springs 
 through the flames, accompanied bv the marvellous com- 
 bination of typical themes which we have already men- 
 tioned (p. 403), and in which we find simultaneously 
 The Call of the Sou of the Hoods, The Flames' Spell, Sieg- 
 fried Guardian of the Sword, The Adoration of the Gold, 
 The Bird, !.■:, , ami, several bars farther on, Eternal Sleep, 
 and Brunnhilde's Sleep. All this procession of Leit- 
 motive takes place while a curtain of flame and fiery 
 vapours hides from view the changing of the scenery. 
 
 Sc ink III. — The vapours dissipate while the motive 
 of Brunnhilde's Sleep and Fate are passing, followed bv a 
 brilliant figure on the violins alone, in which we plainly 
 recognize the features of Frela, the goddess of love. 
 Then Fate, The Adoration of the Gold, and The Bird. 
 
 Whilst Siegfried is contemplating the motionless 
 Walkyrie, we hear, at first very faintly, the motiv of
 
 4c8 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 Love's Fascination, which we have not had to mention 
 since the second scene of Rheingold, and which therefore 
 renders its employment particularly expressive. We 
 find Briinnhilde again as though still encircled with the 
 motive in the midst of which we left her, The Ride and 
 JVotan's Song of Farewell, which is given in its entirety ; 
 with several gentle strokes of his Sword, Siegfried cuts 
 the thongs of her cuirass ; Love's Fascination gathers im- 
 portance. The memory of The Race of the IFalsungs 
 is evoked, and necessarily Briinnhilde's Sleep often re- 
 appears, accompanied by the seductive form of Fre'ia, 
 which is interrupted in a sinister manner by the question 
 of Fate, but the delicate interlacings of which graciously 
 announce the awakening of the fallen divinity. 
 
 This awakening occurs upon the clear and luminous 
 chords of Hail to the JVorld, which gloriously glitters, 
 twice repeated, and each time followed by sonorous ar- 
 peggios, and then brilliant scintillations on the harps, 
 
 HAIL TO THE WORLD 
 
 vv fyWw~- f di "l
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 409 
 
 developing into a broad phrase in which a long passage 
 of thirds and a prolonged trill give it quite an Italian 
 character. It is on this salutation that Brunnhilde pro- 
 nounces her first words ; but when she comes to ask. the 
 name of the hero who has awakened her she betrays he r 
 inmost thought and her desire, for her declamation bor- 
 rows the very notes with which Wotan left her, after 
 having put her to sleep upon her rock in the third act 
 of Die JValkure, which are none other than those of 
 Siegfried Guardian of the Sword. 
 
 Siegfried, in his turn, radiantly sings his Hail to Love, 
 which is full of youthful ardour and enthusiasm, ending, 
 like Briinnhilde's Hail to the World, with the phrase in 
 thirds above mentioned, which appeals still more Italian 
 now that it is suntr as a Duet by the two voices. 
 
 Siegfried 
 
 HAIL TO LOVE
 
 4io 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 Immediately after the two holds and the trill which 
 end this portion, the basses vigorously attack the theme 
 of The Race of the IVdlsungs , which is jovously answered 
 by the new motiv of The Enthusiasm of Love, which 
 
 THE ENTHUSIASM OF LOVE 
 
 again is composed of a succession of thirds and sixths, 
 an occurrence sufficiently rare in Wagner to deserve 
 special notice. 
 
 The Heritage of the World next appears, several times 
 in different keys, but now in |, which slightly relieves 
 its solemnity. 
 
 Mingling with it, according to the course of the dia- 
 logue, we shall recognize in particular The Enthusiasm 
 of Love, Hail to Love, The Announcement of a New Life, a 
 reminiscence of IVotarts Rage, and The Ride, and then 
 / ■ i Curse of the Ring, and Bondage ; when the key of
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 411 
 
 E major arrives, we are introduced to two themes which 
 are almost one, the second being the complement of the 
 first. First it is Peace, a motiv of sweet and placid seren- 
 
 PEACE 
 
 ity, which is employed only in this scene into which it 
 introduces an element of calmness and freshness ; then, 
 20 bars farther on, equally tender, but more passionate 
 comes Siegfried Treasure of the World, which we shall 
 find twice again in Gotterd'dmmerung. 
 
 The peaceful motive during the rest of the love-duet 
 which forms this scene arc next associated with most of 
 the motive we have already mentioned, to which must be
 
 412 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 SIEGFRIED TREASURE OF THE WORLD 
 
 Brunnhilde 
 
 added Fate, Brunnhilde' s Sleep, The Dragon, The Ride, 
 which makes only brief appearances, then Siegfried 
 Guardian of the Sword, this time given even by the hero's 
 own lips in the paroxysm of passion ; The Bird, The 
 Shout of the ll'alkxries, after which a last return of The 
 Enthusiasm of Love carries us on to a kind of stretto by 
 the two voices which has received the name ot The De- 
 cision to Love. 1 
 
 1 The three last mentioned motive, Peace, Siegfried Treasure of 
 the World, and The Decision to Love, together with Sleep, are those 
 with which Wagner formed the delightful symphonic piece, The 
 Siegfried Idyl (see p. 51).
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 413 
 
 THE DECISION TO LOVE 
 
 Briinnhilde 
 
 fo'l}i\ 
 
 m 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^i 
 
 
 m 
 
 -*-* 
 
 ^ 
 
 r r > 
 
 r r g 
 
 In this enchanting finale is again interwoven Siegfried's 
 //#// A? Zo-w ; here, again, the two voices unite in fre- 
 quent thirds and sixths, and the final cadence presents an 
 unusual brio. The last chords of the orchestra reproduce 
 the motive of The Guardian of the Sword and The Enthu- 
 siasm of Love. 
 
 GOTTERDAMMERUNG 
 
 Gotterdammerung differs from the two preceding divi- 
 sions in its general form bv the addition of a greatly de- 
 veloped Prologue, which takes the place of a Prelude to 
 the first act, to which it is joined without anv break. 
 This Prologue may perhaps be considered as divided in 
 two parts ; the first is the fine sombre scene of The 
 Norns weaving the cord of destiny of gods as well as 
 men ; the second shows us Bi iinnhilde's farewell to Sieg- 
 fried who is setting out for fresh conquests. 
 
 Prologue. — From the very first chords, we recog- 
 nize Briinnhilde's Hail to the World, immediately fol-
 
 4H 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 lowed by the undulatory movement of the primordial 
 clement, The Rhine, which changes , (at the moment 
 when the first Norn is about to speak) into The Distress 
 of the Gods; four bars later comes The Flames' Spell. As 
 the three Sisters in their conversation pass in review all 
 the events which we have seen happen during the pre- 
 ceding days of the Tetralogy, it is natural that the or- 
 chestra should also make the motive that correspond to 
 the various phases of the drama defile before us ; conse- 
 quently we frequently find JValhalla, Hail to Walhalla, 
 Death, The Power of the Gods, The Treaty, The Fall of 
 the Gods, Fate, Loge, The Flames' Spell, Eternal Sleep, 
 The Ring, Love's Regret, The Adoration of the Gold, The 
 Nibe lung's Cry of Triumph, The Sword, The Call of the 
 Son of the Woods, and The Curse of the Ring, which are 
 introduced here in the above order, which will allow 
 them to be found easily in the score ; the scene of The 
 Norns ends with the motiv of Fate, twice repeated. 
 
 During the interlude which accompanies the rising of 
 the sun, The Call of the Son of the IVoods, transformed 
 into an heroic character in |, as we have already noticed 
 (on p. 390), is happily combined with a new theme, which 
 personifies Briinnhilde in her human love, in her love as 
 a wife, the beauty of which is marked by an expressive 
 gruppetto. Four bars before Briinnhilde begins to speak, 
 let us draw attention to a short recall of The Ride, en- 
 
 BRUNNHILDE
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 4i5 
 
 circling The Son of the Woods, for it is he and not she, 
 who shall henceforth ride Grane. Fourteen bars later 
 appears another motiv belonging specially to Brimnhilde, 
 characterizing her Herou I. 
 
 HEROIC LOVE 
 
 [The latter will be little used beyond the last two scenes of 
 Act II.] 
 
 These last motive are the dominating ones in the har- 
 monic tissue of this second half of the Prologue, and are 
 associated with some others, which I give, as usual, in 
 the order of their appearance : Hail to Love, Loge, Sieg- 
 fried Guardian of the Sword, Fate, The Heritage of the 
 World, The Ring, The Ride, The Rhine-Daughters' cry 
 of joy, The Gold, The Ride, Love, Desire to Travel, and 
 The Sword; again we have the motiv of Briinnhilde, as 
 she gazes after the departing hero, at the beginning of 
 several pages which separate the Prologue from the Hist 
 act ; then when he is no longer visible we hear in the 
 distance his joyous hunting call, The Call of the Son of the 
 Woods in its original form ; in this entr'acte we recognize 
 also The Derision to Love, Love's Regret, Adoration of the 
 Gold, The Gold, The Rhine, The Power of the Ring, and 
 finally The Nihelung's Cry of Triumph, only a ivw bars 
 before the rising of the curtain.
 
 4 i6 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 As will be seen, the majority of the preceding Leit- 
 motive are suggestive reminders to the hearer of this vast 
 Prologue, which is a kind of recapitulation and resume of 
 the preceding days, and which predisposes the mind in a 
 marvellous way to the violent emotions aroused in this 
 final drama. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 Scene I. — I purposely pass over several motive of 
 secondary importance, relating to the tribe of the Gibichs 
 and the uncongenial character of Hagen, which appear 
 in the very first notes of the act; although very clearly 
 characterized (so that any intelligent reader can find them 
 for himself), their employment is entirely episodical ; for 
 this reason I will neglect them in this necessarily brief 
 review, and give my whole attention to the great type- 
 motive which dominate the entire work and are neces- 
 sary to its complete comprehension. Note, however, that 
 the motiv of the Gibichs (6th bar in Scene I.) does not 
 let us forget that we are on the banks of The Rhine. 
 
 Hagen takes the lead in this scene; to further his 
 dark schemes he wants Gunther to marry Briinnhilde 
 and Gutrune to become Siegfried's wife. He tries to 
 awake love in their hearts {Freia\\ to Gunthei he de- 
 scribes Briinnhilde on her rock {The Ride, The Flames' 
 Spell, even The Bird); to Gutrune he portrays Siegfried 
 ( Heroism of the Walsungs, Call of the Son of the Woods, The 
 Ring, the victory over Fafner) ; he explains to them the 
 source of his power {Power of the Ring, Love's Regret, 
 The Gold, Alberich's Cry of Triumph) ; and finally he tells 
 them by what magic means he intends to bring about this 
 double marriage, without, however, letting them know 
 that in his inmost heart his sole purpose is to make use 
 of them to gain the Ring and the power with which it is
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNKR 
 
 4i7 
 
 endowed. This situation causes the employment of two 
 
 new motive : one expresses Hagen's Perfidious Friendship 
 for Siegfried, whose death he desires ; and the other 
 
 HAGEN'S PERFIDIOUS FRIENDSHIP 
 
 Gutrune 
 
 Treachery by means of Magic, which is often preceded 
 by several notes of The Poiver of the Helm, which informs 
 
 Hagen 
 
 TREACHERY BY MAGIC 
 
 us that the enchanted helm, The Tarnhelm, is one means 
 
 of which he intends to make use. 
 
 These two new motive appeal' not far apart, a little 
 past the middle of the scene, at the sign meno mossa ; hist 
 comes Treachery^ then two bars of The Power of (he Helm, 
 
 27
 
 4i8 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 and, seventeen bars later, Perfidious Friendship ; they are ac- 
 companied by rare recurrences of The Sword, Fre'ia, and 
 The Curse of the Ring, after which Siegfried announces 
 his coming by his favourite air, The Call of the Son of the 
 Woods, which first sounds in the distance and then 
 nearer ; this immediately arouses The Adoration of the 
 Gold, which in turn starts the flowing of the waves of 
 The Rhine, and The Ring, and at the moment when 
 Siegfried sets his foot on shore, 
 
 Scene II., The Curse of the Ring make its terrible 
 anathema resound anew. 
 
 The first courteous words are exchanged whilst the 
 orchestra is saluting Siegfried Guardian of the Swora ; the 
 hero immediately begs that the greatest care may be 
 taken of Grane, which gives occasion again for The Ride, 
 to which is immediately joined a tender memory of 
 Brunnhilde. In the conversation which follows, allusions 
 are made to Hagen's Perfidious Friendship, The Heroism of 
 the JV'dlsungs, The Sword, the forging of which Siegfried 
 narrates, and consequently The Forge, The Dragon 
 which he has killed, Bondage, The Poiuer of the Helm, 
 the knowledge of which Hagen imparts to Siegfried, 
 The Ring, etc. 
 
 GUTRUNE'S WELCOME 
 
 Gutrune
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 419 
 
 ja sttr^y *r&> 
 
 Now comes the act of treacheiy. At Hagen's instiga- 
 tion his sister graciously comes forward, and, with friendly 
 words, which are accented by the theme of Gutrune's 
 Welcome, offers him the enchanted cup from which he is to 
 imbibe forgetfulness ; before drinking the magic potion, 
 Siegfried, still faithful to his love, sends a tender memory 
 to Briinnhilde ; it is to her he drinks, as is attested by the 
 themes Hail to Love, The Heritage of the World, and the 
 termination in thirds which we have already pointed out 
 in the Duet of the third act of Siegfried. 
 
 [This characteristic type-form will make its last appearance in 
 Act III. Scene II., when Siegfried recovers the full possession of 
 his memory.] 
 
 At the very moment when he is drinking the fatal 
 philtre (in the key of G major, after a prolonged trill), 
 the sombre theme of Treachery by Magic heavilv rum- 
 bles, followed by Gutrune's Welcome; the philtre im- 
 mediately operates, the pure hero loses his memory, 
 the past becomes a blank, and he burns with an 
 ardent love for Gutrune only. A few very fugitive- 
 reminiscences of The Enthusiasm of Love, The Flames' 
 Spell, and The Bird show us the unsuccessful efforts 
 he makes to recover the memories that have taken 
 flight; henceforth he is under the spell of the traitor 
 Hagen, whose hidden will he must passively fulfil. And
 
 .20 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 therefore for the remainder of the scene the motivt of 
 Treachery (also called The Magic Imposture) and Gutrune 
 have considerable importance. 
 
 The infamous compact which is imposed on him is 
 entered into on the themes of Treachery, Loge, whose 
 flames he must again pass through, The Ride, The Sword, 
 The Curse of the Ring, and is frequently sealed by signifi- 
 cant recurrences of The Treaty. 
 
 Having exchanged the solemn oath, the two brothers- 
 in-arms unite their voices in a brief ensemble in which 
 appears the Desire to Travel in the form of a dialogue, 
 as well as a new motiv, which each sings in turn, and 
 which has received the name of The Justice of Expiation 
 (according to others, The Right of Expiation) : 
 
 THE JUSTICE OF EXPIATION 
 
 Gunther 
 
 This is a sort of penaltv of the oath : he who breaks it 
 shall pay for his treason with his life. 
 
 After several brief episodes, during which are heard 
 I ■■ Treaty, The Welcome, The Ring, The Golden Apples, 
 curiousl) associated with The Forge (the divine origin of 
 the hero and of his education by the dwarf), Love's Re- 
 gret, and The Ride combined with Logc (Grane crossing 
 the flames), the two knights start on their journey with- 
 out any further delay.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 421 
 
 Gutrune's thoughts follow them with her motiv of 
 Welcome, and, shortly afterwards Hagen's ambitious hopes 
 are clearly set forth in a series of typical motive revealing 
 a train of ideas, the signification of which we cannot 
 mistake ; The Nibelungf Work of Destruction, The Nibe- 
 lung's Cry of Triumph, Siegfried Guardian of the Sword, 
 The Ride, Love's Regret, The Gold, The Ring (the object 
 he covets), The Call of the Son of the II oods, and Bond- 
 age ; he also is following the warriors with his thoughts. 
 Borne on the wings of the symphonic music, we go on 
 before them ; in the course of the same orchestral inter- 
 lude, we are already brought into Brunuhilde's presence, 
 first by her own motiv, and then bv her Hail to the florid, 
 mingled with the menacing tones of The Curse, The 
 Work of Destruction and The Ring, which is still in her 
 possession. 
 
 Scene III. — In fact, when the curtain again rises to 
 the strains of Treachery by Magic, we find her in rapt 
 contemplation of The Ring; her state of mind is imme- 
 diately revealed to us by the memory of Siegfried Treas- 
 ure of the World, which is quickly followed by vague 
 sounds of The Ride. This is Waltraute who comes to 
 visit her exiled sister and tell her of the distress of the 
 gods, and to beseech her to restore the fatal Ring to the 
 Rhine to save them. Hence we have an eloquent suc- 
 cession of motive : The Shout of the Walkyries, with neigh- 
 ings and prancings, The Announcement of a New Life,ihe 
 Hail to the World, and Hail to Love, which testify to 
 Briinnhilde's unconquerable fidelity to Siegfried Guardian 
 of the Sword ; then follows a memory of the terrible 
 llotans Rage; The Distress of the Gods, the splendours 
 of Walhalla, The Treaty, Divine Power, so sadly shaken, 
 Fate, and The Golden Apples, which Wotan no longei 
 touches; here again Walhalla is represented in a state ol
 
 422 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 ruin ; then come Bondage, The Adoration of the Gold, the 
 cause of all the evil, a touching recall of fTotan's Song oj 
 Farewell, The Ring, The Curse, Love's Regret, The Kibe- 
 lung's Cry of Triumph, who is about to seize his prey, 
 the two cruel notes of Bondage, in short, all those motive 
 which arc adapted to the subjects on which the two 
 sisters converse ; but Briinnhilde will not yield, she will 
 keep her betrothal ring, all her love-themes crowd in 
 again anew to affirm her constancy the more strongly, 
 and Waltraute precipitately departs in a tumultuous re- 
 prise of The Rule. 
 
 Being left alone, Briinnhilde sees The Flames' 1 Spell re- 
 newed, the rock is again encircled with fire ; she feels 
 Siegfried returning, his Call of the Son of the Woods is 
 alreadv sounding; she runs to meet him! Suddenly, 
 like a knell, The Power of the Helm is heard : Siegfried, 
 wearing the Tarnhelm, has assumed Gunther's form ; 
 she cannot recognize him. 
 
 The second part of this scene is one of the most pain- 
 ful that I know in any play, and the best thing to do is 
 to take refuge in the purely musical interest in order to 
 support the odious spectacle of the pure and heroic Sieg- 
 fried having become a traitor to honour and to love 
 (although by a magic subterfuge), and the sight of the 
 violence of which he is guilty in this irresponsible con- 
 dition towards the unfortunate and ever-loving Walkyrie. 
 Happily this does not last long. 
 
 On the arrival of Siegfried-Gunther, The Power of the 
 I film asserts itself, immediately followed by Treachery by 
 M. i inexorable Fate follows, but Siegfried's voice is 
 impanied bj the mrf/v of the Gibichs ! The subterra- 
 nean rhythm of The Nibelungs* Work of Destruction is 
 heard muttering ; Briinnhilde vainly tries to resist the 
 brutal invader with The Ring; he opposes it with The
 
 OF RICHARD WAGN1.K 
 
 423 
 
 Curse of the Ring, struggles with her, overthrows her, 
 and forces her to fall exhausted in his anus to a touch- 
 ing recall of Siegfried Treasure of the World, whom she 
 so greatly loves and who no longer recognizes her, a ter- 
 rible situation, which is accented by a simultaneous repe- 
 tition of The Power of the Helm and of the human love 
 of Briinnhilde, which serves to make only more explicit 
 if possible a return of the infamous Treachery. 
 
 It is finished ; she is conquered and broken : the 
 themes which now return (The IVork of Destruction, 
 Brunnhilde, and even Fate) can tell us nothing more; 
 but we must notice, although they have not the absolute 
 character of a Leit-motiv, the energetic notes of the or- 
 chestra to which Siegfried, strong in the conviction of 
 having acted as a loyal and valiant knight, unsheathes 
 his sword, to protect his unhappy victim. 
 
 Pill animato 
 
 [We shall find them in Act II. and again in Act III. in the 
 
 affecting final scene where their signification can be thoroughly 
 comprehended only by remembering this poignant situation.] 
 
