Chapter 17

seem difficult; it is no part of my plan to expound the obvious. The following scene, where for the first time the two principal personages stand face to face, though the most important that we have met with so far, is perfectly clear, both in the music and the words. No one could mistake the force of the blasts of the wind instruments with which it opens (No. 8). The device of repeating a motive in rising thirds was adopted by Wagner from Liszt, and is very common in _Tristan_. We first met with it in the opening bars of the Prelude, where the love-motive is so repeated.

The first part of the scene is a trial of wits between Isolde and Tristan, in which the latter is helpless as a bird in the claws of a cat. The dialogue as such is a masterpiece, unrivalled in the works of any dramatic poet except Shakespeare. At last, crushed by her taunts, Tristan hands her his sword, asking her to pierce him through, only to be answered with scorn still more scathing than before. "No," she says. "What would King Marke say were I to slay _his best servant_?" There is not a trace of love in the scene; nothing but anger and contempt. In other parts of the act there are indications of smouldering fire which threatens to break out upon occasion, but there is nothing of the kind when they are together. If once, when he lay helpless and in her power, she was touched with pity for so noble a hero, that has long ago been overcome, or only remains as a distant memory of something long past and gone. It has been truly observed that Tristan and Isolde are not like Romeo and Juliet, two children scarcely conscious of what they are doing. Both are in the full maturity of life and in the vigour of their intellectual powers.

In keeping with the dialectic, argumentative character of the dialogue, the music is generally dry and formal, but broken through occasionally with rending cries of agony, and interpolated with moments of tender emotional beauty. The orchestra generally gives the tone to the situation, only occasionally departing from that rôle to enter at critical moments to support and enforce specific words or actions. The leading motive throughout is the one which I have quoted: "vengeance for Morold."

After some preliminary _persiflage_, in which she laughs to scorn the excuse which he offers for having kept away from her from a sense of propriety, she at once comes to the point:

_Is_. There is blood-feud between us!

_Tr_. That was expiated.

_Is_. Not between us!

_Tr_. In open field before all the host a solemn peace was sworn.

_Is_. Not there it was that I concealed Tantris, that Tristan fell before me. There he stood noble and strong; but I swore not what he swore; I had learned to be silent. When he lay sick in the silent room speechless I stood before him with the sword. My lips were silent, my hand I restrained, but the vow passed by my hand and my lips, I silently swore to keep. Now I will perform my oath.

_Tr_. What didst thou vow, oh woman?

_Is_. Vengeance for Morold.

_Tr_. Is that what is troubling you?

Once, and once only, does the victim turn to retort upon her with her own weapon of irony. The attempt is disastrous. At once changing her tone she assumes the air of an injured woman. Tristan has taken her lover from her, and does he now dare to mock her? As her thoughts wander back to past days of happiness she continues in strains of surpassing tenderness, mingled with hints of warlike music in the trumpets:

_Is_. Betrothed he was to me, the proud Irish hero; his arms I had hallowed; for me he went to battle. When he fell, my honour fell. In the heaviness of my heart I swore that if no man would avenge the murder, I, a maiden, would take it upon me. Sick and weary in my power, why did I not then smite thee?

She states the reason why she did not slay him when he was in her power in language so strange that I can only give a literal translation:

I nursed the wounded man that, when restored to health, the man who won him from Isolde should smite him in vengeance.

Such is the German; what it means I must confess myself unable to explain, and can only suspect some corruption in the text.

There is a solemn pause in the music; the love-motive is uttered by the bass clarinet. Nothing is left for the vanquished and humbled hero but to offer her what atonement he can. He hands her his sword, bidding her this time wield it surely and not let it fall from her hand. But she has not yet finished with him:

_Is_. How badly I should serve thy lord! What would King Marke say if I were to slay his best servant who has preserved for him crown and realm? ... Keep thy sword! I swung it once when vengeance was rife in my bosom, while thy measuring glance was stealing my image to know whether I should be a fit bride for King Marke. I let the sword fall. Now let us drink atonement.

The motive of the drink of death is here heard in trombones and tuba. It recurs constantly in the following portion.

She then signs to Brangäne to bring the drink. The noise of the sailors furling the sails outside becomes louder.

_Tr_. (_starting from a reverie_). Where are we?

_Is_. CLOSE TO THE PORT! (_death-motive_). Tristan, shall I have atonement? What hast thou to answer?

_Tr_. (_darkly_). The mistress of silence commands me silence. I grasp what she conceals, and am silent upon what she cannot grasp.

Another dark saying, of which, however, we fortunately have the explanation from Wagner himself. "What she conceals" is her love for Tristan; "what she cannot grasp" is that his honour forbids him from declaring his love for her.[39]

[Footnote 39: Glasenapp's Biography, v. 241 (footnote).]

Even now, on the brink of dissolution, while actually holding the cup which is to launch them both into eternity, Isolde cannot bridle her sarcasm:

_Is_. We have reached the goal; soon we shall stand ... (_with light scorn_) before King Marke! (_death-motive_).

With dreadful irony she repeats the words with which she supposes Tristan will introduce her:

"My lord and uncle! look now at her! A softer wife thou ne'er could'st find. I slew her lover and sent her his head; my wound the kindly maid has healed. My life was in her power, but the gentle maiden gave it to me; her country's shame and dishonour--that she gave as well; all that she might become thy wedded bride. Such thanks for kindly deeds I earned by a sweet draught of atonement offered to me by her favour in expiation of my guilt."

_Sailors_ (_outside_). Stand by the cable! Let go the anchor!

_Tr_. (_starting wildly_). Let go the anchor! Veer her round to the tide! (_he tears the cup from Isolde's hand_). Well know I Ireland's queen, and the wondrous might of her arts. I took the balsam she once gave to me; now I take the cup that quite I may recover. Mark well the oath of peace in which I say my thanks:

To Tristan's honour--highest faith! To Tristan's woe--bold defiance![40]

Delusion of the heart; dream of presage; sole comfort of eternal sorrow; kind drink of forgetfulness I drink thee without flinching (_he puts the cup to his lips and drinks_).

_Is_. (_tearing the cup from him_). Treachery again. Half is mine! Traitor, I drink to thee! (_she drinks and dashes the cup to the earth_).

[Footnote 40: "Ehre" and "Elend" are dative.]

Instead of falling dead, the lovers stand transfixed gazing at each other. Brangäne has changed the drinks, and they have drunk the draught of love for that of death. Wagner sometimes expects his artists to possess powers beyond those which are allotted to man. The actors have here to express by gesture the change of feeling which gradually comes over them. They start, tremble, the love-motive steals into and at last dominates the orchestra, and they fly into one another's arms.

The increasing commotion outside and the cheers of the men indicate that King Marke has put out from the shore and is nearing the ship. An aside of Brangäne at this moment is not without significance. She has been sitting apart in suspense and confusion; now, as she begins to realize the consequences of what she has done, she gives way to despair. How much better would a short death have been than the prospect of the life that is now before them! The fact of her courage giving way so soon shows that she was only acting under a momentary impulse.

Little more need be said of the rest of the scene. The lovers raise their voices in a jubilant duet. Almost unconscious of their surroundings they are dragged apart. The royal garments are hastily laid over them, and the curtain falls to the joyful shouts of the people as King Marke steps on board.