drama begins. Strong races of men have come into existence, and
Wotan's Valkyres watch over them, leading those who fall in battle to
Walhalla, where, in the gods' companionship, they are to pass a
glorious life. According to the original legend, Wotan blessed an
unfruitful marriage of this race by giving the pair an apple of Hulda
to eat, and the twins, Siegmund and Sieglinde, were the result of the
union. When the first act opens, Siegmund has already taken a wife and
Sieglinde has married the savage warrior Hunding, but neither marriage
has been fruitful. It is introduced with an orchestral prelude
representing a storm. The pouring of the rain is audible among the
violins and the rumbling of the thunder in the deep basses. The
curtain rises, disclosing the interior of a rude hut, its roof
supported by the branches of an ash-tree whose trunk rises through the
centre of the apartment. As the tempest rages without, Siegmund rushes
in and falls exhausted by the fire. Attracted by the noise, Sieglinde
appears, and observing the fallen stranger bends compassionately over
him and offers him a horn of mead. As their eyes meet they watch each
other with strange interest and growing emotion. While thus mutually
fascinated, Hunding enters and turns an inquiring look upon Sieglinde.
She explains that he is a guest worn out with fatigue and seeking
shelter. Hunding orders a repast and Siegmund tells his story.
Vanquished in combat by a neighboring tribe, some of whose adherents
he had slain, and stripped of his arms, he fled through the storm for
refuge. Hunding promises him hospitality, but challenges him to combat
on the morrow, for the victims of Siegmund's wrath were Hunding's
friends. As Sieglinde retires at Hunding's bidding, she casts a
despairing, passionate look at Siegmund, and tries to direct his
attention to a sword sticking in the ash-tree, but in vain. Hunding
warns her away with a significant look, and then taking his weapons
from the tree leaves Siegmund alone. The latter, sitting by the fire,
falls into dejection, but is soon roused by the thought that his sire
had promised he should find the sword Nothung in his time of direst
need. The dying fire shoots out a sudden flame, and his eye lights
upon its handle, illuminated by the blaze. The magnificent
sword-melody is sounded, and in a scene of great power he hails it and
sings his love for Sieglinde, whom now he can rescue. As the fire and
the song die away together, Sieglinde reappears. She has drugged
Hunding into a deep sleep, and in an exultant song tells Siegmund the
story of the sword. They can be saved if he is strong enough to wrench
it from the trunk of the ash. He recognizes his sister and folds her
passionately in his arms. The storm has passed, and as the moonlight
floods the room he breaks out in one of the loveliest melodies Wagner
has ever written, the spring song ("Winterstürme wichen dem
Wonnemond"), a song of love leading to the delights of spring; and
Sieglinde in passionate response declares, "Thou art the spring for
which I longed in winter's frosty embrace." The recognition is mutual,
not alone of brother and sister but of lover and mistress,--the union
which is destined to beget Siegfried, the hero. Seizing her in his
arms, Siegmund disappears with her into the depths of the forest, and
the curtain falls.
The second act opens in the mountains of the gods, and discloses Wotan
with spear in hand in earnest converse with Brünnhilde, his daughter,
who is arrayed in the armor of a Valkyr. He tells her of the
approaching combat, and bids her award the victory to Siegmund the
Volsung, beloved of the gods. As she disappears among the rocks,
shouting the weird cry of the Valkyres, the jealous Fricka, protector
of marriage vows, comes upon the scene in a chariot drawn by rams. A
stormy dialogue occurs between them, Fricka demanding the death of
Siegmund as compensation for the wrong done to Hunding. Wotan at last
is overcome, and consents that the Valkyres shall conduct him to
Walhalla. As he yields, Brünnhilde's jubilant song is heard on the
heights, and Wotan summons her and announces his changed decision.
Siegmund must perish. As he stalks gloomily away among the rocks,
Brünnhilde falls into deep dejection, and turns away moaning: "Alas!
my Volsung! Has it come to this,--that faithless the faithful must
fail thee?" As she enters a cave for her horse, the fugitives Siegmund
and Sieglinde hurriedly approach, pursued by the infuriated Hunding.
