It was in 1854, when still an exile from his native land, that
Wagner, weary of his long work, 'The Ring of the Niblungs,'
of which only the first two parts were completed, conceived
the idea of using the legend of Tristan as basis for a popular
opera. Three years later the poem was finished, but the opera
was played in Munich only in 1865 for the first time.
The libretto is based on an ancient Celtic myth or legend,
which was very popular during the Middle Ages. It was already
known in the seventh century, but whether it originally came
from Wales or Brittany is a disputed point. It was very widely
known, however, and, thanks to the wandering minstrels, it
was translated into all the Continental idioms, and became
the theme of many poets, even of later times. Since the days
when Godfried of Strasburgh wrote his version of the story it
has been versified by many others, among whom, in our days,
are Matthew Arnold and Swinburne. While the general outline
of these various versions remains the same, the legend has
undergone many transformations, but Wagner has preserved many
of the fundamental ideas of the myth, which is intended to
illustrate the overpowering force of passion. The scene was
originally laid in Ireland, Cornwall, and French Brittany.
Blanchefleur, sister of King Mark of Cornwall, falls in love
with Rivalin, who dies shortly after their union. Withdrawing to
her husband's castle in Brittany, Blanchefleur gives birth to
a child whom she calls Tristan, as he is the child of sorrow,
and, feeling that she cannot live much longer, she intrusts
him to the care of her faithful steward, Kurvenal. When the
young hero has reached the age of fifteen, his guardian takes
him over to Cornwall, where King Mark not only recognises him
as his nephew, but also designates him as his heir.
Tristan has been carefully trained, and is so expert in the
use of his arms that he soon excites the envy of the courtiers,
who are watching for an opportunity to do him harm. The King of
Cornwall, having been defeated in battle by the King of Ireland,
is obliged to pay him a yearly tribute, which is collected
by Morold, a huge giant and a relative of the Irish king.
Morold, coming as usual to collect the tribute money, behaves
so insolently that Tristan resolves to free the country from
thraldom by slaying him. A challenge is given and accepted,
and after a terrible combat, such as the mediæval poets love
to describe with minute care, the giant falls, after wounding
Tristan with his poisoned spear.
The King of Cornwall, instead of sending the wonted tribute to
Ireland, now forwards Morold's head, which is piously preserved
by Ysolde, the Irish princess, who finds in the wound a fragment
of sword by which she hopes to identify the murderer, and avenge
her kinsman's death.
Tristan, finding that the skill of all the Cornwall leeches can
give him no relief, decides to go to Ireland and claim the help
of Ysolde the princess, who, like her mother, is skilled in the
art of healing, and knows the antidote for every poison. Fearing,
however, lest she may seek to avenge Morold's death, he goes
alone, disguised as a harper, and presents himself before her
as Tantris, a wandering minstrel.
His precarious condition touches Ysolde's compassionate heart,
and she soon uses all her medical science to accomplish his
cure, tenderly nursing him back to health. While sitting beside
him one day, she idly draws his sword from the scabbard, and
her sharp eyes perceive that a piece is missing. Comparing
the break in the sword with the fragment in her possession,
she is soon convinced that Morold's murderer is at her mercy,
and she is about to slay her helpless foe when an imploring
glance allays her wrath.
Tristan, having entirely recovered under her care, takes leave
of the fair Ysolde, who has entirely lost her heart to him,
and returns to Cornwall, where he relates his adventures, and
speaks in such glowing terms of Ysolde's beauty and goodness that
the courtiers finally prevail upon the king to sue for her hand.
As the courtiers have tried to make the king believe that his
nephew would fain keep him single lest he should have an heir,
Tristan reluctantly accepts the commission to bear the king's
proposals and escort the bride to Cornwall. Ysolde is of course
overjoyed at his return, for she fancies he reciprocates her
love; but when he makes his errand known, she proudly conceals
her grief, and prepares to accompany the embassy to Cornwall,
taking with her her faithful nurse, Brangeane.
The Queen of Ireland, another Ysolde, well versed in every
magic art, then brews a mighty love potion, which she intrusts
to Brangeane's care, bidding her conceal it in her daughter's
medicine chest, and administer it to the royal bride and groom
on their wedding night, to insure their future happiness by
deep mutual love.