 Following this come The Sword (in this case called 
 the protector), with The Treaty, next Gutrune's 11 elcome, 
 which now alone haunts the hero's mind, The Treachery 
 by Magic and its plaything The Helm, and the love of 
 Brunnhilde, which he despises. The last moth an-
 
 424 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 nounced by the orchestra is The Power of the Helm, 
 which, in truth, has played the most terrifying role in the 
 whole act. 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Prelude and Scene I. — The persistent rhythm of 
 The IVork of Destruction, The Nibe lungs' Cry of Triumph, 
 and lastly The Ring, alone form the framework of this 
 Prelude, which is directly connected with Scene I. 
 
 This scene passes in profound darkness, only illumi- 
 nated by the wan light of the heavily-veiled moon, be- 
 tween the Nibelung Alberich, who has risen from the 
 depths of the Rhine, and his son Hagen, who is in a 
 trance-like sleep ; the motive of hatred and ambition are 
 necessarily the ruling ones ; first come those mentioned 
 in the Prelude, which form the ground-work, and then 
 The Power of the Ring, Love's Regret, and a new ter- 
 ribly expressive theme, Murder, inciting to murder 
 
 MURDER 
 
 [which will be used again in Scenes IV. and V. of this actj ; 
 
 and, as if more clearlv to indicate him against whom 
 this menace is directed, here come The Sword with
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 425 
 
 which Siegfried killed Fafner, The Ring which is in his 
 Power, and The Call of the Son of the Woods, his charac- 
 teristic flourish. 
 
 Farther on, in the same scene, there are allusions to 
 Briinnhilde, who is represented by the Announcement of a 
 Nexv Life, and to The Rhine-Daughters, as well as the 
 ruined // 'alhalla, the destruction of which is the ultimate 
 aim ; but these motive pass rapidly, leaving almost a 
 clear field for others of sombre tints which depict the 
 vindictive and saturnine characters of the father and son, 
 Murder, The Curse of the Ring, and Bondage. 
 
 Scene II. — The sunrise is here represented by a 
 supple figure treated in canon on a rather long pedal of 
 the tonic (B Hat), which is somewhat remotely related 
 to The Rhine motiv ; it is sunrise on the banks of the 
 Rhine. 
 
 Siegfried's arrival is announced by The Power of the 
 Helm, which he still wears, and the lively Call of the Son 
 of the (Foods. He tells Hagen, and Gutrune, who 
 afterwards arrives, of the success of his voyage, his pas- 
 sage through the flames, whence arise the scintillating 
 theme of Loge, Gutrune's Welcome, and Treacher^ by 
 Magic, besides the three great orchestral notes in octaves 
 without any accompanying harmony, which we have 
 already mentioned (p. 423), followed by The Sword ; a 
 combination which indicates the I03 a! and chaste man- 
 ner in which his mission has been accomplished. 
 
 Scene III. — Hagen's cry calling together Gunther's 
 vassals reproduces the notes of Bondage ; whilst the figure 
 in the bass, which proceeds with great bounds of a 
 ponderously jovial character, seems to characterize 
 Hagen's gaiety. At the second bar we find a new 
 theme, Call to the Marriage, which greatly resembles 
 Gutrune's Welcome, ot which it is merely a transformation :
 
 426 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 CALL TO THE MARRIAGE 
 
 Jf 
 
 zm 
 
 m n j 1 
 
 The vassals immediately come in, which gives occa- 
 sion for a highly developed chorus of men during which 
 the sounding of the call is frequently heard, alternating 
 with Hagen's voice giving orders for the sacrifices to the 
 gods. 
 
 Scene IV. — This chorus lasts till the beginning of 
 Scene IV., when Gunther enters leading Briinnhilde. 
 
 The entrance of the latter is accented by several sad 
 recalls of The Ride, followed by The Call to the Mar- 
 riage ; when she recognizes Siegfried and during the 
 moment of stupor which follows it, there is in the 
 orchestra an almost uninterrupted and eloquent succes- 
 sion of The Call of the Son of the Woods, Revenge, Fate, 
 The Pover of the Helm, Treachery by Magic, The Call to the 
 Marriage, Briinnhilde, The Ring, The Curse of the Ring, 
 The Work of Destruction, The Gold, The Dragon, The 
 Adoration of the Gold, Fafner, Siegfried Guardian of the 
 Sword, and then Bondage, which force us to pass through 
 all the rapid phases of thought in the mind of the 
 unhappy fallen Walkyrie. At the moment when she 
 invokes the gods, it is JValhalla that sounds, followed by 
 Revenge and Destruction. 
 
 The rest of the scene follows its course with the 
 aid of the above motive ; we find in addition, but less 
 frequently, Love's Regret, Heroic Love, The Justice of
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 42^ 
 
 Expiation, and the three sword-strokes which symbolize 
 the loyalty with which Siegfried is conscious of having 
 accomplished his undertaking ; the oath taken bv Sieg- 
 fried, and repeated by Briinnhilde in her turn, towards 
 the middle of the scene covers the underlying motiv of 
 Murder, to which Siegfried condemns himself without 
 knowing it. Then we again meet with Bondage, Loge^ 
 The Poiver of the Helm, The Ring, and The Call to the 
 Marriage, at which Briinnhilde falls into profound medi- 
 tation while the page is being played by the orchestra 
 which separates this scene from the succeeding one, 
 after Siegfried's departure with Gutrune. 
 
 Scene V. — Being left alone with Gunthcr and 
 Hagen, her sad thoughts have full rein, the motiv of The 
 IVork of Destruction takes possession of her, The Justice 
 of Expiation and Bondage overwhelm her, and she seems 
 to have a presentiment of the Murder ; Fate, however, 
 one of whose agents she has been, particularly haunts 
 her, The Heritage of the World and Heroic Love return 
 with sharp memories ; two of these motive in particular, 
 Murder and Bondage, simultaneously combine, as though 
 to foretell the fatal catastrophe ; tender memories again 
 bring back Siegfried Guardian of the Szuord, and the 
 Enthusiasm of Love, with its successions of thirds and 
 sixths ; but the sombre themes always predominate. It 
 is to the persistent rhythm of The Nibelungs' Work of 
 Destruction that Briinnhilde reveals to Hagen that Sieg- 
 fried is vulnerable in the back, and that the assassin's 
 blade may thus reach him, which decides his fate. 
 Love's Regret appears several times with Revenge and 
 Bondage; the idea of Murder increases in intensity. 
 
 Hagen, supported by the motive of Revenge and 
 Destruction, proposes the death of Siegfried. 
 
 Gunther, moved for a moment at the thought of
 
 4 i8 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 the iirief which it will cause his sister, hesitates, whence 
 recur Gutrune's II elcome and Freta. " He will have 
 been killed by a boar," Hagen suggests ; and Gunther 
 wcakl\ yields. 
 
 As for Briinnhilde, assisted by the motiv of Murder, 
 and regarding Siegfried as a recreant who has betrayed 
 her, she is the first to desire his death. 
 
 The three characters on the stage are moved by this 
 single thought, here, therefore, occurs a Trio, in which 
 Siegfried's death is decided. 
 
 The double nuptial train is formed to the strains of 
 The Call to the Marriage and Gutrune's Welcome; but 
 at the moment the curtain falls, the idea of Revenge, 
 and still more that of Bondage, dominate the festal 
 sounds. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 Prelude and Scene I. — After the violent emo- 
 tions of the two preceding acts, we feel an inexpres- 
 sible craving for freshness and tranquillity. 
 
 The delightful scene of Siegfried and the Rhine- 
 Daughters comes most happily as a refreshing diversion 
 to relax our over-excited nerves, and so render them 
 more sensitive to the tragic events which are to ter- 
 minate the drama. 
 
 From the first notes of the Prelude we again hear, 
 joyous and full of life, The Call of the Son of the Woods, 
 to which in the distance the horns of Gunther and 
 Hagen reply (the motiv of Gunther's hunting is none 
 other than The Call to the Marriage, which itself 
 is derived, as will be remembered, from Gutrune's 
 I! home). The groaning of Bondage, twice recalled, is 
 the only sombre note in this scene, which is otherwise 
 BO hill of youth and charm.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 429 
 
 First, we meet with The Rhine, which (with the ex- 
 ception of an almost imperceptible allusion in Siegfried ), 
 we have not heard since the Rheingold Day; The Adora- 
 tion of the Gold escorts it with The Gold, whereupon the 
 hunting-calls are renewed. Next the orchestra pre- 
 sents to us the graceful melody which is about to 
 become a new Trio of the seductive Undines, who this 
 time are sporting on the surface of the water, accom- 
 panied by the incessant murmur of the waves of The 
 Rhine, with memories of the lost Gold. 
 
 The Trio becomes a Quartet on the arrival of Sieg- 
 fried, who has wandered from the hunt in pursuit 
 of a bear. The nymphs allure and captivate him with 
 their grace and joyous singing ; they ask him to give 
 them his Ring (Adoration of the Gold and The Ring), 
 which he gained by killing the savage Dragon ; he 
 refuses, and they taunt him with his avarice and annoy 
 him with their mocking laughter; then, just as he i> 
 going to yield, they become serious again and tell him 
 of the curse attached to The Ring (this phrase ends 
 with Love's Regret) ; they announce his death unless he 
 restores to them the cursed Ring (Poxver of the Ring, 
 Curse of the Ring, Bondage, Adoration of the Gold, etc.). 
 He would have vielded to their charms, but he will not 
 vield before a threat ; from the moment when the Ring 
 becomes a danger to its possessor (The Treaty, The 
 Ring, Fafnei ), he will keep it (The Nibelung's Cry of 
 Triumph.) I he Nixies are greatlv agitated as they see 
 their Gold once more escaping them ; they try to per- 
 suade the daring mortal of his madness, but, seeing that 
 they must renounce the hope of regaining The Ring, 
 they quietly resume Jieir sporting and disappear in the 
 brilliant ensemble with which the act opens. 
 
 Being left alone, Siegfried hears the hunting-calls of
 
 +3 o THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 Gunther and Hagen approaching, accompanied by Tht 
 Curse of the Ring and Bondage, and answers them with 
 his Call of the Son of the Woods. 
 
 Scene II. — While Gunther and Hagen are approach- 
 ing, followed by men carrying the spoils of the chase 
 which they heap at the foot of a tree, the orchestra 
 makes use of the motive of hunting, occasionally giving 
 forth figures borrowed from the Trio of the Rhine- 
 Daughters, who still occupy Siegfried's mind, and to 
 these as soon as the dialogue begins are added Hagen's 
 Perfidious Friendship, Bondage, Revenge, and some notes 
 of The Bird; a little farther on come Heroic Love and 
 The Justice of Expiation, in combination with Loge (the 
 snare), Treachery by Magic, which is following its 
 course, and then, when Siegfried at Hagen's request is 
 about to tell of his infancy and youth, The Forge, and 
 again The Bird. 
 
 The story which follows and which brings us directly 
 to the scene of assassination, is so wonderfully annotated 
 by the orchestra that we might follow its windings with- 
 out the help of words. 
 
 First comes The Forge where he was reared in a 
 state of Bondage, in the hope that one day he should 
 kill The Dragon; there is Mime's whining complaint; 
 there is The Casting of the Sword and the victory over 
 The Dragon; next reappear The Murmurs of the Forest, 
 in which Siegfried now sings the part of The Bird; 
 Mime's death occasions a last return of The Forge. 
 At this moment, Hagen, pursuing his evil machinations, 
 prepares a new philtre which will restore his memory, 
 and presents it to him under the deceitful strains of 
 Perfidious Friendship ; Siegfried empties the cup at one 
 draught, while there mysteriously glides into the orches- 
 tra the theme of Treachery by Magic, solemnly preceded
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 431 
 
 by The Power of the Helm, and immediately followed 
 by Heroic Love and the human love of Briinnhilde. 
 Memory has returned, he resumes his story; with it 
 return The Murmurs of the Forest, The Bird, The Flames'' 
 Spell, Fre'ia (beauty), Briinnhilde'' s Sleep, The Heritage of 
 the IVorld, Hail to the World , and the termination in 
 thirds of the Love-duet, the memory of his first ecstasies. 
 It is then that the traitor Hagen, pointing out to Sieg- 
 fried Wotan's two ravens which are flying past croak- 
 ing, induces him to turn his back and plunges his spear 
 between the shoulders of the hero. The Curse of the 
 Ring thunders out, and, then, like a solemn knell, Sieg- 
 fried Guardian of the Siuord, which is followed at a short 
 interval by Fate and The "Justice of the Expiation, amid 
 general stupefaction. Siegfried is wounded unto death, 
 but he is not dead. In his agony and in a state of 
 ecstasy, he continues his story, which the fatal blow has 
 only interrupted. Hail to the IVorld recurs in its com- 
 plete development ; Fate, The Guardian of the Sword, 
 Hail to Love, the Enthusiasm of Love follow, and then, 
 with a last recall of Fate, he falls dead. 
 
 Here commences (in the key of C minor), the 
 admirable symphonic page which it is the custom to 
 call the Siegfried Funeral March, but which we must 
 regard as the most touching and most eloquent of 
 funeral orations rather than as a march : a funeral 
 oration which is without words, and for that very 
 reason so much the more impressive and solemn, for 
 we have arrived at that degree of tension where, words 
 having become powerless, music alone can minister to 
 an emotion which is almost superhuman. 
 
 Here the whole life of the hero is retraced. All the 
 heroic motive that we know pass before us, not in their 
 accustomed dress, but gloomily veiled in mourning,
 
 43 2 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 broken with sobs, inspiring terror, and forming in the 
 atmosphere surrounding the dead hero an invisible and 
 impalpable train, the mystic train of living thoughts. 
 First, grave and solemn, comes The Heroism of the 
 11 alsungs, which we remember having heard the first 
 time when Siegmund, at the opening of Die Walkure, 
 sadly tells of his misfortunes ; next comes Compassion, 
 representing the unhappy Sieglinde, and Love, the Love 
 of Siegmund and Sieglinde which was to give birth to 
 Siegfried : does it not seem that the tender souls of his 
 father and mother, whom he loved so dearly without 
 having known them, are hovering above him and have 
 come to be chief mourners ? Then, we have The Race 
 of the IV'dlsungs in its entirety, which, in a superb move- 
 ment of the basses, joins the funeral cortege in the same 
 way as the weapons of the deceased are laid upon the 
 coffin : The Sword, the proud sword, is there, still glit- 
 tering and flaming, having become heraldic in the lumi- 
 nous glow of C major, which only appears for this 
 single moment ; finally comes the one motiv above all 
 others of the hero, Siegfried Guardian of the Sword, twice 
 repeated in an ascending progression, the second time 
 with its frank and loval ending, and followed by The Son 
 of the Woods in its heroic form, again singularly extended, 
 which occasions a sacred memory of Briinnhilde, his only 
 love. Could anything more affecting be imagined ? At 
 :he last notes of the Funeral March, which only ends with 
 Scene III., are heard two gloomy chords which have 
 /n them as much of Bondage as of The Ni belting's Cry of 
 Triumph, just as in the following bars another figure, 
 which The Curse of the Ring underlies, may be regarded 
 at will cither as a bitter memory of Gutrune's Welcome, 
 or of The Call to Marriage, two motive which equally 
 relate to the idea of treachery.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 4J3 
 
 Many a time the listener, deceived like Gutrune, 
 thinks he hears the accustomed Call of the Son of the 
 Woods ; but the flourish is not completed ; it is always 
 broken and seems to stagger; we hear Grane wildly 
 neighing with several notes of The Ride; Gutrune 
 anxiously tries to find Brunnhilde ; she is possessed bv 
 the idea of Fate, with which is joined The Nibelungs Cry 
 of Triumph. Suddenly reappears the motiv of Revenge, 
 accompanying Hagen's hoarse cry, which is borrowed 
 from Bondage. Prom here the orchestra moves onwards 
 to Gunther's death with a small number of motive : The 
 Call of the Son of the IVoods, which is changed to the minor, 
 and Lovers Regret ; on the arrival of the body, Siegfried 
 Guardian of the Sivord, which is only given by its first 
 notes, Murder, The ^Justice of Expiation, The Ring, The 
 Curse, and Fate. It is on the last motiv that Gunther 
 receives his death-blow. 
 
 Hagen immediately tries to get possession of the 
 Ring, whereupon the dead Siegfried's arm is raised in a 
 menacing manner, clenching the Ring in his closed 
 fingers with a terrifying clash of The Sword, which pro- 
 tects the hero even in death. 
 
 Then, to an extended figure formed of The Fall of the 
 Gods, The Noms, and The Rhine, and tragically ending 
 with Fate, Brunnhilde appears. At the close of her 
 first phrase, the development of Fate shows us the song 
 of Death. She dismisses Gutrune, reminding her of 
 her perfidious Welcome, and, with the theme of The 
 Heritage of the World, proclaims herself the sole true 
 spouse of the dead hero ; to a last recall of Treachery by 
 Magic, Gutrune curses Hagen whom she has obeyed, 
 and retires in shame and desolation. 
 
 From now on, the character of Brunnhilde will alone 
 fill this never-to-be-forgotten scene of terrible majesty
 
 434 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 and splendour, so splendid ana emotionally stirring that 
 no words can describe it. 
 
 While Briinnhilde orders a pyre to be raised and her 
 horse to be fetched, the ruling motive are : Divine Power, 
 The Flames' Spell, Siegfried Guardian of the Sword, and 
 The Ride ; next tender memories return, with Hail to 
 Love, and a repetition of The Sivord (which we now hear 
 for the last time) ; these touching notes are brusquely 
 broken into by the three significant orchestral strokes 
 which we found for the first time in the terrible Duet of 
 Act I. Scene III. ; in the hero's actions while under the 
 power of a spell they signified what chivalrous loyalty 
 meant to him ; here to Briinnhilde they stand for cold 
 and incomprehensible treachery. After a recall of Fate 
 she addresses herself to the gods ; then we have JValhalla 
 and the Announcement of a New Life, which reappears 
 more expressive than ever; and to Bondage, The Curse 
 of the Ring, and the Distress of the Gods, succeeds like a 
 farewell, sad and yet radiant, a last Hail to JValhalla. 
 
 Divine Power reappears for an instant, followed by 
 The Fall of the Gods and The Rhine, three closely-related 
 motive ; she is talking to the Rhine-Daughters now, and 
 of The Gold which she is going to restore to them under 
 the form of The Ring which the flames of the pyre will 
 at last purify from The Curse weighing upon it. 
 
 To the brutally energetic accents of The Treaty, 
 
 succeed the leaping figures of The Flames' Spell, Loge, 
 
 Fall of the Gods, and The Norns. Briinnhilde has 
 
 seized a torch, and, after having fired the pyre, she has 
 
 cast a burning brand against Walhalla. 
 
 The Ride reappears, wild and furious ; she is now 
 speaking to her faithful Grane, he shall carry her alive 
 into the pyre, and shall die there heroically with her. 
 'I hen appears in its wondrous splendour the magnificent ,
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 435 
 
 motiv of Redemption by Love, which the great composer, 
 after having given us only a glimpse of it in the third 
 act of Die JValkure (Scene L, during Sieglinde's role), 
 has kept in reserve for use here as the radiating aureole 
 of the pure and intrepid heroine. This motiv will keep 
 ceaselessly rising and increasing, lovingly entwining with 
 that of Siegfried Guardian of the Sword, as Briinnhilde's 
 exaltation, already excited by the incessant crackling of 
 The Flames, attains a paroxysm of intensity ; suddenly, 
 with a thrilling utterance of her old IValkyrie Shout, she 
 urges her noble horse into a gallop, and both plunge into 
 the flaming pvre ! 
 
 The fire leans up, the flames hiss, the motive of Loge 
 and The Flames rage, Eternal Sleep greatly expands, The 
 Rhine rises and invades the stage; The Curse of the Ring 
 is heard again once more, though broken and incomplete ; 
 the tenacious Hagen dashes into the waves to seize the 
 Ring, which the joyous Rhine-Daughters at last have 
 regained. 
 
 The drama is ended, but there still remains to be 
 heard a prodigious epilogue which is purely instrumental, 
 during which our emotion, which seems already at its 
 height, will nevertheless be increased, and this by the 
 sole power of the music and the harmonic combinations 
 of the Lett-motive. 
 
