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diff --git a/27265.txt b/27265.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fb280cc --- /dev/null +++ b/27265.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12481 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wagnerian Romances, by Gertrude Hall + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Wagnerian Romances + +Author: Gertrude Hall + +Release Date: November 15, 2008 [EBook #27265] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WAGNERIAN ROMANCES *** + + + + +Produced by Robert J. Hall + + + + +[Illustration: THE LAST PHOTOGRAPH OF RICHARD WAGNER] + + +THE WAGNERIAN ROMANCES + + +BY + +GERTRUDE HALL + + +NEW YORK: JOHN LANE COMPANY, MCMVII + +LONDON: JOHN LANE, THE BODLEY HEAD + + +_To_ + +_My Friend_ + +JOHN SANBURN PHILLIPS + +_this book_ + +_is_ + +_gratefully dedicated._ + + + + +INTRODUCTION + +The attempt has been made in the following to give an idea of the +charm and interest of the original text of the Wagner operas, of +Wagner's extraordinary power and fertility as a dramatist. It is +not critique or commentary, it is presentation, picture, narrative; +it offers nothing that is not derived directly and exclusively +from the Wagner libretti and scores. + +The stories of the operas are widely known already, of course. +As literature, however, one may almost say they are not known at +all, unless by students of German. The translators had before them +a task so tremendous, in the necessity to fit their verse-rendering +of the master's poetry to extremely difficult music, that we respect +them for achieving it at all. None the less must the translations +included in our libretti be pronounced painfully inadequate. To +give a better, more complete knowledge of the original poems is +the object of these essays. The poems form, even apart from the +music, a whole beautiful, luminous, romantic world. One would not +lose more by dropping out of literature the Idylls of the King +than the Wagnerian romances. + + + + +CONTENTS + +PARSIFAL +THE RING OF THE NIBELUNG + THE RHINE-GOLD + THE VALKYRIE + SIEGFRIED + THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS +THE MASTER-SINGERS OF NUREMBERG +TRISTAN AND ISOLDE +LOHENGRIN +TANNHAEUSER +THE FLYING DUTCHMAN + + +PARSIFAL + + +PARSIFAL + +I + +The story of the Holy Grail and its guardians up to the moment +of Parsifal's appearance upon the scene, is--we gather it from +Gurnemanz's rehearsal of his memories to the youthful esquires,--as +follows: At a time when the pure faith of Christ was in danger from +the power and craft of His enemies, there came to its defender, +Titurel, angelic messengers of the Saviour's, and gave into his +keeping the Chalice from which He had drunk at the Last Supper +and into which the blood had been gathered from His wounds as He +hung upon the Cross; likewise the Spear with which His side had +been pierced. Around these relics Titurel built a temple, and an +order of knighthood grew. The temple, Monsalvat, stood upon the +Northern slope of mountains overlooking Gothic Spain. No road led +to its doors, and those only could find their way to it whom the +Holy Spirit guided; and those only could hope to be so guided, +and could belong to the brotherhood, who were pure in heart and +clean of the sins of the flesh. The knights were mystically fed +and strengthened by the vision of the Chalice--which is called +the Grail; the duties of the Order were "high deeds of salvation," +comprehending warfare upon Christ's enemies, at home and in distant +lands. + +On the southern slope of the mountain, facing Moorish or heathen +Spain. Klingsor had gone into hermitage, in an attempted expiation +of evil committed down in the heathen world. What his sin had been, +Gurnemanz says, he knows not; but he aspired to become a holy man, +he wished to join the brotherhood of the Grail. Finding it impossible +to subdue sin in himself by the spirit, he sought, as it were, a +mechanical substitute for virtue, by which, however, he failed +to attain his object, for his sacrifice called forth from Titurel +only contempt, and he was rejected from the Order. He turned all +the strength of his rage then to acquiring black arts by which +to ruin the detested brotherhood. On the southward mountainside, +he created by sorcery a wonderful pleasure-palace and garden, in +which uncannily beautiful women grew. This lay in the path of the +knights of the Grail, a temptation and a trap, and one so effectual +that he who permitted himself to be lured into it was lost; there +had been no exception, safety lay singly in avoidance. Titurel +having reached so great an age that he had no longer strength to +perform the service of the Grail, invested with the kingly office +Amfortas, his son. The latter undertook at once the removal of +the standing danger to his knights, the destruction of Klingsor. +Armed with the Sacred Spear, he fared forth.... Alas! even before +the walls of the enchanted castle had been reached, his followers, +among whom Gurnemanz, missed him. A woman of dreadful beauty had +ensnared him. In her arms he forgot everything, he let the Spear drop +from his hand.... A great cry, as of one mortally hurt, Gurnemanz +relates, was suddenly heard. He rushed to the rescue, and caught +sight of Klingsor, laughing as he disappeared carrying the Spear, +with which he had wounded Amfortas. And now, possessed of the Spear, +it was Klingsor's boast that he should soon be in possession of the +Chalice likewise, the Holy Grail itself. And the wound of Amfortas +would not heal, and an apprehension was that never could it heal, +save at the touch of the Spear which made it. And this, who could +conquer it back? Yet the knights were not wholly without hope, for, +Amfortas once praying before the despoiled sanctuary, and imploring a +sign of pardon, a holy dream-face had appeared to him and delivered +the dim but comforting oracle: "Wise through compassion.... The +immaculate Fool.... Await him.... My appointed one...." + +Thus matters stand when the curtain rises for us upon the forest +surrounding the Castle of the Grail. The introductory music is +wholly religious, composed principally of the so moving phrase +of the Last Communion, the Grail-motif and the Faith-music. The +latter opens with what has the effect of a grand declaration, as +if it might be understood to say: "I believe in God the Father! +I believe in God the Son! I believe in God the Holy Ghost!" and +fell to worshipping prayer. + +The grey-haired Gurnemanz and two young boys of the Order are discovered +sleeping. At the clarion-call from the Castle, they start awake and +kneel at their morning devotions. The lake is near where the sick +King is carried daily for the bath. Forerunners of his cortege +pass, and are questioned by Gurnemanz concerning his condition. No, +the healing herb, obtained at such price of courage and cunning, +has not helped him. (For, though their drugs prove still and ever +useless, the devoted followers will not give up the search for +earthly relief.) This discouraged answer is hardly given, when another +appears who has been ranging afar in search of a remedy--Kundry, +arriving like the whirlwind, on a mare that staggers reaching the +goal. Spent with speed, the strange wild woman totters to Gurnemanz +and presses on him a crystal phial: Balsam! If this does not help, +Arabia holds nothing more from which health can be hoped! Felled +by fatigue, she drops on the ground, refusing any further speech. +When the king is now brought in upon a litter and halts on his +way to the lake for a moment's rest, receiving from Gurnemanz the +balsam, he thanks the woman, as one who has often before done him +such service. She rejects his thanks roughly, as if almost they +hurt: "No thanks! No thanks! What good will it do? Away! Away! +To the bath!" + +The young esquires, lingering after the king has been borne onward, +eye her as she lies on the ground like a wild beast, and voice +their suspicion of her, founded, after the fashion of youth's +judgements, upon her looks. They believe those potions of hers +will finally destroy the king altogether. Gurnemanz checks them, +reminding them heatedly of her services, beyond all that any other +could perform. "Who, when we are at loss how to send tidings to +brethren warring in distant lands, we scarcely even know where,--who, +before we have come to any resolve, flies to them and returns, +having acquitted herself of the task aptly and faithfully?..." +"But," they object, "she hates us! See how malignantly she glowers +at us! She is a heathen, a sorceress!" "One she may be, perhaps, +labouring under a curse," Gurnemanz goes thus far with them; "she +lives here, it may be, a penitent, to expiate some unforgiven sin +of her earlier life." He tells how, so long ago as at the time +of the building of the temple, Titurel first found her among the +tangled growth of the forest, rigid in death-like sleep. "I myself," +he continues, "discovered her but recently in the like condition. +It was soon after the calamity had befallen, brought upon us by +the evil one over the mountain." And turning to Kundry, as if the +thought had but just occurred: "Hey! Tell me, you! Where were you +roaming when our master lost the Spear?" The woman gazes gloomily, +and preserves a silence which we afterwards see to be significant. +"Why did you not help us at that time?" "I never help!" she exclaims +darkly, and turns away. "If she is as faithful as you say, and as +daring, and full of resource," suggests ironically one of the young +esquires, "why not send her after the lost Spear?" "That!" Gurnemanz +replies sadly, "is another matter. That nobody can achieve!" And, +the memory of the past rising strong within him, he relates to the +questioning young fellows, new in the brotherhood and ignorant of its +history, the events set down in their order a little way back. He +has repeated to them the mysterious promise of help: "Wise through +compassion.... The immaculate Fool.... Await him.... My appointed +one...." And they, impressed, are saying it after him, when, at the +words "_Der reine Thor_," the pure--the clean-lived--the immaculate +Fool, a commotion develops in the direction of the lake-side, cries +of "Woe! A pity! A shame! Who did it?" A great wild swan flies +in sight, sinks to earth hurt to death by an arrow, and the king's +esquires bring in, chiding and accusing him, a tall, innocent-eyed, +fresh-cheeked boy, armed with bow and arrows,--Parsifal. Rustic +enough is his outfit, but his bearing unmistakably that of the +high-born, as Gurnemanz does not fail to remark. A sturdy, brave, +gay-hearted strain has ushered him in, and for just a moment he +stands quite like a brother of Siegfried's, fearless, unconscious +of himself, as ignorant of the world as he is unspotted by it, but +engagingly wide-awake, serene in watching its mysterious actions. +"Are you the one who killed the swan?" Gurnemanz asks him sternly. +And he answers, unabashed, quite as Siegfried might have done: +"Certainly! Whatever flies I shoot on the wing!" But at once after +this the difference between the two is manifest. To both whole +regions of emotion are unknown, but certain emotions which are +outside the nature of one, are potentially the very strongest in +the other. Siegfried is not pitiful. The strong, radiant being +is incomplete on that side, so that the Christian heart winces +a little, here and there, at the bright resoluteness with which +he pursues his course when it involves, for instance, death to +the little foster-father, unrighteous imp though he be, or horror +to Bruennhilde, captured by violence and offered to his friend. +Whereas Parsifal, when Gurnemanz now makes plain to him the cruelty +of his thoughtless action, when he points out the glazing eye, +the blood dabbling the snowy plumage of the noble swan, faithful +familiar of the lake, killed as he circled in quest of his mate, +is seized with a passion of realizing pity, impulsively breaks +and flings from him his bow, and hides his eyes from the work of +his hands. "How--how could you commit such a wrong?" Gurnemanz +pursues unrelenting, even after these expressions of contrition. +"I did not know," Parsifal answers. Then to the amazement of all +are revealed the most extravagant ignorance and simplicity ever met. +"Where do you come from?" "I do not know." "Who is your father?" +"I do not know." "Who directed you here?" "I do not know." "What is +your name?" "I have had many, but no longer remember any of them." +"Truly," grumbles Gurnemanz, "I have so far never in my life met +with any one so stupid--except Kundry." Very sagely, he leaves off +questioning the fool; but when the others, after reverently taking +up the dead swan, have departed with it for burial, he addresses +him: "Of all I have asked you, you know nothing. Now tell me what +you do know! For it can hardly be but that you know something." +Whereupon very simply and obediently the boy begins: "I have a +mother. Her name is Herzeleide. (Heart's-sorrow.) We lived in the +woods and on the wild moor...." And it appears from his own ingenuous +narrative and the additions of Kundry, who in her rangings has +seemingly had opportunities to watch him, that he is the son of +the hero Gamuret, slain in battle before his birth, and that, in +terror of a like early death for him, his mother has reared him in +solitude, far from arms and reports of war, in absolute ignorance +of the world. One day, he tells in joyous excitement, bright-gleaming +men passed along the forest's edge, seated upon splendid animals; +his instant wish was to be like them, but they laughed and galloped +away. He ran after them, but could not overtake them. Up hill and +down dale he travelled, for days and nights. With his bow he was +compelled to defend himself against wild beasts and huge men.... +"Yes!" throws in Kundry eagerly, as if at the recollection of splendid +fights witnessed, "he made his strength felt upon miscreants and +giants. They were all afraid of the truculent boy!" He turns upon +her a vaguely pleased wonder: "Who is afraid of me? ... Tell me!" +"The wicked!" He seems trying to grasp a wholly new idea presented +to him. "Those who threatened me were wicked? Who is good?" Gurnemanz +in reply reminds him of his mother, who is good, and from whom +he has run away; she no doubt is seeking him in sorrow. Kundry +brusquely interrupts: "Her sorrow is ended. His mother is dead!" +And, at his incredulous cry of horror: "I was riding past and saw +her die. She bade me take to you, fool, her last blessing." Parsifal +springs upon this bearer of evil tidings with the instinctive attempt +to shut off the breath that could frame such terrible words. Gurnemanz +forcibly disengages her, and, overpowered by the shock and weight of +his pain, Parsifal sinks in a swoon. Tenderly at once both servants +of the Grail care for him. Kundry hastens for water with which to +wet his temples, and, as he revives, offers him drink. Gurnemanz +is struck by the magnanimity of her action. "That is right," he +nods his approval, "that is in accordance with the gracious spirit +of the Grail. We banish evil when we return good for it." Kundry +turns sadly away: "I never do good! ... All I desire is rest!... +Rest!" And while Gurnemanz is still occupied with restoring Parsifal, +she slowly walks, as if powerfully drawn and intensely resisting, +toward a tangled copse. She appears struggling with inexpressible +weariness; the music gives a hint of something unnatural and evil +in the spell of sleep falling leadenly upon her, expressing at +the same time an irresistible element in it of attraction. The +dark, wild-haired messenger of the Grail, the despised subordinate, +suddenly assumes to our sense a much greater importance than up +to this moment. Her personality looms large with an unexplained +effect of tragedy. "Only rest! Rest for the weary one!" she murmurs +yearningly; "sleep! Oh, let nobody wake me!" Terror checks her for +a moment: "No! No! I must not sleep!" she shudders, "I am afraid!" +She falls to violent trembling. But whatever it is compelling her is +too strong at last. Her arms fall unnerved, her head bows languidly, +and she moves feebly whither she is drawn. "Useless resistance! +... The hour is come. Sleep.... Sleep.... I must!" Having reached +the thicket she drops on the earth among the bushes. + +The sun is now high, the king is borne homeward from the bath. The +thought has struck Gurnemanz that here under his hands is surely +as exquisite a _Thor_ as could well be, and the experiment suggests +itself of taking him to the temple, where, as he tells him, if he +be pure, the Grail will be to him meat and drink. He places the +arm of the still strengthless youth about his neck, and gently +upholds him as they start on their way. "Who is the Grail?" asks +Parsifal, as they walk. "That may not be put into words," replies +Gurnemanz, "but, if you are of the chosen, you cannot fail to learn. +And, see now! I believe I know who you are. No road leads through +the land to the Grail, and no one could find the way except Itself +guided him...." "I am scarcely moving," says the wondering boy, +"yet it seems to me we have already gone a long way...." + +And, indeed, the forest has been miraculously gliding past. It ends +before a granite wall in which a great portal stands open. This +gives entrance into ascending rocky galleries; sounds of clarions +come stealing to the ear; church-bells are heard--and we are presently +translated into the interior of the Castle of the Grail, the great +domed hall. + +Parsifal entering with Gurnemanz stops still beside the threshold, +spell-bound in presence of all the lofty beauty: "Now watch with +attention," his guide instructs him, before leaving him where he +stands, "and let us see, if you are a simple soul and pure, what +light shall be vouchsafed you." + +The scene now enacting itself before him is well calculated to +strike the imagination of the boy from the lonely moors. The knights +of the Grail, beautiful in their clear robes, enter in procession, +chanting. When they cease, the singing is taken up by younger voices, +of personages unseen up in the dome, and, after them, by children's +voices from the airy summit of the dome, floating, angelic. The +wounded king is brought in on his litter, and laid upon the high +canopied seat before the altar, upon which the shrine is placed +enclosing the Grail. The knights have ranged themselves along tables +prepared with silver goblets. In the silence of recollection which +falls upon all, a voice is heard, as if from the grave: "My son +Amfortas, are you at your post?" It is the aged Titurel, whose +resting-place is a recess behind the altar and the raised seat. +There he is kept alive solely by the contemplation of the Grail, +mystical means of life and strength. "Are you at your post? Shall I +look upon the Grail once more and live?" But long-gathering despair +to-day reaches its climax in Amfortas, at the necessity to perform +the rite required. The torture to him cannot be measured of the +vision which creates ecstasy in the others. "Woeful inheritance +fallen to me!" he complains, in his passion of revolt against this +divine infliction, "that I, the only sinner among all, should be +condemned to be keeper of holiest holies, and call down blessings +upon those purer than I!" But the worst of his anguish is still +that when the holy blood glows in the Cup, and, in sympathy, the +blood gushes forth anew from the wound in his side--the wound made +by the same Spear--the consciousness ever returns to burning life +that, whereas those holy drops were shed in a heavenly compassion +for the misery of man, these are unregenerate blood, hot with sinful +human passion and longing, which no chastening has availed to drive +out. The wretched king is praying for the mercy of deliverance +through death, when, from the high dome, the words rain softly of +the promise of redemption--through the Fool. Recovering courage, +Amfortas proceeds with the rite. While he kneels in prayer before +the Chalice, which young acolytes have taken from the shrine and +reverently uncovered, a mysterious darkness gathers over all. A +ray of light suddenly falls through this, upon the Chalice, which +begins softly to glow, and brightens to a deep luminous purple-red. +Amfortas lifts it and waves it over the kneeling people. The words +of the Last Communion are heard, sung by the soaring voices in +the dome: "Take my body--Take my blood--For the sake of our love! +Take my blood--Take my body--And remember me!" + +The ceremony accomplished, Amfortas sets down the Cup, which begins +to pale; as it fades, the twilight lightens. When the common light +of day has completely returned, the knights sit down to the repast of +consecrated Bread placed for them, and Wine poured, by the acolytes. +At the end of it, they earnestly grasp one another's hands in renewal +of their bond of brotherhood. + +Amfortas is perceived to be suffering from the renewed bleeding +of his wound. He is laid upon the litter once more and borne away. +The knights depart in orderly procession, the hall is gradually +deserted. + +Parsifal remains standing on the same spot. He has hardly moved, +except, when Amfortas's anguished cry rang out, to clutch at his +heart. Gurnemanz, when he sat down at the table with the other +knights, signed to him to come and share in the holy feast, but +he did not stir. The impression can be apprehended of the solemn +scene upon the white page of the boy's mind. A spirit of religion +has breathed through it all, so exalted, so warm, so personal; the +passionate mediaeval Christianity which expressed itself in crusades +and religious orders and knight-errantry. The cry of the Saviour +(_Erloesung's Held_, Hero of Redemption, the poet characteristically +calls him) has rung so piercingly, there seems but one answer from +a humanly constituted simple heart: "Did you indeed suffer so much +and die for love of me and my brothers? How then can I the most +quickly spend and scatter all my strength and blood in gratitude +to you?" Parsifal has brought to these things a consciousness not +blurred and overscored by worldly knowledge and desires, a native +capacity for love of others uninterfered with by the developed +consideration of self. His fresh instinct has gathered the meaning +of what he sees, novel to him as it is; "wise through compassion," +he has gotten the measure and character perfectly of Amfortas's +sufferings, foreign as they are to his experience; he has gotten +the spirit of the facts of Christ. One especial message, over and +above the rest, he has received to himself, shot into his heart +upon a ray from the glowing Grail held before his gaze by Amfortas: +that the Saviour embodied in the Grail must be delivered from the +sin-sullied hands now holding it. He has seemed to hear the appeal +of the Saviour, poignant, to be so delivered. He is left, when +the vision fades, with the sense of this necessity--involving for +himself, though he knows not how, a duty and a quest: Amfortas +must be healed, the Sacred Treasure must be taken into keeping +by purer hands. + +Gurnemanz approaches him hopefully: "Well, did you understand what +you saw?" But Parsifal, still in his trance of wonder, only shakes +his head. It is too deep for words, what he has felt. + +To Gurnemanz he now seems a hopeless and unprofitable fool, who +has no place in the noble company. "You are a fool, it is a fact, +and you are nothing else!" he declares. Opening a side-door, he +without further ceremony pushes him out by the shoulders, with a +sour little joke: "Take my advice: Let the swans alone hereafter, +and, gander that you are, find yourself a goose!" As he turns from +the door, there falls from above, as if some echo of it had clung +to the high dome after all the singers had left, the strain: "Wise +through compassion.... The immaculate fool...." + +II + +The next change of scene shows the interior of the tower where +Klingsor practises his dark arts. A strain already known catches our +attention (the Sorcery-motif), and we become aware what influences +were at work in Kundry when her weariness succumbed to the lure of +sleep, what mesmeric call from Klingsor's hotly blooming, godless +pleasure-seat. The Klingsor-music introducing the second act stands +in picturesque contrast to the tender and thoughtful music opening +the first; curiously suggesting, as it does, lawlessness, cold evil +passions riding the soul hideously at a gallop. It has something vaguely +in common with portions of the Venus-music in Tannhaeuser,--perhaps +its effect at once unbridled and joyless. + +The sorcerer has from the battlements seen Parsifal approaching, +who, thrust out from the Castle of the Grail, had, by the peculiar +magic of the place, found the path to it obliterated. He had come +forth with the exalted but undefined sense of a great task to perform. +But, even as the road to the Castle of the Grail was difficult to +find, the road to Klingsor's castle was easy and overeasy; it would +seem that for the feet of a votary of the Grail all roads led to +it. Parsifal had seen it shining afar, and with childish shouts of +delight is drawing near. Klingsor, divining in him an enemy more +than usual dangerous, resorts, to make his ruin altogether sure, +to what are his supreme methods. He calls to his assistance once more +the ally by whose help the great Amfortas had been vanquished. With +mysterious passes and burning of gums, he summons that Formidable +Feminine: "Nameless one!... Most ancient of Devils!... Rose of +Hell!... Herodias!..." and amid the blue smoke-wreathes, uttering +the wail of a slave haled to the market-place, rises the form of +Kundry. She appears like one but half roused from the torpour of +sleep, and struggling with a terrible dream, or resisting some +terrible reality. All the answer she can give to his first words of +ironical congratulation, is in broken exclamations: "Oh! Oh! Deep +night.... Madness... Oh, wrath! Oh, misery!... Sleep! Sleep! Deep +sleep!... Death!..." and, in a subsequent outburst: "The curse!... +Oh, yearning!... Yearning!..." + +Her history and hints of her extraordinarily complex personality +are to be gathered from the scene following and the scene later, +with Parsifal. The mysterious messenger of the Grail was anciently +Herodias, and meeting with the Man of Sorrows, she laughed. "Then," +she herself relates, "He turned His eyes upon me...." Under the +curse involved in her action and the remorse generated by that +divine look, she cannot die, but goes, as she describes it, seeking +Him from world to world, to meet His eyes again. She tries in every +manner to expiate her sin, by service to others, by subjugation of +self, but the old nature is still not well out of her, the nature +of Herodias, and, at intervals, an infinite weariness of welldoing +overtakes her, a revival of the passions of her old life, and with +the cessation of struggle against them she falls into a death-like +sleep. In this condition, as if it represented a laying-off of the +armour of righteousness, her spirit is at the mercy of the powers +of evil. The necromancer Klingsor can conjure it up and force it +to his own uses. + +In the centuries she has lived, she has borne many names. She has +but recently been the temptress of Amfortas, and at the reassumption +of the higher half of her dual nature, has, as the servant and +messenger of the Grail, striven to make amends, as far as she might, +for the mischief done by her in her other state. The curse under +which she lives has peculiar laws of its own, of which we just +vaguely feel the moral basis. In her character of temptress, while +desiring with intensity, in her Herodias part, the surrender of +the man to whose seduction she applies herself, yet with the other +side of her, the side of the penitent, which never quite slumbers, +she even more ardently and fundamentally desires his victory over +her arts, for, with her own frustration, she would be delivered from +her curse, she could die; from the enormous fatigue of centuries +of tormented earthly existence, find rest. Which is to say, perhaps, +that if once more she could meet and look into the eyes of complete +strength and purity, see an adequate approach to the Christ-spirit +shining out of whatsoever eyes, her redemption, so painfully worked +toward through centuries of alternate effort and relapse, would +be consummated; at that encounter, renewing, or confirming, faith +in the existence of perfect goodness, the evil within her, so long +vainly fought, would die, and her long trial be at end. So she +approaches every new adventure with, under her determined wiles, +the hope of failure; and when her subject is still and ever found +weak in her hands, experiences despair. And when a hero such as +Amfortas, undertaken with the undercurrent sense that he perhaps is +the unconquerable, whose resistance shall make him her deliverer, +vulgarly falls in her arms, the triumph of one side of her nature, +and the despair of the other, express themselves in terrible laughter. +The fruit of her experience with man is, as it affects the two +sides of her, a mixture of sinister cynicism and ineffable pity. +"Woe! Woe!" she laments, at Klingsor's mocking mention of Amfortas. +"Weak, he too! Weak--all of them! Through me, to my curse, all +lost as I am lost! Oh, eternal sleep, only balm, how, how shall +I win you?" + +One can suppose in this Kundry, setting aside all details of personal +history, an intended personification of the +abstraction--(_Namenlose_,--Nameless One,) Eternal Feminine, with, +set in the high light, two of her broad traits, the best perhaps and +the worst: the passion for serving, tending, protecting, mothering, +and the passion for subduing man, proving herself more powerful +than the stronger, by remorseless practice upon his point of least +strength. This inveterate spirit of seduction it must be which +Klingsor apostrophises as "Most Ancient of Devils," and "Rose of +Hell." + +The character of Kundry has many aspects, exhibited here and there +by a flash, but, when all is said, and before all else, what we are +watching is an upward-struggling human soul, whose storm-beaten +progress could never move us as it does did we not feel in her +simply our sister. + +We saw her, forspent, crawl into the thicket to sleep. Now, Klingsor +who can command her while in that state, has compelled her to him +to accomplish the undoing of Parsifal. The idea is to her, all +heavy and clogged with sleep, the personality of the _Gralsbotin_ +still in the ascendant, one of horror only. With wails of protest +at having been waked, and lamentation over what is proposed, she +refuses to obey, rejecting Klingsor's claim to be her master. Even +when he puts his request in the form of the suggestion: "He who +should defy you would set you free. Try it then with the boy at +hand!" she stubbornly refuses. "He is even now climbing the rampart!" +Klingsor persists. Kundry wrings her hands. "Woe! Woe! Have I waked +for this? Must I, indeed?... Must I?" At which first intimation +of weakening, Klingsor ceases to press his authority, and adopts +a different method of persuasion. Climbing to the battlement, he +describes the approaching figure: "Ha! He is beautiful, the boy!" +"Oh! Oh!" moans Kundry, "woe is me!" + +Klingsor blows his horn, to warn the garrison of the palace--the +host of the victims of folly, the lost knights--of the approaching +enemy. A commotion is heard of arms caught up in haste and of fighting; +Klingsor from his post follows the contest, with glee in the daring +of the beautiful boy, who has snatched the sword from one of his +assailants and with it, one against the swarm, is cutting his way +through them. Kundry, ceasing from her moans, has begun to laugh, +and as Klingsor continues his report of the skirmish laughs more and +more uncontrollably. "They yield, they flee, each of them carries +home his wound! Ha! How proudly he stands upon the rampart! How the +roses bloom and smile in his cheeks, as, in childlike amazement, +he gazes down upon the solitary garden! ... Hey! Kundry!" But with +her laughter ending in a scream, Kundry has abruptly vanished. +"What? Already at work?" muses Klingsor. "Ha ha! I knew the charm +which will always bring you back into my service!" Then turning +his attention once more to the youthful intruder filling his eyes +with the unimagined glories of the garden: "You there, fledgling! +Whatever prophecy may have had to say concerning you, too young +and green you have fallen into my power. Purity wrested from you, +you will become my willing subject!" + +The tower, with Klingsor, vanishes from sight; there lies outspread +before us the enchanted garden, glowing, tropical, displaying the +last luxuriance of flowers; and we see for ourselves Parsifal standing +upon the wall, calmly gazing. A swarm of beautiful young creatures, +waked by the clash of arms have, even as their lovers turned and fled +to cover, rushed forth to discover what is the matter. With confused +cries they pour from the palace and, recognising in Parsifal the +whole of the enemy, assail him with abuse scarcely more unendurable +than a pelting with thorny rose-buds. "You there! You there! Why +did you do us this injury? A curse upon you! A curse upon you!" +As Parsifal undismayed leaps down into the garden, they fall to +twittering like angry sparrows: "Ha! You bold thing! Do you dare to +brave us? Why did you beat our beloved?" And the raw boy, acquitting +himself rather neatly for such a beginner: "Ought I not to have beaten +them? They were barring my passage to you!" "You wanted to come to +us? Had you ever seen us before?" "Never had I seen anything so +pretty. I speak rightly, do I not, in calling you lovely?" A rapid +change takes place in the attitude toward him of the exceedingly +pretty persons. They adorn themselves in haste, fantastically, to +charm him, with the flowers of the garden; singing a wooing song, +of the most melting, persuasive, irresistible, they weave around +him, circling as in a child's game of ring-a-rosy, sweeping the +heady perfumes of their garlands under his nostrils. They do not +appear wholly human, but rather like strange tall-stemmed animated +flowers, swaying and jostling in the wind, and whose odor should have +turned into music; or, better still, like incarnate emanations from +the intoxicating flower-beds of this magical Garden of the Senses. +Parsifal stands in their midst, pleased and watchful, fleetingly +again like Siegfried, with his cheerful calm and poise. "How sweet +you smell! ... Are you flowers?" They close around him more and +more smotheringly, with caresses more and more pressing. He gently +pushes them away. "You wild, lovely, crowding flowers! If I am +to play with you, let me have room!" As they do not obey, and in +addition fall to quarrelling among themselves over him, half-vexed, +he repels them and is turning for retreat, when a voice is heard +from a blossoming thicket near-by: "Parsifal! Stay!..." The flowers, +startled, at once hold still. The youth stands still, too, struck. +_Parsifal_.... He remembers that as one of the names his mother +had called him by, once, as she lay asleep and dreaming. The voice +continues: "Here remain, Parsifal.... You simple light-o'-loves, +depart from him. Early withering flowers, he is destined to other +things than dalliance with you!" The flock of flowers, reluctantly, +lingering as long as they dare, withdraw, their last word one of +derision: "You beautiful one! You proud one! You... fool!" With +whispered laughter they vanish into the house, and Parsifal, in +the once more solitary garden, asks himself: "Was it all a dream?" + +For the first time touched with timidity, he turns towards the +blossoming bower from which the voice had come. The branches part, +and reveal Kundry, youthful, gorgeously apparelled and superlatively +beautiful, lying upon a flowery bank. "Did you mean the name you +spoke for me, who have no name?" Parsifal asks, standing shyly +apart. + +"I called you, guileless Innocent, Parsifal.... By this name your +father Gamuret, expiring in Arabian land, called his unborn son. +I have sought you here to tell you this...." + +"Never had I seen," sighs Parsifal, "never dreamed, such a thing +as I now see and am filled with awe!... Are you, too, a flower +in this garden of flowers?" "No, Parsifal. Far, far away is my +home. I came here only that you might find me. I came from distant +lands where I witnessed many things...." With the calm notes of +the Arch-enchantress, perfectly sure of her power, she unfolds to +him the story of his own past further back than he can remember, +which is of the things she professes to have ocularly witnessed,--his +life with Herzeleide; she relates the death of the latter from grief +over his loss. She takes him in hand with easy masterliness in +the art of reducing a youthful heart. She does not stint to appear +to one so boyish much older and very wise. Not one discomposing +word does she utter about love,--but she brings his heart to a +state of fusion by the picture of his mother's sorrowful end, and +when, overcome by anguish and remorse, he sinks at her feet with +the cry: "What have I done?... Sweetest, loveliest mother! Your +son, your son must bring about your death!..." she gently places +her arm about his neck and administers needed comfort: "Never before +had you known sorrow, and so have not known either the sweetness of +consolation. Let sorrow and regret be washed away in the consolation +proffered to you by Love!" But Parsifal, the compassionate, cannot +so soon be diverted from the rending thought of his mother, and +continues despite the fair arm on his neck and the balmy breath in +his hair, with his passionate self-reproach: "My mother! I could +forget my mother! Ha! What else have I forgotten? What, indeed, have +I ever remembered? Naught but utter folly dwells in me!" Kundry +again attempts setting him right with himself and offers the cheer: +"Acknowledgment of your fault will place a term to remorse. +Consciousness of folly will turn folly into sense...." Then, not +quite relevantly, "Learn to know the love which enfolded Gamuret +when Herzeleide's affection burningly overflowed,..." With the +assurance that she who gave him life now sends him as a mother's +last blessing the First Kiss of Love, she bends over him and places +her lips upon his in a prolonged Wagnerian kiss. The sorcery-motif +is heard weaving its unholy snare. Of a sudden, with an abruptness +as unexpected as it is disconcerting, Parsifal tears himself from +her embrace, leaps to his feet, and pressing his hands to his heart, +as if there were the seat of an intolerable pain, "Amfortas!" he +cries, staring like one who sees ghosts, "the wound! the wound!..." +That has been the effect of her kiss upon his innocence, to give him +sudden clairvoyance into her nature, to cast a lightning flash upon +the past. He feels himself for a moment identified with Amfortas, +whom the woman had kissed as she kissed him. Amfortas's wound burns +in his own side. Not only that: the sinful, disorderly, unsubduable +passion torturing Amfortas, for a moment tortures equally Parsifal, +whose nature is thrown by it into a horror of self-hatred, and casts +itself upon frenzied prayer for deliverance and pardon. Pardon, for +although this experience can be thought an effect of mysterious +insight, Parsifal recognises as a crime that he should be in these +circumstances at all. He remembers that he had known himself as +one marked for a sacred mission. He remembers the vision of the +Grail, and that the Saviour had seemed to speak from it to his +inmost soul: "Deliver me! Save me from sin-polluted hands!" "And +I," he groans, "the fool! the coward! I could rush to the insensate +exploits of a boy!" + +Kundry has been amazed and somewhat alarmed, but for a moment still, +as it appears, has not understood. She leaves her flowery couch +and approaches Parsifal, where he is kneeling in supplication to +the Lord of Mercy; with soft arts she attempts to reconquer his +attention, but with an effect wide of her expectation, for, while +she plies him with caresses, he is thinking, and we hear him think: +"Yes, that voice, even thus it fell upon his ear.... And that glance, +I recognise it clearly, which smiled away his peace.... So the +lip trembled for him. ... So the throat arched.... So the tresses +laughingly gleamed!... So the soft cheek pressed close against +his own,... and so, in league with all the sorrows, so her mouth +kissed away his soul's salvation!" As if the reinforcements from +Heaven, which he prayed, had suddenly reached him, he rises in +inspired strength, frees himself and thrusts her resolutely from +him: "Destroyer, away from me! Forever and ever away!" + +From this onward he is a different Parsifal, not in the least a +boy any more. It is as if in the storm which swept him he had found +himself, his anchorage and his strength. And now we gather that +Kundry really has had an inkling of what is at work in him. She +drops at once the fairly simple methods she has up to this used, and, +it is not quite clear at first whether still as a mighty Huntress, +discarding one weapon and taking another better adapted to bring +down the quarry, or at last in true earnest, she invokes--pressing, +not to be denied--his pity. She reveals--and it is as if beauty and +splendour should lift the veil from a hidden ulcer--her strange +history, the ancient sin, the curse upon her, the despair that is +denied tears and can only voice itself in laughter. "Since your +heart is capable only of feeling the sorrows of others," she pleads, +"feel mine!" In him, as he has become within the hour, she recognises +a deliverer, but, illogically, thirsts the more for his love. From +this figure with the firm, compassionate eyes and the exalted +self-possession, something breathes which associates him to her +sense with the figure, sought by her through the centuries, of +the derided Victim. She feels herself face to face once more with +the Christ-spirit. But the blind desire of her dual personality +is that pardon should wear the form of love. Parsifal, with every +moment more firmly established in his strength and purpose, replies +to her madness with a calm homily,--his theme, how from the springs +of passion flow waters of thirst. Words of wisdom, eternal truths, +drop from the so young lips of the fool. Kundry, who has listened +in wonder, exclaims: "So it was my kiss which gave you universal +vision! The full cup of my love then would make you to a god!" +and coming back eagerly to her point: "Deliver the world, if such +is your mission. If an hour can make you to a god, let me, for +that hour, suffer damnation...." "For you, too, sinner, I will +find salvation," is Parsifal's mild reply. "Let me love you in your +godlikeness, that shall be salvation for me!" "Love and salvation +both shall reward you, if you will show me the way to Amfortas!" + +It will have been remarked that Kundry in her singular role has +been playing fair; that, though life for her (which paradoxically +is death) depends upon failure, she has put forth her whole strength +in the temptation. But it is not at this juncture the penitent who +is in the ascendant, it is the evil side of Kundry, and at that +last request of Parsifal's, proving the vanity of her effort, a +great anger seizes her: "Never!" she cries, "never shall you find +him! The fallen king, let him perish! The wretch whom I laughed +and laughed and laughed at! Ha ha! Why--he was wounded with his +own spear.... And against yourself," she follows this, "I will +call to aid that weapon, if you give that sinner the honour of +your pity!" But, at the sound of her own words, her anger dropping: +"Ah, madness!... Pity! On me, do you have pity! One single hour +mine... and you shall be shown on your way!" With a renewal of +tenderness she attempts to clasp him; but at his abhorrent, "Unhappy +woman, away!" furious beside all bounds, she falls to shouting for +help against him, help to prevent his going. "Help! Here! Hold +the audacious one! Bar the roads against him! Bar the paths!..." +Then, addressing him in the blaze of her revengeful wrath: "And +though you should escape from here--and though you should find +all the roads in the world, the road which you seek you shall not +find! For all roads and paths which lead you away from me, I place +a curse upon them. Hopelessly--hopelessly shall you wander and +stray!..." + +At her wild summoning the women have come running into the garden; +Klingsor has appeared on the threshold, armed with the Spear. This, +with the words: "The Fool shall be transfixed with his Master's +Spear!" he hurls at Parsifal. But the Spear stands miraculously +poised above the youth's head. He grasps it, with a face of ecstasy, +and draws in the air a great figure of the Cross. "By this sign +I dispel your sorceries! As this Spear shall close the wound it +made, let this lying splendour fall to wreck and desolation!" As +if shaken by an earthquake, the palace crumbles to ruin; the garden +withers away and turns to a barren waste; like broken and wilted +flowers the women are seen bestrewing the ground; Kundry falls +to earth with a great cry. And Parsifal, departing, turns on the +ruined wall for a last word to her,--painfully she lifts her head +for a last look--"You know where, only, you may see me again!" +meaning, we are left to feel, a plane sooner than a place. + +III + +Again the Domain of the Grail, where, on the outskirts of the forest, +beside a spring, the old-grown Gurnemanz has built himself a hermit's +cell. It is long after and much is changed. There is sadness in +the air, but it is of an unfretful gentle sort, almost sweet; the +sadness of a solitude visited by high thoughts, memories of calamity +softened in retrospect, present crosses made supportable by faith +and the light cast on the path already of an approaching event +which is to mark a new epoch in the life of the Order. A sadness +in the air and a something holy. It is Spring-time and it is +Good-Friday; the trees are in blossom and the meadow at the forest's +edge is spotted with new flowers. We are never, through the first +part of the act, left unconscious for long of the sweetness of +surrounding nature and the hour; it comes like whiffs of perfume, +every now and then, reminding us that the earth has renewed herself +and the day is holy, until at last these stray intimations have +led to a clear and rounded statement in the Good-Friday Charm. + +Forth from his cell comes Gurnemanz, to be recognized as a knight +of the Grail only by the straight under-tunic of the Order. He has +heard a groan, not to be mistaken for the cry of a hurt animal. +As it is repeated, it strikes his ear as a sound known to him of +old. Anxiously searching among the matted thorn-trees, he discovers +Kundry, as once before, rigid and to all appearance dead. He chafes +and calls and brings her back to consciousness. She is the Kundry +of the first act, but so changed,--pale with the strained pallor +of one lately exorcised; the wildness and roughness all gone out +of her face, and in its place a strange rapt fixity; in her bearing +an unknown humility. In silence she recovers remembrance of the +facts of her existence; mechanically orders her hair and garments, +and without a word leaves Gurnemanz to set about the work of a +servant. As she is moving towards the hut, he asks: "Have you no +word for me? Is this my thanks for having waked you once more out +of the sleep of death?" And she brings forth brokenly the last +words she is heard to utter: "To serve!... To serve!..." the only +need now of her being. "How different her bearing is," Gurnemanz +muses, "from what it used to be! Is it the influence of the holy +day?" She brings from the cell a water-jar, and, gazing off into the +distance while it fills, sees among the trees some one approaching, +to which, by a sign, she calls Gurnemanz's attention. He marvels +at the figure in sable armour; but we, saddened and slowed as it +is, have recognized the Parsifal-motif heralding it. The sable +knight is faring slowly on his way, with closed helmet, bowed head +and lowered spear, unconscious of his observers, until, when he +drops on a grassy knoll to rest, Gurnemanz greets and addresses +him: "Have you lost your way? Shall I guide you?" Receiving no +answer to this or the questions which follow, save by signs of +the head, he with the bluffness we remember offers a reprimand: +"If your vow binds you not to speak to me, my vow obliges me to +tell you what is befitting. You are upon a consecrated spot, it +is improper here to go in armour, with closed helmet, with shield +and spear. And of all days upon this one! Do you not know what +holy day it is?" The knight gently shakes his head. "Among what +heathen have you lived, not to be aware that this is the most holy +Good-Friday? Lay down, forthwith, your arms! Do not offend the +Lord, who on this day, unarmed in very truth, offered His sacred +blood in atonement for the sins of the world!" The knight upon this, +still without a word, drives the haft of his spear into the ground, +lays down his arms and sinks upon his knees in prayer before the +Spear. The removal of his helmet has revealed the face of Parsifal, +but another Parsifal, even as Kundry is another. The stage-directions +have no word concerning it, but it must be in accordance with the +custom of Bayreuth that the latter Parsifal presents a resemblance +to the traditional representations of the Saviour; the idea being, +we must think, to indicate, stamped on the exterior man, this soul's +aspiration towards likeness with the Divine Pattern; or, perhaps, +visibly to state that here, too, is a gentle and selfless lover +of men, all of whose forces bent on a mission of deliverance. + +Gurnemanz, watching him attentively, recognises the slayer, long +ago, of the swan, the stupid boy whom he had turned out of the +temple. Then he recognises, too, the Spear. + +Parsifal, rising from his prayer, gazes quietly around him and +recognises Gurnemanz. To the question of the latter, how and whence +he comes, he replies: "I am come by ways of wandering and pain. +Can I believe myself at last delivered from them, since I hear +once more the rustle of this forest, and behold you, worthy elder? +Or am I still baffled in my search for the right road? Everything +looks changed...." "What road is it you seek?" Gurnemanz inquires. +"The road to him whose profound wail I heard of yore in wondering +stupidity, and the instrument of whose healing I now dare believe +myself elected to be...." All this long time he has vainly sought +the road back to the Grail, whether hindered by Kundry's curse, +or cut off by some stain left upon his nature from his brief hour +in the deadly garden, which must be cleansed by such prolonged +ordeal. He relates the desperate battle in all his wanderings to +keep safe the Sacred Spear,--which, behold, he is now bringing +home! Gurnemanz's joy bursts forth unbounded. Then he, too, makes +his friend even over the past. Since the day of his presence among +them, the trouble then revealed to him has increased to the last +point of distress. Amfortas, revolting against the torments of +his soul, and desiring naught but death, refuses to perform the +office of the Grail, by which his life would be prolonged. The +knights, deprived of their heavenly nourishment, deprived of a +leader, have lost their old strength and courage. They seek their +sustenance of herbs and roots, like the animals, in the forest. No +longer are they called to holy warfare in distant lands. Titurel, +unrenewed by the vision of the Grail, is dead.... At the relation +of these mournful events, grief assails Parsifal, who holds himself +responsible for all this wretchedness, by reason of his long-delayed +return, which he must regard as a consequence of sins and folly of +his own,--grief beyond what the human frame is fitted to endure, +and he is again swooning, as at the evil news in the first act. +Kundry hurries with water from the cell, but Gurnemanz stops her; +he has in thought larger purifications for the pilgrim in whom +his prophetic mind discerns one ordained to fulfill this very day +a sacred office. "So let him be made clean of all stain, let the +dust be washed from him of his long wandering." They ease him upon +the moss beside the consecrated spring, remove his greaves and +coat of mail. As he revives a little, he asks faintly: "Shall I +be taken to-day to Amfortas?" Gurnemanz assures him that he shall, +for on this day the burial of Titurel takes place, which Gurnemanz +must attend, and Amfortas has pledged himself, in honour of his +father, to uncover once more the Grail. Kundry during this, on +her knees, has been bathing the pilgrim's feet. He watches her, +at her devoted lowly task, in wonder: "You have washed my feet," +he speaks; "let now the friend pour water on my head!" Gurnemanz +obeys, besprinkling him with a baptismal intention. Kundry takes +from her bosom a golden phial, and, having poured ointment on his +feet, dries them, in the custom of the day when she was Herodias, +with her long hair; by this repetition of a famous act intending +perhaps to signify that she is a sinner and that he has raised +her from sin. "You have anointed my feet," speaks Parsifal again; +"let now the brother-at-arms of Titurel anoint my head, for on this +day he shall hail me as king." Whereupon Gurnemanz anoints him +as king. Kundry has been gazing with a devout hushed face. There +is no sign that he recognises her, but, as if his soul recognised +some quality of her soul, as if some need in her called to him, +he dips water from the sacred well and sprinkles her head: "My +first ministration shall be this: I baptize thee! Have faith in the +Redeemer!" And Kundry, the curse being lifted which had dried up +in her the fountain of tears, bows to the earth abundantly weeping. + +At this point it is that the vague waftures of sweetness which have +been fitfully soliciting us all through these scenes, concentrate +themselves and make their call irresistible. Parsifal becomes aware +of it. With his sense of the absolution from sin for both of them, +in baptism, invaded by deep peace, he gazes around him in soft +enchantment: "How more than usual lovely the meadows appear to +me to-day! True, I have known wonder-flowers, clasping me with +eager tendrils so high as my head; but never had I seen blades, +blossoms, flowers, so mild and tender, nor ever did, to my sense, +all nature give forth a fragrance so innocently sweet, or speak +to me with such amiable confidence!" "That," explains Gurnemanz, +"is Good-Friday's Charm...." "Alas!" wails Parsifal, "that day of +supreme agony! Ought not on this day everything which blooms and +breathes to be steeped in mourning and tears?" "You see," replies +Gurnemanz, "that it is not so. They are the sinners' tears of +repentance which today bathe meadow and plain with a holy dew; that +is why they look so fresh and fair. To-day all created things rejoice +upon the earth once trodden by the Saviour's feet, and wish to +offer Him their prayers. Beyond them it is to see Him upon the +Cross, wherefore they turn their eyes to redeemed man. Man feels +himself delivered from the burden and terror of sin, through God's +sacrifice of love made clean and whole. The grasses and flowers +become aware of this, they mark that on this day the foot of man +spares to trample them, that, even as God with a heavenly patience +bears with man and once suffered for his sake, man in pious tribute +treads softly to avoid crushing them. All creation gives thanks +for this, all the short-lived things that bloom; for to-day all +Nature, absolved from sin, regains her day of Innocence." The +exquisiteness of this passage, the Good-Friday Spell (_Charfreitag's +Zauber_), can hardly be conveyed; if one says the music is worthy +of the theme, one has but given a hint of the overearthly quality +of its sweetness. + +Kundry has slowly raised her head and fixed upon Parsifal her prayerful +wet eyes. Either from his recent contemplation of the flowery lea, +or some occult association of her personality with the past, the +flowers of Klingsor's garden come into his mind. "I saw them wither +who had smiled on me. May they not also be hungering for redemption +now?... Your tears, too, are turned to blessed dew.... You weep, +and see, the meadow blooms in joy!" He stoops and kisses her gently +upon the forehead. + +Bells are heard summoning the knights to the Castle. Gurnemanz +brings from the cell the mantle of a knight of the Grail, and places +it upon Parsifal's shoulders. Parsifal grasps the Spear, and the +three vanish from sight among the trees. Again, but from the opposite +direction, we approach the Castle; the sound of bells increases +as we pass through the granite portal and the vaulted corridors. +We are once more in the domed hall. All is as we left it, save +for the tables, which, become useless, are no longer there. Again +the doors open at the back and from each issues forth a company of +knights, the one bearing the bier of Titurel, the other carrying +the litter of Amfortas and the shrine of the Grail, while they chant, +in question and response, a song of reproachful tenor. "Whom do you +bring, with tokens of mourning, in the dark casket?" "The funereal +casket holds the hero into whose charge the very God entrusted +Himself. Titurel we bring." "Who slew him, whom God Himself held in +His care?" "The killing burden of age slew him, when he no longer +might behold the Grail." "Who prevented him from beholding the +glory of the Grail?" "He whom you carry, the sinful Keeper." The +latter they now urge to fulfill his promise of exposing the Grail, +and, deeply moved by the sight of his father's face and the outburst +of lamentation which follows the folding back of the pall from +it, he appears on the point of satisfying them; but, as in their +eagerness they hem him around with injunctions almost threatening, +he is seized with a revulsion once more against the task imposed on +him. He springs from his high seat and stands among them begging +that rather they will kill him. "Already I feel the night of death +closing around me, and must I be forced back into life? You demented! +Who shall compel me to live? Death alone it is in your power to +give!" He tears open his garment and offers his breast. "Forward, +heroes! Slay the sinner with his affliction! The Grail perchance +will glow for you then of Itself!" + +But the knights shrink away. Then it is that Parsifal, who with +Gurnemanz and Kundry has entered unnoticed, advances and with the +point of the Sacred Spear touches Amfortas's wound. "One weapon +alone avails. The wound can be closed only by the Spear which made +it. Be whole, pardoned and absolved, for I now hold the office in +your stead!" Amfortas's countenance of holy ecstasy proclaims the +instant virtue of the remedy. As Parsifal holds up to the enraptured +gaze of the knights the Spear which he has brought back to them, +the Parsifal-motif is heard again, for the last time, triumphant, +broad, and glorious. He proceeds to perform the rite which had +been the duty of Amfortas. A glory rains upon the altar. At the +glowing of the Grail, Titurel, returning for a moment to life, +lifts himself on his bier with a gesture of benediction. As Parsifal +moves the Chalice softly above the kneeling assembly, a white dove +descends from on high and floats above his head. Kundry, with her +eyes turned toward all these luminous things, sinks softly upon +the altar-steps, the life-giving Grail having given her life too, +in the form of desired death. With the interwoven Grail and Faith +and Spear music letting down as if a curtain of silver and azure +and gold, the poem closes. + +One has heard it objected, as at least strange, that when the search +after knowledge is so unquestionably meritorious, and study, as we +count it, one of the conditions of progress, and learning a lamp +to our feet, an ideal should be made of total ignorance, such as +Parsifal's. But surely the point is a different one. The point is +not Parsifal's ignorance--except, perhaps, in so far as it made +for innocence--but the qualities which he possessed, and which one +may possess, in spite of ignorance. It is a comparison of values +which is established. Through the object-lesson of Parsifal, Wagner +is saying, after his fashion and inversely, what Saint Paul says: +"Though I speak with the tongues of men and angels,... though I +have the gift of prophecy and understand all mysteries and all +knowledge,... and have not charity, I am nothing;... it availeth +me nothing." The supremacy of charity, love of others, is the point +illustrated. + +One tributary to the mighty stream of our interest in the opera +of Parsifal has its spring in the date of its appearance. It comes +as the poet's last word. What a procession of heroes has passed +before us--beautiful, brave, romantic,--how fit, every one, to +capture the imagination! Towering a little above the rest, Siegfried, +the _Uebermensch_, the Overman. But finally, with the effect of a +conclusion reached, a judgement, the hero whose heroism differs in +quality from that of the others, the lowly of heart, whose dominant +trait is _Mitleid_, compassion, sympathy with the woes of others, +who pities swans and women and the sinful and the suffering, and +gives his strength to helping them, and sanctifies himself for +their sake. + + +THE RHINE-GOLD + + +THE RHINE-GOLD + +In the beginning was the Gold,--beautiful, resplendent, its obvious +and simple part to reflect sunlight and be a joy to the eyes; +containing, however, apparently of its very nature, the following +mysterious quality: a ring fashioned from it would endow its possessor +with what is vaunted as immeasurable power, and make him master of +the world. This power shows itself afterwards undefined in some +directions and circumscribed in others, one never fully grasps +its law; one plain point of it, however, was to subject to the +owner of the ring certain inferior peoples and reveal to him the +treasures hidden in the earth, which he could force his thralls +to mine and forge and so shape that they might be used to buy and +subject the superior peoples, thus making him actually, if successful +in corruption, master of the world. + +But this ring could by no possibility be fashioned except by one +who should have utterly renounced love. + +For these things no reason is given: they were, like the Word. + +One feels an allegory. As the poem unfolds, one is often conscious +of it. It is well to hold the thread of it lightly and let it slip +as soon as it becomes puzzling, settling down contentedly in the +joy of simple story. The author himself, very much a poet, must +be supposed to have done something of the sort. He does not follow +to any trite conclusion the thought he has started, he has small +care for minor consistencies. Large-mindedly he drops what has +become inconvenient, and prefers simply beauty, interest, the story. +Thus his personages have a body, and awaken sympathies which would +hardly attach to purely allegorical figures; a charm of livingness +invests the world he has created. + +The Gold's home was in the Rhine, at the summit of a high, pointed +rock, where it caught the beams of the sun and shed them down through +the waves, brightening the dim water-world, gladdening the water-folk. +That was its sole use, but for thus making golden daylight in the +deep it was worshipped, besung, called adoring names, by nixies +swimming around it in a sort of joyous rite. + +The mysterious potentiality of the gold was known to the Rhine-god; +three of his daughters had been instructed by him, and detailed +to guard the treasure. Some faculty of divination warned him of +danger to it, and of the quarter from whence this danger threatened. +But nixies--even when burdened by cares of state--are just nixies; +those three seem to have lived to laugh before all else--to laugh +and chase one another and play in the cool green element, singing +all the while a fluent, cradling song whose sweetness might well +allure boatmen and bathers. + +Below the Rhine lay Nibelheim, the kingdom of mists and night, +the home of the Nibelungs,--dark gnomes, dwarfs, living in the +bowels of the earth, digging its metals, excelling in cunning as +smiths. + +The Rhine did not continue flowing water quite down to its bed; +the boundary-line of Nibelheim seems to have been just above it; +the water there turned to fine mist; among the rough rocks of the +river-bed were passages down into the Under-world. + +Up through one of these, one day before sunrise, while the Rhine +was melodiously thundering in its majestic course--they are the +Rhine-motifs which open the piece,--came clambering, by some chance, +the Nibelung Alberich. His night-accustomed eyes, as he blinked +upward into the green light, were caught by a silvery glinting of +scales, flashes of flesh-pink and floating hair. The Rhine-maidens, +guardians of the gold, were frolicking around it; but this did not +appear, for the sun had not yet risen to wake it into radiance. +The dwarf saw just a shimmering of young forms, was touched with +a natural desire, and called to them, asking them to come down +to him, and let him join in their play. + +At the sound of the strange voice and the sight of the strange +figure, Flosshilde, a shade more sensible than her sisters, cries +out to them: "Look to the gold! Father warned us of an enemy of +the sort!" and the three rally quickly around the treasure. But it +soon appears that the stranger is but a dark, small, hairy, ugly, +harmless-seeming, amorous creature, uttering his wishes very simply. +The watch over the gold is relinquished, and a little amusement +sought in tantalizing and befooling the clumsy wooer. + +Alberich, later a figure touched with terror and followed with +dislike, is likeable in this scene, almost gentle, one's sympathies +come near being with him. The music describes him awkward and heavy, +slipping on the rocks, sneezing in the wet; a note of protest is +frequent in his voice. All the music relating to him, now or later, +is joyless, whatever beside it may be. + +The sisters have their fun with the poor gnome, whose innocence of +nixies' ways is apparent in the long time it is before all reliance +in their good faith leaves him. Woglinde invites him nearer. With +difficulty he climbs the slippery rocks to reach her. When he can +nearly touch her--he is saying, "Be my sweetheart, womanly child!"--she +darts from him. And the sisters laugh their delicious inhuman laugh. +Woglinde then plunges to the river-bed, calling to Alberich, "Come +down! Here you surely can grasp me!" He owns it will be easier for +him down there, and lets himself down, when the sprite rises, light +as a bubble, to the surface. He is calling her an impudent fish +and a deceitful young lady, when Wellgunde sighs, "Thou beautiful +one!" He turns quickly, inquiring naively, "Do you mean me?" She +says, "Have nothing to do with Woglinde. Turn sooner to me!" He is +but too willing, vows that he thinks her much the more beautiful +and gleaming, and prays she will come further down. She stops short +of arm's-length. He pours forth his elementary passion. She feigns +a wish to see her handsome gallant more closely. After a brief +comedy of scanning his face, with insulting promptness she appears +to change her mind, and with the unkindest descriptive terms slipping +from his grasp swims away. And again rings the chorus of malicious +musical laughter. Then the cruellest of the three, Flosshilde, takes +the poor swain in hand. She not only comes down, she allows herself +to be held, she wreathes her slender arms around him, presses him +tenderly and flatters him in music well calculated to daze with +delight. He is not warned by her words, as, while they sit embraced, +she says, "Thy piercing glance, thy stubborn beard, might I see +the one, feel the other, forever! The rough locks of thy prickly +hair, might they forever flow around Flosshilde! Thy toad's shape, +thy croaking voice, oh, might I, wondering and mute, see and hear +them exclusively for ever!" It is the sudden mocking laughter of +the two listening sisters which draws him from his dream--when +Flosshilde slips from his hold, and the three again swim merrily +around, and laugh, and when his angry wail rises call down to him +to be ashamed of himself! But not even then do they let him rest; +they hold forth new hopes, inviting and exciting him to chase them, +till fairly aflame with love and wrath he begins a mad pursuit, +climbing, slipping, falling to the foot of the rocks, starting +upwards again, clutching at this one and that, still eluded with +ironical laughter, until, realizing his impotence, breathless and +quaking with rage, he shakes his clenched hand at them, foaming, +"Let me catch one with this fist!" + +He is glaring upward at them, speechless with fury, when his eyes +become fixed upon a brilliant point, growing in size and radiance +until the whole flood is illumined. There is an exquisite hush of +a moment. The sun has risen and kindled its reflection in the gold. +The music describes better than words the spreading of tremulous +light down through the deep. Through the wavering ripples of water +and light cuts the bright call of the gold, the call to wake up +and behold. Again and again it rings, regularly a golden voice. +The Rhine-daughters have quickly forgotten their victim. They begin +their blissful circumswimming of their idol, with a song in ecstatic +celebration of it, so penetratingly, joyously sweet, that you readily +forgive them their naughtiness: "Rhine-gold! Rhine-gold! Luminous +joy! How laugh'st thou so bright and clear!"... + +Alberich cannot detach his eyes from the vision. "What is it, you +sleek ones," he asks in awed curiosity, "glancing and gleaming +up there?" + +"Now where have you barbarian lived," they reply, "never to have +heard of the Rhine-gold?" They mock his ignorance; returning to +their teasing mood, they invite him to come and revel with them +in the streaming light. + +"If it is no good save for you to swim around, it is of small use +to me!" is Alberich's dejected observation. As if their treasure had +been disparaged, Woglinde informs him that he would hardly despise +the gold if he knew all of its wonder! And Wellgunde follows this +part-revelation with the whole secret: The whole world would be +his inheritance who should fashion out of the Rhine-gold a magic +ring. Vainly Flosshilde tries to silence her sisters. Wellgunde +and Woglinde laugh at her prudence, reminding her of the gold's +assured safety in view of the condition attached to the creation +of the ring. This is described in a solemn phrase, serious as the +pronouncing of a vow: "Only he who forswears the power of love, +only he who casts from him the joys of love, can learn the spell +by which the gold may be forced into a ring."