Wagner's opera opens on shipboard, where Ysolde lies sullen and
motionless under a tent, brooding over her sorrow and nursing
her wrath against Tristan, who has further embittered her by
treating her with the utmost reserve, and never once approaching
her during the whole journey. The call of the pilot floats
over the sea, and Ysolde, roused from her abstraction, asks
Brangeane where they are. When she learns that the vessel is
already within sight of Cornwall, where a new love awaits her,
Ysolde gives vent to her despair, and openly regrets that she
does not possess her mother's power over the elements, as she
would gladly conjure a storm which would engulf the vessel and
set her free from a life she abhors.
Brangeane, alarmed at this outburst, vainly tries to comfort her,
and as the vessel draws near the land she obeys Ysolde's command
and goes to summon Tristan into her presence. Approaching the
young hero, who is at the helm, the maid delivers her message,
but Tristan refuses to comply, under pretext of best fulfilling
his trust by steering the vessel safe to land:--
'In every station
Where I stand
I serve with life and blood
The pearl of womanhood:--
If I the rudder
Rashly left,
Who steer'd then safely the ship
To good King Mark's fair land?'
He further feigns to misunderstand the purport of her message,
by assuring her that the discomforts of the journey will
soon be over. Kurvenal, his companion, incensed by Brangeane's
persistency, then makes a taunting speech to the effect that his
master Tristan, the slayer of Morold, is not the vassal of any
queen, and the nurse returns to the tent to report her failure.
Ysolde, however, has overheard Kurvenal's speech, and when she
learns that Tristan refuses to obey her summons, she comments
bitterly upon his lack of gratitude for all her tender care,
and confides to Brangeane how she spared him when he was ill
and at her mercy.
Brangeane vainly tries to make her believe that Tristan has shown
his appreciation by wooing her for the king rather than for
himself, and when Ysolde murmurs against a loveless marriage,
she shows her the magic potion intrusted to her care, which
will insure her becoming a loving and beloved wife.
The sight of the medicine chest in which it is secreted
unfortunately reminds Ysolde that she too knows the secret of
brewing draughts of all kinds, so she prepares a deadly potion,
trying all the while to make Brangeane believe that it is a
perfectly harmless drug, which will merely make her forget the
unhappy past.
While she is thus occupied, Kurvenal suddenly appears to announce
that they are about to land, and to bid her prepare to meet the
king, who has seen their coming and is wending his way down to
the shore to bid her welcome. Ysolde haughtily replies that she
will not stir a step until Tristan proffers an apology for his
rude behaviour and obeys her summons. After conferring together
for a few moments, Tristan and Kurvenal agree that it will be
wiser to appease the irate beauty by yielding to her wishes,
than to have an _esclandre_, and Tristan prepares to appear
before her. Ysolde, in the mean while, has passionately flung
herself into Brangeane's arms, fondly bidding her farewell,
and telling her to have the magic draught she has prepared all
ready to give to Tristan, with whom she means to drink atonement.
While Brangeane, who mistrusts her young mistress, is still
pleading with her to forget the past, Tristan respectfully
approaches the princess, and when she haughtily reproves him
for slighting her commands, he informs her, with much dignity,
that he deemed it his duty to keep his distance:--
'Good breeding taught,
Where I was upbrought,
That he who brings
The bride to her lord
Should stay afar from his trust.'
Ysolde retorts, that, as he is such a rigid observer of
etiquette, it would best behoove him to remember that as yet
he has not even proffered the usual atonement for shedding
the blood of her kin, and that his life is therefore at her
disposal. Tristan, seeing she is bent upon revenge, haughtily
hands her his sword, telling her that, since Morold was so
dear to her, she had better avenge him. Under pretext that King
Mark might resent such treatment of his nephew and ambassador,
Ysolde refuses to take advantage of his defencelessness, and
declares she will consider herself satisfied if he will only
pledge her in the usual cup of atonement, which she motions to
Brangeane to bring.
The bewildered handmaiden hastily pours a drug into the cup. This
she tremblingly brings to her mistress, who, hearing the vessel
grate on the pebbly shore, tells Tristan his loathsome task
will soon be over, and that he will soon be able to relinquish
her to the care of his uncle.