 While The Rhine, gradually becoming calm, carries 
 awav with it the jubilant Rhine-Daughters sporting with 
 their golden Ring, while JValhalla, lost forever, finally 
 doomed, but still solemn and splendid, is illumined with 
 the first flames which will devour and annihilate it, 
 there comes floating above everything, like the pene- 
 trating and sweet perfume exhaled by Briinnhilde's pure 
 soul, or the blossoming of her infinite tenderness, the 
 radiant song of Redemption by Love, which every moment
 
 436 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 becomes more and more ethereal. All these motive run 
 side by side as in a prophetic and luminous dream, with- 
 out any confusion, each one preserving immutably its 
 own character, whether majestic, happy, or ecstatic, and 
 the result is a complex, indefinable, and profoundly 
 affecting impression, which, after all these scenes of a 
 mythological nature, plunges the deeply moved soul into 
 a state of almost divine contemplation and Christian 
 idealit\ . 
 
 In the four following pages I give a kind of sketch 
 showing the curious way in which this prodigious com- 
 bination has been effected, indicating, as nearly as pos- 
 sible, the marvellous orchestration. 
 
 What first attracts attention is the majestic theme of 
 Walhalla, which is given to the family of Tubas and to 
 the Bass Trumpet (the Wagnerian brass), solemnly 
 swelling out in the fj bar; when this mot'w ceases for a 
 moment, the Tubas are replaced by the Trombones, 
 without being confounded with them. — In the meantime 
 on the Violoncellos, the Violas and Harps, appears the 
 undulatorv movement of the waves of The Rhine, with 
 its usual rhythm in &. — The Oboes and Clarinets, to 
 which the English Horn and the third Flute are afterwards 
 added, recall the supple movements of the swimming 
 Rhine-Daughters. It is onlv at the last that there ap- 
 pears on the first and second Violins, reinforced by two 
 Flutes, the theme, glowing in splendour like a marvellous 
 apotheosis, The Redemption by Love, in a very extended 
 bar of - of such grandeur and such sublimity in this 
 supreme transformation, that we feel ourselves trans- 
 ported into the realms of the unknown. 
 
 We next find Divine Power which sinks down abruptly 
 into the bass; we are in the presence of the conflagration 
 and fall of the Palace of the gods, for the last time the
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 437
 
 43 8 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 439
 
 440 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 441 
 
 valiant notes of The Guardian of the Sword sound, while 
 still higher in the celestial regions hovers, like a last and 
 supreme benediction, the consolatory phrase which is so 
 sweet and so nobly serene, in which the whole drama is 
 summed up : The Redemption by Love. 
 
 It is of a most marvellous completeness, and it all 
 moves with such ease that the hearer does not for an 
 instant receive the impression of the actual complication 
 of what he hears. All the motive stand out from one 
 another clearly, and the dissonances which are sometimes 
 formed among them disappear, thanks to the clearly 
 defined diversity of the timbre. There is no confusion, 
 no harshness; we float blissfully in an ocean of luminous 
 waves of harmony, and we would like to be able indefi- 
 nitely to prolong this delicious sensation, and, however 
 slowly the curtain may fall, we are torn from this lovely 
 dream to return to the reality of life all too soon. 
 
 And the lesson which we 1 am from it is this : " It 
 has passed like a breath, this race of the gods ; the treas- 
 ure of my sacred knowledge I leave to the world : it is 
 no longer goods, gold, or sacred pomp, houses, courts, 
 lordly magnificence, nor the deceitful ties of dark treaties, 
 nor the harsh law of hypocritical manners, but only one 
 single thing which in good as in evil days makes us 
 happy: Love!" (R.Wagner.) 
 
 PARSIFAL 
 
 Prelude. — By the very Prelude we are initiated Into 
 all the great symbolic motive of the Holv Grail. 
 
 The first sound which issues from the depths of the 
 " mystic abyss," a simple, low A-flat on the G string of 
 the thirty-two violins, in a slow svneopated movement, 
 this sound, bewildering inasmuch as it seems to rise from
 
 442 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 PARSIFAL 
 
 NAMES 
 
 of the principal Leit-motive in 
 
 PARSIFAL 
 
 in the order of their 
 
 first appearance. 
 
 scenes : 1 
 
 -z 
 
 ACT 
 I. 
 
 T3 
 
 - 
 
 ACT 
 II. 
 
 •a 
 
 ACT 
 III. 
 
 i 
 
 2 
 
 '■ 
 
 I 2 
 
 3 
 
 i 
 
 2 
 
 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 
 • 
 • 
 t 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 
 • 
 • 
 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 • 
 
 
 
 • • 
 
 • • 
 
 • • 
 ■ • 
 
 • • 
 
 • • 
 
 • • 
 
 • • 
 » 
 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 O 
 
 e 
 
 • 
 • 
 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 
 • 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 
 • 
 • 
 • 
 
 e 
 • 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 
 
 • • 
 
 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 • 
 
 • • 
 
 • • 
 
 • • 
 
 • ■ 
 
 • • 
 
 • • 
 
 • • 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Parsifal 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 • • 
 
 • • 
 » • 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 1 In Parsifal the division o. scenes is entirely arbitrary, but agrees with the analysis 
 which follows.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 443 
 
 all parts of the hall at the same time, is the initial note 
 of the mysterious mot'iv of the Eucharist : a moth of ex- 
 
 THE EUCHARIST 
 
 piu p 
 
 treme breadth in its calm and majestic simplicity; at first 
 presented bare, without any kind of accompaniment, it is 
 immediately repeated, harmonized with arpeggio envelop- 
 ments, to which the harp lends its priestly character. 
 
 After a long silence, the same moth returns, this time 
 in the minor, which gives it an extraordinary impression 
 of suffering, which becomes still more painful when it is 
 emphasized by being harmonized. 
 
 Another long rest ! These solemn silences are won- 
 derfully eloquent and expressive; we feel that there is 
 food for much meditation on the single theme which has 
 just been presented, and so we meditate. 
 
 More detailed analyses will show how this first moth 
 may be subdivided into several fragments, each one of 
 which has a special mystical signification. 
 
 The second theme to appear is The Grail, which musi- 
 
 THE GRAIL
 
 44-4 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 callv represents the sacred vessel, and, by extension, the 
 temple in which it is piously preserved. 
 
 Thirdly, still without leaving the key of A-flat, we 
 have the austere motiv of Faith, which is developed with 
 
 
 n |, A 
 
 FAITH 
 A A A A A 
 
 A 
 
 / 
 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 / 
 
 
 \^* 
 
 great length and pomp, momentarily intersected by a 
 return of The Grail, and then expanding magnificently. 
 
 A mysterious roll of the drums, succeeded by a pro- 
 longed tremolo of the strings, announces and accompanies 
 the reappearance of The Eucharist with new and curious 
 harmonies, from which stands forth a motiv formed of 
 four of its notes, typifying The Lance, which will con- 
 
 THE LANCE 
 
 stantly reappear in all portions of the work, except in 
 the Prelude of the second act and in the scene of the 
 Flower-Maidens. Although very short, it is easily recog- 
 nized, being frequently orchestrated in a striking and 
 incisive manner which at once attracts attention. 
 
 [These four m >ttve, The Eucharist, The Grail, Faith, and 
 The Lane - with a fifth which will soon appear ( The 
 
 Promise), constitute the religious and to some extent liturgical
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 445 
 
 element which predominates in the first and third acts. Of 
 these important motive, Faith is the only one which undergoes 
 harmonic and rhythmic transformations which might prevent our 
 recognizing it at first sight, of which it is well tube warned; 
 this is why I give it below under the various aspects it assumes 
 from the beginning of the first act (in bars 34, 134, 404, and 
 486), always in the role of Gurncmanz, the knight of robust 
 faith, whose favourite theme it naturally is.] 
 
 Gurnemanz 
 
 ['If 
 
 j hhHrffl r
 
 446 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 Gurnemanz 
 
 After a short development of The Lance, the motiv of 
 The Eucharist forms a connecting link between the 
 Prelude and the first act. 
 
 Act I. 
 
 As Parsifal is not divided into scenes, for the sake 
 of facilitating the analysis we must establish arbitrary 
 demarcations between the various parts of the con- 
 tinuous acts. 
 
 Let us divide the first act into three parts: I, from 
 the beginning to Parsifal's arrival ; '2, from Parsifal's 
 arrival to the change of scene ; 3, the scene in the 
 temple. 
 
 The motive of The Eucharist, The Grail, Faith, and 
 again The Eucharist give the signal for waking and the 
 morning prayer. The dialogue begins between Gurne- 
 manz and two of his youthful companions, two Esquires 
 of the Grail ; here the orchestra presents Faith under 
 the first transformation given above (in B major), and, 
 four bars farther on, a grievous bass figure tells us of the 
 physical Suffering of the King, Amfortas, who comes 
 down, borne on a litter, to take the bath which alone can 
 afford him momentary relief:
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 447 
 
 Gurnemanz 
 
 SUFFERING 
 
 At the 65th bar of the act, the orchestra expressively, 
 but slightly as yet, indicates the motlv of The Promise, 
 which will be more fully given two pages later. (See 
 p. 449). 
 
 A rustling of leaves which gives us the sensation of a 
 wild ride is heard, followed by the harsh and excited 
 rhythm of The Gallop, which, after having continued for 
 
 THE GALLOP 
 
 several bars, growing louder and nearer, ends in a sort 
 of convulsive laughter, which almost always accompanies 
 the appearance of the strange character of Kundry. 
 
 KUNDRY
 
 448 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 The painful moth of the King's corporeal Suffering 
 and the violent motive of The Gallop and Kundry's savage 
 laughter, coming after the grave and solemn harmonies 
 of the Prelude, produce an effect of striking contrast. 
 
 One of less importance, accompanying Kundry's few 
 rude and broken words, is associated with the idea of 
 The Balm which she has been to fetch from the wilds 
 of Arabia without any orders from her superior. 
 
 THE BALM 
 
 Kundry 
 
 ^^ 
 
 §= 
 
 f 
 
 n 
 
 Amfortas's train is approaching ; we recognize in the 
 orchestra Suffering, Faith, in a second transformation 
 (p. 444 in D flat), and a fragme.it of The Eucharist. 
 Suffering returns, but it seems lessened by the coming 
 of the charming moth of The Breeze, the invigorating 
 
 THE BREEZE 
 
 t* jm . f.. A 1 ,1. J ,
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 449 
 
 breeze, which for a moment alleviates the pain of the 
 unfortunate Amfortas, and ends with the last notes of 
 The Eucharist. 
 
 [The motiv of The Breeze, will be found slightly indicated 
 in the third act, shortly after Parsifal's arrival at Gurnemanz's 
 hut, but its form is changed into E major and | . J 
 
 Parsifal 
 
 Some notes of the Kind's recital introduce us to the 
 prophetic theme of The Promise^ on the faith of which 
 
 THE PROMISE 
 
 Amfortas
 
 450 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 he awaits a saviour, who can be none but a " Guileless 
 Fool, whose own heart alone instructs him ! " 
 
 The flask which Gurnemanz gives him recalls the 
 moth of The Balm, with that of The Gallop and Kun- 
 dry's sinister laughter; while the latter, in her wild way, 
 rejects the King's thanks, mysterious and tortuous 
 figures bristling with chromatic notes reveal to us some- 
 what of her strange nature ; they end with a still more 
 violent recurrence of the nervous laugh. The train 
 having resumed its march, to the groanings of the cruel 
 Suffering, which however is tempered by The Breeze, 
 the conversation again becomes affectionate and confi- 
 dential between the knight Gurnemanz and the young 
 esquires who are eager for instruction. What can be 
 the subject of conversation ? The Holy Grail, the 
 subject of every thought of the pious Knights ; Kundry's 
 strange and enigmatical ways and her still recent Gallop; 
 The Eucharist, which forms the symbolic base of the 
 worship of the Grail ; The Promise of a new Redeemer, 
 who will come to deliver the King from his torture; 
 The Magic, which with its evil spells and machinations 
 opposes the purity of the holy religion of the Grail, The 
 Lance and Faith, which are summed up in one word, 
 The Eucharist. 
 
 MAGIC 
 
 Gurnemanz 
 
 fti- J> 1 JU- ft,
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 45J 
 
 [The theme of Magic, as well as Klingsor, which follows, 
 will appear in their full development in the second act ; they 
 only figure here as episodes, for the purpose of annotating the 
 story.] 
 
 A brief return of Suffering, lightened by The Breeze, 
 occurs at the moment when two of the Esquires, return- 
 ing from the lake, as they pass by give news of the 
 King; then the good Gurnemanz continues to instruct 
 his pupils, this time with fresh explanations of Faith, 
 The Grail, The Eucharist, and The Lance (all these 
 motive coming in the order named), he tells them who 
 Klingsor is. 
 
 KLINGSOR 
 
 Gurnemanz 
 
 He speaks of his infamy, the seductions with which 
 he tries to corrupt the holy Knights, the use he makes 
 of Magic (here in the orchestra rapidly pass the motive
 
 452 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 of Kundry, and the Flower-Maidens, Klingsor's tools), 
 and, finally, how the wretched Amfortas, in his attempt 
 to fight him, became his victim, losing at once his 
 chastity and the sacred Lance, in addition to receiving the 
 terrible wound " which nothing can close," except, as 
 has been prophetically revealed, by the intervention of 
 the " pure and simple," the subject of The Promise. 
 Marvelling and saddened at the story, the Esquires are 
 repeating in chorus the motiv of The Promise, when a 
 startling flourish, this time restricted to its first three 
 notes, but which will later be recognized as the personal 
 motiv of Parsifal, followed by shouts and cries of terror, 
 puts an end to the conversation. 
 
 Parsifal 
 
 PARSIFAL 
 
 
 MtM 
 
 i 
 
 fefe 
 
 9—fr 
 
 s 
 
 m 
 
 f 
 
 m 
 
 & 
 
 m 
 
 [When Parsifal reappears in his black armour, at the begin- 
 ning of Act III., this motiv is in B-flat minor ; and when, at 
 
 the last, having in his turn become Priest-King and Master of 
 the Grail, he performs the miracle of healing the King's wound, 
 It a nines this particularly triumphal form :]
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 453 
 
 Here begins the second part of the act. Parsifal, 
 ignorant of the law of The Grail, which requires that 
 animal life shall be held sacred within its domains, has 
 just killed a swan ; the profanation is the cause of all 
 the outcry. The dying swan is brought to the good 
 Gurnemanz, who questions and severely reprimands the 
 unconscious offender. At the first notes of his reply, his 
 character is revealed to us in all its simplicity. 
 
 To the themes of The Eucharist (scarcely indicated), 
 Faith, which always accompanies Gurnemanz's words, 
 and the healing Breeze, there is here added a new theme, 
 consisting of two chords only, which in Wagner's mind 
 is clearly associated with the idea of The Swan, since he 
 has already made use of it in Lohengrin : 
 
 THE SWAN 
 
 |JV»»-J 
 
 
 —a m- 
 
 ■\ -p. 
 
 
 
 
 / "S^k 
 
 
 
 
 Sb= 
 
 y )*{*i ff-~ ~ u ~ ~ - 
 
 
 &— = 
 
 Affected by the paternal reproaches of the good Knight, 
 Parsifal breaks his bow and casts away his arrows. 
 Gurnemanz, continuing his inquiries, can get nothing 
 out of him, unless, indeed, he remembers his mother, 
 which is doubtless intended by the sad and gentle tnotiv 
 of Herzeleide :
 
 454 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 HERZELEIDE 
 
 Parsifal 
 
 ii-t.A.i <^M J> 
 
 ^. U t,rj 
 
 (The Grieving Heart, or the Unhappy Woman, accord- 
 ing to the commentators.) The moth of The Swan re- 
 appears in between, in the few touching and solemn bars 
 which it is customary to call " The Funeral March of 
 the Swan." 
 
 When Kundry, a little later, helping him to gather 
 together his recollections, informs him of his mother's 
 death, we find The Gallop, several gleams of Parsifal, 
 and then Herzeleide ; when he Hies at the throat of the 
 wild woman, there is a strong but dissonant crash of the 
 moth of Parsifal, succeeded by a sad memory of Herze- 
 leide ; when Parsifal faints and Kundry runs to fetch him 
 some water, The Gallop returns, followed by the fata/
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 45 5 
 
 laughter , when she offers him this water, this restora- 
 tive, she is inspired by The Grail and the idea of The 
 Balm intervenes ; it is the ministering Kundry, but she 
 is soon surrounded by the Satanic motive, Magic and its 
 practices and Klingsor who is already calling her : she 
 shudders, tries to stand erect, falls down in convulsions, 
 and sinks into a heavy sleep. 
 
 Then the moving scenery gives us the impression that 
 we are accompanying Gurnemanz and Parsifal in the 
 ascent of Montsalvat ; in these almost exclusively sym- 
 phonic pages the principal moth of which announces 
 the chiming of Bells of the Grail, we necessarily find all 
 the themes of a religious character, and, in addition, the 
 mournful and characteristic figure of The Cry to the 
 Saviour : 
 
 THE CRY TO THE SAVIOUR 
 
 W'i> or | j> p 
 
 i pJr-fzr: 
 
 x H. 
 
 i 
 
 Towards the end of this interlude, the moth of The Eu- 
 charist, at which we are about to be present, assumes a 
 predominating importance, till the moment when The
 
 456 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 Bells (see p. 472 ), ringing out in full peal, introduce us 
 into the sanctuary itself. Throughout this third part of 
 the act, Parsifal will remain motionless, as though petri- 
 fied with astonishment, with his back to the audience, 
 silently contemplating the impressive and touching scene 
 of the Office of the Holy Grail. 
 
 To a marked rhythm which keeps time to the ringing 
 of The Bells, the Knights, answering the call of The 
 Grail, come in and solemnly range themselves around 
 the tables ; to the same rhythm, but doubling the pace, 
 young Esquires, more alert, enter in their turn and take 
 their place. Voices of Youths, forming a three-part 
 chorus, placed half-way up the dome, give forth The Cry 
 to the Saviour, which is accompanied in the orchestra by 
 some notes of The Lance, followed by the harmony of 
 The Grail. Another four-part chorus of Children sta- 
 tioned at the top of the dome, in turn sings the theme of 
 Faith, treated as a choral. (This curious superposition of 
 three choruses at different heights, the men on the floor 
 of the temple, the youths half-way up, and the children 
 at the top, which produces a most striking effect, had 
 been tried by Wagner long before, in 1843, in the 
 Church of Our Lady at Dresden, in his Das Liebesmahl 
 der Apostel.} 
 
 Titurel's voice, issuing from the depths of a kind 
 of crypt, commands his son to perform the holy sacri- 
 fice ; Amfortas, to the motiv of The Cry to the Saviour, 
 begs to be relieved of the task ; but Titurel, supported 
 by two sacred recalls of The Grail, orders the sacred 
 vessel to be uncovered. Then begin the terrible agonies 
 of the unhappv fallen Priest-King, tortures far more 
 moral than physical, which bring back sharp* memories 
 of Kundry, mingled with the sacred themes of The Grail, 
 The Eucharist, The Cry to the Saviour, and The Lance,
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 457 
 
 with v hich the Satanic motiv of Magic is at war, while 
 he describes to us the cruel sufferings he endures every 
 time he is fo ccd to exercise his priestly functions. 
 From th - choir of the Youths mysteriously falls a mem- 
 ory of The Promise ; the Knights insist that the unfor- 
 tunate man shall fulfil his duty, and Titurel's voice more 
 imperatively commands The Grail to be uncovered. 
 
 Then The Eucharist is heard in all its majesty, almost 
 in the same orchestral arrangement as at the beginning 
 of .the Prelude, except that the violins are supplanted by 
 the Children's voices, which seem to come from the sky 
 with the words of Consecration. In the meantime the 
 miracle is accomplished. 
 
 The Bells are again heard ; then the three choirs, first 
 the Children, next the Youths, and lastly the Knights, 
 sing a psalm of thanksgiving Then, by an inverse 
 arrangement, first the Knights, then the Youths, and finally 
 the Children raise their voices in a sort of formula of 
 faith, hope, and charity, which is harm nized by the 
 theme of The Grail, and is lost in the heights of the 
 dome. 
 
 The King's train withdraws, and then the Knights, 
 and the troops of Youths again marching with a more 
 active step, escorted by the same motive which accom- 
 panied their entrance and the chime of The Bells of the 
 Grail. 
 
