as a concert number. It begins with the pilgrim's song, which, as it
dies away, is succeeded by the seductive spells of the Venusberg and
the voices of the sirens calling to Tannhäuser. As the whirring sounds
grow fainter and fainter, the pilgrim's song is again heard gradually
approaching, and at last closing the overture in a joyous burst of
harmony. The first act opens with the scene in the Venusberg,
accompanied by the Bacchanale music, which was written in Paris by
Wagner after the opera was finished and had been performed. It is now
known as "the Parisian Bacchanale." It is followed by a voluptuous
scene between Tannhäuser and Venus, a long dialogue, during which the
hero, seizing his harp, trolls out a song ("Doch sterblich, ach!"),
the theme of which has already been given out by the overture,
expressing his weariness of her companionship. The second scene
transports us to a valley, above which towers the castle of Wartburg.
A young shepherd, perched upon a rock, sings a pastoral invocation to
Holda ("Frau Holda kam aus dem Berg hervor"), the strains of his pipe
(an oboe obligato) weaving about the stately chorus of the elder
pilgrims ("Zu dir wall' ich, mein Herr und Gott") as they come along
the mountain paths from the castle. The scene, which is one of great
beauty, closes with the lament of Tannhäuser ("Ach! schwer drückt mich
der Sünden Last"), intermingled with the receding song of the
pilgrims, the ringing of church-bells in the distance, and the merry
notes of hunters' horns as the Landgrave and his followers approach.
The meeting with Tannhäuser leads to an expressive septet, in which
Wolfram has a very impressive solo ("Als du in kühnem Sange").
The second act opens in the singers' hall of the Wartburg. Elizabeth,
entering joyfully, greets it in a recitation ("Froh grüss ich dich,
geliebter Raum"), if we may so term it, which is characterized by a
joyous but dignified dramatic appeal, recalling the scenes of her
youth. The interview between Tannhäuser and Elizabeth, which follows,
gives rise to a long dialogue, closing with a union of the two voices
in the charming duet, "Gepriesen sei die Macht." Then follows the
grand march and chorus, "Freudig begrüssen wir die edle Halle,"
announcing the beginning of the song contest. The stirring rhythm and
bold, broad outlines of this march are so well known that it is
needless to dwell upon it. The scene of the contest is declamatory
throughout, and full of animation and spirit; its most salient points
being the hymn of Wolfram ("O Himmel lasst dich jetzt erflehen") in
honor of ideal love, and Elizabeth's appeal to the knights to spare
Tannhäuser ("Zurück von ihm"), which leads up to a spirited septet and
choral ensemble closing the act.
In the third act we are once more in the valley of the Wartburg. After
a plaintive song by Wolfram ("Wohl wusst ich hier sie im Gebet zu
finden"), the chorus of the returning pilgrims is heard in the
distance, working up to a magnificent crescendo as they approach and
cross the stage. Elizabeth, who has been earnestly watching them to
find if Tannhäuser be of their number, disappointed, sinks upon her
knees and sings the touching prayer, "Allmächt'ge Jungfrau, hör mein
Flehen." As she leaves the scene, Wolfram takes his harp and sings the
enchanting fantasy to the evening star, "O, du mein holder
Abendstern,"--a love-song to the saintly Elizabeth. Tannhäuser makes
his appearance. A long declamatory dialogue ensues between himself and
Wolfram, in which he recites the story of his pilgrimage. The scene is
one of extraordinary power, and calls for the highest vocal and
dramatic qualities in order to make it effective. From this point on,
the tragedy hastens. There is the struggle once more with the sirens,
and amid Wolfram's touching appeals and Tannhäuser's exclamations is
heard the enticement of the Venus music. But at the name "Elizabeth"
it dies away. The mists grow denser as the magic crew disappears, and
through them is seen a light upon the Wartburg. The tolling of bells
and the songs of mourners are heard as the cortége approaches. As
Tannhäuser dies, the pilgrims' chorus again rises in ecstasy, closing
with a mighty shout of "Hallelujah!" and the curtain falls.
LOHENGRIN.
"Lohengrin," a romantic opera in three acts, words by the composer,
was first produced at Weimar, Aug. 28, 1850, the anniversary of
Goethe's birthday, under the direction of Franz Liszt, and with the
following cast of the leading parts:--
LOHENGRIN Herr BECK.
TELRAMUND Herr MILDE.
KING Herr HOFER.
ELSA Frau AGATHE.
ORTRUD Fraülein FASTLINGER.