Tristan, suspecting that the contents of the cup are poisonous,
nevertheless calmly takes it from her hand and puts it to his
lips. But ere he has drunk half the potion, Ysolde snatches
it from his grasp and greedily drains the rest. Instead of the
ice-cold chill of death which they both expected, Tristan and
Ysolde suddenly feel the electric tingle of love rushing madly
through all their veins, and, forgetting all else, fall into
each other's arms, exchanging passionate vows of undying love.
Brangeane, the only witness of this scene, views with terror
the effect of her subterfuge, for, fearing lest her mistress
should injure Tristan or herself, she had hastily substituted
the love potion intrusted to her care for the poison Ysolde
had prepared. While the lovers, clasped in each other's arms,
unite in a duet of passionate love, the vessel is made fast
to the shore, where the royal bridegroom is waiting, and it
is only when Brangeane throws the royal mantle over Ysolde's
shoulders, and when Kurvenal bids them step ashore, that the
lovers suddenly realise that their brief dream of love is over.
The sudden revulsion from great joy to overwhelming despair
proves too much for Ysolde's delicate frame, and she sinks
fainting to the deck, just as King Mark appears and the curtain
falls upon the first act.
Several days are supposed to have elapsed, when the second act
begins. Ysolde after her fainting fit has been conveyed to the
king's palace, where she is to dwell alone until her marriage
takes place, and where she forgets everything except the passion
which she feels for Tristan, who now shares all her feelings.
In a hurried private interview the lovers have arranged a
code of signals, and it is agreed that as soon as the light
in Ysolde's window is extinguished her lover will join her as
speedily as possible.
It is a beautiful summer night, and the last echoes of
the hunting horn are dying away on the evening breeze, when
Ysolde turns to Brangeane, and impatiently bids her put out the
light. The terrified nurse refuses to do so, and implores Ysolde
not to summon her lover, declaring that she is sure that Melot,
one of the king's courtiers, noted her pallor and Tristan's
strange embarrassment. In vain she adds that she knows his
suspicions have been aroused, and that he is keeping close watch
over them both to denounce them should they do anything amiss.
Ysolde refuses to believe her.
The princess is so happy that she makes fun of her attendant's
forebodings, and, after praising the tender passion she feels,
she again bids her put out the light. As Brangeane will not
obey this command, Ysolde, too much in love to wait any longer,
finally extinguishes the light with her own hand, and bids her
nurse go up in the watch-tower and keep a sharp lookout.
Ysolde then hastens to the open door, and gazes anxiously out
into the twilighted forest, frantically waving her veil to
hasten the coming of her lover, and runs to meet and embrace
him when at last he appears.
Blissful in each other's company, Tristan and Ysolde now forget
all else, while they exchange passionate vows and declarations
of love, bewailing the length of the days which keep them apart,
and the shortness of the nights during which they can see each
other. In a passionate duet of mutual love and admiration,
they also rejoice that, instead of dying together, as Ysolde
had planned, they are still able to live and love.
Brangeane, posted in the watch-tower above, repeatedly warns them
that they had better part, but her wise advice proves useless,
and it is only when she utters a loud cry of alarm that Tristan
and Ysolde start apart. Simultaneously almost with Brangeane's
cry, Kurvenal rushes upon the scene with drawn sword, imploring
his master to fly; but ere this advice can be followed King
Mark and the traitor Melot appear, closely followed by all
the royal hunting party. Ysolde, overcome with shame at being
thus detected with her lover, sinks fainting to the ground,
while Tristan, wishing to shield her as much as possible from
the scornful glances of these men, stands in front of her with
his mantle outspread. He, too, is overwhelmed with shame,
and silently bows his head when his uncle bitterly reproves him
for betraying him, and robbing him of the bride he had already
learned to love. Even the sentence of banishment pronounced upon
him seems none too severe, and Tristan, almost broken-hearted
at the sight of his uncle's grief, sadly turns to ask Ysolde
whether she will share his lot. Shame and discovery have in no
wise diminished her affection for him, and when she promises to
follow him even to the end of the earth he cannot restrain his
joy, and notwithstanding the king's presence he passionately
clasps her in his arms:
'Wherever Tristan's home may be,
That will Ysolde share with thee:
That she may follow
And to thee hold,
The way now shown to Ysold'!'