--Wherefore, they +hold, the gold is safe, "for all that lives wishes to love, no one +will give up love," least of all this Nibelung, the heat of whose +sentiments had come near scorching them! And they laugh and swim +around the gold with their light-hearted Wallalaleia, diversified +with mocking personalities to the gnome down in the gloom. + +But they have miscalculated. Without suspecting it, they have gone +too far. The dwarf stands staring at the gold, dreaming what it +would be to own the world. He is hardly at that moment, thanks +to them, in love with love. His resolution is suddenly taken. He +springs to the rock, shouting: "Mock on! Mock on! The Nibelung is +coming!" With fearful activity, hate-inspired strength, he rapidly +climbs the rock on which he had so slipped and floundered before. +The foolish nymphs, though they see his approach, are still far +from understanding. They still believe it is themselves he seeks to +seize. They now not only laugh--they laugh, as the stage-directions +have it, "_im tollsten Uebermuth_," the craziest towering insolence +of high spirits. "Save yourselves, the gnome is raving! He has +gone mad with love!" + +He has reached the summit of the rock, he has laid hands on the +gold. He cries, "You shall make love in the dark!... I quench your +light, I tear your gold from the reef. I shall forge me the ring +of vengeance, for, let the flood hear me declare it: I here curse +love!" Tearing from its socket their splendid lamp, which utters +just once its golden cry, all distorted and lamentable, he plunges +with it into the depths, leaving sudden night over the scene in +which the wild sisters, shocked at last into sobriety, with cries +of Help and Woe start in pursuit of the robber. His harsh laugh +of triumph drifts back from the caves of Nibelheim. + +Then occurs a gradual transformation-scene both to the eye and +the ear. The rocks disappear, black waves flow past, the whole +all the while appearing to sink. Clouds succeed the water, mist +the clouds. This finally clears, revealing a calm and lovely scene +on the mountain-heights. The music has during this been painting +the change, too: Sounds of running water, above which hovers a +moment, a memory of the scene just past and a foreboding of its +sorrowful consequences, the strain signifying the renunciation +of love; when this dies away, the motif of the ring, to be heard +so many times after, its fateful character plainly conveyed by the +notes, which also literally describe its circular form. By what +magic of modulation the uninitiated cannot discern, the ring-motif, +as the water by degrees is translated into mist, slides by subtle +changes into a motif which seems, when it is reached, conspicuously +different from it, the motif of the Gods' Abode. + +There in the distance it stands, when the mists have perfectly +cleared, bathed in fresh morning light, the tall just-completed +castle, with shimmering battlements, crowning a high rocky mountain, +at whose base, far down out of sight, flows the Rhine. For the +Rhine is the centre of the world we are occupied with: under it, +the Nibelungs; above it, the Gods; beside it, the giants and the +insignificant human race. The music itself here, while the dwelling +of the gods is coming into sight, seems to build a castle: story +above story it rises, topped with gleaming pinnacles, one, lighter +and taller than all the rest, piercing the clouds. + +In the foreground lie sleeping side by side, on a flowery bank, +the god and goddess Wotan and Fricka. + +He lies dreaming happily of the abode from which the world is to +be commanded by him, to the display of immeasurable power and his +eternal honour. His wife's sleep is less easy. For the situation +is not as free from complications as his untroubled slumbers might +lead one to suppose. Wotan has employed to build him this stronghold +the giants Fasolt and Fafner, formerly his enemies, but bound to +peace by treaties, and has promised them the reward stipulated +for, Freia, goddess of beauty and youth, sister of Fricka. And this +he has done without any serious thought of keeping his word. "_Nie +sann es ernstlich mein Sinn_," he assures Fricka, when, starting in +dismay from her sleep and beholding the completed burg, she reminds +him that the time is come for payment, and asks what shall they do. +Loge, he enlightens her, counselled the compact and promised to +find the means of evading it. He relies upon him to do so. This calm +frankness in the god, with its effect of personal clearness from +all sense of guilt, suggests the measure of Wotan's distinguishing +simplicity. Referring later to the dubious act which so effectually +laid the foundation of sorrows, he says, "Unknowingly deceitful, I +practised untruth. Loge artfully tempted me." He explains himself +to Fricka, when she asks why he continues to trust the crafty Loge, +who has often already brought them into straits: "Where frank courage +is sufficient, I ask counsel of no one. But slyness and cunning +are needed to turn to advantage the ill-will of adversaries, and +that is the talent of Loge." + +Strong and calm is Wotan; music of might and august beauty, large +music, supports everyone of his utterances. There is no departure +from this, even when his signal fallibility is in question. Waftures +of Walhalla most commonly accompany his steps; the close of his +speech is frequently marked by the sturdy motif of his spear, the +spear inseparable from him, cut by him from the World-Ash, carved +with runes establishing the bindingness of compacts, by aid of +which he had conquered the world, subdued the giants, the Nibelungs, +and Loge, the Spirit of Fire. + +Athirst for power he is, before all: in this trait lie the original +seeds of his destruction; it is for the sake of the tokens of power, +the castle and later the ring, that he commits the injustices which +bring about ruin. Athirst, too, for wisdom: he has given one of his +eyes for Wisdom, in the person of Fricka, who combines in herself +law and order and domestic virtue. And athirst for love,--something +of a grievance to Fricka. "_Ehr ich die Frauen doch mehr als dich +freut_," "I honour women more than pleases you," he retorts to +her reproach of contempt for woman's love and worth, evidenced in +his light ceding of Freia. + +He calls himself and all call him a god, adding "eternal" even +when the gods' end is glaringly at hand. The other gods look to +him as chief among them. But he is ever acknowledging the existence +of something outside and above himself, a law, a moral necessity, +which it is no use to contend against; through which, do what he +may, disaster finally overtakes him for having tried to disregard it. +There is a stray hint from him that the world is his very possession +and that he could at will destroy it; but this which so many facts +contradict we may regard as a dream. Yet he feels toward the world +most certainly a responsibility, such as a sovereign's toward his +people; a duty, part of which is that for its sake he must not +allow his spear to be dishonoured. Compacts it must sacredly guard. +All his personal troubles come from this necessity, this constant +check to him: he must respect covenants, his spear stands for their +integrity. Alberich in a bitter discussion declares his knowledge +of where the god is weak, and reminds him that if he should break +a covenant sanctioned by the spear in his hand, this, the symbol +of his power, would split into spray! + +He is perhaps best understood, on the whole, with his remorse and +despair, the tortures of his heart and his struggle with his soul, +if one can conceive him as a sort of sublimated aristocrat; a +resplendent great personage--just imaginable in the dawn of history, +when there were giants upon earth--lifted far above the ordinary of +the race by superior gifts, "reigning through beauty," as Fasolt +describes; possessing faculties not shared by common mortals, but +these rudimentary or else in their decline: the power of divination, +not always accurate or clear; the power of miracle, not altogether +to be relied upon; remaining young indefinitely, yet not wholly +enfranchised from time and circumstance; living indefinitely, but +recognising himself as perishable, and passing at last, swallowed +in twilight. + +A great warrior and leader of heroes, inciter of men to bold actions +and novel flights; some of his titles: Father of Hosts, Father +of Battles, Father of Victory; riding in the storm-clouds on his +_Luft-ross_, his air-horse, whose hoof-beats and neigh fill us with +excited delight. But his air-horse cannot overtake Bruennhilde's +air-horse, in his pursuit of her, and Grane reaching the goal falls +exhausted.... + +A great reveller: reference is repeatedly made to the light-minded, +light-hearted, careless humour of the gods, their glorious feasts +and joyous life in the light up there. Their tribe is qualified +as "laughing." Wotan's unshakable dignity indeed does not prevent +a quick easy laugh. And he shows the true aristocratic temper in +being little moved by the sorrows of those beneath and unrelated +to him: one of his laughs, which we witness, is for the howls of +a poor wee dwarf who had been savagely beaten. + +And so this powerful clan-chief had had a fancy for a house to +live in worthy of their greatness. Fricka had fallen in with his +desire, but for reasons of her own. To him the citadel was a fresh +addition to his power. But Fricka had been "_um des Gatten Treu' +besorgt_," "ill at ease with regard to her consort's fidelity," +and had thought the beautiful dwelling might keep him at home. +With her words, "_Herrliche Wohnung, wonniger Hausrath_," "Beautiful +dwelling, delectable household order," first occurs the winning +strain which afterward stands for Fricka in her love of domesticity, +or, separate from her, for the pure charm of home. + +When the giants, however, had been subsidised for the great work +of building the house, the narrow-conscienced women had been kept +out of the way while an agreement was reached with the builders; +a grievance which Fricka remembers, and does not let her spouse +forget, when the evil consequences of his act are upon them. Fricka +constitutes something of a living reproach to her husband, though +a certain tender regard still exists between them through the +introductory Opera. A thankless part is Fricka's, like that of Reason +in opposition to Feeling and Genius. + +Now Loge, who had been tamed by the conquering spear, hated his +tamer. He craved back his liberty, and, as the Norn tells us later +in _Goetterdaemmerung_, "tried to free himself by gnawing at the +runes on the shaft of the spear." He gave counsel to Wotan which +followed must create difficulties from which the god could deliver +himself only by an injustice; and this injustice Loge seems clearly +to have recognised from the first as the beginning of the end of +the strength of the gods. The subtle Loge is more widely awake than +Wotan to the "power not ourselves which makes for righteousness." +He counselled him to buy the giants' labor by the promise of Freia, +knowing that the gods could never endure to let the amiable goddess +go. He led them to believe that when the time came he would give +them further counsel by which to retain her. And his word Wotan +chose to trust, and gave his heart over to the untroubled enjoyment +of his plans' completion. + +And now Freia comes running to him in terror, crying that one of +the giants has told her he is come to fetch her. With her entrance +we first hear the slender sweet phrase, delicately wandering upward, +which after for a time denoting Freia, comes to mean for us just +beauty. Wotan calms the maiden in distress, and asks, as one fancies, +a little uneasily, "Have you seen nothing of Loge?" + +The arrival of the giants is one of the great comedy moments of +the play. Their colossally heavy tread, musically rendered, never +fails to call forth laughter from some corner in us of left-over +childhood. It is like the ogre's Fee-faw-fum. Fasolt is a good +giant, his shaggy hair is blond, his fur-tunic white, and his soft +big heart all given over to the touchingly lovely Freia. Fafner is +a bad giant and his hair and furs are black. He is much cleverer +than his brother. They carry as walking-sticks the trunks of trees. + +They make it known that they have come for their wages. Wotan bids +them, with a sturdy aplomb worthy of his godhead, state their wishes. +What shall the wages be? Fasolt, a shade astonished, replies, "That, +of course, which we settled upon. Haye you forgotten so soon? Freia.... +It is in the bond that she shall follow us home." + +"Have you taken leave of your senses... with you bond?" asks Wotan, +with a quick flash. "You must think of a different recompense. +Freia is far too precious to me." + +The giant is for a moment still, unable to speak for indignation; +but recovering his voice he makes to the "son of light" a series +of observations eminently to the point. Wotan to these makes no +more retort than as if the words had not been spoken; but--to gain +time till Loge shall arrive--when the giant has quite finished, he +inquires, "What, after all, can the charm of the amiable goddess +signify to you clumsy boors?" Fasolt enlarges, "You, reigning through +beauty, shimmering lightsome race, lightly you offer to barter +for stone towers woman's loveliness. We simpletons labour with +toil-hardened hands to earn a sweet woman who shall dwell with +us poor devils.... And you mean to call the bargain naught?..." + +Fafner gloomily checks him: Words will not help them. And the possession +of Freia in itself is to his mind of little account. But of great +account to take her from the gods. In her garden grow golden apples, +she alone has the art of tending these. Eating this fruit maintains +her kinsmen in unwaning youth. Were Freia removed, they must age +and fade. Wherefore let Freia be seized! + +Wotan frets underbreath, "Loge is long acoming!" + +Freia's cries, as the giants lay hands upon her, bring her brothers +Donner and Froh--the god of Thunder and the god of the Fields--quickly +to her side. A combat between them and the giants is imminent, when +Wotan parts the antagonists with his spear, "Nothing by violence!" +and he adds, what it might be thought he had lost sight of, "My +spear is the protector of bargains!" + +And then finally, finally, comes in sight Loge. Wotan lets out his +breath in relief: "Loge at last!" + +The music has introduced Loge by a note-painting as of fire climbing +up swiftly through airiest fuel. There is a quick flash or two, like +darting tongues of flame. A combination of swirling and bickering +and pulsating composes the commonest Loge-motif, but the variety +is endless of the fire's caprices. Fantastical, cheery, and light +it is mostly, sinister sometimes, suggestive of treachery, but +terrible never; its beauty rather than its terror is reproduced. +So characteristic are the fire-motifs that after a single hearing a +person instinctively when one occurs looks for some sign or suggestion +of Loge. + +He stands now upon the rock, a vivid, charming, disquieting apparition, +with his wild red hair and fluttering scarlet cloak. The arch-hypocrite +wears always a consummately artless air. He comes near winning +us by a bright perfect good-humour, which is as of the quality +of an intelligence without a heart. The love of mischief for its +own sake, which is one of his chief traits, might be thought to +account easily for his many enemies. + +He is related to the gods, a half-god, but is regarded coldly by +his kin. Wotan is his single friend in the family, and with Wotan +he preserves the attitude of a self-acknowledged underling. He +stands in fear of his immediate strength, while nourishing a hardly +disguised contempt for his wit, as well as that of his cousins +collectively. A secret hater of them all, and clear-minded in estimating +them. A touch of Mephistophelian there is in the pleasure which he +seems to find in the contemplation of the canker-spot in Wotan's +nature, drawing from the god over and over again, as if the admission +refreshed him, that he has no intention of dealing justly toward +the Rhine-maidens. + +"Is this your manner of hastening to set aright the evil bargain +concluded by you?" Wotan chides, as he appears from the valley. + +"How? What bargain concluded by me?..." + +Pinned down to accounting for himself, "I promised," he says, "to +think over the matter, and try to find means of loosing you from +the bargain.... But how should I have promised to perform the +impossible?" Under the pressure of all their angers, he finally +airily delivers himself: "Having at heart to help you, I travelled +the world over, visiting its most recondite corners, in search +of such a substitute for Freia as might be found acceptable to +the giants. Vainly I sought, and now at last I plainly see that +nothing upon this earth is so precious that it can take the place +in man's affection of the loveliness and worth of woman." + +Struck and uplifted by this thought, the gods, moved, look in one +another's faces, and the music expresses the sweet expansion of +the heart overflowing with thoughts of beauty and love. It is one +of the memorable moments of the Prologue. + +"Everywhere," proceeds Loge, "far as life reaches, in water, earth, +and air, wherever is quickening of germs and stirring of nature's +forces, I investigated and inquired what there might be in existence +that a man should hold dearer than woman's beauty and worth? Everywhere +my inquiry was met with derision. No creature, in water, earth, or +air, is willing to renounce love and woman." + +As he pauses, the gods again gaze at one another, with tender tearful +smiles, in an exalted emotion over the recognition of this touching +truth; and the music reexpresses that blissful expansion of the +heart. + +"Only one did I see," Loge says further--the light fading out of +the music--"who had renounced love; for red gold he had forsworn +the favor of woman." He relates Alberich's theft of the gold, as +it had been told him by the Rhine-daughters, who had made him their +advocate with Wotan, to procure its restitution. + +But their plea meets with a deaf ear. "You are stupid, indeed, +if not perverse," the god answers Loge, when he delivers their +appeal. "You find me in straits myself, how should I help others?" + +The giants have been listening to this talk about Alberich, an +ancient enemy of theirs. The cleverer brother asks Loge, "What +great advantage is involved in the possession of the gold, that +the Nibelung should find it all-sufficient?" Loge explains. There +drift back to Wotan's memory runes of the Ring, and the thought +readily arises that it would be well he possessed the ring himself. + +"But how, Loge, should I learn the art to shape it?" At the reply +that he who would practise the magic by which it could be shaped +must renounce love, the god turns away in conclusive disrelish. +Loge informs him that he would in any case have been too late: +Alberich has already successfully forged the ring. + +This alters the face of things. + +"But if he possesses a ring of such power," says simple Donner, "it +must be taken from him, lest he bring us all under its compulsion!" + +Wotan hesitates no more. "The ring I must have!" + +"Yes, now, as long as love need not be renounced, it will be easy +to obtain it," says simple Froh. + +"Easy as mocking--child's-play!" sneers Loge. + +"Then do you tell us, how?..." Wotan's fine majestic simplicity +has no false pride. + +The Serpent gleefully replies, "By theft! What a thief stole, you +steal from the thief! Could anything be easier? Only, Alberich +is on his guard, you will have to proceed craftily if you would +overreach the robber... in order to return their treasure to the +Rhine-daughters, who earnestly entreat you." + +"The Rhine-daughters?" chafes Wotan. "What do you trouble me with +them?" + +And the goddess of Wisdom,--more sympathetic on the whole in this +exhibition of weakness than in her hard justice later--exposing +the core of her feminine being, breaks in: "I wish to hear nothing +whatever of that watery brood. Many a man, greatly to my vexation, +have they lured under while he was bathing, with promises of love." + +The giants have been listening and have taken counsel together. +Fafner now approaches Wotan. "Hear, Wotan.... Keep Freia.... We +have fixed upon a lesser reward. We will take in her stead the +Nibelung's gold." + +Wotan comes near losing his temper. "What I do not own, I shall +bestow upon you shameless louts?" + +Fafner expresses a perfect confidence in Wotan's equipment for obtaining +the gold. + +"For you I shall go to this trouble?" rails the irritated god, +"For you I shall circumvent this enemy? Out of all measure impudent +and rapacious my gratitude has made you clowns!..." + +Fasolt who has only half-heartedly accepted his brother's decision +in favor of the gold, stays to hear no more, but seizes Freia. With +a warning that she shall be regarded as a hostage till evening, +but that if when they return the Rhinegold is not on the spot as +her ransom, they will keep her forever, the giants hurry her off. + +Her cry for help rings back. Her brothers, in the act of rushing +to the rescue, look at Wotan for his sanction. No encouragement +is to be gathered from his face. He stands motionless, steeped +in perplexity, in conflict with himself. + +Loge has now a few moments' pure enjoyment in safely tormenting +his superiors. He stands, with his fresh, ingenuous air, on a point +overlooking the valley, and describes the giants' progress, as +does the music, too. "Not happy is Freia, hanging on the back of +the rough ones as they wade through the Rhine...." Her dejected +kindred wince. + +The heavy footsteps die away. Loge returning his attention to the +gods, voices his amazement at the sight which meets him: "Am I +deceived by a mist? Am I misled by a dream? How wan and fearful and +faded you do look! The glow is dead in your cheeks, the lightening +quenched in your glances. Froh, it is still early morning! Donner, +you are dropping your hammer! What ails Fricka? Is it chagrin to +see the greyness of age creeping over Wotan?" Sounds of woe burst +from all, save Wotan, who with his eyes on the ground still stands +absorbed in gloomy musing. + +The solution of the puzzle suddenly, as he feigns, flashes upon +Loge: This is the result of Freia's leaving them! They had not yet +that morning tasted her apples. Now, of necessity, those golden +apples of youth in her garden, which she alone could cultivate, will +decay and drop. "Myself," he says, "I shall be less inconvenienced +than you, because she was ever grudging to me of the exquisite +fruit, for I am only half of as good lineage as you, Resplendent +Ones. On the other hand, you depended wholly upon the rejuvenating +apples; the giants knew that and are plainly practising against +your lives. Now bethink yourselves how to provide against this. +Without the apples, old and grey, a mock to the whole world, the +dynasty of the gods must perish!" + +With sudden resolution, Wotan starts from his dark study. "Up, Loge! +Down with me to Nibelheim! I will conquer the gold!" + +"The Rhine-daughters, then," speaks wicked Loge, "may look to have +their prayer granted?" + +Wotan harshly silences him. "Be still, chatterer!... Freia the good, +Freia must be ransomed!" + +Loge drops the subject and offers his services as guide. "Shall +we descend through the Rhine?" + +The Rhine, with its infesting nymphs?... + +"Not through the Rhine!" says Wotan. + +"Then through the sulphur-cleft slip down with me!" And Loge vanishes +down a cleft in the rock, through which Wotan, after bidding his +family wait for him where they are until evening, follows. + +Thick vapour pours forth from the sulphur-cleft, dimming and shortly +blotting out the scene. We are travelling downward into the earth. +A dull red glow gradually tinges the vapour. Sounds of diminutive +hammers upon anvils become distinct. The orchestra takes up their +suggestion and turns it into a simple monotonous strongly rhythmical +air--never long silent in this scene--which comes to mean for us +the little toiling Nibelungs, the cunning smiths. A great rocky +subterranean cave running off on every side into rough shafts, +is at last clearly visible, lighted by the ruddy reflection of +forge-fires. + +This is where Alberich reigns and by the power of the ring compels +his enslaved brothers to labour for him. Renouncing love has not been +good for the disposition of Alberich. It is not only the insatiable +lust of gold and power now darkening the soul-face of the earlier +fairly gentle-natured Nibelung, it is a savage gloating cruelty, +bespeaking one unnaturally loveless; it is a sanguinary hatred, +too, of all who still can love, of love itself, a thirst and +determination to see it completely done away with in the world, +exterminated--a sort of fallen angel's sin against the Holy Ghost. +A state, beneath the incessant excitement of slave-driving and +treasure-amassing, of inexpressible unhappiness, lightened by moments +of huge exaltation in the sense of his new power. + +We find him, when the cavern glimmers into sight, brutally handling +his crumb of a gnome brother. Mime, like Alberich, wins some part of +our heart on first acquaintance, which he later ceases to deserve; +but in the case of Mime I think it is never wholly withdrawn, even +when he is shown to be an unmitigated wretch; he is, to begin with, +so little, and he has a funny, fetching twist or quaver in his +voice, indicated by the notes themselves of his rather mean little +sing-song melodies. Alberich's nominal reason for indulging his +present passion for hurting--he is haling Mime by the ear--is that +the latter is overslow with certain piece of work which, with minute +instructions, he has been ordered to do. Mime, under pressure, produces +the article, which he had in truth been trying to keep for his own, +suspecting in it some mysterious value. It is the _Tarnhelm_, a +curious cap of linked metal. Its uncanny character is confided to us +even before we see it at work, by the motif which first appears with +its appearance: a motif preparing for some unearthly manifestation +the mind pricked to disquieted attention by the weirdness of the +air. Alberich places it upon his head, utters a brief incantation, +and disappears from sight. A column of vapour stands in his place. + +"Do you see me?" asks Alberich's disembodied voice. Mime looks +around, astonished. "Where are you? I see you not!" "Then feel +me!" cries the power-drunken tyrant, and Mime winces and cowers +under blows from an unseen scourge, while Alberich's voice laughs. +Out of measure exhilarated by his successful new device for ensuring +diligence and inspiring fear, he storms out of hearing with the +terrible words, "Nibelungs all, bow to Alberich!... He can now +be everywhere at once, keeping watch over you. Rest and leisure +are done and over with for you! For him you must labour.... His +conquered slaves are you forever!" The moment of his overtaking +the Nibelungs is indicated by their sudden distant outcry. + +Mime has been left crouching and whimpering on the rocky floor. +Thus Wotan and Loge find him. + +Loge is in all the following scene Wotan's very active vizier, +furnishing the invention and carrying out the stratagems. Wotan, +except to the eye, takes the background and has little to say; +but as the blue of his mantle and the fresh chaplet on his locks +strike the eye refreshingly in the fire-reddened cave, so his voice, +with echoes in it of the noble upper world, comes like gusts of +sweet air. + +Loge sets the cowering dwarf on his feet and by artful questions +gets the whole story from him of the ring and the Nibelungs' woe. +About the Tarnhelm, too, Mime tells Loge. At the recollection of +the stripes he has suffered, he rubs his back howling. The gods +laugh. That gives Mime the idea that these strangers must be of the +great. He is in his turn questioning them, when he hears Alberich's +bullying voice approaching. He runs hither and thither in terror and +calls to the strangers to look to themselves, Alberich is coming! +Wotan quietly seats himself on a stone to await him. + +Alberich enters driving before him with his scourge a whole army of +little huddling, hurrying Nibelungs, groaning under the weight of +great pieces of gold and silver smithwork, which, while he threatens +and urges them, they heap in a duskily glimmering mound. In the +fancy that they are not obeying fast or humbly enough, he takes the +magic ring from his finger, kisses and lifts it commandingly over +them, whereupon with cries of dismay they scramble away, scattering +down the shafts, in feverish haste to be digging and delving. + +Heavy groans are in the music when it refers to the oppression +of the Nibelungs; groans so tragic and seriously presented that +they bring up the thought of other oppressions and killing labours +than those of the Nibelungs. The music which later depicts the +amassing of riches, indicates such horror of strain, such fatigue, +such hopeless weariness of heart and soul, that the hearer must +think with sharpened sympathy of all that part of humanity which +represents the shoulder placed against the wheel. + +Alberich turns an angry eye upon the intruders: "What do you want?" + +It is then most especially that the calm notes of Wotan fall healingly +upon the sense: They have heard tales of novel events in Nibelheim, of +mighty wonders worked there by Alberich, and are come from curiosity +to witness these. + +After this simple introduction from the greater personage, his +light-foot, volatile, graceful minister takes Alberich in hand and +practising confidently upon his intoxicated conceit of power, his +pride in the cleverness which had contrived ring and wishing-cap, +uses him like a puppet of which all the strings should be in his +hand. + +Alberich recognises in Loge an old enemy. Loge's reply to Alberich's, +"I know you well enough, you and your kind!" is perhaps, with its +cheerful dancing flicker, his prettiest bit of self-description. +"You know me, childish elf? Then, say, who am I, that you should +be surly? In the cold hollow where you lay shivering, how would +you have had light and cheering warmth, if Loge had never laughed +for you?..." + +But Alberich seems to remember too many reasons for distrusting +him. "I can now, however," he boasts, "defy you all!" and he calls +to their notice the heaped riches,--the _Hort_. + +"But," remarks Wotan, "of what use is all that wealth in cheerless +Nibelheim, where there is nothing to buy?" + +"Nibelheim," replies Alberich, "is good to furnish treasures and +to keep them safe. But when they form a sufficient heap, I shall +use them to make myself master of the world!" + +"And how, my good fellow, shall you accomplish this?" + +Alberich has apprehended in this guest one of the immortals,--which, +taken into consideration a speech suggestive every time it resounds +of calm heights and stately circumstances, is not strange. Alberich +hates him, hates them all. This is his exposition of his plan: +"You who, lapped in balmy airs, live, laugh, and love up there, +with a golden fist I shall catch you all! Even as I renounced love, +all that lives shall renounce it! Ensnared and netted in gold, +you shall care for gold only! You immortal revellers, cradling +yourselves on blissful heights in exquisite pastimes, you despise +the black elf! Have a care!... For when you men have come to be +the servants of my power, your sweetly adorned women, who would +despise the dwarf's love, since he cannot hope for love, shall +be forced to serve his pleasure. Ha ha! Do you hear? Have a care, +have a care, I say, of the army of the night, when the riches of +the Nibelungs once climb into the light!" + +Wotan, whose Olympian self-sufficiency is usually untroubled by what +any mean other-person may say, at this cannot contain himself, but +starting to his feet cries out a command for the blasphemous fool's +annihilation! Before Alberich, however, has caught the words--his +deafness perhaps it is which saves his life--Loge has called Wotan +back to his reason. Practising on Alberich's not completely outlived +simplicity, he by the ruse of feigning himself very stupid and +greatly impressed by his cleverness, now induces him to show off for +their greater amazement the power of the Tarnhelm, which it appears +has not only the trick of making the wearer at will invisible, but +of lending him whatever shape he may choose. Later we find that +it has also the power to transport the wearer at pleasure to the +ends of the earth in a moment of time. + +To put Loge's incredulity to shame, Alberich, Tarnhelm on head, +turns himself into a dragon, drawing its cumbersome length across +the stage to a fearsome tune which gives all of its uncouthness, +and never fails to call forth laughter, like the giants' tread. As +a further exhibition of his power, after full measure of flattery +in Loge's pretended fright, he at the prompting of the same changes +himself into a toad, which has but time for a hop or two, before +Wotan places his calm foot upon it. Loge snatches the Tarnhelm +off its head and Alberich is seen in his own person writhing under +Wotan. Loge binds him fast, and the gods, with their struggling +prey between them, hurry off through the pass by which they came. + +Then reoccurs, but reversed, the transformation between Nibelheim +and the upper world. The region of the stithies is passed, the little +hammers are heard. At last Wotan and Loge with Alberich reappear +through the sulphur-cleft. + +"Look, beloved," says Loge to the unhappy captive, "there lies +the world which you think of conquering for your own. Tell me now, +what little corner in it do you intend as a kennel for me?" And he +dances around him, snapping his fingers to the prettiest, heartlessly +merry fire-music. + +Alberich replies with raving insult. Wotan's cool voice reminds +him of the vanity of this and calls him to the consideration of +his ransom. When Alberich, after a time, grumblingly inquires what +they will have, he says, largely and frankly, "The treasure, your +shining gold." + +If he can only retain the ring, reflects Alberich, the loss of +the treasure may be quickly repaired. At his request they free +his right hand; he touches the ring with his lips and murmurs the +spell by which after a moment the swarm of little smoke-grimed +Nibelungs arrives groaning and straining under the weight of the +Hort; again they pile it in a heap, and at Alberich's command scurry +home. + +"Now I have paid, now let me go," says the humbled Nibelung-lord, +"and that helmet-like ornament which Loge is holding, have the +kindness to give it me back." But Loge flings the Tarnhelm on the +heap as part of the ransom. Hard to bear is this, but Mime can +after all forge another. "Now you have gotten everything; now, +you cruel ones, loose the thongs." But Wotan remarks, "You have a +gold ring upon your finger; that, I think, belongs with the rest." +At this, a madness of terror seizes Alberich. "The ring?..." "You +must leave it for ransom." "My life--but not the ring!" With that +bitter coldness of the aristocrat which in time brings about +revolutions, Wotan replies, "It is the ring I ask for--with your +life do what you please!" The dull Nibelung pleads still after +that, and his words contain thorns which he might reasonably expect +to tell: "The thing which I, anguish-harried and curse-crowned, +earned through a horrible renunciation, you are to have for your +own as a pleasant princely toy?... If I sinned, I sinned solely +against myself, but against all that has been, is, or shall be, +do you, Immortal, sin, if you wrest this ring from me...." + +Wotan without further discussion stretches out his hand and tears +from Alberich's finger the ring, which gives once more, under this +violence, the golden call, saddened and distorted. "Here, the +ring!--Your chattering does not establish your right to it!" Alberich +drops to earth, felled. Wotan places the ring on his hand and stands +in gratified contemplation of it. "I hold here what makes me the +mightiest lord of the mighty!" + +Loge unties Alberich and bids him slip home. But the Nibelung is +past care or fear, and rising to insane heights of hatred lays upon +the ring such a curse as might well shake its owner's complacency. +"As it came to me through a curse, accursed be this ring! As it +lent me power without bounds, let its magic now draw death upon +the wearer! Let no possessor of it be happy.... Let him who owns +it be gnawed by care and him who owns it not be gnawed by envy! Let +every one covet, no one enjoy it!... Appointed to death, fear-ridden +let its craven master be! While he lives, let his living be as +dying! The ring's master be the ring's slave,--until my stolen good +return to me!... Now keep it! Guard it well! My curse you shall +not escape!" + +"Did you hear his affectionate greeting?" asks Loge, when Alberich +has vanished down the rocky cleft. + +Wotan, absorbed in the contemplation of the ring, has heard the +curse with the same degree of interest he might have bestowed upon +the trickle of a brook. He replies magnanimously, "Grudge him not +the luxury of railing!" + +Fricka, Donner, and Froh hasten to welcome the returning gods. +The approach of Freia, whom the giants are bringing between them, +is felt before she appears, in a subtle sweetening of the air, a +simultaneous lightening of all the hearts and return of youth to +the faces, which Froh's daintily expansive greeting describes. + +Fricka is hurrying toward her. Fasolt interposes: Not to be touched! +She still belongs to them until the ransom have been paid. Fasolt +does not fall in willingly with the arrangement which shall give +them the gold in place of the woman; he has been overpersuaded +by the black brother; his regret at losing Freia is so great, he +tells the gods, that the treasure, if she is to be relinquished, +will have to be piled so high as completely to hide the blooming +maid. + +"Let it be measured according to Freia's stature!" decrees Wotan, +and the giants drive their great staves into the earth so that +they roughly frame the figure of Freia. Helped by Loge and Froh, +they begin stopping the space between with the treasure. Wotan's +fastidiousness cannot endure the visible sordid details of his +bargain; he turns from the sight of the incarnate rose, as she +stands drooping in a noble shame, to be valued against so much +gold. "Hasten with the work!" he bids them, "it sorely goes against +me!" When Fafner's rough greed orders the measure to be more solidly +pressed down, and he ducks spying for crevices still to be stopped +with gold, Wotan turns away, soul-sick: "Humiliation burns deep +in my breast!" + +The Hort is exhausted, when Fafner looking for crannies exclaims, +"I can still see the shining of her hair," and demands, to shut +it from view, the Tarnhelm which Loge has attempted to retain. +"Let it go!" commands Wotan, when Loge hesitates. + +The affair, it now would seem, must be closed; but Fasolt, in his +grief over the loss of the Fair one, still hovers about, peering +if perchance he may still see her, and so he catches through the +screen of gold the gleam of her eye, and declares that so long +as the lovely glance is visible he will not renounce the woman. + +"But can you not see, there is no more gold?" remonstrates Loge. +Fafner, who has not failed to store in his brain what he earlier +overheard, replies, "Nothing of the kind. There is a gold ring +still on Wotan's finger. Give us that to stop the cranny." + +"This ring?..." cries Wotan, like Alberich before him. + +"Be advised," Loge says to the giants, as if in confidence. "That +ring belongs to the Rhine-maidens. Wotan intends to return it to +them." + +But Wotan has no subterfuges or indirections of his own--not conscious +ones; when he needs their aid, he uses another, as he had told +Fricka. "What are you prating?" he corrects Loge; "what I have +obtained with such difficulty, I shall keep without compunction +for myself." Loge amuses himself with probing further the grained +spot in his superior. "My promise then stands in bad case, which I +made to the Rhine-daughters when they turned to me in their trouble." +Wotan, with the coldness of the Pharisee's "Look thou to that," +replies, "Your promise does not bind me. The ring, my capture, +I shall keep." + +"But you will have to lay it down with the ransom," Fafner insists. + +"Ask what else you please, you shall have it; but not for the whole +world will I give up the ring." + +Fasolt instantly lays hands again upon Freia and draws her from +behind the Hort. "Everything then stands as it stood before. Freia +shall come with us now for good and all." An outcry of appeal goes +up from all the gods to Wotan. He turns from them unmoved. "Trouble +me not. The ring I will not give up." And the idleness of further +appeal, howsoever eloquent, cannot be doubted. + +But now unaccountable darkness invades the scene; from the hollow +alcove in the rocks, letting down to the interior earth, breaks a +bluish light; while all, breathless, watch the strange phenomenon, +the upper half of a woman becomes discernible in it, wrapped in +smoke-coloured veils and long black locks. It is the Spirit of +the Earth, the all-knowing Erda, whose motif describes the stately +progression of natural things, and is the same as the Rhine-motif, +which describes a natural thing in stately progression. She lifts +a warning hand to Wotan. "Desist, Wotan, desist! Avoid the curse +on the ring... The possession of it will doom you to dark ruin...." + +Wotan, struck, inquires in awe, "Who are you, warning woman?" + +The one who knows all that was, is, and shall be, she tells him; +the ancestress of the everlasting world, older than time; the mother +of the Norns who speak with Wotan nightly. Gravest danger has brought +her to seek him in person. Let him hear and heed! The present order +is passing away. There is dawning for the gods a dark day.... At +this prophesied ruin, the music reverses the motif of ascending +progression, and paints melancholy disintegration and crumbling +downfall, a strain to be heard many times in the closing opera of +the trilogy, when the prophecy comes to pass and the gods enter +their twilight. The apparition is sinking back into the earth. +Wotan beseeches it to tarry and tell him more. But with the words, +"You are warned.... Meditate in sorrow and fear!" it vanishes. The +masterful god attempts to follow, to wrest from the weird woman +further knowledge. His wife and her brothers hold him back. He +stands for a time still hesitating, uncertain, wrapped in thought. +With sudden resolve at last he tosses the ring with the rest of the +treasure, and turns heart-wholly to greet Freia returning among +them, bringing back their lost youth. + +While the gods are expressing tender rapture over the restoration of +Freia, and she goes from one to the other receiving their caresses, +Fafner spreads open a gigantic sack and in this is briskly stuffing +the gold. Fasolt, otherwise preoccupied, had not thought to bring +a sack. He attempts to stay Fafner's too active hand. "Hold on, +you grasping one, leave something for me! An honest division will +be best for us both!" Fafner objects, "You, amorous fool, cared +more for the maid than the gold. With difficulty I persuaded you +to the exchange. You would haved wooed Freia without thought of +division, wherefore in the division of the spoil I shall still +be generous if I keep the larger half for myself." Fasolt's anger +waxes great. He calls upon the gods to judge between them and divide +the treasure justly. Wotan turns from his appeal with characteristic +contempt. Loge, the mischief-lover, whispers to Fasolt, "Let him +take the treasure, do you but reserve the ring!" Fafner has during +this not been idle, but has sturdily filled his sack; the ring is +on his hand. Fasolt demands it in exchange for Freia's glance. +He snatches at it, Fafner defends it, and when in the wrestling +which ensues Fasolt has forced it from his brother, the latter +lifts his tree-trunk and strikes him dead. Having taken the ring +from his hand, he leisurely proceeds to finish his packing, while +the gods stand around appalled, and the air shudderingly resounds +with the notes of the curse. A long, solemn silence follows. Fafner +is seen, after a time, shouldering the sack, into which the whole of +the glimmering Hort has disappeared, and, bowed under its weight, +leaving for home. + +"Dreadful," says Wotan, deeply shaken; "I now perceive to be the +power of the curse!" Sorrow and fear lie crushingly upon his spirit. +Erda, who warned him of the power of the curse, now proven before his +eyes, warned him likewise of worse things, of old order changing, +a dark day dawning for the gods. He must seek Erda, learn more, +have counsel what to do. He is revolving such thoughts when Fricka, +who believes all their trouble now ended, approaches him with sweet +words, and directs his eyes to the beautiful dwelling hospitably +awaiting its masters. "An evil price I paid for the building!" +Wotan replies heavily. + +Mists are still hanging over the valley, clinging to the heights; +nor have the clouds yet wholly lifted from their spirits. Donner, +to clear the atmosphere, conjures a magnificent storm, by the blow +of his hammer bringing about thunder and lightning. When the black +cloud disperses which for a moment enveloped him and Froh on the +high rock from which he directs this festival of the elements, +a bright rainbow appears, forming a bridge between the rock and +the castle now shining in sunset light. A bridge of music is here +built, too; the tremulous weaving of it in tender and gorgeous +colours is seen through the ear, and its vaulting the valley with +an easy overarching spring. Froh, architect of the bridge, bids +the gods walk over it fearlessly: It is light but will prove solid +under their feet. + +Wotan stands sunk in contemplation of the castle; his reflections, +still upon the shameful circumstances of his bargain, are not happy. +In the midst of them he is struck by a great thought, and recovers +his courage and hardihood. The sharp, bright, resolute motif which +represents his inspiration is afterward indissolubly connected +with the Sword,--a sword aptly embodying his idea, which is one +of defence for his castle and clan. A suggestion of his idea is +contained, too, in the word which he gives to Fricka as the castle's +name, when he now invites her to accompany him thither: Walhalla, +Hall of the Slain in Battle, or, Hall of Heroes. + +Headed by Wotan and Fricka, the gods ascend toward the bridge. +Loge looks after them in mingled irony and contempt. "There they +hasten to their end, who fancy themselves so firmly established in +being. I am almost ashamed to have anything to do with them...." +And he revolves in his mind a scheme for turning into elemental fire +again and burning them all up, those blind gods. He is nonchalantly +adding himself to their train, when from the Rhine below rises +the lament of the Rhine-daughters, begging that their gold may +be given back to them. Wotan pauses with his foot on the bridge: +"What wail is that?" Loge enlightens him, and, at Wotan's annoyed, +"Accursed nixies! Stop their importunity!" calls down to them, +"You, down there in the water, what are you complaining about? +Hear what Wotan bids: No longer having the gold to shine for you, +make yourselves happy basking in the sunshine of this new pomp of +the gods!" Loud laughter from the gods greets this sally, and they +pass over the bridge, Walhalla-ward, followed by the water-nymphs' +wail for their lost gold, closing with the reproach, "Only in the +pleasant water-depths is truth; false and cowardly are those making +merry up there!" With Walhalla and rainbow shedding a radiance +around them of which we are made conscious through the delighted +sense of hearing, the curtain falls. + +So we lose sight of them, moving into their new house; in spite +of their glory a little like the first family of the county. But +while to triumphant strains they seek their serene stronghold, we +know that the lines have been laid for disaster. The Ring is in the +world, with its terrific power; and there is in the world one whom +wrong has turned into a deadly enemy, whose soul is undividedly bent +upon getting possession of the Ring, which Wotan may not himself +attempt to get--stopped, if not by Erda's warning or by terror of +the curse, by the fact that he finally gave it to the giants in +payment of an acknowledged debt, and that his spear stands precisely +for honor in relations of the sort. + + +THE VALKYRIE + +(DIE WALKUERE) + + +THE VALKYRIE + +(DIE WALKUERE) + + +I + +Wotan's idea, from which the abode of the gods received its name +of Walhalla, had been to people his halls with hordes of heroes +who should defend it from Alberich and his "army of the night." + +Erda's prophecy of a dark day dawning for the gods had destroyed +Wotan's peace. The craving to know more of this drove him to seek +her in the depths of the earth. He cast upon her the spell of love +and constrained her to speak. It does not appear that he gained +from her any clear knowledge of the future; he learned chiefly, as +we gather, what were the dangers besetting him. The end threatened +through Alberich's forces, which, however, could not prevail against +the heroic garrison of Walhalla unless Alberich should recover the +Ring; through the power of the Ring he would be able to estrange +the heroes from Wotan and, turning their arms against him, overcome +him. "When the dark enemy of love (Alberich) in wrath shall beget +a son," so ran Erda's warning, "the end of the Blessed shall not +be long delayed!" + +From Erda was born to Wotan a daughter, so near to her father's +heart that she seemed an incarnation of his most intimate wish, +his very will embodied; so part of himself she knew his unspoken +thought. This was Bruennhilde (from _Bruenne_, corslet). With eight +other daughters,--born to Wotan from "the tie of lawless love," +as we learn from Fricka in her tale of wrongs--Bruennhilde, the +dearest to him of all, followed her father to battle, serving him +as Valkyrie. These warlike maidens hovered over the battle-field, +directing the fortune of the day according to Wotan's determination, +protecting this combatant and seeing his death-doom executed upon +the other; they seized the heroes as they fell, and bore them to +Walhalla to form part of Wotan's guard. From these "Slain in Battle" +it was that Walhalla had its name. To make great their number, +Wotan, who earlier had by laws and compacts tried to bind men to +peace, now breathed into them a rough, bellicose spirit, goaded +them on to quarrel and revolt. + +That the end of the gods, if prophecy must fulfill itself, should not +be a contemptible or pitiful one, that was Wotan's preoccupation,--to +save, if nothing more, the dignity of the Eternals; with this in +view, to keep Alberich from recovering the Ring, by which he might +work such really disgusting havoc. The Ring was in the possession +of Fafner, who had turned himself into a dragon, and in a lonely +forest-girt cave guarded it and the rest of the treasure of the +Nibelungen, for the sake of which he had killed Fasolt, his brother. +Wotan, as we have seen, could not wrest from him the Ring which he +himself had given in payment for the building of Walhalla: for the +honour of his spear he must not attempt it. Alberich, not bound as +he was to keep his hands off it, must infallibly and indefatigably +be devising means to regain possession of it. It was plain to Wotan +that he must find some one to do that which he himself could not, +some one, who, unprompted by him, should yet accomplish his purposes, +some one free as he was not. This tool who was yet not to be his +tool, since a god's good faith demanded that neither directly nor +indirectly he should meddle with the Ring, Wotan supposed he had +created for himself in Siegmund, born to him, with a twin sister, +Sieglinde, of a human mother. This boy with whom, in human disguise, +under the names of Waelse and Wolf,--Wolf for his enemies, Waelse for +his kindred,--he lived in the wild woods, he reared in a spirit of +lawlessness, wild courage, disregard of the gods. We must suppose +it to have been for the sake of preventing association with women +from softening his disposition that, while Siegmund was a child, +Wotan, sacrificing to the hardness of fibre it was his object to +produce, permitted the catastrophe which deprived the boy of mother +and sister. Returning home from a day's wild chase,--hunters and +hunted alike human,--father and son found their dwelling burned +to the ground, the mother slain, the sister gone. They lived for +years together after that, in the woods, always in conflict with +enemies, of whom their peculiar daring and strength raised them +an infinite number. In time, when the son was well grown, Wotan +forsook him, left him to complete his development alone, under +the harsh training of the calamities and sorrows fatally incident +to the temper and manner of viewing things which that father had +bred in him. The lad received the usage of a sword in the forging, +extremes of furnace and ice-brook. So he stood at last, Wotan's +pupil and finished instrument, an embodied defiance of the law and +the gods, proper to do the work which the law of the gods forbade. +Some defence against the wrath which he must inevitably rouse, +his father could not but feel impelled to provide, yet could he +not, without violating the honour which in his simple-minded way +he was striving to preserve intact, give it to him directly. He +could not bestow upon him outright a _Sieges-schwert_--magical +sword which ensured victory. But he placed one where the young +man should find it. + +The piece opens with the blustering music of a storm, whose violence +is rapidly dying down. + +The curtain rises upon the interior of Hunding's very primitive +dwelling, built about a great ash-tree whose trunk stands in view. +Siegmund, predestined to be ever at strife with his fellow-man, in +circumstances of peculiar distress seeks the shelter of Hunding's +roof. We see him burst into the empty hall, staggering and panting. +His spear and shield have splintered beneath the enemies' strokes; +deprived of arms, he has been forced to flee; he has been so hotly +pursued, so beaten by the storm, that upon reaching this refuge he +can no more than drop beside the hearth and lie there, exhausted. + +It is his sister's house to which fate has led him, where, ill-starred +and unhappy like himself, this other child of Waelse's lives, in +subjection to Hunding, her lord, who has come by her through some +obscure commerce, and to whom she is no more than part of the household +baggage. + +Hearing the rustle of Siegmund's entrance, Sieglinde hurries in, +and, beholding a stranger outstretched upon the ground, stops short +to observe him. The strength of the prostrate body cannot fail to +strike her. At his gasped call for water, she hurries to fetch it +from the spring out of doors. His perishing need is shown in the +devotion with which he drains the horn she hands him. His eyes, as he +returns it, are arrested by her face, and dwell upon it with fearless +lingering scrutiny--while the strain for the first time trembles +upon the air which, singing the love of Siegmund and Sieglinde, is +to caress our hearing so many times more. His fatigue has magically +vanished. He asks to whom he owes the refreshment afforded him. +When, at her reply and request that he shall await Hunding's return, +he refers to himself as an unarmed and wounded guest, she eagerly +inquires of his wounds. But he jumps up, shaking off all thought +of wounds or weariness. His succinct narrative of the circumstances +which have brought him to her hearth, he brings to a close: "But +faster than I vanished from the mob of my pursuers, my weariness +has vanished from me. Night lay across my eyelids,--the sun now +smiles upon me anew!" She offers the guest mead to drink, at his +prayer tasting it before him. As he returns the emptied horn, again +his eyes dwell upon her face, with an emotion ever increasing. +Both gaze in simple undisguised intensity of interest. There is +a long moment's silence between them. Then, at the love he feels +surging in his bosom, remembrance comes to Siegmund of what he is,--a +man so ill-fated that it may well be feared his ill-fortune shall +infect those with whom he comes into contact. "You have relieved an +ill-fated man," he warns her, his voice unsteady with the pang of +this recognition, "may his wish turn ill-fortune from you! Sweetly +have I rested.... I will now fare further on my way!" As he turns +to the door she detains him with the quick cry: "What pursues you, +that you should thus flee?" He answers, slowly and sadly: "Misfortune +pursues me wherever I flee. Misfortune meets me wherever I go. From +you, woman, may it remain afar! I turn from you my footsteps and +my glance." His hand is on the latch, when her sharp involuntary +exclamation stops him: "Stay, then! You cannot bring sorrow into +a house where sorrow is already at home!" Deeply shaken by her +words, he fixes his eyes questioningly upon her. She meets them +for a moment, then drops her own, sad and half-ashamed. The motif +of the Waelsungen well expresses the nobility in misfortune of these +poor children of Waelse. Siegmund returns quietly to the hearth: +"Wehwalt is my name for myself. I will await Hunding." (_Weh_: +woe, sorrow, calamity, pain; _wallen_: to govern. _Wehwalt_: lord +of sorrows.) There is no further exchange of words while they wait, +but in complete unashamed absorption they gaze at each other, and +the music tells beautifully how it is within their hearts. Hunding's +horn is heard. (_Hund:_ hound. It was, as we learn later, this +amiable personage's custom to hunt his enemies with a pack of dogs.) +Startled from her trance, Sieglinde listens, and hastens to open. +Hunding appears in the doorway, a dark figure, in helmet, shield +and spear. At sight of the stranger, he questions his wife with a +look. "I found the man on the hearth, spent with weariness. Necessity +brings him to our house," she explains. There is some sternness +apparently in Hunding's tone as he inquires: "Have you offered him +refreshment?" for Siegmund, rash and instantaneous in the woman's +defence, speaks, hard on the heels of her answer: "I have to thank +her for shelter and drink. Will you therefor chide your wife?" +But Hunding, at his best in this moment, without retort welcomes +the guest: "Sacred is my hearth, sacred to you be my house!" and +orders his wife to set forth food for them. Catching Sieglinde's +eyes unconsciously fixed upon Siegmund, he glances quickly from +one to the other, and is struck by the resemblance between them; +but the luminous look they have in common he defines, with the +constitutional dislike of his kind to that freer, more generous +type: "The selfsame glittering serpent shines out of his eyes!" He +inquires of the circumstances which have brought this stranger to +his house, and finding that Siegmund has no idea whither his wild +flight has led him, introduces himself with a dignity which commends +to us, while he is doing it, the narrow-natured, unimaginative man: +"He whose roof covers you and whose house shelters you,--Hunding +your host is called. If you should from here turn your footsteps +eastward, there, in rich courts, dwell kinsmen, protectors of Hunding's +honour!" They seat themselves at table; the host asks for this +guest's name, and as Siegmund, plunged in thought, does not at +once reply, Hunding, remarking the interest with which his wife +waits for the stranger's words, sardonically encourages him: "If +you are in doubt about trusting me, yet give the information to +the lady here. See how eagerly she questions you!" And Sieglinde, +too deeply interested, verily, to mind the thrust, proceeds further +to give it point: "Guest, I should be glad to know who you are!" +Whereupon Siegmund, as little constrained by the husband's presence +as the wife herself, with his eyes upon hers, addressing her directly, +tells his story: of Wolf, his father, of the twin sister lost to him +in infancy, the enmity of the Neidingen clan, who in the absence +of the men burned down their house, slew the mother, abducted the +sister; of his life in the forest with Wolf, their numberless foes +and perpetual warfare. Hunding recalls vaguely wild dark tales he +has heard of the mighty pair, the Woelfingen. The disappearance of +his father, Siegmund further relates, from whom he had been separated +in a fight, and whom he could never, long though he sought, find +again, nor any trace of him save an empty wolf-skin. "Then,--" +follow the strange cruel fortunes this father had arranged for +him, "then I was impelled to forsake the woods, I was impelled +to seek men and women. As many as I found, and wherever I found +them,--whether I sought for friend, or wooed for woman, always I +met with denial, ill-fortune lay upon me!" With ingenuous wonder +he describes the natural fruits of the education bestowed on him +by Wotan: "What I thought right, others held to be wrong; what +had ever seemed to me abominable, others considered with favour. +I fell into feud wherever I was, anger fell upon me wherever I +went. If I reached out toward happiness, I never failed to bring +about calamity! For that reason it is I named myself Wehwalt, I +command calamity alone!" + +Hunding has listened attentively. His small superstitious heart has +taken alarm. "Fortune was not fond of you, who appointed for you +so miserable a lot. The man can hardly welcome you with gladness, +whom, a stranger to him, you approach as a guest." With a vivacity +which cannot have been the common habit of her intercourse with +her husband, Sieglinde pronounces judgment aloud and at once upon +this ungenerous speech and speaker, whose prudence must certainly, +in contrast with the Waelsung's frank magnificence of courage, seem +to her unspeakably bourgeois: "Only cowards fear one going his way +unarmed and alone!" And turning again eagerly to the guest: "Tell +further, guest, how you lately lost your arms in battle!" Siegmund +as eagerly satisfies her. The circumstances which he describes +further exemplify the disposition fostered in him by his father, +his non-recognition or acceptance of established law and custom, +however sacred, his pursuit of an ideal unattached to any convention: +He had lost his arms in the attempt to defend a damsel against +her own immediate family, bent upon marrying her against her +inclination. He had slain her brothers, whereupon the maiden, as +another perhaps would have foreseen, had cast herself upon their +bodies, sorrow annulling her resentment. He had stood over her, +shielding her from the vengeance of her kindred pressing around. His +armour had been shattered; the girl lay dead on her dead brothers. +Wounded and weaponless, he had been chased by the infuriate horde. +"Now you know, inquiring woman," he closes his narrative, "why +I do not bear the name of Friedmund!" (_Frieden:_ peace.) With +this simple sally, whose bitterness is not enough to crumple the +serene forehead, he rises and walks to the hearth, striding to +the noble march-measure we know as the motif of the heroism of +the Waelsungen,--proud in its first bars, with Siegmund's pride, +tender in the last, with Sieglinde's tenderness, loftily mournful +throughout. + +"I know a wild race of men," now speaks Hunding, "to whom nothing +is holy of all that is revered by others; hated are they of all +men--and of me!" He then reveals how he himself had that day been +called out for vengeance with his clan against this officious champion +of damsels. He had arrived too late for action, and returning home, +behold, discovers the fugitive miscreant in his own house! As he +granted the stranger hospitality for the night, his house shall +shelter him for that length of time; but "with strong weapons arm +yourself to-morrow," he grimly warns him; "it is the day I choose +for combat; you shall pay me a price for the dead!" When Sieglinde +in alarm places herself between the two men, Hunding orders her +roughly: "Out of the room! Loiter not here! Prepare my night-drink +and wait for me to go to rest!" Siegmund, smothering his anger, +stands in contemptuous composure beside the hearth; his eyes frankly +follow every movement of the woman as she prepares Hunding's drink. +On her way out of the room, she pauses at the threshold of the +inner chamber, and seeking Siegmund's eyes with her own, tries +by a long significant glance to direct his glance to a spot in +the ash-tree. The sword-motif, distinct and sharp, accompanies her +look. Hunding, becoming aware of her lingering, with a peremptory +gesture orders her again to be gone; and gathering up his own armour, +with a warning to the Woelfing that on the morrow he will strike +home,--let him have a care!--withdraws, audibly bolting the door +behind him. + +Left alone, Siegmund lies down beside the dying fire. To remove +himself during the night as far as possible from Hunding's reach +is not the solution suggesting itself naturally to him. Yet there +he stands, pledged to meet an enemy, and not a weapon to his hand +of offence or defence. The difficulty of his position is certainly +as great as could be, and, reaching the full consciousness of it, he +recalls to mind that his father had promised him a sword, which he +should find in the hour of his greatest need. "Unarmed I am fallen +in the house of the enemy; here I rest, devoted to his vengeance. +A woman I have seen, gloriously fair.... She to whom my longing +draws me, who with a rapturous charm constrains me, is held in +thraldom by the man who mocks my unarmed condition...." Could need, +indeed, be greater? With the whole strength of that need, in a +cry, long, urgent, fit to pierce the walls of Walhalla, he calls +upon his father for the promised sword: "Waelse! Waelse! Where is +your sword?..." + +A flame leaps from the embers and illuminates the ash-tree, bringing +into view, at the spot Sieglinde had indicated to him with her +eyes, a sword-hilt. But though his eyes are caught by the glitter, +he does not recognise it for what it is; he watches it, without +moving, as it shines in the firelight, and, lover-like, soon lapsing +into undivided dreaming of the "flower-fair woman," plays tenderly +with the conceit of the gleam on the ash-tree being the trace of +her last bright glance. Forgetting his swordlessness and altogether +unpromising plight, he goes on weaving poetry about her until the +fire is quite out and he so nearly dozes that when a white form +comes gliding through the door bolted by Hunding, he does not stir +until addressed: "Guest, are you asleep?" + +Sieglinde has mixed narcotic herbs in her husband's drink, and +bids the stranger make use of the night to provide for his safety. +"Let me advise you of a weapon.... Oh, might you obtain it! The +most splendid of heroes I must call you, for it is destined to +the strongest alone." And she relates how at the marriage-feast +of Hunding, while the men drank, and the woman who "unconsulted +had been offered him for wife by ignoble traffickers" sat sadly +apart, a stranger appeared, an elderly man in grey garb, whose +hat-brim concealed one of his eyes. But the brilliant beam of the +other eye created terror in the bystanders,--all save herself, in +whom it aroused an aching longing, sorrow and comfort in equal +measure. The sword in his hand he swung, and drove into the ash-tree +up to the hilt, leaving it there, a prize to whomsoever should +be able to draw it out. The men present had all made the essay +in vain; guests coming and going since then had tried, equally +without success. "There in silence waits the sword." There in the +ash-tree. "Then I knew," Sieglinde concludes, "who it was had come +to me in my sorrow. I know, too, who it is alone can conquer the +sword. Oh, might I find him here and now, that friend; might he, +from the unknown, come to me, most wretched of women! All I have +ever suffered of cruel woe, all the shame and indignity under which +I have bowed,--sweetest amends would be made for it all! All I ever +lost, all I ever mourned, I should have recovered it all,--if I +might find that supreme friend, if my arm might clasp that hero!" +Siegmund, to whom it could not occur for the fraction of a second +to doubt his strength to draw any sword from any tree, at these +words catches her impetuously to his breast: "The friend now clasps +you, fairest of women, for whom weapon and woman were meant! Hot +in my breast burns the oath which, noble one, weds me to you!" +and, in her very strain: "All I ever yearned for, I met in you! +In you I found all I ever lacked. If you suffered ignominy and I +endured pain, if I was outlawed and you were dishonoured, a joyful +revenge now calls to us happy ones! I laugh aloud in a holy elation, +as I hold you, radiant one, embraced, as I feel the throbbing of +your heart!" + +The great door of the hall, silently, without apparent reason, +swings wide open, like a great curious eye unclosing to watch this +beautiful marvel of their love, expanded so suddenly, like a huge +aloe-flower. It lets in a flood of moonlight, and the glimmering +vision of the vapourous green-lit nocturnal Spring-world. "Who +went out?... Who came in?" cries Sieglinde, starting in alarm. +"No one went," Siegmund reassures her, "but some one came: See, +the Spring laughing in the room!" And he pours forth poetry of +adorable inspiration, in explanation of the singular action of +the door: Spring was outside, and Love, his sister, inside; Spring +burst open the severing door, and now, brother and sister, Love +and the Spring, are met! + +It is touching, the capacity for happiness the two have accumulated +in the long, thwarted years. An ecstatic joy marks this hour of +forgetting all the world outside themselves; the love-music is +all of a fine free sustained rapture. One poignant and subtle and +profound thing she says to him: "Foreign and unrelated to me seemed +until now everything I saw, hostile everything which approached +me. As if I had never known them were always the things that came +to me.... But you I knew at once, clearly and distinctly; my eye +no sooner beheld you, than you belonged to me; and all that lay +concealed within my breast, the thing which I verily am, bright +as the day it rose to the surface; like a ringing sound it smote +my ear, when in the cold lonesome strange world for the first time +I beheld my Friend!" + +Seated in the light of the full moon, they have freedom at last +each to pore over the other's winning beauty. She is struck, fondly +peering into his features, with the sense of having seen him before; +and trying to think when and where reaches the assurance that it was +on the surface of the pool which reflected her own image. Again, +when he speaks, she is struck by the assurance that she has heard his +voice before. She thinks, for a moment, that it was in childhood,... +but corrects the impression by a second: she has heard it recently, +when the echo in the woods gave back her own voice. His luminous +eyes she has seen before: thus shone the glance of the grey guest +at the wedding-feast, whom his daughter recognised by that token. +Earnestly she asks this other guest: "Is your name in very truth +Wehwalt?" "That is no longer my name since you love me!" he replies +exuberantly, "I command now the sublimest joys!... Do you call me +as you wish me to be called: I will take my name from you!" "And +was your father indeed Wolf?" "A Wolf he was to cowardly foxes. +But he whose eye shone with as proud an effulgence as, Glorious One, +does yours, Waelse was his name!" Beside herself with joy, Sieglinde +springs up: "If Waelse was your father--if you are a Waelsung, for +you it was he drove his sword into the tree-trunk. Let me give +you the name by which I love you: Siegmund shall you be called!" +Siegmund leaps to seize the sword-handle: "Siegmund is my name, +and Siegmund am I! (_Sieg_: victory.) Let this sword bear witness, +which fearlessly I seize! Waelse promised me that I should find it +in my greatest need. I grasp it now...." Very characteristically, +this greatest need, as he feels it, is not the need of a weapon with +which to defend his life against Hunding; it is, in his soaring +words: "Highest need of a holiest love, devouring need of a love +full of longing, burns bright in my breast, drives me onward to +deeds and to death.... Nothung! Nothung! So do I name you, sword! +(_Noth_: need. _Nothung_: sword-in-need.) Nothung! Nothung! Out +of the scabbard, to me!" With a mighty tug he draws it forth and +holds it before the marvelling eyes of Sieglinde: "Siegmund the +Waelsung stands before you, woman! As a wedding-gift he brings you +this sword. Thus he wooes the fairest of women; from the enemy's +house thus he leads you forth. Far from here follow him now, out +in the laughing house of the Spring. There Nothung, the sword, +shall protect you, when Siegmund lies overthrown, in the power of +love!" "If your are Siegmund," cries the woman, "I am Sieglinde, +who have so longed for you! Your own sister you have won at the same +time as the sword!" Siegmund is given no pause by this revelation. +At the realisation of this double dearness, the joy flares all +the higher of the lawless pupil of Wotan. "Bride and sister are +you to your brother. Let the blood of the Waelsungen flourish!" +And with arms entertwined, forth they take their madly exulting +hearts out into the "laughing house of the Spring." + +II + +The rising of the curtain for the second act reveals a wild +mountain-pass where Wotan, in a vast good-humour, is giving instructions +to Bruennhilde with regard to the impending meeting between the injured +husband and the abductor of his wife. Victory is allotted to Siegmund; +Hunding, "let them choose him to whom he belongs; he is not wanted +in Walhalla!" In Wotan's complacency the satisfaction speaks of +this thought: At last, at last, a change of fortune,--victory to +the Waelsung, after a trial of his mettle so severe and prolonged +it must have broken a spirit less admirably tempered. The Valkyrie, +in delight over the charge to her, breaks into her jubilant war-cry, +checking herself as she perceives Fricka approaching in the chariot +drawn by rams, and judges from the goddess's merciless urging of +the panting beasts that she comes for a _Zank_, a "scold," with +her husband. "The old storm!" murmurs Wotan, at sight of his liege +lady dismounting and coming toward him with ultramajestic gait, "the +old trouble! But I must stand and face her!" The scene following +has a touch of comical in its resemblance to domestic scenes among +less high-born characters, as, for instance, when Fricka says, "Look +me in the eye! Do not think to deceive me!" or "Do you imagine that +you can deceive me, who night and day have been hard upon your +heels?" Fricka, the guardian of marriage, has come to demand justice +for Hunding, vengeance upon the "insolently criminal couple." "What," +asks Wotan, an unguarded and tender indulgence in his tone, "what +have they done that is so evil, the couple brought into loving +union by the Spring?..." "Do you feign not to understand me?" is in +effect Fricka's return; "for the holy vow of marriage, the deeply +insulted, I raise my voice in complaint...." "I regard that vow as +unholy," says Wotan,--and the source is flagrant from which Siegmund +has drawn his unpopular rules of conduct,--"which binds together +those who do not love each other." But the case in question, Fricka +protests, is not one simply of broken marriage-vow, "When--when +was it ever known that brother and sister might stand toward each +other in the nuptial relation?" "This day you have known it!" the +worthy teacher of Siegmund meets her; and, all his paternal affection +finding its imprudent way into his accents: "That those two love each +other is clear to you. Wherefore, take honest advice: if blessed +comfort is to reward your blessing, do you bless, laughing with +love, the union of Siegmund and Sieglinde!" Upon this, as is hardly +unnatural, the furious storm breaks over the indiscreet god; a +storm of reproach, in part for personal wrongs, which the outraged +goddess details, in part for his failure as ruler of the earth to +maintain law and right, to observe the boundaries established by +himself. At the end of it, rather feebly, he tells her, in defence +of his position, the thing which he had not confided to her before, +plain enough indication that the goddess, to win whom he had given +an eye, is not of his bosom's counsel any more. "This know! There +is need of a hero who without aid from the gods should cast off +the law of the gods. Such a one alone can compass the act which, +however much the gods may need it done, no god can himself do." +"And what may the great thing be," the dull august shrew inquires, +"that a hero can do which the gods cannot, through whose grace alone +a hero acts?... What makes men brave? Through your inspiration +alone they are strong. With new falsehoods you are trying to elude +me, but this Waelsung you shall not be able to save. Through him +I strike at you, for it is through you alone he defies me!" "In +wild sorrows," Wotan ventures, with deep emotion, "he grew up, +by himself. My protection never helped him!" "Then do not protect +him to-day!" she pursues, hatefully righteous, "take away from +him the sword you gave him." "The sword?..." Her suggestion is +a very sword for Wotan's heart. "Yes, the sword, strong with a +charm, which you bestowed on your son." "Siegmund conquered it +for himself in his need." The deep strain here shudders out its +passion of repressed resentment and grief, which after this darkly +underlines Wotan's misery. "You created the need, as you created +the sword," she follows him up with clear-sighted accusation, almost +voluble. "For him you drove it into the tree-trunk. You promised +him the goodly weapon. Will you deny that it was your own stratagem +which guided him to the spot where he should find it?" The effect +of her words upon Wotan--to whom this mirror held up to him reveals +the weakness of his scheme to create a hero who should act for +himself, unprompted, against the gods, yet in the very manner the +case of the gods demanded--still increases his wife's assurance. +"What do you require?" asks Wotan at last, in gloom, heart-struck. +"That you should sever from the Waelsung!" "Let him go his way!" Wotan +acquiesces, smothered by this horrible, yet so clear, necessity. +"But you, protect him not, when the avenger calls him out to fight!" +"I--protect him not!" "Turn from him the Valkyrie!" "Let the Valkyrie +determine as she will!" "Nay, she solely carries out your wishes.... +Forbid her the victory of Siegmund!" "I cannot deal him defeat!" +protests Wotan, in anguish, "he found my sword!" "Withdraw the +charm from the sword. Let it snap in the knave's hand. Let the +adversary behold him without defence!... Here comes your warlike +maid.... This day must her shield protect the sacred honour of your +wife. My honour demands the fall of the Waelsung. Have I Wotan's +oath?" The unhappy god casts himself upon a rocky seat, in helpless +loathing, and the terrible consent falls forced from his lips: "Take +the oath!" Fricka, with proud tread turning from him to remount +her chariot, stops to address Bruennhilde: "The Father of Armies is +waiting for you. Let him tell you how he has appointed the fortune +of battle." + +Wotan sits with his head in his hands, like any humblest mortal +hard put to it. It has been brought home to him sharply enough +that the thing is not to be done, on the accomplishment of which he +had so fondly built. It is not that an angry wife has interfered; +it is that her argument has been sound, and that for the sake of +his world a god cannot trespass against the laws he has himself +made for it. It is, in fact, that kings less than others can do +as they choose; that if in this he should follow his desire, it +would, as Fricka has pointed out, "be all over with the everlasting +gods!" But, to sacrifice the Waelsung, "brought up in wild sorrows" +for this very purpose which is to be relinquished; the Waelsung who +in his young life has had but one draught at the cup of joy!... +It is no wonder that Wotan utters his lamentation: "Oh, divine +ignominy! Oh, woful disgrace! Distress of the gods! Distress of +the gods! Immeasurable wrath! Eternal regret! The saddest am I +among all!" + +The darling of his heart, Bruennhilde, torn by his cry, casts from +her all her Valkyrie accoutrements, and, woman merely and daughter, +kneels at his feet, presses her cheek against him, begging to be +trusted: "Confide in me! I am true to you. See, Bruennhilde pleads!" + +He hesitates, while sorely yearning for the comfort. "If I utter +it aloud, shall I not be loosing the grasp of my will?" "To Wotan's +will you speak in speaking to me. Who am I, if not your will?" + +With the assurance to himself: "With myself solely I take counsel, +in talking to you,..." he relates to Bruennhilde all the events which +have brought about this intolerable position, a long story: the +first mistake in trusting Loge; the mistake in possessing himself +of the Ring; what he has since done to obviate the effect of his +mistakes, and done, as is now shown, in vain. "How did I cunningly +seek to deceive myself! So easily Fricka exposed my fallacies! To +my deepest shame she looked through me. I must yield to her will." +"You will take away then the victory from Siegmund?" "I touched +Alberich's Ring," Wotan replies, "covetously I held the gold. The +curse which I fled from, flees not from me! What I love I must +desert, murder what from all time I have held dear, treacherously +betray him who trusts me!..." Again, it is no wonder his tormented +soul breaks forth in lamentation. The mighty groan of Wotan has, +if ever groan had, adequate cause, and his longing for "the end! +the end!" With grim comfort he recalls at this moment that the +end cannot be far,--not if there be truth in the prophecy of Erda: +"When the dark enemy of love shall in wrath beget a son, the end of +the Immortals will not be long delayed." For the loveless Alberich, +as Wotan knows, has by means of gold won the favour of a woman, +and the "fruit of hatred" is on its way toward the light. "Take +my blessing, son of the Nibelung!" cries Wotan in his dark mood; +"the thing which sickens me with loathing, I bestow it upon you +for an inheritance: the empty splendour of the gods!" + +"Oh, tell me, what shall your child do?" entreats the daughter, +shaken by the sight of her father's passion. "Fight straightforwardly +for Fricka," he orders her, in the excess of bitterness; "what +she has chosen I choose likewise; of what good to me is a will +of my own?" "Oh, retract that word!" she beseeches, "you love +Siegmund.... Never shall your discordant dual directions enlist +me against him. For your own sake, I know it, I will protect the +Waelsung!" At this first intimation of rebellion in his child,--this +incipient treachery of his own will,--Wotan becomes stern, lays +down his command irrevocably, with threats of crushing retribution +if this child of his shall dare to palter with his expressed will. +"Keep a watch over yourself! Hold yourself in strong constraint! +Put forth all your valour in the fight!... Have well in mind what +I command: Siegmund is to fall! This be the Valkyrie's task!" + +Bruennhilde gazes after him in wonder and fear as he storms up over +the rocky ascent out of sight: "I never saw Sieg-vater like that!" +Sadly she resumes her armour, woe-begone at the thought of the +Waelsung, given over to death. Becoming aware of the approach of +Siegmund and Sieglinde, she hastens from sight. + +Sieglinde enters, fleeing in distraction from Siegmund, anxious +in pursuit. The presumption of those seeing her action without +understanding her words, is commonly, I suppose, that remorse has +overtaken her for her breach of the moral law. Remorse, indeed, has +assailed her, but not for having followed the "luminous brother." +It is for having ever belonged to Hunding, whom she neither loved +nor was loved by. The new sentiment of love so completely possessing +her places her former union in the light of unspeakable pollution, +and she adjures the "noble one" to depart from the accursed who +brings him such a dowry of shame. Siegmund with sturdy tenderness +assures her that whatever shame there is shall be washed away in +the blood of him who is responsible for it, whose heart Nothung +shall cleave. An insanity of terror seizes Sieglinde at the thought +of the meeting between the two men, the vision besetting her of +Siegmund torn by Hunding's dogs, against the multitude of which +his sword is of no use. At the picture painted by her delirium +of Siegmund's fall, shocked as if at the actual sight of it, she +sinks unconscious in his arms. + +Having ascertained that she has not ceased to breathe, almost glad +perhaps for her of this respite from self-torment, he lets her +gently down on to the ground, and seats himself so as to make an +easy resting-place for her head. + +Thus the Valkyrie finds them. At her approach, three solemn notes +are heard which intimate as if something awful and not to be +escaped--whose solemn awfulness consists in great part of the fact +that it cannot be escaped,--like Fate. "Siegmund!" she calls him, +with firm voice, "look upon me! I am that one whom in short space +you must follow!" Siegmund lifts his eyes from the sleeping face +upon which they have been fondly brooding, and beholds the shining +apparition. "Who are you, tell me, appearing to me, so beautiful +and grave?" "Only those about to die can see my face. He who beholds +me must depart from the light of life. On the field of battle I +appear to the noble alone. He who becomes aware of me, has been +singled out for my capture!" Siegmund gazes quietly and long and +inquiringly into her eyes, and: "The hero who must follow you, +whither do you take him?" "To the Father of Battles who has elected +you, I shall lead you. To Walhalla you shall follow me." "In the +hall of Walhalla shall I find none but the Father of Battles?" +"The glorious assemblage of departed heroes shall gather around +you companionably, with high and holy salutation." "Shall I in +Walhalla find Waelse, my own father?" "The Waelsung shall find his +father there." "Shall I in Walhalla be greeted gladsomely by a woman?" +"Divine wish-maidens there hold sway; the daughter of Wotan shall +trustily proffer you drink." "Unearthly fair are you; I recognise +the holy child of Wotan; but one thing tell me, you Immortal! Shall +the bride and sister accompany the brother? Shall Siegmund clasp +Sieglinde there?" "The air of earth she still must breathe. Siegmund +shall not find Sieglinde there!" The hero bends over the unconscious +woman, kisses her softly on the brow, and turns quietly again to +Bruennhilde: "Then bear my greeting to Walhalla! Greet for me Wotan, +greet for me Waelse and all the heroes; greet for me likewise the +benign wish-maidens: I will not follow you to them!" + +In this strangely impressive and moving dialogue, the Bruennhilde-part +is upborne on the stately, high and cold Walhalla theme; the +Siegmund-part gives over and over one urgent heartful questioning +phrase, filled with human yearning and sorrow: the motif of love +and death. "Where Sieglinde lives in joy or sorrow, there will +Siegmund likewise abide,..." he pronounces. When he is informed +that he has no choice but to follow, that he is to fall through +Hunding, that its virtue has been withdrawn from his sword, justly +incensed, he declares that if this be true,--if he, shame to him! +who forged for him the sword, allotted him ignominy in place of +victory, he will not go to Walhalla, Hella shall hold him fast! + +"So little do you care for eternal joy?" the Valkyrie asks wistfully; +"all in all to you is the poor woman who, tired and full of trouble, +lies strengthless in your lap? Nothing beside do you deem of high +value?" Inexpressibly moved at the manifestation before her of the +warmth and depth of this human affection, she begs him to place +his wife under her protection. He replies passionately that no +one while he lives shall touch the Stainless One, that if he must +indeed die, he will first slay her in her sleep. Bruennhilde, in +great emotion, begs still more urgently, "Entrust her to me, for +the sake of the pledge of love which she took from you in joy!" +But Siegmund, all the more firmly fixed in his resolve, lifts his +sword, and grimly offering Nothung two lives at one