 Gurnemanz and Parsifal being left alone, the orches- 
 tra, in a singularly expressive combination, recalls the 
 motive of The Promise, The Cry to the Saviour, Parsifal, and 
 The Swan ; and when Gurnemanz, after having turned 
 Parsifal out, has himself retired and the stage is deserted, 
 a prophetical voice is heard in a repetition of The Promise, 
 to which the voices of the dome reply, like a celestial 
 echo, with The Grail and The Lance.
 
 458 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 Act II. 
 
 Following our methods in the first act, we shall divide 
 the present one into the three parts which naturally pre- 
 sent themselves: I, the evocation of Kundry; 2, the 
 Flower-Maidens; 3, the scene between Kundry and 
 Parsifal, and the latter's victory over Klingsor. 
 
 The Prelude is entirely one with the scene ; if it were 
 not for The Cry to the Saviour, which is not immediately 
 explicable, it would be entirely made up of the diabolical 
 motive of Klingsor, Magic, and Kundry : the evocation 
 occurs to Magic and Klingsor, but Kundry's appearance 
 brings back The Cry to the Saviour, the sole and supreme 
 aspiration of the unhappy victim of the curse ; desper- 
 ately she clings to it, seeking by this ardent prayer to 
 free herself from the influence of the magician. Each 
 of these useless efforts is accented by a wild cry of Kun- 
 dry, the wild woman whose terrible destiny it is to be 
 alternately subject to the infernal powers and to the 
 sweet influences of the holv temple. 
 
 Klingsor reminds her of their numerous victories, 
 among others, The Lance, which, thanks to her, he has 
 succeeded in capturing, and tells her of the fresh victim 
 whom he has in store for her for to-day : " A Guileless 
 Fool," personified by the motiv of The Promise. The 
 remainder of this scene, during which Kundry does not 
 cease to maintain a useless struggle against the dominat- 
 ing will of the magician, gives rise to frequent returns 
 of the preceding motive, mingled with memories of the 
 Suffering of Amfortas, over which the odious enchanter 
 gloats ; of The Grail, the power of which he hopes to 
 gain ; and then Parsifal's theme is heard. Klingsor, 
 climbing up to the battlements of his tower, joyfully
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 459 
 
 watches him overthrow all the defenders of his castle, 
 whom he excites to the combat, while Parsifal continues 
 to advance, accompanied sometimes by his own theme, 
 Parsifal, and sometimes by that which symbolizes his 
 character and his unconscious mission, The Promise. 
 Meanwhile, Kundry, finally brought to submission, has 
 disappeared to prepare for her role of seduction. 
 
 Second Tableau : the Flower-Maidens. To the 
 above dark and sinister scene, by one of those violent 
 contrasts which Wagner is always fond of, there instan- 
 taneously follows the picture of the Enchanted Gardens, 
 seductive, if not by its scenery, at least by its action and 
 music, a place of perdition especially created by Klingsor 
 for the Knights of the Grail. There, seductive and 
 perfidious creatures, half-women, half-flowers, are about 
 to put our chaste hero to various proofs for which he is 
 not in the least prepared. After his arrival, in terror, 
 thev utter their Plaint in a very close dialogue, in which 
 this characteristic figure frequently occurs : 
 
 PLAINT OF THE FLOWER-MAIDENS 
 
 Flower-Maidens 
 
 their only thought is to bewail the aggression which has just 
 spread destruction among their lovers, Klingsor's slaves; 
 but, immediately Parsifal appears, their conduct changes, 
 and they no longer think of am thing but allurement;
 
 460 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 the Plaint gradually dies away and gives place to motivt 
 full of grace and charm, among which several pervading 
 forms, such as the following, intertwine in the most vol- 
 uptuous and brilliant manner. Half singing and half 
 dancing (posturing), The Flotuer- Mai dens many times 
 renew the attack, which is always repulsed by Parsifal 
 with a gentleness which is not free from a certain curi- 
 osity, quite excusable in view of such provoking entice- 
 
 THE FLOWER-MAIDENS 
 
 Flower-Maidens 
 
 ±—n& i-^rma—-n3 
 
 ■ u j— - JT7J1 
 
 gfeM 
 
 ^W 
 
 m i 
 
 t^bJ qi 
 
 do Ice 
 
 +^~±= 
 
 n
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 1st Group. 
 
 461 
 
 ments ; whence arise frequent interwea* trigs of the typical 
 moth of the chaste hero and those, so full of teasing 
 playfulness, of the seductive beauties:
 
 462 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 Parsifal 
 
 Plaint of the Flower-Maidens. 
 3 
 
 It is then that Kundry takes a hand ; now, also, the 
 name of Parsifal is pronounced Tor the first time, and the 
 notes to which it is spoken are none other than those of 
 The Promise. The perfidious enchantress begins by 
 softening his heart with a long conversation about his 
 mother, Herzeleide, after having sent away the sportive 
 band, whose Plaint we again recognize. 
 
 The great scene of seduction, highly developed and of 
 extreme importance in the work, makes use of several 
 of those themes we already know, and introduces us to 
 two new ones ; the order in which they occur is mainiv 
 as follows : The Promise, which personifies the chaste 
 and pure character of the hero; The Lance, which he 
 has found again ; Magic, which seeks to enfold him ; 
 llrzeleide and Herzeleide's Grief (which is often called 
 Herzeleide' s Second Motiv). 
 
 HERZELEIDE'S GRIEF
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 4f>3 
 
 Next appears the motiv proper to Kundry ; her kiss 
 belongs to Magic; but Parsifal immediately remembers 
 The Eucharist^ at which he was present, and The Cry to 
 the Saviour, and he understands Kundry's odious role; 
 Amfortas's Suffering comes into his mind with The Grail 
 and The Lance. All these motive, powerfully developed, 
 struggle with those of Magic and Kundry, whom he recog- 
 nizes as the one who has ruined the King. She herself 
 reveals her psychical nature to him, the curse which weighs 
 upon her, and the sin by which she has deserved this chas- 
 tisement : that she saw the Saviour ( The Eucharist} on 
 the'day of his crucifixion {Good Friday} \ that she laughed 
 
 Kundry 
 
 GOOD FRIDAY 
 
 (Kundry), that she is the cause of the agony of Amfortas 
 (Suffering)^ and that she acts under the compulsion of the 
 spells of a magician (Klingsor and Magic). Parsifal prom- 
 ises Kundry that she shall be redeemed (The Promise and 
 Faith); she, becoming more and more passionate, again 
 displays all her seductive wiles, she begs him (Plaint of 
 the Flower-Maidens), she threatens him, pursues him 
 (The Gallop), and tries to take him in her arms by force 
 (Kundry). Suddenly Klingsor appears, brandishing / 
 
 • Wt must be very careful not t<> confound this motiv with the 
 Spell of Good Friday (sec p. 46SJ, which is "i an entirely different 
 character.
 
 464 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 Lance and menacing Parsifal with it ; but the weapon 
 remains suspended motionless above the head of the lat- 
 ter, who seizes it and traces the sign of the cross [The 
 (trail)} At this sign the Gardens crumble away, the 
 magic flowers wither, and Klingsor falls dead. 
 
 We see with what wonderful art the Leit-motive are 
 manipulated in this great scene, the moving incidents of 
 which, thanks to them, we can follow step by step, even 
 if we are ignorant of the language or cannot distinguish 
 the words. 
 
 Act III. 
 
 This last act is of itself divided into two tableaux : 
 1, the hut of the old knight, Gurnemanz, in the do- 
 mains of The Grail ; 2, the scene in the Temple. 
 
 This Prelude, which is also intimately connected with 
 the action, from the very beginning shows us one of the 
 aspects, at once smiling and forbidding, of the district 
 around the castle of Montsalvat, that of The Desert, 
 
 THE DESERT 
 
 ' I 1 I 
 
 1 At the very moment when Kling- 
 sor throws the sacred weapon at Parsi- 
 fal, a curious orchestral effect must be 
 pointed out to the attentive listener: to 
 produce the impression of the ac/iiz- 
 Ztng of The Lance through the air, 
 Wagner employs a long glissando on 
 the harps, two octaves in extent, which 
 is singularly descriptive.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 465 
 
 where the pious servant of The Grail has established his 
 retreat, as well as the subjects of his constant meditation, 
 the enigmatical Kundry, The Promise of a new redeemer, 
 the enchantments of Magic, The Lance which only a 
 "Guileless Pool" can regain, the* Satanic role of the 
 Flower-Maidens (represented by their Plaint) and of the 
 sorcerer Klingsor. Gurnemanz's attention is attracted 
 by groans which seem to come from a bush, and which 
 his piety leads him to regard in the light of Expiation: 
 
 EXPIATION 
 
 in fact, beneath the brambles, he discovers the motionless 
 body of Kundry, still under the influence of Magic. He 
 succeeds in restoring her to animation, and as she awakes 
 from her hypnotic sleep with a memory of the Plaint, 
 although henceforth under the influence of The Grail, 
 she utters a loud cry, which carries out in a sinister 
 manner the fantastic figure of the laughter of Kundry; a 
 recurrence of The Balm clearly shows that we are now 
 in the presence of the beneficent and repentant Kundry. 
 Gurnemanz, however, remarks a change in her conduct, 
 which he attributi s to the sanctitv a\' this dav, consecrated 
 above all others to The Grail, Good Friday. W hile 
 busying herself with occupations which seem quite cus- 
 tomary to her, she warns Gurnemanz with a sign that a 
 stranger is approaching from the- forest. The orchestra 
 immediately informs us who the stranger is : it is Pan:-
 
 4 66 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 fal, clad in his black armour, with his vizor lowered, so 
 that Gurnemanz does not recognize him. He, however, 
 kindly wel< jmes him with the salutation of The Grail, 
 and informs him that on this day of Good Friday people 
 must not walk armed within the sacred domain. Parsi- 
 fal then takes ofF his armour and arranges it as a kind 
 of trophy, piously kneeling before it. Then both Gur- 
 nemanz and Kundry recognize him, which necessarily 
 brings back the sacred motive of The Eucharist, The 
 Lance, on which Gurnemanz gazes with fervent emo- 
 tion, The Promise, The Cry to 'the Saviour, Good Fridav, 
 and, the moment Parsifal concludes his prayer, The 
 Grail. 
 
 Here, under certain words of the old Knight, appears 
 a short melodic figure which will return somewhat fre- 
 quently, and which may be considered as a new aspect 
 of the surrounding country, The Second Form of The 
 Desert : eight bars farther on, notice a sweet and delight- 
 
 THE SECOND FORM OF THE DESERT 
 
 ful return of The Breeze. All the motive which are in- 
 terwoven during the rest of the scene are now too well 
 known to the reader to need being mentioned ; also during 
 the essentially Biblical or rather evangelical scene, when 
 Kundry washes Parsifal's feet and Gurnemanz conse- 
 crates and anoints him King of the Grail, we necessarily 
 find all the sacred themes, with a few rare allusions to 
 those of a demoniac nature, such as that of the Plaint of
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 467 
 
 the Flower-Maidens, which now becomes the Plaint of 
 Kundry. When Parsifal in his turn baptizes the sinner, 
 Faith is the dominant theme; the sinister fit of nervous 
 laughter is silenced and will never appear again. 
 
 Immediately after the baptism, a delightful phrase, a 
 pervading figure, full of the most divine sweetness and 
 grace, gently forces itself upon our attention (it has 
 been already announced in a vague way and with a syn- 
 copated rhythm in the key of A-flat, as I reproduce it 
 here, shortly after the opening of the act, on Parsifal's 
 
 arrival, when Kundry tells Gurnemanz that a stranger is 
 approaching) ; without absolute!',' constituting a Leit- 
 motiv, for only one allusion will be subsequently made to 
 it, it is of very great importance in this scene, over which 
 it spreads an intense feeling of calm and sweet reflection ; 
 it is called The Spell (or The Enchantment) of Good Friday. 1 
 In the course of this suave and placid episode, while 
 Gurnemanz is explaining to his new King how this day, 
 
 1 It is also sometimes called T-he Flowering Meadow). It was 
 
 written long before the rest of the score.
 
 4.68 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 THE SPELL OF GOOD FRIDAY 
 
 b££ 
 
 PS 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^=^L 
 
 
 jft c r i- 
 
 5^g 
 
 ,CTJS 
 
 which most people consider as fatal and cursed, is at 
 Montsalvat, on the contrary, regarded as the day of su- 
 preme blessing, we find again in the orchestral web : 
 Expiation many times repeated, The Eucharist, Good 
 Friday, The Cry to the Saviour, The Grail, The Plaint of 
 the Flower-Maidens (Kundrv's Plaint), and finally The 
 Promise. But what is particularly interesting is that we 
 here find that employment so characteristic of the Wag- 
 nerian style of the harmonic and melodic progression 
 which is found in the two Choruses of Pilgrims in Tann- 
 bauser, to which I have already called attention (p. 270). 
 We must not regard this either as a fortuitous resem- 
 blance or a simple reminiscence ; when we have identical
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 469 
 
 sentiments it is rational to employ an identical mode of 
 expression, and that is what the composer has unhesitat- 
 ingly done : 
 
 Gurnemanz 
 
 The Bells of Montsalvat are calling us to the holy 
 place. As in the first act, moving scenery conducts us 
 theie. We arrive even in advance of the characters. 
 
 There, with the same scenery as in the first act, we 
 first see two processions, — one bearing Titurel's coffin, 
 the other Amfortas's litter; and again the latter is called 
 upon by all the Knights once more to fulfil his priestly 
 functions, but neither The Cry to the Saviour, nor Faith, 
 nor The Eucharist and Good Friday can induce him to 
 perform them ; the Suffering he has to endure fills him 
 with terror. 
 
 It is then that Parsifal appears followed bv Gurne- 
 manz and Kundrv, and with a still better escort in the 
 sacred motive of The Grail and of The Lance which he 
 holds in his hand. With the point of the sacred weapon 
 he touches the dreadful wound, and Suffering vanishes in 
 the theme of The Promise, which is now fulfilled. 
 
 The motiv of Parsifal then sounds triumphantly, fol- 
 lowed by Faith and The Lance, and, in his turn, he com- 
 mands : "Let the Holy Grail be uncovered." Then in 
 his hands the miracle is repeated; amid sparkling arpeg-
 
 470 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 gios are heard the themes of The Grail, The Eucharist, 
 Faith, and the choir of three stages, now united, chant in 
 a mighty Alleluia : " Salvation to (Parsifal), the Saviour." 
 Then come the motive of Faith, and lastly The 
 Eucharist, majestically terminating the symphonic epi- 
 logue, " Strong is Desire ; but still stronger is Resistance." 
 
 (R. Wagner.) 
 
 In the course of the work we may still gather a cer- 
 tain number of secondary themes, which have more or 
 less the character of Leit-motive, but which it is not in- 
 dispensable for us. to know in order' to understand the 
 work, because they occur merely as episodes. I here 
 offer a few only, with the sole aim of facilitating re- 
 search, only repeating that, having once begun, here, as 
 elsewhere, a much greater number of them may be dis- 
 covered : 
 
 Ardour, which only appears in the second part of the 
 Duet between Kundry and Parsifal, in the second act : 
 
 ARDOUR 
 
 Kundry 
 
 Resignation, which is merely outlined a few pages 
 farther on, but which we find, in the exact form given 
 below, in the first scene of the third act, where Kundry 
 is bringing some water to the fainting Parsifal :
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 RESIGNATION 
 
 47 1 
 
 jA» ^ 
 
 bJ J^ | , U hJ 
 
 ^^ 
 
 &- 
 
 s 
 
 fr<g 
 
 
 Benediction, which immediately succeeds the preceding 
 
 motiv : 
 
 BENEDICTION 
 
 Gurnemanz's Lamentations over Titurel's death, which 
 are only separated from The Benediction by 26 bars, and 
 will be found at the first words of the chorus of Knights 
 (in the last tableau) : 
 
 LAMENTATIONS 
 
 The Bells of Mohtsalvat, whose grave and solemn ring- 
 ing almost always accompanies the religious ceremonies,
 
 47 2 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 which, by an entirely natural transformation, becomes 
 the march rhythm to which the Knights of the Holy 
 Grail defile past, etc. 
 
 THE BELLS OF MONTSALVAT 
 
 S 
 
 ±±±=±3 
 
 8*Hassa 
 
 In ending this brief analysis of the style which Wagner 
 created with the ringing of the bells cf Montsalvat, I .can- 
 not help drawing attention here (which will strengthen 
 what has already been said on pp. 239, 244, 245, 250, 
 251, 271, 273, 344 and others, and which will now be 
 better understood) to what may be called the roots of the 
 Wagnerian musical language. 
 
 If we compare certain very characteristic motive with 
 each other : 
 
 The Bells of Montsalvat 
 
 which serves as a march for the Knights, 
 
 IVaking Love 
 
 of The Meistersinger, 
 
 The Beating 
 
 of the second act of the same work, 
 
 The IValfz, of the Apprentices . . . 
 of the third act, 
 
 The Love of Life 
 
 in Siegfried, 
 
 and The Decision to Love 
 
 also in Siegfried, third act, we are struck by the analogy 
 of the structure which thev present with their regular 
 descents by successive fourths, and by the similar senti- 
 ments they expiess: there is always the feeling of inten- 
 tion and decision, of a resolution formed. 
 
 3s jj Is egs
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 473 
 
 It is therefore indisputable that tlm particular and 
 energetic form naturally presented itself to Wagner's 
 mind even time he desired to express the idea of volun- 
 tary action, and tree and unconstrained movement, and 
 that he thus employed it. Whether this is intentional 
 or involuntary, it matters little, — it is a fact. 
 
 And this remark becomes still more interesting when 
 we state that Beethoven, who is most certainly one of 
 the spiritual ancestors of Wagner, his forerunner most 
 indisputably before all others, had already employed an 
 identically similar formula for the purpose of express- 
 ing an act of laborious decision : 
 
 C 
 
 A G 
 
 B flat 
 F 
 
 DER SCHWER GEFASSTE ENTSCHLUSS 
 Grave 
 
 * )■-.} f 
 
 jyww— 
 
 muss es sein r 
 Allegro 
 
 Es muss sein 
 
 That is a root. — There are others, there are many 
 others, some of which it has only been possible to indi- 
 cate by inference in the course of this chapter. — It is 
 a whole unexplored mine to be exploited by the learned 
 musicographers who wish to go more deeply into the 
 mj steries of the Wagnerian philosophy, where everything 
 has not yet been discovered. 
 
 1 " Must it be ? It must lie ! 
 Quartet in F major, op. 135. 
 
 Beethoven, the motto of the
 
 474 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THE INTERPRETATION 
 
 " Suit the action to the word, the word 
 to the action ; with this special ob- 
 servance, that you o'erstep not the 
 modesty of nature: for anything so 
 overdone is from the purpose of 
 playing, whose end, both at the first 
 and now, was and is, to hold, as 
 't were, the mirror up to nature." 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 WE have seen in the life of Wagner how exces- 
 sively repugnant to him was the mere thought 
 of following Art for money. Money, however, was neces- 
 sary to him, and even indispensable for the realization 
 of his vast conceptions ; but he never considered it as 
 anything but a means, not as an end. 
 
 This noble way of looking at the cultivation of Art 
 has become in some measure the device of the courage- 
 ous band from which the Festival-Theatre is recruited, 
 every time it is opened for a series of performances ; the 
 characteristic of every Wagnerian artist-interpreter, as we 
 find him at Bayreuth (and there only), is complete dis- 
 interestedness, the abnegation of his own personality, as 
 well as his own interests •, according to the example set by 
 the Master, he comes there with no other motive than 
 the pure desire of producing Art for Art's sake. There- 
 fore no one, neither the singers nor the members of the 
 < horus, the musicians in the orchestra nor the scene- 
 fitters, the instructors nor the leaders of the orchestra,
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 475 
 
 receive* anything in the nature of money or reward ; they 
 all receive a simple indemnity which scarcely covers their 
 living expenses ; sometimes even they have refused that ; 
 their travelling-expenses are paid, and they are lodged 
 vvith an inhabitant at the charge of the administration ; 
 when the performances come to an end, they depart, 
 without having realized any pecuniary profit, for they 
 have not come for that. The happiness of co-operating 
 in the great work, of participating in a magnificent dis- 
 play of the beautiful, is sufficient for them ; they are 
 Priests of Art, artists in the purest and highest sense of 
 the word, and, with rare exceptions, thev are religious 
 artists, convinced of the greatness of their mission. 
 