Melot, enraged at this sight, rushes upon Tristan with drawn
sword, and wounds him so sorely that he falls back unconscious
in Kurvenal's arms, while Ysolde, clinging to him, faints away
as the curtain falls on the second act.
The third act is played in Tristan's ancestral home in Brittany,
whither he has been conveyed by Kurvenal, who vainly tries to
nurse his wounded master back to health and strength. The sick
man is lying under a great linden tree, in death-like lethargy,
while Kurvenal anxiously watches for the vessel which he trusts
will bring Ysolde from Cornwall. She alone can cure his master's
grievous wound, and her presence only can woo him back from
the grave into which he seems rapidly sinking.
From time to time Kurvenal interrupts his sad watch beside the
pallid sleeper to call to a shepherd piping on the hillside, and
to inquire of him whether he descries any signs of the coming
sail. Slowly and feebly Tristan at last opens his eyes, gazes
dreamily at his attendant and surroundings, and wonderingly
inquires how he came thither. Kurvenal gently tells him that
he bore him away from Cornwall while wounded and unconscious,
and brought him home to recover his health amid the peaceful
scenes of his happy youth; but Tristan sadly declares that life
has lost all its charms since he has parted from Ysolde. In a
sudden return of delirium the wounded hero then fancies he is
again in the forest, watching for the light to go out, until
Kurvenal tells him that Ysolde will soon be here, as he has
sent a ship to Cornwall to bring her safely over the seas.
These tidings fill Tristan's heart with such rapture that
he embraces Kurvenal, thanking him brokenly for his lifelong
devotion, and bidding him climb up into the watch-tower that he
may catch the first glimpse of the coming sail. While Kurvenal
is hesitating whether he shall obey this order and leave his
helpless patient alone, the shepherd joyfully announces the
appearance of the ship. Kurvenal, ascending the tower, reports
to his master how it rounds the point, steers past the dangerous
rocks, touches the shore, and permits Ysolde to land.
Tristan has feverishly listened to all these reports, and bids
Kurvenal hasten down to bring Ysolde to him; then, left alone,
he bursts forth into rapturous praise of the happy day which
brings his beloved to him once more, and of the deep love which
has called him back from the gates of the tomb. His impatience
to see Ysolde soon gets the better of his weakness, however,
and he struggles to rise from his couch, although the exertion
causes his wounds to bleed afresh. Painfully he staggers half
across the stage to meet Ysolde, who appears only in time to
hear his last passionate utterance of her beloved name, and to
catch his dying form in her arms. She does not realise that he
has breathed his last, however, and gently tries to woo him back
to life, and make him open his eyes. But when all her efforts
have failed, and she finds his heart no longer beats beneath her
hand, she reproaches him tenderly for leaving her thus alone,
and sinks unconscious upon his breast. Kurvenal, standing beside
the lovers, speechless with grief, is roused to sudden action
by the shepherd's hurried announcement that a second ship has
arrived, and that King Mark, Melot, and all his train, are about
to appear. Frenzied with grief, and thinking that they have come
once more to injure his master, Kurvenal seizes his sword, and,
springing to the gate, fights desperately until he has slain
Melot, and falls mortally wounded at Tristan's feet.
While the fight is taking place, King Mark and Brangeane,
standing without the castle wall, vainly call to him to stay
his hand, as they have come with friendly intentions only,
and now that he can resist them no longer they all come
rushing in. They are horror-struck at the sight of Tristan
and Ysolde, both apparently dead; but Brangeane, having
discovered that her mistress has only swooned, soon restores
her to consciousness. King Mark hastens to assure Ysolde
that she and Tristan are both forgiven; for Brangeane having
penitently revealed to him the secret of the love potion which
she administered, he realises that they could not but yield to
its might. Ysolde, however, pays no heed to his words, but,
gazing fixedly at Tristan, she mournfully extols his charms
and love, until her heart breaks with grief, and she too sinks
lifeless to the ground. No restoratives can now avail to recall
the life which has flown forever, and King Mark blesses the
corpses of the lovers, and of the faithful servant who has
expired at their feet, as the curtain falls.
[Illustration: WALTHER CROWNED BY EVA.]