Act I. In the introduction to "The Rhinegold," we saw the Rhine
flowing peacefully toward the sea and the innocent gambols of the _Rhinedaughters_. But "The Valkyr" opens in storm and stress. The peace and happiness of the first scene of the cycle seem to have vanished from the earth with _Alberich's_ abjuration of love, his theft of the gold, and _Wotan's_ equally treacherous acts.
This "Valkyr" Vorspiel is a masterly representation in tone of a storm gathering for its last infuriated onslaught. The elements are unleashed. The wind sweeps through the forest. Lightning flashes in jagged streaks across the black heavens. There is a crash of thunder and the storm has spent its force.
Two leading motives are employed in this introduction. They are the =Storm Motive= and the =Donner Motive=. The =Storm Motive= is as follows:
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These themes are elemental. From them Wagner has composed storm music of convincing power.
In the early portion of this vorspiel only the string instruments are used. Gradually the instrumentation grows more powerful. With the climax we have a tremendous _ff_ on the contra tuba and two tympani, followed by the crash of the Donner Motive on the wind instruments.
The storm then gradually dies away. Before it has quite passed over, the curtain rises, revealing the large hall of _Hunding's_ dwelling. This hall is built around a huge ash-tree, whose trunk and branches pierce the roof, over which the foliage is supposed to spread. There are walls of rough-hewn boards, here and there hung with large plaited and woven hangings. In the right foreground is a large open hearth; back of it in a recess is the larder, separated from the hall by a woven hanging, half drawn. In the background is a large door. A few steps in the left foreground lead up to the door of an inner room. The furniture of the hall is primitive and rude. It consists chiefly of a table, bench, and stools in front of the ash-tree. Only the light of the fire on the hearth illumines the room; though occasionally its fitful gleam is slightly intensified by a distant flash of lightning from the departing storm.
The door in the background is opened from without. _Siegmund_, supporting himself with his hand on the bolt, stands in the entrance. He seems exhausted. His appearance is that of a fugitive who has reached the limit of his powers of endurance. Seeing no one in the hall, he staggers toward the hearth and sinks upon a bearskin rug before it, with the exclamation:
Whose hearth this may be, Here I must rest me.
Wagner's treatment of this scene is masterly. As _Siegmund_ stands in the entrance we hear the =Siegmund Motive=. This is a sad, weary strain on 'cellos and basses. It seems the wearier for the burden of an accompanying figure on the horns, beneath which it seems to stagger as _Siegmund_ staggers toward the hearth. Thus the music not only reflects _Siegmund's_ weary mien, but accompanies most graphically his weary gait. Perhaps Wagner's intention was more metaphysical. Maybe the burden beneath which the Siegmund Motive staggers is the curse of _Alberich_. It is through that curse that _Siegmund's_ life has been one of storm and stress.
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When the storm-beaten Wälsung has sunk upon the rug the Siegmund Motive is followed by the Storm Motive, _pp_--and the storm has died away. The door of the room to the left opens and a young woman--_Sieglinde_--appears. She has heard someone enter, and, thinking her husband returned, has come forth to meet him--not impelled to this by love, but by fear. For _Hunding_ had, while her father and kinsmen were away on the hunt, laid waste their dwelling and abducted her and forcibly married her. Ill-fated herself, she is moved to compassion at sight of the storm-driven fugitive before the hearth, and bends over him.
Her compassionate action is accompanied by a new motive, which by Wagner's commentators has been entitled the Motive of Compassion. But it seems to me to have a further meaning as expressing the sympathy between two souls, a tie so subtle that it is at first invisible even to those whom it unites. _Siegmund_ and _Sieglinde_, it will be remembered, belong to the same race; and though they are at this point of the action unknown to one another, yet, as _Sieglinde_ bends over the hunted, storm-beaten _Siegmund_, that subtle sympathy causes her to regard him with more solicitude than would be awakened by any other unfortunate stranger. Hence I have called this motive the =Motive of Sympathy=--taking sympathy in its double meaning of compassion and affinity of feeling:
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The beauty of this brief phrase is enhanced by its unpretentiousness. It wells up from the orchestra as spontaneously as pity mingled with sympathetic sorrow wells up from the heart of a gentle woman. As it is _Siegmund_ who has awakened these feelings in _Sieglinde_, the Motive of Sympathy is heard simultaneously with the Siegmund Motive.
_Siegmund_, suddenly raising his head, ejaculates, "Water, water!" _Sieglinde_ hastily snatches up a drinking-horn and, having quickly filled it at a spring near the house, swiftly returns and hands it to _Siegmund_. As though new hope were engendered in _Siegmund's_ breast by _Sieglinde's_ gentle ministration, the Siegmund Motive rises higher and higher, gathering passion in its upward sweep and then, combined again with the Motive of Sympathy, sinks to an expression of heartfelt gratitude. This passage is scored entirely for strings. Yet no composer, except Wagner, has evoked from a full orchestra sounds richer or more sensuously beautiful.