They stop to rest, and Sieglinde falls exhausted in his arms. The
scene is marked by alternations of passionate love and fear, hope on
the one side, despair on the other, vividly portrayed in the
instrumentation. As the music dies away and Sieglinde rests insensible
in his arms, Brünnhilde, with deep melancholy in her visage, shows
herself to Siegmund. In reply to his question, "Who art thou?" she
answers, "He who beholds me, to death in the battle is doomed. I shall
lead thee to Walhalla." Eagerly he asks, "Shall I find in Walhalla my
own father Wälse?" and she answers, "The Volsung shall find his father
there." With passionate earnestness he asks, "Shall Siegmund there
embrace Sieglinde?" The Valkyre replies, "The air of earth she still
must breathe. Sieglinde shall not see Siegmund there." Then furiously
answers Siegmund, "Then farewell to Walhalla! Where Sieglinde lives,
in bliss or blight, there Siegmund will also tarry," and he raises his
sword over his unconscious sister. Moved by his great love and sorrow,
Brünnhilde for the first time is swayed by human emotions, and
exultantly declares, "I will protect thee." Hunding's horn sounds in
the distance, and soon is heard his defiant challenge to battle.
Siegmund rushes to the top of one of the cloudy summits, and the clash
of their arms resounds in the mists. A sudden gleam of light shows
Brünnhilde hovering over Siegmund, and protecting him with her shield.
As he prepares himself to deal a deadly thrust at Hunding, the angry
Wotan appears in a storm-cloud and interposes his spear. Siegmund's
sword is shivered to pieces. Hunding pierces his disarmed enemy, and
he falls mortally wounded. Brünnhilde lifts the insensible Sieglinde
upon her steed and rides away with her. Wotan, leaning upon his spear,
gazes sorrowfully at the dying Volsung, and then turning to Hunding,
so overcomes him with his contemptuous glance that he falls dead at
his feet. "But Brünnhilde, woe to the traitor. Punishment dire is due
to her treason. To horse, then. Let vengeance speed swiftly." And
mounting his steed he disappears amid thunder and lightning.
The last act opens in a rocky glen filled with the Valkyres calling to
each other from summit to summit with wild cries as they come riding
through the clouds after the combat, bearing the dead bodies of the
warriors on their saddles. The scene is preluded with an orchestral
number, well known in the concert-room as the "Ride of the Valkyres,"
which is based upon two motives, the Valkyre's call and the Valkyre
melody. In picturesque description of the rush and dash of steeds,
amid which are heard the wild cries of the sisters, "The Ride" is one
of the most powerful numbers ever written. Brünnhilde arrives among
the exultant throng in tears, bearing Sieglinde with her. She gives
her the fragments of Siegmund's sword, and appeals to the other
Valkyres to save her. She bids Sieglinde live, for "thou art to give
birth to a Volsung," and to keep the fragments of the sword. "He that
once brandishes the sword, newly welded, let him be named Siegfried,
the winner of victory." Wotan's voice is now heard angrily shouting
through the storm-clouds, and calling upon Brünnhilde, who vainly
seeks to conceal herself among her sisters. He summons her forth from
the group, and she comes forward meekly but firmly and awaits her
punishment. He taxes her with violating his commands; to which she
replies, "I obeyed not thy order, but thy secret wish." The answer
does not avail, and he condemns her to sleep by the wayside, the
victim of the first who passes. She passionately pleads for protection
against dishonor, and the god consents. Placing her upon a rocky couch
and kissing her brow, he takes his farewell of her in a scene which
for majestic pathos has never been excelled. One forgets Wotan and the
Valkyre. It is the last parting of an earthly father and daughter,
illustrated with music which is the very apotheosis of grief. He then
conjures Loge, the god of fire; and as he strikes his spear upon the
rock, flames spring up all about her. Proudly he sings in the midst of
the glare:--
"Who fears the spike
Of my spear to face,
He will not pierce the planted fire,"--
a melody which is to form the motive of the hero Siegfried in the next
division of the work--and the curtain falls upon a scene which for
power, beauty, and majesty has not its equal on the lyric stage.
