Chapter 18

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.

The third act opens upon a peaceful Sunday-morning scene in the sleepy old town, and shows us Sachs sitting in his arm-chair at the window reading his Bible, and now and then expressing his hopes for Walter's success, as the great contest is soon to take place. At last he leans back, and after a brief meditation commences a characteristic song ("Wahn! wahn! Ueberall wahn!"). A long dialogue ensues between him and Walter, and then as Eva, David, Magdalena, and Beckmesser successively enter, the scene develops into a magnificent quintet, which is one of the most charming numbers in the opera. The situation then suddenly changes. The stage-setting represents an open meadow on the banks of the Pegnitz. The river is crowded with boats. The plain is covered with tents full of merrymakers. The different guilds are continually arriving. A livelier or more stirring scene can hardly be imagined than Wagner has here pictured, with its accompaniment of choruses by the various handicraftsmen, their pompous marches, and the rural strains of town pipers. At last the contest begins. Beckmesser attempts to get through his song and dismally fails. Walter follows him with the beautiful prize-song, "Morgenlich leuchtend in rosigem Schein." He wins the day and the hand of Eva. Exultant Sachs trolls out a lusty lay ("Verachtet mir der Meister nicht"), and the stirring scene ends with the acclamations of the people ("Heil Sachs! Hans Sachs! Heil Nürnberg's theurem Sachs!").

THE RING OF THE NIBELUNG.

"Der Ring des Nibelungen," a trilogy, the subject taken from the Nibelungen Lied and adapted by the composer, was first conceived by Wagner during the composition of "Lohengrin." The four dramatic poems which constitute its cyclus were written as early as 1852, which will correct a very general impression that this colossal work was projected during the closing years of his life. On the contrary, it was the product of his prime. Hueffer, in his biographical sketch of Wagner, says that he hesitated between the historical and mythical principles as the subjects of his work,--Frederick the First representing the former, and Siegfried, the hero of Teutonic mythology, the latter. Siegfried was finally selected. "Wagner began at once sketching the subject, but gradually the immense breadth and grandeur of the old types began to expand under his hands, and the result was a trilogy, or rather tetralogy, of enormous dimensions, perhaps the most colossal attempt upon which the dramatic muse has ventured since the times of Æschylus." The trilogy is really in four parts,--"Das Rheingold" (the Rhinegold); "Die Walküre" (the Valkyrie); "Siegfried"; and "Die Götterdämmerung" (the Twilight of the Gods), "The Rhinegold" being in the nature of an introduction to the trilogy proper, though occupying an evening for its performance. Between the years 1852 and 1856 the composer wrote the music of the "Rhinegold" and the whole of "The Valkyrie;" and then, as he says himself, wishing to keep up his active connection with the stage, he interrupted the progress of the main scheme, and wrote "Tristan and Isolde," which occupied him from 1856 to 1859. During its composition, however, he did not entirely forsake the trilogy. In the autumn of 1856 he began "Siegfried," the composition of which was not finished until 1869, owing to many other objects which engaged his attention during this period, one of which was the composition of "The Mastersingers," which he wrote at intervals between 1861 and 1867. From the latter year until 1876, when the trilogy was produced at Baireuth, he gave himself wholly to the work of completing it and preparing it for the stage.

Prior to the production of the completed work, separate parts of it were given, though Wagner strongly opposed it. "The Rhinegold," or introduction, came to a public dress-rehearsal at Munich Aug. 25, 1869, and "The Valkyrie" was performed in a similar manner in the same city, June 24, 1870, with the following cast:--

WOTAN Herr KINDERMANN. SIEGMUND Herr VOGL. HUNDING Herr BAUSERWEIN. BRÜNNHILDE Frl. STEHLE. SIEGLINDE Frau VOGL. FRICKA Frl. KAUFFMANN.

The "Siegfried" and "Götterdämmerung," however, were not given until the entire work was performed in 1876. Upon the completion of his colossal task Wagner began to look about him for the locality, theatre, artists, and materials suitable for a successful representation. In the circular which he issued, narrating the circumstances which led up to the building of the Baireuth opera-house, he says: "As early as the spring of 1871 I had, quietly and unnoticed, had my eye upon Baireuth, the place I had chosen for my purpose. The idea of using the Margravian Opera-House was abandoned so soon as I saw its interior construction. But yet the peculiar character of that kindly town and its site so answered my requirements, that during the wintry latter part of the autumn of the same year I repeated my visit,--this time, however, to treat with the city authorities.... An unsurpassably beautiful and eligible plot of ground at no great distance from the town was given me on which to erect the proposed theatre. Having come to an understanding as to its erection with a man of approved inventive genius, and of rare experience in the interior arrangement of theatres, we could then intrust to an architect of equal acquaintance with theatrical building the further planning and the erection of the provisional structure. And despite the great difficulties which attended the arrangements for putting under way so unusual an undertaking, we made such progress that the laying of the corner-stone could be announced to our patrons and friends for May 22, 1872." The ceremony took place as announced, and was made still further memorable by a magnificent performance of Beethoven's Ninth or Choral Symphony, the chorus of which, set to Schiller's "Ode to Joy," was sung by hundreds of lusty German throats. In addition to the other contents of the stone, Wagner deposited the following mystic verse of his own:

"I bury here a secret deep, For centuries long to lie concealed; Yet while this stone its trust shall keep, To all the secret stands revealed."