Having quaffed from the proffered cup the stranger lifts a searching gaze to her features, as if they awakened within him memories the significance of which he himself cannot fathom. She, too, is strangely affected by his gaze. How has fate interwoven their lives that these two people, a man and a woman, looking upon each other apparently for the first time, are so thrilled by a mysterious sense of affinity?
Here occurs the =Love Motive= played throughout as a violoncello solo, with accompaniment of eight violoncellos and two double basses; exquisite in tone colour and one of the most tenderly expressive phrases ever penned.
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The Love Motive is the mainspring of this act. For this act tells the story of love from its inception to its consummation. Similarly in the course of this act the Love Motive rises by degrees of intensity from an expression of the first tender presentiment of affection to the very ecstasy of love.
_Siegmund_ asks with whom he has found shelter. _Sieglinde_ replies that the house is _Hunding's_, and she his wife, and requests _Siegmund_ to await her husband's return.
Weaponless am I: The wounded guest, He will surely give shelter,
is _Siegmund's_ reply. With anxious celerity, _Sieglinde_ asks him to show her his wounds. But, refreshed by the draught of cool spring water and with hope revived by her sympathetic presence, he gathers force and, raising himself to a sitting posture, exclaims that his wounds are but slight; his frame is still firm, and had sword and shield held half so well, he would not have fled from his foes. His strength was spent in flight through the storm, but the night that sank on his vision has yielded again to the sunshine of _Sieglinde's_ presence. At these words the Motive of Sympathy rises like a sweet hope. _Sieglinde_ fills the drinking-horn with mead and offers it to _Siegmund_. He asks her to take the first sip. She does so and then hands it to him. His eyes rest upon her while he drinks. As he returns the drinking-horn to her there are traces of deep emotion in his mien. He sighs and gloomily bows his head. The action at this point is most expressively accompanied by the orchestra. Specially noteworthy is an impassioned upward sweep of the Motive of Sympathy as _Siegmund_ regards _Sieglinde_ with traces of deep emotion in his mien.
In a voice that trembles with emotion, he says: "You have harboured one whom misfortune follows wherever he wends his footsteps. Lest through me misfortune enter this house, I will depart." With firm, determined strides he already has reached the door, when she, forgetting all in the vague memories that his presence have stirred within her, calls after him:
"Tarry! You cannot bring sorrow to the house where sorrow already reigns!"
Her words are followed by a phrase freighted as if with sorrow, the Motive of the Wälsung Race, or =Wälsung Motive=:
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_Siegmund_ returns to the hearth, while she, as if shamed by her outburst of feeling, allows her eyes to sink toward the ground. Leaning against the hearth, he rests his calm, steady gaze upon her, until she again raises her eyes to his, and they regard each other in long silence and with deep emotion. The woman is the first to start. She hears _Hunding_ leading his horse to the stall, and soon afterward he stands upon the threshold looking darkly upon his wife and the stranger. _Hunding_ is a man of great strength and stature, his eyes heavy-browed, his sinister features framed in thick black hair and beard, a sombre, threatful personality boding little good to whomever crosses his path.
With the approach of _Hunding_ there is a sudden change in the character of the music. Like a premonition of _Hunding's_ entrance we hear the =Hunding Motive=, _pp_. Then as _Hunding_, armed with spear and shield, stands upon the threshold, this Hunding Motive--as dark, forbidding, and portentous of woe to the two Wälsungs as _Hunding's_ sombre visage--resounds with dread power on the tubas:
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Although weaponless, and _Hunding_ armed with spear and shield, the fugitive meets his scrutiny without flinching, while the woman, anticipating her husband's inquiry, explains that she had discovered him lying exhausted at the hearth and given him shelter. With an assumed graciousness that makes him, if anything, more forbidding, _Hunding_ orders her prepare the meal. While she does so he glances repeatedly from her to the stranger whom she has harboured, as if comparing their features and finding in them something to arouse his suspicions. "How like unto her," he mutters.
"Your name and story?" he asks, after they have seated themselves at the table in front of the ash-tree, and when the stranger hesitates, _Hunding_ points to the woman's eager, inquiring look.
"Guest," she urges, little knowing the suspicions her husband harbours, "gladly would I know whence you come."
Slowly, as if oppressed by heavy memories, he begins his story, carefully, however, continuing to conceal his name, since for all he knows, _Hunding_ may be one of the enemies of his race. Amid incredible hardships, surrounded by enemies against whom he and his kin constantly were obliged to defend themselves, he grew up in the forest. He and his father returned from one of their hunts to find the hut in ashes, his mother a corpse, and no trace of his twin sister. In one of the combats with their foes he became separated from his father.