SIEGFRIED.
The second division of the tragedy, "Siegfried," might well be called
an idyl, of the forest. Its music is full of joyousness and delight.
In place of the struggles of gods and combats of fierce warriors, the
wild cries of Valkyres and the blendings of human passions with divine
angers, we have the repose and serenity of nature, and in the midst of
it all appears the hero Siegfried, true child of the woods, and as
full of wild joyousness and exultant strength as one of their fauns or
satyrs. It is a wonderful picture of nature, closing with an ecstatic,
vision of love.
After the death of Siegmund, Sieglinde takes refuge in the depths of
the forest, where she gives birth to Siegfried. In her dying moments
she intrusts him to Mime, who forged the ring for Alberich when he
obtained possession of the Rhinegold. The young hero has developed
into a handsome, manly stripling, who dominates the forests and holds
its wild animals subject to his will. He calls to the birds and they
answer him. He chases the deer with leaps as swift as their own. He
seizes the bear and drags him into Mime's hut, much to the Nibelung's
alarm. But while pursuing the wild, free life in the forest, he has
dreams of greater conquests than those over nature. Heroic deeds shape
themselves in his mind, and sometimes they are illuminated with dim
and mysterious visions of a deeper passion. In his interviews with
Mime he questions him about the world outside of the forest, its
people and their actions. He tires of the woods, and longs to get away
from them. Mime then shows him the fragments of his father's sword,
which had been shattered upon Wotan's spear, the only legacy left her
son by Sieglinde, and tells him that he who can weld them together
again will have power to conquer all before him. Mime had long tried
to forge a sword for Siegfried, but they were all too brittle, nor had
he the skill to weld together the fragments of Siegmund's sword,
Nothung. The only one who can perform that task is the hero without
fear. One day Siegfried returns from a hunting expedition and
undertakes it himself. He files the fragments into dust and throws it
into the crucible, which he places on the fire of the forge. Then
while blowing the bellows he sings a triumphant song ("Nothung!
Nothung! neidliches Schwert"), which anticipates the climax towards
which all the previous scenes have led. As he sings at his work Mime
cogitates how he shall thwart his plans and get possession of the
sword. He plots to have him kill Fafner, the giant, who has changed
himself into a dragon, for the more effectual custody of the
Rhine-treasure and the ring. Then when Siegfried has captured the
treasure he will drug him with a poisoned broth, kill him with the
sword, and seize the gold. Siegfried pours the melted steel into a
mould, thrusts it into the water to cool, and then bursts out into a
new song, accompanied by anvil blows, as he forges and tempers it, the
motive of which has already been heard in the "Rhinegold" prelude,
when Alberich made his threat. While Mime quietly mixes his potion,
Siegfried fastens the hilt to his blade and polishes the sword. Then
breaking out in a new song, in which are heard the motives of the
fire-god and the sword, he swings it through the air, and bringing it
down with force splits the anvil in twain. The music accompanying this
great scene, imitating the various sounds of the forge, the flutter of
the fire, the hissing of the water, the filing of the sword, and the
blows upon the anvil, is realism carried to the very extreme of
possibilities.