blow, swings it +above the sleeping woman. The Valkyrie at this can no longer keep +in bounds the surging flood of her compassion: "Hold, Waelsung!" she +restrains his arm, "Sieglinde shall live, and with her Siegmund!... +I change about the doom of battle. To you, Siegmund, I apportion +blessed victory...." With injunctions to place his trust in the +sword and the Valkyrie, bidding him farewell till they shall meet +on the field, she disappears. Siegmund, with heart restored to +gladness, bends over Sieglinde again; listens to her breathing +and studies her face, now smiling, as he sees, in quiet sleep. +"Sleep on!" he speaks to her, "till the battle has been fought and +peace shall rejoice you!" + +Hunding's horn has already been heard, calling out the adversary. +Siegmund lays Sieglinde gently down, and, Nothung in hand, rushes +to the encounter. A storm has been gathering, a cloud has settled +over the mountain-tops. Sieglinde, left alone, murmurs in her sleep. +Her broken sentences reveal her dream: She is a child again and +the scene is reenacted to her of the conflagration which ended +her life in the forest with father and mother and twin. She starts +awake in affright, calling Siegmund, and finds herself alone. She +hears her husband's horn and his call to Wehwalt to stand and meet +him. She hears Siegmund's arrogant reply. She cannot see them for +the black storm-scud, but calls on them to stop, to kill her first. +A flash of lightning shows Hunding and Siegmund fighting on a high +point of the rocky pass. Sieglinde is rushing toward them, when +a sudden glare blinds her. In the light, Bruennhilde is seen hard +at Siegmund's side, defending him with her shield. "Strike home, +Siegmund! Trust to the victorious sword!" Siegmund raises his sword +for a deathblow to Hunding, when a fiery beam drops through the +storm-cloud; in the red glow of it is distinguished the form of +Wotan at Hunding's side, holding his spear between the combatants. +His voice is heard, terrible: "Back from the spear! To pieces, +the sword!" Nothung snaps against the spear, and, run through the +body by his adversary, Siegmund falls. Sieglinde hears his dying +sigh--the strong heart stops on a brief snatch, pathetic, of the +motif of the heroism of the Waelsungen--She drops to earth, stunned. +In the gloom, Bruennhilde, who has retreated before the angry father's +spear, is seen lifting Sieglinde and hurrying off: "To horse! that +I may save you!" + +Long and mournfully Wotan gazes upon the fallen Siegmund--best-beloved +perhaps of all the Wagner heroes. Taking account suddenly of the +presence of Hunding, "Begone, slave!" he orders, "kneel before +Fricka, inform her that Wotan's spear has taken vengeance of that +which brought mockery upon her!... Begone!... Begone!..." But at +the gesture with which the command is emphasised, Hunding drops +dead, crushed out of life by the god's contempt. + +Abruptly recalled to the thought of his child's contumacy, Wotan +starts up in terrific wrath: "But Bruennhilde! Woe to that offender! +Dreadful shall be the punishment meted to her audacity, when my +horse overtakes her in her flight!" Amid lightning and thunder, +aptly symbolising the state of his temper, the god vanishes from +sight. + +III + +The third act shows the scene, a high rocky peak rising from among +great pine-trees, where the Valkyries assemble for their return +together to the hall of Wotan. On the clouds they come riding, each +with a dead warrior laid across her steed. Over the neighing and +hoof-beats, the music develops of a lightly thundering cavalry-charge, +suggestive of the rocking in the saddle of horsemen borne over +billowing expanses--glorious with the glory of the hosts which +fancy sees among the crimson and gold banners of the sunset. The +eight are at last arrived; their war-cries, their hard laughter, +and the shrill neighing of the battle-steeds mingle in harsh harmony. +The shrieks of an autumn gale, exulting in its freedom to drive +the waves mountain-high and scatter all the leaves of the forest, +have the same quality of wildness and force and glee. The +steel-corseleted figures clustered on the peak make one think a +little of gleaming dragon-flies seen in summer, swarming as they +do around some point of mysterious interest. The laughter of the +Valkyries is for grim jests they exchange over the conduct of their +horses, who fall to fighting with one another, because the dead +warriors on their backs were enemies in life. Bruennhilde only is +wanting, to complete their number, but they dare not start for +Walhalla without her, lest Walvater, not seeing his favourite, +should receive them with a frown. They are amazed, when they finally +see her coming, to descry on the back of her horse no warrior, but +a woman--amazed, likewise, at the wild speed of Grane's flight, +and to see him stagger and drop on reaching the goal. They hurry +to Bruennhilde's assistance. She comes in, breathless with terror +and haste, supporting Sieglinde. Wotan, she informs the wondering +sisters, is hot in pursuit of her. She begs one of them to keep +lookout for him from the top of the peak. The black storm-cloud on +which he rides is perceived sweeping toward them from the north. +To the questioning Valkyries Bruennhilde gives in quick outline +the story of her disobedience, and implores their help to save +Sieglinde,--for the Waelsungen all Wotan has threatened with destruction. +She conjures them, too, to conceal herself, who has not the hardihood +to face her father in the extremity of his indignation. But the +sisters are appalled at the revelation of her misdeed, and no less +at the suggestion that they should join in her act of rebellion. +Her prayer for the loan of one of their horses on which the woman +may escape, meets with obtuse looks, headshakes, uncompromising +denial. She is appealing urgently, hurriedly, to one after the +other, when Sieglinde who, stony, death-struck, dazed with grief, +has appeared unconscious, up to this moment, of all taking place +around her, stops her, stating dully that there is no need to trouble +about her, since her only wish is to die. She indeed reproaches +Bruennhilde for her care, and bids her now, if she is not to curse +her for their flight, to end her life by a thrust of the sword. In +the next moment the face of this same woman sheds the very radiance +of joy: the Valkyrie has revealed to her that of her a Waelsung shall +be born. Then, oh, "Save me, you valiant one!" she cries. "Save +my child! Protect me, you maidens, with your mightiest protection! +Save me! Save the mother!" She kneels to them. The cool-blooded +spinsters are moved by this, but not to the point of braving Wotan's +ire. "Then fly in haste, and fly alone!" Bruennhilde with sudden +resolve bids Sieglinde: "I will remain behind and draw upon me, +delaying him, Wotan's anger." "In what direction shall I go?" asks +the woman eagerly. Eastward, one of the sisters tells her, lies a +forest. Fafner there, in the shape of a dragon, guards the treasure +of the Nibelungen. An unsuitable place for a helpless woman, yet +one where she will be safe from Wotan, for the god, it has been +observed, shuns it. "Away then to eastward," Bruennhilde instructs +Sieglinde; "with undaunted courage bear every trial. Hunger and +thirst, thorns and stony roads--do you laugh at want and sorrow, +for one thing know, and keep it ever in mind: the most exalted hero +in the world, O woman, shall be born of you!" A great melodious +phrase describes him, the future Siegfried, as if with one magnificent +stroke outlining a form of heroic beauty and valour. Bruennhilde +gives Sieglinde the pieces of Siegmund's sword, gathered up from +the field after the ill-fated encounter. "He who one day shall +swing this sword newly welded together, let him take his name from +me: As Siegfried let him rejoice in victory!" From the soul of +Sieglinde rises a soaring song of gratitude and praise, a song +of purest, highest joy. Her last words to Bruennhilde, as clasping +to her breast the broken sword she hastens away, are, interpreted: +"My gratitude shall one day reward you, smiling at you in human +form!... Farewell! Sieglinde in her woe calls down blessings upon +you!" + +The storm-cloud has reached the rock, Wotan's voice is heard: +"Bruennhilde, stand!" At the sound of it, Bruennhilde's heart fails +her; the hearts of the sisters, too, soften. Crowding together on +the rocky peak, they let the culprit cower out of sight among them. +But Wotan is not deceived; he addresses to the hidden daughter such +sharp and searching reproaches that, her fear for herself losing +all importance as these strike her heart, she steps forth from +among the sister-Valkyries and meekly stands before her father, +awaiting condemnation. + +"Not I," he speaks, "punish you. Yourself you have framed your +punishment!" And he exposes how by forgetting the whole duty of a +Valkyrie--to deal victory or defeat according to Wotan's decree--she +had made herself in effect no longer a Valkyrie. "No more shall I +send you from Walhalla.... No longer shall you bring warriors to +my hall.... From the tribe of the gods you are cut off, rejected +from the eternal line.... Our tie is severed.... You are banished +from my face!" The sisters break into lamentation. "Upon this mountain +I banish you. In undefended sleep I shall seal you. Let the man +then capture the maid who finds her upon his road and wakes her." +The sisters endeavour to restrain him, pointing out that their +own honour will suffer from such a scandal. He rejects this on +the ground that they have nothing more whatever to do with the +faithless sister. "A husband is to win her feminine favor; masterful +man is henceforth to have her duty. By the fireside she shall sit +and spin, an object of scorn to all beholders!" Bruennhilde drops +at his feet, overwhelmed. Cries of horror and protest break from +the others; he drives them from his presence with the threat of a +similar fate to Bruennhilde's if they do not forthwith depart from +her, and keep afar from the rock where she suffers her sentence. +In a confusion of terror, which is not without the slightest point +of humour, the strong girls flee like leaves in the blast before +Wotan's menace,--and Bruennhilde is left alone to plead her poor +cause with the stern incensed father. + +She conjures him first to silence his anger, and define to her +the dark fault which has impelled him to reject the most loyal +of his children. "I carried out your order," she protests. "Did +I order you to fight for the Waelsung?" he inquires. "You did," +she reminds him. "But I took back my instructions." "When Fricka +had estranged you from your own mind.... Not wise am I, but this +one thing I knew, that the Waelsung was dear to you. I was aware of +the conflict which compelled you to turn from the remembrance of +this.... I kept in sight for you that which, painfully divided in +feeling, you must turn your back upon. Thus it was that I saw what +you could not see. I saw Siegmund. I stood before him announcing +death. I met his eye, I heard his voice, I apprehended the hero's +ineffable distress.... I witnessed that which struck the heart +in my bosom with awe and trembling. Timid and wondering I stood +before him, in shame. I could think only how I might serve him.... +And confidently counting upon an intimate understanding of him who +had bred that love in my heart,--of that will which had attached +me to the Waelsung,--I disobeyed your command!" + +Wotan, in meeting this, shows how he is not merely a father dealing +with a disobedient child, but a man in strife with himself, with +his own will which has betrayed him into following affection, +inclination, when duty called for an opposite course. "If thy right +hand offend thee, cut if off and cast it from thee." Bruennhilde +is to Wotan that offending flesh and blood, and the safety of the +future depends, it seems, upon his breaking his own heart by cutting +her off from himself. She has done what his heart would have had +him do; but for interests whose claim upon him is in his estimation +greater than that of affection (_einer Welt zu Liebe_: for the sake +of a world), he had elected not to follow his heart's impulse. And +this delinquent, daughter at once and his own will, must not only +be punished for the example of all the disobedient, but cut off +from himself, to provide absolutely against any possible repetition +of the so lovable and forgivable offence. + +Bruennhilde, when she has heard him out, has no word further of +argument or defence, but acquiesces with sad submissiveness. "Certainly +the foolish maiden is no fit helpmate for you, who, confused by +your amazing counsel, did not understand your mind, when her own +mind prompted one thing only: to love that which you loved!" She +accepts the punishment as just, only: "If you are to sever that +which was bound together," she pleads, "to keep apart from yourself +the very half of yourself, that I was once completely one with +you, O god, forget it not! Your immortal part you cannot wish to +dishonour. You cannot intend an ignominy which involves you.... +Yourself you would be degraded, if you gave me over to insult!" +"You followed, light of heart, the call of love," Wotan replies +unconcedingly: "follow now him whom you must love!" "If I must +depart from Walhalla, if I am to be your companion and servant +no more," Bruennhilde pressingly continues, "if my obedience is +to be given to masterful man, not of a coward and braggart let +me be the prize! Let him not be worthless who shall win me!" "You +cut yourself off from Walvater," he repulses her; "he cannot choose +for you!" "A noble generation there is, having its origin in you--" +Bruennhilde suggests, still unquelled, the point is so vital to her; +"the most admirable of heroes, I know it, is to spring from the +line of the Waelsungen...." "Not a word of the Waelsungen!" Wotan +fiercely interrupts. "When I severed from you, I severed from them. +Doomed to destruction is that line!" Sieglinde has been saved, +Bruennhilde informs him, who shall give birth to the Waelsung of +whom she speaks. Wotan sternly silences her: let her not seek to +shake his firmness. He cannot choose for her! He has loitered too +long already. He cannot stop to consider what her wishes are, nothing +further has he to do with her but to see his sentence executed. + +What has he devised for her punishment, she asks. + +He repeats his earlier sentence: "In deep sleep I shall seal you. +He who awakes the defenceless sleeper, shall have her to wife." +Bruennhilde falls on her knees to him. "If I am to be bound in fast +sleep, an easy prey to the most ignoble of men, this one prayer +you shall grant which a noble terror lifts to you: Let the sleeper +be protected by a barrier of fright-inspiring things, that only +a fearless and great-hearted hero may be able to reach me on my +mountain-peak!" "Too much you demand! Too much of favour!" She +clasps his knees, and with the wildest inspiration of terror: "This +one prayer you must--must listen to! At your command let a great +fire spring up. Let the summit be surrounded by fierce flames, +whose tongues shall lick up and whose teeth shall devour any caitiff +venturing near to the formidable place!" So is her whole soul heard +to cry aloud in this prayer, as she pleads for so much more than her +life, that all by which Wotan had fortified himself against her, +and which had been subjected to an assault so prolonged, suddenly +gives way, his weary heart is pierced. Overcome by emotion, he +lifts her to her feet; he gazes long into her eyes, reading her +soul there,--then amply, fully, with the whole of his overflowing +heart, grants her prayer: "Farewell, O dauntless, glorious child! +Holy pride of my heart, farewell! Farewell! Farewell! If I must +shun you, if I am never more fondly to greet you, if you are no +more to ride at my side, or reach me the cup of mead; if I am to +lose you whom I so have loved, O laughing joy of my eyes--a bridal +bonfire shall blaze for you such as never yet blazed for a bride! A +flaming barrier shall girdle the rock; with burning terror-signals +it shall frighten away the coward. The fainthearted shall keep afar +from Bruennhilde's rock. That one alone shall win the bride, who +is freer than I--the god!" In a speechless ecstasy of gratitude, +Bruennhilde sinks on his breast, and he holds her long silently +clasped, while there floats heavenward as if the very voice of +their relieved, pacified, uplifted hearts. Supporting her in his +arms, gazing tenderly in her upturned face, he takes his last leave +of her. There is a passage in Wotan's farewell which seems to contain, +compressed into it, all the yearning ache of all farewells, with +all the sweetness of the love which makes parting bitter. "For the +last time.... Farewell.... The last kiss...." These words occur +upon it. The motif it seems of the tragedy of last times; one wonders +could custom ever so harden him to it that he should feel no clutch +at the heart in hearing it. "For the last time I appease myself with +the last kiss of farewell.... Upon a happier mortal the star of +your eye shall beam. Upon the unhappy Immortal it must, in parting, +close. For thus does the god turn away from you, thus does he kiss +away your divinity!" He presses a long kiss upon each of her eyes, +and the first languor of sleep falling at once upon her, she leans, +without strength, against him. He supports her to a mossy knoll +beneath a spreading pine-tree, and lays her gently upon it; after +a long brooding look at her face, closes her helmet; after a long +look at her sleeping form, covers it with the great Valkyrie shield; +places her spear beside her, and with a last long sad look at the +slumbering motionless figure, turns away,--having effectually desolated +himself of the three dearest of his children. + +Resolutely striding from the sleeper, he summons Loge, and commands +him in his original form of elemental fire to surround the +mountain-summit. At the shock of his spear against the rock, a +flame flashes and rapidly spreads. With his spear Wotan traces +the course the fire is to follow, girdling the peak. Nimbly it +leaps from point to point, till the whole background is fringed +with flame. At Wotan's words, "Let no one who is afraid of my spear +ever break through the fiery barrier!" there falls, prophetic, +across the dream of Bruennhilde's charmed sleep, the great shadow +of the Deliverer, so distant yet in time, Siegfried, who when the +hour came of test was found to fear Wotan's spear as little as +he feared anything else. + +With that firm spell placed upon his magnificent and adequate fence, +Wotan departs; and, guarded by the singing flames, which weave +into the rhythm of their bright dance the tenderest of lullabies, +Bruennhilde is left to her long rest. + + +SIEGFRIED + + +SIEGFRIED + +I + +Fafner, when he had become possessor of the Nibelungen treasure, +conveyed it, as we have seen, to a cave in a lonesome forest, and +there in the shape of a dragon mounted guard over it. Mime, the dwarf, +in order to keep the same treasure under some sort of oversight, +took up his abode in the forest, at a respectful distance from the +flame-breathing monster. Alberich haunted the immediate neighbourhood +of the cave. + +Thus it happened that Sieglinde, directed by the Valkyries to that +region, where she should be safest from Wotan's anger, was overheard +by Mime, out in the lonesome wood, moaning in her trouble. He assisted +her into his cave. There Siegfried was born, and there Sieglinde +died. Mime reared the "Waelsungen-shoot" with solicitous care, in +the ulterior view that this scion of a strong race when grown to +man's size should kill Fafner for him and get him the Ring. + +At the rise of the curtain we see Mime at his anvil, struggling with +a heavy difficulty. He is fashioning a sword for Siegfried,--still +another sword, after ever so many,--realising even as he works that +no sword he can forge but will break in the lad's strong hands. +"The best sword I ever forged, which in the hands of a giant would +stand stiff, the insignificant stripling for whom it was shaped +he whacks and snaps it in two, as if I had made him a child's +plaything!" It is sober fact to Mime that he cannot use Siegfried +for his purposes until he have equipped him with a sword. "A sword +there is," he continues his meditation, "which he could not break. +The fragments of Nothung he never could shatter, could I weld the +strong pieces together, which all my art cannot compass! Nothung +alone could be of use,... and I cannot weld it, Nothung, the sword!" + +Half-heartedly he has resumed his toil, when a joyous shout is +heard from the forest, of which a sun-shot patch glimmers through +the cave's mouth, and there storms in, driving before him a tethered +bear, a magnificent youth, clad in skins, a silver horn at his side. +The splendour of Siegfried's appearance is constantly referred +to, the qualifications applied to him suggesting most frequently +an effect he shed of light. This child of the unhappy Waelsungen +seems to have been indelibly stamped with the joy of their one +golden hour. Of Siegmund's tragic consciousness of frustration, +of Sieglinde's sufferings, there is no trace in their vigorous +offspring; but the superabundant vitality of joy which lifted them +to the lovers' seventh heaven for one triumphant hour is all in his +young blood. He is big, strong, sane, comely, fearless, simple, +ignorant of all mean passions and interests; pensive for moments, +gay for hours-nearly boisterous; frank and outspoken to the point +of brutality; unmannerly at times to the point of ruffianism; but +the dice are loaded to secure our cherishing him right through his +bright course, by that irresistible, ingrain joyousness of his, +born of strength, balance, fearlessness. + +Laughing immoderately, he urges the bear against Mime, who flees +hither and thither to elude the fearful pair. "I am come in double +force, the better to corner you.... Brownie, ask for the sword!" +When assured by the trembling Mime that the sword is in readiness, +he releases and sends home his shaggy ally. But when Mime hands him +the newly finished sword, and he strikes it on the anvil, it flies +to bits. The angry boy expresses his wish that he had smashed the +sword on the disgraceful bungler's skull. "Shall such a braggart go +on bragging? He prates me of giants and lusty fighting; of gallant +deeds and solid armour; he will forge weapons for me, provide me with +swords; he vaunts his art as if he could do something of account; +but let me take hold of the thing he has hammered, with a single +grip I crush flat the idle rubbish! If the creature were not so +utterly mean, I would drop him into the forge-fire with all the +stuff of his forging, the old imbecile hobgoblin! There might be +an end then to vexation!" He casts himself fuming on a stone seat +and turns his face toward the wall. The dwarf, who has kept his +distance from the storming youth, tries to quiet him, reminds him +of his benefits, of his teachings on the subject of gratitude. +Ingratiatingly he brings him food. Siegfried without turning dashes +spit and pipkin from his hands. The little man affects a deeply +hurt sensibility. He rehearses at length all Siegfried has to thank +him for, material necessities, education,--"With clever counsel +I made you clever, with subtle wisdom I taught you wit...." This +tale of benefactions has been gone over so often that the dwarf has +reached a fine glibness in it; the smooth air on which he enumerates +the instances of his kindness has a peculiar cast of hypocrisy. He +is so touched by the contemplation finally of his own goodness +and Siegfried's hardness of heart that he falls to weeping. "And +for all I have borne this is now the reward, that the hot-tempered +boy torments and hates me!" + +Siegfried has been calmly gazing into Mime's eyes; trying through +these to get at the truth of him. Mime expresses surprise that +after so many unquestionable services the boy should hate him; and +the boy is not himself without a touch of wonder at the invincible +antipathy with which this creature inspires him, to whom yet he is +actually indebted for many good offices. "Much you have taught me, +Mime, and many a thing have I learned of you; but that which you +have most cared to teach me, never have I succeeded in learning: +how I could bear the sight of you! If you bring me food and drink, +disgust takes the place of dinner; if you spread an easy couch for +me, sleep on it becomes difficult; if you endeavour to teach me +wise conversation, I prefer to be dumb and dull. Whenever I set +eyes on you, I recognise as ill-done everything you do; whether I +watch you stand, or waggle and walk, ducking, nidnodding, blinking +with your eyes, my impulse is to catch the nidnodder by the scruff +of the neck, to hurl out of the way for good and all the odious +blinker! That is my manner, Mime, of being fond of you. Now, if +you are wise, help me to know a thing which I have vainly reflected +upon: I run into the woods to be rid of you; how does it happen +that I come back? All animals are dearer to me than you, trees +and birds, the fish in the stream, I am fonder of them all than +I am of you; then how does it happen that I still come back? If +you are wise, make clear to me this thing!" "My child," replies +Mime, "you are informed by that circumstance how near I lie to +your heart!" "I tell you I cannot bear you! Forget it not so soon!" +Mime argues that such a thing is impossible, is out of nature; +that what to the young bird is the old bird, which feeds it in the +nest until it is fledged, that is to Siegfried, inevitably, Mime! +This simile of Mime's suggests to Siegfried a further question. In +asking it he has one of those brief accesses of pensiveness which +endear him, disclosing the existence of a common human tenderness, +after all, under that sturdy wrapping of joy befitting the child +of demigods. "Now, since you are so wise, tell me still another +thing: When the birds were singing so blithely in Spring, the one +luring the other, you told me, as I wished to know, that they were +male and female. They billed and cooed so engagingly, and would not +leave each other; they built a nest and brooded in it; there was +a fluttering presently of young wings, and the two cared for the +young. I saw how, in the same way, the deer rested in the forest, +in pairs; how even wild faxes and wolves did this. The male brought +food to the lair, the female nursed the cubs. I learned from seeing +this what love is--I never robbed the mother of her young...." The +music has been heaving and falling, as if with the warm palpitation +of a vast breast, Nature's own, blissful with love and happy creative +force. "Now, where, Mime, is your loving mate, that I may call her +mother?" Mime becomes cross: "What has come over you, mad boy? +Now, what a numbskull it is! Are you a bird or a fox?" And at +Siegfried's next question he chafes: "You are to believe what I tell +you: I am your father and mother at the same time!" But Siegfried +vigorously objects: "There you lie, unspeakable gawk! How the young +resemble their parents I have luckily observed for myself. More +than once I have come to a clear stream: I have seen the trees +and animals mirrored in it; the sun and clouds, exactly as they +are, appear repeated on the shining surface. My own image, too, I +have seen. Altogether different from you I seemed to myself: there +is as much likeness between a toad and a gleaming fish, but never +yet did a fish crawl out of a toad!" This latter bit in its short +extent gives an amusing, characteristic illustration of Wagner's +method of painting with notes. With the first phrase, Siegfried's +impatient exclamation, comes the motif of Siegfried's impetuosity; +then, as he is describing it, a representation of the clear stream; +upon this is sketched the image of Siegfried, in the notes of his +proper motif, to which is added a bar of the heroism-of-the-Waelsungen +motif, indicating his resemblance to the father before him. At his +mention of the toad, his metaphor for Mime, we hear the hammer of +the Nibelung; and at his mention of the gleaming fish, the swimming +phrase that accompanies the watery evolutions of the Rhine-maidens. +The ingeniousness of all this would not perhaps of itself especially +recommend the piece, were it not that the scheme is worked out to +such beautiful purpose that the whole thing is lovely, and that, +though one should know nothing whatever of the motifs, his ear +must be charmed. + +Satisfied by his own logic that Mime cannot be his progenitor, +Siegfried now himself answers his earlier question: "When I run +into the woods in the thought of forsaking you, how does it happen +that I still return home? It is because from you I am to learn who +are my father and mother!" Mime evades him: "What father! What +mother! Idle question!" But Siegfried catches him by the throat, +and the terrified dwarf communicates, grudgingly, a scant fact or +two of his history. "Oh, ungrateful and wicked child! now hear +for what it is you hate me. I am neither your father nor any kin +of yours, and yet to me you owe your life...." Making his own part +in the story as meritorious as possible, he relates his taking +into shelter the woman whom he had found moaning out in the wild +woods. Siegfried, for once penetrated with sadness, wonder, and +awe, breathes forth softly, when the sorrowful story is ended, +"My mother--died then--of me?" He tries by questions to complete +the dwarf's bare account: "Whence am I named Siegfried?" "Thus +did your mother bid me call you." "What was my mother's name?" +Mime feigns to have forgotten, but, roughly pressed, recalls it. +"Then, I ask you, what was my father's name?" "Him I never saw!" +"But my mother spoke the name?" "She only said that he had been +slain." Siegfried is smitten with the suspicion that Mime may be +lying to him, and demands some proof of all this which he has heard. +Mime, after a moment's resistance, in terror of the boy's rising +wrath, fetches from its hiding and shows him the pieces of a broken +sword. "This was given me by your mother. For trouble, cost and +care, she left it as paltry remuneration. Behold it! A broken sword! +Your father, she said, carried it in the last battle, when he was +slain." Siegfried's strong good spirits have already returned. +"And these fragments," he cries, with enthusiasm, "you are to weld +together for me. Then I shall swing my proper sword! Hurry, Mime! +Quick to work!... Cheat me not with trumpery toys! In these fragments +alone I place my faith. If I find you idle, if you join them +imperfectly, if there are flaws in the hard steel, you shall learn +burnishing from me! For this very day, I swear it, I mean to have +the sword!" "What do you want this very day of the sword?" Mime +inquires in alarm. Siegfried, his heart inexpressibly lightened +by the positive knowledge that Mime is neither father nor any kin +to him, bursts into merry singing: "To go away, out of the woods +into the world. Never shall I come back!... As the fish gaily swims +in the flood, as the finch freely flies afar, so shall I fly, so +shall I dart... that I may never, Mime, see you more!" Off he storms +into the forest, leaving Mime shouting after him, a prey to the +utmost anxiety. The dwarf's difficulty is now twofold: "To the +old care I have a new one added!" How to retain the wild fellow +and guide him to Fafner's nest, and how to mend those pieces of +stubborn steel. "No forge is there whose glow can soften the +thorough-bred fragments. No dwarf's hammer can compel the hard +pieces...." In unmitigated despair, void of counsel, he drops on +his seat behind the anvil and weeps. + +Ushered by great calm chords, measured and dignified as the gait +of a god on his travels, a wayfarer appears at the entrance of the +cave. He wears an ample deep-blue mantle, and for staff carries +a spear. On his head is a broad hat, the brim of which dips so +as to conceal one of his eyes. It is Wotan. Since parting from +Bruennhilde he has had no heart for warfare, no heart to ride to +battle without the "laughing joy of his eyes." Alone, unresting, +he has wandered all over the wide earth in search of counsel and, +very likely, distraction. A spectator he is in these days and not +an actor. His spirit has reached a state of philosophic calm. He has +learned better certainly than to meddle any more with anything that +concerns the accursed Ring. He is brought into the neighbourhood of +the still interested actors in that old drama in part by curiosity; +in part, no doubt, by the wish to watch the actions of Siegfried, his +beloved children's child. But in some faintest degree, at least, it +would seem, he is brought here by the invincible need to influence +these fortunes just a little, though it be firmly fixed that he +is not to try directly or indirectly to divert the Ring into any +channel which shall bring it eventually to himself. All else being +equal, he had a little rather strengthen Mime's chances of getting +the Ring, through Siegfried, than inactively see it fall to the +inveterate enemy, Alberich. + +At the greeting he speaks from the threshold to the "wise smith," +Mime starts up in affright: "Who is it, pursuing me into the forest +wilderness?" "Wanderer is the world's name for me. Far have I wandered, +much have I bestirred myself on the back of the earth." "Then bestir +yourself now! and do not loiter here, if Wanderer is the world's name +for you!" Mime, with his head full of his dark little projects, has +a deep dread of spies and interference. At every step the Wanderer +takes further into his dwelling, he utters a sharper protest; and at +every protest the Wanderer calmly advances a step further. "Through +much research, much have I learned," speaks Wanderer, "I could +impart to many a one things of importance to him; I could deliver +many a one from that which troubles him--from the gnawing care +of the heart." And after still another irritated dismissal from +Mime: "Many a one has imagined himself to be wise, but the thing +which he most needed to know, he knew not. I gave him leave to ask +me what should help him, and enlightened him by my word." And after +again being nervously shown the door: "Here I sit by the fireside," +speaks blandly Wanderer, suiting the action to the word, "and I +set my head as stake in a match of wits. My head is yours, you +have won it, if you do not, by questioning me, succeed in learning +what shall profit you; if I do not, by my instructions, redeem the +pledge." + +It is plain enough that if Mime would now expose to the Wanderer +the source of the gnawing care at his heart, and ask him how Nothung +might be welded, he would receive the information. Wotan is clearly +eager to give it, yet cannot do so directly, or he would be too +crudely meddling again in the Ring affair: he cannot press on him +his counsel, but, at his old trick of ingenuous double-dealing, +might by means of this guessing-game make shift to convey it to +him. + +Mime, old and wise as he is, has yet in certain directions a dwarfed +understanding; certainly not enough generosity to trust anybody, +or conceive of a disinterested desire to do him a good turn. His +whole concern now is how to be rid of this large tactless personage. +"I must question him in such a manner as to trap him," he says to +himself. It is agreed that he shall have three questions. He sits +brooding a moment, trying to find something very difficult indeed. +The motif of Mime's cogitations, which has already been frequently +heard in this act, gives amusingly the unheroic colour of the sordid +little mind's workings. He fixes upon questions concerning things +which might be supposed little known to a wanderer of human descent, +even such a much-travelled and conceited one. First: What race +reigns in the depths of the earth? Second: What race rests upon the +back of the earth? Third: What race dwells on the cloudy heights? +Wotan readily answers all these, giving bits of the histories of +the races in question, the Nibelungen, the Giants, and the Gods. +As he describes the spear of Wotan, whose lord all must eternally +obey, he with an involuntary gesture of command brings his spear +hard down on the stone floor. Faint thunder results. Terror falls +upon Mime, who by the light shining for a moment from his countenance, +has recognised the god. "You have solved the questions and saved your +head," he says hurriedly, without looking Wotan in the face. "Now, +Wanderer, go your way!" But the Wanderer declares that according to +custom in such contests, it is the dwarf's turn now to answer three +questions or lose his head. "It is a long time," Mime ventures timidly, +"since I left my native place; a long time since I departed from the +bosom of earth, my mother; I once saw the gleam of Wotan's eye as +he looked into the cave; my mother-wit dwindles before him...." +But the wee fellow has no mean conceit of his wisdom, and is really +not as uneasy as might be expected of one in his position. "Perhaps +I shall be so lucky," he suggests, not without complacency, "as, +under this compulsion, to deliver the dwarf's head!" Wotan asks him, +for the first question,--and the pain of the memories oppressing +him is translated to us by the motif of parting, the motif of "last +times," while the god's tones are infinitely tender--"What race is +it to which Wotan shows himself stern, and which yet he loves the +best of all living?" Glibly Mime answers, showing a full acquaintance +with the circumstances, "The Waelsungen." Wotan passes on to the +second question: "A wise Nibelung keeps watch over Siegfried. He +is to kill Fafner for him, that he may get the Ring and become +lord of the Hort. What sword now must Siegfried wield, if he is +to deal death to Fafner?" Mime, delighted with himself, readily +replies: "Nothung is the name of a notable sword.... The fragments +of it are preserved by a wise smith, for he knows that with the +Wotan-sword alone an intrepid stupid boy, Siegfried, shall destroy +the dragon." He rubs his hands in goblin glee. "Am I, dwarf, in +the second instance still to retain my head?" Wanderer, with a +laugh for his antics, felicitates him: "The most keen-witted are +you among the wise; who can equal you in acuteness? But seeing you +are so cunning as to use the boyish hero for your dwarf-purposes, +with the third question I now make bold: Tell me, wise armourer, +who, out of the strong fragments, shall forge Nothung anew?" +Consternation falls upon the dwarf. Who, indeed? Was not that question +the very hub around which turned all his troubled reflections? Had +it not been that which was forcing tears from him at the moment +of the Wanderer's arrival? He runs hither and thither distracted, +in broken exclamations admitting that he himself cannot forge the +sword, and how should he know who can perform the miracle? The +Wanderer rises from his seat beside the hearth. "Three questions +you were free to ask. Three times I was open to consultation. You +inquired of things idle and remote, but that which was closest to +you, that which might profit you, did not enter your mind. Now +that I have guessed it, you lose your senses with fright. I have +won the witty head. Now, brave conqueror of Fafner, hear, doomed +dwarf: Only one who has never known fear can forge Nothung anew." +On his way to the mouth of the cave, he turns for another word to +the chap-fallen Mime: "Look out for your wise head from this day +forth: I leave it in forfeit to him who has never learned fear!" +With a laugh for the double-horned dilemma in which he leaves the +"honest dwarf," he passes forth into the woods. + +As Mime gazes after him, violent trembling seizes the poor little +smith. The flashing among the leaves of Wotan's winged horse his +terror mistakes for the flaming of Fafner's gaping jaws; and the +sound of a rushing approach for the monster crashing toward him +through the underbrush. With the cry: "The dragon is upon me! Fafner! +Fafner!" he cowers behind the anvil. + +The alarming noise proves to have been only Siegfried coming with +characteristic impetuosity to ask for his sword. "Hey, there! +Lazy-bones! Have you finished? Quick! What success with the sword?" +Mime is not in sight. His voice is heard, faint, from his hiding-place: +"Is it you, child? Are you alone?" Siegfried for some time can draw +no satisfactory answer from him, no matter how roughly pressed. +The dwarf is caught between two difficulties, and must first of all +things try to think out for himself the safest course of action. +Only by one who has never known fear can Nothung, the indispensable, +be forged. "Too wise am I for such work!" he soliloquizes. On the +other hand, his wise head is forfeit to one who has never learned +fear. Of the two difficulties, the latter is obviously the one to +be first attended to. Siegfried fills the description dangerously +well of the foretold fatal enemy. "How shall I contrive to teach +him fear?" is Mime's nearest interest. Siegfried, irritated by +his continued hesitation, finally catches hold of him. "Ha? Must +I lend a hand? What have you forged and furbished to-day?" "With +no care but for your welfare," answers Mime, "I was sunk in thought +as to how I should instruct you in a thing of great importance." +"You were sunk quite under the seat," laughs Siegfried; "what of +great importance did you discover there?" "I there learned fear +for your sake, that I might teach it to you, dunce." "What about +fear?" Siegfried asks. "You know nothing about it, and you are +thinking of going from the woods out into the world? Of what use +to you would be the strongest sword, if you had no knowledge of +fear?... Into the crafty world I shall not let you fare before you +have learned fear." "If it is an art, why am I unacquainted with +it? Out with it! What about fear?" "Have you never felt,"--asks +Mime, in a voice which at the suggestion of his own words falls to +quaking, "have you never felt, in the dark woods, at twilight,... when +there are sounds in the distance of rustling, humming and soughing, +when wild muttering gusts sweep past, disorderly fire-wisps flicker +around you, a swelling confused sound surges toward you,--have +you not felt a shuddering horror seize upon your limbs? A burning +chill shakes your frame, your senses swim and fail; the alarmed +heart trembling in your breast hammers to the point of bursting? +If you have never felt these things, fear is unknown to you!" The +music of fear is a darkened and discoloured fire-music through +which we recognise, as if under a disguise veiling something of its +beauty, the motif of Bruennhilde's sleep. If one looks for reasons, +one can suppose the reference to be, as to a type of fearful things, +to the terror-inspiring barrier surrounding Bruennhilde; and imagine +a jesting intimation that fear, as Siegfried should eventually +learn it, is the sensation suspending the heart-beats at sight of +a beautiful woman in her sleep. + +Siegfried has listened to Mime in amused wonder: "Strange exceedingly +must that be! My heart, I feel, stands firm and hard in its place. +That creeping and shuddering, glowing and shivering, turning hot +and turning dizzy, hammering and trembling, I wish to feel the +terror of it, I long for that delight! But how can you, Mime, bring +it about?" "Just follow me. I will guide you to some purpose. I +have thought it all out. I know a dreadful dragon; he has slain +already and swallowed many; Fafner will teach you fear, if you +follow me to his lair." "Where is his lair?" "Neidhoehle it is called. +(_Neid:_ envy; _Hoehle:_ cavern.) Eastward it lies at the end of the +wood." "Then it is not far from the world?" "The world is close +by." "You are to take me there, and when I have learned fear, away, +into the world! So quick! Give me my sword! I will swing it out in +the world!" Mime confesses that he neither has mended, nor ever +can mend, the sword in question. "No dwarf's strength is equal to +it. More likely," he suggests, "one who knows no fear may discover +the art!" Siegfried, heartily weary of Mime's paltering, snatches up +the fragments of Nothung: "Here, the pieces! Away with the bungler! +My father's steel doubtless will let itself be welded by me. Myself +I will forge the sword!" And he falls to work. "If you had taken +diligent pains to learn the art, it would now, of a truth, profit +you," remarks Mime; "but you were always lazy at the lesson. What +proper work can you do now?" "What the master cannot do," Siegfried +aptly retorts, "the apprentice might, if he had always minded him? +Take yourself off! Meddle not with this, or you may tumble with it +into the fire!" He heaps fuel on the hearth, fastens the sword in +a vice and starts filing it. Mime watches him, and at this which +looks like folly, cannot restrain the exclamation: "What are you +doing? Take the solder! You are filing away the file!" But the +disposition of the young fellow without fear shows in his method +with the sword. With a brave thoroughness he reduces the whole +blade to steel filings. Mime follows all his movements. "Now I +am as old as this cavern and these woods, but such a thing have I +never seen! He will succeed with the sword, that I plainly apprehend. +In his fearlessness he will make it whole. The Wanderer knew it +well! How, now, shall I hide my endangered head? It is forfeit to +the intrepid boy unless Fafner shall teach him fear--But, woe's +me, poor wretch, how will he slay the dragon, if he learns fear from +him? How will he obtain the Ring for me? Accursed dilemma! Here +am I fast caught, unless I find me wise counsel how to bring under +compulsion the fearless one himself...." "Quick, Mime!" Siegfried +interrupts Mime's meditations; "what is the name of the sword which +I have ground into filings?" "Nothung is the name of the notable +sword; your mother gave me the information." Siegfried at work +falls to lusty singing, a song of primitive character, of a kind +with what one can suppose Tubal-cain singing at his ancient anvil. +We see him pumping the forge-bellows while the steel melts, pouring +the metal into a mould, cooling the mould in a water-trough, breaking +the plaster, heating the sword, hammering the red blade, cooling +it again, riveting the handle, polishing the whole,--all of which +actions his song celebrates: "Nothung! Nothung! Notable sword! +(_Neidliches Schwert_ is literally "covetable sword") Why must +you of old be shattered? To powder I have ground your sharp +magnificence. I now melt the filings in the crucible. Hoho! Hoho! +Hahei! Hahei! Blow, bellows, brighten the glow! Wild in the forest +grew a tree. I hewed it down, I burned the brown ash to charcoal. +It lies heaped now on the hearth. The coals of the tree, how bravely +they burn, how bright and clear they glow! Upward they fly in a +spray of sparks and melt the steel-dust. Nothung! Nothung! Notable +sword! Your powdered steel is melting, in your own sweat you are +swimming, soon I shall swing you as my sword!" + +Mime during this has been revolving his own problem, and has hit +upon a plan which seems to him to meet all the difficulties of +his case: Siegfried, beyond a doubt, will forge the sword and kill +Fafner. While he is tired and heated from the encounter, Mime will +offer him a drink brewed from simples of his culling, a few drops +of which will plunge the boy into deep sleep, when, with the weapon +he is at this moment forging, Mime will clear him out of the way and +take possession of Ring and treasure. Enchanted with his inspiration, +he sets to work at once preparing the somniferous drink. + +Siegfried is singing at the top of his lungs: "In the water flowed +the stream of fire, it hissed aloud in anger, but the cold tamed +and chilled it; in the water it flows no more, stiff and hard it +is become, the lordly steel--but hot blood will bathe it soon. +Now sweat again that I may forge you, Nothung, notable sword!" He +catches sight of Mime pottering with the cooking utensils. "There +is a wise smith come to shame," the old man answers the youth's +mocking inquiry; "the teacher receives lessons from his pupil; +all is up with art for the old one, he will serve the young one +as cook! While the young one makes iron into broth, the old one +will prepare a dish of eggs!" With impish relish of the inwardness +of the situation, he stirs the mixture in the pot. + +"Hoho! Hahei! Hoho!" Siegfried proceeds with his work and his singing; +"shape, my hammer, a hard sword! Blood once dyed your pallid blue, +its trickling red brightened you, you laughed coldly, you cooled +off the hot liquid. Now the fire has made you glow red, your soft +hardness yields to the hammer; you dart angry sparks at me, because +I have tamed you, stubborn! The merry sparks, how they delight +me! Anger adorns the brave. You are gaily laughing at me, though +you feign to be angry and sullen. Hoho! Hahei! By means of heat +and hammer I have achieved it, with stalwart blows I have shaped +you; now let the red shame vanish, become as hard and cold as you +can...." + +Mime is meanwhile revelling in dreams of the greatness which is +to follow upon his acquisition of the Ring. He fairly skips up +and down as he thinks of it all: Brother Alberich himself reduced +to subjection, the whole world bowing at the nod of his, Mime's, +head. No more toil, others to toil for him.... "Mime is king, Prince +of the Nibelungen, lord over all! Hei, Mime! who would have thought +it of you?" + +"Nothung! Nothung! Notable sword!" harmoniously bellows Siegfried; +"now you are fast in your hilt. You were in two, I have forced you +into one. No blow after this shall break you. In the dead father's +hand the steel snapped, the living son forged it anew; now its +bright gleam flashes like laughter, its sharp edge cuts clean. +Nothung! Nothung! Young and renewed! I have brought you back to +life. You lay dead there, in fragments; now you flash lightning, +defiant and brave! Show caitiffs your gleam! Strike the traitor! +Fell the villain!" He waves over his head the finished sword: "Look, +Mime, you smith--thus cuts Siegfried's sword!" He brings it down +upon the anvil, which falls apart, cleft from top to bottom. Mime +tumbles over with amazement. + +II + +The next scene shows the woods before Fafner's cave. It is night. +Alberich is dimly distinguishable, lurking among the rocks, brooding +his dark thoughts, as he keeps covert watch over the treasure. He +is startled by what seems an untimely break of day, accompanied by +a great gust of wind. This defines itself as a galloping gleam--a +shining horse rushing through the forest. "Is it already the slayer +of the dragon?" he wonders; "is it he, already, who shall kill +Fafner?" A moonbeam breaking through the clouds reveals the form +of the Wanderer advancing toward Neidhoehle. The enemies see and +recognise each other. Alberich, though greatly alarmed at this +inopportune presence, breaks into angry vituperation: "Out of the +way, shameless robber.... Your intrigues have done harm enough!" +"I am come to look on, not to act," Wotan replies, grandly mild and +unruffled; "who shall deny me a wanderer's right of way?" Alberich, +as if words of offence were actually missiles, showers them thick +upon the unmoved god. He points out, virulently, the strength of +his own position compared with Wotan's, in whose hand that spear +of his must fly to pieces should he break a covenant established +as sacred by the runes carved on its shaft. Wanderer, a shade weary +of such a berating, yet losing little of his placidity, retorts: +"Not through any runes of truth to covenants did my spear bind +you, malignant, to me; you my spear forces to bow before me by +its strength; I carefully keep it therefore for purposes of war." +"How haughtily do you threaten in your defiant strength," the rabid +Alberich continues, "yet how uneasy is all within your breast.... +Doomed to death through my curse is Fafner, guardian of the treasure. +Who will inherit from him? Will the illustrious Hort come once +more into the possession of the Nibelung? The thought gnaws you +with unsleeping care. For, let me hold it again in this fist, far +otherwise than thick-witted giants shall I employ the power of the +Ring; then let the holy keeper of the heroes tremble; the heights +of Walhalla I shall storm with the hosts of Hella, the world then +will be mine to govern!" Tranquilly Wotan receives this: "I know +your meaning, but it creates in me no uneasiness. He shall rule +through the Ring who obtains it." This calm of Wotan's gives Alberich +the idea that the god must, so to speak, have cards up his sleeve. +"On the sons of heroes," he suggests ironically, "you place your +insolent reliance, fond blossoms of your own blood. Good care have +you taken of a young fellow--not so?--who cunningly shall pluck the +fruit which you dare not yourself break off?" "Not with me"--Wotan +cuts short the discussion, "wrangle with Mime. Danger threatens you +through your brother. He is bringing to this spot a youth who is +to slay Fafner for him. The boy knows nothing of me. The Nibelung +uses him for his own purposes. Wherefore, I tell you, comrade, +do freely as you choose!" Alberich can scarcely believe that he +has heard aright. "You will keep your hand from the treasure?" +Serenely and broadly, Wotan declares--a touch of that tenderness +in his tone which the thought of the Waelsungen always has power +to arouse--"Whom I love I leave to act for himself: let him stand +or fall, his own lord is he. I have no use save for heroes!" This +sounds very fair; to Alberich almost too fair. He presses Wotan +with further questions. The answers are elusive as oracles, but +satisfy Alberich of thus much: that Wotan is himself out of the +struggle for the Ring. To point his personal disinterestedness, +the god even offers to wake the dragon, that Alberich may warn +him of the approaching danger and peradventure receive in token of +gratitude--the Ring! We suspect in this Wotan's taste for a joke, +unless it be an exhibition of that other trait of the god's, the +need to gratify his conscience with a comedy of fairness. At this +moment he is not, it is true, interfering; but he is confidently +watching the play of forces set working by him long ago. The strong +Siegfried armed with the rejuvenated Sieges-schwert is a force +having its impulse originally from him. At this moment, perhaps +because the events immediately impending have cast their shadows +across the sensitive consciousness of an at times prophet, he is +in no uneasiness whatever with regard to the fate of the Ring. To +Alberich's mystification, he actually rouses Fafner. "Who disturbs +my sleep?" comes a hollow roar from the cave. The Fafner-motif +is the old motif of the giants, slightly altered so that instead +of the ponderous tread of the brothers it suggests the muffled +ponderous beat of a gigantic sinister heart. Wotan and Alberich +explain to the dragon his danger and indicate what may buy him +safety. Having heard them out, Fafner, unseen in the cave, gives +a long lazy comfortable yawn. "I lie and possess! Let me sleep!" +Wotan laughs. "Well, Alberich, the plan failed. But abuse me no +more, you rogue! One thing, I further enjoin you, keep well in +mind: Everything is after its kind, and this kind you cannot alter!" +The broad Erda-motif accompanies this maxim. "Take a firm stand! Put +your skill to use with Mime, your brother. He is of the kind you +understand better. What is of a different kind, learn now to know, +too...." When Wotan disappears, the galloping is heard, through the +storm-wind that for a moment agitates the leaves of the forest, +of his rising Luft-ross. His obscure last words have left Alberich +puzzled, sorer and angrier than ever. The air is full of curse-motif. +"Laugh on, you light-minded luxurious tribe of the gods! I shall +still see you all gone to destruction. While the gold shines in the +light there is a wise one keeping watch--His spite will circumvent +you all!" He hides himself among the tumbled rocks near the cave-mouth +from the brightening light of dawn. + +Mime enters guiding Siegfried. "This is the spot, go no further!" +Siegfried seats himself under a great tree; they have been travelling +through the woods all night. "This is the place where I am to learn +fear?" he inquires light-heartedly. The excursion, as far as he +knows, has for its single object to teach him that art. He is not +of a suspicious turn and does not ask what interest in his education +has Mime, in whose affection he instinctively does not believe. +"Now, Mime," he instructs the dwarf, "you are after this to avoid +me. If I do not learn here what I should learn, I shall fare further +alone, I shall finally be rid of you!" "Believe me, dear boy," +says the dwarf, "if you do not learn fear to-day and here, with +difficulty shall you learn it elsewhere and at another time!" He +directs the youth's eye to the black mouth of the dragon-hole and +describes with griesly detail the monster inhabiting it. Siegfried +listens unimpressed. Hearing, in answer to his inquiry, that the +monster has a heart and that it is in the usual place: "I will +drive Nothung into the overweening brute's heart!" he determines +lightly. He is sceptical with regard to the lesson in fear which +he has been promised. "Just wait!" Mime warns him. "What I said +was empty sound in your ears. You must hear and see the creature +himself.... Remain where you are. When the sun climbs high, watch +for the dragon. He will come out of his cave and pass along this +way to go and drink at the spring." "Mime," says Siegfried, with +a laugh for his foolish big-boy joke, "if you are to be at the +spring I will not hinder the dragon from going there. I will not +drive Nothung into his spleen until he has drunk you up. Wherefore, +take my advice: do not lie down to rest at the water's edge, but +take yourself off as far as ever you can, and never come back!" Mime +is too near, as he thinks, the hour of triumph, to take offence. +May he not be permitted, after the fight, to refresh the victor +with a drink? He will be near. Let Siegfried call him if he needs +advice,... or if he finds the sensation of fear delectable! + +When Siegfried has freed himself of Mime, whose company seems to +become more and more unendurable as he is nearer parting from him +for ever, he stretches out again under the great tree, folding his +arms beneath his head. "That that fellow is not my father," he +muses, "how glad am I of that! The fresh woodland only begins to +please me, the glad daylight to smile to me, now that the offensive +wretch is out of my sight!" He drives away the thought of him and +lets sweeter reflections gradually absorb him. The leaves rustle +and waver; delicate shafts of sunshine drop through them and play +over the forest floor. The exquisiteness of the hour, by its natural +power over the mood, turns the lonely boy's thoughts toward the only +human beings life has so far given him to love,--and in images so +vague and distant! "How did my father look?" he wonders dreamily, +and answers himself: "Like me, of course!" After a longer spell +of gazing up among the trees, while the soft influences of the +fragrant woodland world and lovely summer day still further overmaster +him: "But--how did my mother look?... That I cannot in the least +picture! Like the doe's, I am sure, shone her limpid lustrous +eyes--only, more beautiful by far!" The thought of her death fills +him with boundless sadness, but not sharp or bitter,--dreamy and +sweet from its tenderness. "When she had born me, wherefore did +she die? Do human mothers always die of their sons? How sad were +that! Oh, might I, son, behold my mother!... My mother--a woman +of humankind!" The motif of mother-love is but a slight, beautiful +variation from the motif of love in nature accompanying Siegfried's +reference to the deer paired in the woods, that strain like the +heaving of a great heart oppressed by its burden of love. The thought +of his never-known mother draws forth sighs from Siegfried's lips. +A long time he lies silent. The Freia-motif, the motif of beauty, +clambers upward like a dewy branch of wild clematis. All is still +around, but the little wind-stirred leaves, which weave and weave +as if a delicate green gold-shot fabric of sound. Against this airy +tapestry suddenly stands forth like a vivid pattern the warbling +of a bird. Over and over, with pretty variations, the bird gives +its note. It catches Siegfried's attention; he listens. "You sweet +little bird," he at last addresses the singer up among the branches, +"I never heard you before. Is your home here in the forest?..." The +thought occurs to him, so natural to the simple: "Could I but understand +the sweet babbling, certainly it would tell me something--perhaps +about the dear mother!" He remembers hearing from Mime that one +might come to understand the language of the birds. Attractive +possibility! Pricked by his desire at once to bring it about, he +springs up, cuts one of the reeds growing around the pool where +Fafner goes to drink, and fashions it into a pipe. He tries upon +it to imitate the bird-note. "If I can sing his language," is his +reasoning, "I shall understand, no doubt, what he sings!" After +repeated attempts, charmingly comical, and much vain mending of +the reed with the edge of Nothung, he grows impatient, is ashamed +of his unsuccess before the "roguish listener." He tosses away the +silly reed and takes his silver horn. "A merry wild-wood note, +such as I can play, you shall hear! I have sounded it as a call to +draw to me some dear companion. So far, nothing better has come +than a wolf or a bear. Let us see, now, what it attracts this time, +whether a dear comrade will come to the call?" He places the horn +to his lips and sounds the cheery _Lock-weise_ (lure-call) over +and over, with long sustained notes between the calls, during which +he looks up at the bird, to see how he likes it. As a variation +he plays the motifs which describe himself, the large heroic +Siegfried-motif, and then the gay, rash, lesser Nothung-Siegfried +motif. He has returned to the Lock-weise, and is repeating it with +obstinate persistence, a-mind not to stop until the companion his +lonesomeness yearns for shall have answered him when a bellowing +sound behind him makes him face about. We had been warned already +by the _Wurm_-motif, heard before in Nibelheim, when Alberich by +the power of the Tarnhelm turned himself into a dragon. Siegfried +at sight of Fafner, whom the loud Lock-weise has drawn from his +slumbers and his cave, laughs aloud: "My tune has charmed forth +something truly lovely! A tidy comrade you would make for me!" +"What is that?" roars Fafner, fixing the glare of his eyes upon +the shapely form of Siegfried, insignificant in size, as he counts +it. "Haha!" cries Siegfried, enchanted to hear from an animal talk +which he can understand. "If you are an animal that can speak, +you very likely can teach me something. Here is one who does not +know fear; can he learn it from you?" "Is this insolence?" asks +the amazed brute. "Call it insolence or what you please, but I +shall fall upon you bodily, unless you teach me fear." Fafner laughs +grimly, as if he licked his chops: "I wanted drink, I now find +meat as well!" He shows the red interior of his vast jaws fringed +with teeth. There is a brief further exchange of threats and jeers, +then Fafner bellows: "Pruh! Come on, swaggering child!" Siegfried +shouts: "Look out, bellower, the swaggerer comes!" and, Nothung in +hand, leaps to the assault. Vainly Fafner spouts flame to blind +and terrify him. The fight ends as it must. The dragon falls beneath +the Wotan-sword, wielded by the hero without fear. + +With his failing breath, in a tone strangely void of resentment, +the dragon questions his slip of an adversary, so unexpectedly +victorious: "Who are you, intrepid boy, that have pierced my heart? +Who incited the child to the murderous deed? Your brain never conceived +that which you have done...." A motif we have come to know well +punctuates the dying speech of this still another victim of the +curse on the Ring. "I do not know much, as yet," Siegfried replies; +"I do not know even who I am. But it was yourself roused my temper +to fight with you." The last of the giants, his hollow voice growing +fainter, tells the "clear-eyed boy," the "rosy hero," who it is he +has slain, and warns him of the treachery surrounding the owner +of the Hort. "Tell me further from whom I am descended," speaks +Siegfried; "wise, of a truth, do you appear, wild one, in dying. +Guess it from my name. Siegfried I am called!" But the Worm sighing, +"Siegfried!..." gives up the breath. + +After a moment's contemplation of the mountainous dead, Siegfried +resolutely drags from his breast the sword which he had driven +in up to the hilt. A drop of the dragon's blood spurts against +his hand. With the exclamation: "The blood burns like fire!" he +lifts his finger to his mouth. At once his attention is arrested +by the voices of the birds. With increasing interest he harkens: +It seems to him almost as if the birds were speaking to him; a +distinct impression he receives of words. "Is it the effect of +tasting the blood?" he wonders. "That curious little bird there, +hark, what is he saying to me?" From the tree-top come clear words +on a bird's warble: "Hei, to Siegfried belongs now the Nibelung's +treasure! Oh, might he find the Hort in the cave! If he should +win the Tarnhelm it would serve him for delightful adventures; +but if he should find the Ring it would make him sovereign of the +world!" Siegfried has listened with bated breath. "Thanks, dear +little bird, for your advice. Gladly will I do as you bid!" He +enters the cave. As he disappears, Mime crawls near to convince +himself ocularly of Fafner's death. At the same moment, Alberich +slips from his hiding-place and throws himself across Mime's path, +to bar his way to the treasure. A bitter quarrel at once springs +up between the brothers; Alberich claims the treasure because it +is rightly his, Mime because he reared the youth who has recovered +it from the dragon. Mime, whom Alberich's violence cows still as +in the old days, offers to share, if he may have the Tarnhelm--a +sly proposition,--he will renounce the Ring; but this Alberich +hears with furious scorn, and the wrangle is at its height when +Siegfried reappears at the cave's mouth. In his hands are Tarnhelm +and Ring. Returning into sight after the angry cat-fight between +the ill-conditioned pair, he appears more than ever large, serene, +fair, noble. Mime and Alberich betake themselves quickly back to +their lurking-places. Siegfried stands considering his odd-looking +acquisitions: "Of what use you may be to me I know not; but I took +you from the heaped gold of the treasure because a good adviser +bade me. As ornaments you shall serve, bearing witness to this +day; these baubles shall remind me that in combat I slew Fafner, +but failed still to learn fear!" He places the ring on his finger +and the Tarnhelm at his belt. In the silence that falls, he listens +again for the voice of the bird. It suddenly drops from the tree-top: +"Hei! Siegfried possesses the Tarnhelm and Ring! Oh, let him not +trust Mime the false! If Siegfried should listen closely to the +wretch's hypocritical words, he would penetrate the true meaning of +Mime's heart; such is the virtue of the taste of dragon's blood!" +No sooner has Siegfried heard, than he sees Mime approaching. He +waits for him, leaning on his sword, quietly watchful. The little +man contorts body and face into postures and expressions as humbly +flattering and cajoling as he can; at every few steps he scrapes +and curtseys. "Welcome, Siegfried! Tell me, you soul of courage, +have you learned fear?" "Not yet have I found the teacher!" "But +the Serpent-Worm which you slew, a fearsome fellow, was he not?" +"Grim and malignant though he were, his death verily grieves me, +since miscreants of deeper dye still live at large. The one who bade +me murder him, I hate more than the dragon!" Mime to all appearance +takes these words as if they carried no offence. What he thinks +he is saying in reply we know not; but this is what, spoken in a +voice of tenderest affection, Siegfried hears: "Gently now! Not +much longer shall you see me. I shall soon close your eyes for their +eternal sleep. That which I needed you for you have accomplished; +all I wish, now, is to wrest from you the treasure. I believe I shall +effect this with small trouble. You know you are not difficult to +befool!" "So you are meditating harm to me?" Siegfried asks quietly. +Mime starts in amazement. "Did I say anything of the sort?" + +Then again, in accents sickly-sweet, with the writhings and grimaces +of an excessive affection: "Siegfried, listen, my son! You and the +like of you I have always hated from my very heart. Out of love +I did not rear you, burdensome nuisance. The trouble I took was +for the sake of the treasure in Fafner's keeping. If you do not +give it to me willingly, Siegfried, my son, it must be plain even +to yourself, you will have to leave me your life!" This formal and +direct declaration of hate, proving the justice of his instinctive +dislike all along of Mime, calls forth from Siegfried's relief +even in this moment the exclamation: "That you hate me, I gladly +hear!" Mime, while giving himself visibly all the pains in the +world to disguise from Siegfried his intentions, to each of the +youth's questions answers, in the supposition that he is telling +his lies, the exact truth. Thus Siegfried learns that the drink +Mime has prepared for his refreshment will plunge him into deep +sleep, upon which, for greater security in his enjoyment of the +treasure, Mime will with Nothung cut off his head. The little monster +chuckles genially while making these revelations. As Mime reaches +him the treacherous drink, Siegfried, moved by an impulse of +overpowering disgust, with a sudden swift blow of Nothung strikes +him down. Alberich's laugh of glee and derision rings out from +his hiding-place. + +After gazing for a moment at the body of the repulsive little +traitor,--with the after-thought, it is possible, that the flat of +Nothung would have been sufficient for anything so small, though +so venomous,--he gives it the obsequies which seem to him the most +fitting. He throws him in the cave, that he may lie on the heaped +gold and have the coveted treasure at last for his own. He drags +Fafner to the cave's mouth, that his bulk may block it. "Lie there, +you too, dark dragon! Guard at once the shining treasure and the +treasure-loving enemy; thus have you both found rest!" + +The sun is high; heated with his exertions, Siegfried returns to +his mossy couch under the trees, and is presently again looking +overhead for the friendly bird. "Once more, dear little bird, after +such a troublesome interruption, I should be glad to listen to your +singing. I can see you swinging happily on the bough; brothers +and sisters flutter around you, blithe and sweet, twittering the +while...." A vague sadness touches his mood, and this pensive moment +goes far toward gaining back to him the sympathy which his overgreat +sturdiness in dealing death had perhaps forfeited. He is now a poor +lonesome beautiful boy, completely sweet-blooded and brave--the +hunter that has never robbed the mother of her young--whose heart +full of instinctive affection has never had an object on which +it could spend itself. "But I," he says envyingly to the bird, +"I am so alone! I have neither brother nor sister! My mother +vanished,--my father fell,--their son never saw them...." In this +humour he lets a shade of regret transpire for the necessity to +kill Mime. "My only companion was a loathly dwarf; goodness never +knit the bond of affection between us; artful toils the cunning foe +spread for me. I was at last even forced to slay him!" He stares +sorrowfully at the sky through the trees. "Friendly bird, I ask +you now: will you assist my quest for a good comrade? Will you +guide me to the right one? I have called so often and never found +one; you, my trusty one, will surely hit it better! So apt has +been the counsel given by you already! Now sing! I am listening +for your song!" Readily the bright voice from above answers in +a joyous warble: "Hei! Siegfried has slain the wicked dwarf! I +have in mind for him now the most glorious mate! On a high rock +she sleeps, a wall of flame surrounds her abode. If he should push +through the fire, if he should waken the bride, then were Bruennhilde +his own!" With an instantaneousness touchingly significant of his +hard heart-hunger, an attack of impassioned sighing seizes the +young Siegfried. "Oh, lovely song! Oh, sweetest breath! How its +message glows within my breast, burning me! How it sets my enkindled +heart to throbbing! What is it rushing so wildly through my heart +and senses?... It drives me, exulting, out of the woods to the +mountain-rock. Speak to me again, charming singer: shall I break +through the fiery wall? Can I waken the bride?" "Never," replies the +bird, "shall the bride be won, Bruennhilde wakened, by a faint-heart! +Only by one who knows no fear!" Siegfried shouts with delight: "The +stupid boy who knows no fear--little bird, why, that am I! This +very day I gave myself fruitless pains to learn it from Fafner. I +now burn with the desire to learn it from Bruennhilde! How shall I +find the way to her rock?" The bird forsakes the treetop, flutters +over the youth's head and flies further. Siegfried interprets this +as an invitation. "Thus is the way shown me. Wherever you fly, I +follow your flight!" We see him going hither and thither in his +attempt to follow the erratic flight of a bird. His guide after +a moment bends in a definite direction and Siegfried disappears +after him among the trees. + +III + +A wild region at the foot of a rocky mountain, the mountain at the +summit of which Bruennhilde sleeps. In night and storm Wotan the +Wanderer comes to seek Erda, the Wise Woman, the Wala. He conjures +her up from the depths of the earth into his presence. We see her +appear, as before, rising in the gloom of a rocky hollow up to +half her height. + +In all his wandering over the earth, in search of wisdom and counsel, +none has Wotan found so wise as she. The question he proposes is: +How may a rolling wheel be arrested in its course? + +Erda is not willingly waked out of her sleep, nor is it her wont to +communicate directly with the upper world. In her slow and solemn +sleep-weighted tones, she tells him that the Norns spin into their +coil the visions of her illuminated sleep. Why does he not consult +them? Or why, she asks, when that counsel is rejected, why does +he not, still mote aptly, consult Bruennhilde, wise child of Wotan +and Erda? + +In his reply, Wotan briefly sums Bruennhilde's offence: She defied the +Storm-compeller, where he was practising the utmost self-compulsion; +what the Leader of Battle yearned to do, but refrained from, his +own antagonist,--all too confident, the insolent maid dared to +bring about for herself. + +At the indication of Bruennhilde's fate, indignation possesses the +Wala. In view of such high-handed injustice, she wishes and struggles +to return back into the earth and be merged with her wisdom in +sleep. But Wotan will not release her until she has satisfied him +"You, all-knowing one, once drove the thorn of care into Wotan's +daring heart; with the dread of an adverse ignominious ending you +filled him by your foreknowledge, so that his courage was in bondage +to fear. If you are the wisest woman in the world, tell me now: +how shall the god overcome that care?" But the injured mother is +not to be conciliated. "You are not," she startlingly announces, +"what you call yourself!"--Not a god, Wotan?--"What are you come, +wild and turbulent spirit, to disturb the Wala's sleep? Restless +one, release me! Loose the spell!" "You are not" he retorts, "what +you suppose yourself!"--Not the wisest of women! In that she has +not divined what he has really come to impart, rather than seriously +to ask counsel. For his true errand is to show her the fruits of +time in himself, the mood of patience and reconciliation he has +reached, nay, of hope for a future in which he is to have no part, +that Bruennhilde's mother may sleep the more quietly, and, untroubled, +watch the end overtake him through her dream. "Do you know what it +is Wotan wills? I speak it in your ear, unforeseeing one, that +with easy heart you may return to your eternal sleep. The thought +of the end of the gods no longer grieves me, since it is my desire +and my will! The thing which I once, in pain and conflict, torn by +despair, resolved, I now joyfully and freely carry out: in raging +disgust I once devoted the world to the ill-will of the Nibelung; +to the joyous Waelsung I now appoint my inheritance. He whom I have +chosen, but who has never known me, an intrepid boy, unaided by +counsel of mine, has conquered the Nibelung's Ring. Void of envy, +happy and loving, Alberich's curse falls away crippled when it would +light on the noble one, for fear is unknown to him. She whom you +bore to me, Bruennhilde, shall be tenderly waked by the hero; awake, +your wise child shall perform a world-delivering deed! Wherefore, +sleep! Close your eye: dreaming watch my passing! Whatever works be +theirs, to that Eternally Young One, the god in gladness yields his +place. Down, then, Erda! Ancient Fear! Original Care! To your eternal +sleep! Down! Down!..." Erda sinks into the earth, the glimmering +light fades from the cave. + +A bird-note is heard, light and sharp, approaching. A bird flutters +into sight and Siegfried, following it, appears upon the scene. The +bird, as if at the recognition of danger,--the ravens of Wotan are +hovering near--in all haste flies quite away. Siegfried resolves to +go on alone. He is stopped by the Wanderer's voice: "Whither, boy, +does your way lead you?" Here is some one, thinks Siegfried, who may +show him the way. "I seek a rock," he replies; "it is surrounded +by fire; there sleeps a woman whom I wish to wake." "Who bade you +seek the rock? Who taught you to wish for the woman?" "A little +woodland bird told me about it in his singing; he gave me good +tidings." "A little bird gossips of many things, but no one can +understand him. How did you derive the meaning of his song?" "That +was the effect of the blood of a wild dragon,..." and so forth. +Wotan continues to ply the youth with questions, just as a kind +old grandfather of humankind might lead on a child to talk, for +the simple sake of hearing what he will say, for delight in his +ingenuousness. The utmost tenderness for this joyous Walsung speaks +in the tones of the greybeard. The final object of his questioning +is to lead the youth to some acknowledgment of himself as a factor +in his fortunes. Without discarding his incognito, he longs to +hear on the grandson's lips some name which stands for himself, +some reference to him. So, from the question, "Who prompted you to +attack the strong Worm?" he passes to the question: "Who shaped the +sword, so sharp and hard, that the strongest enemy should succumb +to its stroke?" and when Siegfried replies that he did this himself, +insists further: "But who shaped the strong pieces, out of which +you forged the sword?" The answer to this is, "Waelse!" It can be +nothing else. Siegfried, however, replies: "What do I know? All +I know is that the pieces could be of no use to me until I forged +the sword over again for myself." Wotan breaks out laughing: "I +agree with you!" Siegfried suspecting that he has been quizzed, +loses his patience, becomes curt and rough. "What are you laughing +at me? Old questioner, you had better stop. Do not keep me chattering +here! If you can direct me on my way, speak. If you cannot, hold +your mouth!" Deplorable are the manners learned in Mime's cave. +"Patience, you boy!" Wanderer mildly checks him; "if I seem old +to you, you should offer me reverence!" "That," jeers Siegfried, +"is a fine idea! All my life long an old man has stood in my way. +I have no more than swept him away. If you continue to stand there +stiffly opposing me, beware, I tell you, lest you fare like Mime!" +As, with this threat, he takes a stride nearer to the stranger, he +is struck by his appearance. "What makes you look like that?" he +asks, like a child; "what a great hat you have! Why does it hang +down so over your face?... One of your eyes, beneath the brim, is +missing.... It was put out, I am sure, by some one whose passage +you were stubbornly opposing. Now, take yourself off, or you might +easily lose the other!" The indulgent grandsire is still not stirred +from his patience, though this must strike a little painfully on +his heart. "I see, my son, that, unencumbered by any knowledge, +you are quick at disposing of obstacles. With the eye which is +missing from my other socket, you yourself are looking at the single +eye which I have left for sight." At this riddle, the brilliant +Walsung eyes merely flash mirth, while Siegfried laughs at the +obscure saying. Not a moment does he waste in reflection upon it, +but, with growing impatience to resume his quest, orders Wanderer +to guide him or be thrust out of his road. "If you knew me, bold +stripling," the suffering god speaks, still gently, "you would spare +me this affront. Close to my heart as you are, your threatening +strikes me painfully. Though I have ever loved your luminous race, +my anger has before this brought terror upon them. You, toward +whom I feel such kindness,--you, all-too-bright!