All this, however, is the mere child's play of theme work. The more
complex characters, instead of having a simple musical label attached
to them, have their characteristic ideas and aspirations identified with
special representative themes as they come into play in the drama; and
the chief merit of the thematic structure of The Ring is the mastery
with which the dramatic play of the ideas is reflected in the
contrapuntal play of the themes. We do not find Wotan, like the dragon
or the horse, or, for the matter of that, like the stage demon in
Weber's Freischutz or Meyerbeer's Robert the Devil, with one fixed theme
attached to him like a name plate to an umbrella, blaring unaltered
from the orchestra whenever he steps on the stage. Sometimes we have the
Valhalla theme used to express the greatness of the gods as an idea of
Wotan's. Again, we have his spear, the symbol of his power, identified
with another theme, on which Wagner finally exercises his favorite
device by making it break and fail, cut through, as it were, by the
tearing sound of the theme identified with the sword, when Siegfried
shivers the spear with the stroke of Nothung. Yet another theme
connected with Wotan is the Wanderer music which breaks with such a
majestic reassurance on the nightmare terror of Mimmy when Wotan appears
at the mouth of his cave in the scene of the three riddles. Thus not
only are there several Wotan themes, but each varies in its inflexions
and shades of tone color according to its dramatic circumstances. So,
too, the merry ham tune of the young Siegfried changes its measure,
loads itself with massive harmonies, and becomes an exordium of the most
imposing splendor when it heralds his entry as full-fledged hero in the
prologue to Night Falls On The Gods. Even Mimmy has his two or three
themes: the weird one already described; the little one in triple
measure imitating the tap of his hammer, and fiercely mocked in the
savage laugh of Alberic at his death; and finally the crooning tune in
which he details all his motherly kindnesses to the little foundling
Siegfried. Besides this there are all manner of little musical blinkings
and shamblings and whinings, the least hint of which from the orchestra
at any moment instantly brings Mimmy to mind, whether he is on the stage
at the time or not.
In truth, dramatic characterization in music cannot be carried very far
by the use of representative themes. Mozart, the greatest of all masters
of this art, never dreamt of employing them; and, extensively as they
are used in The Ring, they do not enable Wagner to dispense with the
Mozartian method. Apart from the themes, Siegfried and Mimmy are still
as sharply distinguished from one another by the character of their
music as Don Giovanni from Leporello, Wotan from Gutrune as Sarastro
from Papagena. It is true that the themes attached to the characters
have the same musical appropriateness as the rest of the music: for
example, neither the Valhalla nor the spear themes could, without the
most ludicrous incongruity, be used for the forest bird or the unstable,
delusive Loki; but for all that the musical characterization must
be regarded as independent of the specific themes, since the entire
elimination of the thematic system from the score would leave the
characters as well distinguished musically as they are at present.
One more illustration of the way in which the thematic system is worked.
There are two themes connected with Loki. One is a rapid, sinuous,
twisting, shifty semiquaver figure suggested by the unsubstantial,
elusive logic-spinning of the clever one's braincraft. The other is the
fire theme. In the first act of Siegfried, Mimmy makes his unavailing
attempt to explain fear to Siegfried. With the horror fresh upon him of
the sort of nightmare into which he has fallen after the departure
of the Wanderer, and which has taken the form, at once fanciful and
symbolic, of a delirious dread of light, he asks Siegfried whether he
has never, whilst wandering in the forest, had his heart set hammering
in frantic dread by the mysterious lights of the gloaming. To this,
Siegfried, greatly astonished, replies that on such occasions his heart
is altogether healthy and his sensations perfectly normal. Here Mimmy's
question is accompanied by the tremulous sounding of the fire theme with
its harmonies most oppressively disturbed and troubled; whereas with
Siegfried's reply they become quite clear and straightforward, making
the theme sound bold, brilliant, and serene. This is a typical instance
of the way in which the themes are used.
The thematic system gives symphonic interest, reasonableness, and unity
to the music, enabling the composer to exhaust every aspect and quality
of his melodic material, and, in Beethoven's manner, to work miracles
of beauty, expression and significance with the briefest phrases. As a
set-off against this, it has led Wagner to indulge in repetitions that
would be intolerable in a purely dramatic work. Almost the first thing
that a dramatist has to learn in constructing a play is that the persons
must not come on the stage in the second act and tell one another at
great length what the audience has already seen pass before its eyes
in the first act. The extent to which Wagner has been seduced into
violating this rule by his affection for his themes is startling to
a practiced playwright. Siegfried inherits from Wotan a mania for
autobiography which leads him to inflict on every one he meets the
story of Mimmy and the dragon, although the audience have spent a whole
evening witnessing the events he is narrating. Hagen tells the story
to Gunther; and that same night Alberic's ghost tells it over again to
Hagen, who knows it already as well as the audience. Siegfried tells
the Rhine maidens as much of it as they will listen to, and then keeps
telling it to his hunting companions until they kill him. Wotan's
autobiography on the second evening becomes his biography in the mouths
of the Norns on the fourth. The little that the Norns add to it is
repeated an hour later by Valtrauta. How far all this repetition is
tolerable is a matter of individual taste. A good story will bear
repetition; and if it has woven into it such pretty tunes as the Rhine
maidens' yodel, Mimmy's tinkling anvil beat, the note of the forest
bird, the call of Siegfried's horn, and so on, it will bear a good deal
of rehearing. Those who have but newly learnt their way through The Ring
will not readily admit that there is a bar too much repetition.
But how if you find some anti-Wagnerite raising the question whether the
thematic system does not enable the composer to produce a music drama
with much less musical fertility than was required from his predecessors
for the composition of operas under the old system!
Such discussions are not within the scope of this little book. But as
the book is now finished (for really nothing more need be said about
The Ring), I am quite willing to add a few pages of ordinary musical
criticism, partly to please the amateurs who enjoy that sort of reading,
and partly for the guidance of those who wish to obtain some hints to
help them through such critical small talk about Wagner and Bayreuth as
may be forced upon them at the dinner table or between the acts.