"Lohengrin" was begun in Paris, and finished in Switzerland during the
period in which Wagner was director of the musical society as well as
of the orchestra at the city theatre of Zurich, whither he had fled to
escape the penalties for taking part in the political agitations and
subsequent insurrection of 1849. Though it manifests a still further
advancement in the development of his system, it was far from being
composed according to the abstract rules he had laid down. He says
explicitly on this point, in his "Music of the Future:" "The first
three of these poems--'The Flying Dutchman,' 'Tannhäuser,' and
'Lohengrin'--were written by me, their music composed, and all (with
the exception of 'Lohengrin') performed upon the stage, before the
composition of my theoretical writings."
The story of Lohengrin, the son of Parsifal, upon which Wagner has
based his drama, is taken from many sources, the old Celtic legend of
King Arthur, his knights, and the Holy Grail being mixed with the
distinctively German legend of a knight who arrives in his boat drawn
by a swan. The version used by Wagner is supposed to be told by
Wolfram von Eschenbach, the Minnesinger, at one of the Wartburg
contests, and is in substance as follows: Henry I., King of Germany,
known as "the Fowler," arrives at Antwerp for the purpose of raising a
force to help him expel the Hungarians, who are threatening his
dominions. He finds Brabant in a condition of anarchy. Gottfried, the
young son of the late Duke, has mysteriously disappeared, and
Telramund, the husband of Ortrud, daughter of the Prince of Friesland,
claims the dukedom. The claimant openly charges Elsa, sister of
Gottfried, with having murdered him to obtain the sovereignty, and she
is summoned before the King to submit her cause to the ordeal of
battle between Telramund and any knight whom she may name. She
describes a champion whom she has seen in a vision, and conjures him
to appear in her behalf. After a triple summons by the heralds, he is
seen approaching on the Scheldt, in a boat drawn by a swan. Before the
combat Lohengrin betroths himself to Elsa, naming only the condition
that she shall never question him as to his name or race. She assents,
and the combat results in Telramund's defeat and public disgrace.
In the second act occur the bridal ceremonies, prior to which, moved
by Ortrud's entreaties, Elsa promises to obtain a reprieve for
Telramund from the sentence which has been pronounced against him. At
the same time Ortrud takes advantage of her success to instil doubts
into Elsa's mind as to her future happiness and the faithfulness of
Lohengrin.
In the next scene, as the bridal cortége is about to enter the
minster, Ortrud claims the right of precedence by virtue of her rank,
and Telramund publicly accuses Lohengrin of sorcery. The faith of
Elsa, however, is not shaken. The two conspirators are ordered to
stand aside, the train enters the church, and Elsa and Lohengrin are
united.
The third act opens in the bridal chamber. The seeds of curiosity and
distrust which Ortrud has sown in Elsa's mind have ripened, and in
spite of her conviction that it will end her happiness, she questions
Lohengrin with increasing vehemence, at last openly demanding to know
his secret. At this juncture Telramund breaks into the apartment with
four followers, intending to take the life of Lohengrin. A single blow
of the knight's sword stretches him lifeless. He then places Elsa in
the charge of her ladies and orders them to take her to the presence
of the King, whither he also repairs. Compelled by his wife's
unfortunate rashness, he discloses himself as the son of Parsifal,
Knight of the Holy Grail, and announces that he must now return to its
guardianship. His swan once more appears, and as he steps into the
boat he bids Elsa an eternal farewell. Before he sails away, however,
Ortrud declares to the wondering crowd that the swan is Elsa's
brother, who has been bewitched by herself into this form, and would
have been released but for Elsa's curiosity. Lohengrin at once
disenchants the swan, and Gottfried appears and rushes into his
sister's arms. A white dove flies through the air and takes the place
of the swan, and Lohengrin sails away as Elsa dies in the embrace of
her newly found brother.
The Vorspiel, or prelude, to the opera takes for its subject the
descent of the Holy Grail, the mysterious symbol of the Christian
faith, and the Grail motive is the key to the whole work. The
delicious harmonies which accompany its descent increase in warmth and
power until the sacred mystery is revealed to human eyes, and then die
away to a pianissimo, and gradually disappear as the angels bearing
the holy vessel return to their celestial abode. The curtain rises
upon a meadow on the banks of the Scheldt, showing King Henry
surrounded by his vassals and retainers. After their choral
declaration of allegiance, Telramund, in a long declamatory scena of
great power ("Zum Sterben kam der Herzog von Brabant"), tells the
story of the troubles in Brabant, and impeaches Elsa. At the King's
command, Elsa appears, and in a melodious utterance of extreme
simplicity and sweetness, which is called the dream motive ("Einsam in
trüben Tagen"), relates the vision of the knight who is to come to her
assistance. The summons of the heralds preludes the climax of the act.