--do not to-day +move me to anger.... It might destroy both you and me!" All that +is plain to Siegfried, mad to be off in search of his sleeper, +is that this prattling old personage neither tells him his way +nor will consent to move out of it. As he once more rudely bids +him clear the path to the sleeping woman, Wotan's anger breaks +forth: "You shall not," he exclaims, "go the way the bird pointed!" +"Hoho! You forbidder!..." cries Siegfried, amazed, "who are you, +trying to prevent me?" "Fear the Guardian of the Rock! My power +it is which holds the maid under the spell of sleep. He who awakes +her, he who wins her, makes me powerless for ever!" + +Wotan, it would seem, is challenging the boy. His anger, justified +though it would be by the stalwart cub's behaviour, is half affected. +He had declared not far from this very spot, some eighteen years +earlier, that no one who feared his spear should ever cross the +barrier of fire. The hour is at hand when the spear must offer +itself to be braved by this incarnate courage bent upon that same +adventure,--when Wotan must take the chances of discovering that +this boy is freer than he--the god. He had declared himself but a +moment ago, in his communication with Erda, willing to yield his +supremacy to the Eternally Young One. Actually to do it must be a +little bitter, after enduring that Young One's cavalier treatment. +Perhaps--the text admits of the interpretation,--Wotan is sincerely +angry; at Siegfried's impertinence he has changed his mind in respect +to yielding his throne to him, and with a real intention of driving +him back from the rock describes the terrors of the mountain: "A +sea of fire surges around the woman; hot flames lick the rock; +the conflagration rages against him who would push through to the +bride. Look up toward the heights! Do you see not the light?... +It is waxing in brightness.... Scorching clouds, wavering flames, +roaring and crackling, stream down toward us. A sea of light shines +about your head, Soon the fire will catch and devour you.... Then, +back! mad child!" "Back yourself, you braggart!" cries Siegfried, +nothing deterred; "up there where the flames flicker, I must hasten +to Bruennhilde!" He is about to push past, when Wotan holds his +spear across the path: "If the fire does not frighten you, my spear +shall stop your way. My hand still holds the staff of sovereignty. +The sword which you swing was once shattered against this shaft, +again let it snap on the eternal spear!" Instead of appalling him, +the majestic threat creates in Siegfried eagerness and glee: "My +father's enemy! Do I find you here? Excellently this happens for +my revenge! Swing your spear! With my sword I will split it to +pieces!" And he immediately does as he has said. Nothing, it seems, +not the spear of the law, can stand against the sword of perfect +courage. A clap of thunder accompanies the sundering of the spear. +The broken pieces roll at the Wanderer's feet. He picks them quietly +up. With godlike calm, the hour having struck, he accepts inevitable +fate. The motif of downfall points this beginning of the end of the +gods. "Go your way! I cannot hold you!" He vanishes in darkness. + +"With broken weapon the coward has fled?" says Siegfried, looking +about for his father's enemy. The magic fire, as if to force the +intruder back, has been pouring further and further down the +mountain-side. But the one whom it should frighten rejoices, glories +in the glory of the flames, jubilates. "Ha! Delightful glow! Beaming +brightness! A radiant road lies open before me! Oh, to bathe in +the fire! In the fire to find the bride! Hoho! Hoho! Hahei! Hahei! +Merrily! Merrily! This time I shall lure a dear companion!" He sets +the silver horn to his lips and gaily blowing the Lock-weise starts +up the mountain and is lost among the swirling sanguine smoke-clouds. +The fire burns bright; the merry call is heard from time to time +from the unseen climber. The fire pales--the barrier has been past, +the region above is reached, the charmed sleeper's domain. When +the veiling smoke completely clears, we see the remembered scene +of the Valkyries' rock, and Bruennhilde lying under the spreading +pine, as Wotan left her. + +It is calm golden daylight. Over the brow of the mountain appears +Siegfried and stands still a moment, outlined against the cloudless +sky, wondering at the peace, the airiness, considering the "exquisite +solitude on the sunny height!" The sweet Fricka-motif speaks aloud +as it were the unconscious language of his blood, voices the vague +instinct toward nest-building which in the Spring lightly turns a +young man's fancy to thoughts of love. He has come in search of +a bride, upon the word of a little bird; but his ideas concerning +the promised "dear companion" are so few, and the novelty of all +he is seeing so takes up his mind, that when his eyes presently +fall upon the recumbent form his first thought is not that here +must be what he has come in search of. + +He approaches and marvels at the bright armour. He lifts off the +great shield, again like a child, to see what it covers. A man in +suit of mail! He can see the face in part only, but warms with +instantaneous pleasure in its comeliness. The helmet, he surmises, +must press uncomfortably on the beautiful head. Very gently he +takes it off. Long curling locks, loosed from confinement, gush +abundantly forth. Siegfried is startled by the sight. But the right +words, "How beautiful!" rise to his untaught lips. He remains sunk +in contemplation of the marvel; the tresses remind him of a thing +he has often watched: shimmering clouds bounding with their ripples +a clear expanse of sky. As if drawn by a magnet, he bends lower +over the quiet form and so feels the sleeper's breath. "The breast +heaves with the swelling breath, shall I break the cramping corslet?" +Cautiously he makes the attempt, but, finding his fingers unapt at +the task, solves his difficulty by aid of Nothung. With delicate +care he cuts through the iron and lightly removes the corslet. "This +is no man!" he cries, starting away in amazement. Such emotion seizes +him, with sensations of dizziness and faintness--such a pressure on +the heart, forcing from it burning sigh upon sigh, that, with a +sense of having no resource in himself, he casts about for help +in this all so unfamiliar exquisite distress: "Whom shall I call +on that he may save me? Mother! Mother! Remember me!" Swooning, he +sinks with his forehead against Bruennhilde's breast--to be roused +again by the goad of his desire to see the eyes of the sleeper +unclose. "That she should open her eyes?" He hesitates, in tender +trouble. "Would her glance not blind me? Have I the hardihood? +Could I endure the light?..." He feels the hand trembling with +which he is trying to quiet his agitated heart. "What ails me, +coward? Is this fear? Oh, mother! Mother! Your bold child! A woman +lies folded in slumber,... she has taught him to be afraid!... +How shall I bring this fear to an end? How shall I gain back my +courage? That I may myself awake from this dream I must waken the +maid!" But awe of the so august and quiet sleeper again restrains +him. He does not touch her, but lingeringly gazes at her "blossoming +mouth," bows till the warm fragrance of her breath sweeping his face +forces forth his impulsive cry: "Awake! Awake! Sacred woman!" He +waits with suspended breath. She has not heard. She does not stir. +An infinite weakness overtaking him, a mortal coming less, "I will +drink life," he sighs, "from sweetest lips, though I should swoon +to death in the act!" With closed eyes he bends over Bruennhilde's +lips. + +Twelve bars, the tempo of which is marked "_Sehr maessig,_" very +moderate, sing themselves delicately and gravely to an end. Bruennhilde +opens wide her eyes. Siegfried starts from her, not guiltily or +to move from his place, only to stand erect and, absorbed, watch +her movements. + +Slowly she rises to a sitting posture and with beatific looks takes +account of the glorious world to which she has reawakened. Solemnly +she stretches her arms toward the sky: "Hail to thee, sun!" A great +pause, of drinking in further the loveliness of the scene and the +joy of life returned to, then: "Hail to thee, light!" And after +another great pause of wondering ecstasy: "Hail to thee, radiant +day!... Long was my sleep.... I am awake.... Who is the hero that +has awakened me?" Siegfried stands spell-bound, in solemn awe at +the sound of her voice and the superhuman splendour of her beauty. +He answers, in the only way he knows, childlike, direct: "I pressed +through the fire which surrounded the rock; I released you from +the close helmet; Siegfried I am called who have awakened you!" +At the sound of the name, the altogether right one, Bruennhilde +takes up again her song of praise: "Hail to you, gods! Hail to +thee, world! Hail, sumptuously blooming earth!" And Siegfried breaks +forth, in an exalted rapture which inspires his ignorance with +expression befitting the hour: "Oh, hail to the mother who bore +me, hail to the earth which nourished me, that I might behold the +eyes which now shine upon me, blessed!" Bruennhilde, joining in +his hymn of gratitude, blesses, too, the mother who bore him, and +the earth which nourished him, whose eyes alone should behold her, +for whom alone she was destined to awake. The love-scene following +leaves a singular impression of greatness. The wise daughter of +the Wala and the "most splendid hero of the world" are simple as +children, sincere as animals or angels, ardent with honest natural +fire, like stars. When their love finally reaches a perfect +understanding their song is a succession of magnificent shouts, +primitive as they are thrilling. + +"Oh, if you knew, joy of the world," Bruennhilde exposes her artless +heart to the hero, "how I have loved you from all time! You were +my care, the object of my solicitude! Before you were shaped, I +nurtured you, before you were born, my shield concealed you,--so +long have I loved you, Siegfried!" He believes for a moment that +his mother has not died but has been sleeping and now speaks to +him. In correcting him, Bruennhilde shows herself tenderly feminine. +No sooner has she spoken the words which must fall with inevitable +dreariness on his ear, "Your mother will not come back to you!" +than she hastens to heal his hurt with the sweetest thing her love +has to say: "Yourself am I, if you love me, fortunate...." She +explains the meaning of her earlier words: "I have loved you from +all time, for to me alone Wotan's thought was known. That thought +which I must never speak, which I did not think, but only felt; +for which I strove, struggled, and fought; for which I braved the +one who had framed it; for which I was made to suffer and bound +in punishment; that thought--might you but grasp it!--was naught +but love for you!" + +It could hardly be hoped that the young forester should at this +moment be able to grasp anything so subtle, as he helplessly confesses: +"Wonderful sounds what you winningly sing; but the sense of it is +dark to me. I see your eye beam bright; I feel your warm breath; +I hear the sweet singing of your voice; but that which in your +singing you would impart, stupefied, I understand it not! I cannot +grasp the sense of distant things, when all my senses are absorbed +in seeing and feeling only you. With anxious fear you bind me: +you alone have taught me to fear. Whom you have bound in mighty +bonds, no longer withhold from me my courage!" Bruennhilde at this, +with the touch of nature which makes the Valkyrie kin to the young +lady of drawing-rooms, turns her head away and talks of something +else. She talks of Grane, whom she sees grazing a little way off. +As her eyes fall upon the corslet, cut from her body with a sword, +the sight smites upon her saddeningly, as a symbol. A consciousness +of danger and defencelessness oppresses her, and when Siegfried, +made bold in his fear of her by the very need he feels of overcoming +that fear, impetuously seizes her in his arms, in terror she starts +away from him and wrings her hands with a woful sense of not being +any more that Bruennhilde "whom no god had ever approached, before +whom reverently the heroes had bowed, who holy had departed from +Walhalla." She feels her wisdom forsaking her, her light failing, +night and terror closing down upon her. She appeals to him at last +against himself: "Oh, Siegfried, see my distress!" + +He stands so still for a time, silent, puzzled by her, unwilling +certainly to frighten her further, that her immediate fear subsides; +her countenance betrays, the stage-directions read, that "a winning +picture rises before her soul." The character of this may be divined +from the melody rippling softly forth, the motif of peaceful love. +A fresh green branch, it makes one think of, with a nest upon it, +swinging in a summer wind. More gently she addresses him, pleading +rather than repelling, winning him to give up his way for hers. +"Eternal am I,... but eternal for your weal! Oh, Siegfried, joyous +hero! Renounce me.... Approach me not with ardent approach.... +Constrain me not with shattering constraint.... Have you not seen +your own image in the clear stream? Has it not gladdened you, glad +one? If you stir the water into turmoil, the smooth surface is lost, +you cannot see your own reflection any longer. Wherefore, touch me +not, trouble me not; eternally bright then shall you shine back at +yourself from me. Oh, Siegfried, luminous youth! love--yourself, and +withhold from me. Destroy not what is your own!" His robust young +love to this replies--after the simple outburst: "You I love, oh, +might you love me! No longer have I myself, oh, had I you!"--that +it matters little his image should be broken in the glorious river +before him, for, burning and thirsting, he would plunge into it +himself, that its waves might blissfully engulf him and his longing +be quenched in the flood. It is he who appeals now, with ancient +arguments, simple and telling as his blows at the dragon. When +at the end of them he clasps Bruennhilde again, she does not as +before wrest herself free, but laughs in joy as she feels her love +surging, till it, as it seems to her, more than matches his own, +and he is the one, she judges, who should feel afraid. She, indeed, +asks him, does he not fear?... But the opposite takes place. With +her love, ardent as his own, frankly given him, all his courage +comes back, "And fear, alas!" he observes, a little disconcerted +at the queerness of this new experience, "fear, which I never +learned,--fear, which you had hardly taught me,--fear, I believe, +I, dullard, have already forgotten it!" Bruennhilde laughs in +delight--all of joy and laughter is their love after this up on +the sunny height--and declares to the "mad-cap treasury of glorious +deeds" that laughing she will love him, laughing lose the light of +her eyes, laughing they will accept destruction, laughing accept +death! Let the proud world of Walhalla crumble to dust, the eternal +tribe of the gods cease in glory, the Norns rend the coil of fate, +the dusk of the gods close down,--Siegfried's star has risen, and he +shall be, to Bruennhilde, for ever, everything! In equally fine and +joyous ravings Siegfried's voice has been pouring forth alongside +of hers; reaching at last an identical sentiment and the same note, +the two rush together like flashing mountain torrents, and are +lost to us behind the descending curtain. + + + + +THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS + + +THE TWILIGHT OF THE GODS + +(DIE GOETTERDAEMMERUNG) + +I + +In the Prologue of "The Twilight of the Gods" we learn from report +the portion of Wotan's history which belongs between the breaking +of his spear and the final events which bring about the gods' end. + +At the rising of the curtain the three Norns are dimly discerned +upon the well-known scene of Bruennhilde's sleep, before the entrance +to the rocky hall where Siegfried and she have their dwelling. The +fiery palisade around their fastness casts a faint glow upon the +night. The Norns, as it were to while away the heavy hour before +dawn, spin and sing. Their "spinning" consists in casting a golden +coil from one to the other, after some peculiar ritual, involving +fastening it to this pine-tree, winding it about that point of +rock, casting it over the shoulder, northward. Their song is of no +frivolous matter, but as if we should entertain ourselves recounting +the Creation, the Fall of Man, the Deluge. Of the World-Ash they +tell, in whose shade a well flowed, murmuring runes of wisdom; of +a daring god who came to drink at the well, paying in toll one +of his eyes. From the World-Ash, he, Wotan, broke a branch and +fashioned it into the shaft of a spear. This he carved with runes +of truth to compacts, and held it as the "haft of the world." An +intrepid hero clove it asunder. Wotan thereupon commanded the heroes +of Walhalla to hew down the World-Ash and cut it to pieces. "High +looms the castle built by giants," sings the youngest of the Norns; +"there in the hall sits Wotan amid the holy clan of the gods and +heroes. Wooden billets heaped to a lofty pile surround the room. +That was once the World-Ash! When the wood shall burn hot and clear, +when the flame shall devour the shining hall, the day of the end +of the gods shall have dawned!" Wotan himself, when the danger +is no longer to be averted of a dishonoured end,--if Alberich, +that is, shall regain possession of the Ring,--will plunge the +splinters of his defeated spear deep into Loge's breast and himself +set the World-Ash ablaze. + +As night begins to yield to dawn, confusion falls on the minds of +the Norns; their visions, they complain, are dim. The strands of +the coil become tangled between their fingers. One of them descries +an angry face--Alberich's--floating before her; another becomes +aware of an avenging curse gnawing at the threads of the coil. +This suddenly snaps--terrific omen! Appalled, with the cry that +"eternal wisdom is at an end," they vanish in search of their mother, +Erda, in the earth's depths. + +Day breaks. The reflection of Loge's defence pales. There greets +our ear suddenly a sturdy strain, resembling something we have heard +before. By analysis, we discover in it one of the Siegfried-motifs, +the horn-call, but grown so robust and weighty, so firm, strong, +commanding, that it hardly more than reminds us of the youthful +Lock-weise, fluttering forth hopefully to find a "dear companion." +The dear companion has long been found. Hard upon this motif of the +grown-up Siegfried comes a wholly new motif, the motif of Bruennhilde +Wedded, wonderful for its entwining tenderness, yet the elevation +it combines with its immensely feminine quality. It is given over +and over; the instruments pass it from one to the other, like a +watchword. + +The two thus announced come forth into the sunrise from their chamber +in the rock, Siegfried full-armed, Bruennhilde leading Grane. They +are glorious in this scene of parting. A nobler passion we do not +remember hearing expressed than animates them and the music which +interprets their being. It is all a little more than life-size. + +"To new exploits, beloved hero, how poor were my love, did I not +let you go! One single care restrains me, fear of the insufficiency +of all I could bestow. What I learned from the gods I have given +you, a rich treasury of holy runes, but the maidenly staff of my +strength the hero took from me, before whom I now bow. Despoiled +of wisdom, though filled with desire to serve; rich in love, but +devoid of power, oh, despise not the poor lover who can only wish +you, not give you, more!" + +But not all the wisdom of the Wala's daughter, not the rich treasury +of runes, have availed to change Siegfried from his big incurable +simplicity,--as his answer in effect declares: "More did you give +me, wonder-woman, than I have capacity to retain! Be not angry that +your teaching should have left me still untaught. One knowledge +there is which I, none the less, hold fast: that Bruennhilde lives +and is mine; one lesson I learned with ease: to think ever of +Bruennhilde!" + +The gift she asks of his love is that he shall think of himself, +think of his great deeds, increase his glory. He bestows on her +in leaving the Ring, in which the virtue is condensed of all great +deeds he ever did. In exchange she gives him Grane. After offering +each other, in their great mood, the consolation that to part is +for them not to be parted, for where he goes there in very truth +goes she, and where she remains there does he too abide, they call +upon the gods to feed their eyes upon the dedicated pair they are, +and with jubilant appellations for each other--Victorious light! +Effulgent star! Radiant love! Radiant life!--the last good words +ever exchanged between them!--they tear apart, without sorrow or +foreboding. She watches him out of sight. The stage-directions +say: "From her happy smile may be divined the appearance of the +cheerfully departing hero." The emphatic phrase is heard, as he +descends into the valley, in which at their first meeting (in the +opera "Siegfried") they vowed that each was to the other "eternally +and for ever, his inheritance and his possession, his only and +his all!" The curtain closes on the Prologue. + +By the music we can follow Siegfried on his journey. We know when +he comes to the fire, when he comes to the Rhine. There floats +to us, with the effect of a folk-song, a legend, the lament of +the Rhine-nymphs for their lost gold. Sounds of warning are in +the air as Siegfried approaches the Hall of the Gibichungen, but +to such the hardy hero, no need to say, is fast sealed. + +The curtain unclosing shows the interior of the Hall of the Gibichungen, +open at the further end on the Rhine. Gunther, his sister Gutrune, +and their half-brother Hagen, sit at a table set with drinking-horns +and flagons. + +This Hagen is the Nibelung's son of Erda's prophecy: "When the +dark enemy of Love shall in wrath beget a son, the end of the gods +shall not be long delayed." An allusion of Hagen's there is to +his mother, as having succumbed to the craft of Alberich. On the +other hand, a reference of Gunther's to Frau Grimhild, his mother +and Hagen's, would seem to show that her history, whatever it may +have been, bore no outward blot. + +He is early old, this "child of hate," as Wotan long ago called +him, sere and pallid, totally unglad and hating the glad. He is the +tool created by Alberich--even as Siegmund was Wotan's tool,--to win +back for him the Ring. From his Nibelung father he has more than human +powers and knowledge. In the conversation which we overhear between +the brethren, we witness Hagen laying lines for the recapture of the +Ring and Siegfried's destruction, for he, like Mime, understands +that there can be no safety for him who shall unrightfully get from +Siegfried the Ring, while the strong-handed fellow lives. + +Gunther--whose motif betrays him, with its little effect of shallow +self-satisfaction, like a jaunty toss of the head,--Gunther asks +Hagen, is he not magnificent, sitting beside the Rhine; to the +glory of Gibich? "It is my habit," remarks Hagen evasively, "to +envy you." "Nay, for me it is to envy you, and not you me," Gunther +in his pleasant humour rejoins; "true, I inherited the right of +the first-born, but wisdom is yours alone, and I am, in fact, but +lauding your good counsel when I inquire of my fame!" "I blame +the counsel then," speaks Hagen, "for indifferent is as yet the +fame. I know of high advantages which the Gibichung has not yet +won...." Gunther's inquiry he satisfies: "In summer ripeness and +vigour I behold the stem of Gibich: you, Gunther, without wife,--you, +Gutrune, still unwed." Gunther and Gutrune, struck, are silent a +moment. Then Gunther inquires whom should he wed that lustre might +be added to the glory of the House? "I know a woman," Hagen replies, +"the most glorious in the world. On a high rock is her throne; a +fire surrounds her abode; only he who shall break through the fire +may proffer his suit for Bruennhilde." Gunther's mediocrity and +his sense of it stand ingenuously confessed in his question: "Is my +courage sufficient for the test?" "The achievement is reserved for +one stronger even than you." "Who is this unparalleled champion?" +"Siegfried, the son of the Waelsungen.... He, grown in the forest to +mighty size and strength, is the man I wish Gutrune for her lord." +Gutrune's motif, sweet and shallow, like Gunther's betrays her; an +innocent admission of mediocrity, too, is in her exclamation: "You +mocker! Unkind Hagen! How should I be able to attach Siegfried +to me?" She is unsure of her feminine charm as her brother of his +manly courage. As he finds nothing repugnant in the proposition +to win his bride through another, so she accepts to win her love +through a magic potion. Gunther, Gutrune, and Hunding are the only +plain human beings in the drama of the Ring, and certainly they produce +the effect of rampant creatures among winged ones. Acquiescently +Gutrune hears Hagen's suggestion: "Remember the drink in the cupboard; +trust me who provided it. By means of it, the hero whom you desire +shall be bound to you by love. Were Siegfried now to enter, were +he to taste the spiced drink, that he ever saw a woman before you, +that ever a woman approached him, he must totally forget!" Thus +they have it planned: Siegfried shall by a love-potion be won to +Gutrune, and, as a task by which to obtain her from her brother, +shall be deputed to fetch Bruennhilde for him from her flame-surrounded +heights. Hagen is alone, of the three, to know of the tie existing +between Siegfried and Bruennhilde. But, "How shall we find him?" +very pertinently asks Gunther. While storming light-heartedly about +the world in search of adventures, it can hardly be, Hagen judges, +but that he shall come too to Gibich's shore on the Rhine. Even +while he is speaking, Siegfried's horn is heard in the distance. +Hagen from the riverside describes the figure he sees approaching: +"In a boat, a hero and a horse: he it is, so merrily blowing the +horn. By an easy stroke, as if with an idle hand, he drives the +craft against the stream." (We hear that easy stroke of the idle +hand,--the power and gaiety of Siegfried are in it; it has a family +resemblance to the horn-call.) "So vigourous a hand at the swinging +of the scull he alone can boast who slew the dragon. It is Siegfried, +surely no other!" Hagen makes a speaking-tube of his hands: "Hoiho! +Whither, blithesome hero?" "To the strong son of Gibich!" comes +answer from the river. "Here! Here come ashore! Hail, Siegfried, +beloved hero!" The hero lands. As he stands at the entrance, holding +Grane by the bridle, with the unconstraint of ancient manners they +all quietly before speaking take one another's measure with their +eyes. Siegfried's fame has preceded him. He is known as the slayer +of the dragon, the possessor of the Hort, and commander of the +Nibelungen. "Which is the son of Gibich?" he inquires. Gunther +presents himself. "I heard you lauded far down the Rhine," Siegfried +says; and, with the fresh directness again of ancient manners: +"Either fight with me, or be my friend!" As we see him for the +first time among common mortals, we perceive the effect of high +elegance which pertains to Siegfried's calm, his careless perfect +strength and simplicity. Gutrune who has not removed her marvelling +gaze from him since his entrance, withdraws--to prepare the drink. +As Hagen takes his horse to stable, Siegfried charges him, while +a dear memory sings in his heart: "Take good care of Grane for +me. Never did you hold by the bridle a horse of nobler breed!" + +Magnificent is Gunther in expressions of welcome to the great guest: +"Joyfully hail, O hero, the Hall of my fathers! The ground you +tread, all you see, regard as your own. Yours is my inheritance, +yours are my land and my people. To these add my body. I offer +myself as your vassal." Siegfried replies: "I offer neither land +nor people; no father's mansion nor court. My sole inheritance is +my own body, which I expend day by day in living. Nothing have +I but a sword, forged by myself.... This I pledge with myself to +our alliance." Hagen, overhearing, ventures; "Yet report calls +you possessor of the Nibelungen-Hort...." And Siegfried; "I had +almost forgotten the treasure, so do I prize its idle wealth! I +left it lying in a cave where it once was guarded by a dragon." (The +reason is clear why the curse must drop away crippled, powerless +to blight this free nature, unenfeebled by covetousness as by fear!) +"And you brought away no part of it?" "This metal-work, unaware of +its use." Hagen recognises the Tarnhelm and explains its virtues. +"And you took from the Hort nothing further?" "A ring." "You have +it no doubt in safe keeping?" "It is in the keeping of a gracious +woman," Siegfried replies dreamily. + +Bashful, blushing, tremulous, as different as is well possible from +Bruennhilde, Gutrune approaches, holding a filled drinking-horn. +"Welcome, guest, in Gibich's house! His daughter offers you drink!" + +Siegfried holds the cup before him a moment without drinking, his +thoughts flying afar. The words come back to him spoken to Bruennhilde +at parting. An infinite tenderness invades him. "Though I should +forget all you ever taught me," he murmurs, "one teaching I shall +still hold fast. My first draught, to faithful love, Bruennhilde, +I drink to you!" With which secret toast to the absent beloved +he sets the horn to his lips and drains it--to the motif of Evil +Enchantment, the motif of the Cup of Forgetfulness, closely resembling +the Tarnhelm-motif, but sweeter,--cruel as a treacherous caress. +This whole passage, surpassingly exquisite to the ear, is painful +to the heart as hardly another in the opera, fertile as this is +in tragic moments. It marks the end of so much happiness. + +When Siegfried's eyes, as he returns the cup to Gibich's daughter, +rest upon her, it is, as Hagen had foretold, as if he had never +before beheld a woman. The inflammable heart which suffocated him +of old at sight of Bruennhilde asleep, now makes his voice falter +with instantaneous passion as he exclaims: "You, whose beauty dazzles +like lightning, wherefore do you drop your eyes before me?" And +when shyly she looks up: "Ha, fairest woman, hide your glance! +Its beam scorches the heart within my breast--Gunther, what is +your sister's name?... Gutrune!... Are they _good runes_ which I +read in her eye?..." Impetuously he seizes her hand; "I offered +myself to your brother as his vassal, the haughty one repelled me; +will you exhibit the same arrogance toward me, if I offer myself +as your ally?" She cannot answer, for the confusion of joy which +overwhelms her; signifying by a gesture her unworthiness of this +high honour, with unsteady step she leaves the room. Siegfried, +closely observed by the other two, gazes lingeringly after her, +fast-bewitched. Some sketch of a project for winning her it must +be prompting his next words: "Have you, Gunther, a wife?" "Not +yet have I courted, and hardly shall I rejoice in a wife! I have +set my heart upon one whom no well-advised endeavour can win for +me!" "In what can you fail," speaks Siegfried's brisk assurance, "if +I stand by you?" "Upon a high rock is her throne, a fire surrounds +her abode," Gunther in hopeless tone describes the forbidding +circumstances. "Upon a high rock is her throne, a fire surrounds +her abode,..." Siegfried rapidly says the words after him, which +his lips know so strangely well. "Only he who breaks through the +fire..." "Only he who breaks through the fire,..." Siegfried is +visibly making a tremendous effort to remember, to account for +the something so curiously familiar in the image evoked. "May be +Bruennhilde's suitor...." By this, the cup of forgetfulness has +completely done its work,--the name suggests to him nothing, the +effort itself to remember is forgotten. "But not for me," sighs +Gunther, "to climb the rock; the fire will not die down for me!" +"I fear no fire! I will win the woman for you," Siegfried declares, +"for your man am I, and my valour is yours, if I may obtain Gutrune +for my wife!" Gutrune is promised him. It is Siegfried's heated +brain--for the first time fruitful in stratagem--which throws off +the plan to deceive this strange woman up in the fire-girdled fastness +of whom they tell him, by means of the Tarnhelm, which lends the +wearer any shape he wish to adopt. The future brothers swear +"blood-brotherhood," pledging their truth in wine, into which each +has let trickle a drop of his blood. "If one of the brothers shall +break the bond, if one of the friends shall betray his faithful +ally, let that which in kindness we drink to-day by drops gush +forth in streams, sacred reparation to the friend!" They clasp +hands upon the compact, and Hagen with his sword cleaves in two +the drinking-horn. "Why," it occurs to Siegfried, "did not you, +Hagen, join in the oath?" "My blood would have spoiled the drink," +replies the joyless man; "it does not flow noble and untroubled +like yours; cold and morose it stagnates in me, and will not colour +my cheek. Wherefore I keep afar from the fiery league." The ancient +conception of the power of a vow, as of the power of a curse, is +interestingly illustrated in this story. The effectiveness of a vow, +as we discover, has nothing to do with persons or circumstances; an +oath becomes a sort of independent creation with a precise operation +of its own. Hagen, capable of any breach of faith, meditating nothing +but treachery, dare not join in the formality of the oath because of +sure and deadly danger in breaking it. Siegfried deceives Gunther +without intending or knowing it, yet his blood must "gush forth +in streams" as appointed, to wash out his offence. + +Siegfried is for starting without delay on the quest: "There is +my skiff; it will take us quickly to the rock; one night you shall +wait in the boat on the shore, then shall you lead home the bride." + +The Hall is left in Hagen's care. Followed by Gutrune's eyes, the +heroes hurry off. Hagen places himself with spear and shield in +the doorway, and, while sitting there sentinel-wise, reflects upon +the success of his devices: "Blown along by the wind, the son of +Gibich goes a-wooing. Helmsman to him is a strong hero, who is to +brave danger in his stead. His own bride this latter will bring +for him to the Rhine, but to me he will bring--the Ring! You frank +good fellows, light-hearted companions, sail cheerfully on! Abject +though he may seem to you, you are yet his servants--the servants +of the Nibelung's son!" The curtain closes. + +When it reopens we see the scene once more of Siegfried's and +Bruennhilde's leave-taking. Bruennhilde sits sunk in contemplation of +the Ring and the memories attached to it. Distant thunder disturbs +her dreams; her ear seizes a familiar sound, not heard for many a +day, the gallop of an approaching air-horse. Her name comes borne +on the wind. She rushes to receive Waltraute, whose call she has +joyfully recognised. In her delight, she does not at once take +account of the Valkyrie's sorrowful and preoccupied mien. She presses +rapid questions upon her: "You dared then for love of Bruennhilde +brave Walvater's commandment? Or--how? Oh, tell me! Has Wotan's +disposition softened toward me? When I protected Siegmund against +the god, while it was a fault, I know that I was fulfilling his +wish. I know, too, that his anger was appeased, for even though he +sealed me in slumber, left me bound on a rock, to be the bondmaid +of the man who should find and wake me, yet he granted favour to +the prayer of my terror, he surrounded the rock with a devouring +fire which should close the way to the base. Thus was I through my +punishment made happy! The most splendid of heroes won me for wife. +In the light of his love to-day I beam and laugh!" With uncontrolled +joy she embraces the sister, unconscious of the latter's impatience +and shy attempt to repel her. "Did my fate, sister, allure you? +Have you come to pasture your sight upon my bliss, to share that +which has befallen me?" + +The suggestion is verily too much! "To share the tumult which, +insensate, possesses you? A different matter it is which impelled +me, fearful, to break Wotan's commandment...." Bruennhilde wakes +to the sister's troubled looks, but she can still think of but +one reason for them. "The stern one has not forgiven? You stand +in terror of his anger?" "Had I need to fear him--there would be a +term to my fear!" "Amazed, I do not understand you!" "Master your +agitation, listen attentively. The terror which drove me forth +from Walhalla, drives me back thither...." "What has happened to +the eternal gods?" cries Bruennhilde, at last alarmed. Waltraute +unfolds to her then the sorrowful plight of the gods, making her +even over the events in Walhalla since her cutting off from the +eternal dynasty. She describes Walvater returning home from his +wanderings with his broken spear, the erection around the Hall +of the Blessed of the funeral pile cut from the World-Ash, the +assembling about Wotan's throne of the gods and heroes. "There he +sits, speaks no word, the splinters of the spear clenched in his +hand. Holda's (Freia's) apples he will not touch. Fear and amazement +bind the gods. His ravens both he has sent ranging; should they +return with good tidings, then once again--for the last time!--the +god would divinely smile. Clasping his knees lie we Valkyries; +he is blind to our entreating looks. I pressed weeping against +his breast, his glance wavered--Bruennhilde, he thought of you! +Deeply he sighed; he closed his eyes and as if in dream he breathed +forth the words: "If to the daughters of the deep Rhine she would +restore the Ring, delivered from the weight of the curse were the +gods and the world!" I bethought me then; from his side, between +the rows of silent heroes, I stole. In secret haste I mounted my +horse and rode upon the storm to you. You, oh, my sister, I now +conjure: that which lies in your power, bravely do it,--end the +misery of the Immortals!" + +Bruennhilde speaks to her pityingly and gently; it is so long since +she emerged from the vapour-dimmed atmosphere of her heavenly home +that she receives no clear impression, she owns, of the affair +related to her; but: "What, pale sister, do you crave from me?" + +"Upon your hand, the ring--that is the one! Listen to my counsel, +for Wotan's sake cast it from you!" "The ring? Cast it from me?" +"To the Rhine-daughters give it back!" "To the Rhine-daughters, +I, this ring? Siegfried's love-token? Are you mad?" + +Bruennhilde is unshaken by Waltraute's insistence. Good or bad arguments +have nothing to do with the case, as it stands in her feeling. +Indignation possesses her at the bare notion of the exchange proposed +to her, out of all reason and proportion: Siegfried's love, of +which his ring is the symbol, for Walhalla's and the world's peace! +"Ha! do you know what the ring is to me? How should you grasp it, +unfeeling maid? More than the joys of Walhalla, more than the glory +of the Immortals, is to me this ring; one look at its clear gold, +one flash of its noble lustre, I prize more than the eternally +enduring joy of all the gods, for it is Siegfried's love which +beams at me from the ring! Oh, might I tell you the bliss.... And +that bliss is safeguarded by the ring. Return to the holy council +of the gods; inform them, concerning my ring: Love I will never +renounce; they shall never take love from me, not though Walhalla +the radiant should crash down in ruins!" When Waltraute with cries of +"Woe!" flees to horse, she looks after her unmoved: "Lightning-charged +cloud, borne by the wind, go your stormy way! Nevermore steer your +course toward me!" She has no regrets; the request has been in +her judgment so monstrous that it has hardened and shut her heart +toward those who made it. She gazes quietly over the landscape. Her +sense of security in Siegfried's love is no doubt at its firmest +in these moments following her fiery defence of it, her sacrifice +to it of old allegiances. The very peace of possession is upon +her. + +Twilight has fallen; the guardian fire glows more brightly as the +darkness thickens. Of a sudden, the flames leap high,--Loge's signal +that some one draws near. At the same moment Siegfried's horn is +heard, approaching. With the cry: "In my god's arm!" Bruennhilde +rushes to meet him. + +A figure springs from the flames upon a rock, a form foreign to +Bruennhilde's eyes. The flames drop back. The figure remains, dark +against the dim glow of the sky. His head and the greater part of +his face are concealed by a helmet of curious fashion; she does +not, in the uncertain light, recognise the Tarnhelm. The fact itself +of his being there is terrifying, arguing some singular treachery +somewhere. "Treason!" is Bruennhilde's first cry, as she recoils and +from a distance stares breathlessly at the sinister intruder. He +stands motionless, leaning upon his shield and regarding her. "Who +is it that has forced his way to me?" she gasps. He is silent still; +the horror of him is increased by his silence and motionlessness +and his metal mask. The motif of evil enchantment is woven through +the whole of this scene. In a hard masterful voice he speaks at +length: "Bruennhilde! A suitor is come whom your fire does not alarm! +I seek you for my wife; follow me unresistingly." It is all so +strange, so like the agonising impossibilities of a dream,--Bruennhilde +falls to trembling. "Who are you, dreadful one? Are you a mortal? +Do you come from Hella's army of the night?" Still watching her, +motionless on his point of vantage, he replies: "A Gibichung am +I, and Gunther is the hero's name, whom, woman, you must follow." +It flashes upon Bruennhilde that this, this must have been the true +point of Wotan's punishment. When the figure springs from the rock +and approaches her, she raises, to hold him off, the hand with +Siegfried's ring. "Stand back! Fear this sign!... Stronger than +steel I am made by this ring; never shall you rob me of it!" "You +teach me," he replies, with his dark calm, "to detach it from you!" +He reaches for it, she defends it. They wrestle. She escapes from +him with a victorious cry. He seizes her again. The former Valkyrie, +reinforced by the Ring, is a match very nearly for the stalwart +Waelsung. A shriek is heard. He has caught her hand, and draws the +ring from her finger. As if all her strength had been in it and +were gone with its loss, she sinks, broken, in the arms of the +disguised Siegfried. He coldly lets her down upon the seat of rock. +"Now you are mine, Bruennhilde,--Gunther's bride. Withhold not your +favour from me now!" She cowers, shattered and stupefied, murmuring, +"How could you have helped yourself, miserable woman!" The right of +the stronger she recognises, primitive woman, as a right. Fairly +vanquished, she must accept the fate of battle,--no dignity, as no +success, would pertain to further struggle. When with a gesture +of command he points her to her stone chamber, trembling and with +faltering step she obeys. Siegfried, following, draws his sword +and in his natural voice again, smooth and happy, addresses it: +"Now, Nothung, do you bear witness to the restraint which marks +my wooing. Guarding my truth to my brother, divide me from his +bride!" + +II + +The Hall of the Gibichungen once more, seen from the outside. It +is night. Hagen sits as we left him, in guard over the hall. He +sleeps leaning against a pillar of the portal. A burst of moonlight +shows Alberich crouching before him. "Are you asleep, Hagen, my +son? Are you asleep and deaf to my voice, whom sleep and rest have +forsaken?" "I hear you, harassed spirit; what message have you +for my sleep?" Remember! remember! is the burden of Alberich's +communication. Be true to the task for the purpose of which you +were created. The old enemy, Wotan, is no longer to be feared; +he has been made powerless by one of his own race. The object now +singly to be kept in view is the destruction of this latter, and +capture of the Ring in his possession. Quickly it must be done, +for "a wise woman there is, living for love of the Waelsung; were +she to bid him restore the Ring to the Rhine-daughters, for ever +and ever lost were the gold!" "The Ring I will have!" Hagen quiets +the care-ridden Nibelung, "rest in peace!" "Do you swear it to me, +Hagen, my hero?" "I swear it to myself!" Dawn has been creeping +over the sky. The form of Alberich fades in the growing light and +his voice dies on the ear: "Be faithful, Hagen, my son, be +faithful--faithful!" Hagen sits alone in the broadening day, seemingly +asleep, yet with eyes wide open. He starts. Flushed with the +morning-red, Siegfried strides up from the river-bank, uttering +his joyful "Hoiho!" "Siegfried, winged hero, whence do you come so +fast?" "From Bruennhilde's rock. I there took in the breath which I +put forth in calling you,--so rapid was my journey. A couple follows +me more slowly. Their journey is by boat. Is Gutrune awake?" + +"Now make we welcome, Gibich's-child!" he greets her, as at Hagen's +call she comes hurrying out to him. "I bring good tidings!" In +exuberantly good spirits he tells them the story of his bad action. +The magic draught administered to him had more than destroyed his +memory of Bruennhilde, we must believe; the inflaming potion had +somehow blotted out, or covered over and for the time cast into +the background, his father's part in him, the part of Siegmund, who +fought to the end an unequal and losing battle to save a girl from +a marriage without love. "Across the expiring fire," he concludes +his report, "through the mists of early dawn, she followed me from +the mountain-top to the valley. At the shore, Gunther and I, in +a trice, changed places, and by virtue of the Tarnhelm I wished +myself here. A strong wind is even at the moment driving our dear +pair up the Rhine." "Let us display all kindness in our reception of +her," Gutrune proposes, with the generosity of overflowing happiness; +"that she may be pleased and glad to sojourn with us here! Do you, +Hagen, summon the vassals to the wedding at Gibich's court, while +I will gather the women." Siegfried fondly offers her his help; +hand in hand they go within. + +Hagen is conscious, presumably, of an incongruity in the task assigned +to him, the genial office of gathering together the clans for a +wedding-feast. However that may be, he does not, to perform it, +depart at all from his character. Ascending to an eminence, he +blows a melancholy blast through a great steer-horn, and, in a +voice portending tidings the most alarming, gives the call to arms: +"Hoiho! Gibich's men! Up! Arms in the land! Danger! Danger!" In +this he persists until from all sides, singly at first, then in +groups and lastly in crowds, the vassals, hurriedly armed, come +flocking. "Why does the horn sound? Why are we called to arms? +Here we are with our weapons.... Hagen, what danger threatens? +What enemy is near? Who attacks us? Is Gunther in need of us?" +"Forthwith prepare, and dally not, to receive Gunther returning +home. He has wooed a wife!" This still in a tone befitting the +announcement of disaster. "Is he in trouble? Is he hard pressed +by the foe?" "A formidable wife he brings home!" "Is he pursued +by the hostile kindred of the maid?" "He comes alone, unpursued." +"The danger then is past? He has come forth victorious from the +encounter?" "The dragon-slayer succoured him in his need; Siegfried, +the hero, secured his safety." "How then shall his followers further +help him?" "Strong steers you shall slaughter and let Wotan's altar +stream with their blood." "And what, Hagen, are we to do after +that?" "A boar shall you slay for Froh, a mighty ram for Donner; +but to Fricka you shall sacrifice sheep, that she may bless the +marriage!" + +The men are beginning to penetrate through Hagen's sullen aspect +to his joke; with heavy playfulness they help it on. "And when we +have slaughtered the animals, what shall we do?" "From the hands +of fair women take the drinking-horn, pleasantly brimming with +wine and mead." "Horn in hand,--what then?" "Bravely carouse until +drunkenness overwhelm you--all to the honour of the gods, that they +may bless the marriage!" The rough warriors break into laughter, +and in uncouth jollity stamp with their feet and spear-butts. "Great +good fortune is indeed abroad on the Rhine when Hagen the grim +grows jovial!" Not the faintest smile illumines the bleak face. At +sight of Gunther's skiff approaching, he checks the men's laughter. +Moving among them, with careful foresight he drops seed toward +fruits of trouble: "Be loyal to your sovereign mistress, serve +her faithfully; if she should suffer wrong, be swift to avenge +her!" Hagen's plan for bringing about Siegfried's destruction is +not yet at this point settled in outline. We see him grasping at +whatever can be construed into a weapon against him. There are +repeated attempts on his part in the scene following to stir against +Siegfried some fatal demonstration of popular anger. + +The skiff draws to land. The vassals greet their lord and his bride +with noisy chorus of welcome, clashing their arms together, beating +their swords against their bucklers. + +Bruennhilde stands beside Gunther in the boat, statue-still, her eyes +bent on the ground, like one who neither sees nor hears. Without +resistance she lets Gunther take her hand to help her ashore; but +a suppressed snatch of the motif of Wotan's resentment suggests +the shudder ominous of danger overrunning his Valkyrie daughter +at the contact. + +This is Gunther's hour, this for him the supreme occasion in life; +the star of his destiny rides the heavens unclouded; he feels now +magnificent indeed in his seat on the Rhine, as he stands before his +people with the regal creature beside him whom he calls his wife. +As if to express the momentary expansion of his nature, his motif +resounds, as proudly he presents her, quite changed in character; it +has taken on a grandeur approaching pomp: "Bruennhilde, the glory +of her sex, I bring to you here on the Rhine. A nobler wife was +never won! The race of the Gibichungen, by the grace of the gods, +shall now tower to crowning heights of fame!" Bruennhilde does not +heed or hear. When, as Gunther leads her toward the Hall, Siegfried +and Gutrune meet them, coming forth from it with strains of +marriage-music and a festal train of ladies, her eyes never moving +from the ground, she does not see them. "Hail, beloved hero! Hail, +dearest sister!" Gunther greets the bridal pair. "Joyfully I behold +at your side, sister, him who has won you. Two happy pairs are +here met--Bruennhilde and Gunther, Gutrune and Siegfried!" + +At the name, Bruennhilde looks quickly up.... Her astonished gaze +fastens upon Siegfried's face and dwells intently upon it. Her +action is so marked that Gunther drops her hand; all watch her +in wonder. A murmur runs through the assembly: "What ails her? Is +she out of her mind?" Bruennhilde, still speechless, falls visibly +to trembling. Siegfried becomes at last aware of something out of +the common in the gaze so persistently fixed upon him. He goes +quietly to the woman and asks: "What trouble burdens Bruennhilde's +gaze?" She has hardly power to frame words, make sounds, her emotion +still further intensified by his cool and disengaged address. +"Siegfried, here!... Gutrune!" she painfully brings forth. "Gunther's +gentle sister," he enlightens her, in his major, matter-of-fact +manner, "wedded to me, as you to Gunther!" At this she recovers her +voice to hurl at him startlingly: "I--to Gunther?... A lie!" She +is swooning with the helpless horror of all this monstrous mystery. +Siegfried, who stands nearest, receives her as she totters, near to +falling. As she lies for a moment in the well-known arms, it seems +impossible, beyond everything impossible, that his unimaginable +purpose should not break down, that he should not be forced to +drop this incomprehensible feint of strangeness. But her dying +eyes searching the face close to them discover in it no glimmer +of feeling. Her heart-broken murmur: "Siegfried.... knows me not?" +touches no chord. The hero is for handing her over with all convenient +haste to her proper guardian. "Gunther, your wife is ailing!" As +Gunther comes, he rouses her: "Awake, woman! Here is your husband!" +Because her senses seem clouded and she a moment before rejected +the statement that she was married to Gunther, he singles out for +her with his finger the personage he means. Her eyes, as he makes +this gesture, are caught by the Ring on his hand. Her mind leaps, +inevitably, to the conclusion that Siegfried, who feigns not to +know her, not only has cast her off, but is in collusion with this +man Gunther, her captor. + +Trying by a supreme effort to govern her agitation and anger at +the revelation of this unspeakable baseness, till she shall have +sounded the affair, "A ring I saw upon your finger," she addresses +him; "not to you does it belong; it was torn from me by this man!" +indicating Gunther. "How should you have received the ring from +him?" Siegfried looks reflectively at the ring. Since all trace of +the former Bruennhilde is wiped from his brain, he cannot remember +his parting gift to her of the Ring. Certainly, he wrested a ring +from this woman, in the twilight.... What became of it?... But +the ring on his hand is indisputably a relic of the old days of +the fight with the dragon. "I did not receive the ring from him," +he replies. She turns to Gunther: "If you took from me the ring, +by which you claimed me for wife, declare to him your right to it, +demand back the token!" Gunther is sore perplexed. "The ring?... +I gave him none.... Are you sure that is the one?" "Where do you +conceal the ring," Bruennhilde presses him, "which you robbed from +me?" Gunther is stupidly silent, not knowing what he should say; his +confusion is so obvious and his blankness so convincingly unassumed, +that the truth is borne upon Bruennhilde: It was not he, despite +all appearances, who took the ring from her, and if not he--"Ha!" +she cries, in a burst of furious indignation, "This is the man +who tore the ring from me; Siegfried, trickster and thief!" + +Siegfried has been still gazing at the ring on his hand, trying +to puzzle out points which the lacunae in his memory do not permit +him to make clear. The contemplation has brought back old scenes +and distant events. He speaks, unruffled: "From no woman did I +receive the ring; nor did I take it from any woman. Full well do +I recognise the prize of battle, won by me before Neidhoehle, when +I slew the mighty dragon." + +With what quiet and conviction he makes the statement, as if verily +he spoke the truth! Such assurance is hardly imaginable, save as based +upon conscious integrity.... Hagen now, the fisher in troubled waters, +interferes, still further to increase Bruennhilde's bewilderment: +"Are you sure you recognise the ring? If it is the one you gave +to Gunther, it belongs to him, and Siegfried obtained it by some +artifice which the deceiver shall be made to rue!" + +Plainly, there is no way of help in clearing up this desperate +tangle. The goaded woman bursts into a wild outcry, sharp as a +knife by which she should hope to cut through the coil in which +she is caught: "Deceit! Deceit! Dastardly deceit!... Treachery! +Treachery! such as never until this moment called for vengeance!" + +Gutrune catches her breath: "Deceit?..." The quickly roused suspicion +of the crowd takes up Bruennhilde's word: "Treachery?... To whom?..." + +"Holy gods! Heavenly leaders!" Bruennhilde's madness clamours to +heaven: "Did you appoint this in your councils? Do you impose upon +me sufferings such as never were suffered? Do you create ignominy +for me such as never was endured? Prompt me then to vengeance such +as never yet raged! Enkindle anger in me such as never was quelled! +Teach Bruennhilde to break her own heart that she may shatter the +one who betrayed her!" The ineffectual Gunther tries vainly to +hush her, to stop the scandalous scene. "Away!" she thrusts him +from her, "cheat!... Yourself cheated!" and she announces ringingly +to them all the one thing which in all this confusion she knows +to be true: "Not to him (Gunther) am I married, but to that man, +there!" + +"Siegfried?... Gutrune's husband?" the murmur passes through the +astonished crowd. + +"Love and delight he forced from me...." Her momentary hatred of +Siegfried thus distorts the image of the past. Siegfried's only +possible interpretation of this astonishing declaration is that +the Tarnhelm did not properly conceal his identity--but even so +the woman is not speaking the truth. What her purpose can be in +thus darkening her own fame he is at a loss to divine. He replies +to her charge directly, careless at this point that the plot between +Gunther and himself stands betrayed by his words. "Hear, whether I +have broken my faith! Blood-brotherhood I swore to Gunther: Nothung, +my worthy sword, guarded the vow of truth; its sharp blade divided +me from this unhappy woman!" Bruennhilde hears him with a jeer. They +are speaking at cross purposes; he, as it should be remembered, +of the foregoing night alone, while she speaks of that past so +wholly blotted from his mind. "Oh, wily hero! see how you lie! +how ill-advisedly you call to witness your sword! I am acquainted +indeed with its sharpness, but acquainted, too, with the sheath--in +which, pleasantly encased, Nothung, the faithful friend, hung against +the wall, while the master courted his dear!" + +"How?... How?..." the agitated followers are beginning to ask. "Has +he broken his word? Has he smirched Gunther's honour?" Gunther, +Gutrune, the vassals, all a little shaken in their faith in Siegfried +by the assurance of his accuser, press him to refute her charge, +clear himself, take the oath which shall silence the disgraceful +accusation. He unhesitatingly asks for a weapon upon which to swear. +Hagen craftily offers his spear. Siegfried placing his right hand +on the point, solemnly calls upon the sacred weapon to register +his oath, wording it in the following ill-omened fashion: "Where +sharpness may pierce me, do you pierce me; where death shall strike +me, do you strike me, if yonder woman spoke the truth, if I broke +my vow to my brother!" Bruennhilde hearing, flings his hand from the +spear-point, and grasping it in her own, pronounces the counter-oath: +"Your weight I consecrate, spear, that it may overthrow him! Your +sharpness I bless, that it may pierce him! For, having broken every +vow, this man now speaks perjury!" Siegfried and Bruennhilde each +believe that what he swears is true; but the Oath, the blind power +which takes no account of intention, of moral right or wrong, gives +right in sequence to Bruennhilde. The spear pierces the hero who +invokes it so to do "if the woman spoke true." + +There is nothing more, the solemn oath taken, that Siegfried can +do, and in his stalwart fashion he turns his back on the whole +troublesome business, with the sensible suggestion that the wild +woman from the mountains be given rest and quiet "until the impudent +rage shall have spent itself which some unholy wizardry has suscitated" +against them all. + +"You men, come away!" he subjoins, all his heroic good-humour recovered. +"When the fighting is to be done with tongues, we will willingly +pass for cowards!" For Gunther, whom he sees darkly brooding, he +has a word in the ear: "Believe me, I am more vexed than you that I +should not have more perfectly deceived her; the Tarnhelm, I could +almost believe, only half disguised me. But the anger of women is +soon appeased. The woman will beyond a doubt be grateful hereafter +that I should have won her for you!" The winged exhilaration of +the bridegroom repossessing him, he invites them all in to the +wedding-feast, and casting his arm gaily around Gutrune draws her +along with him into the Hall--whither the people swarm after them. + +The three are left outside whom no festivity can allure. In long +silence they remain, sunk in gloomy study, each on his side. To +attempt arriving at clearness by questions does not occur to them; +and, indeed, what to each is the principal thing, known from the +proof of his eyes, no discussion could affect: for Bruennhilde, +Siegfried is estranged from her; for Gunther, his marriage is turned +to Dead-Sea apples. + +The cheerful music, the summons to the wedding, dies away. Hagen +bends his black brow in reflection as to how he shall utilise to +his advantage the passions he has aroused; covertly he watches +his victims. Gunther has cast himself down and muffled his face +from the day, in the clutch of his jealous suspicion of Siegfried +and the smart of his public shame. + +Bruennhilde stands staring ahead, with set countenance of horror +and grief. In an hour she has lived the tragedy which, spread over +howsoever many years, is still one of the hardest in human experience, +the tragedy which extorted Othello's groan: "But there, where I +have garnered up my heart, where either I must live or bear no +life--to be discarded thence!" She seeks in the void and blackness +some glimmer of light on the incredible mystery of these events. +With returning calm, a flash of the truth illuminates her, to the +extent that she suspects in the unnatural developments of the last +hour the work of sorcery. While hardly helping the actual situation, +this interpretation frees Siegfried from the hatefulness of such +black guilt as has appeared his, and we feel from this moment that +Bruennhilde's undeterred reaching after vengeance, her consent to +Siegfried's death, is less a personal need to make an offender +pay, than the instinct to cut short the dishonour in which the most +magnificent hero in the world is fallen. Impossible of endurance +is a world where Siegfried is false to all his vows, where Siegfried +and Bruennhilde are no longer each to the other "for ever and ever, +his only and his all!" Heartbreak much more than resentment stamps +Bruennhilde's cry: "Where is my wisdom against this enigma? Where +are my runes? Oh, lamentation! All my wisdom I bestowed on him. +In his power he holds the bondmaid, in thongs the captive, whom, +wailing over her wrong, the rich one joyously makes gift of to +another! Where shall I find a sword with which to cut the thongs?" + +Hagen approaches her: "Place your trust in me, deceived woman! I +will avenge you on him who betrayed you...." + +"On whom?..." she inquires, hazily. _Him who betrayed you_ describes +more than one. "On Siegfried, who betrayed you." "On Siegfried... +you?..." She laughs, bitterly, while her unquelled pride in her +faithless lord mocks: "A single glance of his flashing eye, which +even through the lying disguise shed its radiance upon me, and +your best courage would fail you!" + +"But is he not, by reason of his perjury, reserved for my spear?" + +"Perjury or none, you must fortify your spear by something stronger, +if you think of attacking that strongest of all!" "Well I know," the +subtle Hagen, with an effect of humbleness, continues, "Siegfried's +victorious strength, and how difficult to overcome him in battle; +wherefore do you give me good counsel: by what device may this +giant be defeated by me?" + +She breaks into complaint over the shameful requital with which +the love has met that, unknown to him, by charms woven all about +his body, made him invulnerable. + +"No weapon then can hurt him?" asks Hagen. + +"No weapon that is borne in battle...." But she corrects herself, +remembering suddenly that he might, in truth, be wounded in the +back. "Never, I knew, would he retreat or in flight show his back to +the foe. Upon it therefore I spared to place the spell." "And there +my spear shall strike him!" determines Hagen. Having learned from her +all that he need, he turns to Gunther: "Up, noble Gibichung! Here +stands your strong wife. Why do you hang back there in dejection?" + +Gunther breaks into passionate exclamations over the indignity +he has suffered. Close indeed upon his hour of glory comes the +hour of his humiliation, when he must hear from the queenly woman +in whom his pride was placed such words as these: "Oh, ignoble, +false companion! Behind the hero you concealed yourself, that he +might gain for you the prize of courage! Low indeed has your precious +race sunk, when it produces such dastards!" Gunther utters broken +excuses, "while deceiving her he was himself deceived,--betraying +her, he was betrayed--" and appeals to Hagen to stamp him out of +life or help him to wash the stain off his honour! + +Hagen has them now both where, for his purposes, he wishes them. +"No brain can help you," he replies to Gunther, "nor can any hand! +There is but one thing can help you--Siegfried's death!" The two +words fall awfully on the air, followed by a long silence. The +irresolute Gunther at the sound of the sentence writhes amid doubts +and hesitations, such as do not for a moment move his stern +fellow-sufferer. He remembers the blood-brotherhood sworn to Siegfried; +he begins to question whether the blood-brother has in very fact +been false. A returning wave of affection and admiration for the +beautiful fellow calls forth a sigh, and then the thought of Gutrune: +"Gutrune, to whom myself I freely gave him! If we punish her husband +so, with what face shall we stand before her?" At this mention of +Gutrune, a light breaks upon Bruennhilde; "Gutrune!... is the name +of the magic charm which has enchanted away from me my husband.... +Terror smite her!" "If the manner of his death must offend her, let +the deed be hidden from her," Hagen soothes Gunther's scruple. +"We will to-morrow fare on a merry hunting-expedition. The noble +one will, according to his impetuous wont, go ranging ahead of +us, and meet his death by a wild boar." + +The three, coming to a common determination upon the fall of Siegfried, +are calling upon the different powers to whom they refer their +deeds to hear their vows of revenge--Bruennhilde and Gunther upon +Wotan, guardian of promises, Hagen upon Alberich--who through the +happy working of this vow of vengeance will be master once more of +the Ring--when from the Hall comes pouring forth, with music and +strewing of flowers, the bridal procession. Gutrune, rose-wreathed, +is borne shoulder-high upon a gilded and begarlanded throne. At the +vision of her and the glowing Siegfried at her side, Bruennhilde +shrinks back. Hagen forces her hand into Gunther's, and this second +bridal pair falls into the train winding up the hillside to offer +the nuptial sacrifices. + +III + +A rocky and wooded valley opening on the Rhine. It is part of the +region over-ranged by the hunting-party of Hagen's devising. The +horns of the hunters are heard in the distance,--Siegfried's horn-call +among them, and Hagen's. + +Our old acquaintances, the Rhine-daughters, rise to the surface of +the water. They have warning or scent that Siegfried is not far, +with the Ring, their stolen gold. They complain in their undulating +song of the darkness now in the deep, where of old it was light, +when the gold was there to shine for them. Notwithstanding their +loss, they are little less full of their fun than before; they +splash and frolic in the water and with their voices copy the crystal +play of the river. They pray the sun to send their way the hero +who shall give them back the gold, after which they will regard +without envy the sun's luminous eye! Siegfried's horn is heard. +Recognising it as that of the hero who interests them, they dive +under to consult together,--concerning the best method, of course, +of extracting from him the Ring. + +Siegfried comes to the edge of the bank overhanging the river, in +search of tracks of his game, mysteriously lost. He is blaming some +wood-imp for playing him a trick, when the Rhine-daughters, rising +into sight, hail him by name. They adopt with him the playful, teasing +tone of pretty girls with a likely-looking young fellow: "What are +you grumbling into the ground?.... What imp excites your ire?... +Has a water-sprite bothered you?... Tell us, Siegfried, tell us!" +He watches them, smiling, and replies in their own vein: "Have you +charmed into your dwellings the shaggy fellow who disappeared from +my sight? If he is your sweetheart, far be it from me, you merry +ladies, to deprive you of him!" They laugh loud and long, the +Rhine-nymphs. "What will you give us, Siegfried, if we find your +game for you?" "I have so far no fruit of my chase. You must tell +me what you would like!" "A golden ring gleams on your finger..." +suggests Wellgunde, and, unable to restrain their eagerness, the +three cry out in a voice: "Give us that!" He considers the Ring a +moment. "A gigantic dragon I slew for the ring, and I am to part +with it in exchange for the paws of a worthless bear?" "Are you so +niggardly?... So higgling at a bargain?... You should be generous +to ladies!..." they shame him one after the other. With perfect +good humour, he offers as a better objection: "Were I to waste +my property on you, my wife, I suspect, would find fault." "She +is a shrew, no doubt?... I dare say she beats you.... The hero +has a presentiment of the weight of her hand!..." They laugh +immoderately. "Laugh away!" the hero laughs with them, but, not +to be compelled by their derision: "I shall none the less leave +you to disappointment, for the ring which you covet no teasing +shall get for you!" The wily maidens do not take this up, but, +turning from him, permit him to overhear the remarks about him +which they exchange among themselves: "So handsome! So strong!... +So fitted to inspire love!... What a pity that he is a miser!" +With shouts of laughter they duck under. + +Siegfried turns away, untroubled, and descends further into the +narrow valley. But their words have not quite glanced off him. +"Why do I suffer such a mean report of myself? Shall I lend myself +to gibes of the sort? If they should come again to the water's +edge, the ring they might have!" Too large to feel demeaned by an +inconsistency, he shouts to them: "Hey, you lively water-beauties! +Come quickly! I make you a gift of the ring!" Taking it off, he holds +it toward them. This is the point in his fortunes where we perceive +the working of Siegfried's fate. If the nymphs, as one would have +felt safe in counting upon their doing, had risen and caught the +Ring from him with a laugh louder than any before, all might have +been well. Hagen would have had nothing to gain by killing him. +But the curse which doomed the owner of the Ring to a bloody end +would not have it so. It had been crippled, it is true, against the +noble one; it had failed to make him suspicious, sad, and careful. +But his violent death we see provided for when, by what seems the +merest hazard, his offer of the Ring to the Rhine-maidens is not +accepted on the expected terms. The sisters rise to his call, but +instead of faces dancing with laughter they show him grave and +warning countenances. Their subaqueous deliberations have resulted +in a most ill-inspired change of tactics. Instead of snatching at +the proffered Ring and glad to have it, they represent to Siegfried +that he will be under an obligation to them for ridding him of it. +His mood of giving is changed by a threat into one of refusal. +"Keep it, hero, and guard it with care, until you become aware of +the evil fate you are cherishing under its shape. Then you will +be glad if we will deliver you from the curse!" He slips back the +Ring on his finger and bids them tell what they know. "Siegfried! +We know of evil threatening you! To your danger you retain the +Ring! Out of the Rhine-gold it was forged; he who shaped it and +miserably lost it, placed a curse upon it long ago, that it should +bring death upon him who wore it. As you slew the dragon, even +so shall you be slain, and this very day, of this we warn you, +unless you give us the Ring to bury in the deep Rhine; its water +alone can allay the curse!" "You artful ladies," the hero shakes +his head, "let be that policy! If I hardly trusted your flatteries, +your attempt to alarm me deceives me still less...." When more +impressively still they reiterate their warning, protesting their +truth, urging the irresistible strength of the curse woven by the +Norns into the coil of the eternal law, he answers, and the nature +against which the curse had so long been of no effect shows brightly +forth in the brief tirade: "My sword once cleft asunder a spear. +The eternal coil of the law, whatever wild curses they have woven +into it, the Norns shall see cut through by Nothung. A dragon once +upon a time did of a truth warn me of the curse, but he could not +teach me to fear! Though the whole world might be gained to me by +a ring, for love I would willingly cede it; you should have it +if you gave me delight. But if you threaten me in life and limb, +though the ring should not enclose the worth of a finger, not by +any force could you get it from me! For life and limb, if I must +live loveless and a slave to fear,--life and limb, look you, like +this I cast them far away from me!" He takes up and flings a clod +of earth over his shoulder. The Rhine-daughters in agitation press +him still for a moment with warnings; but, realising the futility +of these, with the prophecy: "A proud woman will this very day +inherit of you; she will lend a more heedful ear to our warning!" +they finally swim away, as they announce: "To her! To her! To her!" + +Their singing floats back, dying away, a long time after they have +taken their leave; Siefgried stands watching them out of sight, +amused: "In water as on land I have now learned the ways of women; +if a man resist their cajoling, they try threats with him; if he +boldly brave these, let him look for scorn and reproaches! And +yet--were it not for my truth to Gutrune, one of those dainty +water-women I should have liked to tame!" + +The horns of the hunting-party are heard approaching. Siegfried +shouts in answer to their shouts. When Hagen and Gunther come in +sight, he calls to them to join him down there where it is fresh +and cool. The company with their freight of game descend into the +shady gorge, to camp for an hour. The wine-skins and drink-horns +are passed. Siegfried, questioned by Hagen of his fortune at the +chase, jestingly gives his account: "I came forth for forest-hunting, +but water-game was all that presented itself. Had I had a mind +to it, three wild water-birds I might have caught for you, who +sang to me, there on the Rhine, that I should be slain to-day!" +Never had he spoken with a more unclouded brow. Gunther starts at +his words and glances apprehensively at Hagen. Siegfried stretches +out contentedly between them, the ample sunshine in his blood, +and remembers that he is thirsty. Hagen treats the evil prophecy +as lightly as does Siegfried himself. In not unnatural sequence +to Siegfried's reference to the water-birds, he remarks: "I have +heard it reported, Siegfried, that you understand the language of +the birds. Is it true?" "I have not heeded their babble this many +a day--" Siegfried is saying, when Gunther's heavy and preoccupied +mien is borne upon him; he breaks off to reach him his drink-horn, +cheerily rallying him: "Drink, Gunther, drink! Your brother brings +it to you!" Gunther, oppressed by his dark doubt of Siegfried, is +not prompt in accepting the proffered cup. His reply obscurely +conveys his sense of some failure in their good-fellowship. Siegfried +takes it up merely to turn into occasion for one of his cordial +laughs. "You over-cheerful hero!" sighs Gunther. Something is wrong, +Siegfried cannot fail to see. He drops privately to Hagen his +interpretation of the friend's gloom: "Bruennhilde is giving him +trouble?" "If he understood her as well as you understand the song +of the birds!" Siegfried has an inspiration. Those last words of +Hagen's contain the germ of it. "Hei! Gunther!" he calls to the +blood-brother, who appears so sorely in need of cheering: "You +melancholy fellow! If you will thank me for it, I will sing you +tales from the days of my youth!" + +Gunther's reply is politely encouraging. Hagen joins his invitation +to the half-brother's. The listeners place themselves at ease on +the ground about the narrator, seated in their midst on a mossy +stump. Then Siegfried, with his beautiful, bottomless zest in life, +recounts in vivid running sketches the story we know. One after +the other the familiar motifs pass in review. From them alone one +could reconstruct the tale. Of his childhood in Mime's cave, the +forging of Nothung, the slaying of the dragon. Of the wonder worked +by the drop of dragon's blood on the tongue, the little bird's good +counsel by which he won Tarnhelm and Ring, the same bird's warning +upon which he slew Mime. At this point, when we are wondering how, +with Bruennhilde wiped from his memory, he can proceed, Hagen hands +him a horn filled with wine, in which he has been seen expressing +the juice of an herb; this, the Nibelung's son, wise in the virtues +of simples, tells him, will sharpen his memory and bring close +remote events. + +Siegfried takes the cup, but for a moment does not taste it, absorbed, +as is evident, in the effort to remember what came right after the +point in his story at which he just broke off. The forgetfulness-motif +suggests his baffled groping. Mechanically he sets the horn to +his lips--a strain of the tenderest and most ecstatic of the +Siegfried-Bruennhilde love-music marks the first effect of the draught +which dissolves the mists obscuring memory,--followed close by +the whole slowly unwinding Bruennhilde-motif. We feel as if we had +suddenly, with Siegfried, waked from a bad dream. We take a trembling +breath of relief at the weight removed from our heart. + +A light of fixed joy grows and grows in Siegfried's face, as upon +this recovering of his true identity he takes up his story again: +"Wistfully I listened for the bird in the tree-tops. He sat there +still, and sang; 'Hei, Siegfried has slain the wicked dwarf! I +have in mind for him now the most glorious mate! On a high rock +she sleeps, a wall of flame surrounds her abode. If he should push +through the fire, if he should waken the bride, then were Bruennhilde +his own!'" Gunther hears in growing amazement. "Straightway, +unhesitating, I hastened forth. I reached the fire-girt rock. I +crossed the flaming barrier, and found in reward"--the memory holds +his breath suspended--a beautiful woman, asleep in a suit of gleaming +armour. I loosed the helmet from the glorious head; audaciously +with a kiss I waked the maid.... Oh, with what ardour did then +the arm of the lovely Bruennhilde enfold me!" + +Gunther springs up in horrified comprehension. Two ravens at this +moment make sudden interruption, flying out of a tree and wheeling +above Siegfried's head. He starts up, in natural interest at the +apparition of Wotan's messengers. "Can you understand, too, the +croaking of these ravens?" sneers Hagen. Siegfried, looking after +the black birds as they bend their flight Rhine-wards, turns his +back to the questioner. "They bid me take vengeance!" Hagen grimly +interprets for himself, and with a quick thrust drives his spear +through Siegfried's body, from the back. Too late Gunther holds +his arm and the retainers spring to prevent him. Siegfried's eyes +flash wildly about for a weapon. He snatches up his great shield +and lifts it aloft to crush the perfidious enemy,--but his strength +fails, the shield drops, and he falls crashing backwards upon it. + +"Hagen, what have you done?" comes accusingly from Gunther and +the men-of-arms, while a shudder runs through the assembly, and, +as one feels at the music's intimation, through the very heart +of nature. "Taken vengeance of perjury!" Hagen coldly replies, +and, turning from the group gathered around the dying hero, slowly +disappears in the gathering dusk. Gunther, seized with remorseful +anguish, bends over the wounded brother. Two of the company, aiding +his effort to rise, support him. It is clear at once that immediate +surroundings and recent events are blotted from his ken by the +brighter light of a remembered scene, filling the wide-open, +over-brilliant Waelsung-eyes. The music lets us into the secret +first of what it is--so absorbingly present to him in this last +hour: the moment marvellous among all in his existence, when he +had seen the sleeping Bruennhilde return to life. It is as if it +were all happening a second time, she having mysteriously since +that first awakening been again sunk into sleep, from which he +must now again recall her: "Bruennhilde, sacred bride... awake!... +Open your eyes.... Who sealed you again in sleep?... Who bound you +in joyless slumber? The Awakener is come. He kisses you awake.... +He rends the confining bands... whereupon breaks forth upon him +the light of Bruennhilde's smile!... Oh, that eye, henceforth to +close no more!... Oh, the happy heaving of that breath!... Sweetest +languor, blissful darkness.... Bruennhilde welcomes me to her!..." + +So he dies as he had lived, joyous and unafraid, the curse, while +having its way with him to the extent of securing his destruction, +crippled as ever before, when the death by which it would punish +is embraced like a bride. + +For a long moment all stand motionless and heavily silent. It really +seems impossible that a spear-thrust could extinguish that +glowing,--that superabundant,--that splendid life. Night deepens. +At a sign from Gunther, the men lift the dead, laid upon his shield, +to their shoulders, and in solemn procession start upon the rocky +path homeward. + +What is called Siegfried's funeral-march is, as it were, a funeral +oration spoken over him by a great voice, of one penetrated with +the sense of what he was and of earth's loss in him. "Listen! Listen +and shudder, all created things, and feel the shock, and measure +the magnitude, of your loss! Behold, he was brave among all heroes, +this Waelsung,--yet tender, too. He was the child of the love of two +beautiful, unhappy beings, and, a glory to them, he became--Siegfried, +the most exalted hero of the world! Mourn for him heroically, not +with tears, but battle-shouts, in keeping with his greatness!" + +The moon breaks through the clouds and showers spectral light upon +the funeral train slowly moving up the hillside. Night-mists rise +from the Rhine and gradually blot out the scene. + +When the mists disperse we find ourselves once more in the Hall +of the Gibichungen, where Gutrune, troubled by the tardiness of +the hunters in returning, strains her hearing for Siegfried's horn. +Bad dreams have disturbed her sleep, and the wild neighing of Grane, +and the sound of Bruennhilde laughing in the solitary night. "I +fear Bruennhilde!" she confesses to herself. Yet, in need of +companionship in her anxiety, she calls at the sister-in-law's +door; receiving no answer, she looks in. The room is empty. It +must have been Bruennhilde, then, whom she saw striding down to the +bank of the Rhine, unable, like herself, to sleep. + +Hearing a stir, she again listens intently for Siegfried's horn. +Not that, but Hagen's lugubrious Hoiho! comes to her ear: "Hoiho! +Awake! Lights! Bright torches! We bring home spoils of the chase!" +He appears in advance of the party thus announced. "Up, Gutrune! +Welcome Siegfried, the strong hero returning home!" She is +frightened--the fact is to her so significant of not having heard +his horn. As the confused train accompanying the slain hero pours +into the hall, Hagen's exultation can no longer contain itself, +and, negligent of all suitable appearance of concern for Gutrune's +sorrow, he announces the death of her beloved with all the gloating +glee he feels: "The pallid hero, no more shall he blow the horn, +no more storm forth either to chase or to battle, nor sue ever +more for fair women!" They bring in the body, they set down the +bier. "The victim of a wild boar, Siegfried, your dead lord!" With +a shriek Gutrune falls fainting upon the inanimate form. Gunther +tries to comfort her, clearing himself, accusing Hagen: "He is +the accursed boar who slew the noble one!" "Yes, I killed him!" +boldly boasts Hagen, so near the attainment of his object that +he is careless of all else; "I, Hagen, struck him dead! He was +reserved for my spear, by which he swore his false oath. I have +earned the sacred right to his spoils, wherefore--I demand that +Ring!" "Back!" shouts Gunther, as Hagen approaches to take it. +"What belongs to me, you shall never touch! Dare you lay hands on +Gutrune's inheritance?" But Hagen, in his new mood, is quick of +his hands as earlier of his wits. He draws his sword and without +further parley attacks Gunther. The fight is short, Gunther falls. +He had been the claimant of the Ring but a few hours. Hagen hurries +to the bier to snatch his prey from Siegfried's finger. The dead +hand is slowly raised... and threateningly warns off the robber. +Hagen drops back. + +In the stillness of horror which succeeds the loud outcry of the +women at the portent, a solemn figure parts the crowd and strides +slowly forward--Bruennhilde, to whom the passing hours have restored +calm, and to whom meditation has brought light. + +She knows now what she should think, and what there remains to do. + +Gutrune, hearing her voice, raises her own to accuse her of all +this woe overtaking them: "You--you incited the men against him--woe +that you should ever have entered this house!" "Hush! pitiable +girl!" Bruennhilde checks her, without anger. "You never were his +wedded wife; as his paramour you ensnared his affections. The mate +of his manhood am I, to whom he vowed eternal vows, before ever +he saw you!" Gutrune upon this, apprehending all, curses Hagen +who had given her the evil drink through which Siegfried had been +made to forget his former love. + +A long space Bruennhilde stands in contemplation of Siegfried's +face, gazing with changing emotions, from passionate sorrow to +solemn exultation. She turns at length to the vassals and commands +them to build a great funeral pile. High and bright let the flames +leap which shall devour the noble body. Let them bring Grane, that +he with herself may follow the hero, whose honours her own body +yearns to share. While they are fulfilling her wish, she falls once +more into rapt study of the dead face, her own face becoming gentler +and gentler, as clearer and clearer understanding comes to her of +him and all that had happened. Her features appear softly glorified +at last with the light of forgiveness and reconcilement--and she +speaks his praise and justification: "Clear as the sun his light +shines upon me. He was the truest of all, this one who betrayed +me!" As an instance of his truth she quotes the incident of the +sword, placed, in loyalty to his friend, between himself and his own +beloved, "alone dear to him." "Vows more true than his were never +vowed by any; no one more faithfully than he observed a covenant; no +other ever loved with a love so unalloyed; and yet all vows, all +covenants, all obligations of love, were betrayed by him as never +by man before! Do you know how this came to be?..." The dealing with +her of Wotan she recognises in these extreme calamities falling +upon her; she must suffer all this to be brought, blind one, to a +comprehension of that which was demanded of her, which she had so +haughtily refused to consider when Waltraute pleaded for the gods. +She bows now under his heavy hand, but not without reproach and +arraignment: "Oh you, holy guardians of vows! Turn your eyes upon +my broad-blown woe: behold your eternal guilt! Hear my accusation, +most high god! Through his bravest action, desired by you and of +use to you, you devoted him who performed it to dark powers of +destruction...." (The old story of the Ring!) "By the truest of +all men born must I be betrayed, that a woman might grow wise!... +And have I understood at last what it is you want of me?... Aye, +of everything, of everything, everything, I have understanding! +All has in this hour become clear to me.... I hear the rustling, +too, of your ravens: with the message so fearfully yearned for +I send them both home.... Be at rest, be at rest, you god!" The +tone of these last words is that of the old Bruennhilde once more, +the tender daughter pitying her father's sorrows. Yes, let him be +at rest, for the Ring shall go back to the Rhine, to obtain which +result her dearest happiness has been sacrificed. She takes it from +Siegfried's finger, and places it--Siegfried's love-token, not to +be yielded up while she lives--upon her own. The Rhine-daughters, +when the funeral pile has burned to the ground, shall take it from +her ashes. She has had conversation in the night with the wise +sisters of the deep; no fear but that they will be at hand. + +And is that what will be Bruennhilde's prophesied world-delivering +act? Restoring the Ring to the Rhine, thus saving the world definitely +from Alberich and the army of the night? Or can we suppose it to +be the act which she accomplishes in the same stroke,--the act of +plunging into their twilight the whole tribe of the tired unjust +gods, so long now tremulously awaiting their end? Or, is the latter +act Bruennhilde's supreme vengeance? Or,--this seems more likely,--an +act of supreme benevolence, the result of at last understanding +"everything, everything, everything!"