The great exploit has been successful, and Siegfried at last has
Siegmund's sword. Mime takes him to the cave where Fafner, the
giant-dragon, guards the gold. Siegfried slays the monster, and laughs
over the ease of the task. His finger is heated with the dragon's
blood, and as he puts it to his lips to cool it he tastes the blood,
and thus learns the language of the birds. He cares nought for the
treasure, and takes only the ring and a magic helmet, which enables
the wearer to assume any form. After the contest he throws himself at
the foot of a tree in the forest and dreamily listens to the
"Waldweben," the rustle and mysterious stirrings of the woods. Amid
all these subtle, soothing sounds, pierced now and then with the songs
of the birds, and distant cries in far-away sylvan recesses, he
realizes that he is alone, while his old companions of the woods are
together. He thinks of the mother whom he has never known, and of that
mysterious being whom he has never seen, who should make the
companionship he observes among the birds. The passion of love begins
to assert itself vaguely and strangely, but full soon it will glow out
with ardent flame. A bird flying over his head sings to him. He can
understand its song and fancies it his mother's voice coming to him in
the bird-notes. It tells him now he has the treasure, he should save
the most beautiful of women and win her to himself. "She sleeps upon a
rock, encircled with flames; but shouldst thou dare to break through
them, the warrior-virgin is thine." The bird wings its flight through
the forest, and Siegfried, joyously seizing his sword, follows it with
swift foot, for he knows it is guiding him to Brünnhilde. The time for
great deeds has come. The wild, free life of the forest is over.
The third act once more shows us the god Wotan still plunged in gloom.
Gazing into a deep abyss, he summons Erda, who knows the destiny of
all the world, to question her again as to the twilight of the gods.
The mysterious figure appears at his bidding, but has nothing further
to communicate. Their doom is certain. The fearless race of men is
destined to efface the gods, and Walhalla must disappear. The hero is
at hand, and coming rapidly. The despairing Wotan, who appears in this
scene as "Der Wanderer" (the wanderer), cries out, "So be it. It is to
this end I aspire." He turns gloomily away, and confronts Siegfried
bounding from rock to rock like a deer, still following his airy
guide. The god angrily tries to bar his way, but in vain. His lance is
shattered at a single blow of the sword Nothung, which he himself had
once so easily shivered. It is the first catastrophe of the final fate
which is approaching. The hero without fear has come, the free will of
man has begun to manifest itself. The power of the gods is breaking.
Joyously Siegfried rushes on over the rocks. He is soon bathed in the
glow of the fire, which casts weird shadows through the wild glen. Now
the burning wall of red flames is before him. With a ringing cry of
exultation he dashes through them, and before him lies the sleeping
maiden in her glistening armor. Mad with her beauty and his own
overpowering passion, he springs to her side and wakes her with a
kiss. The Volsung and the Valkyr gaze at each other a long time in
silence. Brünnhilde strives to comprehend her situation, and to recall
the events that led up to her penalty, while love grows within her for
the hero who has rescued her, and Siegfried is transfixed by the
majesty of the maiden. As she comes to herself and fully realizes who
is the hero before her and foresees the approaching doom, she
earnestly appeals to him:--
"Leave, ah, leave,
Leave me unlost,
Force on me not
Thy fiery nearness.
Shiver me not
With thy shattering will,
And lay me not waste in thy love."
What is preordained cannot be changed. Siegfried replies with growing
passion, and Brünnhilde at last yields, and the two join in an
outburst of exultant song:--
"Away, Walhalla,
In dust crumble
Thy myriad towers.
Farewell, greatness,
And gift of the gods.
You, Norns, unravel
The rope of runes.
Darken upwards,
Dusk of the gods.
Night of annulment,
Draw near with thy cloud.
I stand in sight
Of Siegfried's star.
For me he was,
And for me he will ever be."
With this great duet, which is one of the most extraordinary numbers
in the trilogy for dramatic power and musical expression of human
emotion, this division closes.
DIE GÖTTERDÄMMERUNG.
The last division of the tragedy opens under the shade of a huge
ash-tree where the three Fates sit spinning and weaving out human
destinies. As they toss their thread from one to the other,--the
thread they have been spinning since time began,--they foresee the
gloom which is coming. Suddenly it snaps in their fingers, whereupon
the dark sisters crowding closely together descend to the depths of
the earth to consult with the ancient Erda and seek shelter near her.
Meanwhile as day breaks Siegfried and Brünnhilde emerge from the glen
where they have been reposing in mutual happiness. Brünnhilde has told
her lover the story of the gods and the secrets of the mystic runes,
but he is still unsatisfied. His mission is not yet fulfilled. He must
away to perform new deeds. Before he leaves her he gives her the ring
as his pledge of fidelity, and they part, after exchanging mutual vows
of love and constancy.