Amid natural outcries of popular wonderment Lohengrin appears, and, as
he leaves his boat, bids farewell to his swan in a strain of delicate
beauty ("Nun sei gedankt, mein lieber Schwan"). The preparations for
the combat are made, but before it begins, the motive of warning is
sounded by Lohengrin ("Nie sollst du mich befragen"). The finale of
the act takes the form of a powerful ensemble, composed of sextet and
chorus, and beginning with the prayer of the King, "Mein Herr und
Gott, nun ruf ich Dich."
The second act opens upon a night scene near the palace, which is
merry with the wedding festivities, while the discomfited Telramund
and Ortrud are plotting their conspiracy without in a long duet
("Erhebe dich, Genossin meiner Schmach"), which introduces new motives
of hatred and revenge, as opposed to the Grail motive. In the second
scene Elsa appears upon the balcony and sings a love-song ("Euch
Lüften, die mein Klagen"), whose tenderness and confidence are in
marked contrast with the doubts sown in her mind by Ortrud before the
scene closes. The third scene is preluded with descriptive sunrise
music by the orchestra, followed by the herald's proclamations,
interspersed by choral responses, leading up to the bridal-procession
music as the train moves on from the palace to the cathedral,
accompanied by a stately march and choral strains, and all the
artistic surroundings of a beautiful stage pageant. The progress is
twice interrupted; first by Ortrud, who asserts her precedence, and
second by Telramund, who, in the scena "Den dort im Glanz," accuses
Lohengrin of sorcery. When Elsa still expresses her faith, the train
moves on, and reaches its destination amid the acclamations of the
chorus ("Heil, Elsa von Brabant!").
The third act opens in the bridal chamber with the graceful bridal
song by Elsa's ladies, "Treulich gefuhrt, ziehet dahin," whose
melodious strains have accompanied many unions, the world over,
besides those of Elsa and Lohengrin. The second scene is an exquisite
picture of the mutual outpouring of love, at first full of beauty and
tenderness, but gradually darkening as Ortrud's insinuations produce
their effect in Elsa's mind. Tenderly Lohengrin appeals to her, but in
vain; and at last the motive of warning is heard. The fatal questions
are asked, the tragedy of Telramund follows, and all is over. The last
scene introduces us once more to the meadow on the Scheldt, where
Lohengrin appears before the King and his vassals. In their presence
he reveals himself as the son of Parsifal, in a scena of consummate
power ("In fernem Land, unnahbar euren Schritten"), wherein the Grail
motive reaches its fullest development. It is followed by his touching
farewell, "O Elsa! nur ein Jahr an deiner Seite," the melody of which
can hardly be surpassed in dignity and impressiveness. The dénouement
now hastens, and Lohengrin disappears, to the accompaniment of the
Grail motive.
TRISTAN UND ISOLDE.
"Tristan und Isolde," an opera in three acts, words by the composer,
was first produced at Munich, June 10, 1865, under the direction of
Hans von Bülow, with the following cast of characters:--
TRISTAN Herr LUDWIG SCHNORR VON CAROLSFELD.
KURWENAL Herr MITTERWURZER.
KING MARK Herr ZOTTMAYER.
ISOLDE Mme. SCHNORR VON CAROLSFELD.
BRANGOENA Mlle. DEINET.
"Tristan and Isolde" was commenced in 1857 and finished in 1859,
during the period in which Wagner was engaged upon his colossal work,
"The Ring of the Nibelung." As early as the middle of 1852 he had
finished the four dramatic poems which comprise the cyclus of the
latter, and during the next three years he finished the music to "Das
Rheingold" and "Die Walküre." In one of his letters he says: "In the
summer of 1857 I determined to interrupt the execution of my work on
the Nibelungen and begin something shorter, which should renew my
connection with the stage." The legend of Tristan was selected. It is
derived from the old Celtic story of "Tristram and Iseult," the
version adopted by Wagner being that of Gottfried of Strasburg, a bard
of the thirteenth century, though it must be said he uses it in his
own manner, and at times widely departs both from the original and the
mediæval poem.