? + +The funeral pile decked with precious covers and flowers stands +ready, Siegfried's body upon it. Bruennhilde seizes a torch from +one of the attendants: "Fly home, you ravens, report to your master +what you have heard here by the shore of the Rhine! Pass, on your +way, near to Bruennhilde's rock: direct Loge, who is still smouldering +there, to Walhalla. For the dawn is now breaking of the end of the +gods! Thus do I hurl a burning brand into Walhalla's flaunting +citadel!" She sets fire with these words to the pyre, which rapidly +blazes up. Wotan's ravens are seen slowly flapping off toward the +horizon. Bruennhilde takes Grane from the young men holding him, +and, with all the joy now again in her voice, face, and words, +which illuminated the moment of her first union, long ago, with the +then so youthful and ingenuous Awakener, she rushes to be reunited +to him in death, springing with her jubilant Valkyrie-cry upon +Grane and with him plunging into the flames. + +The fire flares doubly brilliant and high; the red glare of it +fills the whole scene. It becomes evident suddenly that the Hall of +the Gibichungen is burning. The people huddle together in terror. +When the funeral pile sinks to a heap, the Rhine is seen flooding in +upon the embers. Hagen, eagerly on the watch for his last chance, +beholds with the insanity of despair the Rhine-daughters rise from +the waves close beside the site of the pyre. Hurling from him shield +and spear, he dashes into the water to thrust them back. "Away +from the Ring!" Two of the jocose sisters for all reply entwine +their arms around his neck and draw him away and away with them +into the deep water. The third triumphantly holds up before his +eyes the recovered Ring. + +As the fire dies among the blackened ruins of the Hall, and the +Rhine recedes into its boundaries, a red light breaks in the sky. +More and more brightly it glows, till Walhalla is discerned in its +central illumination, with its enthroned gods and heroes. Flames +are seen invading the stately hall. When the company of the Blessed +are completely wrapped in fire, the curtain falls. + +The last word of the music is the exultant phrase by which Sieglinde +greeted the prophecy of Siegfried's birth. It has been woven all +through Bruennhilde's last ardently happy salutation to him, as +if in recognition of some mystical quality--in death--of birth. + + +So Wotan finds his rest, and the ill consequences at last end of +his unjust act--end with the reparation of the injustice, the return +of the gold to the Rhine. But has not the evil act been like the +Djinn of old, let out of the insignificant-looking urn, waxing +great, looming dark, and dictating hard terms! When Wotan in pride +of being committed it, against two simpletons, how could he have +divined that by this pin-point he set inexorable machinery moving +which should bring about his confusion, forcing him in its progress +to so many injustices more, injustices which his soul would loathe, +which would blight his best beloved, which would by far be his +greatest punishment!... The Trilogy is moral as a tract. + + +THE MASTER-SINGERS OF NUREMBERG + + +THE MASTER-SINGERS OF NUREMBERG + +I + +The "argument of The Master-singers" is effectually given in the +Overture: Art and Love. The Masters are first--a little pompously, +as befits their pretensions,--presented to us. Then Young Love +sweeps across the scene, delicate musical gale. The themes of the +two then mingle, foreshadowing how the affairs of Walther shall +become entangled with those of the Guild. + +This Walther von Stolzing, a young Franconian noble, last of his +line, had for reasons which are not given forsaken the ancestral +castle and come to Nuremberg in the intention of becoming a citizen +there. He had brought letters to a prominent burgher of the town, +Veit Pogner, the rich goldsmith, long acquainted with his family, and +known to it, by reputation. Pogner had offered him every courtesy, +hospitality, and assistance in the business of selling his Franconian +lands. + +Walther had found twenty-four hours in Nuremberg and Pogner's house +ample time to fall deeply, transcendingly, rapturously, in love +with the goldsmith's daughter. She is very young, very feminine, +even in the respect of being little rather than large, so that she +is always called, fondly, Evchen, little Eva. Her name is perhaps +meant to indicate her quality of inveterate femineity. The whole +story goes to show that she was pretty enough to turn heads young +and old. She had been an obedient, an exemplary daughter, up to +the hour of meeting Walther, allowing her father to think for her, +accepting demurely his views for her. How should she not feel it +best, so long as her immature heart had never spoken a word, to +let a most kind and indulgent parent, whose wisdom it was not for +her to question, dispose of her hand in the manner he thought most +fitting? When she had seen Walther, however, a new light illumined +her position. + +On the second day of his acquaintance with her, it seemed to the +young lord that he could not live through another night but he made +sure of one point. He followed his lady to vespers, in the hope of +an opportunity to exchange one private word, ask one question. It was +the eve of Saint John's day. The congregation when the curtain rises +is concluding an anthem to the "noble Baptist." Eva and Magdalene, +her nurse, are in one of the pews that fill the nave of the church. +Walther stands in the aisle, leaning against a pillar, from which +position he can watch the fair one. He tries whenever her eyes +stray his way, as, irresistibly attracted, they frequently do, +to convey to her by glance and gesture his prayer for a moment's +interview. Magdalene feels herself repeatedly obliged to recall +her young lady's attention to the church-service. The congregation +rises at last and flocks to the church-door. Walther steps before +the two women as they are passing forth with the rest, with the +hurried demand to Eva for a word, a single word. Magdalene, who is +a step behind, has not caught his request. Eva with quick resource +sends her back to the pew for her forgotten kerchief. But Walther +has become alarmed at his own boldness, and instead of utilising +his opportunity to utter or obtain that "single word," falls to +pouring forth many disconnected words by way of leading up to the +all-important question. He has not contrived to get it out before +Magdalene returns. But Eva then discovers that her brooch too has +been left in the pew. Walther, because he really dreads to hear +an answer which may dash his dearest hopes, makes no better use +of this second chance than of the first; he is still leading up +to his famous question when Magdalene brings the brooch. But upon +this fortune favours him, Magdalene must run back to the pew for +her forgotten prayer-book; and in the brief interval of her search +Walther asks breathlessly of Eva: if she be already betrothed! She +does not reply by the instantaneous negative he had hoped for, and +the passionate wish breaks from his lips that he had never crossed +the threshold of her father's house! Magdalene, who has rejoined +them, bridles indignantly at such an expression from him. "How now, +my lord, what is this you say? Scarce arrived in Nuremberg, were +you not hospitably received? Is not the best afforded by kitchen and +cellar, cupboard and store-room, deserving of any gratitude whatever?" +Eva tries to silence her: "That is not what he meant, good Lene. +But... this information he desires of me--How am I to say it? I +hardly myself understand! I feel as if I were dreaming--He wishes +to know whether I am already betrothed?" Lene at this recognises, of +course, that here is that reprobate thing, a lover, and remembers +her first duty as a duenna, to keep off all such from her young +charge. She is for hurrying home at once. Walther resolutely detains +her. "Not till I know all!"--"The church is empty, every one is +gone!" Eva gives as a reason for not being so punctilious. Lene +sees in the very loneliness of the place a reason the more for +departing with all speed,--but Fate again helps Walther. David, +a youthful shoe-maker's apprentice, enters the church from the +vestry, and falls to making mysterious preparations, drawing curtains +which shut off the nave of the church, measuring distances on the +pavement with a yard-rule. No sooner has Magdalene caught sight of +him than she becomes absent-minded, and when Eva urges, "What am +I to tell him? Do you tell me what I am to say!" more good-humoured +than before, she vouchsafes: "Your lordship, the question you ask of +the damsel is not so easy to answer. As a matter of truth, Evchen +Pogner is betrothed----" "But no one," quickly adds the girl, "has as +yet see the bridegroom!" He gathers from the two that the bridegroom +shall be the victor on the following day in a song-contest, the +master-singer to whom the other master-singers award the prize, +and whom the bride herself crowns. It all falls strangely on the +ears of one not a Nuremberger. "The master-singer?..." he falters. +"Are you not one?" Eva asks incredulously, wistfully. And when in his +effort to grasp the situation exactly he continues asking questions, +she answers his interrogative: "The bride then chooses?..." with +complete forgetfulness of every maidenly convention, by an ardent, +honest "You, or no one!"--"Are you gone mad?" Magdalene grasps her +arm, shocked and flustered. She has, and feels no shame. "Good +Lene, help me to win him!"--"But you saw him yesterday for the first +time!" No, she became a victim so readily to love's torment, Eva +tells Lene, because she had long known him in a picture, Albrecht +Duerer's painting of David, after the slaying of Goliath, his sword +at his belt, his sling in his hand, his head brightly encircled +with fair curls. + +Joyful agitation has seized the Knight at Eva's sweet impulsive +word, and, with it, bewilderment as to what must be his course in +circumstances so unprecedented. He restlessly paces the pavement, +trying to determine how he shall deal with the strange conditions +raising their barrier between him and the object of his desire. +Magdalene calls to her the object of hers. The middle-aged spinster +has a weak spot in her heart for David. The boyish shoe-maker's +apprentice on his side adores her--and the pleasant bits she maternally +smuggles to him from Pogner's kitchen. Questioned, he informs her +that he is making the place ready for the master-singers. There is +to be directly a song-trial: such song-apprentices as commit no +offence against the table of rules are to be promoted to mastership. +Here would be the Knight's chance, reflects Lene,--his one chance +to be made master before the fateful morrow. When, as they are +leaving, Walther offers the ladies his company to Master Pognet's, +she bids him wait rather for Pogner where he stands: if he wishes +to enter the contest for Evchen's hand, Fortune has favoured him +with respect to time and place. "What am I to do?" asks the lover +eagerly. David shall instruct him, and Magdalene herself instructs +David to make himself useful to the Knight. "Something choice from +the kitchen I will save for you. And if the young lord here shall +to-day be made a master, you may to-morrow proffer your requests +full boldly!" + +"Shall I see you again?" Eva shyly asks of Walther, as Magdalene is +hurrying her off. His answer gives the keynote of him, characteristic +outburst that it is of his vital, vigourous, enthusiastic youth, +to which all things seem possible--beautiful youth, which has the +splendour and force of fire, with the freshness of flowers; which +flashes like a sword and trembles like a lute-string. "Shall I +see you again?" It is after vespers. "This evening, surely!" he +replies: "How shall I tell you what I would be willing to undertake +for your sake? New is my heart, new is my mind, new to me is all +this which I am entering upon. One thing only I know, one thing +only I grasp, that I will devote soul and senses to winning you! +If it may not be with the sword, I must achieve it with song, and +as a master sing you mine! For you, my blood and my possessions, +for you, the sacred aspiration of a poet!" Strains from this sweet +and proud profession are scattered all through the story, they +are the Walther-motifs, heard in his first sigh as he watches her +from the shadow of the church-pillar, and woven finally into his +prize-song. And the effect of youth that goes magically with them! +The fragrance that belongs to them, with the fire! As of green +things in early May, wet with the dew of dawn,--the beams of the +rising sun kindling all to a softly-dazzling glory. The hearer +feels himself young too with an immortal youth.... But words are +never so ineffectual as when they would translate music. + +When Walther and Eva part, they are candidly lovers, for she has +joined her voice to his at the closing words of his profession, and +herself warmly professed: "My heart with its blessed ardour,--for +you, its love-consecrated kindness!" In a moment the women are +gone. Walther casts himself in a great high-backed carved seat +which apprentices have a moment before placed in the conspicuous +position it occupies, and is absorbed in the attempt to collect +himself, deal with his swarming emotions, order his wild thoughts, +scheme what to do. The excited blood in his veins sings the song +of his youth. + +Apprentices in number, lively and mischievous imps, have entered and +are setting the place aright for the meeting of the master-singers, +placing seats for these on one side and forms for themselves on the +opposite side, arranging near the centre a platform and blackboard +enclosed by curtains. David stands studying that original who supposes +one can be made a master in an hour. The gentleman's rank and fine +feathers do not impress the youth, who feels himself rather, with +respect to the requirements of the hour, in a position to patronise. +Walther is startled to hear him suddenly shout: "Begin!" "What is +the matter?" he inquires, waking out of his dream. "Begin! That is +what the Marker calls out, and then you must sing. Don't you know +that?"--"Who is the Marker?"--"Don't you know? Have you never been +to a song-trial?"--"Never, where the judges were artisans."--"Are +you a poet?"--"Would that I were!"--"Are you a singer?"--"Would that +I knew!"--"But you have at least been a 'school-frequenter' and +a 'pupil?'"--"It all sounds foreign to my ear!"--"And you wish to +become a master, off-hand, like that?"--"What enormous difficulty +does the matter present?"--David groans: "Oh, Lene, Lene... oh, +Magdalene!"--"What a to-do you make! Come, tell me, in good faith, +what I must do!" David has now the chance he loves. Here is one +who knows nothing whatever of the things it is his pride to have +learned at least the names of, the things to a Nuremberger worth +knowing among all. The ignoramus shall be properly dazzled. David +strikes an attitude. "Myself," he informs Walther, "I am learning +the Art from the greatest master in Nuremberg, Hans Sachs. For a +full year I have received his instructions. Shoe-making and poetry +I learn simultaneously. When I have pounded the leather even and +smooth, I learn of vowel-sounds and of consonance. When I have +waxed the thread hard and stiff, I apply myself to the rules of +rhyme. While punching holes and driving the awl, I commit the science +of rhythm and number...." And so forth. For a full year he has +been learning, and how far does Walther suppose he has got? The +Knight suggests, laughing: "To the making of a right good pair +of shoes!" Nay, this top-lofty aristocrat, with his jokes, does +not in the least understand! And David enlarges further on the +great and various difficulties in the way of him who aspires to +become a master-singer. A "bar," let him know, has manifold parts +and divisions, full difficult to master the law thereof!... And +then comes the "after-song," which must not be too short, nor yet +too long, and must contain no rhyme already used in the foregoing +stanzas. But even when a person has learned and knows all this, +even then he is not yet called a master. For there are a thousand +subtleties and refinements the aspirant must still make his own. +Whether David in showing off draws a bit upon his fancy, or whether +the master-singers really cherished these distinctions in mode and +tone, one can but wonder. Suggestive the titles of them certainly +are. Glibly, grandly, and with a rich relish, David tells them off: +The fool's-cap, the black-ink mode; the red, blue and green tones; +the hawthorn-blossom, straw-wisp, fennel modes; the tender, the sweet, +the rose-coloured tone; the short-lived love, the deserted-lover +tones; the rosemary, the golden lupine, the rainbow, the nightingale +modes; the English tin, the stick-cinnamon modes; the fresh orange, +green linden-blossom modes; the frogs', the calves', the goldfinch +modes; the mode--save the mark!--of the secret gormandiser; the +lark, the snail tones; the barking tone; the balsam, the marjoram +modes; the tawny lion-fell, the faithful pelican modes; the respendent +gold-galloon mode! Walther cries out to Heaven for help. "Those," +proceeds David, "are only the names! Now learn to sing them exactly +as the masters have established, every word and tone sounding clearly, +the voice rising and falling as it should...." etc., etc., etc.; +"but if, when you have done all these things correctly, you should +make a mistake, or in any wise stumble and flounder, whatever your +success up to that moment, you would have failed in the song-trial! +In spite of great diligence and application, myself I have not +brought it to that point. Let me be an example to you, and drop +this folly of seeking to be made a master!" + +Walther, persisting in inquiry, conquers the information at last +that in order to be named a master a man must compose an original +poem and fit it to an original air, in accordance with the many +laws laid down by his judges. "All there is for me to do then," +concludes the lover, nothing discouraged, "is to aim directly at +mastership. If I am to sing successfully, I must find, to verses of +my own, a melody of my own!" David, who has joined the apprentices, +fends off their teasing by privately preparing them for rich diversion +presently at the song-trial. "Not I to-day, another fellow is up +for trial! He has not been a 'pupil' and is not a 'singer'; the +formality of earning the title of 'poet' he says he will omit; +for he is a gentleman of quality, and expects, with one leap and +no further difficulty, this very day to become a master. Wherefore +arrange carefully the Marker's cabinet; the blackboard on the wall, +convenient to the Marker's hand.... The Marker, yes!" he repeats +bodingly to the not sufficiently impressed knight. "Are you not +afraid? Many a candidate already, singing before him, has met with +failure. He allows you seven errors; he marks them there with chalk; +whoever makes more than seven errors has completely and conclusively +failed!" The apprentices in their glee over the prospective +entertainment join hands and dance in a ring around the curtained +recess where the Marker shortly shall be chronicling the slips +and blunders of this self-confident lordling. + +Their play is interrupted, and they hurriedly put on good behaviour, +at the entrance of two of the masters, Pogner and Sixtus Beckmesser, +the town-clerk. The change in the music is definite as a change +of air and scene, is like passing from the hubbub of the street +into some calm and pleasant precinct. Beckmesser is importuning +Pogner with regard to his intentions for the morrow. Beckmesser +wishes extremely to become his son-in-law, wherefore he thinks it +would be best to give the young lady no choice, to decree simply +and finally that the winner of the prize for song should be her +husband. He feels cocksure of his superiority as a master-singer, +but dubious, it would seem, of his power to enthrall the fancy of +a young girl. "If Evchen's voice can strike out the candidate, +of what use to me is my supremacy as a master?"--"Come," replies +Pogner sensibly, "if you have no hopes of the daughter's regard, +how do you come to enter the lists as her suitor?" Beckmesser, +after this check, cannot, of course, urge anything further in the +same direction. He begs for Pogner's influence with his child, and +turns away disgusted with the goldsmith's merely civil assent. +It seems to him that a man like Pogner ought to know as well as +he knows that women have no real taste, that they are capable of +preferring the sorriest stuff to all the poetry in the world. How +shall he, Beckmesser, avoid a disappointment, a public defeat? He +decides upon reflection to try the prize-song he has prepared, +as a serenade, and make sure beforehand that the maiden will be +pleased with it. + +Walther has approached and exchanged greetings with Pogner. He +comes directly to the point, and, with airy aplomb, "If truth must +be told," he says, "the thing which drove me from home and brought +me to Nuremberg was the love of Art, nothing else! I forgot to +tell you this yesterday--but to-day I proclaim it aloud. It is +my desire to become a master-singer. Receive me, master, in the +guild!" + +The masters are flocking in, bakers, tailors, coppersmiths, grocers, +weavers. Pogner turns to them, delighted. "Hear, what a very interesting +case. The knight here, my friend, is desirous of dedicating himself +to our Art. It seems like the olden days come back!--You can hardly +think," to Walther, "how glad I am! As willingly indeed as ever I +lent you my assistance to sell your land, I will receive you in +the guild!"--"What man is that?" Beckmesser almost barks, catching +sight of Walther. Suspiciously he observes him: "I do not like +him.... What is he doing here? How his eyes beam with laughter!... +Look sharp, Sixtus, keep an eye on that fellow!" + +"And may I hope," asks Walther of Pogner, "to have this very day +an opportunity to undergo trial and be elected master?"--"Oho!" +soliloquises Beckmesser, with a shock of surprise at audacity such +as this, "on that head stands no skittle!" There is no moss growing +on him! Pogner is no doubt surprised too, but answers kindly: "The +matter must be conducted according to rule. To-day, however, as +it happens, is song-trial. I will propose you. The masters lend +a favourable ear to requests of mine." + +The masters are assembled; last of all has entered Hans Sachs, the +shoe-maker,--dear, benignantly-gazing Hans Sachs. "Are we all here?" +asks one of the members. "Sachs is here! What more is necessary?" +sneers Beckmesser. + +Fritz Kothner, the baker, in the capacity of speaker, calls the +roll. As the meeting is about to pass to the business of the day, +Pogner asks for the floor, and unfolds before the assembled guild +his romantic scheme: The following is Saint John's day, when it +is customary for the master-singers to hold a song-contest out +in the open, among the people, the victorious singer receiving a +prize. "Now I, by God's grace, am a rich man, and every one should +give according to his means. I cast about therefore for a gift +to give not unworthy of me. Hear what I determined upon. In my +extensive travels over Germany, I have often been chagrined to +find that the burgher is held cheap, is thought close-fisted and +mean-minded. Among high and low alike, I heard the bitter reproach, +till I was soul-sick of it,--that the burgher has no aim or object +above commerce and the getting of money. That we alone in the whole +kingdom of Germany are the guardians and preservers of art, they +take into no account. To what point we place our honour in that, +with what a lofty spirit we cherish the good and beautiful, how +highly we prize art and its influence, I wished therefore to show +the world. So hear, Masters, the gift which I have appointed for +prize: To the singer who in the song-contest shall before all the +people win the prize on Saint John's day, let him be who he may, +I give, devotee of art that I am, Veit Pogner of Nuremberg, with +my whole inheritance, even as it stands, Eva, my only child, in +marriage!" + +Loud applause. "There is a man for you!... There is talk of the +right sort!... There one sees what a Nuremberger is capable of!... +Who would not wish to be a bachelor?..." "I dare say that some," +suggests Sachs, "would not mind giving away their wives!" + +But there is a postscript to Pogner's address which qualifies the +aspect of the whole: The maiden shall have the right to reject +the masters' choice. That is what has from the first bothered +Beckmesser, in Pogner's counsel before this making public of his +idea. The general mood is changed by this revelation. "Does it +strike you as judicious?" Beckmesser privately consults Kothner; +"Dangerous I call it!"--"Do I understand aright," asks Kothner; +"that we are placed in the hands of the young lady? If the +master-singers' verdict then does not agree with hers, how is it +to operate?"--"Let the young lady choose at once according to the +inclination of her heart, and leave master-singing out of the game!" +remarks Beckmesser tartly. "Not at all! Not at all!" Pogner strives +to calm them, "Not in the very least! You have imperfectly understood. +The maiden may refuse the one to whom you master-singers award the +prize, but she may not choose another. A master-singer he must +be. Only one crowned by yourselves may become a suitor for her." +The arrangement does seem, closely considered, rather hard on the +young lady, and one fancies more than once, in the course of the +play, a shade of sheepishness in the father's own attitude toward +it,--momentary ripples of misgiving. + +A voice of beautiful, calm, corrective sanity is now raised in +the assembly. "Your pardon!" speaks Sachs to Pogner, "you have +perhaps already gone somewhat far. The heart of a young girl and +the heart aglow for master-art do not always burn with an identical +flame. Feminine judgment, untutored as it is, would seem to me +on a level with popular judgment. If therefore you have in mind +to show the people how highly you honour art, and if, leaving to +your daughter the right of choice, you wish her not to repudiate +the verdict, let the people be among the judges, for the people's +taste is sure to coincide with the girl's." + +Indignation upon this among the masters. "The people?... That were +fine! As well say good-bye, once for all, to art!... Sachs, what +you say is nonsense.... Are the rules of art to be set aside for +the people?"--"Understand me aright!" Sachs meets them; "How you +take on! You will own that I know the rules thoroughly. For many a +year I have been at pains to keep the guild to a strict observation +of them. But once a year it would seem to me wise to test the rules +themselves, and see whether in the easy grooves of habit their +strength and vitality have not been lost. And whether you are still +upon the right track of nature you can only find out from such +as know nothing of tabulated rules!" (The apprentices, who here +represent the people, and have no great love for the _Tabulatur_, +give evidence of joy.) "Wherefore it would seem to me expedient that +yearly, at Saint John's feast, instead of permitting the people to +come to you, you should descend out of your lofty mastership-cloud, +and yourselves go to the people. You wish to please the people. It +would strike me as to the point to let the people tell you itself +whether you succeed in pleasing it. You would thus secure a vital +advantage, both for the people and for art. There you have Hans +Sachs's opinion!" + +No one agrees with him, of course. "You no doubt mean well, but +it would be a mistake.... If the people is to have a voice, I, +for one, shall keep my mouth shut.... If art is to run after the +favour of the people, it cannot fail to come to grief and +contempt."--"His success would be enormous, no doubt, who urges +this matter so stiffly," Beckmesser puts in spitefully; "His +compositions are nearly all popular street-songs!" + +Pogner sets Sachs's suggestion aside with perfect civility and good +humour. "The thing I am about to do is novel already. Too much novelty +at one time might bring in its wake regret...."--"Sufficient to me," +Sachs yields the point, "is the maiden's right of refusal!"--"That +cobbler always excites my wrath!" mutters Beckmesser. + +They pass to the order of the day. "Who enters the lists as a candidate? +A bachelor he must be."--"Or perhaps a widower?" offers Beckmesser; +"Ask Sachs!"--"Oh, no, master Beckmesser," Sachs retorts; "Of younger +wax than either you or I must the suitor be, if Evchen is to bestow +the prize on him!"--"Younger than I, too?... Coarse fellow!" + +At the question whether any be on the spot who wish to take the +song-trial, Pogner presents Walther von Stolzing, as one desirous +of being that same day elected master-singer. The motif of Wather's +presentation gives a clear idea of the knight's charming appearance, +his grace, his elastic step, his hat and feathers, the delicate +haughtiness of his bearing, in keeping with his proud name. + +A black suspicion enters Beckmesser's breast at sight of him: he is +the card which Pogner has all along had up his sleeve. The town-clerk +declares promptly that it is too late now to enter the new-comer. The +masters exchange glances: "Anoble?... Is it a case for rejoicing? +Or is there danger in it?... The fact that Master Pogner speaks for +him has its weight, certainly..."--"If he is to be welcomed among +us," says Kothner, somewhat forbiddingly, "he must show proper +recommendations."--"Do not mistake me," Pogner hastens to say; +"Though I wish him good fortune, I have no thought of waiving any +rule. Put to him, gentlemen, the customary questions." At the very +first question, however, whether he be free and honourably born, +Pogner hurriedly prevents Walther's answer by his own, making himself +voucher for him in every respect such as that. The generous Sachs, +feeling the something grudging in the attitude of the masters, reminds +them that it had long been one of the rules made by themselves that +an applicant being a lord or a peasant should have no significance, +that inquiry concerning art alone should be made of one desiring to +become a master-singer. Kothner passes thereupon to the question: +"Of what master are you a disciple?" And then is born into the world +a new, a ravishing melody--which has all the delight in it that +can be compressed into the space. Airily, confidently, debonairly, +Walther delivers himself, in the sweet ingenuousness of his heart, +"new," as he had said, ignorant as yet of the jealous world's ways: +"Beside my quiet hearth in winter-time, when castle and court were +buried in snow, in an ancient book, bequeathed to me by my fathers, +I was wont to read recorded the engaging beauties of past Springs, +as well as, prophesied, the beauties of the Spring soon to reawaken. +The poet, Walther von der Vogelweid, he it is who has been my master!" +Sachs has listened with a surprised, charmed sympathy. He nods +beamingly: "A good master!"--"But long dead!" snaps Beckmesser; +"How could he learn the canons from him?" + +Kothner proceeds without comment to the next question: "In what +school did you learn to sing?"--"Then when the sward was free from +frost, and summer-time was come back, all that in the long +winter-evenings I had read in the old book was proclaimed aloud +in the luxuriance of the forest. I caught the clear sound of it +there. In the forest where the birds congregate, I learned likewise +to sing!"--"Ho, ho, from finches and tomtits you acquired the art +of master-singing?" Beckmesser jeers; "Your song no doubt smacks +of its teachers!"--"What do you think, masters," inquires Kothner, +upon this hopeless revelation, "shall I proceed with the questions? +It strikes me his lordship's answers are altogether wide of the +mark."--"That is what will presently be seen," Sachs interposes +warmly; "If his art is of the right sort, and he duly proves it, of +what consequence is it from whom he learned it?" Whereupon Kothner +proceeds, addressing Walther: "Are you prepared, now, at once, +to attempt an original master-song, new in conception, original +both in text and tune?" Walther answers unhesitatingly: "All that +winter-night and forest-splendour, that book and grove have taught +me; all that the magic of poetry has secretly revealed to me; all +that I have gathered, a thoughtful listener, from ride to battle +or from dance in gay assembly,--all this, in the present hour, +when the highest prize of life may be purchased by a song, is what +must necessarily flow into my song, original in word and note,--is +what must be outpoured before you, masters, if I succeed, as a +master-song!" + +"Did you gather anything from that torrent of words?" Beckmesser +asks, with his eyebrows up among his hair, of his fellow-masters. +"Now, masters, if you please," Kothner directs, "let the Marker +take his seat. Does his lordship," to Walther, "choose a sacred +subject?" "One that is sacred to me!" the young man answers +magnificently; "The banner of Love I swing and I sing--and cherish +good hope!" "That," considers Kothner, without a gleam, "comes +under the head of secular subject. And now, Master Beckmesser, +pray shut yourself in!" With a thin pose of reluctance, Beckmesser +takes his way toward the curtained cabinet. "A sour office--and +to-day especially. The chalk, I surmise, will be troublesomely in +requisition. Know, Sir Knight, Sixtus Beckmesser is the Marker. +Here in the cabinet he attends to his stern duty. He allows you +seven errors. He marks them down in there with chalk. If you make +over seven errors, Sir Knight, you have failed in the song-trial. +Keen is the Marker's ear; that the sight of him therefore may not +disconcert you, he relieves you of his presence and considerately +shuts himself up in there--God have you in his keeping!" He has +climbed upon the platform; he sharply draws the curtains. + +Two apprentices take down from the wall and bring forward the _Leges +Tabulaturoe_. With pomp and flourish Kothner reads them off to Walther. +The "tabulature" gives the straight and narrow laws upon which +a song must be constructed, to earn its singer the dignity of +mastership. "Now take your seat in the singing-chair!" Kothner +orders Walther at the close of his reading. "Here, in this chair?" +It is the tall carved chair in which he had cast himself earlier. +"As is the custom of the school!" Even so much of restraint as +the obligation to sing on a given spot is repugnant to the spirit +of the highborn youth, who yet is undertaking to satisfy the most +law-ridden assemblage he could have met with. He murmurs, taking +the seat: "For your sake, beloved, it shall be done!"--"The singer +sits!" announces Kothner. "Begin!" shouts Beckmesser out of sight. + +From Beckmesser's cry "Begin!" Walther takes his cue, and simply +vaulting into the seat of his Pegasus, casting the bridle upon +the neck of inspiration, he directly before them all pours forth +his full heart in profuse strains of unpremeditated art. He has +never committed their canons, is ignorant of their conventions; +he has genius, that is all, and its daring; is a poet born, not +made; is at the moment, beside all the rest, uplifted by the divine +fire of his love--and his song is right as some natural object, +a crystal or a flower. Consummate as is the song, it has yet the +character perfectly of an improvisation--the ideal improvisation, +let us say--the gush, the rush, the profusion of lovely ornament, +the unrestraint,--but essentially orderly, the unrestraint, like +that of an army with banners, swarming, in only apparent confusion, +up a height, to assured victory. The urge, the climbing effect +of the song, are owing, it is plain enough, to Walther's being +really inside of it, to his having cast his whole self into it, +with his straining after a goal, his desperate necessity to win. +In this case, verily the style is the man. "Begin!"--runs the sense +of that perfect song, "Thus shouted Spring in the woods, till they +rang again! And as the sound died away in distant waves, in the +distance a sound was born, drawing nearer and nearer in a mighty +flood. It grows, it resounds, the woods re-echo with a multitude +of sweet voices. Loud and clear, it sweeps anear, to what a torrent +it is grown! Like clangour of bells rings the multiple voice of +Joy! The forest, how readily it responds to the call which has +wakened it anew to life, and entones the sweet canticle of Spring!" + +The Marker's chalk is not idle; a number of workmanlike scratches +have been heard. Walther has stopped short, jarred by the sound. +He resumes after a moment: "In a thorny hedge, devoured by envy +and chagrin, Winter, in his armour of ill-will, cowers in hiding. +Amid the rustling of withered leaves, he sits spying with watchful +eye and ear for a chance to bring to grief the happy singing...." +The singer bounds to his feet. "None the less, 'Begin!' The cry +rang in my breast, when I was as yet wholly unaware of love! And +in my breast I felt a deep stirring, which woke me as if from a +dream. My heart filled the chamber of my bosom with its trembling +palpitations; mightily surged my blood, its stream swollen by new +emotions; stormily out of the warm night pressed the host of +sighs,--increasing, in the wild tumult of joy, to the innumerableness +of the sea. My breast, with what rapture it responds to the call +which has wakened it to new life, and entones the lovely canticle +of Love!" + +He has hardly ceased, when Beckmesser thrusts apart the curtains. +"Have you finished? I have quite finished with the blackboard!" He +holds up for inspection the blackboard, overscored on both sides +with great chalk-marks. The masters break into laughter. "Have the +goodness to listen," demands Walther imperiously; "I have only +just reached the point where my song is to publish my lady's +praise!"--"Go and sing wherever else you please. Here you have +failed." Beckmesser descends from his post, flourishing the blackboard. +"I beg you will examine, masters, this blackboard. Never since I +live has such a thing been heard of. I should not have believed +it though you had all affirmed it under oath...." Walther, in the +innocence of his youth, loudly appeals: "Do you intend to allow +him, masters, to interrupt me like this? Am I not from any one of +you to have a hearing?" Pogner's courtesy interferes: "One word, +friend Marker, are you not out of temper?" Beckmesser excitedly +proceeds to justify his chalk-marks. No beginning or end, defective +metre, defective construction! Blind meaning! Not one proper +breathing-space anywhere! No appropriate colouring--and of melody +not a vestige! Then, what a mad medley of "modes"! A mixture of +adventure-tone, blue-knightly-spurs tone, tall-pine-trees tone +and haughty-stripling tone! (Which permits the supposition that +David, though moved by the desire to amaze, was yet a faithful +reporter of the refinements of master-singing.) The master-singers +agree readily with Beckmesser, are really relieved to find their +impressions boldly put into form for them by him. Not one of them +has understood anything. Walther's unprecedented leaping to his +feet in the heat of inspiration has given offence to this one; +the other terms his singing "empty battering at the ear-drums." +They are about to subscribe unanimously to Beckmesser's verdict +that he has lost his case, when Sachs's voice breaks in upon the +confusion. He has listened to Walther in complete self-forgetful +absorption. The absence of all jealousy in his large nature leaves +his mind peculiarly open for genuine first-hand impressions; his +wide understanding is not repelled by the new and strange. The close +of the young man's song has found him won, enlisted, prepossessed. +He calls the masters to halt. "Not every one shares in your opinion! +The Knight's song struck me as novel, yet not confused; although +he forsook the beaten track, he strode along with firm, unerring +step...." Sachs nods to himself and beams at this reviewing of +the intense pleasure he has just experienced. "When you find that +you have been trying to measure by your own rules that which does +not lie within the compass of your rules, the thing to do is to +forget your rules and try to discover the rules of that which you +wish to measure!" Which sage talk is not destined to be fruitfully +heard in the agitation of prejudice, alarm, and dislike possessing +the majority of the masters. "Oh, very well," fumes Beckmesser, +"Now you have heard him: Sachs offering a loophole to bunglers, +that they may slip in and out at will and flourish at ease. Sing +to the people as much as you please, in marketplace and street; +here no one shall gain admission save in accordance with rule!" +Sachs insists that Walther must be heard to the end. "The guild of +the masters, the whole body," chafes Beckmesser, "are as nothing +counterbalanced by Sachs!" "God forbid," speaks Sachs, "that I should +desire anything contrary to the guild's laws; but among those very +laws it stands written that the Marker shall be so chosen that +neither love nor hate may influence his judgment. Now, if the Marker +go on lover's feet, how should he not yield to the temptation of +bringing a rival to derision before the assembled school?" Beckmesser +flares up, trembling with rage. "What concern of Master Sachs's is +it on what sort of feet I go? Let him sooner turn his attention to +making me shoes that will not hurt my toes. But since my shoe-maker +has become a mighty poet, it's a sorry business with my foot-wear. +See there, all down at the heel, the sole half off and shuffling! +His many verses and rhymes I would cheerfully dispense with, likewise +his tales, his plays, and his comical pieces, if he would just +bring me home my new shoes for to-morrow!" The thrust tells. Sachs +scratches his ear a little ruefully, but is not found quite without +a word to say. The excuse he advances is that while it is his custom +to write a verse on the sole of every shoe he delivers, he has +not yet found a verse worthy of the learned town-clerk. "But," +by a turn of the conversation directing it to a use nearer his +heart, "I very likely shall catch inspiration from the Knight," +he says, "when I have heard the whole of his song! Wherefore let +him sing further undisturbed. Sing!" Slyly smiling he makes sign +to Walther, "Sing, in Master Marker's despite!" + +Walther springs to the singing-chair, but the masters cry in a +voice, "An end! An end!" Walther, undaunted, climbs to his feet +upon the very seat of the sacred chair, from which he commands +the assembly by half his height and haughtily looks down upon it. +And he sings with all his lungs and all his fire to make himself +heard above the hubbub; he sings, determined to impose the impress +of himself upon their minds, will they or not; and his tenor pierces +through and floats over the snarling chorus of objection; and he +sings his song, in spite of them all, to the very end. "From the +dark thorn-hedge rustles forth the owl, and by his hooting rouses +the hoarse choir of the ravens; in night-black swarm they gather, +and croak aloud with their hollow voices, magpies, crows, and daws! +But thereupon soars upward on a pair of golden wings, wonderful, +a Bird: his clearly-shining plumage gleams bright aloft in the +air, rapturously he soars hither and thither, inviting me to join +him in flight. My heart expands with a delicious pain, my longing +to fly creates wings. I swing myself heavenward in daring flight, +away from that death-vault, the city, away to the hills of home; +thence to the green forest, meeting-place of birds, where long +ago Walther, the Poet, won my allegiance. There sing I clear and +loud the praise of my dearest lady, there mounts upward, little +as Master Crows may relish it, the proud canticle of love!" + +All this while the confusion of voices has not ceased or diminished. +Beckmesser has been heatedly, in support of his chalk-marks, going +over Walther's literary misdemeanours: Defective versification, +unpronounceable words, misplaced rhymes, etc. etc. The masters +have been vociferously criticising and rejecting the new-comer. +Pogner has looked on and taken no part, a dejected spectator. He +is sorry to see the Knight defeated, and he says to himself that +he knows he will regret his toleration of this high-handedness of +the masters. For the natural thought has risen in his mind that +it would be agreeable to have this fine fellow received in the +guild, and subsequently into his family as son-in-law. Upon which +thought naturally follows the other: "The victor whom I now must +fall back upon, who knows if my child will care for him? I confess +to a degree of uneasiness as to whether Eva will choose that master!" + +Sachs alone has listened through all the manifold disturbance--has +intently, delightedly listened; has loved the boy's courage, and +marvelled at the force of his inspiration; has besought the masters +to keep still and listen, or at least to let others listen.... "No +use! It is labour lost! One can hardly hear his own words. The +Knight can not from one of them gain attention!... That is what +I call courage, to go on singing like that! His heart is in the +right place,--a very giant of a poet. I, Hans Sachs, make verses and +shoes, but he is a Knight and a poet on top of it!" The apprentices, +emboldened by the general disorder, add their voices to the others, +attempting to drown out the singer so fierily, unremittingly singing +from his post of vantage. They join hands again and dance in circle +around the Marker's platform. + +Through all this, over all this, the stubborn song, not for a moment +weakening or wavering, has climbed its way, with the figurative +Bird, to its climax-point. His throat shall burst, but he will +be heard! His last note Walther holds for four bars: "_Das stolze +Lie----bes Lied!_"... Sung to an end it is, the lofty canticle of +love. The singer jumps down from the chair. "A lasting farewell to +you, my masters!" With a proud gesture, which rids him of them forever +and consigns them to the dust-heap of their sordid narrowness and +mediocrity, he stalks to the door. "_Versungen und verthan! Versungen +und verthan!_" cry the masters, raising their hands according to +custom in giving a vote; "_Versungen und verthan!_" He has failed +in song, he is done with! + +The song-trial is over. The apprentices in merry tumult take apart +the Marker's closet, hurry off benches and seats, rapidly clearing +the church of all signs of the meeting. The masters leave, except +Sachs. He stands gazing abstractedly at the singing-chair, while +a snatch of Walther's song sings itself over in his memory. His +meditation is interrupted by the apprentices snatching up and carrying +off the chair. With a half-melancholy smile and a gesture of delicate +mockery at himself for the spell he has so completely fallen under, +reluctantly the last master-singer turns to the door, and the curtain +falls. + +II + +The second act shows the exterior of Pogner's house and of Sachs's, +his neighbour across the street. It is the close of day; David, +putting up the shutters, is thinking of the morrow and its pleasures +so intently that he does not, for a moment, recognise Lene's voice +calling him. He mistakes it for that of some teasing fellow-apprentice, +until he turns around and beholds her, as so often! with a +promising-looking basket on her arm. "I bring you something good. +Yes, you may peep. That is for my precious treasure, but first, +quick, tell me, what success had the Knight? Did you instruct him +to some purpose? Was he made a master?"--"Ah, Mistress Lene, it's +a bad case! He failed utterly and miserably!"--"He failed?..." +"Ay,--why should you so particularly care?" She jerks away the +basket from his outstretched hand: "Keep your hands to yourself! +Here is nothing for you! God ha' mercy, our young lord defeated!" +and hurries into the house, leaving him crest-fallen, an object of +mockery to his companions, who have lost nothing of the interview. +Goaded, he has finally plunged among them with punishing fist, +when Sachs's arrival upon the scene stops the disorder. The boys +nimbly scatter. David is ordered indoors. "Close the shop and make +a light. Put the new shoes on the lasts!" Both go in. + +The peacefulness of evening is upon the scene. Pogner, with his +daughter on his arm, returning from a walk, comes down the lane +which divides his house from Sachs's. He hesitates at Sachs's door. +"Shall we see whether neighbour Sachs be at home? I should be glad +of a talk with him. Shall I go in?..." But he decides against it. +"Why should I, after all? Better not! When a man undertakes a course +out of the usual, how should he accept advice?... Was it not he who +considered that I went too far? Yet, in forsaking the beaten track, +was I not doing even as he does? Or, was I actuated peradventure--by +vanity?" Pogner is not easy in his mind, it is plain. He invites +his silent and preoccupied daughter to sit beside him a little +space on the stone seat under the linden in front of their house; +he tries to fortify his faltering heart with the review of his +plan for the morrow, held in the poetic light in which he first +saw and found it alluring. "Deliciously mild is the evening. It +presages a most beautiful day to shine upon you to-morrow. Oh, +child, does no throb of the heart tell you what happiness awaits +you to-morrow, when the whole of Nuremberg, with its burghers and +plebeians, its guilds, its populace and high officials, is to gather +in your presence to see you award the prize, the noble laurel-wreath, +to the master of your choice and your chosen bridegroom?" But he +speaks to the Evchen of day before yesterday. So recently as that +his scheme no doubt attracted the daughter of his blood even as it +did him; she saw it with kindred eyes. Her youthful pride rejoiced +in the part she was to play of lovely lady of romance, to know that +she should become from that day a heroine of legend, her name for +long years recurring in the songs of song-loving Nuremberg. As for +the practical side of the question, she felt safe. She believed +she knew which of the master-singers was sure of election by the +majority of the masters, and him she had it in her heart to crown +with a right good-will--so recently as day before yesterday. But +to-day, at her father's "the master of your choice" she wistfully +inquires, "Dear father, _must_ it be a master?"--"Understand me +well, _a master of your choice_," the uneasy parent replies. + +Magdalene is making signs from the doorway to Eva. The girl becomes +absent-minded, drops the subject in question, and suggests to her +father that he go in to supper. Vexed with himself and her, he +rises from her side. "We are not expecting any guest, are we?" +he asks, a shade querulously. "Why, surely, the Knight?"--"How is +that?"--"Did you not see him to-day?"--"No desire have I to see +him!" the troubled father mutters. Then, in a flash, two and two +leap together and make four to his startled mind. "What's this?... +Nay, thick-witted am I grown!"--"Dear little father, go in and +change your coat!" urges the pretty daughter. "Humph!" he murmurs, +now as absent-minded as she, "What is this buzzing in my head?" +and goes indoors. + +Magdalene reports to Eva David's news: the Knight has been refused +admission to the guild. "God help me! What shall I do!" cries Eva, +in a sea of troubles; "Ah, Lene, the anxiety!... Where to turn +to find out something?"--"From Sachs, perhaps?"--"Ah, yes, he is +fond of me. Certainly, I will go to him."--"Beware of arousing +suspicion. Your father will notice if we stay out any longer at +present. Wait until after supper. I shall have something further to +communicate to you then, a message which a certain person charged me +with privately."--"Who?.. The Knight?"--"No, Beckmesser."--"Something +proper that must be!" the fair girl scoffs as they enter the house. + +Sachs, in working-clothes, is seen moving within his shop. He orders +David to place his table and stool beside the door, and go to bed. +Reluctantly David goes off. He is troubled over Magdalene's +unaccountable behaviour to him, and this sitting up late of his +master's interferes with his slipping over to her for an explanation. +Sachs takes his seat before the work-table, sets his materials +aright, but having done it, instead of falling to work, leans back +and lets the sweetness of the evening beguile him, dreams possess +and waft him whither they will. That haunting strain from Walther's +song, repeated slowly, as by one savouring it with pensive pleasure, +again sings itself to his inward ear; it, indeed, is partly to +blame for his mood of gentle unrest. The memory will not let him +alone of that marvellous, that unprecedented experience of the +afternoon. Unreservedly the grey-haired man's homage flies to the +youngling who so easily outstrips them all, with their inveterate +painstaking, their multitudinous canons. Not only without a shade +of bitterness but with a tender elation, he lives over again the +emotions created in him by that passionate song. To his true poet's +heart it is a matter for exultation that just something beautiful +should have been, and he there to witness and rejoice. He reconsiders +it all with affectionate disquisition, fresh delight in every point. +If just a shade of sadness belongs to the hour, it lies in the +recognition that though the vision of beauty has by the contagion +that is proper to it stimulated in him the impulse to be at once +producing, he too, beautiful things, not by any longing could he, +after a life of faithful effort in the service of Poesy, produce +anything to compare with the unprepared effusion of that youth! + +In the serenity of the lovely evening his thoughts breathe themselves +forth upon the scented June air: "What fragrance--how mild, how +sweet, how abundant,--exhaled from the elder-tree! Its soft spell +loosens my fibres, solicits me to seek expression for my thoughts. +To what purpose, any expression of mine? A poor, simple fellow +am I! Little in the mood for work as I am, you had best, friend, +let me alone! Far wiser I should attend to my leather and desist +altogether from poetry!" Resolutely he falls to work. But Friend +Elder-tree does not therefore cease to shed scent. It casts its +spell over him again almost at once. "No, there is no use in trying +to work!" Sachs leans back and listens again to the echo in his +memory of Walther's song. "I feel it," he meditates, lending ear +to the persistent voice in his brain, "and cannot understand it. +I cannot retain it--nor yet can forget it! And if for a moment I +grasp it, to measure it is beyond me. But how should I hope to +grasp that which struck me as illimitable? No rule fitted it, and yet +it had not one fault! It sounded so old, and was yet so new,--like +the song of birds in the sweet May-time. One who should hear it, +and, smitten with madness, try to sing in imitation of that Bird, +would meet with scorn and derision.... The law of Spring,--exquisite +compulsion!--according to that were the rules of song laid in his +breast. And he sang even as he must! And as he must, the power +to do it came to him, I marked that quite particularly.... The +Bird who sang to-day, his beak is fashioned aright! Great as was +the dismay created by him among the masters, he was much to Hans +Sachs's mind!" + +Evchen has come out of her house and softly approached. Sachs looks +up, joyfully surprised, at her greeting: "Good-evening, master; still +so diligent?" There follows as pretty an exhibition of youthful +feminine arts as one could wish to see. The cajoling inflections +of the music alone would inform one of what is in action. Eva has +come to Sachs with an ulterior motive: to hear the details of the +song-trial. She has no mind, of course, to avow her interest frankly. +She must gain her end as she can, and, as a beginning, to flatter +her man and challenge his fondness for her can never fall wholly +wide of the mark. Sachs loves her dearly, that she knows, and she +has, in the innocent presumption of her young beauty, not questioned +that he would enter the song-tournament for her; and until yesterday +she rested in placid contentment upon the intention of crowning this +affection which never since her birth has failed her. Her narrow +eighteen years have no conception of a devotion so generous and deep +it would not dream, however fair the opportunity, of laying upon her +youth the burden of his maturity, the oppression of his thoughtfulness. +Sachs is unwilling, too, very likely, in his wisdom, to compromise +the peace of his Indian summer by assuming the guardianship of +an over-fair young wife. His neighbour's picturesque whim, the +song-contest in prospect, has no doubt given Sachs sufficient +uneasiness, but he finally, as we heard him declare to Pogner, +rests satisfied with the maiden's privilege of refusal. Not one of +the guild of master-singers seems to him worthy of this blooming +young Eve. As for the father's "Never!" applied to her marriage +if she shall not accept the master-singers' choice, Sachs knows +his Pogner and his Eva, and is willing to entrust the matter to +Time. + +And so the ingenuous seductress finds the genial, clever, mellow +neighbour's attitude toward her in this scene more canny than she +can have expected, or quite relishes. It almost appears he had +no idea of trying for her. Perhaps an intuition of her momentary +insincerity has made him more than naturally wary. The practising +upon himself of her pretty coquetries he suffers however without +unreasonable distaste. "Ha, child, dear Evchen, out so late? But +I know--I know what brings you so late. The new shoes?"--"You are +mistaken! I have not even tried on the shoes. They are so beautiful, +so richly ornamented, I have not yet ventured so much as to put them +on my feet!"--"And yet you are to wear them to-morrow as a bride?" +She takes a seat on the stone bench by his door and leans confidingly +close to him. "Who, then, is to be the bridegroom?"--"How should I +know?"--"How can you know then that I am to be a bride?"--"What a +question! The town knows it!"--"And if the town knows it, friend +Sachs feels that he has good authority. I should have thought that +he knew more than the town."--"What should I know?"--"See, now, I +shall be obliged to tell him! I am certainly a fool!..."--"I did not +say so."--"It is you then who are more than common knowing...."--"I +do not know."--"You do not know!.. You have nothing to say!..." +She draws away, nettled: "Ah, friend Sachs, I now perceive that +pitch is not wax! I had supposed you cleverer." Calmly he takes +up her words and by them guides the conversation from that ground. +"Child, the properties both of wax and pitch I am well acquainted +with. With wax I stroke the silken threads with which I stitch +your dainty shoes; the shoes I am at this moment making, I sew +with coarse cord, and use pitch to stiffen it, for the hard-fibred +customer who is to wear them."--"Who is it? Some one of great +consequence, I suppose?"--"Of consequence, indeed! A proud master, +on wooing bent, who has no doubt whatever of coming forth victorious +from to-morrow's event. For Master Beckmesser I am making these +shoes."--"Then use pitch in plenty, that he may stick fast in them +and trouble me no more!"--"He hopes surely by his song to win +you."--"What can justify such a hope?"--"He is a bachelor, you +see; there are not many in the place." Again she draws near and +bends close to him. "Might not a widower be successful?" In his +kind, sane, unsentimental voice he replies promptly: "My child, he +would be too old for you!"--"What do you mean, too old? The question +here is one of art. The man who has achieved distinction in art, +let him contend for me." Sachs smiles, indulgently, paternally. +"Dear little Eva, are you making a fool of me?" (_Machst mir blauen +Dunst?_ Are you blinding me with blue haze?)--"Not I! It is you--" +she retorts warmly, "it is you who are playing tricks on me. Confess +that you are of an inconstant nature. God knows who it is you have +now housed in your heart. And I have been supposing for years it +was I!"--"Because I used to be fond of carrying you in my arms?"--"I +see! It was only because you had no children of your own!"--"Time was +when I had a wife and children enough," Sachs reminds her gently. +"But your wife died, and I grew up!"--"And you grew up, tall and +most fair!"--"And so I thought you would take me into your house +in place of wife and child...."--"Thus I should have a child and a +wife in one ... A pleasant pastime, indeed! Ha ha! How beautifully +you have planned it all!"--"I believe," she pouts, and bends her +brows on him in a puzzled frown, "I believe that the master is +making fun of me! In the end he will calmly acquiesce in Beckmesser +to-morrow carrying me off, right under his nose, from him and all the +rest!"--"How could I prevent it," says Sachs, not upset apparently +by the fearful thought, "if he is successful? Your father alone +could find a remedy to that."--"Where such a master carries his +head!" cries Eva, in acute exasperation, "If I were to come to +your house, should I so much as be made at home?" Somewhat dryly +he takes up her words, as before, to steer the conversation from +these dubious borders; and by some hazard, or intuition, turns it +upon the subject nearest her heart. "Ah, yes, you are right! My +head is in a state of confusion. I have had much care and bother +to-day. Something of it clings very probably to my wits."--"At the +singing-school, do you mean?" she asks, with covert eagerness; +"There was song-trial to-day."--"Yes, child, I had considerable +trouble over an election." She draws close to him. "Now, Sachs! +You should have said so at once, and I would not have harassed +you with senseless questions. Tell me now who it was that sought +for election?"--"A knight, my child, wofully untaught!"--"A knight? +You do not say so! And was he admitted?"--"Far from it, my dear. +There was too much difference of opinion."--"Well, tell me, then. +Tell me how it all happened. If it troubles you, how should it +leave me untroubled? So he stood the trial discreditably and was +defeated...."--"Hopelessly defeated, the gallant cavalier!" Walther's +failure is symbolised by a melodious groan. "Hopelessly, you say? +There was no way then by which he might have been saved? Did he +sing so badly, so faultily, that there is no possibility more of +his becoming a master?"--"My child," Sachs broadly assevers, "for +him all is definitely lost. And never in any land will he be made +a master. For he who is a master born occupies ever among masters +the very lowest place." On the verge of tears, with difficulty +controlling her indignation, Eva continues her questioning: "One +thing more tell me. Did he not find among the masters a single +friend?" Sachs nearly laughs. "That were not bad! To be, on top of +everything, his friend! His friend--before whom all feel themselves +so small!..." (If Eva were not so engrossed with her single idea, +the gleam in Sachs's eye, the fire in his tone, would interpret to +her this brutal-sounding speech.) "Young Lord Arrogance, let him +go his way! Let him go brawling and slashing through the world! +As for us, let us draw our breath in peaceful enjoyment of what +we have acquired with labour and difficulty. Keep off the fiery +fellow from running amuck among us! Let fortune bloom for him +elsewhere!" Trembling with anger, and dropping all concealment, +Eva springs to her feet: "Yes, elsewhere shall fortune bloom for +him than in the neighbourhood of you repulsive envy-ridden +creatures!--elsewhere, where hearts still have some warmth in them, +in spite of all cantankerous Master Hanses!--Directly, yes, I am +coming!" (This to Magdalene, who has been calling to her from her +father's door.) "I go home much comforted! It reeks of pitch here +till God take pity on us! Kindle a fire with it, do, Master Sachs, +and get a little warmth into you, if you can!" + +"I thought so!" Sachs says to himself as he watches her cross the +street to her own door. Two and two have leaped together in his +mind, too. "The question is now what will be the sage course to +pursue." He goes within and closes his door... all but a crack. + +"Your father is asking for you," Magdalene reports to her agitated +mistress. "Go to him," weeps Eva, "and say that I have gone to my +room and to bed." But Beckmesser--the nurse reminds her of the +message from him. He desires her to be at the window; he will sing +and play to her a beautiful composition by which he hopes on the +morrow to win her. He wishes to discover whether it be to her taste. +Eva, anxiously awaiting the arrival of her lover, disposes of the +subject by ordering Magdalene to be at the window in her place. +"That would make David jealous!" reflects Magdalene; "His chamber +is toward the lane." The prospect tickles her spirits. Even as +she is urging Eva to go in, for her father, is calling, Walther +comes down the lane. Hopeless after that, Magdalene recognises, +to attempt dragging indoors the damsel. She hurries in by herself +to content Pogner with some discreet misrepresentation. + +With passionate endearments Walther and Eva have rushed into each +other's arms. All is lost which depended upon his winning the title +of master-singer. There is nothing further to hope from that quarter; +no choice is left, they must fly together. "Away, where liberty +is!" he cries, "That is where I belong, there where I am master in +the house!" He grows hot with anger at remembrance of the masters' +treatment of him, but, even more, with loathing at the thought +of his beloved sitting to-morrow in their midst, looked upon by +them with covetous eyes as a possible bride. "And I would endure +it, do you think? I would not fall upon them all, sword in hand?" +The night-watchman's horn breaks across his heated outburst. He +claps hand to his sword. Eva draws him gently into the shadow of +the linden-tree, to lie concealed until the watchman have passed, +and leaves him a moment to go within. + +The night-watchman, with pike, horn, and lantern, comes down the +lane, calling the hour of ten; he bids the householders look to +their fires and lights, avoiding disaster, and so let God the Lord +be praised! He turns the corner, the sound of his horn dies away. + +Sachs from behind his door has played the eavesdropper. "Evil doings +are under way! No less than an elopement! Attention! This must +not be!" + +Eva creeps forth from her father's house, disguised for the journey +in Magdalene's things. "No stopping for reflection!" she cries; "Away +from here! Away! Oh, that we were already off and afar!"--"This way, +through the lane...." Walther draws her along with him. "At the +city-gate we shall find servant and horses." But right across the +lane falls suddenly a great shaft of light, projected from Sachs's +window, cast by a lamp placed behind a glass globe which magnifies +it to intense brilliancy. The lovers find themselves standing in +a bright illumination. Eva pulls Walther quickly back into the +dark. "Woe's me, the shoe-maker! If he were to see us!... Hide! Do +not go near that man!"--"What other road can we take?"--"The street +there--but it is a winding one, I am not well acquainted with it, +and, besides, we should run into the night-watchman."--"Well, then, +through the lane!"--"The shoe-maker must first leave the window!"--"I +will force him to leave it!" says Walther, fiercely.--"He must +not see you. He knows you."--"The shoe-maker?..."--"Yes, it is +Sachs."--"Hans Sachs, my friend?"--"Do not believe it! He had nothing +but evil to say of you!"--"What, Sachs? He, too?... I will put out +his lamp!" She catches again at his arm, and even at that moment +both are startled into immobility by the sound of a lute. Some one +approaches, testing as he comes the strings of a lute, if they be +in tune. The light has disappeared from the shoe-maker's window. +Walther is again for dashing down the lane toward the city-gate and +the horses. "But no! Can't you hear?"--his lady hangs back. "Some +one else has come and taken up his station there."--"I hear it +and see it. It is some street-musician. What is he doing so late +at night?"