In his search for further exploits, Siegfried arrives at the dwelling
of Gunter, a powerful Rhenish chief, head of the Gibichungen, another
race of heroes, where also resides Gutrune, his fascinating sister,
and the evil Hagen, begotten by Alberich of Crimhilda, Gunter's
mother, who was the victim of his gold. Alberich's hatred of the gods
and all connected with them is shared by his son, who has been charged
by the Nibelung to recover the gold. From this point the tragic
denouement rapidly progresses. Siegfried's horn is heard in the
distance, and he soon crosses Gunter's threshold, where his ruin is
being plotted by the sinister Hagen. He is hospitably received, and at
Hagen's bidding Gutrune pours out and offers him a draught so
cunningly mixed that it will efface all past remembrances. He is
completely infatuated with the girl's beauty, and as the potion takes
effect, the love for Brünnhilde disappears. He demands Gutrune in
marriage, and Hagen promises her upon condition that he will bring
Brünnhilde as a bride for Gunter. Siegfried departs upon the fatal
errand, and after taking from her the ring drags her by force to
deliver her to Gunter. The Valkyr rises to a sublime height of anger
over her betrayal, and dooms Siegfried to death in the approaching
hunt, for by death alone she knows that she can regain his love.
The last act opens in a rocky glen on the banks of the Rhine, the
ripple of whose waters is repeated in the melody of "The Rhinegold."
Siegfried is separated from his companion, and while alone, the song
of the Rhine-daughters is heard. They rise to the surface of the
gleaming water and demand their gold, but Siegfried refuses to restore
it. They warn him again to fly from the curse, but he proudly exclaims
that his sword is invincible and can crush the Norns. Sadly they float
away to the sound of harps shimmering over the water. Gunter's horn is
heard among the hills, and Siegfried exultantly answers it. The
huntsmen assemble and prepare for a feast. Siegfried relates his
adventure with the Rhine-daughters, and when Hagen asks him if it is
true that he can understand the language of the birds, he tells the
whole story of his life in the "Rheinfahrt," a song built up of all
the motives which have been heard in the "Siegfried" division,--the
melody of the sword, the stir of the woods, the song of the mysterious
bird, Mime's enticement, the love of Brünnhilde, and the flaming fire
following each other in rapid and brilliant succession through the
measures of the picturesque description. As the song dies away, two
ravens, messengers of ill-omen, fly across the stage. The curse motive
sounds gloomily through the orchestra. Hagen springs to his feet and
suddenly and treacherously plunges his spear into Siegfried's back,
then sullenly leaves and disappears among the rocks. The hero falls to
the earth and dies, breathing Brünnhilde's name, for in the last
supreme moment the spell of Hagen's draught passes away. With his last
breath he breaks out in a death-song of surpassing beauty and majesty,
in which the motives are those of the Volsung and the Valkyr, as well
as of the destiny which is to reunite them in death. Once more he
murmurs the name of Brünnhilde, and then his companions tenderly place
him upon his shield, and lifting him upon their shoulders carry him to
the misty summits and disappear in the cloud, to the mighty and
impressive strains of a funeral march, built up on the motives of
Siegmund, the love-duet of Siegmund and Sieglinde, the sword and
Volsung motives, and Siegfried's great theme. In the interweaving of
these motives and their sombre coloring, in massive fortissimo and
crescendo effects, in expressive musical delineation, and in majestic
solemnity, the Siegfried funeral march must take precedence of all
other dirges. In truth it is a colossal and heroic funeral poem fit to
celebrate the death of a demigod. In the last scene Siegfried's body
is borne back to the hall of the Gibichungs amid loud lamenting. When
Gutrune learns what has occurred, she bitterly curses Hagen and throws
herself on Siegfried's corpse. Hagen and Gunter quarrel for the
possession of the ring, and Gunter is slain; but when Hagen tries to
take the ring, the hand of the dead hero is raised in warning. Then
Brünnhilde solemnly and proudly advances in the light of the torches
and bids the empty clamor cease, for "this is no lamenting worthy of a
hero." She orders a funeral pyre to be built, and Siegfried is laid
thereon. She contemplates the dead hero with passionate love and
sadness, and then solemnly turning to those about her, exclaims:
"Those who efface the fault of the gods are predestined to suffering
and death. Let one sacrifice end the curse. Let the Ring be purified
by fire, the waters dissolve it forever. The end of the gods is at
hand. But though I leave the world masterless, I give it this precious
treasure. In joy or in suffering, happiness can alone come from love."