In "Tristan and Isolde" Wagner broke completely loose from all the
conventional forms of opera. It has nothing in common with the old
style of lyric entertainment. As Hueffer says, in his recent Life of
Wagner: "Here is heard for the first time the unimpaired language of
dramatic passion intensified by an uninterrupted flow of expressive
melody. Here also the orchestra obtains that wide range of emotional
expression which enables it, like the chorus of the antique tragedy,
to discharge the dialogue of an overplus of lyrical elements without
weakening the intensity of the situation, which it accompanies like an
unceasing passionate undercurrent." In an opera like this, which is
intended to commingle dramatic action, intensity of verse, and the
power and charm of the music in one homogeneous whole, the reader will
at once observe the difficulty of doing much more than the telling of
its story, leaving the musical declamation and effects to be inferred
from the text. Even Wagner himself in the original title is careful to
designate the work "Ein Handlung" (an action).
The vorspiel to the drama is based upon a single motive, which is
worked up with consummate skill into various melodic forms, and
frequently appears throughout the work. It might well be termed the
motive of restless, irresistible passion. The drama opens on board a
ship in which the Cornish knight, Tristan, is bearing Isolde, the
unwilling Irish bride, to King Mark of Cornwall. As the vessel is
nearing the land, Isolde sends Brangoena to the Knight, who is also in
love with her, but holds himself aloof by reason of a blood-feud, and
orders him to appear at her side. His refusal turns Isolde's affection
to bitterness, and she resolves that he shall die, and that she will
share death with him. She once more calls Tristan, and tells him that
the time has come for him to make atonement for slaying her kinsman,
Morold.
She directs Brangoena to mix a death-potion and invites him to drink
with her, but without her knowledge Brangoena has prepared a
love-potion, which inflames their passions beyond power of restraint.
Oblivious of the landing, the approach of the royal train, and all
that is going on about them, they remain folded in mutual embrace.
The second act opens in Cornwall, in a garden which leads to Isolde's
chamber, she being already wedded to King Mark. With Brangoena she is
waiting for Tristan. The King goes out upon a night hunt, and no
sooner has he disappeared than Isolde gives the signal for his
approach, while Brangoena goes to her station to watch. The second
scene is a most elaborate love-duet between the guilty pair, the two
voices at first joining ("Bist du mein? Hab'ich dich wieder?"). A
passionate dialogue ensues, and then the two voices join again ("O
sink' hernieder, Nacht der Liebe"). After a brief dialogue Brangoena's
warning voice is heard. Absorbed in each other, they pay no heed, and
once more they join in the very ecstasy of passion, so far as it can
be given musical form, in the finale of the duet, "O süsse Nacht!
Ew'ge Nacht! Hehr erhabne Liebes-Nacht." The treachery of Sir Melot,
Tristan's pretended friend, betrays the lovers to the King. Tristan
offers no explanations, but touched by the King's bitter reproaches
provokes Sir Melot to combat and allows himself to be mortally
wounded.
The third act opens in Brittany, whither Kurwenal, Tristan's faithful
henchman, has taken him. A shepherd lad watches from a neighboring
height to announce the appearance of a vessel, for Kurwenal has sent
for Isolde to heal his master's wound. At last the stirring strains of
the shepherd's pipe signal her coming. In his delirious joy Tristan
tears the bandages from his wounds, and has only strength enough left
to call Isolde by name and die in her arms. Now a second vessel is
seen approaching, bearing King Mark and his men. Thinking that his
design is hostile, Kurwenal attempts to defend the castle, but is soon
forced to yield, and dies at the feet of his master. The King exclaims
against his rashness, for since he had heard Brangoena's story of the
love-potion he had come to give his consent to the union of the
lovers. Isolde, transfigured with grief, sings her last farewell to
her lover ("Mild und leise wie er lächelt"), and expires on his body.
The dying song is one of great beauty and pathos, and sadly recalls
the passion of the duet in the second act, as Isolde's mournful
strains are accompanied in the orchestra by the sweetly melodious
motives which had been heard in it, the interweaving of the two also
suggesting that in death the lovers have been reunited.
THE MASTERSINGERS.
"Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg," a comic opera in three acts, words
by the composer, was first produced at Munich, June 21, 1868, under
the direction of Hans von Bülow, with the following cast:
HANS SACHS Herr BETZ.
WALTER Herr NACHBAUER.
BECKMESSER Herr HÖLZEL.
DAVID Herr SCHLOSSER.
EVA Mlle. MALLINGER.
MAGDALENA Mme. DIETZ.