--"It is Beckmesser!"--"What, the Marker? The Marker +in my power? There is one whose loafing in the street shall not +trouble us long...." Again she catches in terror at his arm, so +ready ever to catch at the sword. "For the love of Heaven, listen! +Do you wish to waken my father? The man will sing his song and +then will go his way. Let us hide behind the shrubs yonder." She +draws her lover to the stone seat under the linden-tree. + +Sachs at the sound of the lute has drawn in his light, become +superfluous, since the road is effectually blocked for the lovers by +the musical interloper. He overhears Eva's exclamation, "Beckmesser!" +and has an idea. Beckmesser shall be made of use to prevent the +lovers as long as possible from moving any farther from the safe +parental roof than that stone seat under the linden, where they +huddle close, whispering together, while keeping a watchful eye +on the actors of the comedy which follows. Sachs, as one might +know of him, loves a joke. He softly opens his door, places his +work-bench and lamp right in the doorway, and sets himself at his +work. When Beckmesser, after impatiently preluding to bring to +the window the figure he is expecting, clears his throat to begin +the serenade, Sachs, vigourously hammering on his last, prevents +him by bursting forth on his own account in a lusty ditty with +much loud Ohe, Ohe, Trallalei!--a playful ditty, sweet at the core, +about Eve, the original mother, and the first pair of shoes, ordered +for her from an angel by the Lord himself, who was sorry to see the +pitiful sinner, when turned out of Paradise, go bruising her little +feet, for which He had a tenderness, on the hard stones; and Adam, +too, stubbing his toes against the flints, the song tells how he +on the same occasion was measured for boots. Beckmesser can hardly +contain his impatience and disgust till the first verse comes to an +end. Upon the last note of it, he addresses the shoe-maker with +what sickly civility he can summon: "How is this, master? Still +up? So late at night?" Sachs expresses an equal surprise to find +the town-clerk moving abroad: "I suppose you are concerned for +your shoes. I am at work on them, as you see; you shall have them +to-morrow."--"Devil take the shoes!" groans Beckmesser; "What I want +here is quiet!" But his words are lost amid Sachs's hammer-blows +and unmoderated voice launching forth upon the second verse. "You +are to stop at once!" Beckmesser, in mounting anger, orders Sachs, +as, hardly pausing to take breath, the shoe-maker is attacking +the third verse. "Is it a practical joke you are playing on me? +Do you make no distinction between the night and the day?" Sachs +looks at him in innocent surprise. "What does it matter to you that +I should sing? You are anxious, are you not, to have your shoes +finished?"--"Shut yourself up indoors then and keep quiet!"--"Nay, +night-labour is burdensome; if I am to keep cheerful at my work, I +must have air and light-hearted song. So hear how the third verse +goes!" And he attacks it with a will. There is added to Beckmesser's +other troubles the fearful thought that the maiden may mistake this +outrageous bellowing for his love-song. A second-story window in +Pogner's house has softly opened, a form is dimly outlined within +the frame of it. "I am lost now," Beckmesser desperately reflects, +"if he goes on singing!" He resolutely steps up to Sachs: "Friend +Sachs, just listen to one word! How bent you seem upon those shoes! +I truly had forgotten all about them. As a shoe-maker, the fact is, +I hold you in great esteem, but as an artist and critic I honour +you even more highly. I beseech you therefore to give your attention +to a little song by which I hope to-morrow to win the prize. I am +eager to be told whether you think well of it." While talking, +he strums, as if casually, upon his lute, to keep the lady from +leaving the window. "Oh, no!" Sachs replies; "You wish to catch +me by my weak side. I have no wish for another berating. Since +your shoe-maker takes himself for a poet, it fares but ill with +your footgear. I can see for myself that it is in a deplorable +condition. And so I drop verse and rhyme, knowledge and erudition, +and I make you the new shoes for to-morrow."--"Let that be, do!" +Beckmesser adjures him; "That was only a joke. Understand now what +my true sentiments are. You stand high in honour with the people, +and the daughter of Pogner has a great opinion of you. Now, if +I intend to offer myself as a suitor for her to-morrow, can you +not see how I might be destroyed by her not taking kindly to my +song? Therefore listen to me quietly, do, and when I have finished +my song tell me what in it you like, and what not, that I may make +my dispositions accordingly."--"Go along! Let me alone!" Sachs +still excuses himself; "How should so much honour accrue to me? My +songs are but common street-songs; let me therefore, in my common +way, sing them to the street!" He is taking up his noisy lay again +about Eve and shoes when Beckmesser's rage explodes. Quaking, the +town-clerk pours forth reproach and insult. This conduct of the +shoe-maker's has its source in envy, nothing else; envy of the +dignity of Marker which has never been bestowed upon him, and which +now never will be, not so long as Beckmesser lives and has influence +with the masters. When he stops at last, for lack of breath, Sachs +asks artlessly: "Was that your song?... Somewhat irregular in form, +but it sounded right spirited!" + +Walther, in the shadow, clasping his troubled lady, who is unaccountably +saddened by the untimely farce, struggles with a hysterical desire +to laugh--it is all so like a fantastic dream. + +At last shoe-maker and town-clerk come to an arrangement. Beckmesser +shall sing his song, and Sachs, whose criticism he so unwontedly +desires, shall act as Marker; but Sachs, who contends that he is +loath to stop work on his shoes, instead of marking with chalk, +shall mark the singer's mistakes by blows of his hammer on the +last, and so, peradventure, while listening, forward his work. A +disgusting arrangement, but Beckmesser is in such terror lest the +lady leave her post before he have sung that he consents. "Begin!" +hollaes Sachs, and Beckmesser, after preluding, sings, while Sachs +punctuates the lines with smart taps on the last. These at first +discompose the singer, and he stops at each tap to inquire angrily +what it is that is not right; he shortly resolves, however, to pay +no heed to the spiteful enemy, but cover over the interruptions with +his voice. Louder and louder and ever more breathlessly he sings, +a lyric that is more prosy than prose, a piece of common statement +of facts, tortured into verse, which attains metre only by throwing +the accent continually, ludicrously, on the wrong syllables. The +melody, nasal and snuffling, is the very prose, too, of music. A +ridiculous, dead-in-earnest song, relating in three long verses the +circumstances of the song-contest and the singer's tender hopes. + +By the end of the second verse, the teasing shoe-maker has tapped +so much that the soles are solid with the vamps. He swings the +finished shoes triumphantly before his customer, announcing that +he has thought of an appropriate verse to write on the soles, and +it is: "A good song must keep time!" But Beckmesser does not stop +for him. Beckmesser disdainfully goes on, as if he and the lady +were alone in the world, and he sang thus loud to overpower some +such thing as the sea-surf. In his engrossment he fails to take +account of various ominous signs. He does not see David appear at +his chamber-window. In spite of Eva's clothes which she is wearing, +the boy recognises Magdalene at the casement across the way. His +jealousy is quick to suppose her cold treatment of himself due to +an inclination toward this new admirer. The neighbours, too, begin +to lean out of their windows and ask the reason of this abominable +caterwauling. A crowd collects in the street, of persons trying +to find out what is the matter. The apprentices come flocking, +mischievous instigators to mischief, and the journeymen, little +better than they. Soon, there is difference and quarreling among +those arriving to inquire the cause of the disturbance. Neighbours +pour into the street, men and women in night-attire; finally, the heavy +burghers arrive, the masters themselves, noisy, almost disorderly, in +their attempts to restore order. Beckmesser, singing at the top of +his lungs, does not wake to consciousness of his surroundings until +a cudgel falls across his back, wielded by David. He flees--but is +at every few steps overtaken again and beaten. The two figures, in +flight and pursuit, waving lute and brandishing cudgel, disappear +and reappear at intervals among the swaying crowd. In vain Magdalene +from above screams to David to let the gentleman go. Pogner's hand +draws her away from the window; in the dim light he mistakes her +for Eva. Sachs, when the confusion is well under way, draws in his +work-bench and closes his door ... again all but a crack, through +which he can watch the two figures wrapped in a single cloak beneath +the linden-tree. When the disorder is at its height, Walther clasps +the girl with his left arm, with his right bares his sword, and +attempts a rush through the crowd, toward the gates and horses +of freedom. Quick as thought, Sachs has cleared his way to the +couple; he grasps Walther by the arm. Pogner at the same moment +appears at his door, calling for Lene. Sachs pushes toward him +Eva, half-fainting, bereft by panic of all power to withstand the +impulsion. Pogner receives her in his arms and draws her within +doors, not suspecting but that she is the faithful nurse whose +garments she wears. With deft foot Sachs propels David before him +into the house; then, forcibly drawing Walther with him across the +threshold, fastens the door,--his object happily accomplished. + +The street-battle is still raging. But at this point women pour +water from the windows on the heads of the combatants, as they would +on fighting dogs. Simultaneously, the horn of the night-watchman +is heard. In the space of a yawn the scene is deserted; all down +the street are fast-closed windows and doors; Beckmesser hobbles +off rubbing his back. The old night-watchman, reaching the spot, +rubs his eyes, clearly wondering if he have dreamed that he heard +alarming sounds from that quarter. After looking all around, he +droningly calls the hour of eleven, enjoins the people to be on +guard against phantoms and spooks, that no evil spirit may work +harm to their souls, and so let God the Lord be praised! The full +moon rising above the housetops suddenly floods the quiet lane. +The watchman slowly goes down it. As he vanishes around the corner, +the curtain falls. + +III + +The interior of Sachs's workshop. The poet sits in an ample armchair, +near the window, bathed in the morning sunshine, absorbed in a +great book. The magnanimity of his mood, the beautiful deep calm +following upon certain resolutions and sacrifices, the gently exalted +melancholy of his meditations--half remembrance, and dreamy as if +violet shades of evening softened them,--the composer has given +us to apprehend all in the introduction to the third act. + +So rapt is Sachs in the perusal of his great volume, or, as may +be suspected, in images which float between the page and his eyes, +that he does not see David enter carrying a basket of Lene's bestowal +filled with flowers and ribbons for the adornment of his person on +this festival day, as well as with cake and sausage. The apprentice, +when Sachs does not speak, or, spoken to, answer, or make sign when +he informs him that Beckmesser's shoes have been duly delivered, +believes him to be angry, and goes into a long apology for his +misconduct on the night before, brightening finally with the relation +of his making-up this morning with Lene, who has satisfactorily +explained all. Sachs reads on, as little disturbed as by the buzzing +of a fly on the pane. Only when he has finished, and closed his +book,--the unexpected clap of the covers so startles David that he +stumbles to his knees--Sachs looks around him, as if coming back +from a dream. His eye is caught by the bright flowers and ribbons +brought in by David. Their effect of young gayety touches some chord +in him more than usually sensitive at this moment. "Flowers and +ribbons I see over there," he muses audibly; "Sweet and youthful +they look! How come they in my house?" David is relieved to find him +in this gentle mood, yet puzzled at the remoteness and abstraction +from which the master is but slowly drawn. He has occasion for a +moment to wonder even whether the master have perchance become +hard of hearing.... + +Fully returned at length to a sense of the common surrounding world, +Sachs asks David for his day's lesson, and the apprentice briskly +sings his verse, first comically confusing the tune with that of +Beckmesser's serenade, still buzzing in his head, then, at Sachs's +gesture of astonishment, righting himself and acquitting himself of +his task without slip. The verse is a playful bit, between psalm +and street-song. It relates that when Saint John was baptising +on the banks of Jordan there came to him a lady from Nuremberg +bringing her little son for baptism. When she got home, however, to +German land, it proved that vainly had one on the banks of Jordan +been given the name of Johannes, on the banks of the Pegnitz he +became Hans! The pronouncing of the name brings to David's mind +the remembrance suddenly that it is his master's name, that the +day is therefore his name's-day. In an impulse of affectionate +devotion he presses on him all the gay articles just received from +Lene, the flowers and ribbons, the magnificent cake, and, but shyly, +as if it were not quite worthy of a poet, the sausage. With great +gentleness, Sachs thanks the lad and bids him keep the things for +himself, adding a request that he make himself fine with those +same flowers and ribbons to accompany him presently to the meadow +outside the city gates where the song-contest is to be held. His +stately herald he shall be. Sachs's friendliness encourages the +boy to venture a small liberty. "May I not rather go as your +groom's-man? Master, dear master, you must marry again!"--"You +would be glad of a mistress in the house?" asks Sachs dreamily.--"It +would make, in my opinion, a much more imposing household!" There +is popular talk and expectation of it, as an outcome of the coming +song-contest, David intimates; "You will hardly have much trouble, +as I think, in singing Beckmesser out of the field; I hardly believe +he will make himself very conspicuous to-day!"--"I hardly believe so, +either," Sachs smiles: "But go now, and be careful not to disturb +his lordship. Come back when you have made yourself fine." + +Left alone, Sachs sinks into thought again, sitting there with +his book on his knees and his head propped on his hand. We are +allowed to follow his reflections, those of a philosopher,--but not +one standing apart and watching a little scornfully the vagaries +of men; a very human being, taking part in them, without losing a +humourous sense of their character. "Illusion! Illusion! Everywhere +illusion! Whichever way I bend my inquiry, searching the chronicles +of the city and those of the world, to discover the reason why +people, in vain and frantic rage, torment and oppress themselves +and one another to the point of bloodshed! No one has any good +of it, or receives any thanks for it. Through its working, the +defeated and put to flight fancies himself chasing the foe. He +is deaf to his own cry of pain. When he twists the knife in his +own flesh, he has an idea that he is doing himself a pleasure! Who +shall find a name for it? One name, forsooth, befits it: Ancient +Illusion it is, without which nothing happens, nothing either goes or +stands still. If it halts in its career, it merely while slumbering +gathers new force; it presently wakes up, and then see who can +master it!..." He smiles whimsically, nodding to himself, at the +contemplation of the instance of all this uppermost in his mind, +the events of the evening before. "How peaceful, in its adherence +to good customs, approved in conduct and deed, lies in the heart +of Germany my beloved Nuremberg! But late upon a night, a man there +is found totally void of counsel how to prevent a catastrophe, +resulting from youth and hot blood. A shoe-maker in his shop tugs +gently at the threads of illusion: how promptly up and down the +lanes and streets the thing begins to rage; men, women, boys and +children, fall upon one another like mad and blind; and the +crack-brained spirit is not to be laid until a shower fall of blows--a +shower of blows, kicks and cudgel-thwacks, to smother the angry +conflagration. God knows how it all came about?" He smiles again, +reflectively, over the recollection of the lovely quiet evening +it was, the terrific discordant pother that arose,--the lovely +and hushed night that presently resumed her reign. The incident +looks fantastic now. "An imp must have had a hand in it!" is the +poet's fanciful induction; "A glow-worm could not find his mate, +it was he responsible for all the damage done! It was the fault of +the elder-tree--of Saint John's night! ... But now--" he broadly +dismisses the fancies and aberrations of the warm mid-summer night, +and turns his face toward the clear-defined duty of the day: "But +now it is Saint John's Day! And now let us see how Hans Sachs shall +contrive deftly to guide Illusion to the working out of a noble +purpose. For if the spirit will not let us rest even here in Nuremberg, +let it be for such works as seldom succeed by vulgar means, and +succeed never without some grain of illusion in the perpetrator +himself!" + +Walther appears at the door of an inner chamber. Sachs rises to +meet and greet his guest. They had a good talk the night before, +after the wise shoester's act of well-meant violence. Walther was +grateful, no doubt, upon calmer reflection, to have been saved +from the ruinous folly he had projected. The two men are obviously +fast friends. There is in Sachs's attitude a touching deference +toward the younger man, the heart-wholly acknowledged superior +in talent. It is a pleasant spectacle, the grey meistersinger's +eager glorying in the golden youth's simple, abundant, God-bestowed +gift. The motif of his address to Walther has a touch of charming +courtliness. "God keep your lordship! Did you find rest? You were +up late--you did, however, finally sleep?"--"A little," Walther +answers, "but soundly and well." There is something hushed and +fixed in Walther's aspect, as if he listened to voices no one else +could hear, gazed upon some vision invisible to others. He is still +under the spell of a recent marvellous impression. "I have had--" +he tells Sachs, when the latter genially asks is he feeling, after +his good sleep, in good form and of good courage, "I have had a +wonderfully beautiful dream...."--"A good omen, that! Tell me your +dream!"--"I hardly dare to touch it with my thought, so do I fear +to see it fade away."--"My friend," the older poet with fine amenity +takes up the part of teacher, and his observations have a ripe, +sunny, elevated wisdom, for which one should store them carefully +as one does good fruit, "that exactly is the task of a poet, to +mark dreams and interpret them. Believe me, of all the illusions +of man the most nearly approaching truth are those he comes into +cognisance of through dreams. The whole art of poetry is but the +interpretation of true-dreaming. What if this dream now should +contain a hint how you may to-day be made a master?"--"No, no," +Walther rejects the idea with distaste; "In the presence of the +guild and its masters, scant inspiration would animate my +dream-picture!"--"But yet, suppose your dream contained the magic +spell by which you might win over the guild?" Walther shakes his +head: "How do you cling to an illusion, if after such a rupture as +you witnessed you still cherish such a hope!"--"Nay, my hope stands +undiminished, nor has anything so far occurred to overthrow it; if +that were not so, believe me, instead of preventing your flight, I +would myself have taken flight with you! Pray you, therefore, let +your resentment die! You are dealing with honourable men. They make +mistakes and are fairly settled in the comfortable determination +to be taken in their own way. Those who offer prizes desire after +all that one shall please them. Your song scared them, and with +reason, for, upon reflection, the like flaming poetry and passion +are adapted for the luring of daughters into mad adventures, but +the sentiment leading to the blessed married state finds words and +notes of a different sort!" Walther grins: "I know the sort--from +hearing them last night; there was a good deal of noise out in the +street." Sachs laughs too; "Yes! yes!... You heard likewise how +I beat time. But let be all that, and follow my advice, good and +short: summon up your energies for a master-song!"--"A beautiful +song, and a master-song, how am I to seize the distinction between +them?" asks the singer of the beautiful song which had been despised. +"My friend," Sachs explains, with a warmth as of tears and blood, +"in the beautiful days of youth, when the bosom expands high and +wide with the mighty transports of happy first love, many are they +who can achieve a beautiful song: the Spring-time it is which sings +for them! But let summer come, autumn and winter, the sorrows and +cares of life,--no dearth of wedded joys along-side!--christenings, +business, discord and difficulties, those who still after all that +can compass the singing of a beautiful song, those, mark me, are +entitled masters!" Aye, first, as a modern poet has said, warm +natural drops of blood; later, the alchemist's laborious spheres of +chemic gold. In youth, all-sufficient inspiration,--later, labour +and rule, with meritorious concentration substituting for impetus +and fire the beauty of careful form, and making durable in this +the evanescent dreams of youth. "Learn the master-rules in good +season," Sachs adds, "that they may be faithful guides to you, +helping you to preserve safely that which in the gracious years +of youth spring-time and love with exquisite throes bred in your +unconscious heart, that you may store and treasure it, and it may +not be lost!"--"But who--" Walther asks, inclined to cavil where +anything is concerned which relates to the master-singers, "Who +created these rules which stand in such high honour?"--"They were +sorely-needy masters," Sachs in his moved tones continues the charming +lesson, "spirits heavily weighted with the weariness of life; in +the wilderness of their distresses they created for themselves +an image, that they might retain vivid and lasting the memory of +young love, bearing the sign and stamp still, and breathing the +fragrance, of Spring!"--"But," Walther objects, suspicious of that +whole tribe of snuffy masters, for whom Sachs has the same charity +of a broad understanding which he has shown in Walter's own case, +"however can he for whom Spring is long past fix the essence of it +in an image?"--"He recreates it as well as he can," Sachs sums with +sudden curtness, recognising perhaps the futility of his attempt +against this so lively dislike; and passes on to the point more +important at this moment, to his thinking. "I beg you, therefore, +sorely-needy man that I am, if I am to teach you the rules, that +you should renew in me the sense of that which originally gave them +rise. See, here are ink, pen, and paper. I will be your scribe, +do you dictate."--"Hardly should I know how to begin."--"Relate +to me your morning dream."--"Nay, as a result of your teaching +of rules, I feel as if it had faded quite away."--"The very point +where the poet's art comes into requisition! Recall your beautiful +dream of the morning, for the rest, let it be Hans Sachs's care!" + +Walther takes a moment to collect himself. Sachs sits with quill +poised over paper. Then Walther relates his dream, meeting Sachs's +request for a master-song by casting it as he goes, with the light +ease of genius, into verse and melody,--his second astonishing +improvisation, joyous as the first, but not agitated--reflective, +as if he filled Sordello's account of himself: "_I' mi son un che +quando Amore spira, noto, e quel che detta dentro vo significando._" +I am one who when Love breathes, do note, and that which he dictates +within do go expressing. All things lovely seem to have congregated +in this dream of his; it is no wonder that the lingering impression +of it enveloped him with an atmosphere of Paradise, and that he +feared almost to breathe lest it be dispelled. Just the words he +has to use, without their relations, conjure up a flock of alluring +images: Morning-shine, roseate light, blossoms, perfume, air, +joy,--unimaginable joy, a garden! The idea that a poet's song is +as much a part of him as fruit is of the tree stands illustrated +by the fact that the song which falls on our ear as in its ensemble +so fresh, is yet composed in great part of the Walther-motifs with +which we have become familiar; his youth, his enthusiasm, his courage +and his love, all go into the making of his song. As he said in +answer to Kothner, what should be put into his song unless the +essence of all he had known and lived? + +Glimmering beneath the rosy light of dawn, the air being laden +with the scent of flowers, a garden, he sings, full of never before +imagined attractions, had invited him to enter it.... + +"That was a stanza." Sachs states, as Walther pauses. "Take careful +heed now that the one following must be exactly like it."--"Why +exactly alike?" the free-born asks, ready to chafe at the shadow +of a restriction. Sachs, indulgent, makes play for this prodigious +child's sake of the to him so grave business of song-making: "That +one may see that you have selected a mate!" + +In that blissful garden a magnificent tree had proffered to his +desire a sumptuous harvest of golden fruit.... Such is the matter +of the second stanza. + +"You did not," Sachs critically considers, "close on the same tone. +Excruciating is that to the masters, but Hans Sachs learns from your +doing it that in Spring-time it must perforce be so! Proceed now +to the aftersong."--"What is that?" asks Walther. "Your success in +finding a well-suited couple will appear now from their off-spring!" + +In the garden, by an exquisite miracle, he had found suddenly standing +at his side a woman, more sweetly and graciously beautiful than +any he had ever beheld. Like a bride she had entwined her arms +softly about him, and had guided him, with eyes and hand, toward +the fruit of his desire, the fair fruit of the tree of life.... + +Joyfully stirred as he is by the beauty of dream and song, Sachs +controls his emotion, to secure all he can from the young poet's +momentary docility. "There's what I call an aftersong!" he exclaims +cordially; "See, now, how rounded and fine is the whole first part. +With the melody you deal, to be sure, a bit freely. I do not say, +however, that it is a fault. But it makes the thing more difficult +to retain, and that incenses our old men. Let us have now a second +part, that we may gain a clear idea of the first. I do not even +know, so skilfully have you cast them into rhyme, what in your +song was invention and what was dream...." + +With heavenly glow of sunset-light, day had departed, as he lay +there drinking joy from her eyes, desire the sole power in possession +of his heart. Night had closed down, baffling the eyesight, when, +through the branches, the rays of two bright stars had shed their +light upon his face. The sound of a spring upon the quiet height +had reached his ear, murmuring more musically than any spring heard +theretofore; stars had appeared in multitude, dancing among the +boughs overhead, until, instead of golden fruit, the laurel-tree +had swarmed with a host of stars.... + +"Friend!" cries Sachs, striving against the full betrayal of his +pleasure, lest it be an interrupting element, "your dream was an +effectual guide! The second part is successful as the first. If +now," he ventures, "you would compose a third, it might contain +the interpretation of your dream...." But Walther jumps up from his +chair, suddenly weary of the game. "Enough of words!" And Sachs, with +sympathetic understanding of the incalculable ways of poets, refrains +from pressing him. That overbubbling inspiration he believes can +be counted upon. "Reserve then word and deed for the proper place. +And I pray you hold fast in memory, this melody, a charming one it +is to fit with words. And, against the moment of singing it in a +more extended circle, hold fast likewise to your dream!"--"What have +you in mind?" Walther inquires. Sachs does not directly enlighten +him, but: "Your faithful servant has, very seasonably, arrived +with packs and porte-manteaux. The garments in which you intended +to make yourself brave for wedding-ceremonials at home, he has +brought here to the house. A little dove no doubt directed him to +the nest where his master slept. Come with me therefore to your +chamber. Fitting it is we both attire ourselves splendidly, when +a splendid deed is to be dared!" Walther without question places +his hand, as if it held his whole confidence, in Sachs's. They +pass together out of the workshop. + +The stage remains for a moment empty. The air retains as if echoes, +or fragrances, of the personalities which have but just withdrawn; it +is sweetened with effluvia of Walther's youth, of Sachs's greatness +of heart. Suddenly, like a bar of bilious green across a shimmering +mother-o'-pearl fabric, harmonies of a very different sort catch +the attention, and Beckmesser's face is seen peering in at the +window. Finding the workshop empty, he limps in. He is in holiday +array, but there is little of holiday about him, save in his gaudily +beribboned clothes. A long comedy-scene follows, in which Beckmesser +says never a word, but his thoughts are heard and his actions are +eloquent. His body is one mass of aches and pains, his soul the +battleground of anger, shame, thirst for vengeance. The din of the +evening before fills his ears; he is chased, as if by furies, by +memories of the indignities put upon him. He is so sore he cannot +sit; when he goes his joints hurt rackingly. His restless moving +about the room while he waits for Sachs brings him to the master's +writing-table: his eye falls on the sheet of music on which Sachs +has taken down Walther's song; his attention is arrested; he reads +it off mentally with ever-increasing agitation. No mistake possible, +in his mind: Sachs, who had declared that he would not enter the +song-contest for Pogner's daughter, has outrageously lied, and +here is the proof of it, this song which he means to sing at the +tournament. "Now," bursts forth Beckmesser, "everything becomes +clear to me!" He jumps, hearing Sachs at the door, and stuffs the +paper into his pocket. Sachs, in his handsome best-coat, meets him +pleasantly. "You surely are not having any more trouble with the +shoes?" Beckmesser's wrath holds in but a moment before voiding +itself upon Sachs in accusation and threat. "Be sure, friend Sachs, +I know you now!... That I may not stand in your way, you go so +far even as to incite the mob to riot.... You have always been +my enemy.... Now hear, whether I see through you. The maiden whom +I have chosen, who was verily born for me, to the frustration of +all widowers there be,--of her you are in pursuit! In order that +Master Sachs might gain the goldsmith's rich inheritance it was +that at the council of masters he stood upon minor clauses. For +that reason, fool that I was! with bawling and hammering he tried to +drown my song,--that the child might not be made aware of another's +ability! Yes, yes! Have I hit the mark? And finally from his cobbler's +shop he egged after me boys with cudgels, that he might be rid of +me.... Ouch! Ouch! Green and blue was I beaten, made an object +of derision to the beloved woman, so drubbed and maltreated that +no tailor's flat-iron can smoothe me out! Upon my very life an +attempt was made! But I came out of it with sufficient spirit left +to reward you for the deed. Stand forth to-day and sing, do, and +see how you prosper. Beaten and bruised as I am, I shall certainly +manage to throw you out of time!" Sachs has unperturbedly let him +spend himself. "My good friend, you are labouring under a delusion. +You are free to attribute to me what actions you please... but I +have not the least thought of competing." "Lies and deceit!" roars +Beckmesser, "I know better!" Sachs quietly repeats his statement. +"What else I have in mind is no affair of yours. But concerning +the contest you are in error."--"Not in the contest? No +competition-song?"--"Certainly not." Beckmesser produces the piece +of music. "Is that your hand?"--"Yes," Sachs owns, amused; "Was +that it?"--"I suppose you call it a biblical lay?"--"Nay," laughs +Sachs, "any one guessing it to be such would hit wide enough of +the mark."--"Well, then?"--"What is it?"--"Do you ask me?"--"What +do you mean?"--"That you are, in all can dour, a rogue of the first +magnitude!" Sachs shrugs good-humouredly; "Maybe! I have never, +however, pocketed what I found upon another's table. That one may +not think evil of you, dear sir, keep the paper, I make you a gift +of it." Beckmesser leaps in the air with incredulous joy: "Lord +God! A poem of Sachs's!... But soft, that I may not be led into +fresh troubles. You have, no doubt," he insinuates, "committed the +thing perfectly to memory?"--"Have no uneasiness with regard to +that."--"You bestow the sheet on me then outright?"--"To prevent +you being a thief."--"And suppose I made use of it?"--"You may +do as you please."--"I may sing it, then?"--"If it is not too +difficult."--"And if I should please my audience?"--"I should be +greatly astonished!"--Beckmesser misses the sly shoester's intention. +"You are too modest altogether," he says; and goes on to explain in +what dire need he stands of a new composition, since the song sung +the night before as a serenade can have no chance, if sung again +to-day, of charming the Pognerin, for whom it must be associated, +thanks to the cobbler's merry jests, with every undignified +circumstance. And how can he, poor belaboured wretch, find the +necessary peace of mind to compose a new one? Yet, if he have not +a new song, he must give up the hope of marriage. But a song of +Sachs's would enable him to overcome every obstacle; if he may +have it, let all the disagreements which have kept them apart be +forgotten and buried. But,--he suddenly holds in, and puckers his +forehead,--if this were a trap? "Even so late as yesterday," he says +to Sachs, "you were my enemy. How is it that after all the troubles +between us you are to-day kindly disposed toward me?"--"I worked on +your shoes until late at night," Sachs disingenuously replies; "is +that the sort of consideration one shows an enemy?"--"True, true. +But now give me your word. Whenever and under whatever circumstances +you hear that song, you will never by any chance say that it is of +your composing."--"I give you my word and oath," Sachs assents, with +a spice of wicked glee, "that I will never boast of that song being +mine."--Beckmesser's spirits rise to heights of mad exhilaration. +"What more do I want? I am saved! Beckmesser need trouble no +further!"--"Friend," Sachs warns him, "in all kindness I advise +you, study that song carefully. It is of no easy execution."--"Friend +Sachs," Beckmesser waives the warning, "you are a good poet, but +in all that relates to tones and tunes there is no one goes ahead +of me. But now, quickly home, to learn the thing by heart. Hans +Sachs, my dear fellow, I have misunderstood you. My judgment was +thrown off the track by that adventurer. Just such a one was needed! +But we masters made short work of him! Good-bye! I must be off! +Elsewhere will I show my gratitude for your sweet friendliness. I +will vote for you hereafter, I will buy your works. I will make +you Marker!" Effusively he embraces him: "Marker, Marker, Marker +Hans Sachs!" + +Hans Sachs looks after the departing figure with a meditative smile. +"So entirely ill-natured have I never yet found any one. He cannot +fail to come to grief of some sort. Many there be who squander +their wits, but they reserve enough to keep house with. The hour +of weakness comes for each one of us, when he turns fool and is +open to parley." So entirely ill-natured Beckmesser has been found +that Sachs feels no compunction at letting him run into the pitfall +gaping ahead. He is willing to win an advantage by a deception, +let him follow his head, why should honest Sachs be tender of him? +The joke is not severe beyond his deserts. He has candidly rejoiced +that short work was made of that adventurer, Von Stolzing; why +should he not be permitted to encounter the same sort of treatment? +Why indeed should not his dishonesty be turned to use? "That Master +Beckmesser here turned thief," reflects Sachs, "falls in excellently +with my plan." + +Eva appears in the doorway, Eva dazzling in her white wedding-dress. +"I was wondering," says Sachs to himself at sight of her, "where +she could be!" For, as Walther was known to be in the house, it +was thought she must before long find some pretext to stand beneath +the same roof. She wears a little languid air; last evening was a +sore trial to young nerves. A tinge of accusing plaintiveness is in +her voice. She is markedly abstracted; her thoughts are wandering, +of course, all about the house in search of _him_. She has her +pretext ready, and meets Sachs's warm compliment upon her appearance +with a reproachful: "Ah, master! So long as the tailor has done +his work successfully, who ever will divine where I suffer +inconvenience, where secretly my shoe pinches me?"--"The wicked +shoe!" Sachs is for a moment really deceived; "It was your humour +yesterday not to try it on."--"You see? I had too much confidence. +I was mistaken in the master."--"I am sorry, indeed I am!" He is +on his knee at once: "Let me look at it, my child, that I may help +you, right off, quick!"--"As soon as I stand on it, it obliges +me to go; and as soon as I go, it obliges me to stand."--"Place +your foot here on the stool, I will remedy the evil at once. Now, +what is wrong with it?"--"You can see, it is too wide!"--"Child, +that is pure vanity. The shoe is snug."--"That is what I said, +and that is why it pinches my toes."--"Here, at the left?"--"No, +the right."--"At the instep?"--"No, the heel."--"What?" he asks +incredulously, "Something wrong too with the heel?"--"_Ach_, master," +she exclaims, "do you know better than I where my shoe pinches +me?"--"I can only wonder," he replies, good-humouredly, "that your +shoe should be loose and yet pinch you everywhere!" The door of +the inner room opens at this moment, and Walther stands upon the +threshold in the rich gala costume of a young noble. Eva at sight of +him in his splendour utters a cry, and remains spell-bound, gazing. +He stops short in the doorway, spell-bound equally at sight of her +in her shimmering bride's-robe of white,--and from their eyes, fixed +unwaveringly upon each other, their hearts travel forth on luminous +beams to meet and mingle. Sachs's back is toward Walther; he has +not see him, but the tell-tale light on Eva's face, reflection +of a sun-burst, has reported to him of the apparition. He pretends +not to see. "Aha! Here is the trouble!" he speaks, as if nothing +were; "Now I see what the matter is! Child, you were right, the +seams are stiff. Just wait and I will set the matter aright. Stay +where you are, I will take the shoe and put it on the last for a +minute. After that it will give you no further trouble." He draws +the shoe tenderly from her childish foot, and leaves her standing, +statue-still, lost in her trance of contemplation, with her foot +on the stool, while he takes the shoe to his bench and pretends to +work at it. He cannot forbear,--while he plays his little comedy, +and those two angelically beautiful beings, saved and aided by him, +between whom he shares his big heart, stand hushed, drinking, in +oblivion of all, the heavenly nectar of each other's glances,--he +cannot forbear teasing the little lady a bit, giving her a little +lesson, taking a very mild vengeance on her for the faintly perfidious +wiles of yesterday. So he runs on, while making himself busy with +her shoe: "Forever to be cobbling! That is my fate. Night nor day, +no deliverance for me! Child, listen! I have thought over what +shall bring my shoe-making to an end. The best thing I can do will +be after all to enter the contest for your hand. I might thus at +least win something for myself as a poet!... You are not listening? +Yet it was yourself put the idea in my head.... Oh, very well! I +see! Attend to your shoes! If at least," he slyly suggests, without +turning, "some one would sing to me while I work! I heard to-day a +regularly beautiful song. If just a third verse, equally successful, +might be added to it!" Like the hypnotised receiving a suggestion, +Walther, ready as a bird, breaks forth singing, his gaze never +swerving from Eva: "Did the stars come to a pause in their charming +dance? Light and clear, above the clustering locks of the most +beautiful of all women, glittered with soft brilliancy a crown of +stars..." + +"Listen, child," Sachs bids Eva, in the short pause between the +verses, "that is a master-song!" + +"Miracle upon miracle! A double radiance of day now illumines me, +for, even as two suns of purest delight, two divinely beautiful +eyes bend their light upon me...." + +"That," says Sachs, "is the sort of thing you hear sung in my house +nowadays!" + +"Oh, gracious vision which my heart found boldness to approach! +The wreath, which in the rays of the twin suns shows pale at once +and green, tenderly and mildly she weaves about the consort's head. +Into the breast of the poet--born erst to joy, now elect to +glory,--Paradisal joy she pours, in Love's dream!" + +Sachs has been enabled to keep in hand his emotion at the sound +of the ecstatic song by diligently busying himself with the shoe, +uttering at intervals small insignificant remarks: "Let us see, +now, whether I have got my shoe aright. I believe I have finally +succeeded, eh? Try it, now!" He has slipped it on to her foot, +"Walk on it! Tell me, does it still hurt?" But Eva, who has stood +breathlessly gazing and listening to the thrilling accents, new +to her, of her lover, when the heart-searching voice is silent +and the tension relaxes, bursts into passionate weeping, sinks on +Sachs's breast and clings to him, sobbing. Walther with a quick +stride is beside them; impulsively he grasps the hand of the good +Sachs, to whom he dimly feels he owes so much,--to whom he owes +really more than he dreams. + +For a moment not one of them can speak. Then it becomes too much +for Sachs, this soft beloved form trembling against his breast; +he gently frees himself and allows the burden he relinquishes to +slide upon the shoulder of Walther. Like a noble dog shaking his +fur, he takes himself away and finds occupation at the further end +of the room, trying by his commonplace playful talk to dispel the +oppression of a too great emotion. Again he must, all for her good, +tease Evchen a bit. "Has not a shoe-maker his fill of troubles?" he +grumbles; "Were I not at the same time a poet, not another shoe +would I make. So much hard work, such a perpetual calling upon +you! This one's shoe is too loose, that one's too tight, here it +claps, it hangs at the heel, there it presses, it pinches. The +shoe-maker must know everything, mend everything that is torn, +and if he be in addition a poet, then verily he is not allowed a +moment's peace. But if, on top of all, he be a widower, then he +is in all truth regarded as a very fool! The youngest of maidens, +if a husband is wanted, request him to apply for them; let him +understand them or let him not, it is all the same; let him say +yes, let him say no, in the end he is told that he smells of pitch, +and is called stupid, cantankerous, and impertinent! I wouldn't +care so much," he concludes humourously, "but for my apprentice. +He is losing all respect for me!..." + +The conscience-smitten girl flings her arms around him again: "Oh, +Sachs, my friend, oh, noble heart, how can I ever repay you? Without +your love, what were I? What were I, without you? I should have +remained a child forever, had you not awakened me. Through you I +won the things one prizes, through you I learned what a soul is. +Through you I awoke, through you alone I learned to think nobly, +freely, courageously. You guided my growth, and brought me to flowering. +Oh, dear master, scold me, well you may!... But yet I was on the +right track. For, had I any choice, you, no other, should be my +husband. I would hold out the prize to you alone. As it is, I myself +have been chosen--to never-before-dreamed-of torment! And if this +day I am wedded, it will be without choice of my own. Coercion I +have suffered, have suffered violence. You know, master, that the +force of it frightened even you!"--"My child," he replies, mildly, +collectedly--if feelingly and a little sadly, to her impulsive +confession, while a known, poignant strain, like a profound sigh, +holds the ear for a moment, an echo from a different opera, "of +Tristan and Isolde I know the sorrowful story. Hans Sachs was shrewd +and would have none of King Mark's happiness!" With a return to the +lightness which is his policy of the moment, he adds, lest emotion +too far unnerve them all: "Full time it was that the right one should +appear, or I should after all have run into the snare!... Aha! +There comes Lene looking for you. Hey, David, aren't you coming?" +Nurse and apprentice enter, one from outside and one from within, +in their holiday garments. + +"The witnesses are here, the sponsors present, now quickly to the +christening! Take your places!" Sachs directs. All look at him +in wonder. He lays before them his idea of giving, with proper +ceremony, a name to the master-song born in his house. It is a +poet's fancy, an act of tender superstition on Sachs's part, a +form by which he tries to lay a helpful charm or blessing upon the +new-born creation on which so much depends; send it forth equipped +as well as possible with spiritual arms, that it may, as he says, +"grow great without harm or mishap." The young melody's father, +of course, is Walther; the Pognerin and he, Sachs, will stand its +sponsors; Lene and David shall be witnesses. But as an apprentice +is not a proper witness, David is promoted with the rite of a smart +box on the ear from apprentice to journeyman. Sachs suggests as +the name of the new-born: Song of Interpretation of the Blissful +Morning-Dream, and the young godmother is requested to speak appropriate +words over it. The point of what follows is hardly in Eva's words, +pretty as they are; the point is that one of the most extraordinary +quintets that ever charmed human ear serves as baptismal send-off +to the infant melody. + +Each of the five singing together expresses, according to custom +in concerted pieces, the aspect which the common subject, or the +hour, has for him. And so dear Sachs, while Eva and Walther rejoice +on their side, and David and Lene--to whom the apprentice's promotion +opens vistas of mastership and marriage,--rejoice on theirs, Sachs, +adding a less glad but more serene voice to the glorious sheaf +of song, reveals his heart,--with no one to listen, for all are +singing. "Full fain"--he sighs, "Full fain had I been to sing before +the winsome child, but need was that I should place restraint upon +the sweet disorderly motions of the heart. A lovely evening dream it +was, hardly dare I to think upon it...." But the wreath of immortal +youth shall be the poet's reward. Impertinent to pity the sturdy +Sachs, who has his poetry and his strong heart. And he has at all +moments been wiser than his lovely evening dream. There has been +really no renunciation on his part, for he had never allowed himself +any serious parleying with the tender temptation. Not for an instant +does he present himself as a sentimental figure; but the generosity +with which he employs himself to secure for others the happiness +which, though in his good sense he had denied it to himself, his +heart had yet caressed in its alluring evening dream, makes him +a magnanimous one. + +It is time when they have finished to start for the seat of the +Saint John's Day celebration. Sachs sends Eva home to her father, +orders David to close the shop, and starts along with Walther. + +While the curtain is lowered for the change of scene, one of those +musical transformations takes place of which there are several +instances in these operas. With elements we know, new elements +begin to mingle; the old are withdrawn, and presently, musically, +as ocularly, the scene is changed. We behold a green meadow on +the banks of the Pegnitz; in the distance, the city of Nuremberg. +The place is decorated for holiday. There is a great stand for +the master-singers and judges in the song-contest. Crowds of +holiday-makers are on the spot already, more still arrive by the +river in bright boats. The various guilds march in procession with +their respective insignia, shoe-makers, tailors, bakers. Apprentices +and young girls dance together to a measure daintily gay as their +fluttering ribbon-knots. Conspicuous among them is David, so forgetful +for the moment of Lene and himself as to imprint a glowing kiss on +his partner's cheek. Frivolities stop short with the arrival of +the masters. These assemble to the sound of what we will call their +unofficial march; then, to their great march, they walk to their +places on the stand, Kothner waving the banner of the guild, and the +people acclaiming. Pogner escorts Eva to the seat of honour. When +all are in their places, a corps of young apprentices, filling the +function to-day of heralds, and carrying staffs of office liberally +be flowered, call out in Latin the order for silence. Quiet being +established, Sachs, spokesman for the occasion, rises. At once +the silence is shattered by cheers for the popular poet, cries +of joy at sight of him; there is waving of kerchiefs and hats. To +show how every one knows and loves his songs, the people entone +one of them all together and sing it jubilantly through; and "Long +live Sachs!" they shout, "Hans Sachs! Long live Nuremberg's beloved +Hans Sachs!" It is too much for poet to experience unmoved, and +Sachs's voice, when the people quiet down at last, to listen, only +gradually regains its manly firmness. "You ease your own hearts +and burden mine, in offering me, unworthy, too great honour. If I +am not to sink crushed beneath it, let it be in the thought that +it is the gift of your love. Great honour already has fallen to +my portion to-day, in that I have been elected to the dignity of +spokesman. And the announcement which I have to make to you, believe +me, is full of high honour!" He imparts to them Pogner's project, +but with these important modifications or omissions,--and it is they +which constitute the stroke Sachs has been preparing. No mention +whatever is made of the limitations determined upon by the masters +at the last meeting: that the singers contending must be members +of the guild, and that the masters exclusively shall be judges. +So the offer stands: A lovely girl and a rich inheritance shall +be the portion of the singer who before the assembled people shall +carry off the prize,--awarded, one naturally understands, since +nothing different is stated, by popular acclamation. Free candidature, +therefore popular election! And Sachs so presents the thing that the +masters cannot very well object, if even they had the courage to +chance the awkwardness of a public scene; they can hardly claim it +is not fair that they, presumably superior in song to non-masters, +should accept the contest on the same terms. Sachs's peculiar audacity +has lain in his taking the risk of a perfectly justified revolt on +the part of the masters against his high-handed proceeding; he +has counted on the restraining effect of the public occasion; has +counted on luck, which proverbially follows the bold. High-handed, +his course, undeniably, but too much was at stake for any narrow +consideration to hold back Sachs: the happiness of Eva,--of, as he +says, at the conclusion of his announcement, "the amiable stainless +one, who must never be made to regret that Nuremberg holds in such +honour art and its professors!" Hearty applause follows his words. +Pogner grasps his hand, moved, infinitely relieved. "Oh, Sachs, +my friend, what thanks do I owe you! How did you know what was +weighing on my heart?"--"Much was staked upon that cast," replies +Sachs; "now pluck up heart!" + +He catches sight of Beckmesser, who ever since arriving with the rest +of the masters has been feverishly studying his bit of music-sheet, +at intervals wiping the desperate sweat from his brow. "Mr. Marker, +how are you getting on?"--"Oh, this song!" groans the Marker, "I +cannot make head or tail of it, and I have worked over it, in all +truth, hard enough!" Sachs shows him, if he but knew it, a way +of escape. "My friend, you are not obliged to use it."--"What is +the good? My own song, through your fault, is done for. Now be a +kind dear fellow, it would be abominable of you to leave me in the +lurch."--"It is my opinion that you had better give it up."--"Give +it up?... Well, hardly! I can easily beat all the others, if only +you will not sing. I am certain that no one will understand the +song, but I am building upon your popularity." + +Sachs abandons him to his fate, and declares the song-contest open. +Kothner summons the contestants, "And let the oldest," he calls, +"come first. Master Beckmesser, pray begin. We are late!" + +The little heralds have piled up grassy sods into a sort of pedestal +for the singers to stand on. They lead Beckmesser to this. He stumbles +in going, and can hardly from nervousness keep his balance on the +none too secure elevation. The common people begin to titter. Murmurs +fly from one to the other: "What? That one? That is one of the +suitors? Why, he can't even walk!... Keep quiet! He is an eminent +master! He is the town-clerk.... Lord, what a muff! He is toppling +over!... Be still, and stop your jokes; he has a seat and a voice +in the committee!..."--"_Silentium! Silentium!_" calls the chorus +of little heralds. And Kothner: "Begin!" Beckmesser, after bowing +to the queen of the day and to the assembly, gives forth, haltingly, +Walther's song as he remembers it, as it has become with passing +through the medium of his mind. What he utters, with many an anxious +peep at the crumpled manuscript, is nonsense of the most ludicrous. +For every word he substitutes another of distantly the same sound, +but different meaning, betraying how he has not understood a syllable. +The melody, if so were he had mastered it, has completely dropped +from his mind, and what he sings to the eccentric words is his own +serenade, but perverted by the interference of the alien influence. + +The masters at the end of the first verse look at one another, +mystified. "What is that? Has he lost his senses? An extraordinary +case! Do our ears deceive us?" The people giggle and make remarks, +not too loud as yet. + +At the end of the second verse, the masters inquire of one another, +"What does it mean? Has he gone mad? His song is one piece of nonsense!" +while the people giggle louder and make remarks less and less +respectful. + +At the end of the third verse, populace and masters burst into +peals of laughter. Beckmesser descends from his pedestal and hurls +himself raging at Sachs. "Accursed cobbler! To you I owe this!--The +song is none of mine," he excitedly informs the rest. "Sachs here, +whom you honour so, your Sachs gave me the song. The scandalous +wretch compelled me to sing it, he foisted off his miserable song +on me!" He dashes the sorry-looking manuscript at Sachs's feet, +and rushes off like one pursued by a nest of hornets. + +Amazement reigns among master-singers and people: "A song of Sachs's? +The matter grows more and more astonishing! The song is yours? Be +so good, Sachs, as to explain!" Sachs has picked up and smoothed +out the crumpled page. "The song, as a matter of truth, is not +of my composing. Herr Beckmesser is mistaken, in this respect as +in others. How he obtained it let him tell you himself. But never +should I be audacious to the point of boasting that so fine a song +had been written by me, Hans Sachs."--"What?... Fine?... That crazy +rubbish? Sachs is joking! He says that in fun!"--"I declare to +you, gentlemen, that the song is beautiful. But it is obvious at +a single glance that Master Beckmesser misrepresents it. I swear +to you, however, that you would hear it with delight were one to +sing it in this circle correctly as to word and melody. And one +who should be able to do this would by that fact sufficiently prove +that he is the author of the song, and that in all justice, if +he found just judges, he would be called a master. I have been +accused and must defend myself. Let me therefore summon a witness. +If any one is present who knows that right is on my side, let him +come forward as a witness before this assembly." + +Quietly and quickly, with his proudly-borne head and his light +proud step, Walther advances. A murmur of pleasure runs through +the assembly at sight of him, in his resplendent clothes and plumed +hat. The good populace on whom Sachs had counted do not disappoint +him: the gallant young figure finds instantaneous favour. "A proper +witness, handsome and spirited," they comment, "from whom something +proper may be expected!" The master-singers are not slow to recognise +the intruder of yesterday, and to grasp the situation. They accept +it good-humouredly enough, with artistic appreciation, no doubt, +of Sachs's well managed _coup de theatre_. "Ah, Sachs, confess +that you are a sly one! But, for this once, have your way!" + +"Masters and people are agreed to try the worth of my witness," +Sachs announces; "Herr Walther von Stolzing, sing the song. And you, +masters, see if he render it aright." He hands them the manuscript. + +Walther takes his stand on the flowery mound and starts singing +the song we know already. Presently however, the song lifts him +away, and he alters, as with that power of inspiration behind him +how could he help?--he amplifies, makes more beautiful still. But by +that time the masters have become so interested that they withdraw +their attention from the manuscript, and follow enthralled the +voice of the singer alone. + +The song is in its final effect considerably different from the +original one, being the fruit of the moment, like Walther's other +improvisations. It preserves, however, both in text and tune, a +sufficient likeness to the first to prove it of an identical source. +It is the same dream he tells, but expressed in different images. + +In a blessed love-dream, he had been led to a garden where, beneath +a miraculous tree, he had beheld--vision promising fulfilment to +love's wildest desire!--a woman of all-surpassing beauty: Eve, +in the garden of Paradise.... + +In a poet's waking dream, he had been lured by the crystal murmur +of a spring up a steep path. There, beneath a laurel-tree, he had +beheld--and from her hand had received upon his brow water from +the sacred fount,--a woman of a beauty grave and sublime: the Muse +of Parnassus.... + +There is no doubt of the impression the song produces upon the +audience. As he pauses between the verses, Walther cannot but seize +their irrepressible exclamations. "That is a very different matter! +Who would have thought it?" The people surrender heart-wholly. +"How it soars,--so sweet, so far from earth, and yet it is all as +if one had lived through it himself!"--"It is bold and unusual, +but well-rhymed and singable!" the masters admit. The circumstances +of this hearing are different enough from yesterday's. The infection +of Beckmesser's jealous spite is wanting; softening influences +are in the lovely scene, the poetic occasion. The pure ecstasy of +the song has a chance to work its spell, to transport them outside +of their limitations. They are honourable men, as Sachs assured +Walther; they have no _parti pris_ of bolts and shutters against +the New; on occasion they can be generous. "Yes, yes, I see, it +is quite another thing," they say, "when it is sung aright!" + +Sure of victory, already triumphant, Walther leaps to the goal: +"Oh, day most rich in blessing, on which I awake from my dream! The +Paradise I saw in sleep lies before me in intensified splendour. +The murmuring spring lures me along the way which leads to it,--and +the One whose home is there, the elect of my heart, the loveliest +of earth, my muse and inspiration, as holy and high as she is fair, +I have boldly wooed her,--I have won, by the bright light of day, +through the victory of song, both Parnassus and Paradise!" + +Before the last note has died, all are clamouring together, awarding +to Walther the master-prize. "Reach him the wreath! There is no lover +or singer like him!" And then Walther's exquisite morning-dream +comes true. He kneels before the woman more graciously beautiful +than any he had ever seen, while, bending upon him eyes luminous +with joy as twin suns, she places upon his head the wreath of laurel +and myrtle, the poet's and lover's crown. + +Pogner wrings Sachs's hand. "Oh, Sachs, to you I owe happiness +and honour!" He draws a sigh of immense well-being. "Lifted is the +weight from my heart!" + +There are congratulations and rejoicings. In the general glow of +good-humour, voices of master-singers call out to Pogner: "Up Master +Pogner, and announce to his lordship his admission to the master-guild!" +Pogner takes the decoration of the order, the gold chain with the +three medallions, and with the words, "I receive you into the +master-guild," is casting it over the victorious singer's head, +when Walther starts back, as from something of horridly unpleasant +association, and makes a gesture of uncompromising refusal. "Not +a master, no!... I mean to be happy without that title!" + +An uncomfortable silence follows upon the hard snub. All look toward +Sachs, whose face has clouded over with pain. He walks to Walther, +and seizing him by the hand, as one might a child, to bring it to +reason, vigorously speaks the defence of the order to which he +belongs. "Despise not the masters, but, rather, honour their art. +The great good you have this day received speaks loud in their +praise. Not to your ancestors, however great, not to your coat of +arms, your spear or sword, but to the fact that you are a singer, +that you have proved yourself a master, you owe to-day your highest +happiness. If then you apply to the question a grateful mind: how +can that art be of no account which holds such prizes? That our +masters cared for it in their own way, that according to their +lights they were faithful to it, that is what has preserved it. +Though it no longer is aristocratic, as in the times when it was +fostered by princes and courts, yet despite the stress of evil +years it has remained German, it has remained sincere. And if it had +prospered nowhere but among us, with our burdens and restrictions, +you can see in what honour it is held here. What more do you require +of the masters?... Have a care! Evil contingencies threaten! Should +the day come when the German people and kingdom fall asunder, its +princes, seduced by false outlandish splendours, would soon no +longer understand the language of their own people, and outlandish +error, outlandish vanities, would be sown by them in German soil. +In that day, should it come, no one would know any longer what +is German and genuine, did it not survive by grace of the German +masters! Then honour the German masters! By that spell shall you +command good genii! And if you second them by your favour, holy +Rome may pass away in smoke: we shall still have our holy German +art!" + +Nobly and contritely Walther bows his head, and Sachs hangs about +his neck the collar of the guild. Eva, fired, takes from her lover's +fair curls the laurel-wreath, and presses it upon the grisled head +of the master. He stands radiant between the two whose happiness +is his work. The populace wave their hats and kerchiefs, cheering, +"Hail, Sachs! Hans Sachs! Hail Nuremberg's beloved Hans Sachs!" + + +One cannot help imagining, in "Meistersinger," a fragment of +autobiography, a recollection of days when Wagner must have heard +on all sides concerning his work what we still occasionally hear, +such words as he puts into the mouth of Beckmesser: "_Kein Absatz +wo, kein' Coloratur! Von Melodei auch nicht eine Spur!_" No pause +anywhere for breath! No appropriate colouring! Of melody not the +remotest trace! + +No pause anywhere for breath! The headlong rush it has of genius. +No appropriate colouring! The colouring happens merely to be new. +Of melody not the remotest trace,--when in this opera particularly +the composer casts melodies up in the air like golden balls and +juggles with them; when, like a conjurer, he goes on taking fresh +roses in absurd abundance out of a horn that should naturally have +been ten times empty! + +If we may translate the personages of this delicious play into +types, Walther must stand for the poet and singer by God's grace, +fresh young Genius, winged bringer of a new message. Beckmesser +for Old School, where it has become fossil, where forms moulded +on life have become void and dry, and rules are held sufficient +without breath of inspiration. Nay, inspiration, which jostles and +disturbs rule, is regarded with suspicion. Inspiration to Beckmesser +is as much an intruder as would be Saint Francis coming to visit +some Prior of his own order long after the spirit animating the +saint had been hardened into forms. Hans Sachs, then, is a sort +of Ideal Critic, with affection and allegiance toward the past, +but with a fair and open mind toward the new. Walther himself could +have no more admirable attitude, more perfect temper, toward Art, +than Sachs. It is only to be hoped that in his maturity he was +as tolerant and broad-minded. + +The wise, the gentle Sachs! It is a pity that in listening to an +opera one hears so little of the words, for there fall from his +genial lips precepts which it would be really worth while to impress +upon the memory, among which could there be a more golden than his +word to critics: "When you find that you are trying to measure +by your own rules that which does not lie within the compass of +your rules, the thing to do is to forget your rules and try to +discover the rules of that which you wish to measure!". + + +TRISTAN AND ISOLDE + + +TRISTAN AND ISOLDE + +I + +The Ouverture to Tristan and Isolde is singularly calculated to +create the mood in which the Opera needs to be heard. It discourses +of nothing but love. It is long, it knocks and presses upon chords +lying abysmally below thought, until these vibrate in response,--and +the curtain goes up before an almost helplessly sympathetic listener. + +Chief among the emotions expressed in this harmonious setting-forth +of the argument,--rich in sighs, glances, caresses,--is certain +tragic yearning, which seems of the very essence of love, the love +in question; tragic, because it is a thirst which from the nature of +things admits of no satisfaction upon the earth we know, since its +demand is no less than fusion of one soul and flesh into another, +so that each is completely possessed and neither knows any more which +of the two he is; the condition we hear the lovers sigh for later on +their bank of flowers in the warm summer night: "I," says the man, +"shall be Isolde, you will be Tristan."--"I shall be Tristan," the +woman says, "and you Isolde." Nay, there shall be no more Tristan, +no more Isolde, but nameless, indivisible, possessed of a single +consciousness, they shall float in an eternal night of love to +ever-new recognitions, ever-new ardours.... + +The story belongs to the period of King Arthur and his Round Table. +At that time Cornwall, we learn, was subject to Ireland, to the +extent at least of owing tribute. But the subject country, with +increase of power, had become impatient of the tax, and, when the +Irish hero Morold was sent to collect it, a knight of the Cornish +court, Tristan, fought and slew him, and in lieu of the exacted +tribute sent back his head to Ireland. + +Tristan had not come forth unhurt from the combat in which Morold +had fallen. With the peculiar daring which earned him the fame of +"hero without equal, wonder of all nations," he took the wound +of which he was dying to the country of the enemy, to the very +castle of the Irish King whose daughter Isolde's affianced he had +slain. For Isolde was renowned for her skill in the art of medicine. +The Queen, her mother, possessed even rarer secrets of magic. In a +small skiff, almost unattended, Tristan, obscuring his glory under +the name of Tantris, came to Isolde to be healed. The high-born +physician gave him faithful care. No one suspected him, until Isolde, +remarking a trifling notch in his sword, made the discovery that +a steel splinter which she had removed from the severed head of +Morold fitted it. This man, then, completely in her power, was +Tristan, the enemy of her land, the slayer of her betrothed. The +duty of a princess of the time was clear. She caught up the sword +and approached his bed with the intention of avenging Morold's +death. But the wounded man unclosed his eyes, and glancing past +the sword, past the hand which brandished it, looked into her eyes. +And, inexplicably, she could not proceed; pity moved her, she let +the sword sink. She kept the secret of his identity. She applied +herself more than ever diligently to heal him, "that he might betake +himself home, and burden her no more with the look of his eyes." +He went at last with professions of eternal gratitude. The least +he could have done, in accordance with these, so it seemed to her, +was to preserve silence as she had preserved it, to let the incident +have no more result than as if oblivion had engulfed it. Instead of +which, behold before long Tristan arriving in his own resplendent +person, with an embassy of Cornish nobles, to arrange peace between +the two countries and obtain the hand of the Irish king's daughter +for the Cornish sovereign, Mark, his uncle. + +Now the Irish, being, as we gather, at a disadvantage in any match +of force with the insolent tributaries who had cast off their yoke, +could not well refuse,--could not afford to give offence by refusing. +The alliance was in truth a splendid one,--were it not for that old +unavenged affront! Even as matters stood, the proposal admitted of +being looked upon in the light of reparation,--if one did not see +in it, as did one of the principal personages involved, a second +insult more intolerable than the first. + +The Cornish suit was successful. The feud was publicly declared +at an end, and peace sworn to. The heiress of the Irish crown set +sail for Cornwall under the escort of Tristan. + +The curtain rising shows the rich pavilion on ship-deck where Isolde +hides her face from the light against the cushions of a day-bed. +Her attendant, Brangaene, stands gazing over the ship-side. The +voice of a young sailor is heard from the rigging out of sight. +Now, though the Cornish diplomats have comported themselves during +their mission with delicacy, the crew accompanying them take less +trouble to conceal the glee they feel over the humiliation of their +former lords, signified in this present carrying off of Ireland's +proudest jewel. Isolde, spite of all courteous forms, is regarded +by them as, in a sense, a prize of war. Some hint of this appears +in the song of the young seaman, who permits himself references +to the "wild and lovely Irish maid," and asks whether they be her +sighs which swell his sail. The words penetrate through Isolde's +absorption; she starts up in sudden fury, crying: "Who dares to +mock me?" and looks wildly around, as if she had been so engrossed +in other scenes that she did not, on returning to the light of day, +know for a moment where she was. Then she recognises Brangaene, and +remembers, and inquires where they are. "Streaks of blue are rising up +out of the West," Brangaene describes what she is watching, "softly +and swiftly sails the ship; on a calm sea before evening we surely +shall reach the land."--"What land?" Isolde asks unexpectedly. "The +verdant coast of Cornwall."--"Nevermore!" bursts from the princess, +"Not to-day! Not to-morrow!" + +Brangaene hurries to her, alarmed and wondering at the hurricane +of passion she now lets loose,--calling upon the arts of magic to +restore to her the lost power of commanding sea and storm, calling +upon the winds and waves to wreck this insolent ship and drown +everyone upon it! Brangaene stands aghast. What she had but dimly +apprehended, then, was true. She clings to her mistress, endeavouring +to calm her. "What, dear heart, have you so long been concealing from +me? Not one tear did you shed at parting from father and mother. +Hardly a word of farewell did you speak to those remaining behind. +Coldly and dumbly you left the land of home; pale and silent you +have been on the voyage, taking no food, taking no sleep, deeply +troubled, rigid and wretched,--how am I to endure to see you thus, +to be nothing to you, to stand before you as a stranger? Oh, tell +me what troubles you! Tell me, make known to me what is torturing +you! If she is to think herself in any measure dear to you, confide +now in Brangaene!" The unhappy Isolde, suffocating, gasps for air: +"Air!... Air!... My heart is smothering!... Open! Open wide!" Brangaene +hurriedly draws apart the tapestries which form the wall of the +apartment at the back. The deck of the ship is seen from mainmast +to stern; sailors busy with ropes, groups of knights and their +esquires lounging. Tristan stands apart from the rest, with folded +arms, staring abstractedly over the water. His servant Kurwenal +lies idly outstretched at his feet. Isolde's eyes at once find +the half-averted figure; her absorption in it becomes equal to +his in the unknown object of the thoughts engrossing him. She does +not hear this time the sailor at the topmast singing over again +the song she had before resented; "O Irish maid, where tarriest +thou? Is it the force of thy sighs which fills my sails?" Slow, +involuntary, words drop from her lips, her inmost thoughts speaking +to herself, while her eyes brood gloomily upon the unconscious +head. "Mine elected,--lost to me! Lofty and beautiful,--brave and +craven! Death-devoted head! Death-devoted heart!" Starting awake +at the ring of her own words, she laughs unpleasantly and, turning +to Brangaene: "What do you think of the lackey yonder?" Brangaene's +glance follows Isolde's. She does not understand. "Whom do you +mean?"--"The hero over there who averts his glance from mine, who +in shame and embarassment gazes away from me. Tell me, how does +he impress you?"--"Are you inquiring, my dear lady," Brangaene +asks in wonder, "of Tristan, the marvel of all nations, the man +of exalted renown, the hero without equal, honour's treasure and +vaunt?" Isolde catches up her tone, to continue in scornful mimicry: +"Who terrified at his own achievement flies to refuge wherever he +can, having won for his master a corpse to bride?... Is my saying +dark to you? Go then and ask himself, the presumably free man, +whether he dare to venture near me? All forms of reverence and +considerate service he forgets toward his sovereign mistress, the +shrinking hero, that of all things her glance may not light on +him.... Oh, he no doubt knows why!" Suddenly overmastered by an +impulse of her too-long controlled rancour: "Go to the haughty +one," she orders Brangaene, "bear to him this message from his +lady: Let him come into my presence forthwith, prepared to do my +command."--"Am I to bid him come and offer his duty?" Brangaene +timidly interprets. "Nay," Isolde storms, "let the self-sufficient +one be warned to fear the mistress! That do I bid him, I, Isolde!" + +Fixedly she watches the attendant moving along the deck, past the +sailors at their work, toward the solitary figure of the knight. +She watches the two fixedly while their interview lasts. + +Kurwenal, catching sight of the woman approaching, tugs at his +master's mantle: "Attention, Tristan! Message from Isolde!" Tristan's +start suggests how complete his abstraction, and what the effect +of that name unexpectedly pronounced. _As Brangaene comes before +him_, the stage-directions say, _he rapidly composes himself_. +Deferently he inquires of his lady's wishes. Bragaene tells him, +barely, that her lady wishes to see him. Then begins the series of +his evasions, courteous as possible, but determined as courteous. +"If she be weary of the long voyage, that is nigh ended. Before +sunset we shall touch land. Whatsoever orders my lady have for +me shall be faithfully carried out." Brangaene repeats the order: +"Let Sir Tristan then go to her, such is our lady's will."--"Yonder +where the green meadows are still coloured blue to the eye, my +king awaits my lady. That I may escort her to him, soon will I +approach the Bright One. To none would I yield the privilege." +The maid repeats, still patiently: "Tristan, my lord, listen and +attend: My lady requests your service,--that you should betake +yourself to the place where she awaits you."--"At what place soever +I be found, faithfully do I serve her, to the greater honour of +women. If I should forsake the helm at this moment, how could I +safely guide the keel to King Mark's land?" Brangaene's temper +flashes a faint reflection of Isolde's fire. "Tristan, my lord, +are you mocking me? If the stupid handmaid cannot make her meaning +clear to you, hear my mistress's own words. This she bade me say: +Be warned, a self-sufficient one, to fear the mistress! That is +her behest,--Isolde's!" Without giving Tristan time to hesitate, +Kurwenal jumps up: "May I frame an answer?"--"What would your answer +be?" Tristan asks, for the moment at a loss. And Kurwenal, very +loud, that his words may not fail to reach Isolde's ears: "This +say to Madam Isolde: That he who made over to the maid of Ireland +the crown of Cornwall and the inheritance of England cannot be the +chattel of that same maid, presented by himself to his uncle. A +lord of the world,--Tristan, the hero! I cry it aloud and do you +report my words, though they should bring upon me the wrath of a +thousand Madam Isoldes!" Tristan has vainly tried to silence him. +As Brangaene indignantly hastens away, the irrepressible servant +sings after her at the top of his voice a mocking fragment of ballad, +popular no doubt in Cornwall: "Lord Morold came over the sea to +Cornwall to collect tribute. An island floats in a lonely sea, +there he now lies buried. His head, however, hangs in Ireland, the +tribute paid by England. Hurrah for our lord Tristan! What a one +is he to pay tribute!" Tristan drives the fellow off, orders him +below. But the whole crew have taken up the last lines of the song +and shout them with a will. Brangaene drags together the curtains, +shutting from sight the cruel rabble. Isolde, who has with difficulty +controlled herself, seems on the point of an outburst, but she +quells it, and in the restored silence asks with forced composure: +"But now, about Tristan?