She seizes a burning brand, and invoking Loge, god of fire, flings it
into the pyre. Her horse is brought to her, and she proudly mounts
it:--
"Grane, my horse,
Hail to thee here!
Knowest thou, friend,
How far I shall need thee?
Heiaho! Grane!
Greeting to him.
Siegfried! See, Brünnhilde
Joyously hails thee, thy bride."
She swings herself upon her steed and dashes into the furious flames.
At last they die away, and the Rhine rushes forward from its banks and
covers the pyre. The exultant Rhine-daughters are swimming in the
flood, for Brünnhilde has thrown them the ring. Hagen makes a last
desperate effort to clutch it, but Woglinde and Wellgunde wind their
arms about him, and as they drag him into the depths Flosshilde holds
the ring above the waters, and the exultant song of the
Rhine-daughters is heard above the swelling tide, while far in the
distance a red flame spreads among the clouds. Walhalla is blazing in
the sky. The Dusk of the Gods has come. Reparation has been made. The
hero without fear is victorious. Free will, independent of the gods,
will rule the world, and the gods themselves are lost in the human
creation. Love is given to men, and conquers death.
PARSIFAL.
"Parsifal," a "Bühnenweihfestspiel" (festival acting-drama), words by
Wagner, was concluded in 1879, and first produced at Baireuth, July
22, 1882, only about seven months before the distinguished composer's
death, with Mme. Friedrich-Materna as Kundry, Herr Winckelmann as
Parsifal, and Herr Scaria as Gurnemanz.
The theme of the opera is taken from the cycle of Holy Grail myths to
which "Lohengrin" also belongs. The reader will remember that
Lohengrin in his final address declares himself son of Parsifal, the
King of the Grail; and it is with this Parsifal that Wagner's last
work is concerned. Parsifal, like Siegfried, represents free human
nature in its spontaneous, impulsive action. He is styled in the text,
"Der reine Thor" (the guileless fool), who, in consonance with the old
mythological idea, overcomes the evil principle and gains the crown by
dint of pure natural impulse. The opera differs widely from "The
Nibelung Ring." The composer has used the free instead of the
alliterative form of verse, which he then contended was best adapted
to musical setting. In "The Ring" the chorus is not introduced at all
until the last division is reached, while in "Parsifal" it plays an
important part in every act, in the second scene of the first act
there being three choirs on the stage at a time. Still there is no
trace of the aria, the duet, or the recitative, of the Italian style,
though there is plenty of concerted music, which grows out of the
dramatic necessities of the situations. When these necessities do not
urge themselves, the music flows on in dialogue form, as in "The
Ring."
The vorspiel is based upon three motives connected with the mystery of
the Grail, which forms the key-note of the opera, though in a
different aspect from that which the Grail assumes in "Lohengrin,"
where it can only be visible to the eye of faith, while in "Parsifal"
it distinctly performs its wonders. Let it be remembered that the
Grail is the chalice from which Christ drank with his disciples at the
Last Supper, and in which his blood was received at the cross. The
first of these motives is of the same general character as the Grail
motive in the "Lohengrin" vorspiel; the second is an impressive phrase
for trumpets and trombones, which will be heard again when the Knights
of the Grail are summoned to their duties; and the third is a broad,
dignified melody in the chorale form.