 For the singer who is heard in Paris, Munich, Brus- 
 sels, or elsewhere, the greatest composer will always be 
 the one who has afforded him the greatest number of 
 successes ; the best work that in which the best role is 
 allotted to him ; he thinks more of the business side than 
 of the art, seeking above all to please the public and 
 have himself intrusted with an important and sympathetic 
 role, so as to be able afterwards to look forward to a 
 more advantageous engagement, and finally to get rich. 
 But on the day when he comes to Bayreuth, all idea of 
 lucre is dismissed in advance : it is a pilgrimage that he 
 is performing, and from that moment his whole will and 
 intelligence are directed solely to a reverential interpre- 
 tation of the work, putting aside the sordid considerations 
 and jealousies of the green-room. His sole aim hence- 
 forth is to render as faithfully as possible the part which 
 is assigned to him, without attempting to introduce into 
 it any other effects than those which are contained in it, 
 respectfully conforming to the exact letter and to the 
 tradition which is still alive in the minds and memories 
 of the surviving collaborators of the revered Master.
 
 476 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 We can understand, aside from the individual value 
 of each assistant, what cohesion and truth the execution 
 and interpretation may gain when the actor is inspired 
 with such feelings, when he regards his functions like an 
 accomplished priest with happiness and pride, and when 
 he feels around him comrades who are impregnated with 
 the same respect for the dignity of Art. 
 
 It is not, therefore, the perfection or personal virtuos- 
 ity of this or that singer to which the exceptionally 
 striking and captivating character of the Bayreuth per- 
 formances must be attributed, but to that intimate solid- 
 arity, to that boundless devotion to the common cause, 
 which allows an artist, who is everywhere else accus- 
 tomed to play the leading parts, to accept here, without 
 feeling any loss of dignity, the very slightest character, 
 in which he will acquit himself with as much zeal and 
 conscientiousness as if he were the hero. These same 
 singers may be seen on other boards but they will never 
 be as they are here, because they have not the same in- 
 spiration. 
 
 The interpreter who intends to attack the Wagnerian 
 repertoire must be endowed with rare and manifold quali- 
 ties. Before all, he must possess naturally the artistic 
 sense, he must be an excellent musician, a musician who 
 cannot be baffled by any difficulty of intonation: — for 
 Wagner, by the very essence of his style, as we have 
 shown, treats the voice as a chromatic instrument, or 
 rather as a keyboard, 1 with a low and high compass, and 
 
 1 In a work which I esteem very highly (Ernst, Richard IVagner 
 and Contemporary Drama), I have seen this same subject treated in 
 terms which :it first sight seem contradictory to mine; it is not so, 
 however, it i- merely a question of words. I call the way in which 
 Mozart lias treated the voice -vocal style, not entirely neglecting the 
 side of virtuosity, and, in comparison, the way in which Beethoven 
 employs the vonv I consider more instrumental. When I say that
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 477 
 
 various registers, but he neither takes, nor should take, 
 account of the eftort required to pass from one note to 
 another, or constantly to change the key, or to bridge 
 difficult intervals ; he does not try either to be easy or 
 to favour a singer's showy effects or virtuosity ; dramatic 
 accent and declamation, sung and intoned, stand for him 
 above everv other consideration, and it is by this means 
 that he obtains truth of language, absolute cohesion be- 
 tween the poem and the measured recitative which the 
 singers have to give forth on the stage, while the sym- 
 phonic web is being unwound in the orchestra, two ele- 
 ments of equal importance. — The Wagnerian interpreter 
 must also have the true qualities of a tragedian ; for there 
 is as much action and by-play as singing, and the least 
 fault, the least stage awkwardness, here becomes the 
 equivalent of a false note ; it is a discord. 
 
 But what is indispensable above all else is absolute 
 docility and submission to the gentle and urbane direc- 
 tions of those 'in charge of the instruction, including 
 Julius Kniese, who for many years has fulfilled the duties 
 of chief of the singing, and, more especially, Frau Wag- 
 ner, who watches with maternal care over the treasures 
 committed to her keeping, takes an active part in all the 
 rehearsa 3 and performances, and possesses the precious 
 traditions in a higher degree than any one else, and does 
 not intend them to fall into decay ; :iv.d in this she is per- 
 fectly right. 
 
 Every role has been minutelv mapped out to the smallest 
 detail by Wagner ; effects are not to be sought after, those 
 
 Wagner treats the voice as an instrument, I mean as a special in- 
 strument, the 'vocal declamatory instrument, if you like, and I no 
 more say that he writes tor the voice as for the violins, than that he 
 writes the flute parts like those of the trombone, which would be a 
 simple absurdity.
 
 478 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 that are intended are simply to be observed. The best 
 interpreter is therefore the one who is most faithful and 
 sincere. And, above all, let it not be thought that this 
 docile and respectful manner of interpretation lessens in 
 the smallest degree the singer's prestige ; on the contrary, 
 it shows that he is possessed of the purest and most ex- 
 quisite artistic feeling. 
 
 Moreover, this is how Wagner, speaking of the cele- 
 brated tenor Schnorr, the marvellous creator of Tristan, 
 expresses himself on this subject : 
 
 "Schnorr was a born poet and musician: like myself he 
 passed from a general classical education to the particular study 
 of music ; it is very probable that he would soon have followed 
 in the same direction as myself if he had not developed those 
 inexhaustible vocal powers that were to help to realize my 
 highest ideals, and consequently to make him directly associated 
 with my career, by complementing my own labours. In this 
 new vocation our modern civilization offered him no other ex- 
 pedient than that of accepting engagements on the stage, of 
 becoming a tenor, very much as Liszt, in a similar case became 
 a pianist." 
 
 In saying this, he ranked the genius of interpretation 
 with that of creation, and showed in what esteem he him- 
 self held the artist who was capable of assimilating the 
 . author's inmost thoughts and faithfully portraying them. 
 
 As for the rest, Bayreuth should not be visited for the 
 sake of hearing the actor, but for seeing the work, con- 
 sidering ourselves happy if we have the good fortune to 
 chance upon an interpretation of absolute genius, which 
 sometimes happens, but this is not necessary for the under- 
 standing of the work. 
 
 From its origin to 1892, the Festival-Theatre was 
 entirely dependent, so far as its singers were concerned, 
 on the great theatres of Germany ; at present the school
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 479 
 
 of dramatic singing, of the creation of which Wagner had 
 long dreamed, which, to tell the truth, only yet exists in 
 a rudimentary form, and which is often called the Con- 
 servatoire of Bayreuth, is beginning to hear fruit. 
 
 There, under the direction- of Julius Knicsc and the 
 strong impulse of Mine. Wagner, young people of vocal 
 talent learn what is necessary for the interpretation of 
 the Wagnerian works; they arc first made thorough 
 musicians and elocutionists, their voices are developed, 
 their musical and dramatic intelligence is elevated, op- 
 portunity is afforded for them to rehearse in scenes of 
 secondary and sometimes of higher importance, and then 
 they make their first attempts at the Festival-Theatre as 
 simple members of the chorus. Thus in 1894 five 
 pupils of the Bayreuth School were found in the choruses, 
 three women and two men, Breuer and Burgstaller; 
 both the latter were at the same time entrusted with 
 roles which form mere episodes in Lohengrin, Parsifal. 
 and Tannhauser. In 1896, Breuer made an excellent 
 Mime, whilst Burgstaller interpreted the important char- 
 acter of Siegfried in a more than satisfactory manner. 
 
 These are the first productions of the youthful School 
 of Bayreuth, from which we mav hope to see a race of 
 musician-singers arise, a species of extreme rarity, and 
 one almost unknown, alas ! under our skies. 
 
 The theatre of Bayreuth has been opened eleven times 
 since its erection to 1896. 
 
 In 1896 the Tetralogy of Der Ring des Nibelungen 
 
 was given three times 12 performances 
 
 In 1882, Parsifal 1 6 « 
 
 In 1883, Parsifal 12 « 
 
 In 1884, Parsifal 10 "
 
 4 8o 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 In 1886, Parsifal . . . 
 and Tristan und Isolde 
 In 1888, Parsifal . . . 
 
 and Die Meistersinger 
 In 1889, Parsifal . . . 
 Tristan und Isolde 
 and Die Meistersinger 
 In 1 89 1, Parsifal 
 
 Tristan und Isolde 
 and Tannbduser 
 In 1892, Parsifal 
 
 Tristan und Isolde 
 Tannbduser 
 and Die Meistersinger 
 In 1894, Parsifal 
 
 Lohengrin . 
 
 and Tannbduser 
 
 In 1896 five performances of the 
 
 Tetralogy of the Ring made 
 
 9 performances. 
 8 
 
 9 
 4 
 5 
 
 10 
 
 3 
 
 7 
 8 
 
 4 
 
 4 
 
 4 
 
 9 
 6 
 
 5 
 20 
 
 which makes a total of 182 representations, 
 
 32 of The Tetralogy (each division 8 times), 
 92 of Parsifal, 
 19 of Tristan, 
 l J of Die Meistersinger, 
 16 of Tannbduser, 
 and 6 of Lohengrin. 
 
 Below, also, we give the distribution of the roles, as 
 well as the persons directing each of these series of 
 performances; I think that much interesting informa- 
 tion on various points may be gained from these lists, 
 which have never been published, but the perfect authen- 
 ticity of which I guarantee.
 
 OF RICHARD \\ \( iNER 
 
 481 
 
 DER RING DES NIBELUNGEN 
 In 1876 and 1896 
 1876 1 
 
 Con in re roK . 
 
 Sl VGE-MaNAGER : 
 
 Insi b 1 1 roi 
 and assistant- 
 musicians on 
 the stage. 
 
 I [ans Richter. 
 
 Karl Brandt. 
 Anton Seidl. 
 Franz Fischer. 
 Mi in. mn Zimmer. 
 I (emetrius I alias. 
 
 eph Rubinstein. 
 
 ix Mottl. 
 
 1 Dei 
 Jos 
 
 VFel 
 
 1896 
 1 [ans Richter. 
 Felix Mottl. 
 
 Siegfried Wagner. 
 Julius Kni( s» ■ 
 Michael Balling. 
 Frantz Beidler. 
 Willibald Kahler. 
 < is, ar Merz. 
 arl Pohlig. 
 Edouard Ki.sler. 
 
 I; 
 
 RIIl'.IXGOLD 
 
 Wotan. 
 
 Donner. 
 
 Froh. 
 
 Loge. 
 
 Alberich. 
 
 Mime. 
 
 Fasoit. 
 
 Fafner. 
 
 Fricka. 
 
 Freia. 
 
 Erda. 
 
 Rhine- 
 Daughters. 
 
 Franz lletz. 
 
 Eugen Gura. 
 
 1 ri org linger. 
 
 Ilcinrich Vogl. 
 
 Carl Mill. 
 
 Carl Schlosser. 
 
 Albert Filers. 
 
 Franz von Reichenberg. 
 
 Friederike Griin. 
 
 Marie Haupt. 
 
 Luise Jai'de. 
 
 Lilli I /ehmann. _ 
 
 Marie I .ehnianiiT 
 
 Minna Lammert. 
 
 Hermann Bachmann. 
 
 Carl Perron. 
 I lerniann Hat hmann. 
 Alois Burgstaller. 
 Heinrich Vogl. 
 Fried. Friedrichs. 
 Hans Breuer. 
 Ernst Wachter. 
 Johannes Elmblad. 
 Marie Brema. 
 Marion Weed. 
 E. Schuinami-Hcink. 
 Josephine v. Artner. 
 Katharina Rosing. 
 Olive Fremstad. 
 
 DIE WALKURE 
 
 Siegmund. 
 
 Hunding. 
 Wotan. 
 
 Sieglinde 
 Brunnhilde. 
 
 Albert Niemann. 
 
 Joseph Niering. 
 Franz Betz. 
 
 Josephine Schefzky. 
 Amalie Materna. 
 
 Emil ( rei hauser. 
 
 I leinrich Vogl. 2 
 Ernst Wat hter. 
 I [inn. mn Bai hmann. 
 
 < .11 1 Pel 1011. 
 Rosa Sucher. 
 Ellen ' rulbransi «. 
 
 Lilli I.chnaann- Kalisch. 
 Marie IheilKi. 
 
 Josephine v. Artner. 
 
 Fricka. Friederike Griin. 
 
 Gerhilde. Marie Haupt. 
 
 1 The names of the Creators of the Tetralogy are engraved on a 
 marble slab in the peristyle of the theatre. 
 - Vogl's name was not on the programme ,
 
 482 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 Helmwige. 
 
 Ortlinde. 
 
 Waltraute. 
 
 Siegrune. 
 
 Rossweisse. 
 
 Grimgerde. 
 
 Schwertleite 
 
 Lilli Lehmann. 
 Marie Lehmann. 
 Luise Jai'de. 
 Antonie Amann. 
 Minna Lammert. 
 Hedwig Reicher- 
 
 Kindermann. 
 Johanna Jachmann- 
 
 Wagner. 
 
 Auguste Meyer. 
 Marion Weed. 
 E. Schuman n-Heinle 
 Johanna JNeumayen 
 Luise Reuss-Belce. 
 Katharina Rosing. 
 
 Olive Fremstad 
 
 SIEGFRIED 
 
 Siegfried. 
 
 Mime. 
 
 The Wanderer, 
 
 Alberieh. 
 Fafner. 
 Erda. 
 Brunnhilde. 
 
 The Bird 
 
 Georg linger. 
 
 Carl Schlosser. 
 Franz Betz. 
 
 Carl Hill. 
 
 Franz von Reichenberg. 
 
 Luise Jai'de. 
 
 Amalie Materna. 
 
 Marie Haupt. 
 
 Alois Burgstaller. 
 
 Wilhelm Griining. 
 
 Gustav Seidel. 1 
 H a ns Breuer. 
 Hermann Bachmann. 
 
 Carl Perron. 
 Fried. Friedrichs. 
 Johannes Elmblad. 
 E. Schumann-Heink. 
 Llleii Gulbraifson. 
 
 Lilli Lehmann-Kalisch 
 JosephTnev. Artner. 
 
 MMERUNG 
 
 Alois Burgstaller. 
 
 Wilhelm Griining. 
 
 Gustav Seidel. 
 Carl Gross. 
 Johannes Elmblad. 
 
 Carl Grengg. 
 Fried. Friedrichs. 
 Ellen Gulbranson. 
 
 Lilli L ehmann-Kalisch. 
 Luise Reuss-Belce. 
 E. Schumann-Heink. 
 M ar^e^ eTima ir?f. 
 Luise Reuss-Belce. 
 E. Schumann-Heink. 
 
 Josephine v. Artner. 
 katharina Rosing. 
 Olive Fremstad. 
 
 Chorus of 30 men 
 and 12 women. 
 
 1 Seidel's name was on the programmes, but he was not called 
 upon to fill the part. 
 
 
 DIE GOTTERDA 
 
 Siegfried. 
 
 Georg Unger. 
 
 Gunther. 
 
 Eugen Gura. 
 
 Hagen. 
 
 Gustav Siehr. 
 
 Alberieh. 
 
 Carl Hill. 
 
 Brunnhilde. 
 
 Amalie Materna. 
 
 Gutrune. 
 
 Mathilde Weckerlin. 
 
 Waltraute. 
 
 Luise Jai'de. 
 
 
 ( Johanna Jachmann- 
 J Wagner. 
 j Josephine Schefzky. 
 ( Friederike Griin. 
 
 The Norns. 
 
 The Rhine- 
 Daughters. 
 
 ( Lilli Lehmann. 
 
 Marie Lehmann. 
 ( Minna Lammert. 
 
 
 Chorus of 2S men 
 
 
 and 9 women.
 
 tannhAuser 
 
 In 1S91, 1892, and 1894. 
 
 
 ,8„ 
 
 .89* 
 
 1894 
 
 Conductors ■ 
 
 Hermann Levi. 
 Felix Mottl. 
 
 Julius Kniese. 
 Hermann Levi. 
 Felix Mottl. 
 Carl Muck. 
 Hans Rkhter. 
 
 Julius Kniese. 
 Hermann Levi. 
 Felix Mottl. 
 Hans Richter. 
 Richard Strauss. 
 
 Chorus-masters: 
 
 Julius Kniese. 
 Heinrich Porges. 
 
 
 
 Rehearsers 
 on the stage. 
 
 Carl Armbruster. 
 Albert Gorter. 
 Engelbert Humperdinck. 
 Otlo Lohse. 
 Oscar Merz. 
 Paumgartner. 
 Hugo Rohr. 
 Hans Steiner. 
 Richard Strauss. 
 
 Carl Armbruster (director 
 of music on the stage). 
 
 Kurt. Hosel. 
 
 Fngclbert Humperdinck. 
 
 Oscar Merz. 
 
 Carl Pohlig. 
 
 Heinrich Porges (chorus- 
 master). 
 
 Max Schilling. 
 
 Sk-gfried Wagner. 
 
 Carl Armbruster. 
 Eng. Humperdinck. 
 Oscar lunger- 
 Franz Mikoren. 
 Carl Pohlig. 
 Heinrich Porges. 
 Anton Schlosser. 
 Siegfried Wagner. 
 
 The Landgrave 
 
 Georg Doring. 
 Ileinr. Wiegand. 
 
 Georg Doring. 
 
 Georg Doring. 
 
 Tannhauaer. 
 
 Max Alvary. 
 
 Herm. Wmkelmann. 
 
 Heinr. Zeller. 
 
 Wilhelm Griming. 
 
 Wilhelm Gruning. 
 
 Wolfram. 
 
 Theodor Reichmann. '_ 
 Carl Scheideinantel. ' 
 
 J. Kaschmann. ' 
 Carl Scheide mantel. ' 
 
 G. Kaschmann. 
 Theodor Reichmann 
 
 Walter. 
 
 Wilhelm GrUning. 
 
 Emil Gerhauser. 
 
 Emil Gerhauser. 
 
 Bitercdf. 
 
 Emil Liepe. 
 
 Emil Liepe. 
 
 Michael Takats. 
 
 Henry. 
 
 Heinrich Zeller. 
 
 Heinrich Zeller. 
 
 Alois Burgstaller. 
 
 Reinmar. 
 
 Franz Schlosser. 
 
 Carl Bucha. 
 
 Carl Bucha. 
 
 Elizabeth. 
 
 Pauline dc Anna. 1 
 Elisa Wiborg. ] 
 
 Adolphi'ne Welschke. } 
 Elisa Wiborg. 1 
 
 Pauline de Anna. 
 Elisa Wiborg. 
 
 Venus. J 
 
 Pauline Mailhac 
 Rosa Sucher. 
 
 Pauline Mailhac. 
 
 Pauline Mailhac. 
 
 A young shepherd. j 
 
 Emilie Herzog. J 
 Luise Mulder. j 
 
 Luise Mulder. 1 
 Ida Pfund. ] 
 
 Marie Deppe. 
 Luise Mulder. 
 
 
 Chorus of 53 men 
 
 Chorus of 61 men 
 
 Chorus of 65 men 
 and 52 women. 
 
 Dancing under the direction of Mme. Virginia 
 
 Zuccbi; invariably 30 males an 
 
 d 34 females
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 4«3 
 
 Conductors: 
 
 Rehearsers and 
 
 musician-assistants 
 
 on the stage : 
 
 King Henry. 
 Lohengrin. 
 Frederick. 
 The Herald. 
 4 nobles. 
 
 Elsa. 
 Ortrude. 
 
 LOHENGRIN 
 
 1894 
 
 Julius Kniese. 
 
 1 [ermann Levi. 
 
 Felix Mottl. 
 
 Hans Richter. 
 
 Richard Strauss. 
 
 Carl Armbruster. 
 
 Eng. Humperdinck. 
 
 Oscar Jiinger. 
 
 Franz Mikoren. 
 
 Carl Pohlig. 
 
 Heinrich Forges. 
 
 Anton Schlosser. 
 
 Siegfried Wagner. 
 
 Carl Grengg. — Max Mosel. 
 
 Ernest van Dyck. 
 
 Demeter Popovici. 
 
 Hermann Bachmann. 
 