At this point you hear the Walhalla Motive, for _Siegmund's_ father was none other than _Wotan_, known to his human descendants, however, only as Wälse. In _Wotan's_ narrative in the next act it will be discovered that _Wotan_ purposely created these misfortunes for _Siegmund_, in order to strengthen him for his task.
Continuing his narrative _Siegmund_ says that, since losing track of his father, he has wandered from place to place, ever with misfortune in his wake. That very day he has defended a maid whom her brothers wished to force into marriage. But when, in the combat that ensued, he had slain her brothers, she turned upon him and denounced him as a murderer, while the kinsmen of the slain, summoned to vengeance, attacked him from all quarters. He fought until shield and sword were shattered, then fled to find chance shelter in _Hunding's_ dwelling.
The story of _Siegmund_ is told in melodious recitative. It is not a melody in the old-fashioned meaning of the term, but it fairly teems with melodiousness. It will have been observed that incidents very different in kind are related by _Siegmund_. It would be impossible to treat this narrative with sufficient variety of expression in a melody. But in Wagner's melodious recitative the musical phrases reflect every incident narrated by _Siegmund_. For instance, when _Siegmund_ tells how he went hunting with his father there is joyous freshness and abandon in the music, which, however, suddenly sinks to sadness as he narrates how they returned and found the Wälsung dwelling devastated by enemies. We hear also the Hunding Motive at this point, which thus indicates that whose who brought this misfortune upon the Wälsungs were none other than _Hunding_ and his kinsmen. As _Siegmund_ tells how, when he was separated from his father, he sought to mingle with men and women, you hear the Love Motive, while his description of his latest combat is accompanied by the rhythm of the Hunding Motive. Those whom _Siegmund_ slew were _Hunding's_ kinsmen. Thus _Siegmund's_ dark fate has driven him to seek shelter in the house of the very man who is the arch-enemy of his race and is bound by the laws of kinship to avenge on _Siegmund_ the death of kinsmen.
As _Siegmund_ concludes his narrative the Wälsung Motive is heard. Gazing with ardent longing toward _Sieglinde_, he says:
Now know'st thou, questioning wife, Why "Peaceful" is not my name.
These words are sung to a lovely phrase. Then, as _Siegmund_ rises and strides over to the hearth, while _Sieglinde_, pale and deeply affected by his tale, bows her head, there is heard on the horns, bassoons, violas, and 'cellos a motive expressive of the heroic fortitude of the Wälsungs in struggling against their fate. It is the =Motive of the Wälsungs' Heroism=, a motive steeped in the tragedy of futile struggle against destiny.
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The sombre visage at the head of the table has grown even darker and more threatening. _Hunding_ arises. "I know a ruthless race to whom nothing is sacred, and hated of all," he says. "Mine were the kinsmen you slew. I, too, was summoned from my home to take blood vengeance upon the slayer. Returning, I find him here. You have been offered shelter for the night, and for the night you are safe. But tomorrow be prepared to defend yourself."
Alone, unarmed, and in the house of his enemy! And yet the same roof harbours a friend--the woman. What strange affinity has brought them together under the eye of the pitiless savage with whom she has been forced into marriage? The embers on the hearth collapse. The glow that for a moment pervades the room seems to his excited senses a reflection from the eyes of the woman to whom he has been so unaccountably yet so strongly drawn. Even the spot on the old ash-tree, where he saw her glance linger before she left the room, seems to have caught its sheen. Then the embers die out. All grows dark.
The scene is eloquently set to music. _Siegmund's_ gloomy thoughts are accompanied by the threatening rhythm of the Hunding Motive and the Sword Motive in a minor key, for _Siegmund_ is still weaponless.
A sword my father did promise.... Wälse! Wälse! Where is thy sword!
The Sword Motive rings out like a shout of triumph. As the embers of the fire collapse, there is seen in the glare, that for a moment falls upon the ash-tree, the hilt of a sword whose blade is buried in the trunk of the tree at the point upon which _Sieglinde's_ look last rested. While the Motive of the Sword gently rises and falls, like the coming and going of a lovely memory, _Siegmund_ apostrophizes the sheen as the reflection of _Sieglinde's_ glance. And although the embers die out, and night falls upon the scene, in _Siegmund's_ thoughts the memory of that pitying, loving look glimmers on.