--I wish to be told exactly." Brangaene, +at first unwilling, reports the interview. When she has finished, +Isolde, whose anger has made room for a sorrowful intense dejection, +reveals to her what explains the humour, to her so far inexplicable, +of her mistress. Her deeply wounded feelings bleeding afresh at +their exposure, Isolde makes the relation almost tearfully. "You +have been a witness to my humiliation, hear now what brought it +about. They sing to me derisive songs. I could reply if I would! +Of a boat I could tell which, small and mean, drew to the coast +of Ireland. In it a sick and suffering man, in woful plight, at +the point of death...." She tells the story of her recognition in +this Tantris of Tristan; of her resolve to take immediate vengeance +upon him; of the look which disarmed her, her dismissal of him, +healed, that he "might go home and burden her no more with the +look of his eyes!"--"Oh, wonder!" breathes Brangaene. "Where were +my eyes? The guest whom I once helped to nurse...?"--"You heard +his praise a moment ago! 'Hurrah for our lord Tristan!' He was +that unhappy man. He swore a thousand oaths of eternal gratitude +to me, and truth. Now hear how a hero keeps his word. He whom I +dismissed unknown as Tantris, as Tristan comes boldly back. On +a proud tall ship he draws to land, and desires the heiress of +Ireland in marriage for the worn King of Cornwall, for Mark, his +uncle. In Morold's lifetime who had ventured to offer us such an +affront? To sue for the crown of Ireland for the King of the +tribute-owing Cornish!... Oh, woe is me! It was I, I, who in secret +prepared for myself this shame! Instead of smiting with the avenging +sword, weak, I let it drop. Now I am the servant of my own vassal!" +Brangaene, when all is told, does not apparently recognise in the +situation cause for so much bitterness. "When peace, reconciliation, +and friendship were sworn on all sides," she says wonderingly, "we +all rejoiced to see the day. How could I suppose it was a source +of affliction to you?" The point then appears of that bitterness, +which would hardly in reality have been a point but for a sentiment +not among those which Isolde confesses to her confidante. That +what she kept silent the other should reveal! That what he could +only know and live to report through the weakness of her woman's +heart, he should publicly make use of, to his own glory and his +relative's advantage! She paints his attitude, as she imagines him, +victory-flushed, hale and whole now, pointing at her and saying +in loud, clear tones: "There were a treasure for you, my lord and +uncle! What do you think of her as a wife? The pretty Irish-woman +I will bring to you here. By roads and by-paths well known to me, +give the sign, I fly to Ireland: Isolde is yours! I delight in +the adventure!" The picture goads her to very madness, and, with +a cry for its mingling of ferocity with anguish like the roar of a +baited and wounded lioness, she breaks into maledictions upon his +head, calling down vengeance upon him, death upon him, nay,--at the +climax of her rage and insupportable pain,--death upon them both! +With impetuous tenderness Brangaene showers words of endearment on +the exhausted friend, hushes her with caresses, heaps, as it were, +smothering flowers upon her angry coals. She forces her gently +to a seat, comforting her with word and touch. Then she holds up +all in a different light, endeavours to make her see the thing +reasonably, as it must appear to others. "What delusion is this? +What idle raving? How can you stultify yourself till you neither +can see nor hear? Whatever debt of gratitude Sir Tristan owes you, +tell me, could he better repay it than with the most magnificent of +crowns? Thus does he at the same time faithfully serve his noble +uncle and bestow upon you the world's most enviable prize. He has +renounced, generous and true-hearted, his own inheritance, and +placed it at your feet, that he may call you Queen. And if through +him you are to wed Mark, how should you find fault with the choice? +Can you fail to prize and honour the man? Of great lineage and +gentle nature, where is his equal in power and splendour? Who would +not wish to share his good fortune, as consort to tarry beside +him, whom the greatest of heroes so devotedly serves?" Isolde, +but half heeding, has fallen again to her miserable brooding. +Brangaene's last words find their way to her brain and produce an +image there which she stares at with gloomy and tragic eyes. As +before, unconscious in her perturbation that she is doing it, she +voices her inmost thoughts audibly, like a somnambulist: "Unloved by +him, to behold the unrivalled man ever near, how could I endure the +torment?" Brangaene catches the words, and innocently supposes them +applied to King Mark. She presses fondly against this unaccountably +humble-minded mistress: "What are you dreaming, perverse one? Unloved? +Where does the man live who would not love you? Who could see Isolde +and not blissfully dissolve in love for her? But, if so were that +he who has been chosen for you should be of a nature to that degree +cold, if so were that some evil magic drew him away from you, I +should know how very soon to bind the unkind one to you, the power +of love should work its spell upon him...." She draws so near to +Isolde that she can speak without fear of being overheard. "Do you +forget your mother's magic? Do you imagine that she, who ponders +all things so sagely, has sent me void of counsel along with you to +a strange land?"--"At the right moment I am reminded of my mother's +counsel," Isolde murmurs thoughtfully before her; "Her art I prize +and welcome its aid. Vengeance it affords for the betrayal, peace in +the need of the heart. Bring the casket here to me."--"It contains +what shall secure your happiness!" Brangaene joyfully hurries to +fetch the small golden coffer, lifts the lid, fingers the phials. +"In this very order were they placed by your mother, the mighty +magic potions. For hurts and wounds here is balm; here, for poison, +is counterpoison...." She takes out and holds up before Isolde +with a significant smile a small flask. "The sweetest draught of +all I hold here!" Isolde pushes aside her hand and stretches her +own to the casket. "You are mistaken. I know better which one that +is. I marked it with a deep incision. Here is the draught which +shall serve my turn!" Brangaene stares at the phial which Isolde has +taken from among the rest. "The death-potion!" she gasps, recoiling. + +A sing-song shout interrupts them, the voices of the sailors hauling +at ropes, taking in sail,--a reminder to Isolde that the land, the +terrible land, is near. Kurwenal hurries in: "Up, up, you ladies! +Briskly and cheerily! Quickly prepare to land! Ready at once, nimble +and spry! And to Madam Isolde I was to say from Tristan, my master: +the pennant of joy waves merrily from the mast, making her approach +known in Mark's royal castle. Wherefore he begs Madam Isolde to +haste and make ready, that he may escort her ashore." Isolde, for +a minute convulsed with a shuddering horror at her realization of +the decisive moment so near, reconquers her composure, and replies +with contrasting dignity and calm to Kurwenal's familiar and rude +pressing of the high-born ladies to haste. "To Sir Tristan bear my +greetings and report to him what I say. If he look to have me walk +at his side and stand before King Mark, as custom and seemliness +demand, let him know that this shall in no wise happen if he have +not before sought pardon of me for an uncondoned offence. Let him +therefore cast himself upon my clemency!" As Kurwenal by a gesture +signifies his stiff-necked resistance to her command, she repeats +it, more regally peremptory than before: "Take careful heed of what +I say and carefully report it. I refuse to make ready to accompany +him to land, I refuse to walk beside him and stand before King +Mark, unless he have before, as is fit and becoming, sued for +forgiveness and forgetfulness of an unexpiated fault. Let him hope +these from my grace!"--"Be quite sure that I shall tell him!" the +bluff serving-man replies, turning to go: "Now wait and see how +he takes it!" + +Isolde flings her arms around Brangaene: "Farewell, Brangaene! +Commend me to the world! Commend me to my father and mother!"--"What +is it?" the handmaid asks, not understanding, yet half frightened; +"What are you meditating? Are you planning flight? Whither must I +follow you?"--"Nay, did you not hear? I shall remain where I am. +I intend to await Tristan. Follow faithfully my command. At once +prepare the peace-draught,--you know the one I showed you."--"What +draught do you mean?" Brangaene asks, not daring to understand. +Isolde takes it out of the coffer once more and holds it up for +Brangaene to see well, the little deadly phial. "This draught! +Pour it into the golden goblet; it will contain the whole without +brimming over.--Mind you are true to me!" she adds, forcing it into +the maid's hand. "But this drink..." falters the appalled girl, +"for whom?"--"For him who betrayed me!"--"Tristan?"--"Shall drink to +our peace-making!" Brangaene falls at Isolde's feet, entreating her +to spare her. "Do you spare me, disloyal girl!" Isolde passionately +chides. What was the purpose, she asks, of that provision made by +her mother for their assistance in a strange land? For hurts and +wounds she had given balm; for poison, antidote; for deepest woe, +for utmost affliction, she had given the death-draught: thanks be +rendered to her now--by death! Brangaene still resisting, Isolde +imperiously presses her command. Their struggle is cut short by +Kurwenal announcing Tristan. Brangaene staggers to the back. Isolde +visibly summons up all her courage, all her strength, and with +queenly self-possession bids Tristan approach. + +The music introducing the following scene has the effect of lifting +the story on to a plane of larger things. The proportions of the +personages, in the light of the magnifying music, are seen to be +heroic, their natures vast, their passions, in their very +tremendousness, august. + +Tristan stops at the entrance and waits deferentially. Constraint +makes him into a man of chill iron. There is a long moment of +heavy-laden silence. He is first to speak: "Make known to me, lady, +your wish!" She comes to the point at once. "Do you not know my wish, +when the dread of fulfilling it has kept you afar from my glance?" +He evades her, as he had before evaded Brangaene. "Reverence laid +its compulsion upon me!"--"Small reverence have you shown me. With +overt scorn you have refused obedience to my command."--"Obedience +alone restrained me."--"Paltry cause should I have to thank your +master, if his service required of you discourtesy to his own +consort."--"Custom demands," he quietly meets this, "where I have +lived, that the escort of the bride, while bringing her home, should +keep afar from her presence."--"For what reason?"--Stiffly as he +stands, his answer resembles a shrug. "Ask of custom!"--"Since +you cherish so great a regard for custom, my lord Tristan," Isolde +mocks, "let me remind you of what likewise is a custom: to make +peace with the enemy, if he is to report you as his friend." "And +what enemy?" he questions, unmoved. "Inquire of your terror!... +Blood-guiltiness stands between us!"--"That was made good!"--"Not +between us!"--"In the open field, before the assembled people, a +solemn oath was sworn to let vengeance rest."--"Not there was it, +not in the open field, that I kept Tantris concealed, that Tristan +lay at my mercy. In the open field he stood magnificent, hale and +brave; the thing however which he swore, I fore bore to swear. I +had learned to keep silence. When he lay languishing in the hushed +chamber, and I stood silent before him with the sword, though my +mouth no made sound, though my hand refrained, yet the thing which I +had sworn with hand and mouth I silently renewed my oath to perform. +I now intend to keep it."--"What did you swear, lady?" Tristan asks +simply, without effect of defiance. "Vengeance for Morold!" she hurls +at him. He seems to wonder. A sort of numbness has been creeping over +him; an atmosphere of dream has closed around him; her neighbourhood, +her voice, no matter what words she is saying, even these angry and +cruel ones, have an effect of lulling, of making the real world seem +unreal. "Are you concerned for that?" he asks, with the sincerity of +that state of having lost grasp on things as it is agreed to pretend +they are. "Dare you to mock me?" she rages, "He was affianced to me, +the gallant Irish hero. I had consecrated his arms, for me he went +into battle. When he fell, my honour fell with him. In the heaviness +of my heart I swore an oath that if no man would take vengeance +for his murder, I, a woman, would find the hardihood for it. Why, +when sick and feeble you lay in my power, I did not strike, explain +to yourself by easy interpretation: I cared for your wound, that +a man in sound health should be struck down by the vengeful hand +of him who won Isolde. Judge for yourself now what your doom shall +be. Since the men are all your adherents, who is to smite Tristan?" +More than ever it seems like the atmosphere of a dream closing +down upon him, a dream in which they move, projecting incredible +things. But he has perfectly seized her meaning, and even in a +dream a man acts in character. Pale and self-contained, he hands +her his unsheathed sword, and his voice shows a first tinge of +emotion as he speaks the name of Morold, whom, it would almost +seem, she had loved. "If Marold was so dear to you, again take up +the sword, and drive it surely and steadfastly, that it may not +drop from your grasp!" + +If she seemed somewhat like a lioness before, striding and chafing +in her regal rage, she is again, it must be confessed, a little like +one now, but presenting a different aspect of the great feline, +a sort of cruelty, a need to torment before sacrificing. "What +would King Mark say if I were to slay his best servant, the most +faithful of his retainers, who won for him crown and land? Does it +seem to you such a paltry matter, that for which he stands indebted +to you, bringing home to him the Irish bride, that he would not +chide, should I slay the envoy who so faithfully delivers into +his hands the hostage of the peace-compact?... Put up your sword! +When upon a time I brandished it, my heart hot with desire for +vengeance, at your gazing upon me with an eye that took my measure, +to see if I would answer as a wife for King Mark"--(There, there +is point of insufferable bitterness!)--"I let the sword sink. Let +us drink now to our reconciliation!" + +By a sign she orders Brangaene to bring the draught. The poor creature +shrinks away shuddering. Isolde, by a gesture more peremptory still, +repeats her command, and Brangaene is seen tremulously busying herself +with the golden casket and the golden cup. Again the sing-song +chorus is heard, of the sailors hauling in the topsail. The sound +falls with a shock upon Tristan's ear. "Where are we?" he cries, +in bewilderment. "Close to our destination!" Isolde replies +significantly. They are so close indeed to the end of their voyage +that anything there is to say must be said now, and she invites, with +a first suspicion of softness, some expression from him of regret, +some explanation before they die, some attempt at justification +of his so unkind-seeming return to the woman who had nursed and +saved him. "Tristan, shall I obtain amends? What have you to say +to me?" But he is guarded now as earlier; the compulsion of honour +is no less strong upon him than before. "The lady of silence," he +replies darkly, "teaches me to be silent. I apprehend, mayhap, +what she concealed.... I conceal what she does not apprehend!"--"I +shall apprehend the reason of your silence," she exclaims angrily, +"if you mean to elude me. Do you refuse to drink to our peace-making?" + +Brangaene has brought the cup. Tristan gazes rigidly into Isolde's +eyes as she approaches him bearing it. "The voyage nears its end. +In brief space we shall stand," her lip curls with irony, "before +King Mark! As you lead me to him, should you not deem it an apt +speech to make: My lord and uncle, look at her well! A meeker woman +you could never hope to win. I slew her affianced, I sent home to +her his head; the wound made by his weapon she graciously healed. +My life lay in her power; the gentle maid made me a gift of it, and +gave her consent to the dishonour and degradation of her country +that she might become your wife. In kind acknowledgment of my good +gifts to her, she mixed me a sweet peace-draught; of her grace she +tendered this to me, to make all offences forgotten!" No, Tristan +can hardly entertain a doubt of the cup's contents which the princess +holds toward him with her ambiguous smile. But her right, aside +from any other consideration, is recognised as indubitable to the +life which she saved. We have from his own lips later what his +emotions were in this moment so pregnant with fate. What we see +is that he stands like a man in a dream. A voice is heard outside +shouting orders to the sailors: "Up with the cable! Free the anchor!" +He starts awake--he rises as if with a spring to the height of +the moment. "Anchor loose!" he cries wildly. "Helm to the stream! +Sails and mast to the wind!" Ay, let go all regards and restraints +of life, since life itself is about to be tossed over. There is zest +in doing it, and then rid at once forever of the puzzling world of +duty and prudence and heart-starvation! He snatches the goblet from +Isolde's hand: "Well do I know Ireland's queen and the magic power +of her arts. I made use of the balm which she proffered, I take the +cup from her now, that I to-day may completely recover. And do you +mark the pledge with which, grateful, I drink to our peace!" It is +an answer, this enigmatic pledge, to her wistful question: "What +have you to say to me?" He cannot pass into silence, and leave her +forever with her unmingled contempt for him. By broken intimations +he flashes light upon the thing which his lips are interdicted from +revealing. Charged with emotion, the words chime slowly: "Tristan's +honour,--highest truth!... Tristan's misery,--cruellest spite!... +Lure of the heart!... Dream-intuitions!... Sole comforter of an +eternal woe, merciful draught of forgetfulness, unwaveringly I +drink!" He sets the cup to his lips and is drinking as he said, +when with the cry: "Defrauded here too! Mine, one half!" Isolde +wrests the goblet from him: "Traitor, I drink to you!" and drains +it, unwavering as he. + +The empty cup drops from her hand. They stand in suspense, gazing +at each other, as defiantly they await death. The searching potion +in a moment begins to take effect; each sees in the eyes of the other +a new thing dawning, strange and beautiful; a trembling seizes upon +their limbs. They press their hands convulsively to their hearts, +the seat of an incomprehensible trouble, then to their foreheads, +within which the brain seems to have become subject to over-wild +delusions. Their eyes meet again, and are averted in a confused +terror; but, invincibly allured, again seek the other--and both +gaze with increasing, at last unconquerable, yearning. With tremulous +lips she speaks his name,--a complete confession in the one word +so spoken. Passionately he calls hers,--confession for confession. +She sinks overpowered on his breast. He clasps her ardently to +him. Brangaene wrings her hands at sight of them locked in their +long, mute embrace. Her work this, the work of her disobedient +hands which, too weak for the stern task assigned them, poured out +the love-potion in place of the death-draught. "Woe, woe," she +wails, "eternal, irredeemable woe, instead of brief death! Behold +the pernicious work of a foolish fondness blossoming heavenward +in lamentation!" + +The two move apart for a moment in order better to gaze at each +other. "What was I dreaming," he falters, "of Tristan's honour?" +"What was I dreaming," she wonderingly asks, "of indignities to +Isolde?"--"You, lost to me?" Could man have imagined so wild a +thing! "You repulsing me?" Probable, it seems, as he stretches +to her those yearning arms! It has all been a malignant trick, +then, of evil sorcery! Restored at length from that delusion, they +yield themselves exultantly to the tide of passion that has caught +them away and shall carry them whither it will, scornful of the +whole world, lost in each other, conscious of a sweetness in the +surrender surpassing all that life had given them to suspect. + +The peculiar action of the potion is detected from the above. It +seems less to create passion than to remove all that obscured and +controlled it, dissolve the barriers which up to the moment of +drinking stood so effectively between the two. Tristan's will crumbles +under it, the will which had kept him loyal to Mark, which had made +him, to the point of offence, shun the radius of her dangerous +magnetism. Isolde's pride melts under it, which had enabled her +to keep up with herself and him a fiction of hate for the man who +had wronged her. All that keeps love within bounds being burned +away, it towers in a sublime conflagration. Their sense of the +change is that they have awakened from a dream; but the effect +of the potion has been in truth rather more to plunge them into +a state of dream, in which while one emotion is in the ascendant +the others sleep,--reason sleeps, will sleeps, all other interests +and considerations sleep, leaving love free to reach proportions +and an intensity unknown during wakefulness. + +They have not heard or heeded the cries of the crew: "Hail, hail, +King Mark!" The curtains of the pavilion are suddenly drawn wide +apart. The ship's company crowds the deck; all are gazing toward +the land. Tristan and Isolde take account of nothing, their senses +fast sealed to all but the contemplation of each other. Brangaene +and other women place on Isolde's unconscious shoulders the royal +mantle, and deck her, unaware of it, with jewels. Kurwenal comes +running to his master: "Hail, Tristan, fortunate hero! King Mark, +with rich rout of courtiers, approaches in a barge. Ha! He looks +well pleased, coming to meet the bride!" Tristan asks, dazed: "Who +approaches?"--"The King!"--"What king?"--Kurwenal points overboard. +Tristan stares landward, not comprehending. The men shout and wave +their caps. "Hail, King Mark!"--"What is it?" Isolde inquires, +reached in her trance by the clamour; "Brangaene, what cry is +that?"--"Isolde, mistress," the distraught Brangaene implores, +"self-control for this one day!"--"Where am I?" the bewildered +lady asks helplessly. "Am I alive?..." What, the question asks +itself, what is this still familiar surrounding scene, when they +ought, by true working of the drug, to be dead? If any thought had +accompanied the overmastering impulse which she had blindly followed, +it had been that before death all disguises drop, that in dying one +is sincere. But since death had not followed the drinking of the +draught--"Ha! What draught was that?" she asks in consternation. +Brangaene gives the desperate truth. "The love-draught!" Isolde's +eyes widen with horror, and turning from Brangaene fix themselves +upon Tristan. The situation flashes before her for one shocked +moment in its true colours; and as before her calling his name +had revealed all love, it reveals now her sense of an unspeakable +awfulness in what has happened to them. As he calls her name, too, +it expresses, with his boundless tenderness, pity and a tragic +recognition of the black ingredient in the cup which had lifted +them to such heights of intoxication. "Must I live?" speaks the +last glimmer of the old Isolde, provided normally with a moral +nature; and overwhelmed by the greatness of the catastrophe she +sinks fainting upon his breast. A last glimmer of the old Tristan +groans aloud: "O rapture beset with snares! Bliss on betrayal built!" + +Trumpets are heard. The eager expectancy of all indicates that the +King's barge is close at hand. The curtain falls. + +II + +The introduction to the second act opens with the motif of the Day. +It is no tender dawn described, with tremulous lights among the +clouds; it has little of the touching _Morgenpracht_ in Parsifal. +It is a startling announcement of a fateful fact, an obtruder feared +and unloved; it is like a clash of cymbals or call of trumpets +summoning to unwelcome tasks, away from delights and dreams. It +is indeed the day as it appears to lovers when, dispelling the +gentle night which united them, with cruel golden shafts it drives +them apart. The musical rendering follows upon it of love's impatient +heart-beats, love's ungovernable eagerness for the beloved's presence, +love listening for the footsteps of the beloved. The curtain rises +upon a garden under a cloudless summer night. Beside the door of +Isolde's apartment a torch is burning. The sound is heard of +hunting-horns gradually retreating. Brangaene stands on the +castle-steps, listening to these. Isolde, all in a happy agitation, +hurries forth to ask if they still be audible. She herself cannot hear +them any more. But to Brangaene's ear the sound is still distinct. +Isolde listens again: No! Brangaene, she believes, is deceived by +her over-great anxiety, deceived by the rustling of the leaves. +"You," Brangaene retorts, "are deceived by the impetuosity of your +desire! I hear the sound of the horns." Isolde again listens. "No!" +she discourses in her over-running tender exhilaration, "the sound +of horns was never so pleasing as that! It is the soft purling of +the fountain whose music comes so sweetly borne to us; how could +I hear it, if hunting-horns were still blaring near by? In the +silence, all I hear is the murmured laughter of the fountain. The +one who is waiting for me in the hushed night, are you determined to +keep him away from me as if horns were still close at hand?"--"The +one who is waiting for you--do but listen to my warning," Brangaene +pleads, "there are spies in the night lying in wait for him! Because +you are blind, do you believe the eyes of the world dulled to your +actions and his?" Against Melot she warns her, Melot, who, when +he came aboard the ship with King Mark to receive the bride,--and +the kindly King was engrossed by anxiety for the condition of the +pale and fainting princess,--with treacherous, suspicious eye, +Brangaene had seen it, scrutinised the countenance of Tristan, to +read in it what might thereafter serve his purpose. Often since +then she has come upon him eavesdropping. Against Melot let Isolde +be warned!... Melot? Isolde rejects the idea with light scorn. Is +not he Tristan's dearest friend? When Tristan is forced to keep +afar from her, with whom does he spend the time but Sir Melot? +"The thing which makes him suspicious to me, to you endears him!" +cries Brangaene, in despair at such wilful blindness. "From Tristan +to Mark lies Melot's road. He there sows evil seed. This nocturnal +hunting-party, so hurriedly concerted, has in view a nobler quarry +than your fancy deems!"--"Melot," Isolde persists in his defence, +"invented the stratagem, out of compassion for his friend. And do +you make it into a reproach to him? He cares for me better than do +you. He opens to me that which you close. Oh, spare me the misery +of hesitation! The signal, Brangaene, give the signal! Extinguish +the light to its last flicker. Beckon to the Night, that she may +completely bend over us. Already she has poured her silence upon +grove and house. Already she has filled the heart with her happy +trepidation. Quench the light! Smother its frightening glare! Throw +open the way to my beloved!"--"Oh, let the torch of warning stand!" +Brangaene struggles with her still, "Let it stand to illumine your +danger!" And she wrings her hands anew, lamenting over this which is +the work of those unfaithful hands, in a single instance disobedient +to the mistress's will. "Your work?" Isolde smiles, with that mortal +lightness which is upon her to-night; "Oh, foolish girl! Do you not +know the Lady of Love? Do you not know her power, her miracles? +Queen of high hearts, ruler of earth's destinies, life and death +are subject to her. She weaves them out of pain and pleasure. She +can change hate into love. Presumptuous, I took in hand the work +of death. The Lady of Love wrested it from me. The death-devoted +she took into her keeping, she seized the work in her own hands. +To whatever purpose she will to turn it, however she will to end +it, whatever the doom she appoint me, I am become her own. Let +me then show myself obedient to her!" Clearly, Isolde to-night +is _fey_. A rapturous madness is upon her. Aphrodite, the Lady +of Love, possesses her indeed, and no impression is to be made +upon her great mood by anything Brangaene can say. The girl might +talk more hopefully to a gust of summer wind. Poor-spirited and +grey-hued she appears, with her anguish and forebodings, beside +the glowing, rosily-smiling queen, in her secure expectation. Still +she presses the prayer of her terror: Just this one night let Isolde +listen to her pleading! Just this one night let her not put out the +light! But the mad Queen declares bafflingly that _Frau Minne_, +Madam Love, desires that it shall become night, that she herself may +illumine the place whence Brangaene's torch banishes her. To the +watch-turret with Brangaene, whence let her keep faithful look-out. +"The torch," Isolde cries, grasping it, "were it the light of my +life, laughing, without a tremor, I would put it out!" She dashes +it to the ground, where it slowly dies. The troubled Brangaene +disappears with heavy step up the stairway to the battlements. + +Then is heard the motif again of love's impatience, of love listening. +Isolde peers down the avenue of trees, strains her ear for the +sound of footsteps. She waves her veil, which glimmers white in the +darkness; she waves it, in her impatience, more and more quickly. +She has caught sight of him, as an ecstatic gesture betrays. She +hurries to the top of the stairs, the better to see him from afar +and wave welcome to him. She rushes at last to meet him and they +are gathered in each other's arms. So over-great is their joy that +neither can believe the witness of his senses; nothing so good +could be true as that this verily which can be seen and clasped +should be the so sorely desired one. They vent themselves in such +childish, fond, incredulous exclamations as: Is it you yourself? +Are they your eyes? Are they your lips? Have I here your hand? +Have I here your heart? Is it I? Is it you? Do I hold you close? +Is it no fancy? Is it no dream? And, as if finally convinced, they +burst forth in a hymn of thanksgiving and joy. + +"The light! The light! Oh, that light!" the lover voices his grudge +against it. "How long ere it went out! The sun sank, day departed, +but the ill-will of the Day was still unsated. It lit a fearful +danger-signal and fastened it at the beloved's door, to prevent +me coming to her!"--"But the hand of the beloved extinguished the +light," Isolde pacifies him; "What the handmaid refused, I feared +not to do. At the command and under the protection of Great Love, +I cried defiance to the Day!"--"The Day! The Day! the malignant +Day!" he inveighs; "To that implacable enemy hate and reproach! +Oh, might I, even as you quenched the light, put out the torches +of the insolent Day, in vengeance for all the sufferings of love!" + +There is a great deal in the often fanciful, yet ever earnest, +conversation between the lovers, about the Day and the Night; the +Day being devoted to their hate, the Night to their worship. It +is not only, however, that the day divides them, and their trysts +belong to the night. They make the image of Day to stand for falsehood +and evil illusion, while Night represents truth. The reason of +this is not far to seek. Their love is not like the love of other +mortals. Inevitably in the latter many elements enter. Will controls +it, at least to some extent; reason guides and bounds it; sense +of humour even qualifies it. A thousand things besides love find +room in the most enamoured human heart and brain: other persons, +pursuits, interests,--what Rossetti calls "all life's confederate +pleas, work, contest, fame." The many-sided nature of man is appealed +to by myriad things. Only for brief moments do lovers stand on the +high peaks of pure passion where Tristan and Isolde perpetually +reside. Love they never so truly, lovers who have not quaffed the +magic potion love great part of the time almost unconsciously, in +a divine under-current,--no otherwise indeed than Tristan before +the potion, when, despite the Image in his heart, he devoted thought +to his career, cherished dreams of ambition. But after the cup +Tristan and Isolde are lovers, nothing more,--or less. All the +furniture of the day which has nothing to do with their love is +therefore an impertinence, an obtrusion; all day's pageants and +activities are a vanity, and a pernicious vanity; a glaring mask +hiding from sight the only true and beautiful. Everything that +the garish daylight shows, which can never show them the depths of +the other's heart, is a false show, an ugly delusion. The night, +during which all the troublesome, battering appeals of the day +are suspended, in which everything fades from the eye, leaving +it free to fix itself upon the only reality, love,--the night is +fosterer and patroness of truth. To love the night, to yearn for +it, to wish it forever prolonged, is natural in these lovers who +have drank of the cup; and, by a natural step further, since earthly +life affords no such night, to wish for the night of death, as we +hear them presently doing, a night in which they picture themselves +eternally floating in a state of ever-renewed joy in each other, +ever fresh ardour, two and yet one. It is not in the least like +Paradise. Paradise, with its interfering light and shows and +other-souls-in-bliss, could be to them but another version of the +Day. The Paradise of their desire is an eternal twilight, and nothing +more asked for each than the heaven of the other. + +Meanwhile they are talking together like commoner lovers, of the +past, of their first meeting, the beginnings of their love. How, +she asks him, very humanly, how could he do to her the thing he +did, betray her as he had done, claim her for another, give her +over to death? "It was the Day!" he explains. "The Day, shining +about me, which showed Isolde, where she stood sun-like, in the +splendour of glory and greatness, infinitely far removed. That +which so ravished my eye, weighted down my heart to the earth. How, +in the brilliant light of the Day, how could Isolde be mine?"--"Was +she not yours, whose elect you were? What falsehoods did the evil +Day tell you, that you should betray the faithful one, who had +preferred you?" The love of glory it had been, he avows, which +moved him. That sun of the Day, worldly honour, with its idle and +false rays had allured him. An Image all the while lay in the deepest +shrine of his heart, an unsleeping Image which had impressed itself +while he was hardly aware, and lived in the chaste night there, +closely shut in. Till a ray of the Day had penetrated even so deep, +and that which was so secret and sacred that his eyes scarcely +trusted themselves to look at it, that Image, smitten by Daylight, +lay brilliantly revealed. And, Day-deluded, he had vaunted before +the whole army that which seemed to him so desirable and beautiful, +the fairest King's-bride of all the earth; and to silence the envy +and hatred which had begun to make his honours heavy to him, to +maintain his glory, he had undertaken that boldest exploit, his +quest to Ireland. "Vain slave of the Day!" Isolde calls him. She +tells her part of the story, and we are enlightened concerning +the mood in which she proffered to him the death-draught: how, +deceived she too by the Day, tortured in her love for him, she +had, while ardently loving him, hated him to the bottom of her +heart. From the light of Day, which showed him an ingrate and a +traitor, she had longed to flee, to draw him along with her into the +night, where her heart foretold an end of the mistake, a dispelling +of the apprehended delusion; to drink to him eternal love and enter +death simultaneously with him. + +We learn thereupon the mood in which he accepted the cup from her. +"When I recognised the sweet draught proffered by your hand, when +intuition clearly and surely told me what it was the peace-drink +promised me, there dawned in my bosom, mild and divine, the Night--my +Day had reached its close!" In other words, when he had stood facing, +as he knew, death, all the vain shows and disguises of the Day had +melted away, he had seen for the first time clearly in his own +heart. "O hail to the draught!" he exclaims, "Hail to its sublime +magic! At the portal of death, where I quaffed it, it opened wide +to me the region where I theretofore had wandered but in dream, +the wonder-kingdom of the Night! From the Face in the innermost +shrine of the heart it dispelled the deceiving glare of the Day, +that my eyes, grown accustomed to the Night, might see it in its +truth." But the Day, she carries on the conceit with gathering +sadness, had its revenge! The Day entered into league with his +sins, and that Face which the Night had vouchsafed him to see he +had been forced to surrender to the royal power of the Day, and +behold it shining lonesomely afar, in barren magnificence. "How +have I endured it?" she moans, "How do I still endure it?" Nay, +he comforts her, "We are now become the initiate of the Night. +The malevolent Day, the cruel, can divide, but no longer deceive +us. They whose eyes the Night has consecrated laugh to scorn Day's +idle splendour, his braggart brilliancy. The fugitive flashes of +his lightning cannot dazzle them more. He who has gazed longingly +into the night of death, he to whom that Night has confided her +deep secret, the lies of the Day, honour and glory, power and gain, +lovely and shining though they be, like idle star-dust he sees them +float past. Amid the vain delusions of the Day he is possessed by +a single longing, the longing for the holy Night, in which the one +thing from all eternity true, Love with its rapture, awaits him!" +He draws her gently to a flowery bank, sinks kneeling before her +and lays his head within her arm. And they breathe forth together, +with an equal dreamy devoutness, their invocation to the Night. +"Oh, close around us, night of love! Give forgetfuless of life! +Gather us up in your arms, release us from the world!..." Quenched +is the last torch, quenched all thought, all memory. In a sacred +twilight full of wondrous divinations, the dread illusions of the +world melt away, leaving free the spirit. And the sun in the breast +having set, softly shine forth the stars of joy. And when, heart +upon heart, lip against lip, breathing one breath, the lovers' +eyes are blinded with joy, the world with its dazzling deceits +fades from sight, the world which the Day had flashed before their +eyes for their delusion, and they themselves are the world, and +the world is life, is love, is joy, is a beautiful wish come true, +from which there shall be no awakening.... + +Reaching completely the state they describe, of forgetfulness of +the world and the Day, each the whole world to the other, they +sink back side by side, cheek to cheek, among the flowers. + +From the turret comes the lonely voice of Brangaene, warning the +lovers to have a care, have a care, the night is nearly over! There +is a leisurely moment. Isolde stirs: "Hark, beloved!" But Tristan, +too deeply steeped in the languor of night and dreams, replies with +a sigh: "Let me die!" Isolde raises herself a little: "Oh, envious +sentinel!" Tristan remains reclining: "Never to waken!"--"But the +Day must rouse Tristan?" she softly exhorts. "Let the Day yield +unto death!" She considers this quietly: "Day and death then with +a simultaneous stroke shall overtake our love?" He comes a little +more awake to protest that death cannot destroy such love as theirs, +that love is stronger than death, is eternally living, that all +that could die in death would be the disturbing things which now +prevent him from being always with her, whereas were they to +die,--inseparable,--to all eternity one,--nevermore to awake,--nevermore +to know fear,--nameless, close enfolded in love,--belonging singly +to themselves,--they should live wholly for love!... She says the +words after him, dreamily, charmed, allured by the vista they open +before her. And when Brangaene's voice is heard again from her +turret warning them to have a care, have a care, day is at hand, +and Tristan bends over her smiling to ask: "Shall I heed?" she +sighs, as he had done before: "Let me die!"--"Shall I awake?" he +very gently teases. "Never to wake again!"--"Must the Day rouse +Tristan?"--"Let the Day yield unto death!"--"We will brave then +the threats of the Day?" With increasing earnestness she cries: +"To be rid of his malice forever!"--"Day-break shall never more +frighten us apart?"--"Eternal shall be our night!" + +This is really but a lovers' device for clinging together a little +longer; one does not feel that they have seriously determined to +remain where they are till they shall have been discovered and +sacrificed on the altar of a husband's honour. They plainly are +in the state they have described: quenched is thought, is memory; +they are intoxicated with the _Liebes-wonne_ they celebrate, and +so while day is whitening overhead, feeling really, as far as they +are capable of thought, besottedly secure,--Frau Minne will +protect!--they caress, clasped in each other's arms, the thought of +the eternal night lying beyond the death they would die for love, +where far from the sun, far from the lamentation of Day-decreed +partings, delivered from fear, delivered from all ill, they shall +dream, in exquisite solitude and in unbounded space, a super-adorable +dream. He shall be Isolde, she Tristan,--but no, there shall be +no more Tristan, no more Isolde, but undivided, inexpressible, +they shall move to ever-new recognitions, new ardours, possessed +in everlasting of a single consciousness--Ineffable joy of love! +Their voices soar with these flights of fancy.... Of a sudden, as +if with a crash, the sweet harmonies turn to discord. A shriek is +heard from Brangaene. Kurwenal rushes in with drawn sword, crying: +"Save yourself, Tristan!" + +Hard upon his heels come Mark, Melot, and a flock of courtiers +in hunting-attire. They stop in consternation before the lovers, +who have seen nothing, heard nothing, and stand quietly lost in +each other's embrace. It is only when Brangaene seizes her that +Isolde becomes aware of the spectators. With a natural impulse of +womanly shame she averts her face from all those eyes and hides +it against the flowery bank. Tristan with one arm holds his mantle +wide outspread so that it screens her from sight, and for long +moments continues so, motionless, gazing rigidly at the motionless +men who return his gaze in silence. In the pale first glimmer of +dawn, he might well think them unreal, creations of a bad dream. +The spell of silence is broken by the cry bursting from his lips: +"The desolate Day--for the last time!" Melot steps forward and +points at him: "You shall now tell me," he speaks to Mark, "whether +I rightfully accused him? Whether I am to retain my head which I +placed at stake? I have shown him to you in the very act. I have +faithfully preserved your name and honour from stain." + +The King is deeply shaken. No anger is in his unsteady voice, but +utter sorrow. Something deeper has been reached than his pride in +his honour, and that is not his love for Isolde, but his faith +in Tristan. "Have you really?" he bitterly takes up Melot's last +assurance and his boast of fidelity. "Do you imagine it? Behold +him there, the most loyal among the loyal! Look upon him, the +friendliest of friends! The most generous act of his devotion he +has used to stab my heart with deadliest perfidy. If Tristan then +has betrayed me, am I to hope that my honour, which his treason +has struck at, has been loyally defended by Melot?" + +These are strange words for Tristan the knight to hear. Applied +to himself, such words as perfidy, treason.... He brushes his arm +wildly across his eyes: "Phantoms of the Day! Morning-dreams! empty +and lying,--vanish, disperse!" The heart-broken King, with a gentleness +more effectual in punishing than the angriest objurgations, goes on +to sear the false friend's conscience by holding up before him, +simply, what he has done; comparing the image of him as he has in +fact proved with the image of him which Mark had cherished. The +reproach is intolerable in view of what Mark himself is: noble, +gentle, great-hearted, and toward Tristan so full of affection! +"To me--this? This, Tristan, to me? Where now shall one look for +truth, since Tristan has deceived me? Where look for honour and +uprightness, since the pattern of all honour, Tristan, has lost +them? Whither has virtue fled, since she is gone from Tristan, +who had made her into his shield and defence, yet has now betrayed +me?" + +Tristan's eyes, which had been fixed steadily upon Mark, slowly +sink to the ground; a wondering sadness overspreads his countenance, +heavier and heavier as the royal master proceeds with his arraignment. +Why Tristan's innumerable services, the greatness he had won for his +King, if they were to be paid with the receiver's dishonour? Was +it too small a reward that the King had made him his heir? So dearly +he had loved him that, having lost his wife, and being childless, he +had resolved for his sake not to wed again. He had been obdurate +to the prayers of his people, to Tristan's own entreaties, until +Tristan had threatened to leave the kingdom unless he were himself +despatched to bring home a bride for the King. And his courage had +won for Mark this woman, lovely to a wonder, whom who could know, +who behold, who proudly call his own, without accounting himself +blessed? This one, to whom he, Mark, would never have presumed to +aspire, Tristan, braving enemies and danger, had brought home to +him. And now that through such a possession his heart had become +more vulnerable to pain than before, wherefore wound him in the +very spot where it was tenderest?--destroy his faith in his friend, +fill his frank heart with distrust, bring him to the degradation +of dogging his friend by night and listening covertly? "Wherefore +to me this hell which no heaven can deliver me from? Wherefore to +me this indignity which no suffering can wash out? The dreadful, +deep, undiscoverable, thrice-mysterious reason,--who will reveal +it to the world?" + +Tristan's eyes, as, thus questioned, he lifts them at last again to +Mark's, express boundless compassion. "Oh! King, I cannot answer; +and that which you ask you never can learn!" No, for it is as strange, +as full of black mystery, to Tristan as to Mark. It is the very +impossible which has happened, the never to be accounted for. Tristan, +the soul of honour, has betrayed his friend, and with all those +circumstances of aggravation which the friend has just counted +off. Nothing can explain it. It is surely like a dream, a curious +dream, the worst of the Day's lies. But in a dream also, as we +remarked before, there is a right thing to do, for a man of heart. +Tristan is not long deciding upon his course. But before acting +he turns to Isolde, where she sits with eyes of undiminished love +raised toward the companion in shame and agony. In following the +call of honour he has no mind to forsake her. "Whither Tristan +now departs, will you, Isolde, follow him? The country Tristan +means no beam of the sun illumines. It is the dim nocturnal land +from which my mother sent me forth, when dying she gave to the +light a dead man's child. The refuge to which, having borne me, +she carried her love, the wonder-kingdom of the night from which of +old I woke. That is what Tristan offers. Thither he goes before. If +she will follow, kind and true, let now Isolde say!" With touching +more-than-readiness Isolde, trustful and unashamed, declares: "When +once before the friend bade her to a strange land, Isolde, kind +and true, must follow the unkind one. But now you lead to your +own dominions, to show me your heritage. How should I avoid the +realm which lies about the whole world? Where Tristan's house and +home, there let Isolde take her abode. That she may follow, kind +and true, let him now show Isolde the way!" Again for a moment +so lost in her that it is no else than as if they were alone in +all the world, he slowly bends over her and kisses her forehead. A +cry of indignation breaks from Melot. "Traitor! Ha, King, revenge! +Shall you endure this outrage?" But Tristan has suddenly cast off +the inertia of dreams, bared his sword, and turned about. "Who will +match his life against mine?" He gazes full into Melot's face. +"He was my friend. He loved me, he held me high. He, more than any, +was concerned for my honour, my fame. He made proud my heart to +arrogance. He headed the band of those who urged me on to augment +my glory and renown by wedding you to the King. Your eye, Isolde, +has dazzled him too. From envy he betrayed me to the King--whom I +betrayed!" With a feint of attack he springs toward Melot. "Defend +yourself, Melot!" Melot quickly thrusts with his sword. Tristan +who has not parried, who has let the sword drop from his hand, +sinks back wounded in Kurwenal's arms. Isolde casts herself upon +his breast. The music makes a brief sorrowful comment--and the +curtain falls. + +III + +The introduction to the third act not only presents the emotions +belonging to what shall follow, heaving deep heart-groans and expending +itself in pity over the stricken hero; it paints with strange clearness +a scene: the sea stretching to the horizon, under leaden sunshine, +empty of every sail--the sea which lies in fact before us when +the curtain rises, fading off into the sky beyond low battlements +which enclose on the outer-side a neglected castle-garden. + +Tristan lies with closed eyes upon a couch, in the shadow of a +tree. Kurwenal, sitting at his head, bends a careworn face to listen +for his breathing. A shepherd's pipe is heard playing a little +wavering tune, melancholy in its simplicity to heartbreak. The +tune grieves itself out. A shepherd looks over the wall and, after +a moment watching, calls to Kurwenal, asking if _he_ does not yet +awake? Kurwenal sadly shakes his head. "Even if he should awake, +it would only be to take his leave forever, unless the Physician, +the only one who can help us, should first arrive...." Has he seen +nothing, he inquires, no ship on the sea? "In that case you should +hear a different tune," the shepherd answers, "as merry a one as +I can play! But tell me the truth, old friend, what has happened +to our master?"--"Let be that question!" Kurwenal heavily turns +from it: "not for any asking can you learn! Keep diligent look-out; +go, and when you see a ship pipe loud and merrily." The shepherd +shades his eyes and looks off over the endless blue waste of the +waters. "Barren and empty the sea!" He sets his pipe to his lips +again and plays over, withdrawing, the hauntingly melancholy tune +of before. + +Without premonitory sign of returning consciousness, Tristan's +lips move. His voice comes very faint: "The ancient tune.... what +does it wake me?" He opens his hollow eyes. "Where am I?" Kurwenal +starts up with a shout of joy: "Ha, that voice! His voice! Tristan, +my master! my hero! my Tristan!" Tristan by a great effort brings +his mind to consider these sounds, and with great effort speaks: +"Who... calls me?"--"At last! At last!" Kurwenal's heart overflows. +"Life! Oh, life! Sweet life, given back to my Tristan!" Tristan +knows him now. "Kurwenal... is it you? Where have I been?... Where +am I?" Kurwenal on the spot assumes that ultra-joyous tone of persons +about a sick-bed when their faces are turned toward the patient +whom they are determined to infect with hope. "Where you are? In +peace, in safety, in freedom! At Kareol, master! Do you not recognise +the castle of your fathers.?"--"Of my fathers?" Tristan murmurs +stupidly. "Just look about you!"--"What--" the sick man asks after +a vague glance, "what was the sound I heard?"--"The shepherd's +pipe you heard again, after so many days! On the hillside he keeps +your flocks."--"My flocks?..."--"Master, that is what I said! This +is your house, your court and castle. Your people, loyal to the +beloved lord, saved for you, as well as they could, the patrimony +which my hero once made over to them outright, when he forsook +all to travel to a distant land."--"To what land?"--"Cornwall, +to be sure!" And the anxious grey-bearded nurse, to rouse in the +patient some gleam of joy in being, of pride in past prowess, breaks +enthusiastically forth: "Oh, what good fortune Tristan, brave and +bonny, met with there! What splendour of glory, what honors he +won in the teeth of his enemies!"--"Am I in Cornwall?" Tristan +asks discouragingly. "No, no, I have told you! At Kareol."--"How +did I get here?" Kurwenal almost laughs, and in the pride of the +unhoped-for hour cracks a joke. "How you got here? Not on horseback! +A little ship brought you, but to the ship I carried you on these +shoulders of mine. They are broad, they bore you to the shore. +And now you are safe at home, on your own land, the right land, +the native land, where amid familiar pastures and homely joys, +under the rays of the old sun, from death and wounds you blessedly +shall recover!" The rough fellow presses his cheek to his master's +breast, like a woman. There is silence. Tristan stares vacantly +ahead, vaguely pondering the servant's last words, of which the +echo has lingered teasingly in his ear. "Do you believe so?" he +says at last. "I know a different thing--but the manner of it I +cannot tell you! This where I have awakened is not the place where +I have been,--but where I have been--I cannot tell you! I did not +see the sun, I saw no earthly scene, nor any people, but what I +saw--I cannot tell you! I found myself--where from everlasting I +was, whither to everlasting I go: in the boundless realm of the +night which girds the world. One knowledge alone belongs to us +there,--divine eternal perfection of oblivion! How"--he faintly +wails, with a beginning of restlessness--"how have I lost the sense +of it? Is it you again, unforgotten longing, driving me back to +the light of the day? All that still survives in me, a pitiless +torturing love, impels me forth to gaze upon the light which, +deceivingly bright and golden, shines, Isolde, upon you!" With +the memory of Isolde becoming clear-defined again, as he emerges +more completely from the deathlike stupor which had chained him, +agitation seizes upon him, greater from moment to moment. Isolde +still in the region of the sunshine! Still in the light of the +day, Isolde! Unendurable longing to see her repossesses him. For +that it is he has turned back from the portals of death, come back +from among the shadows, to seek for her, to behold her, to find her, +in whom alone it is granted to Tristan to lose himself and cease +to be! His old hatred of the day is upon him, and one's sympathy +feels, well enough, the distress to his fever of being thus drawn +from the dark of unconsciousness and thrust into this glare of +summer. By a natural confusion of ideas, as his agitation turns +to delirium, this day torturing him, this day upon which he calls +a malediction, becomes his old enemy, the Day which used to keep +him from her,--and shifts from that into the signal-light which +even at night used to warn him off. His delusion complete, he calls +imploringly to Isolde, Sweetest, Loveliest, "When, oh, finally, +when, will you quench the torch, that it may announce to me my +happiness? The light... when will it go out?... When will the house +be wrapped in rest?" He falls back exhausted. Kurwenal, whose joy +of a little while before has dropped at the contemplation of this +torment, takes heart again from his hope in the good news he has +to impart. "The one whom of old I braved, from devotion to you, +how am I brought to longing for her now! Rely upon my word, you +shall see her, here, and this very day, if only she be still among +the living!" + +The meaning of his words has not penetrated. Tristan is far away +among old scenes. "The torch has not yet gone out! Not yet is the +house wrapped in darkness!... Isolde lives and keeps watch.... She +called to me out of the night!"--"If then she lives," Kurwenal +eagerly, seizes the cue, "let hope comfort you. Dullard as you must +esteem Kurwenal, this time you shall not chide him. Ever since +the day when Melot, the infamous, dealt you the wound, you lay like +one dead. The evil wound, how to heal it? Then I, thick-witted +fellow, reflected that the one who closed the wound made by Morold +could find easy remedy to the injury from Melot's sword. Not long +was I deciding upon the best physician! I have sent to Cornwall,--a +trusty fellow. It cannot be but that he will bring Isolde over +the sea here to you!" + +He has understood, Tristan has understood, and started up ablaze, +so beside himself with joy that after the great incredulous cry: +"Isolde is coming! Isolde is near!" he struggles vainly for breath +and words. Then his overflowing gratitude finds an immediate, a +pertinent thing to do, and Kurwenal has all in a moment the reward +of his long passionately-devoted service. The master in his madness +of joy throws his arms around the servant to whom he owes the hope +which in a moment has made him strong and well again. "My Kurwenal, +you faithful friend, whose loyalty knows no wavering, how shall +Tristan ever thank you? My shield and defence in battle and warfare, +in pleasure and pain equally prompt at command,--whom I have hated, +you have hated, whom I have cherished, you have cherished; when +in all truth I served the good Mark, how were you true to him as +gold! When I must betray the noble King, how willingly did you +deceive him! Not your own, but wholly mine, you suffer with me when +I suffer, but what I suffer--that you cannot suffer!" As before the +excitement of his pain, now the excitement of his joy is gradually +turning to delirium. "This dreadful longing which consumes me, +this languishing fire which devours me, if I could describe it, +if you could comprehend it, not here would you loiter but would +haste to the watch-tower, with every sense astrain longingly would +you reach out and spy toward the point where her sail shall appear, +where, blown by the wind and urged on by the fire of love, Isolde +comes steering to me!... There it comes!..." he points wildly, +"There it comes, with brave speed!... See it wave, see it wave, +the pennant at the mast!... The ship! The ship! It streaks along +the reef! Do you not see it?... Kurwenal, do you not see it?" With +watchful intensity he scans Kurwenal's face. Kurwenal hesitates, +between the wish to humour him by going to the watch-tower, and +the fear of leaving him, when the shepherd's pipe is heard again in +the same plaintive tune, and Kurwenal has no heart to pretend. "No +ship as yet on the sea!" he announces heavily. Tristan's excitement, +as the notes spin out their thin music, whose message he seems to +divine, gradually dies; the happy delusion fades; a deeper sadness +than ever, of reaction, closes down upon him. The minor strains +which now for a moment hold his flickering attention are full of +associations for him, all sorrowful. The sound of them came wafted +to him upon the breath of evening when as a child he was told the +manner of his father's death; it came again, plaintive and more +deeply plaintive, in the morning grey, when he learned his mother's +fate. And in their day, he wanderingly reflects, "when leaving an +unborn son he died; when she in dying gave me birth, the ancient +air, full of yearning and foreboding, no doubt pierced its sorrowful +way to them too,--the ancient air, which has asked me before this, +and asks me again in this hour, to what possible end, what destiny, +I was born into the world?... To what destiny?... The ancient song +tells me over again: To spend myself in longing and to die!... + +"No! No!" he in a moment corrects himself, and his misery surges +back upon him in all its violence, "That is not what it says! Longing! +Longing! To spend myself in longing, not in longing to find death! +This longing which cannot die to the distant physician calls out +for the peace of death!" Confused images crowd upon him of the +beginning of this affliction. The voyage to Ireland, the wound +of which he was dying, her healing of his wound--only to open it +again; her offering him the poisoned cup which when he drank, hoping +to be cured of ills forever, a fiery charm was upon him, dooming +him never to die, but exist eternally in torture! We remember how +in the fragrant summer night and the balmy presence of Isolde he +blessed the magic draught which opened the region of all enchantment; +but in this hour, parted from her, it seems, forever, the draught +which keeps him vainly aching for her presence, which will not +let him die apart from her, or find a little rest, which makes +him a spectacle of torture for the Day to feed its eyes upon, the +draught seems to him verily no blessing. They are the bitter dregs +he is drinking now of the cup of wonder. "The dreadful draught," +he terms it, and reaching, with the enumeration of his sufferings, +the point of cursing it, he has the flashed intuition of a truth; +by a poet's spring reaches a conclusion worthy of a philosopher: +that he, he himself is responsible for the effect upon him of the +drink. "The dreadful draught," he cries, "which devoted me to torment, +I myself, I myself, I brewed it! From my father's anguish and my +mother's woe, from the tears of love of all my life, from laughing +and weeping, joys and hurts, I furnished the poisoned ingredients +of the cup!" He had, more plainly, if we seize the sense of his +raving, fed and fostered an inherited emotional nature which made +him the cup's easy victim. And recognising it, he adds to his curse +upon the dreadful cup, with all the strength of his tortured heart, +his curse upon him who brewed it,--and exhausted with his own delirious +violence drops back in a swoon. Kurwenal, who has vainly striven to +calm his frenzy, now sees him with horror relapsed into deathlike +stillness; he calls him, laments over him and over this fatal love, +the world's loveliest madness, which rewards so ill those who follow +its lure. "Are you then dead?" he weeps, "Do you still live?... +Have you succumbed to the curse?" He listens almost hopelessly +for his breathing, and starts up with a return of joy: "No! He +lives! He rises! How softly his lips stir...."--"The ship!" Tristan +murmurs, "Do you not see it yet?"--"The ship?... Certainly!" the +poor nurse answers, with his determined cheerfulness, "It will +arrive this very day.... It cannot delay much longer!"--"And upon +it"--Tristan describes the vision which is calling back the light +to his eyes--"upon it, Isolde. How she beckons, how graciously +she drinks to our peace! Do you see her?... Do you not see her +yet?... How sweetly, lovely and gentle, she comes wandering over the +plains of the sea. On soft billows of joyous flowers she advances, +luminous, toward the land. She smiles comfort to me and delicious +rest, she brings me utmost relief.... Ah, Isolde, Isolde! How kind, +how fair are you!... What, Kurwenal," he breaks off with that return +to agitation toward which his fever by its law begins from the +moment of returning consciousness to drive his poor brain, till, +reaching a violence his strength cannot support, it plunges him +back exhausted into unconsciousness, "What, Kurwenal, you do not +see her? Away, to the watch-tower, dull-witted churl, that the +sight may not escape you which is so plain to me! Do you not hear +me?... To the tower! Quick, to the tower!... Are you there?... The +ship! The ship! Isolde's ship! You must--must see it! The ship!... +Is it possible," he cries despairingly, "that you do not see it yet?" +He has been starting up from his bed, in his eagerness. Kurwenal +has struggled with him to keep him down. While he hesitates as +before between obedience and fear to leave his patient, the servant +realises that the shepherd's pipe has changed its tune,--has changed +it for a shrill, lively, tripping air. He listens with all his +soul for a second, then with a shout of triumph dashes to the +battlements and sends his eyes sweeping the sea. "Ha! The ship!... +I see it nearing from the north!"--"Did I not know it?" Tristan +exults like a child. "Did I not say so? Did I not say she lived +and knit me still to life? From the world which for me contains +her only, how should Isolde have departed?" His joy is new life +poured into him; his agitation this time produces no exhaustion, +he has strength for the moment to squander. "Hahei! Hahei!" shouts +Kurwenal from his post, "How boldly it steers, how the sails strain +in the wind! How it chases, how it flies!"--"The pennant?... The +pennant?" Tristan holds his breath for the answer. "The bright +pennant of joy floats gaily from the topmast!"--"Cheer! The pennant +of joy!... In the bright light of day, Isolde coming to me! To +me, Isolde!... Do you see her self?"--"The ship has disappeared +behind the reef..." Tristan's joy drops like a shot bird. One seems +to feel his heart stop. "The reef?..." he asks trembling, "Is there +danger in it?... That is where the surf rages, the ships founder.... +Who is at the helm?"--"The safest of sea-men."--"Could he betray +me? Might he be a confederate of Melot's?"--"Trust him as you would +myself!"--"But you, wretch, are a traitor too!... Do you see her +again?"--"Not yet!"--"Lost!" wails Tristan--but at Kurwenal's shout +in a moment more that the ship has cleared the rocks and is sailing +up the safe channel into port, springs again to the peaks of joy +and promises Kurwenal the bequest of all his worldly goods. And now +Kurwenal from his outlook communicates that he sees Isolde,--she +is waving,--the keel is in the harbour,--Isolde has sprung ashore. +"Down!" Tristan orders wildly, "Down to the shore! Assist her! +Assist my lady!"--"I will bring her up here in my arms--trust to +them! But you, Tristan," the poor nurse stops on his hurried way +down to enjoin, "stay reliably on the bed!" + +Tristan, left alone, falls to tossing and writhing with impatience. +His burning fever is confused to his sense with the heat of the +sun, and this day of joy he calls the sunniest of all days. This +tumult of the blood, this julibant urge to action, this immeasurable +delight, this frenzy of joy, how, how to endure them prostrate +upon the couch? Up, bravely up and away, where hearts are alive +and throbbing! We can see his fever again working itself toward +delirium. It reaches this time complete madness. With the proud +cry: "Tristan, the hero, in jubilant strength has raised himself +up from death!" he in fact lifts himself suddenly quite up. And +then no doubt some reminder, at the violent motion, of his wound, +suggests to his madness its next wild fancy, that a sort of glory +is in a streaming wound, such as he bore while fighting Morold, +that he will meet Isolde in the same manner, gloriously bleeding, +not ignobly constrained by a bandage. And prompted by some obscure +instinct perhaps to relieve a torture of which his flaming brain +will not permit him duly to take account, he tears the wrappings +from his wound, shouting with gladness, and bidding his blood now +flow merrily forth. He jumps from the couch, he goes a few feet in +swaying progress toward the castle-gate: She who shall heal the +wound forever draws near like a hero, draws near bringing health, +let the world fade away before his victorious haste!... The victorious +haste has taken him a staggering step or two, when Isolde's voice +comes borne to him, calling before she appears. "Tristan, Tristan! +Beloved!" He stops short and listens, shocked out of the idea of +what he was trying to do, losing his grasp on the present. "What?... +Do I hear the light?" he falters, taken back by the spell of that +voice to the old time, when never the light called to him, or never +the beloved called to him out of the light, but ever and only out +of the night. The suggestion of the darkness now gathering over +his eyes is that the torch is going out,--her signal to him to +come. "To her!" therefore he cries, "To her!" and is making such +effort to hurry as one makes in a dream, when behold, there she is! +There she comes flying to him through the castle-gate, breathless +with her haste. He has strength enough still, in his transporting +joy, to get as far as her arms; but, with the relief of being caught +in them, all relaxes, he sinks to the earth. Frightened, she calls +him. He turns his eyes upon her with the last of their long yearning, +and softly breathes forth his life upon her name. He could not die +before she came, but now at once it is grown sweet and easy. + +Isolde cannot believe this which she seems to see. She falls on +her knees beside him, beseeches, coaxes, reproaches him, and wrings +her hands over his obdurate unresponse. "Just for one hour! Just +for one hour, be awake to me still! Such long days of terror and +yearning Isolde has endured for the sake of one hour to spend with +you! Will Tristan defraud her, defraud Isolde of this single +infinitely-short last earthly joy? The wound,--where? Let me heal +it, that we may have the joyous night together!... Oh, do not die of +the wound! Let the light of life go out for us clasped together!... +Too late! Too late!... Hard-hearted!... Do you punish me so with +ruthless sentence? Do you shut your heart to my complaint?... Only +once... only once more!... Look, he wakes! Beloved!..." Consciousness +mercifully forsakes her. She sinks senseless upon his body. + +Kurwenal has been standing apart with eyes bent in dumb and rigid +despair upon his master. A confused tumult of arms is heard. The +shepherd climbs hurriedly over the parapet with the announcement: +"A second ship!" Kurwenal starts from his trance of grief and rushes +to look off. He breaks into curses, recognising Mark and Melot +among the men just landed. His resolution is instantly taken. "Arms +and stones! Help me! To the gate!" With the shepherd's help he is +fastening and barricading the castle-gate, when Isolde's skipper +hurries in with the cry: "Mark is behind me with men-of-arms and +folk. Vain to attempt defence, we are overpowered!" Kurwenal does +not pause in his preparations: "While I live, no one shall look in +here! Take your post and help!" Brangaene's voice is heard, calling +her mistress. Kurwenal's excitement, his rage of determination +to keep the sight of those helpless embraced bodies sacred from +profane eyes, shuts his reason to every sign. Brangaene's cry to +him not to close the gate he takes to signify that she is in league +with the enemy. Melot's voice, just outside: "Back, madman! Bar not +the way!" calls forth a fierce laugh: "Hurrah for the day which +gives me the chance to have at you!" The gate resists but a moment; +Melot is first to break in. Kurwenal with a savage cry cuts him +down. Brangaene is heard calling to him that he labours under a +mistake; Mark calling upon him to desist from this insanity. He sees, +understands but one thing, to keep out these enemies of Tristan's, +defend the master to the last against this intrusion. He orders +one of his party to throw back Brangaene, who is coming by the +way of the wall; he hurls himself at the invaders now crowding +in. In self-defence they draw arms upon the slashing madman. He +extorts his death-wound as it were by force from one of them... + +Painfully he drags himself along the earth, until he can touch his +master's hand: "Tristan, dear lord! Chide not that the faithful +one comes along too!" The last note about him as he expires is +a fragment of the theme of determined cheerfulness, his pitiful +sick-nurse encouragements to Tristan. + +Brangaene has reached Isolde and is making frightened efforts to +restore her. Mark stands regarding the still forms with profound +emotion. Reproach is in his tone when he now speaks, as earlier, +the gentle complainingness of one in all things blameless, who, +doing all for the best, has met with unmerited suffering. "Dead! +All dead!" he mourns, "My hero! My Tristan! Most tenderly-beloved +friend! To-day again must you betray your friend, to-day when he +comes to give you proof of highest faith. Awake! Awake at the voice +of my sorrow, O faithless, faithfullest friend!" + +Brangaene's ministrations have brought back a little life to Isolde. +Brangaene holds her in her arms and labours to reassure her. "Hear +me, sweetest lady, happy news let me report. Would you not trust +Brangaene? For her blind fault she has made amends. When you +disappeared, quickly she sought the King. No sooner had the secret +of the potion been made known to him than in all haste he put to +sea, to overtake you, to renounce you, to lead you himself to the +friend!" Mark completes the revelation: "When I was brought to +understand what before I could not grasp, how happy was I to find +my friend free from blame! To wed you to the peerless hero with +full sails I flew in your wake,--but how does ravaging misfortune +overtake him who came bringing peace! I but made greater the harvest +of death! Madness heaped the measure of disaster!" + +Isolde has neither heard what they say, nor does she appear to +recognise them. Half of her clearly has gone with Tristan, the +rest is near taking wing, according to her word: "Where Tristan's +house and home, there will Isolde abide." Her own swan-song takes +us a little way with her into her _Liebes-tod_, her love-death. +Her eyes, fixed in contemplation of his face, have the vision of +it returning to life. She sees him re-arise, powerful and loving, +growing in glory till he assumes transcendent splendour. "Do you +see it, friends,--do you not see it?" she asks, of what shines +so vividly before her that her face is transfigured as if with +reflected light. And music is shed from this luminous ascending +form.... "Am I alone to hear it?" she exclaims, it is so clear +to her,--music wonderful and soft, which says everything, which +gently reconciles one to all. It grows, it swells, it penetrates, +uplifts.... And what is this enfolding her? Floods of soft air! +Billows of perfume! They softly surge and murmur around her.... +She is in wonder whether to inhale, or to listen, or drink and +be immersed and yield up the breath sweetly amid perfumes.... Ah, +yes, in the billowing surge, in the great harmony, in the breath +of the spheres, to sink under, to drown, to be lost... that, that +will be the supreme ecstasy!... As the mysterious experiences she +describes absorb her soul, her body sinks softly upon Tristan's. +Mark extends his hands in blessing over the dead. + + +And so the curtain fans on this wonderful and moving drama, and +the thousands scatter in an exalted mood, impressed once more with +the incomprehensible loveliness of love. The point of fascination +of this work does not lie surely in any celebration of enviable +joys, or sorrows nearly as enviable; it is not that it is spiritual, +which would strengthen its appeal for some, neither that it is +sensuous, which would make it alluring to others; it is that it +breathes love,--love, indefinable but unmistakable, mysterious but +absolute, understood of all, explainable by none, and of greater, +or at least more universal, interest than any other emotion. Those +equally fitted to enjoy all Wagner's operas show, it is observed, +a predilection usually for Tristan and Isolde. If the pre-eminent +beauty of the music accounts for this, the fact suggests none the +less that Wagner could reach his utmost eloquence on the theme. It +is as if the composer had wished for once a fair field to render +all he felt and understood of love, and so had chosen a story in +which it moves free from ordinary trammels and is permitted an +intensity more prolonged, more fervid deeps, languors more abandoned, +than love in the shackles of thought and will. + +A thing which must not be forgotten. The love of Tristan and Isolde +is not to be brought under the head of what is vulgarly termed a +guilty love. We have seen how Mark learning the secret of the potion +instantly and completely exonerated them and rejoiced that he could +return to his faith in Tristan. We know little of love-potions, and +had best forget such attempts at rational explanation of them as +we may have read, accepting the old story as it is offered, with +its cup of magic by which all struggle against the power of love +became vain. The lovers must be regarded as essentially innocent. +The language of their hearts is always perfectly noble, their music +is never sultry. + +It seems to matter less, in the case of this opera than of Wagner's +other operas, that one should be able to distinguish the motifs. When +Fasolt falls, or the dragon, or Mime, it is distinctly interesting +to know that the conspicuous phrase thrilling the air is the Curse +of the Ring; but we are easily willing to let Glances and Sighs +and the Effect of the Love-draught melt into one general fire of +tenderness. + +There is likewise less need in the case of this opera than, I think, +any other of Wagner's, to be familiar beforehand with the argument. +Any one seeing the Rhine-gold unprepared would probably not understand +anything whatever, as far as the story is concerned. The same is +in some degree true of Walkuere and Goetterdaemmerung; even of +Parsifal one need to know the inwardness of the plot. But Tristan +and Isolde can be grasped through the eye by the dullest. A Woman +is seen expressing great anger; there is a scene of coldness and +incrimination between her and a Man. They drink from a golden cup +and are from that moment lovers. They talk lengthily and most +mellifluously of love in a garden at night. They are surprised by +one with an evident right to be incensed. The lover is wounded. In +a different scene he lies dying. His love comes to him. He expires +in her arms and she follows him in death. Any one can understand, +everyone sympathises. + +In spite of which the study of the original text is full of great +reward; not only because one will hear the music after all with a +richer intellectual enjoyment, but even if one had no hope of hearing +the music. The text produces upon one to a singular extent--or do +we imagine it?--the effect of music. Its musical counterpart is +contained somehow in the written poetry, and mists rise before +our eyes when the small black type informs us that Isolde cries in +the ears of deaf love: "_Isolde rutt!... Isolde kam!