 Hans Breuer, Carl Bucha, Joseph Cianda, 
 
 Heinr. Scheuten. 
 Lilian Nordica. 
 Marie Brema. — Pauline Mailhac. 
 
 Chorus of 65 men and 52 women. 
 
 The composition of the orchestra is almost fixed and 
 invariable ; it can hardly be increased on account of the 
 impossibility of enlarging the space allotted to it, but 
 certain works necessitate the presence of a greater or 
 smaller number of instrumentalists on the stage. 
 
 Here is the exact number of which the orchestra has 
 been composed on the various occasions :
 
 484 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 Violins 
 
 Violas 
 
 Violoncellos 
 
 Double-Basses 
 
 Flutes 
 
 Oboes 
 
 Cor Anglais 
 
 Clarinets 
 
 Bass-Clarinets 
 
 Bassoons 
 
 Contrabassoons 
 
 Horns 
 
 Trumpets 
 
 Bass Trumpets 
 
 Trombones 
 
 Trombones — contrabass 
 
 Tubas — tenor 
 
 Tubas — bass 
 
 Tuba — contrabass 
 
 Kettledrums 
 
 Harps 
 
 1876 1886 1 
 
 3 2 
 
 1891 1892 
 
 3 2 
 
 1894 
 
 3- 
 
 1896 
 
 As will be seen, the String Quartet has suffered only 
 the slightest modifications ; the most curious are in the 
 Horns, which have varied from seven to eleven ; the 
 Bass Trumpet and the Tuba Contrabass only appear 
 when The Ring is played -, the latter also requires a third 
 Drum and four additional Harps. 
 
 The largest orchestra was that of 1896, containing 
 125 musicians, nine more than in 1876. 
 
 Like the singers, the orchestra is recruited from every 
 direction, more particularly in Germany, as is natural, 
 but also largely abroad. It is incontestably a body of 
 experts, and it is not rare to find in it artists who else- 
 where fulfil the duties and bear the title of- Leader of the 
 Orchestra, Kapellmeister, and Director of the Court 
 Music. But here, under the admirable direction of the 
 great artists, Hans Richter, Hermann Levi, and Felix
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 485 
 
 Mottl, they receive at the same time a technical instruc- 
 tion and an artistic impulse which they might seek for in 
 vain elsewhere. 
 
 HANS RICIITl K. 
 
 There is no need of severity to obtain exactitude and 
 obedience from them ; they all come with goodwill to 
 range themselves under the great and noble banner; the 
 orchestra is a united family, and the undisputed authority
 
 *86 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 of the chief is marked with a good humour which is quite 
 fatherly. At a recent rehearsal of Siegfried, one of the 
 drums had been struck a little before the right moment. 
 
 HERMANN LEVI. 
 
 11 Sir," said Richter gently, " I would have you observe 
 that Fafner does not die till the second beat," — which 
 was duly noted. 
 
 During the performances, if he darts an angry glance 
 at a culprit (which sometimes happens there as else-
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 4*7 
 
 where), he never fails to bestow a smile of satisfaction 
 
 and encouragement on the soloist who has just distin- 
 guished himself by an exact interpretation of his role ; I 
 
 
 FELIX Mi O 1 1 
 
 say role, for, there is no mistake about it, all the roles an 
 not upon the stage; there are many, and no he least 
 important, which arc confided exclusn ely to the orchestra, 
 and each musician, by the instruction gained at rehearsal,
 
 488 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 knows, at anv moment, the meaning of what he is doing, 
 whether he is simply contributing to an ensemble effect, or 
 whether the musical phrase in his charge possesses any 
 particular signification which must be accentuated, and 
 to what degree; he is not one of those who know better 
 than all the commentators the force of the Leit-motiv <e, 
 often without knowing their names, which are always 
 conventional and often variable, but, what is better, he 
 understands their spirit and inner meaning. Thence 
 results a symphonic execution which, even if it some- 
 times sins on the side of individual virtuosity, is charac- 
 terized bv exceptional intelligence ; it is not always 
 perfection, but right intention is always perceptible and 
 it never becomes meaningless. 
 
 At Bayreuth the orchestra, although so large, is never 
 noisy. If any fault is to be found with it, it is rather 
 that of being sometimes too subdued ; it never drowns 
 the voice of the singer, and every syllable is distinctly 
 audible ; this may arise partly from the utterance of the 
 actors, which is exceedingly clear in general, and from 
 the numerous consonants of the German language ; but 
 it is certain that the underground situation of the or- 
 chestra, like an inverted amphitheatre and partly covered 
 with screens, has much to do with it ; the fusion of 
 brasses and strings in the depths sometimes produces an 
 organ-tone which can only be heard there. 
 
 Moreover, there is nothing more curious than the 
 appearance of the orchestra during a performance ; un- 
 fortunately no one, without a single exception, is allowed 
 to go into it; the entrance is strictly guarded. The care- 
 fully shaded incandescent lights illuminate the stands 
 before which the musicians are seated, the majority of 
 them in their shirt-sleeves, for it is warm in July, and 
 they give their whole heart to the work ; people are fond
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 489 
 
 of telling how "bocks" accumulate beside them, which, of 
 course, are not touched till there area certain number of 
 bars' rest, but this is absolutely false. The truth is that 
 when their part gives them a rest, the neglected ones of 
 the orchestra, the Trombones and Tubas, who dwell in 
 the depths of the cave, surreptitiously creep, gliding 
 among the music-stands, to try to get a glimpse, if only 
 for a moment, of a corner of the stage, a happiness which 
 is reserved alone for those of the first and second violins 
 who are placed above in the first row. 
 
 The conductor above (who, like the others, takes off his 
 jacket and cravat), has his face lighted up by two lamps 
 whose powerful reflectors are turned upon him, so that 
 no one, on the stage or in the orchestra, may lose any of 
 his gestures or facial expressions; it is not his score that is 
 illuminated, he knows that by heart and rarelv glances at it; 
 it is himself, the absolute master, the sole one on whom 
 the whole responsibility of the entire interpretation falls. 
 
 Notwithstanding the talent and conscientiousness of 
 each of the participants and the profound experience and 
 conviction of the chiefs, it. is only after infinite and 
 laborious study that works so complex as those which 
 form the Bayreuth repertoire are finally produced. The 
 singers arrive, already knowing their parts by heart, and 
 the majority of musicians have already had opportunities 
 in other German theatres (exc ept in t he_ case of Parsifal , 
 which has never been performed elsewhere); but it still 
 remains for them to acquire that marvellous cohesion, 
 and that feeling of respect for the work which particu- 
 larly characterizes and gives a colour of its own to the 
 model-interpretation at the Festival- Theatre. 
 
 It seems to me therefore that it will be interesting to 
 give the reader as an example the Table of Rehearsals 
 of the Tetralogy of The Ring of the Nibelung in 1896.
 
 490 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 This preparatory work, arranged and settled in advance, 
 lasted from June 15th to July 18th without intermission 
 except for three days of rest wisely provided for towards 
 the close of the studies. 
 
 It follows in detail : 
 
 
 
 
 RHEINGOLD 
 
 
 ' 9 
 
 to n o'clock . 
 
 
 Wind instruments. 1 
 
 
 
 n 
 
 to 1 " 
 
 
 Strings. 
 
 June 
 
 ■5' 
 
 ( 
 
 10 
 
 33 c 
 k 5-3C 
 9 
 
 to 5.30 " 
 to S " 
 ton " 
 
 
 . ■ Stage with piano. 
 
 Full orchestra. 
 
 Stage with piano. 
 . Full orchestra. 
 
 June 
 
 16} 11 
 
 to 1 " 
 
 
 . Stage with piano. 
 
 June 
 
 I 3 
 
 ( 10 
 
 ,7 1 4 
 
 to 7 " 
 to 1 " 
 to 7 " 
 
 
 . Stage with orchestra 
 . Orchestra. 
 
 
 
 DIE WALK1 
 
 JRE 
 
 
 
 Act 
 
 I. 
 
 
 
 1 9 
 
 to 11 o'clock . 
 
 
 Wind instruments. 
 
 June 
 
 18, 
 
 11 
 
 10 
 
 3 
 
 to 1 
 
 u 
 
 to s " 
 
 
 Strings. 
 
 Stage with piano. 
 
 Full orchestra. 
 
 
 
 I 5 
 
 M 
 
 
 Stage with piano. 
 
 
 
 Act 
 
 II. 
 
 
 
 
 to 1 1 o'clock . 
 
 
 Wind instruments. 
 
 June 
 
 to 1 " 
 to I " 
 
 to 5 " 
 
 
 Strings. 
 
 Stage with piano. 
 
 Full orchestra. 
 
 
 
 I 5 
 
 to 8 " 
 
 
 Stage with piano. 
 
 1 Thf partial rehearsals of the orchestra take place in the Res- 
 taurant-Brasserie, to the left of the theatre as you face it. The 
 conductor bravely mounts a table with his chair and stand and the 
 musicians group themselves around him. It is very homelike and 
 picturesque.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 491 
 
 Act III. 
 
 June 20 
 
 ( 9 to 1 1 o'clock 
 
 II to I " 
 
 10 to I " 
 
 3 to 5 " 
 5 
 
 Wind instruments. 
 
 Strings. 
 
 Stage with piano. 
 
 Full orchestra. 
 
 Stage with piano. 
 
 Acts I. and II. 
 9.30 to 1 o'clock . . . Stage with orchestra. 
 
 Act III. 
 I ■; o'clocl 
 
 ( 9 ' 3 
 June 2i-[ 
 
 5 o'clock Stage with orchestra. 
 
 f 9 
 
 June 22 
 
 June 
 
 June 24 
 
 r 9 
 
 1 1 
 
 10 
 
 3 
 
 5 
 
 June 25-. 
 
 SIEGFRIED 
 
 Act I. 
 
 to 11 o'clock 
 to 1 
 
 to 5 
 
 Act II. 
 
 to 11 o'clock 
 to 1 
 
 to 1 " 
 to 5 " 
 to 8 " 
 
 Act III. 
 
 to 11 o'clock 
 to 1 
 
 to 1 " 
 to 5 " 
 
 Wind instruments. 
 
 Strings. 
 
 Stage with piano. 
 
 Full orchestra. 
 
 Stage with piano. 
 
 Wind instruments. 
 
 Strings. 
 
 Stage with piano. 
 
 Full orchestra. 
 
 Stage with piano. 
 
 Wind instruments. 
 
 Strings. 
 
 Stage with piano. 
 
 Full orchestra. 
 
 Stage with piano. 
 
 Acts I. and II. 
 9.30 to 1 o'clock . . . Stage with orchestra. 
 
 Act III. 
 V 5 o'clock Stage with orchestra.
 
 492 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 DIE GOTTERDAMMERUNG 
 Prologue 
 
 June 26 
 
 June 27 
 
 June 28 
 
 June 29- 
 
 r 9 
 
 to 1 1 o'clock . 
 
 . 
 
 Wind instruments. 
 
 1 1 
 
 to 1 
 
 
 Strings. 
 
 10 
 
 « 
 
 . 
 
 Stage with piano. 
 
 3 
 
 to 5 " 
 
 
 Full orchestra. 
 
 1 5 
 
 u 
 
 
 Stage with piano. 
 
 
 Act 
 
 I. 
 
 
 f 9 
 
 to 1 1 o'clock . 
 
 
 Wind instruments. 
 
 1 1 
 
 to 1 " 
 
 
 Strings. 
 
 10 
 
 " 
 
 
 Stage with piano. 
 
 3 
 
 to 5 " 
 
 
 Full orchestra. 
 
 1 5 
 
 it 
 
 
 Stage with piano. 
 
 
 Act 
 
 II 
 
 
 f 9 
 
 to 11 o'clock . 
 
 
 Wind instruments. 
 
 1 1 
 
 to I " 
 
 
 Strings. 
 
 10 
 
 " 
 
 
 Stage with piano. 
 
 3 
 
 to 5 << 
 
 
 Full orchestra. 
 
 1 5 
 
 
 
 Stage with piano. 
 
 
 Act 
 
 III. 
 
 
 r 9 
 
 to 11 o'clock . 
 
 
 Wind instruments. 
 
 1 1 
 
 to I " 
 
 
 Strings. 
 
 10 
 
 " 
 
 
 Stage with piano. 
 
 3 
 1 5 
 
 to 5 " 
 
 
 Full orchestra. 
 Stage with piano. 
 
 Prologue and Act I. 
 r 9.30 to 1 o'clock . . . Stage with orchestra. 
 June 30- Acts II. and III. 
 
 I t; o'clock Stage with orchestra. 
 
 July 1 
 
 " 2 
 
 " 3 
 
 " 4 
 
 " 5 
 
 " 6 
 
 Das Rheingold. 
 Die Walkiire. 
 Siegfried. 
 
 Full rehearsals with 
 orchestra.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 493 
 
 July 7 Die GbUcrdiimmcrung. ) 
 
 o << ■ f Full rehearsal s n iili 
 
 S 
 
 orchestra. 
 
 " 9 
 
 " 10 (Rest). 
 
 " 11 Reunion. 
 
 " 12 Das Rheingold. Full rehearsal. 
 
 " 13 Die Walkiire. 
 
 " 14 (Rest). 
 
 " 15 Siegfried. Full rehearsal. 
 
 " 16 Die Gotterdiimmerung. " 
 
 ' 17 Reunion. 
 
 " iS (Rest). 
 
 On the following day, the 19th, the performances 
 began. 
 
 The studies had been conducted otherwise and at 
 greater length at the time of the inauguration. 
 
 The four weeks of July, 1875, were given up to re- 
 hearsals with the piano : first week, Das Rheingold; second, 
 Die lValkiire\ third, Siegfried, and fourth, Die Gotterdiim- 
 merung. From the 1st to the 15th of August of the same 
 year, the same works were rehearsed with the orchestra ; 
 in the third week of August the stage part was studied. 
 
 These rehearsals, however, were onlj preparatory, fur, 
 in 1876, from June 3rd, the rehearsals were recommenced, 
 sometimes with the piano, sometimes with tin- orchestra, 
 and afterwards the stage; from August 6th to August 9th 
 the full rehearsals were held, and on Sunday, the 1 4th, at 
 7 p. m., the first performance began, with Das Rheingold. 
 
 So that in 1875 and 1876 there were about three 
 months of rehearsing. 
 
 From this we see that the life of the members of the 
 orchestra during the preparatory studies is not an idle one. 
 
 But the authorities know how to make' it pleasant tor 
 them. Mme. Wagner is there and loves to receive 
 them, to give them a heart) welcome, to fete them and
 
 494 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 encourage them in their work. They are welcome 
 guests at Wahnfried. 
 
 Generally they take their meals in common, in groups, 
 according to their hours of rehearsal, in one of the large 
 restaurants near the theatre, where they are very well 
 served at an exceedingly reasonable price. 
 
 Certainly they work very hard and tire themselves ; 
 but above their fatigue hovers the inspiriting thought of 
 the great performance to be realized, of the end to be 
 attained ; and so no one complains, all rejoice in their 
 mutual efforts and aid and encourage each other. 
 
 Immediately under the orders of the conductor are 
 placed the assistant-musicians of the stage, generally eight 
 in number, sometimes six, and rarely nine. Their duties 
 are very numerous and include those of chief of the sing- 
 ing and chorus, prompter, rehearser, and accompanist in 
 charge of those studying their roles ; they are constantly 
 about the stage, some at certain fixed points on the right 
 or left of the curtain, others following the singers, score 
 in hand, whilst keeping out of sight behind the wings 
 and portions of the scenery, constantly guiding the actors, 
 giving them the key, beating time to help them attack, 
 seeing that the shifting of the scenery exactly agrees 
 with the musical text, giving the signal for the effects of 
 light, etc., etc. They are the leader's staff officers. 
 Besides this, it falls within their province to play those 
 instruments which are only rarely used, — the large 
 organ in Lohengrin and the Meister singer, another, very 
 small (having only four pipes), placed in a corner of the 
 orchestra and serving notably to reinforce the E flat at the 
 beginning of Das Rheingold, the Glockenspiel (the Bells), 
 Beckmesser's lute, the thunder, etc., etc. It is needless 
 to say that these important functions, which are so full 
 of responsibility, can only be fulfilled by musicians whose
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 495 
 
 certainty of touch is absolute, and who are entirely calm, 
 collected, and capable of independent initiative. In 1876, 
 Mottl was one of these assistants; later we frequently 
 
 SIEGFRIED WAGNER. 
 
 find among them the names of Humperdinck, Carl Arm- 
 bruster, a London organist, Heinrich Porges, and finally, 
 in 1892 and 1894., Siegfried Wagner served his appren- 
 ticeship here before assuming the conductorship. 
 
 I regret not being able to give the names of all these
 
 496 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 great musicians hailing from all parts of Germany, Aus- 
 tria, England, Switzerland, and Russia. In 1876, France 
 was represented in the orchestra by a M. Laurent, at 
 that time a violinist at Montbeliard ; in 1896 two 
 Frenchmen took part in the performance, one as first 
 violin, the other as rehearser of roles and stage assistant; 
 these are: MM. Gustave Fridrich, who was long a first 
 violin at the Opera and at the Societe des Concerts; 
 and Edouard Risler, the young and already great pianist, 
 one of the brightest blossoms of our Conservatoire de 
 Paris, who accompanied on the piano the majority of the 
 stage rehearsals. 
 
 These two artists, whose extreme value and devotion 
 Mme. Wagner fully appreciates, have several times been 
 called upon, in company with the greatest singers, to 
 charm her audience of distinguished guests at the Wahn- 
 fried soirees during the Festival season. 
 
 Wagner attached a very great importance to the scenery 
 which he planned himself and which was executed under 
 his orders and after his minute directions by the artist- 
 decorators. The smallest detail did not escape him. 
 
 It is easy to understand that in an entirely darkened 
 hall, where the eyes of the spectator are neither dazzled 
 by the footlights nor attracted by any trifling or passing 
 incidents, the expressive force of the scenery is singularly 
 increased. The curtain itself is expressive. It does not 
 rise, as everywhere else; it parts in the middle gracefully, 
 rising towards the top corners with a suddenness or a 
 deliberate majesty according to circumstances, regulated, 
 like everything else, by the scrupulously careful Master 
 who left nothing to run the risks of interpretation. For 
 example, after the terrifying scene with which Gbtter- 
 d'dmmerung ends, the curtain closes as if regretfully, let- 
 ting us gaze long on the affecting flames of the pyre and
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 497 
 
 the conflagration of Walhalla ; whilst it brusquely shuts 
 out the riotous buffoonery in the scenes of the second 
 Act of Die Meister singer, by falling at a single blow as 
 the theatre is flooded with light amidst the joyous laugh- 
 ter of the spectators. 
 
 If the Wagnerian scenery is not always of extraordi- 
 nary richness, if it is more sober than that of the Opera 
 de Paris, or of the Chatelet, it is, on the other hand, more 
 harmonious, and by this I mean that it harmonizes better 
 with the work, and, so to speak, is incorporated with it; 
 with rare exceptions it succeeds in producing the desired 
 illusion. 
 
 Among those that seem to me defective, I will par- 
 ticularly mention that of the Flower- Maidens with its 
 loud and brutal tones and monstrous and improbable 
 blooms, which rather remind one of the hotel wall- 
 decorations of small provincial towns than of flowers of 
 magic and sorcery; the Rainbow of the last scene of Das 
 Rbeingold, which seems to be made of wood ; the tableau 
 of the Venusberg, which has never been a success on any 
 stage, and which, perhaps, it is impossible to realize; the 
 God Loge may be reproached for bis extreme parsimony 
 in the matter of the flames which should surround the 
 sleeping Walkyric on all sides; the Ride may be con- 
 sidered childish. But these are very small details, to 
 which we attach no importance whateyer when we are 
 captivated by the subject. 
 
 What we may regard with unbounded admiration are 
 the superb pictures of the first and third acts of Lohen- 
 grin, the Ship and Kareol in Tristan und Isolde, almost all 
 the scenery of Die Meister singer, and that one (which 
 perhaps is the most striking of all in its austere sincerity) 
 of the first and third acts of Parsifal', in the Tetralog) 
 of The Ring of the Nibelung, the first scene of the Prologue,
 
 498 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 the depths of the Rhine, Alberich's cavern, the Rock of 
 the Walkyries, the Forge, the forest scene by the Rhine, 
 and the two views, interior and exterior, of Gunther's 
 abode with the river in the background. All these are, 
 in truth, splendid, and add not a little to the emotion 
 roused by the music. 
 