Is it his excited fancy that makes him hear the door of the inner chamber softly open and light footsteps coming in his direction? No; for he becomes conscious of a form, her form, dimly limned upon the darkness. He springs to his feet. _Sieglinde_ is by his side. She has given _Hunding_ a sleeping-potion. She will point out a weapon to _Siegmund_--a sword. If he can wield it she will call him the greatest hero, for only the mightiest can wield it. The music quickens with the subdued excitement in the breasts of the two Wälsungs. You hear the Sword Motive and above it, on horns, clarinet, and oboe, a new motive--that of the =Wälsungs' Call to Victory=:
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for _Sieglinde_ hopes that with the sword the stranger, who has awakened so quickly love in her breast, will overcome _Hunding_. This motive has a resistless, onward sweep. _Sieglinde_, amid the strains of the stately Walhalla Motive, followed by the Sword Motive, narrates the story of the sword. While _Hunding_ and his kinsmen were feasting in honour of her forced marriage with him, an aged stranger entered the hall. The men knew him not and shrank from his fiery glance. But upon her his look rested with tender compassion. With a mighty thrust he buried a sword up to its hilt in the trunk of the ash-tree. Whoever drew it from its sheath to him it should belong. The stranger went his way. One after another the strong men tugged at the hilt--but in vain. Then she knew who the aged stranger was and for whom the sword was destined.
The Sword Motive rings out like a joyous shout, and _Sieglinde's_ voice mingles with the triumphant notes of the Wälsungs' Call to Victory as she turns to _Siegmund_:
O, found I in thee The friend in need!
The Motive of the Wälsungs' heroism, now no longer full of tragic import, but forceful and defiant--and _Siegmund_ holds _Sieglinde_ in his embrace.
There is a rush of wind. The woven hangings flap and fall. As the lovers turn, a glorious sight greets their eyes. The landscape is illumined by the moon. Its silver sheen flows down the hills and quivers along the meadows whose grasses tremble in the breeze. All nature seems to be throbbing in unison with the hearts of the lovers, and, turning to the woman, _Siegmund_ greets her with the =Love Song=:
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The Love Motive, impassioned, irresistible, sweeps through the harmonies--and Love and Spring are united. The Love Motive also pulsates through _Sieglinde's_ ecstatic reply after she has given herself fully up to _Siegmund_ in the Flight Motive--for before his coming her woes have fled as winter flies before the coming of spring. With _Siegmund's_ exclamation:
Oh, wondrous vision! Rapturous woman!
there rises from the orchestra like a vision of loveliness the Motive of Freia, the Venus of German mythology. In its embrace it folds this pulsating theme:
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It throbs on like a love-kiss until it seemingly yields to the blandishments of this caressing phrase:
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This throbbing, pulsating, caressing music is succeeded by a moment of repose. The woman again gazes searchingly into the man's features. She has seen his face before. When? Now she remembers. It is when she has seen her own reflection in a brook! And his voice? It seems to her like an echo of her own. And his glance; has it never before rested on her? She is sure it has, and she will tell him when.
She repeats how, while _Hunding_ and his kinsmen were feasting at her marriage, an aged man entered the hall and, drawing a sword, thrust it to the hilt in the ash-tree. The first to draw it out, to him it should belong. One after another the men strove to loosen the sword, but in vain. Once the aged man's glance rested on her and shone with the same light as now shines in his who has come to her through night and storm. He who thrust the sword into the tree was of her own race, the Wälsungs. Who is he?
"I, too, have seen that light, but in your eyes!" exclaimed the fugitive. "I, too, am of your race. I, too, am a Wälsung, my father none other than Wälse himself."
"Was Wälse your father?" she cries ecstatically. "For you, then, this sword was thrust in the tree! Let me name you, as I recall you from far back in my childhood, _Siegmund_--_Siegmund_--_Siegmund_!"
"Yes, I am _Siegmund_; and you, too, I now know well. You are _Sieglinde_. Fate has willed that we two of our unhappy race, shall meet again and save each other or perish together."
Then, leaping upon the table, he grasps the sword-hilt which protrudes from the trunk of the ash-tree where he has seen that strange glow in the light of the dying embers. A mighty tug, and he draws it from the tree as a blade from its scabbard. Brandishing it in triumph, he leaps to the floor and, clasping _Sieglinde_, rushes forth with her into the night.
And the music? It fairly seethes with excitement. As _Siegmund_ leaps upon the table, the Motive of the Wälsungs' Heroism rings out as if in defiance of the enemies of the race. The Sword Motive--and he has grasped the hilt; the Motive of Compact, ominous of the fatality which hangs over the Wälsungs; the Motive of Renunciation, with its threatening import; then the Sword Motive--brilliant like the glitter of refulgent steel--and _Siegmund_ has unsheathed the sword. The Wälsungs' Call to Victory, like a song of triumph; a superb upward sweep of the Sword Motive; the Love Motive, now rushing onward in the very ecstasy of passion, and _Siegmund_ holds in his embrace _Sieglinde_, his bride--of the same doomed race as himself!