The plan of "The Mastersingers" was conceived about the same time as
that of "Lohengrin," during the composer's stay at Marienbad, and
occupied his attention at intervals for twenty years, as it was not
finished until 1867. As is clearly apparent both from its music and
text, it was intended as a satire upon the composer's critics, who had
charged that he was incapable of writing melody. It is easy to see
that these critics are symbolized by the old pedant Beckmesser, and
that in Walter we have Wagner himself. When he is first brought in
contact with the Mastersingers, and one of their number, Kothner, asks
him if he gained his knowledge in any school, he replies, "The wood
before the Vogelweid', 'twas there I learnt my singing;" and again he
answers:--
"What winter night.
What wood so bright,
What book and nature brought me,
What poet songs of magic might
Mysteriously have taught me,
On horses' tramp,
On field and camp,
On knights arrayed
For war parade
My mind its powers exerted."
The story is not only one of love as between Walter and Eva, but of
satirical protest as between Walter and Beckmesser, and the two
subjects are illustrated not only with delicate fancy but with the
liveliest of humor. The work is replete with melody. It has chorales,
marches, folk-songs, duets, quintets, ensembles, and choruses, and yet
the composer does not lose sight of his theories; for here we observe
as characteristic a use of motives and as skilful a combination of
them as can be found in any of his works. To thoroughly comprehend the
story, it is necessary to understand the conditions one had to fulfil
before he could be a mastersinger. First of all he must master the
"Tabulatur," which included the rules and prohibitions. Then he must
have the requisite acquaintance with the various methods of rhyming
verse, and with the manner of fitting appropriate music to it. One who
had partially mastered the Tabulatur was termed a "scholar;" the one
who had thoroughly learned it, a "schoolman;" the one who could
improvise verses, a "poet;" and the one who could set music to his
verses, a "mastersinger." In the test there were thirty-three faults
to be guarded against; and whenever the marker had chalked up seven
against the candidate, he was declared to have oversung himself and
lost the coveted honor.
The vorspiel is a vivid delineation of mediæval German life, full of
festive pomp, stirring action, glowing passion, and exuberant humor.
The first act opens in the Church of St. Katherine, at Nuremberg, with
the singing of a chorale to organ accompaniment. During the chorale
and its interludes a quiet love-scene is being enacted between Eva,
daughter of the wealthy goldsmith Veit Pogner, and Walter von
Stolzing, a noble young knight. The attraction is mutual. Eva is ready
to become his bride, but it is necessary that her husband should be a
mastersinger. Rather than give up the hand of the fair Eva, Walter,
short as the time is, determines to master the precepts and enter the
lists. As Eva and her attendant, Magdalena, leave the church, the
apprentices enter to arrange for the trial, among them David, the
friskiest of them all, who is in love with Magdalena. He volunteers to
give Walter some instructions, but they do not avail him much in the
end, for the lesson is sadly disturbed by the gibes of the boys, in a
scene full of musical humor. At last Pogner and Beckmesser, the
marker, who is also a competitor for Eva's hand, enter from the
sacristy. After a long dialogue between them the other masters
assemble, Hans Sachs, the cobbler-bard, coming in last. After calling
the roll, the ceremonies open with a pompous address by Pogner ("Das
schöne Fest, Johannis-Tag"), in which he promises the hand of Eva,
"with my gold and goods beside," to the successful singer on the
morrow, which is John the Baptist's Day. After a long parley among the
gossiping masters, Pogner introduces Walter as a candidate for
election. He sings a charming song ("So rief der Lenz in den Wald"),
and as he sings, the marker, concealed behind a screen, is heard
scoring down the faults. When he displays the slate it is found to be
covered with them. The masters declare him outsung and rejected, but
Hans Sachs befriends him, and demands he shall have a chance for the
prize.
The second act discloses Pogner's house and Sachs's shop. The
apprentices are busy putting up the shutters, and are singing as they
work. Walter meets Eva and plots an elopement with her, but Sachs
prevents them from carrying out their rash plan. Meanwhile Beckmesser
makes his appearance with his lute for the purpose of serenading Eva
and rehearsing the song he is to sing for the prize on the morrow. As
he is about to sing, Sachs breaks out into a rollicking folk-song
("Jerum, jerum, halla, halla, he!"), in which he sings of Mother Eve
and the troubles she had after she left Paradise, for want of shoes.
At last he allows Beckmesser a hearing, provided he will permit him to
mark the faults with his hammer upon the shoe he is making. The marker
consents, and sings his song, "Den Tag seh' ich erscheinen,"
accompanied with excruciating roulades of the old-fashioned
conventional sort; but Sachs knocks so often that his shoe is finished
long before Beckmesser's song. This is his first humiliation. Before
the act finishes he is plunged into still further trouble, for David
suspects him of designs upon Magdalena, and a general quarrel ensues.