 Despite all that has been said about it, the machinery 
 is not at all extraordinary; it is that of every well- 
 organized theatre ; sometimes, however, it is very inge- 
 nious, but always with simple means ; thus the scenery 
 in Parsifal, which passes first from left to right and then 
 from right to left, giving the spectator the impression 
 that it is he who is moving, is managed by simply rolling 
 up, on vertical cylinders, with varying speed, lengths of 
 scenery placed at different distances on the stage. To 
 avoid closing the curtains at the change of scene there is 
 an ingenious system of jets of vapour rising from the 
 ground and mingling with the clouds painted on gauze, 
 cleverly concealing from the audience what is passing on 
 the stage. The Rhine-Daughters, who seem to be really 
 swimming in the waters, moving with surprising ease, 
 and covering the whole height of the scene, sometimes 
 darting to the very top as if to breathe the air at the sur- 
 face of the water, are simply lying in a kind of metal 
 case, raised by means of invisible cords by strong work- 
 men moving freely above the stage. 1 At the first re- 
 hearsal one of the Undines fainted ; however, there is 
 no danger, for each of them is provided with six men 
 commanded by one of the assistant stage-musicians who 
 sees that their evolutions coincide with the music and 
 with the impotent efforts of Alberich, who looks like a 
 St. Bernard the Hermit chasing prawns, or sea-horses, in 
 
 1 This device dates from 1896. The means employed in 1876 
 was at once more complicated and less ingenious.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 499 
 
 an aquarium. The Dragon is the ordinary fairy-stage 
 contrivance ; a man makes him open his jaws and roll 
 his eyes, while the actor (Fafner), standing behind the 
 scenery at the back, bellows and roars into an immense 
 speaking-trumpet. 
 
 The stage business is quite different to ours. The 
 actors play much less to the audience than to each other ; 
 they look at each other when they speak ; they are not 
 afraid of turning their backs on the audience when occa- 
 sion demands, witness Parsifal, who stands in this atti- 
 tude in the foreground without moving during half of the 
 first act : they behave on the stage as they would do in 
 real life, without seeming to be conscious of an audience 
 in front of them. This is so natural to them that it 
 does not seem at all remarkable to us ; but if one of 
 them happens to differ and act in the conventional man- 
 ner, addressing his gestures and words to the audience, 
 we are immediately astonished and shocked. When 
 there is a chorus, moreover, the members do not arrange 
 themselves symmetrically in two rows, drawn up like sol- 
 diers in line, or in a half-circle, exactly facing the audi- 
 ence and raising their arms all together like automata at 
 the loudest note. Each one has his individual part, he 
 plays, sings, and acts it, and the result is a feeling of 
 truth and life that is infinitely more satisfying. 
 
 Wagner, then, had long put in practice the system of 
 natural stage action tried of late years at the Theatre- 
 Libre in Paris by a French comedian, — a system, which, 
 most happily, tends more and more to be generally 
 adopted. 
 
 The men's costumes are generally very beautiful ; 
 those of the women do not lend themselves to splendour 
 so readily as the brilliant armour of the Knights. With 
 the exception of the martial equipment of the Walkyries,
 
 500 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 a few rich female toilettes in Lohengrin, and the betrothal 
 toilettes of Eva and Isolde, Oueen of Cornwall, the 
 heroines, by their very character, are not intended to 
 make a parade of elegance. Let us note in passing that 
 Freia's adornment, in Rbeingold,was copied in detail from 
 one of the most graceful figures in Botticelli's Spring. 
 
 The expenses are very considerable ; to give only one 
 example, the cost of staging Der Ring des Nibelungen in 
 1896 amounted to 800,000 francs ($160,000), spread 
 over two years' work. 
 
 I would inform those who are astonished at this expense 
 that the scenery alone (that of 1876 having been lost), cost 
 1 55,000 francs ($3 1,000), 35,000 francs($7,OOo)of which 
 went for the clouds alone; and the scenery is not all; 
 there is its maintenance and machinery, the maintenance 
 of the theatre itself during the off years ; the costumes, the 
 lighting, for which a special electrical plant has been estab- 
 lished near the theatre ; then there are the travelling and 
 lodging expenses for all the artists, singers, soloists, mem- 
 bers of the chorus, instrumentalists, etc. 
 
 Finally, here, as in every other theatre, there is a 
 
 number of persons who are never seen by the spectator, 
 
 but who are necessary for working the scenery and 
 
 machinery, for lighting and dressing ; here they are in 
 
 detail : 
 
 2 head scene shifters. 
 
 2 assistant shifters. 
 28 working shifters (from Dresden, Carlsruhe, 
 
 Darmstadt, etc.) 
 45 carpenters. 
 10 joiners. 
 
 10 ordinary workmen. 
 1 chief of the light effects. 
 
 3 assistants. 
 
 1 chief of the general lighting. 
 5 assistants. 
 
 On the stage : ■ 
 
 i
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 501 
 
 , , .1 , . • ( 1 chief engineer. 
 
 At the electric V , . b , . . ■ , , 
 
 , < 2 working electricians tor running the dynamos, 
 
 plant : ) 1. , 
 
 (. 2 ordinary workmen. 
 
 f 1 head tailor. 
 
 4 tailms. 
 
 5 coutur tires. 
 12 dressers (when Tristan or Lohengrin is played, 
 
 and then an sometimes 250 peopli on the stage, 
 the number of dressers is in< reased to So). 
 
 1 chief hail di esser. 
 
 1 chief female hairdi esser. 
 
 4 hairdressers. 
 
 Total: 140 to 220 persons. 
 
 Adding together the actors, dancers, and chorus who 
 may be on the stage (sometimes 250), the orchestra with 
 its full complement of 1 1 horns and 8 harps (125), and the 
 stage assistants (220) we arrive at a grand total of 603 as 
 the respectable effective of the little army gathered directly 
 or indirectly under the command of the Conductor. 
 
 There is no bell to announce the end of the entr'acte. 
 When the time has come, a band of trumpets and trom- 
 bones furnished by the regiment in garrison at Bayreuth, 
 but in civilian costume, comes out or the theatre and 
 sounds a loud flourish to the four cardinal points in suc- 
 cession. Like all the rest, the m for these calls 
 have been regulated by Wagner himself. They are 
 always taken from the work being played and announce 
 one of the motive of the act about to commence. Here 
 is the full list : 
 
 TANNHAUSER Act I 
 
 THE HUNT 
 
 Trumpets in C 
 
 T W f f
 
 502 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 BEGINNING OF THE MARCH 
 
 Act I] 
 
 MOTIV OF PARDON 
 
 A A 
 
 A A /V O 
 
 Tromb. 
 
 Act III 
 
 LOHENGRIN 
 THE KING'S CALL, 
 
 7/ 
 
 Act 1 
 
 Act II 
 
 THE MYSTERY OF THE NAME 
 
 Trumpets / 
 in / 
 
 rfi^ a- 
 
 A 
 
 A 
 
 A 
 
 A 
 
 A 
 
 
 
 
 
 Tromb ' 
 
 JJ A 
 
 A 
 
 A 
 
 A 
 
 A 
 
 A 
 
 V 
 A 

 
 Troinb. 
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 503 
 
 An III 
 
 TRISTAN UND ISOLDE 
 
 Act I 
 
 FRAGMENT OF THE YOUNG SAILOR'S SONG 
 
 Tromb 
 
 fy\l * 'I r r h' jl| 
 
 M> ^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 Wi. f * ^ 
 
 £ 
 
 m 
 
 T^r-Hr 
 
 Alt II 
 
 DEATH
 
 504- 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 Act III 
 
 FRAGMENT OF SADNESS — MOTIV 
 OF THE SHEPHERD 
 
 Trumpets 
 in C 
 
 Tromb. 
 
 
 
 fy ^ "f — — 
 
 3 b r 
 
 
 EEEES L,„ 1 J ' 1 =■ 
 
 
 DIE MEISTERSINGER 
 
 Act I 
 
 Tromb 
 
 DIE MEISTERSINGER 
 
 .AAA ** 
 
 Act II 
 
 THE SERENADE 
 
 a a g 
 
 Act III 
 
 FANFARE OF THE CORPORATIONS 
 
 Tromb
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 505 
 
 DIE TETRALOGIE DER RING DES 
 
 NIBELUNGEN 
 
 DAS RHEINGOLD 
 INCANTATION OF THE THUNDER 
 
 Tronib 
 
 Trumpets 
 
 Tromb. 
 
 Trumpet 
 
 Tromb 
 
 DIE WALK.URE 
 THE SWORD 
 
 Acts I and II 
 
 THE SWORD 
 
 Act III
 
 506 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 SIEGFRIED Act I 
 
 CALL OF THE SON OF THE WOODS 
 
 Act II 
 
 VARIATION OF THE CALL OF THE 
 SON OF THE WOODS 
 
 Trumpets 
 
 Tromb. 
 
 Act III 
 SIEGFRIED GUARDIAN OF THE SWORD 
 
 Trumpets 
 
 Tromb. 
 
 t '» . » -e- 
 
 DIE GOTTERDAMMERUNG 
 CURSE OF THE RING 
 
 Act I 
 
 Trumpets ;
 
 TrOmpets 
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 507 
 
 Act II 
 CALL TO THE MARRIAGE 
 
 /7\ 
 
 Act III 
 
 WALHALLA 
 
 
 Jj a t e •■ «P 
 
 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 .■#•■*■ ^ 
 
 p 
 
 
 
 *— 
 
 
 
 
 
 r ' p~ 
 
 
 
 
 ***4 ^J ' VJ/ 
 
 
 v 
 
 Tromb. 
 
 PARSIFAL 
 THE EUCHARIST 
 
 PARSIFAL 
 
 Act I 
 
 Act II
 
 5 o8 
 
 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 Act III 
 
 THE EUCHARIST 
 
 Trumpets 
 in IS flat 
 
 Tromb. 
 
 THE LANCE 
 
 i'^ j.>Hj.JU ^^ 
 
 The number of trumpeters varies in accordance with 
 the importance of the moth that serves as the call, and 
 according to whether it is presented with or without its 
 harmony ; for the last calls of Lohengrin and Gotterdam- 
 merung, which are given with exceptional pomp, there 
 are as many as 24 musicians. 
 
 The " three traditional blows " are not struck. When 
 in obedience to the orders of the herald-trumpeters ever) - 
 one has returned to his seat, darkness follows, bringing 
 with it complete silence. A whole minute passes thus 
 in profound reflection, and then the first sound issues 
 from the orchestra. 
 
 That is dignified, solemn, and majestic, and commands 
 respect. 
 
 We have now ended this study of the Theatre of 
 Bayreuth and its arrangements. I hope that the reader 
 has taken as much interest in reading it as I myself 
 have experienced pleasure in gathering together the 
 materials. 
 
 I have thought it necessary to enter into many details, 
 some of which may seem idle to some people, but not to 
 all ; in mv opinion, nothing is insignificant when we are 
 dealing with an organization that is so wonderfully com- 
 prehensive and complete.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 509 
 
 I have been able to demonstrate bow easy and a 
 able is the short necessary journey, and to describe the 
 courteous and welcome reception one is sure of receiving 
 
 ANTON i- 1 ni.. 1 
 
 from the Bayreuth inhabitants; I have succeeded in 
 broadly sketching the principal periods of the life ot the 
 
 1 Anton Seidl (born in Budapest, May 7, iS<;o), who was invited 
 to conduct Parsifal in Bayreuth in 1X97, ranks among the gn 
 of the Wagnerian conductors, not only because of liin genius and
 
 5 io THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 creator of all these prodigious marvels, a life so troubled 
 and yet led in a straight line, keeping tenaciously and 
 
 scholarship, but because he also possessed the correct Wagnerian 
 traditions_given to him by the composer himself. A pupil of Hans 
 Richter, he became Wagner's musical secretary in 1872, was one of 
 his musical stage-directors for the Festival of the Ring in 1876, and 
 lived at Wahnfried for six years on the most intimate terms with 
 Wagner. Wagner confided to him the task of arranging the greater 
 part of the first vocal score of Parsifal. He conducted the Nibe- 
 lungen Ring in Berlin in 1880, in London in 1881, and introduced 
 this work in Konigsberg, Dantzig, Brussels, Amsterdam, Karlsruhe, 
 Darmstadt, Stuttgart, Hanover, Venice, Bologna, Rome, Turin, 
 Trieste, Budapest, and other European cities, with the greatest suc- 
 cess. In 1885 Mr. Seidl came to New York to become conductor 
 of the Metropolitan Opera House. Under his direction were repre- 
 sented for the first time in America : Die Meistersinger, Jan. 4,1886; 
 Tristan una" Isolde, Dec. 1, 1886 ; Siegfried, Nov. 9, 1887 ; Die 
 Gotterdammeriing, Jan. 25, 1888; and Das Rheingold, Jan. 4, 1889. 
 Mr. Seidl conducted the Wagnerian operas in London in 1897, and 
 was to have conducted two cycles of the Nibelungen Ring at Covent 
 Garden in June, 1898. Almost the last words he ever wrote were 
 the following, which he sent to me on March 26, for this book, in 
 which he took much interest. I quote verbatim : — 
 
 "The Parsifal conductors of 1897 : Anton Seidl, the 1st, 5th, 
 6th, 7th, and 8th performances; Felix Mottl, the 2d, 3d, and 4th 
 performances ; Hermann Levi doesn't conduct any more ; Siegfried 
 Wagner conducted (1897) the second and third cycles of the Nibe- 
 lungen Ring; Hans Richter conducted only the first cycle of The 
 Ring of the Nibelungen (1897). The list in 1897 of Parsifal : 
 Amforfas, Carl Perron; Titurel, Wilhelm Fenten ; Gurnemanz, 
 Carl Grengg and Carl Wachter; Parsifal, Van Dyck and Gaining •, 
 Klingsor, Fritz Plank; Kundry, Marie Brema and Miss Mil- 
 denburg." 
 
 In 1890 Anton Seidl became conductor of the New York Phil- 
 harmonic Society and held this post at the time of his greatly de- 
 plored death, which occurred suddenly in New York on March 28, 
 1898. Although Seidl's fame will rest chiefly on his Wagnerian 
 work, it is only just to the memory of this exceptionally great mu- 
 sician to say that his interpretations of Bach and Beethoven would 
 alone have placed him among the greatest conductors the world has 
 ever produced. His insight into the score, his loyalty to the com- 
 po 1 r, his repose, and his peculiar magnetic temperament, which 
 communicated itself alike to the orchestra and to the audience, 
 made him unique among orchestral leaders. — E. S.
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 511 
 
 unswervingly towards the unique goal he finally attained ; 
 I have been able to furnish a twofold analysis which 
 seems to me capable of serving as a guide to the neo- 
 phyte and facilitating his comprehension of the pure 
 Wagnerian style, at least when he hears it for the first 
 time ; I have, moreover, been able to make the reader 
 acquainted with the details of the inner mechanism of 
 the Festival-Theatre and its Model Performances, in 
 which everything is combined at once by art and knowl- 
 edge to minister to the delight of the ear, the eye, and 
 the intellect ; but what I must despair of expressing, be- 
 cause it is inexpressible, is the profound and lasting emo- 
 tion which springs from the entire surroundings of an 
 interpretation thus conceived and prepared. We may 
 hear Wagner everywhere else under apparently satisfac- 
 tory conditions with some of the same interpreters, or 
 even with interpreters who are superior, if you will; but 
 nowhere else do we live the lives of the characters of 
 the drama or identify ourselves with them in the same 
 manner, nowhere else are we bound as by a spell — and 
 what a sweet spell ! — by the dramatic and musical action. 
 
 He who has had the privilege of hearing and enjoying 
 a fine Bayreuth performance of Parsifal, the Tetralogy, 
 or Die Meistersinger departs with the delightful sensation 
 of having been morally elevated. 
 
 For lack of means of comparison there is only one 
 way to form any idea of this salutary and quasi-magnetic 
 fascination, and that is to pav a personal visit to Bay- 
 reuth ; no description, however ardent and enthusiastic, 
 can take the place of the journey. 
 
 " He who would understand the poet must visit the country 
 of the poet." We can thoroughlv understand Wagner 
 onlv by going to Bayreuth, just as we can understand 
 Raphael only by visiting the museums of Italy.
 
 TRISTAN UND ISOLDE 
 In 1886, 1889, 1891, and 1891 
 
 I ■ [,, MouL 
 C«rl Mlick. 
 
 Porges. 
 ingaertner. 
 
 I 
 
 Wirrh 
 \C. Harder. 
 
 lOUo Gteseker. 
 Eng. Humpcrdinck. 
 
 ■ 
 
 1 ; 
 I Arthur Smolian. 
 Vkii haid Strauss. 
 
 mbruster. 
 Albert Gorter. 
 
 ling. Minn 
 Otto Lobse. 
 Oscar Merz. 
 
 ■ 
 
 Carl rVrmbi 
 
 master). 
 
 U.,x Shilling. 
 
 v. tgaw. 
 
 I Heinr. Wiegand 
 Friiz Plank. 
 
 Mclot 
 
 A shepherd 
 
 nliuhlcr. 
 
 i Hilper. 
 ) Kelferer. 
 
 ( The'rese Malten. 
 
 A. Orupp. 
 W. Guggenllihlei 
 t A. DippeL 
 
 W Gerhartx. 
 
 Rosa Sucher. 
 
 A. Grupp. 
 
 , nliuhlcr. 
 
 Heinr. Scheuten. 
 Rosa Sucher. 
 
 Helm Zeller. 
 
 1 
 
 < teorg Htipeden. 
 Rosa Sucher.
 
 
 DIE MEISTERSINGER 
 
 
 
 In 1S8S, i 
 
 89, and 1892. 
 
 
 
 1888 
 
 1889 
 
 1892 
 
 Conductors : 
 
 Hans Richter. 
 Felix Motll. 
 
 Hermann Levi. 
 Felix Mottl. 
 
 Julius Kniese 
 
 Hermann Levi. 
 
 
 
 Hans Richter. 
 
 Felix Mottl. 
 Carl Miick, 
 Hans Richter. 
 
 Chorus-masters: Julius Kniese. 
 
 Julius Kniese. 
 Heinrich Porges. 
 
 
 
 Ileinrich Porges. 
 
 Carl Armbruster. 
 
 Carl Armbruster (riirectc 
 
 
 Carl Franck. 
 
 Otto Gieseker. 
 
 of music on the stage] 
 
 
 C. Armbruster. 
 
 Eng. Humperdinck. 
 
 Kurt. H6sel 
 
 Rehearsers 
 
 E. Ilumperdinck. 
 
 Oscar Merz. 
 
 Eng. Humpenlirick. 
 
 Bopp. 
 
 Hugo Rohr. 
 
 Oscar Merz. 
 
 on the stage : 
 
 '.(scar Merz. 
 
 Heinrich Schwartz. 
 
 Carl Pohlig. 
 
 
 Anln.it Smolian. 
 
 Heinrich Porees (chnru 
 
 
 Max Schlosser. 
 
 Richard Strauss. 
 
 mas.er). 
 
 
 Alfred Steinmann. 
 
 
 Max Schilling. 
 
 
 Kienzl. 
 
 
 Siegfried Wagner. 
 
 
 Fritz Plank. 
 
 Franz Betz. 
 
 Eugen Gura. 
 
 Hans Sachs. 
 
 Tlieodor Reichmann. 
 
 Eugen Gura. 
 
 Fritz Plank. 
 
 
 Carl Si heidemantel. 
 
 Theodor Reichmann. 
 
 
 Veit Pogner- 
 
 C. Gillmeister. 
 H. Wiegand. 
 
 Heinrich Wiegand. 
 
 Moritz Frauscher. 
 
 Sextiis Beckmesser. 
 
 F. Friedrichs. 
 B. Kiirner. 
 
 F. Friedrichs. 
 
 Emil Miiller. 
 Carl Nebe. 
 
 Fritz Kothner. 
 
 Eniil Hettsladt. 
 Osc. Schneider. 
 
 Ernst Wehrle. 
 
 Hermann Bachmann. 
 
 Walter von Stolzdng. 
 
 Heinr. Gudehus. 
 
 Heinr. Gudehus. 
 
 Georg Ant lies. 
 
 David. 
 
 C. Hedmondt. 
 
 Seb. Hofmuller. 
 
 Max Krausse. 
 
 s Hofmuller. 
 
 
 Fritz Schrbdter. 
 
 Vogelsang. 
 
 Otto Prelinger. 
 
 Franz Denninger. 
 
 Gerhard Pikanescr. 
 
 Nachtigall 
 
 W. Gerhartz. 
 
 W. Gerhartz. 
 
 Theodor Bertram. 
 
 Zorn. 
 
 A. Grupp. 
 
 A. Grupp. 
 
 A. Grupp. 
 
 Eialinger. 
 
 J. Demuth. 
 
 A. Dippel. 
 
 F. Palm. 
 
 Moaer. 
 
 \V. Guggenbiihler. 
 
 W. Guggenbiihler. 
 
 M. Moscow. 
 
 OrteL 
 
 Eugen Gebrath. 
 
 Eugen Gebrath. 
 
 Carl Bucha. 
 
 Schwartz. 
 
 Max Hal per. 
 
 Heinrich Hobbing. 
 
 Oscar Schlemmer. 
 
 FoltE. 
 
 Carl Selzburg. 
 
 Carl Selzburg. 
 
 Adalbert Krahmer. 
 
 A night-watchman. 
 
 F. Ludwig. 
 
 F. Ludwig. 
 
 Peter Ludwig. 
 
 ^_ ( 
 
 Kattii Hettaque. 
 
 Lilli Dressier. 
 
 Alexandra Mitschiner. 
 
 Eva. 
 
 I'll- rev,, Malten. 
 Rosa Sucher. 
 
 Louise Reuss-Belce. 
 
 Luise Mulder. 
 
 Magdalene. 
 
 Gisela Staudigl. 
 
 Gisela Staudigl. 
 
 Gisela Staudigl. 
 
 
 Chorus of 56 men 
 
 Chorus of 55 men 
 
 Chorus of 61 men 
 
 
 and 41 women. 
 
 and 41 women. 
 
 and 43 women.
 
 PARSIFAL 
 In 1881, 1883, 1884, 1886, 1888, 188; 
 
 O 
 
 
 1883 
 
 1883 
 
 1884 
 
 1886 
 
 1888 
 
 :88 9 
 
 1891 
 
 189a 
 
 1894 
 
 
 | Hermann Levi. 
 j Franz Fischer. 
 
 j Hermann Levi. 
 
 Hermann Levi 
 
 I Hermann Levi. 
 
 Felix MottL 
 
 1 Hermann Levi. 
 
 Hermann Levi. j 
 
 Hermann Levi. 
 
 Hermann Levi, 
 
 Conductors: 
 
 1 Fran* Pitcher. 
 
 Franz Fischer. 
 
 1 helix Motll. 
 
 
 | Fclu MottL 
 
 Felix Mottl. 
 
 Felix Mottl. 
 
 Fein MottL 
 
 Chorus- 
 
 Ma mrrn: 
 
 
 
 
 
 Julius Knicse. 
 
 i Julius Kniese. 
 | II Porges. 
 
 Julius Kniese. 
 H. Porges. 
 
 
 
 
 Mulius Knicae. 
 
 MI Porgea. 
 
 1 ; 
 
 J. Knieoe. 
 
 / H. Porges. 
 
 H. Porges. 
 
 /C. Armbruster. 
 
 C. Aimlirusler. 
 
 Amibruster (director of the 
 
 Armbruster. 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 II. Purges. 
 
 
 C. Franck. 
 
 Otto Gieseler. 
 
 A. Gorter. 
 
 music on the stage). 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 Oscar Merz. 
 
 F. Weingaertner. 
 
 C. Armbruster. 
 
 Eng. lluiniierdinck. 
 
 n])crdinck. 
 
 Kurt Hdsel 
 
 iK.ar ]Unger. 
 
 
 1.1.' Humpi rdini It, 
 
 
 Eng. Humperdinck. 
 
 C. Franck. 
 
 
 Eng Humperdinck, 
 
 1 0. Merz. 
 
 Otto Lohse. 
 
 Eng. Humperdinck. 
 
 Fr. Mikoren. 
 
 
 
 11 1 Men. 
 
 
 | Hugo Kohr. 
 1 H. Schwartz. 
 
 O. Merz. 
 
 C. Pohlig. 
 
 
 1 itio i Hi bei 
 
 Franz Thorns. 
 
 Otto Ilicbcr. 
 
 A. Gorier. 
 
 O. Merz. 
 
 Paumgartner. 
 
 C! Pohlig. 
 
 ' 
 
 managers : 
 
 
 
 Stich. 
 
 Wirth. 
 
 Singer. 
 Schlosser. 
 
 1 Art. Smotian. 
 
 Hugo Rohr. 
 
 
 : 
 
 1 ■ 
 
 Franz Thorns. 
 
 \C. H.ijder. 
 
 W<ich. Strauss. 
 
 Hans Steiner. 
 
 chorus of Flower-Maidens. 
 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 
 A. Gorter. 
 
 
 Stelnmann. 
 
 
 Rich. Strauss. 
 
 Max Schilling, 
 Siegf. Wagner. 
 
 
 
 Relchmann 
 
 Keichmann. 
 
 Keichmann. 
 
 E. Gura. 
 
 Keichmann. 
 
 i Carl Perron. 
 
 Reich mann. 
 
 J. Kaschmann. 
 
 Kaschmann. 
 
 Amforbu. 
 
 
 
 
 Keichmann. 
 
 Scheidemantel. 
 
 | Keichmann. 
 
 Scheidemantel. 
 
 Scheidemantel. 
 
 Keichmann.' 
 Takatz. 
 
 TitureL 
 
 KJndermann. 
 
 Fuchs. 
 
 Fuchs. 
 
 Schneider. 
 
 Heinr-Hobbing. 
 Schneider. 
 
 Lievermann, 
 
 C. Bucha. 
 Fr. Schlosser. 
 
 C. Bucha. 
 
 Bucha. 
 
 Wi In, F,, .t-.it 
 
 _ 
 
 Si .nia. 
 
 ( S.iria. 
 
 Scaria. 
 
 1 siehr. 
 
 Gillmeister. 
 
 ; E. BlauwaerL 
 
 Carl Grengg. 
 
 Moritz Frauscher. 
 
 Cart Grengg. 
 
 Oumemiint 
 
 Siclir. 
 
 \ Siehr. 
 
 Siehr. 
 
 1 Wiegand. 
 
 Wiegand. 
 
 Siehr. 
 
 ; Wiegand. 
 Van Dyck. 
 
 Wiegand. 
 
 Carl Grengg. 
 
 Max Mosel. 
 
 
 Gudchua. 
 
 
 Gudehus. 
 
 Gudehus. 
 
 Ernst van 1 lyck. 
 
 Van Dyck. 
 
 Van Dyck. | 
 
 
 Farmfal. 
 
 Winkelmann. 
 
 1 Winkelmann. 
 
 Winkelmann. 
 
 Ileinr. Vogl. 
 Winkelmann. 
 
 Ferd. Jager. 
 
 
 Gi uning. 
 
 Gru„,„, 
 
 Van Dyck. 
 
 Cruning. 
 
 Plank. 
 
 KlitiKitor 
 
 Hill 
 
 Pegela. 
 
 Plank. 
 
 Plank. 
 
 Plank. 
 
 1 Anton Fuchs. 
 
 Liepe. J 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Scheidemantel. 
 
 Scheidemantel. 
 
 1 Lievermann. 
 
 Plank. " 
 
 1 3 
 
 Popovici. 
 
 1st Knight 
 
 Fuchs. 
 
 Fuchs. 
 
 K-llcrer. 
 
 A. Grupp, 
 
 A. Grupp. 
 
 A. Grupp. 
 
 A. Grupp. 
 
 GerMuser. 
 
 Gerhauser. 
 
 2d Knight 
 
 Stumpf. 
 
 Siumpf. 
 
 Wieden. 
 
 Schneider. 
 
 Wieden. 
 
 Wieden. 
 
 C. Bucha. 
 
 C. Bocha, 
 
 C. Bucha. 
 
 3d Enquire 
 
 Hubbenet. 
 
 Hubbenet 
 
 Hubbenet. 
 
 Forest. 
 
 Hofm idler. 
 
 Dippel. 
 Hofmuller. 
 
 Zeller. 
 
 Mux Wandren. 
 
 Scheuten. 
 
 4th Enquire 
 
 Mikorey. 
 
 Mikorey. 
 
 Mikorey. 
 
 Guggenbiihler. 
 
 Guggenbiihler. 
 
 Guggenbiihler. 
 
 Scheuten. 
 
 Guggenbiihler. 
 
 Hans Breuer. 
 
 lot Esquire. 
 
 KliI. 
 
 Keil. 
 
 Keil. 
 
 Reuss-Belce. 
 
 Kaufe, 
 
 Kaufer. 
 Reuss-Belce. 
 
 Klein. 
 
 Luise Mulder. 
 
 Luise Mulder. 
 
 2d Esquire. 
 
 Galfy. 
 
 Galfy. 
 
 Calfy. 
 
 Sieber. 
 
 FranconL 
 
 Franconi. 
 
 Luise Mulder. 
 
 Franconi. 
 
 Deppe. 
 
 Kuiidry. 1 
 
 ■ 
 
 Materna. j 
 
 Materna. 
 
 Malten. ( 
 
 Malten. 
 
 Malten. ( 
 
 Mailhac. ( 
 
 Mailhac. ( 
 
 Brema. 
 
 1 
 
 M.lllL'll. 
 
 Molten. \ 
 
 Malten. 
 
 Materna. ] 
 
 Maltema. 
 
 Materna. 
 
 Malten. 
 
 Malten. I 
 
 Malten. 
 
 
 
 
 
 Sucher. ( 
 
 Sm ber. 
 
 V 
 
 Materna. ( 
 
 Mohor-Ravenstein. ( 
 
 Sucher. 
 
 
 Hot son. 
 
 1 
 
 Her tog. 
 
 Ftitsch. 
 
 Itettaque. 
 
 fBorchers. 1 
 
 de Anna. 1 
 
 Ilamvig. r 
 
 dc Anna. 
 
 
 U< ti 
 
 
 Mere. 
 
 
 Dietrich. 
 
 Lilli I'ressler. 
 
 Hedinger. 
 
 Hedinger. 
 
 Deppe. 
 
 Plowor- 
 
 Keil. 
 
 M ,1 ■ n. 
 
 ilorson. 
 
 Hedinger. 
 
 Ftitsch. 
 
 Frltsch. 
 
 Herzog. I 
 
 Milschiner. 
 
 Holldobler. 
 
 M uii limn : 
 
 Andre. 
 
 1 
 
 Keil. 
 
 
 Hedinger. 
 
 Hedinger. 
 
 Klein. 1 
 
 Mulder. 
 
 
 
 Belce, 
 
 Galfy. 
 
 lalfy. 
 
 Reuss-Belce. 
 
 
 Kaufer. 
 
 Stolzenberg. 
 
 Pfund. 
 
 Mulder. 
 
 
 Galfy. 
 
 1 Belce. 1 
 
 Belce. 
 
 Sieber. 
 
 Rigl- 
 
 Reuss-Belce. 1 
 
 Wiborg. 1 
 
 Wiborg. 
 
 /.ernn. 
 
 
 Chorus 
 
 Chorus 
 
 Chorus 
 
 Chorus 
 
 Chorus 
 
 Chorus 
 
 Chorus 
 
 Chorus 
 
 Chorus 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 of 56 men, 
 
 of 55 men, 
 
 of 53 men. 
 
 of 61 men. 
 
 of 65 men, 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 46 women, and 
 
 
 
 
 45 children 
 
 45 children. 
 
 45 children. 
 
 4$ children. 
 
 45 children. 
 
 45 children. 
 
 40 children. 
 
 40 children. 
 
 40 children.
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY 
 
 CATALOGUE OF THE MOST IMPORTANT BOOKS 
 PUBLISHED IN FRENCH ON RICHARD WAGNER 
 
 AND HIS WORK.1 
 
 I head the list with Wagner's own writings. The others arc 
 classified alphabetically according to authors. The asterisk indi- 
 cates those to which I have been most largely indebted. 
 
 R. Wagner. Art et Politique. (Bruxelles. J. Sannes, 1868.) 
 R. Wagner. Lejudaisine dans laMusique. (Bruxelles. J.Sannes, 
 1869.) 
 
 * R. Wagner. L'CEuvre et la Mission de ma Vic, trad, [iippeau. 
 ( Dentil. ) 
 
 * Richard Wagner. Quatre Poemes d'operas (Le Vaisseau Fan- 
 
 tome, Tannhacuser, Lohengrin, Tristan et Iseult) precedes d'une 
 
 lettre sur la musique, avec notice de Charles Nuitter. 
 
 Nouvelle edition. (A. Durand et fils et Calmann-Uvy, (893.J 
 Baudelaire. Richard Wagner et Tannhauser a Paris. (1861.) 
 *Camille Benoit. Richard Wagner, Souvenirs, traduits de I'alle- 
 
 mand. [Charpentier, 1S84.) 
 Camille Benoit. Lcs Motifs typiques des M. litres Chanteurs. 
 
 {Schott ) 
 Leonie BernaRDINI. Richard Wagner. {Marpon et Flamma 
 
 * Louis-Pilate de Brinn' Gaubast et Edmond Barthelemy. 
 
 La Tetralogie de l'Anncau du Nibelung. 1 /■ .'. Dentu, 1894.) 
 *Louis-Pilate de Brinn' Gaubast et Edmond Barthelemy. 
 Les Maitres Chanteurs de Niirnberg. (E. D*ntu, r 
 
 * Houston Stewart Chamber] vin. Le Drame wagn^rien. 1 
 
 Chailley, 1S94.) 
 Comte de Chamb run et Stanislas Legis. Wagner, avec une in- 
 troduction et des notes, illustrations par Jacques Wagrei 
 umes). [Calmann-Uvy, 1S95.) 
 
 1 There is a general catalogue of all the writings published on 
 Wagner, entitled Katalog einer Richard-Wagner-Biblioth 
 schlagebuch in der gesammten Wagner-Litteratur. — 3 vols., Leipzig, 
 
 1886-1891. 
 
 33
 
 5 1 4 THE MUSIC DRAMAS 
 
 Champfleury. Richard Wagner. (1S60.) 
 
 Guy de Charnace. Wagner juge par ses contemporains. \Lachezc 
 
 et C' e , Angers.) 
 Ernest Closson. Siegfried de Richard Wagner. (Bruxelles, 
 
 Sckott frires.) 
 Charles Cotard. Tristan et Isenlt. Essai d'analyse du drame et 
 
 des Leitmotifs. (Fischbacher, 1895.) 
 Theodore Duret. Critique d'Avant-Garde. (1869.) 
 Dwelshauvers. R. Wagner. (Bibliothique Gilon. Verviers, 1889.J 
 Dwelshauvers-Dery. Tannhaeuser et le Tournoi des Chanteurs a 
 
 la Wartbourg. (Fischbacher.) 
 ♦Alfred Ernst. Richard Wagner et le Drame contemporain. 
 
 ( Calmann- Levy ■ ) 
 ♦Alfred Ernst. L'Art de Richard Wagner. {JPlon, Nourrit et C*, 
 
 1893.) i er volume (paru), L'ceuvre poetique; 2 me volume (annonce), 
 
 L'ceuvre musicale. 
 Alfred Ernst et Poiree. Tannh'auser {Duraiid etfils.) 
 Edmond Evenepoel. Le Wagnerisme hors d'Allemagne (Bruxelles 
 
 et la Belgique). (Fischbacher, 1891.) 
 Flat (Paul). Lettres de Bayreuth. 
 Fuchs (M me ). L'Opera et le Drame musical, d'apres l'ceuvre de 
 
 Richard Wagner. (1887.) 
 Gasperini (A. de). La Nouvelle Allemagne musicale: Richard 
 
 Wagner. 
 
 * John Grand-Carteret. Wagner en caricatures. ( La roussc, 1891.) 
 Marcel Hebert. Trois Moments de la pensee de Richard Wagner. 
 
 ( Fisch backer, 1 894 . ) 
 Marcel Hebert. Le Sentiment religieux dans l'ceuvre de Richard 
 
 Wagner. (Fischbacher, 1895.) 
 Edmond Hippeau. Parsifal et l'Opera wagnerien. (Fischbacher. 
 
 1883.) 
 Adolphe Jullien. Mozart et Richard Wagner a l'egard des Fran- 
 
 cais (1881). 
 
 * Adolphe Jullien. Richard Wagner, sa vie et ses ceuvres. (i8'86.) 
 M. K. (Maurice Kufferath). Richard Wagner et la 9 mc symphonie 
 
 de Beethoven. (Schott, 1875.) 
 
 M. Kufferath. Parsifal de Richard Wagner. (1890.) 
 
 M. Kufferath. L'Art de diriger l'orchestre. Richard Wagner et 
 Hans Richter. La Neuvieme Symphonie de Beethoven. (1891.) 
 
 ♦Maurice Kufferath. Le Theatre de R. Wagner. De Tann- 
 haeuser a Parsifal. (Fischbacher, 1891.) 
 
 ♦Maurice Kufferath. Lettres de R. Wagner a Auguste Rceckel. 
 ( Breitkopf et H artel, 1 894. ) 
 
 Paul Lindau. Richard Wagner. (Louis Westhauser, 1885.) 
 
 Chari.es de Lorbac. Richard Wagner. (1861.) 
 
 Catulle Mendes. Richard Wagner. (1886.)
 
 OF RICHARD WAGNER 515 
 
 M'" I'. \in. IK Di M0RSIER. Parsifal ct 1'ide'c dc la Redemption 
 
 (FiscAbacAer, 1893.) 
 Georges Noufflard. Richard Wagner d'apres lui-mfime. (1 
 Jacqi es d'Offoel. L'Anneau du Nibelunget Parsifal, traduction 
 
 en prose rythmee exactement adaptee au texte musical allcmand. 
 
 (FiscAbacAer, 1895.) 
 HlPPOLYTE PrEVOST. I t u 1 1 . Mir Richard Wagner, a propos de 
 
 Rienzi. (1869.) 
 M. de Romain. I'.tudc sur Parsifal. (LacAlze et C e , Angers.) 
 M. de Romain. Musicien-philosophe et Musicien-poete. [Lachize 
 
 et C"; Angers.) 
 Km i! 1: DE SAINT-AUBAN. Vn pelerinage a Bayreuth. (Albert 
 
 Savine, 1892.) 
 Camille Saint-Saens. Harmonie et Melodie. 
 •Edouard Schure. Le Drame musical. (1886.) 
 Georges SERVIERES. Richard Wagner juge en France. [Librairie 
 
 illustrie. ) 
 Albert Soubies et Charles Malherbe. L'CEuvre dramatiquc 
 
 de Richard Wagner. (Fischbacher t 1885.)- - Kpuise. 
 Albert Soubies et Charles Malherbe. Melanges sur Richard 
 
 Wagner. (FiscAbacAer, 1892.) 
 Charles Tardietj. Lettre de Bayreuth. L'Anneau du Nihelung. 
 
 Representations donnees en 1876. (Schott i 1883.) 
 ELIZA WlLLE, nee SLOMAN. Quinze Lettres de Richard Wagner, 
 
 traduites de rallemand par Auguste Slaps. (Bruxelles, veuve Mon- 
 
 110m, 1S94.) 
 Hans de Wolzogen. L'Anneau ties Nibelungen, I'Or du Rhin, la 
 
 Valkyrie, Siegfried, le Crepuscule des Dieux. Guide musical. 
 
 (Paris, Delagrave.) 
 * La Revue wagnERIENNE. i re annee, du S fevrier 1885 au8 Jan- 
 vier 1886; 2 e annee, du 8 fevrier 1S86 au 15 Janvier 1887 (tres rare.) 
 
 University Press : John Wilson & Boo, Cambridge, I'.S.A.
 
 University of California 
 
 SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 305 De Neve Drive - Parking Lot 17 • Box 951388 
 
 LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA 90095-1388 
 
 Return this material to the library from which it was borrowed.
 
 L 005 829 700 3 
 
 .^.SOU jHERN R EG |0N AL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 • ■ II III I Mil 
 AA 000 844 414 3 
 
 RENTANOS, 
 ellers & Stationers, 
 renue de I'Opera, 
 Paris.