_" no otherwise +than if the violins played upon our hearts. + + +LOHENGRIN + + +LOHENGRIN + +I + +Henry the Fowler, the German King, coming to Brabant to levy men-of-arms +for assistance against the Hungarian, has found the country distracted +with internal dissension, troubles in high places. These, as its +feudal head, he must settle before proceeding further. He summons +together the nobles of Brabant and holds his court in the open, +beneath the historical Oak of Justice, on the banks of the Scheldt, +by Antwerp. + +He calls upon Friedrich von Telramund, conspicuously involved in +the quarrel disturbing the land, to lay before him the causes of +this. The subject complies: The Duke of Brabant had on dying placed +under his guardianship his two children, the young girl Elsa and +the boy Gottfried. As next heir to the throne, his honour was very +particularly implicated in his fidelity to this trust, the boy's +life was the jewel of his honour. Let the King judge then of his +grief at being robbed of that jewel! Elsa had taken her young brother +to the forest, ostensibly for the pleasure of woodland rambling, and +had returned without him, inquiring for him with an anxiety which +Telramund judged to be feigned, saying that she had accidentally +lost him a moment from sight and upon looking for him failed to find +trace of him. All search for the lost child had proved fruitless. +Elsa, accused and threatened by her guardian, had by blanched face +and terrified demeanour, he states, confessed guilt. A fearful +revulsion of feeling toward her had thereupon taken place in him; +he had relinquished the right to her hand, bestowed upon him by her +father, and taken to himself a wife more according to his heart, +Ortrud, descended from Radbot, Prince of the Frisians. Telramund +presents to the King the sombre-browed, haughty-looking Princess at +his side. "And now," he declares, "I here arraign Elsa von Brabant. +I charge her with the murder of her brother, and I lay claim in +my own right upon this land, to which my title is clear as next +of kin to the deceased Duke; my wife belonging, besides, to the +house which formerly gave sovereigns to this land." + +A murmur passes through the assembly, in part horror, in part +incredulity of so monstrous a crime. "What dreadful charge is this +you bring?" asks the King, in natural doubt; "How were guilt so +prodigious possible?" Telramund offers as explanation a further +accusation, and in doing it gives a hint, not of his motive in +accusing Elsa, for the violent ambitious personage is honest in +thinking her guilty, but of the disposition of mind toward her +which had made him over-ready to believe evil of her: "This vain +and dreamy girl, who haughtily repelled my hand, of a secret amour +I accuse her. She thought that once rid of her brother she could, +as sovereign mistress of Brabant, autocratically reject the hand +of the liegeman, and openly favour the secret lover." His excess +of vehemence in accusation for a moment almost discredits him. The +King demands to see the accused. The trial shall proceed at once. +He apprehends difficulty in the case: a charge so black against one +so young and a woman, made by a man so impassioned and almost of +necessity prejudiced, yet of long confirmed reputation for stern +integrity of honour as for bravery. "God give me wisdom!" the King +publicly prays. + +The King's herald asks if the court of justice shall be held on +the spot? The King in answer hangs his shield on the Justice-Tree, +declaring that this shield shall not cover him until he shall have +spoken judgment, stern yet tempered with mercy. The nobles all +bare their swords, declaring that these shall not be restored to +their scabbards until they shall have seen justice done. The herald +in loud tones summons the accused, Elsa von Brabant, to appear +before this bar. + +There advances slowly, followed by her women, a very young, very +fair girl, whose countenance and every motion are stamped with gentle +modesty. Between the dignity which upbears her and the sorrow which +crushes her, she is pathetic as a bruised lily. She looks dreamy +withal, as Telramund described her; her expression is mournfully +abstracted, her eyes are on the ground. The murmur passes from +lip to lip at sight of her: "How innocent she looks! The one who +dared to bring against her such a heavy accusation must be sure +indeed of her guilt." + +She answers the King's first question, of her identity, by a motion +of the head alone. One divines that she has wept so much she could +only with difficulty summon up voice to speak. "Do you acknowledge +me as your rightful judge?" the King proceeds. She lifts her eyes +for a moment to read his, and slowly nods assent. "Do you know," +he asks further, "whereof you are accused?" Her eyes slide for a +second toward Telramund and Ortrud, and she answers by an involuntary +shudder. "What have you to reply to the accusation?" With infinite +dignity she sketches a meek gesture signifying, "Nothing!"--"You +acknowledge then your guilt?" A faint cry, hardly more than a sigh, +breaks from her lips: "My poor brother!" and she remains staring +sorrowfully before her, as if upon a face invisible to the others. + +Struck and moved, the good King, whom we heard promise that his +sentence should be _streng und mild_, severe yet merciful, speaks +kindly now to this strange girl, standing in such danger, yet engrossed +in other things,--invites her confidence. "Tell me, Elsa, what have +you to impart to me?" With her eyes fixed upon vacancy, she answers, +almost as if she spoke in sleep: "In the darkness of my lonely +days, I cried for help to God. I poured forth the deep lament of my +heart in prayer. Among my moans there went forth one so plaintive, +so piercing, it travelled with mighty vibrations far upon the air. +I heard it resound at a vast distance ere it died upon my ear. +My eyelids thereupon dropped, I sank into sweet slumber...." + +All look at her in amazement. She stands before a tribunal on a +matter of life and death, and with that rapt look offers a plea +of such irrelevancy! "Is she dreaming?" ask some, under-breath, +and others, "Is she mad?" + +The King tries to bring her to a sense of reality, a sense of her +peril. "Elsa!" he cries urgently, "speak your defence before this +court of justice!" But she goes on, with an air of dreamy ecstasy: +"All in the radiance of bright armour, a Knight drew near to me, +of virtue so luminous as never had I seen before! A golden horn +hung at his side, he leaned upon his sword. He came to me out of +the air, the effulgent hero. With gentlest words and action he +comforted me. I will await his coming, my champion he shall be!" + +Her audience is impressed by the look of inspiration with which +she tells her tale of vision. "The grace of Heaven be with us," +they say, "and assist us to see clearly who here is at fault!" + +The King in doubt turns to Telramund: "Friedrich, worthy as you +are of all men's honour, consider well who it is you are accusing!" +"You have heard her," the haughty lord answers excitedly; "she is +raving about a paramour! I am not deceived by her dreamy posturing. +That which I charge her with, I have certain ground for. Her crime +was authoritatively proved to me. But to satisfy your doubt by +producing testimony, that, verily, would ill become my pride. Here +I stand! Here is my sword! Who among you will fight with me, casting +slur upon my honour?"--"None of us!" comes promptly from the +Brabantians, "We only fight for you!" The high-tempered gentleman +turns somewhat violently upon the King: "And you, King, do you +forget my services, my victories in battle over the wild Dane?" +The King answers pacifyingly that it would ill beseem him to need +reminding of these, that he renders to Telramund the homage due to +highest worth, and could not wish the country in any keeping but +his. God alone, in conclusion, shall decide this matter, too difficult +obviously for human faculty. "I ask you, therefore, Friedrich, Count +von Telramund, will you, in life and death combat, entrust your +cause to the judgment of God?" Telramund gives assent. "And you +I ask, Elsa von Brabant, will you entrust your cause to a champion +who shall fight for you under the judgment of God?" She assents +likewise. "Whom do you choose for your champion?" the King asks +of her. "Now--" eagerly interjects Telramund, "now you shall hear +the name of her lover!"--"Listen!" say the rest, with sharpened +curiosity. The girl has fixed her eyes again upon the vacancy which +to her apparently is full of things to see. "I will await the Knight. +My champion he shall be! Hear what to the messenger of God I offer +in guerdon. In my father's dominions let him wear the crown. Happy +shall I hold myself if he take all that is mine, and if he please +to call me consort I give him all I am!" + +Four trumpeters turn to the four points of the compass and blow +a summons. The herald calls loud: "He who will do battle here, +under judgment of God, as champion for Elsa van Brabant, let him +appear,--let him appear!" The vibrations die of horns and herald's +voice. There is silence and tension. No one appears, nothing happens. +Elsa, at first calm in her security of faith, gives evidence of +anxiety. Telramund calls attention to her: "Now witness, witness if +I have accused her falsely. Right, by that token, is on my side!" +Elsa with childish simplicity appeals to the King: "Oh, my kind +sovereign, let me beseech you, one more call for my champion! He +is far away, no doubt, and has not heard!" At the King's command, +the trumpets sound again, the herald repeats his summons. There +is no answer. The surrounding stillness is unbroken by movement +or sound. "By gloomy silence," the men murmur, "God signifies his +sentence!" Elsa falls upon her knees: "Thou didst bear to him my +lament, he came to me by Thy command. Oh, Lord, now tell my Knight +that he must help me in my need! Vouchsafe to let me see him as I +saw him before, even as I saw him before let him come to me now!" +The women kneel beside her, adding their prayers to hers. + +Elsa's last word has but died when a cry breaks from certain of +the company standing upon an eminence next the river. "Look! Look! +What a singular sight!"--"What is it?" ask the others. All eyes turn +toward the river. "A swan! A swan, drawing a skiff!... A knight +standing erect in it.... How his armour gleams! The eye cannot +endure such brightness.... See, he is coming toward us. The swan +draws the skiff by a golden chain! A miracle! A miracle!" + +Elsa stands transfixed, not daring to look around; but her women +look, and hail the approaching figure as that of the prayed-for +champion. Amazement at sight of him strikes Telramund dumb. Ortrud +upon a glance at the swan wears for one startled moment an expression +of unconcealable fear. He stands, the stranger, leaning on his +sword, in the swan-drawn boat; adorned with that excess of lovely +attribute not looked for save in figures of dream or of legend, +knightly in one and archangelic, with his flashing silver mail +and flowing locks and unearthly beauty. As the boat draws to land +all involuntarily bare their heads. Elsa at last finds hardihood +to turn; a cry of rapturous recognition breaks from her lips. + +He steps ashore. All in spell-bound attention watch for his first +action, his first words. These are for the swan, and contain not +much enlightenment for the breathless listeners. "Receive my thanks, +beloved swan. Return across the wide flood yonder from whence you +brought me. When you come back, let it be to our joy! Faithfully +fulfil your service. Farewell, farewell, my beloved swan!" The +mysterious bird slowly draws away from shore and breasts the river +in the direction from whence it came. The Knight looks after the +diminishing form with such effect of regret as would accompany +the departure of a cherished friend. + +Voices of wonder pass from person to person; wonder at his impressive +beauty, and at themselves for the not unpleasant terror it inspires, +the spell it casts over them. He turns at last and advancing toward +the King salutes him; "Hail, King Henry! God's blessing stand by +your sword! Your great and glorious name shall never pass from +earth!" The King, who from his throne beneath the oak has been +able to watch the stranger from the moment of his entering the +story, is not of two minds concerning so luminous an apparition. +"If I rightly recognise the power," he speaks, "which has brought +you to this land, you come to us sent by God?"--"I am sent," replies +the Knight, "to do battle for a maid against whom a dark accusation +has been brought. Let me see now if I shall tell her from among +the rest." With but a passing glance at the group of women, +unhesitatingly he singles out Elsa, undistinguishable from the +others by any sign of rank. "Speak, then, Elsa von Brabant! If I +am chosen as your champion, will you without doubt or fear entrust +yourself to my protection?" Elsa, who from the moment of seeing +him has stood in a heavenly trance, answers this with no discreet +and grudging acquiescence; she falls upon her knees at the feet +of this her deliverer and hero, and with innocent impetuousness +offers him, not assurance of confidence in his arm, or gratitude +for his succour, but the whole of herself, made up solely of such +confidence and gratitude. "Will you," asks the Knight, while a divine +warmth of tenderness invests voice and face, "if I am victorious in +combat for you, will you that I become your husband?"--"As I lie +here at your feet," the girl replies with passionate humility, "I +give over unto you body and soul!" Full of responsive love as is his +face, bent upon so much beauty and innocence and adoration, he does +not at once gather her up from her knees to his arms. Strangely, he +stops to make conditions. "Elsa, if I am to be called your husband, +if I am to defend your land and people, if nothing is ever to tear +me from your side, one thing you must promise me: Never will you +ask me, nor be concerned to know, from whence I came to you, nor +what my name and race."--"Never, my lord, shall the question rise +to my lips!" She has spoken too readily, too easily, as if she +scarcely considered. "Elsa, have you perfectly understood?" he +asks earnestly, and repeats his injunction more impressively still: +"Never shall you ask me, nor be concerned to know, from whence +I came to you, nor what my name and race!" But she, how should +she in this moment not promise whatever he asked or do whatever +be required? There is no question of pondering any demand of this +exquisite dream made flesh, this angelic being come in the darkest +hour to make all the difference to her between life and death. +As he has asked more earnestly, she replies more emphatically. +"My defender, my angel, my deliverer, who firmly believes in my +innocence! Could any doubt be more culpable than that which should +disturb my faith in you? Even as you will protect me in my need, +even so will I faithfully obey your command!" He lifts her then +to his breast with looks of radiant love, uttering the words which +confirm his action and make him her affianced. The people around +them gaze in moved wonder, confessing an emotion at sight of the +_wonnigliche Mann_ beyond natural, suggesting magic. + +The Silver Knight steps into the midst of the circle about the +Justice-Oak, and declares: "Hear me! To you nobles and people I +proclaim it: Free from all guilt is Elsa von Brabant. That you +have falsely accused her, Count von Telramund, shall now through +God's judgment be confirmed to you!" Telramund, obviously in grave +doubt, gazes searchingly in the face of this extraordinary intruder. +He is sure of his own integrity, relies perfectly on his private +information against Elsa; what then is an agent of Heaven's doing +on the opposite side? How can this be an agent of Heaven's at all? +While he hesitates, the Brabantian nobles warn him in undertones: +"Keep from the fight! If you undertake it, never shall you come +forth victorious! If he be protected by supernal power, of what +use to you is your gallant sword?" But Friedrich, true to his stiff +necked, proud self, bursts forth: "Rather dead than afraid!" and +violently addresses the stranger: "Whatever sorcery have brought +you here, stranger, who wear such a bold front, your haughty threats +in no wise move me, since never have I intended deceit. I accept +your challenge, and look to triumph by the course of justice!" + +The lists are set, the ground of the duel is marked off with spears +driven into the earth. When all is ready, the herald in solemn +proclamation warns all present to refrain from every sort of +interference, the penalty for any infringement of this rule to +be, in the case of a noble, the loss of his hand, in the case of +a churl, the loss of his head. He then addresses himself to the +combatants, warning them to loyally observe the rules of battle, +not by any evil art or trick of sorcery to disturb the virtue of +the judgment. God is to judge them according to custom in such +ordeals; in Him let them place their trust and not in their own +strength. The two champions with equal readiness declare themselves +prepared to obey this behest. The King descends from his throne, +removes his regal crown, and, while all beside uncover and unite +in his prayer, solemnly he makes over, as it were, his function +of judge to God. "My Lord and my God, I call upon Thee, that Thou +be present at this combat. Through victory of the sword speak Thy +sentence, and let truth and falsehood clearly appear. To the arm +of the righteous lend heroic strength, unstring the sinews of the +false! Help us Thou, O God, in this hour, for our best wisdom is +folly before Thee!" + +Each of the persons present feels certain of victory for his own +side, even dark Ortrud, with the black secrets of her conscience, +who believes in no messengers from God, and pins her faith to the +well-tested strength of her husband's arm. + +At the thrice-repeated blow of the King's sword upon his shield, the +combatants enter the lists. The duel lasts but a moment. Friedrich +falls, not from any wound, but from the lightening flash of the +adversary's sword, brought down upon him with a great sweep. The +mysterious weight of it crushes him to the earth, overthrows him, +deprives him of force to rise again. The gleaming enemy stands over +him with sword-point at his throat: "By victory through God your +life now belongs to me. I give it you. Make use of it to repent!" + +In the rejoicings that follow, the acclamations of the victorious +champion of innocence, no one takes any thought further of the +vanquished. Unnoticed he writhes, appalled at the recognition that +very God has beaten him, that honour--honour is lost! The wife struggles +with a different emotion. Her eyes, unimpressed by his splendour, +unconvinced by his victory, boldly scrutinise the countenance of +the Swan-brought, to discover the thing he had forbidden Elsa to +inquire, what manner of man he be. Who is this, she asks herself, +that has overcome her husband, that has placed a term to her power? +Is it one whom verily she need fear? Must she give up her hopes +because of him? + +II. + +The Second Act shows the great court in the citadel of Antwerp, +bounded at the back by the Palace, where the knights are lodged; +at the left, by the Kemenate, the women's apartments; at the right, +by the Minster. It is night. The windows of the Palace are brightly +lighted; smothered bursts of music from time to time issue forth +from them. Telramund and Ortrud, in the poor garb of plebeians, +sit on the church-steps. Excommunication and banishment, following +the condemnation of God signified by such defeat as Telramund has +suffered, have made of them beggars and fugitives. Telramund is +sunk in dark reflection. Ortrud, half-crouched like a dangerous +animal lying in wait, stares intently at the lighted windows. With +sudden effort of resolve Telramund rouses himself and gets to his +feet. "Come, companion of my disgrace!" he speaks to the woman +beside him; "Daybreak must not find us here." She does not stir. +"I cannot move from here," she answers; "I am spell-bound upon +this spot. From the contemplation of this brilliant banqueting of +our enemies let me absorb a fearful mortal venom, whereby I shall +bring to an end both our ignominy and their rejoicing!" Friedrich +shudders, in spite of himself, at such incarnate malignity as seems +represented by that crouching form, those hate-darting eyes. The +sense seizes him, too, in the dreadful soreness of his lacerated +pride, how much this woman is responsible for what he has suffered. +"You fearful woman!" he cries, "What is it keeps me still bound to +you? Why do I not leave you alone, and flee by myself away, away, +where my conscience may find rest? Through you I must lose my honour, +the glory I had won. The praise that attaches to fair fame follows +me no more. My knighthood is turned to a mock! Outlawed, proscribed +am I, shattered is my sword, broken my escutcheon, anathemised +my house! Whatever way I turn, all flee from me, accursed! The +robber himself shuns the infection of my glance. Oh, that I had +chosen death sooner than life so abject and miserable!..." With +the agonised cry, "My honour, oh, my honour! I have lost my honour!" +he casts himself face downward upon the ground. + +Ortrud has not stirred, or taken her eyes from the bright orange-gold +windows. As Telramund's harsh voice ceases, music is heard again +from the banquet-hall. Ortrud listens till it has died away; then +asks, with cold quiet: "What makes you waste yourself in these +wild complaints?"--"That the very weapon should have been taken +from me with which I might have struck you dead!" he cries, stung +to insanity. Scornfully calm and cold as before, "Friedrich, you +Count of Telramund, for what reason," she asks, "do you distrust +me?" Hotly he pours forth his reasons. "Do you ask? Was it not your +testimony, your report, which induced me to accuse that innocent +girl? You, living in the dusky woods, did you not mendaciously +aver to me that from your wild castle you had seen the dark deed +committed? With your own eyes seen how Elsa drowned her brother +in the tarn? And did you not ensnare my ambitious heart with the +prophecy that the ancient princely dynasty of Radbot soon should +flourish anew and reign over Brabant, moving me thereby to withdraw +my claim to the hand of Elsa, the immaculate, and take to wife +yourself, because you were the last descendant of Radbot?"--"Ha! +How mortally offensive is your speech!" she speaks, but suppresses +her natural annoyance to continue: "Very true, all you have stated, +I did say, and confirmed it with proof."--"And made me, whose name +stood so high in honour, whose life had earned the prize due to highest +virtue, made me into the shameful accomplice of your lie!"--"Who +lied?" she asks coolly. "You!" he unceremoniously flings at her; +"Has not God because of it, through his judgment, brought me to +shame?"--"God?..." She utters the word with such vigour of derision +that he involuntarily starts back. "Horrible!" he shudders after a +moment; "How dreadful does that name sound upon your lips!"--"Ha! +Do you call your own cowardice God?" He raises against her his +maddened hand: "Ortrud!..."--"Do you threaten me? Threaten a woman?" +she sneers, unmoved; "Oh, lily-livered! Had you been equally bold +in threatening him who now sends us forth to our miserable doom, +full easily might you have earned victory in place of shame. Ha! +He who should manfully stand up to the encounter with him would +find him weaker than a child!"--"The weaker he," Telramund observes, +ill-pleased, "the more mightily was exhibited the strength of +God!"--"The strength of God!... Ha, ha!" laughs loud Ortrud, with +the same unmoderated effect of scorn and defiance, which sends her +husband staggering back it step, gasping. "Give me the opportunity," +she proceeds, with a return to that uncanny quiet of hers, "and I +will show you, infallibly, what a feeble god it is protects him!" + +Telramund is impressed. She is telling him after all that which he +would like to believe. Still, the impression of the day's events is +strong upon him,--his overthrow at God's own hand. After that, how +dare he trust her? And yet-- But then again-- "You wild seeress," he +exclaims, torn with doubt, "what are you trying, with your mysterious +hints, to entangle my soul afresh?" She points at the Palace, from +the windows of which the lights have disappeared. "The revellers +have laid them down to their luxurious repose. Sit here beside +me! The hour is come when my seer's eye shall read the invisible +for you." Telramund draws nearer, fascinated, reconquered to her by +this suggestion of some dim hope rearising upon his blighted life. +He sits down beside her and holds close his ear for her guarded +tones. "Do you know who this hero is whom a swan brought to the +shore?"--"No!"--"What would you give to know? If I should tell you +that were he forced to reveal his name and kind there would be an +end to the power which laboriously he borrows from sorcery?"--"Ha! +I understand then his prohibition!"--"Now listen! No one here has +power to wring from him his secret, save she alone whom he forbade +so stringently ever to put to him the question!"--"The thing to +do then would be to prevail upon Elsa not to withhold from asking +it!"--"Ha! How quickly and well you apprehend me!"--"But how should +we succeed in that?"--"Listen! It is necessary first of all not +to forsake the spot. Wherefore, sharpen your wit! To arouse +well-justified suspicion in her, step forward, accuse him of sorcery, +whereby he perverted the ordeal!"--"Ha! By sorcery it was, and +treachery!"--"If you fail, there is still left the expedient of +violence."--"Violence?"--"Not for nought am I learned in the most +hidden arts. Every being deriving his strength from magic, if but +the smallest shred of flesh be torn from his body, must instantly +appear in his original weakness."--"Oh, if it might be that you +spoke true!" wistfully groans Telramund. "If in the encounter you +had struck off one of his fingers," Ortrud continues, "nay, but +one joint of a finger, that hero would have been in your power!" +Rage and excitement possess Telramund at the retrospect of the +combat in which he had been beaten, not, as he had supposed, by God, +but by the tricks of a sorcerer, and at the prospect of avenging his +disgrace, proving his uprightness, recovering his honour. But--he +is checked by a sudden return of suspicion of this dark companion and +adviser. "Oh, woman, whom I see standing before me in the night," +he addresses the dim figure, "if you are again deceiving me, woe to +you, I tell you, woe!" She quiets him with the promise of teaching +him the sweet joys of vengeance. A foretaste of these they have, +sitting on the minster-steps, gloating upon the walls which enclose +the unconscious foes. "Oh, you, sunk in sweet slumber, know that +mischief is awake and lying in wait for you!" + +A door opens in the upper story of the Kemenate. A white figure +steps out on to the balcony and leans against the parapet, head +upon hand. The pair in the shade watch with suspended breath, +recognising Elsa. She is too happy, obviously, to sleep; her heart +is too heavily oppressed with gratitude for all that this wonderful +day has brought. The well-born gentle soul that she is must be +offering thanks to everything that has contributed to this hour; +and so, girlishly, she speaks to the wind: "You breezes, whom I +used so often to burden with my sadness and complaints, I must +tell you in very gratitude what happy turn my fortunes have taken! +By your means he came travelling to me, you smiled upon his voyage, +on his way over the wild waves you kept him safe. Full many a time +have I troubled you to dry my tears. I ask you now of your kindness +to cool my cheek aglow with love!" Ortrud has kept basilisk eyes +fixed upon the sweet love-flushed face touched with moonlight. +"She shall curse the hour," speaks the bitter enemy in her teeth, +"in which my eyes beheld her thus!" She bids Telramund under-breath +leave her for a little while. "Wherefore?" he asks. "She falls to +my share," comes grimly from the wife; "take her hero for yours!" +Telramund slips obediently away into the black shadow. + +Ortrud watches Elsa for a time breathing her innocent fancies to +the wind; then abruptly cuts short the pastime, calling her name +in a loud, deliberately-plaintive tone. Elsa peers anxiously down +in the dark court. "Who calls me? How lamentably did my name come +shuddering through the night!"--"Elsa, is my voice so strange to +you? Is it your mind to disclaim all acquaintance with the wretch +whom you have driven forth to exile and misery?"--"Ortrud, is it +you? What are you doing here, unhappy woman?"--"Unhappy woman?..." +Ortrud repeats after her, giving the turn of scorn to the young +girl's pitying intonation; "Ample reason have you indeed to call me +so!" With dark artfulness she rouses in Elsa more than proportionate +compassion for her plight, by casting upon the tender-conscienced +creature the whole blame for it. In no scene does the youthfulness +of Telramund's ward appear more pathetically than in this. "In the +solitary forest, where I lived quiet and at peace, what had I done +to you," Ortrud upbraids, "what had I done to you? Living there +joylessly, my days solely spent in mourning over the misfortunes +that had long pursued my house, what had I done to you,--what had I +done to you?"--"Of what, in God's name, do you accuse me?" asks Elsa, +bewildered. Ortrud pursues in her chosen line of incrimination at all +cost: "However could you envy me the fortune of being chosen for wife +by the man whom you had of your free will disdained?"--"All-merciful +God," exclaims Elsa, "What is the meaning of this?"--"And if, blinded +by an unhappy delusion, he attributed guilt to you, guiltless, his +heart is now torn with remorse; grim indeed has his punishment +been. Oh, you are happy! After brief period of suffering, mitigated +by conscious innocence, you see all life smiling unclouded before +you. You can part from me well-pleased, and send me forth on my +way to death, that the dull shadow of my grief may not disturb your +feasts." + +Ortrud's policy is completely successful; this last imputation is +intolerable to the generous girl, made even more tender-hearted +than wont by her overflowing happiness. "What mean sense of Thy +mercies would I be showing," she cries, "All-powerful, who have +so greatly blessed me, should I repulse the wretched bowed before +me in the dust! Oh, nevermore! Ortrud, wait for me! I myself will +come down and let you in!" + +She hurries indoors. Ortrud has gained what she wanted, intimate +access to the young Duchess's ear, that she may pour her poison +into it. She has a moment's joy of triumph, while the fair dupe +is hastening down to her within. We discover at this point that +she is no Christian like the rest; that the secret gods of the +secret sorceress are the old superseded ones, Wotan and Freia. +For that reason it was the Silver Knight did not impress her as +he did the others. She could not admit that he came from God, the +false god whose name we heard her pronounce with such unconcealable +scorn; but, herself a witch, supposed that he performed the feat +through wizardry. She had explained the phenomenon to her husband +in good faith; she believed what she said, that were he forced +to tell his name, or might a shred of flesh be torn from him, he +would stand before them undisguised, shorn of his magic power. +Wild with evil joy at the success of her acting, she calls upon +her desecrated gods to help her further against the apostates. +"Wotan, strong god, I appeal to you! Freia, highest goddess, hear +me! Vouchsafe your blessing upon my deceit and hypocrisy, that +I may happily accomplish my vengeance!" + +At the sound of Elsa's voice calling: "Ortrud, where are you?" +she assumes the last abjectness. "Here!" she replies, cowering +upon the earth. "Here at your feet!" Simple Elsa's heart melts +at the sight, really out of all reason soft, out of all reason +unsuspecting. Yet she is infinitely sweet, in her exaggeration +of goodness, when she not only pardons, but begs pardon of this +fiendish enemy for what the latter may have had to suffer through +her. She eagerly puts out her hands to lift Ortrud from her knees. +"God help me! That I should see you thus, whom I have never seen +save proud and magnificent! Oh, my heart will choke me to behold +you in so humble attitude. Rise to your feet! Spare me your +supplications! The hate you have borne me I forgive you, and I +pray you to forgive me too whatever you have had to suffer through +me!"--"Receive my thanks for so much goodness!" exclaims feelingly the +accomplished actress. "He who to-morrow will be called my husband," +continues Elsa, in her young gladness to heap benefits, "I will +make appeal to his gentle nature, and obtain grace for Friedrich +likewise."--"You bind me to you forever with bonds of gratitude!" +With light innocent hand Elsa places the crowning one on top of +her magnanimous courtesies. "At early morning let me see you ready +prepared. Adorned in magnificent attire, you shall walk with me +to the minster. There I am to await my hero, to become his wife +before God. His wife!..." The sweet pride with which she says the +word, the soft ecstasy that falls upon her at the thought, stir in +Ortrud such hatred that she cannot forbear, even though the time +can hardly be ripe, taking the first step at once which is to result +in the quick ruin of the poor child's dreams. "How shall I reward +you for so much kindness, powerless and destitute as I am? Though by +your grace I should dwell beside you, I should remain no better +than a beggar. One power, however, there is left me; no arbitrary +decree could rob me of that. By means of it, peradventure, I shall be +able to protect your life and preserve it from regret."--"What do +you mean?" asks Elsa lightly. "What I mean is--that I warn you not +too blindly to trust in your good fortune; let me for the future +have care for you, lest disaster entangle you unaware." Elsa shrinks +back a little, murmuring, "Disaster?" Ortrud speaks with impressive +mystery close to her ear: "Could you but comprehend what marvellous +manner of being is the man--of whom I say but this: May he never +forsake you through the very same magic by which he came to you!" +Elsa starts away from Ortrud, in horror at such impiety,--disbelief +in the highest. But in a moment her displeasure gives way to sadness +and pity for the darkness in which this other woman lives. "Poor +sister!" she speaks, most gently, "you can hardly conceive how +unsuspecting is my heart! You have never known, belike, the happiness +that belongs to perfect faith. Come in with me! Let me teach you +the sweetness of an untroubled trust. Let me convert you to the +faith that there exists a happiness without leaven of regret!" This +warm young generous sweetness which makes Elsa open to any appeal, +blind to grossest fraud, merely exasperates Ortrud's ill-will. She +reads in it plain pride of superiority. As she could not admit in +the Knight of the swan a god-sent hero, she cannot see in Elsa an +uncommonly good-hearted girl. "Oh, that arrogance!" she is muttering +while Elsa is exhorting her; "It shall teach me how I may undo that +trustfulness of hers! Against it shall the weapons be turned, her +pride shall bring about her fall!"--Elsa by gesture inviting, the +other feigning confusion at so great kindness, the two pass into +the house together. + +The first grey of dawn lightens the sky. Telramund, who has been +spying unseen, exults to see mischief in the person of his wife +entering the house of the enemy. He is not an evil man, he cares +beyond all for honour, and his consciousness of a certain unfairness +in the methods his wife will use is implied in his exclamation; +but the violent man so rages under a sense of injustice that all +weapons to him are good which shall bring about the ruin of those who +have ruined him. "Thus does mischief enter that house! Accomplish, +woman, what your subtlety has devised. I feel no power to check you +at your work. The mischief began with my downfall; now shall you +plunge after me, you who brought me to it! One thing alone stands +clear before me: The robbers of my honour shall see destruction!" + +Daylight brightens. The warders sound the reveille from the turret. +Telramund conceals himself behind a buttress of the minster. The +business of the day is gradually taken up in the citadel court. The +porter unlocks the tower-gate that lets out on to the city-road; +servants come and go about their work, drawing water, hanging festive +garlands. At a summons from the King's trumpeters, nobles and burghers +assemble in great number before the Minster. The King's herald +coming out on the Palace-steps makes the following announcements: +Firstly: Banished and outlawed is Friedrich von Telramund, for +having undertaken the ordeal with a knowledge of his own guilt. +Any one sheltering or associating with him shall according to the +law of the realm come under the same condemnation. Secondly: The +King invests the unknown God-sent man, about to espouse Elsa, with +the lands and the crown of Brabant; the hero to be called, according +to his preference, not Duke, but Protector of Brabant. Thirdly: The +Protector will celebrate with them this day his nuptial feast, but +they shall join him tomorrow in battle-trim, to follow, as their +duty is, the King's arms. He himself, renouncing the sweetness of +repose, will lead them to glory. + +These proclamations are followed by general assent and gladness. +A small group there is, however, of malcontents, former adherents +of Telramund's, who grumble: "Hear that! He is to remove us out of +the country, against an enemy who has never so much as threatened +us! Such a bold beginning is ill-beseeming. Who will stand up against +him when he is in command?"--"I will!" comes from a muffled figure +that has crept among them, and Friedrich uncovers his countenance. +"How dare you venture here, in danger as you are from the hand of +every churl?" they ask him, frightened. "I shall dare and venture +more than this ere long, and the scales will drop from your eyes. +He who presumptuously calls you forth to war, I will accuse him of +treason in the things of God." The Brabantian gentlemen, afraid +of his being overheard or recognised, conceal the rash lord among +them, and compel him toward the church, out of sight. + +Forerunners of the wedding-procession, young pages come from the +Kemenate, and clear a way through the crowd to the church-door. A +long train of ladies walk before the bride. There are happy cheers +when she appears, dazzling in her wedding-pomp; there are blessings +and the natural expressions of devotion from loyal subjects. The +pages and ladies stand massed at either side of the Minster-door +to give their mistress precedence in entering. She is slowly, with +bashful lowered eyes, mounting the stairs, when Ortrud, who in +magnificent apparel has been following in her train, steps quickly +before her, with the startling command, given in a furious voice: +"Back, Elsa! I will no longer endure to follow you like a serving-maid! +Everywhere shall you yield me precedence, and with proper deference +bow before me!" This is, we believe, no part of any deep-laid plan +of Ortrud's, though it does in the event help along her scheme; it +is an uncontrollable outburst of temper at sight of Elsa in her +eminence of bridal and ducal glory. "What does the woman mean?" +ask the people of one another, and step between Elsa and her. "What +is this?" cries Elsa, painfully startled; "What sudden change has +taken place in you?"--"Because for an hour I forgot my proper worth," +Radbot's daughter continues violently, "do you think that I am +fit only to crawl before you? I will take measures to wipe out +my abasement. That which is due to me I am determined to +receive!"--"Woe's me!" complains Elsa, "Was I duped by your feigning, +when you stole to me last night with your pretended grief? And +do you now haughtily demand precedence of me, you, the wife of a +man convicted by God?" Ortrud sees here her opportunity again to +introduce the wedge of suspicion into her victim's mind. "Though a +false sentence banished my husband, his name was honoured throughout +the land, he was never spoken of save as the pattern of virtue. +His sword was well-tested and was feared--But yours, tell me, who +that is present knows him? You cannot even yourself call him by +his name!... Nay, but can you?" she taunts the shocked, pale-grown +bride, who has found no more than force to gasp,--"What does she +say? She blasphemes! Stop her lips!"--"Can you tell us whether +his lineage, his nobility, be well attested? From whence the river +brought him and whither he will go when he leaves? No, you cannot! +The matter, no doubt, would present difficulties, wherefore the +astute hero forbade all questioning!" Elsa has found her voice +at last, and speaks right hotly: "You slanderer! Abandoned woman! +Hear, whether I can answer you! So pure and lofty is his nature, +so filled with virtue is that noblest man, that never shall the +person obtain forgiveness who presumes to doubt his mission! Did +not my hero overcome your husband by the power of God in singular +combat? You shall tell me then, all of you, which of the two must +lawfully be held true?"--"Ha! That truth of your hero's!" mocks +Ortrud, fearfully ready of tongue; "How soon were it cast in doubt, +should he be forced to confess the sorcery by which he practises +such power! If you fear to question him concerning it, all may +believe with good right that you are not free yourself from the +suspicion that his truth must not be too closely looked into!" +Elsa is near fainting with the anguish of this encounter; her women +surround and comfort her. + +The doors of the Palace have opened, the King and the Knight of +the Swan, with great retinue of nobles, issue forth, bound for +the church and wedding-ceremony. They arrive upon the scene before +the confusion is allayed occasioned by the quarrel between vulture +and dove. Elsa runs to the arms of the Protector. Receiving her and +glancing naturally about for explanation, he beholds the dangerous +Ortrud, whom his clear eye reads, restored to splendour, part of the +wedding-train, and remarks upon it with amazement to the trembling +bride. "What do I see? That unhappy woman at your side?"--"My +deliverer," weeps Elsa, "shield me from her! Scold me, for having +disobeyed you! I found her in tears here before my door; I took +her in out of her wretchedness. Now see how dreadfully she rewards +my kindness!... She taunts me for my over-great trust in you!" The +Knight fixes his eyes sternly upon the offender, who somehow cannot +look back bold insult as she would wish, but stands spell-bound +under the calm severity of his glance. "Stand off from her, you +fearful woman. Here shall you never prevail!--Tell me, Elsa," he +bends over her tearful face, "tell me that she tried vainly to +drop her venom into your heart?" Elsa hides her face against his +breast without answering. But the gesture with its implied confidence +satisfies him; the tears increase his protecting tenderness. "Come!" +he draws her toward the church; "Let your tears flow in there as +tears of joy!" + +The wedding-train forms again and moves churchward in wake of King +and bride and groom. But the wedding to-day is not to come off +without check and interruption--an ill omen, according to the lore +of all peoples. As the bridal party is mounting the Minster-steps, +there starts up in front of it, before the darkly gaping door, +the figure of Telramund. The crowd sways back as if from one who +should spread infection, so tainted did a man appear against whom +God through his ordeal had spoken judgment. "Oh, King, oh, deluded +princes, stand!" he cries, barring their way. He will not be silenced +by their indignant threats; he makes himself heard in spite of +shocked and angry prohibitions. "Hear me to whom grim injustice +has been done! God's judgment was perverted, falsified! By the +tricks of a sorcerer you have been beguiled!" The King's followers +are for seizing and thrusting him aside; but the soldier, famous +no longer ago than yesterday for every sort of superiority, stands +his ground and says what he is determined to say. "The man I see +yonder in his magnificence, I accuse of sorcery! As dust before +God's breath, let the power be dispersed which he owes to a black +art! How ill did you attend to the matters of the ordeal which was +to strip me of honour, refraining as you did from questioning him, +when he came to undertake God's fight! But you shall not prevent +the question now, I myself will put it to him. Of his name, his +station, his honours, I inquire aloud before the whole world. Who +is he, who came to shore guided by a wild swan? One who keeps in +his service the like enchanted animals is to my thinking no true +man! Let him answer now my accusation. If he can do so, call my +condemnation just, but if he refuse, it must be plain to all that +his virtue will not bear scrutiny!" All eyes turn with unmistakable +interest of expectation toward the man thus accused; wonder concerning +what he will reply is expressed in undertones. + +He refuses point-blank, with a bearing of such superiority as an +attack of the sort can hardly ruffle. "Not to you, so forgetful +of your honour, have I need here to reply. I set aside your evil +aspersion; truth will hardly suffer from the like!"--"If I am in +his eyes not worthy of reply," Friedrich bitterly re-attacks, "I +call upon you, King, high in honour indeed. Will he, on the ground +of insufficient nobility, refuse likewise to answer you?" Aye, +the Knight refuses again, with an assurance partaking in no wise +of haughtiness, but speaking a noble consciousness of what he is +which places him above men's opinions. "Yes! even the King I must +refuse to answer, and the united council of all the princes! They +will not permit doubt of me to burden them, they were witnesses +of my good deed. There is but one whom I must answer. Elsa!" He +turns toward her with bright face of confidence, and stops short +at sight of her, so troubled, so visibly torn by inward conflict, +her bosom labouring, her face trembling. There is no concealing +it, she would have wished him to answer loudly and boldly, to crush +those mocking enemies, Ortrud and Telramund, with the mention of +a name, a rank, which should have bowed them down before him in +the dust, abject. There is silence, while all, entertaining their +respective reflections, watch Elsa, and she struggles with herself, +staring blindly ahead. His secret no doubt,--thus run her pitiable +feminine thoughts,--if revealed publicly like this would involve +him in some danger. Ungrateful indeed were it in her, saved by him, +to betray him by demanding the information here. If she knew his +secret, however, she would surely keep it faithfully.... But--but--she +is helpless against it, doubt is upheaving the foundations of her +heart! + +It is the good King who speaks the right, the pertinent word. "My +hero, stand up undaunted against yonder faithless man! You are +too indubitably great to consider accusations of his!" The nobles +readily accept the King's leadership, in this as in other matters. +"We stand by you," they say to the Knight. "Your hand! We believe +that noble is your name, even though it be not spoken."--"Never +shall you repent your faith!" the Knight assures them. While the +nobles crowd about him; offering their hands in sign of allegiance, +and Elsa stands apart blindly dealing with her doubt, Telramund +steals unperceived to her side and whispers to her: "Rely on me! +Let me tell you a method for obtaining certainty!" She recoils, +frightened, yet without denouncing him aloud. "Let me take from +him the smallest shred of flesh," he continues hurriedly, "the +merest tip of a finger, and I swear to you that what he conceals +you shall see freely for yourself...." In his eagerness, forgetful +really at last of honour, he adds the inducement, "And, true to +you forever, he will never leave you!"--"Nevermore!" cries Elsa, +not so vigourously, however, but that he finds it possible still +to add: "I will be near to you at night. Do but call me, without +injury to him it shall be quickly done!" The Knight has caught sight +of him and is instantly at Elsa's side, crying astonished, "Elsa, +with whom are you conversing?" The poor girl sinks overwhelmed with +trouble and confusion at his feet. "Away from her, you accursed!" +speaks the Knight in a terrible authoritative voice to the evil +pair; "Let my eye never again behold you in her neighbourhood!" +Gently he lifts the bride; he scans her face wistfully: "In your +hand, in your loyalty, lies the pledge of all happiness! Have you +fallen into the unrest of doubt? Do you wish to question me?" He +asks it so frankly and fearlessly, albeit sorrowfully; he stands +there so convincingly brave-looking and clear-eyed, full of the +calm effect of power, that Elsa gazing at him comes back to her +true self and answers with all her heart: "Oh, my champion, who +came to save me! My hero, in whom I must live and die! High above +all power of doubt my love shall stand!" He clasps her in his arms, +solemnly saluting her.... + +And once more the wedding-party sets itself upon the way to church. +Organ-music pours forth from the Minster-portals. With her foot on +the threshold the bride turns an eager, instinctive, searching, +almost frightened look upon the groom. In answer, he folds reassuring +arms around her. But, even so held, woman-like she looks back, in +spite of herself, over her shoulder, toward Ortrud, who receives +the timid glance with a detestable gesture of triumph. Properly +frightened, the bride turns quickly away, and the procession enters +the church. + +III + +It is night. The stately bridal apartment awaits its guests. Music is +heard, very faint at first, as if approaching through long corridors. +Preceded by pages with lights, there enter by different doors a train +of women leading Elsa, a train of nobles and the King leading the +Knight. + +The epithalamium is sung to its end. After grave and charming ceremony, +with blessings and good wishes, all withdraw, leaving the bride and +groom alone. Elsa's face is altogether clear again of its clouds; +all is forgotten save the immeasurable happiness which, as soon +as the doors discreetly close, impels her to his arms; clasped +together, seated upon the edge of a day-bed, they listen in silence +to their wedding-music dying slowly away. When all is still at +last, in the dear joy of being "alone, for the first time alone +together since first we saw each other," life seems to begin for +each upon new and so incredibly sweeter terms. The stranger knight, +whom mystery enwraps, shows himself, despite certain sweet loftiness +which never leaves him, most convincingly human. In the simplest +warm way, a way old-fashioned as love, we hear him rejoice: "Now we +are escaped and hidden from the whole world. None can overhear the +exchange of greetings between our hearts. Elsa, my wife! You sweet +white bride! You shall tell me now whether you are happy!"--"How +cold must I be to call myself merely happy," she satisfies him +liberally, "when I possess the whole joy of Heaven! In the sweet +glowing toward you of my heart, I know such rapture as God can +alone bestow!" He meets her gratitude with an equal and just a +little over. "If, of your graciousness, you call yourself happy, +do you not give to me too the very happiness of Heaven? In the +sweet glowing toward you of my heart, I know indeed such rapture as +God can alone bestow!" He falls naturally, happy-lover-like, into +talking of their first meeting and beginning love: "How wondrous do +I see to be the nature of our love! We had never seen, but yet had +divined, each other! Choice had been made of me for your champion, +but it was love showed me my way to you. I read your innocence in +your eyes, by a glance you impressed me into the service of your +grace!"--"I too," she eagerly follows, "had seen you already, you +had come to me in a beatific dream. Then when wide-awake I saw you +standing before me, I knew that you were there by God's behest. I +would have wished to dissolve beneath your eyes and flow about your +feet like a brook. I would have wished like a flower shedding perfume +out in the meadow to bow in gladness at your footfall. Is this +love?... Ah, how do my lips frame it, that word so inexpressibly +sweet as none other, save alas! your name... which I am never to +speak, by which I am never to call the highest that I know!" There +is no return indicated in this of any doubt of him. Elsa is in +this moment certainly all trust. It is but an expression of love +chafing a little at the reticence which seems a barrier one must +naturally wish away, if hearts are to flow freely together. Hardly +warningly, just lovingly, he interrupts her: "Elsa!"--"How sweetly" +she remarks enviously, "my name drops from your lips! Do you grudge +me the dear sound of yours? Nay, you shall grant me this boon, that +just in the quiet hours of love's seclusion my lips should speak +it...." He checks her, as before, unalarmed, without reproach, by an +exclamation of love. "My sweet wife!"--"Just when we are alone," +she coaxes, "when no one can overhear! Never shall it be spoken in +hearing of the outside world." Instead of answering directly, he +draws her to him and turns to the open casement overlooking the +garden; he gazes thoughtfully out into the summer night and answers +by a sort of tender object-lesson. "Come, breathe with me the mild +fragrance of the flowers.... Oh, the sweet intoxication it affords! +Mysteriously it steals to us through the air, unquestioningly I +yield myself to its spell. A like spell it was which bound me to +you when I saw you, Sweet, for the first time. I did not need to +ask how you might be descended, my eye beheld you, my heart at +once understood. Even as this fragrance softly captures the senses, +coming to us wafted from the enigmatic night, even so did your purity +enthrall me, despite the dark suspicion weighing upon you!" + +That she owes him much she is ready and over-ready to own. It is +almost embarassing to owe so much, to owe everything, and no means +of repaying, because the whole of oneself is after all so little. +"Oh, that I might prove myself worthy of you!" she sighs, "that +I need not sink into insignificance before you! That some merit +might lift me to your level, that I might suffer some torture for +your sake! If, even as you found me suffering under a heavy charge, +I might know you to be in distress! If bravely I might bear a burden +for you, might know of some sorrow threatening you! Can it be that +your secret is of such a nature that your lip must keep it from the +whole world? Disaster perhaps would overtake you, were it openly +published. If this were so, and if you would tell it to me, would +place your secret in my power, oh, never by any violence should +it be torn from me, for you I would go to death!" The bridegroom +cannot but be touched by such devoted gallant words from the fairest +lips. Off guard, he murmurs fondly, "Beloved!"--"Oh, make me proud +by your confidence, that I may not so deeply feel my unworthiness!" +she pleads, eagerly following up the advantage of his not having +yet remonstrated; "Let me know your secret, that I may see plainly +who you are!" Wilfully deaf to his imploring, "Hush, Elsa!" more +and more urgently she presses: "To my faithfulness reveal your +whole noble worth! Without fear of regret, tell me whence you came. +I will prove to you how strong in silence I can be!" + +Her words, all at once, their significance penetrating fully, have +brought a change in him. Gravely he moves apart from her, and his +voice is for a moment stern as well as sorrowful: "Highest confidence +already have I shown you, placing trust as I unhesitatingly did in +your oath. If you will never depart from the command you swore to +observe, high above all women shall I deem you worthy of honour." +But he cannot continue in that tone, the altogether human bridegroom. +At sight of the pained look his severity has produced, he goes +quickly again to her, he makes instant reparation for his momentary +harshness. "Come to my breast, you sweet, you white one!" he profusely +caresses and consoles; "Be close to the warmth of my heart! Bend +upon me the soft light of your eye in which I saw foreshining my +whole happiness!..." And just to satisfy her so far as he can, +to prove still further his great love, he proceeds: "Oh, greatly +must your love compensate me for that which I relinquished for +your sake! No destiny in God's wide world could be esteemed nobler +than mine. If the King should offer me his crown, with good right I +might reject it. The only thing which can repay me for my sacrifice, +I must look for it in your love. Then cast doubt aside forever. Let +your love be my proud security! For I came to you from no obscure +and miserable lot. From splendour and joy am I come to you!" Oh, +the ill-inspired speech! What he dreamed must unite closer, in the +momentary mood of the incalculable feminine being he is dealing +with, divides further. The thought is instantly back in her mind +which she had smothered and then forgotten, the idea suggested by +Ortrud, implied by Friedrich, that mysteriously as he came the +unknown Knight may presently be going away from her. The hour that +should have been so sweet and quiet in the "fragrant chamber adorned +for love" of the wedding-song, is turned to strain and dreadfulness. +"God help me!" wails her passionate alarm, "What must I hear? What +testimony from your own lips! In your wish to beguile me, you have +announced my lamentable doom! The condition you forsook, your highest +happiness lay bound in that. You came to me from splendour and joy, +and are longing to go back. How could I, poor wretch, believe that +my faithful devotion would suffice you? The day will come which +will rob me of you, your love being turned to rue!"--"Forbear, +forbear thus to torture yourself!"--"Nay, it is you, why do you +torture me? Must I count the days during which I still may keep +you? In haunting fear of your departure, my cheek will fade; then +you will hasten away from me, I shall be left forlorn."--"Never" +he endeavours to quiet her, "never will your winning charm lessen, +if you but keep suspicion from your heart."--"How should I tie +you to me?" she pursues undeterred her fatal train of thought; +"How might I hope for such power? A creature of weird arts are +you, you came here by a miracle of magic. How then should it fare +but ill with me? What security for you can I hold?" She shrinks +together in sudden terror and listens. "Did you hear nothing? Did +you not distinguish footsteps?"--"Elsa!"--"No, it is not that!... +But there..." she stares vacantly ahead, pointing,--her face how +changed from the sweet, glowing face of so short a time ago!--and +describes what her over-excited fancy paints on the empty air before +her: "Look there! The swan! The swan! There he comes, over the watery +flood.... You call him, he draws the boat to shore...."--"Stop, +Elsa! Master these mad imaginings!" the poor lover strives with +her, in despair.--"Nay, nothing can give me rest," she declares, +wholly unmanageable, wholly unreasonable, "nothing can turn me +from these imaginings, but, though I should pay for it with my +life, the knowledge who you are!"--"Elsa, what are you daring to +do?"--"Uncannily beautiful man, hear what I must demand of you: Tell +me your name!"--"Forbear!"--"Whence are you come?"--"Alas!"--"What +manner of man are you?"--"Woe, what have you done?" Elsa utters a +shriek, catching sight of Telramund with a handful of armed men +stealing in by the door behind her husband's back,--the explanation +of the sound she had heard. With a cry of warning, she runs for her +husband's sword and hands it to him. Quickly turning he rewards +Friedrich's ineffectual lunge with a blow that stretches him dead. +The appalled accomplices drop their swords and fall to their knees. +Elsa, who had cast herself against her husband's breast, slides +swooning to the floor. There is a long silence. The Knight stands, +deeply shaken, coming to gradual realisation of the whole sorrowful +situation. All the light, the bridegroom joy, have faded from his +face. With a quiet suggestive of infinite patience and some strange +superiority of strength, some unearthly resource, he considers this +ruin, his audible comment on it a single sigh, more poignant than +if it were less restrained: "Woe! Now is all our happiness over!" +Very gently he lifts Elsa, sufficiently revived to realise that she +has somehow worked irreparable destruction, and decisively places +her away from him. By a sign he orders Telramund's followers to their +feet and bids them carry the dead man to the King's judgment-place. +He rings a bell; the women who appear in answer, he instructs: +"To accompany her before the King, attire Elsa, my sweet wife! +There shall she receive my answer, and learn her husband's name +and state." + + +At daybreak the Brabantian lords and their men-at-arms are assembling +around the Justice-Oak in readiness to follow the King. The King, +with noble expressions of gratitude for their loyalty, takes command +of them. "But where loiters," he is inquiring, "the one whom God +sent to the glory, the greatness of Brabant?" when a covered bier is +borne before him and set down in the midst of the wondering company, +by men whom they recognise as former retainers of Telramund's. This +is done, explain these last, by order of the Protector of Brabant. + +Elsa attended by her ladies appears at the place of gathering. +Her pale and sorrow-struck looks are attributed naturally to the +impending departure of her husband for the field. + +Armed in his flashing silver mail, as he was first seen of them, +he now appears on the spot. Cheers greet him from those whom he +is to lead to battle and victory. When their shouts die, he makes, +standing before the King, the startling announcement that he cannot +lead them to battle, the brave heroes he has convoked. "I am not +here as your brother-of-arms," he informs their consternation; +"You behold me in the character of complainant. And, firstly..." +he solemnly draws the pall from the dead face of Telramund, "I +make my charge aloud before you all, and ask for judgment according +to law and custom: This man having surprised and assailed me by +night, tell me, was I justified in slaying him?"--"As your hand +smote him upon earth," the horrified spectators cry in a voice, +"may God's punishment smite him yonder!"--"Another accusation must +you hear," the Knight continues; "I speak my complaint before you +all. The woman whom God had given to my keeping has been so far +misguided as to forget her loyalty to me!" There is an outcry of +sorrowful incredulity. "You all heard," he proceeds, steeled to +severity, "how she promised me never to ask who I am? She has broken +that sacred oath. To pernicious counsel she yielded her heart. No +longer may I spare to answer the mad questioning of her doubt. +I could deny the urgency of enemies, but must make known, since +she has willed it, my name,--must reveal who I am! Now judge if +I have reason to shun the light! Before the whole world, before +the King and kingdom, I will in all truth declare my secret. Hear, +then, if I be not equal in nobility to any here!" There runs a +murmur through all the impressed multitude, not of curiosity, but +regret that he should be forced to speak; the uneasy wish is felt +that he might not. + +His face has cleared wonderfully. As his inward eye fixes itself +upon images of the home, the _Glanz und Wonne_, he is about to +describe, memory lights his countenance as if with the reflection +of some place of unearthly splendour. "In a far land," his words +fall measured and sweet, "unapproachable to footsteps of yours, +a fastness there stands called Monsalvat. In the centre of it, +a bright temple, more precious than anything known upon earth. +Within this is preserved as the most sacred of relics a vessel of +blessed and miraculous power. It was brought to earth by a legion +of angels, and given into the guardianship of men, to be the object +of their purest care. Yearly there descends from Heaven a Dove, to +strengthen anew its miraculous power. It is called the Grail, and +there is shed from it into the hearts of the knights that guard +it serene and perfect faith. One chosen to serve the Grail is armed +by it with over-earthly power; against it no evil art can prevail, +before the vision of it the shades of death disperse. One sent by +it to distant countries to champion the cause of virtue retains +the holy power derived from it as long as he remains unknown. Of +nature so mysteriously sublime is the blessing of the Grail that +if disclosed to the layman's eye it must withdraw. The identity +of a Knight of the Grail must therefore not be suspected. If he +is recognised--he must depart! Now hear my reply to the forbidden +question. By the Holy Grail was I sent to you here. My father Parsifal +in Monsalvat wears the crown. A Knight of the Grail am I and my +name is Lohengrin!" + +The people gaze at him in awe and worshipping wonder. The unhapppy +Elsa, feeling the world reel and grow dark, gasps for air and is +falling, when Lohengrin catches her in his arms, all his sternness +melting away, his grief and love pouring forth in tender reproach. +"Oh, Elsa, what have you done to me? From the first moment of beholding +you, I felt love for you enkindling my heart, I became aware of an +unknown happiness. The high faculty, the miraculous power, the +strength involved in my secret, I wished to place them all at the +service of your purest heart. Why did you wrest from me my secret? +For now, alas, I must be parted from you!" She expends herself in +wild prayers to be forgiven, to be punished by whatsoever affliction, +only not to lose him. He feels sorrow enough, immeasurable sorrow, +heart-break, but not for an instant hesitation. "The Grail already is +offended at my lagging! I must--must go! There is but one punishment +for your fault, and its hard anguish falls equally upon me. We +must be parted,--far removed from each other!" He turns to the +King and nobles imploring him to remain and lead them as he had +promised against the enemy. "Oh, King, I may not stay! A Knight of +the Grail, when you have recognised him, should he disobediently +remain to fight with you, would have forfeited the strength of +his arm. But hear me prophesy: A great victory awaits you, just +and single-hearted King! To the remotest days shall the hordes +of the East never march in triumph upon Germany!" + +From the river-bank comes a startling voice: "The swan! The swan!" +All turn to look. A cry of horror breaks from Elsa. The swan is +seen approaching, drawing the empty boat. Less master of himself +than theretofore, Lohengrin, realising the last parting so near, +gives unmistakable outward sign of his inward anguish. "The Grail +already is sending for the dilatory servant!..." Going to the water's +edge he addresses to the snowy bird words which no one can quite +comprehend. "My beloved swan, how gladly would I have spared you +this last sorrowful voyage. In a year, your period of service having +expired, delivered by the power of the Grail, in a different shape +I had thought to see you.--Oh, Elsa," he returns to her side, "oh, +that I might have waited but one year and been witness of your joy +when, under protection of the Grail, your brother had returned +to you, whom you thought dead!... When in the ripeness of time he +comes home, and I am far away from him in life, you shall give +him this horn, this sword, this ring...." He places in her hands +the great double-edged sword, the golden horn from his side, the +ring from his finger. "This horn when he is in danger, shall procure +him help. This sword, in the fray, shall assure him victory. But when +he looks at the ringlet him think of me who upon a time delivered +you from danger and distress. Farewell, farewell! My sweet wife, +farewell! The Grail will chide if I delay longer.... Farewell!" +He has kissed over and over again the face of the poor woman who, +annihilated by grief, has not the power to make motion or sound. +He places her, with terrible effort of resolution, in the arms +at last of others, and hastens, amid general lamentation, to the +shore. + +Ortrud, lost in the crowd, has watched all. She has in reality +gained nothing by the disaster to Elsa, but she exults in it. Further +revenge for what she has suffered from Elsa's mere existence, for +the bitterness of her husband's death at the hand of Elsa's husband, +she seeks recklessly in a revelation which cannot but hold danger for +herself. In the insanity of her mingled despair and gloating hate, +her hurry to hurt, she does not wait until the powerful antagonist +be well out of the way of retorting--Lohengrin has but one foot as +yet in the boat,--before she cries, "Go your way home, go your +way, O haughty hero, that gleefully I may impart to this fair fool +who it is drawing you in your boat. By the golden chain which I +wound about him, I recognised that swan. That swan was the heir +of Brabant!--I thank you," she mockingly addresses Elsa, "I thank +you for having driven away the Knight. The swan must now betake +himself home with him. If he had remained here longer, that hero, +he would have delivered your brother too!" The whole dark scheme of +Ortrud's ambition now lies bare: She had compassed the disappearance +of the heir to the crown of Brabant, changing him by magic art into +a swan; had cast the guilt of his disappearance upon Elsa, and +married the man who upon Elsa's condemnation would have become +Duke. Through no neglect of her own was Ortrud's brow still bare +of the crown. At the cry of execration that greets her revelation, +she faces them all, drawn up to her proud height, and announces: +"Thus do they revenge themselves, the gods from whom you turned +your worship!" + +But Lohengrin had not been too far, nor too engrossed in going, +to hear her words. The Knight of the Grail has sunk on his knees +and joined his hands in prayer. All eyes are upon him, his eyes +earnestly heavenward. For a long moment all is in motionless suspense. +A white dove flies into sight, and hovers over the boat. With the +gladness of one whose prayer is heard, Lohengrin rises and unfastens +the chain from the swan; this vanishes from sight, leaving in its +place a beautiful boy in shining garments, whom Lohengrin lifts to +the bank. "Behold the Duke of Brabant! Your leader he shall be!" +At sight of him, Ortrud utters a cry of terror, Elsa, drawn for +a moment out of her stupor, a cry of joy. She catches the brother +in her arms--But looking up, after the first transport of gladness, +and seeing the place empty where her husband had stood, his boat gone +from sight, forgetting all else, she sends after him a despairing +cry, "My husband! My husband!" + +In the distance, at a bend of the river, the boat reappears for +a moment, drawn now by the dove of the Grail. The Silver Knight +is seen standing in it, leaning on his shield, his head mournfully +bowed. Sounds of sorrow break from all lips. The sight pierces +like a sword through the heart of the forsaken bride. She sinks +to the ground _entseelt_--exanimate. + + +Such figures as play their part in this story, the Silver Knight, +with his swan and faery skiff, the fair falsely-accused damsel, the +wicked sorceress, could hardly be painted in flagrant life-colours. +The music of Lohengrin brings to mind pictures one seems to remember +on vellum margins of old books of legend, where against a golden +background shine forth vivid yet delicate shapes, in tints brilliant +yet soft as distance, the green of April, the rose of day-break, +the blue of remote horizons. + +There is an older story on these same lines, the story of Cupid +and Psyche, an allegory, we are told, of Love and the Soul. And an +allegory is meant to teach somewhat. And what does this teach--but +that one must be great? Not enough to be innocent, kind, loving, +pure as snow, like Elsa, a being golden and lovely through and +through, such as could lure down a sort of angel from his heaven. +Beside it all, great one must be. Life, the Sphinx, requires upon +occasion that one be great. Just a little greatness, so to speak, +and Elsa would first of all have recognised the obligation to keep +her word; would further have trusted what must have been her own +profound instinct about the man she loved, rather than the suggestions +of others troubling her shallow mind-surface. Had she been great, +we may almost affirm, she would have known that he was great; she +would have trusted truth and greatness though they came to her +unlabelled. + +But Life, the Sphinx, proposed to her a riddle, and because she +was no more than a poor, sweet, limited woman she could not solve +it, and Life ground her in its teeth and swallowed her up. + + +TANNHAeUSER + + +TANNHAeUSER + +I. + +We are shown in the Ouverture of Tannhaeuser the power which contended +for the young knight and minstrel's soul: the appeal of good is +symbolised by the solemn chant of the pilgrims; of evil, by the +voice of Venus, the song of the Sirens, the Bacchic dance. + +We are not informed how he came into the Hill of Venus, but when +we see him at the Landgrave's court, which we are told he forsook +of yore in offended pride, we think we divine. He is more greatly +gifted than any of his associates. By his sense of superiority he +is made--young and hot-blooded as he is,--haughty, quick, impatient. +They cannot suffer his overbearing way. We can imagine how upon an +occasion he left them, after a round quarrel, in a fury of vexation, +sick with disgust at the whole world of such slow, limited creatures, +the whole world of petty passions and narrow circumstances, in a +mood to sell himself to the Devil for something in life which should +seem to him worth while, of satisfactory size, peer to himself. And +so his feet had come in the familiar valley suddenly upon a new +path, and been led to the interior of the mountain where Venus, +driven from the surface of the earth by the usurping Cross, had +taken refuge with all her pagan train. There the Queen of Love +herself had contented him, and his thirsty youth had thought this +no doubt a sufficient crown of life; this had met all his vast +desires, appeased all his boundless pride. He had lived in the +rosy atmosphere there he knew not how long, existence one feast, +at which everything in man was satisfied, heart, imagination, +senses--everything but his soul. + +We first have sight of him lying at the feet of Venus, his head +pillowed on her lap. There are dances and revels for their delight, +but he has fallen asleep,--and in his dream he hears, through the +song of stupefying sweetness in which the Sirens hold forth enkindling +promises, a fragment of anthem, the long-forgotten music of +church-bells. He starts awake. The tender queen draws down-his +head again with a caress. "Beloved, where are your thoughts?" But +his neglected soul has in dream made its claim. The sweetness of +all this other is found by sudden revulsion cloying to the point of +despair. "Too much!" he cries wildly, "Too much! Oh, that I might +awaken!" At just that touch, that sound in sleep of bells, his +whole poor humanity has flooded back upon him, and at the goddess's +indulgent "Tell me what troubles you?" his weak infinite homesickness +breaks bounds. "It seemed to me, in my dream, that I heard--what so +long has been foreign to my ear!--the pleasant pealing of bells. +Oh, tell me, how long is it that I hear them no more? I cannot +measure the length of my sojourn here. There are no longer for me +days or months, since I no longer see the sun or the sky's friendly +constellations. The grass-blade I see no more, which, clothing +itself with fresh green, brings in the new summer. The nightingale +I hear no more announcing the return of Spring. Am I never to hear +them, never to see them more?" + +Venus, mildly amazed at folly so prodigious, reproaches him for +this complaining, these regrets. What, is he so soon weary of the +marvels with which her love surrounds him? Discontented so soon +with being a god? Has he so soon forgotten the old unhappiness? "My +minstrel, up! Take your harp! Sing the praise of love, which you +celebrate so gloriously that you won the Goddess of Love herself." +Tannhaeuser, thus bidden, seizes the harp and warmly entones a hymn +of praise to her, which from its climax of ardour, suddenly--as +if his lips were tripped by the word "mortal" occurring in the +song,--turns into a prayer to her to release him. "But mortal, +alas, I have remained, and your love is over-great for me. A god +has the capacity to enjoy perpetually, but I am the creature of +change. Not joy alone can satisfy my heart, after pleasure I yearn +for sorrow. Forth from your kingdom I must fare. Oh, Queen, Goddess, +let me depart!" + +Reproachful questions succeed on her part: Of what neglect has her +love been guilty, of what can he accuse her? In reply, grasping +his harp again, he adds fiery praise to praise of her greatness, +the wonders of her kingdom,--to drop again into his prayer for +release: "But I, amid these rosy perfumes, I yearn for the odour +of the forest, yearn for the pure blue of our skies, the fresh +green of our sward, the sweet song of our birds, the dear sound of +our bells! Forth from your kingdom I must fare. O Queen, Goddess, +let me depart!" + +The beautiful queen's surprise is turning to anger, without ceasing +to be surprise. "You sing the praise of my love, and wish at the +same time to flee from it? My beauty, is it possible, has brought +surfeit?" He tells her, disarmingly as he may, what must fall +incomprehensibly on her pagan ears, that it is that over-great +beauty of hers he must shun, that never was his love greater, never +sincerer, than in this moment when he must flee from her forever. + +She drops chiding then, truly alarmed, and tempts. She paints to +him with glowing art the delights awaiting them; to these she bids +him with the persuasive voice of love. When the goddess of beauty thus +invites a mortal, she feels secure in counting upon his forgetting +all else. But this Tannhaeuser, with the dreamy echo in his earth-born +ears of the church-bells of home, he catches, instead of her beautiful +form to his breast, his harp again. He grants that her beauty is +the source of all beauty, that every lovely marvel has its origin +in her: against the whole world, he promises, he will thereafter +be her champion, but--back to the world of earth go he must, for +here he can but become a slave. Freedom, for freedom he thirsts! +Battle and struggle he must have, though he should meet through +them defeat and death. Forth from her kingdom he must fare! Queen, +Goddess, let him depart! + +"Go, then, madman, go!" she bids him in lovely wrath. "Traitor, +see, I do not hold you back! I leave you free, go your way, go +your way! Let your doom be to have that which you yearn for! Go +back to cold mankind, before whose gross dismal delusion we Gods +of Joy fled deep into the warm bosom of the earth. Go back to them, +infatuated! Seek your soul's welfare and find it never! Not long +before your proud heart will surrender. I shall see you humbly +draw near. Broken, trampled, you will come seeking me, will invoke +the wonders of my power!" Unheedful of the remainder, he seizes +avidly upon his dismissal. "Ah, lovely goddess, farewell! Never +will I return!" What--never return? She threatens with her curse, +if he shall not return, him and the whole human race: in vain let +them go seeking for her miracles, let the world become a wilderness +and have for its hero a slave! But yet--he cannot have meant what +he said, he will come back, let him say that he will come back! +"Nevermore!" cries the captive of this suffocating prison-house +of love, as he pants upon the threshold of freedom, "nevermore let +joy of love delight me!"--"Come back" she desperately entreats, +"when your heart impels you!"--"Forever your beloved flees!"--"Come +back when the whole world rejects you!"--"Through penance I shall +be absolved from sin!"--"Never shall you gain forgiveness! Come +back if the gates of salvation close to you!"--"Salvation!... My +hope of salvation lies in the Blessed Mary!" + +At that name, Venus uttering a cry vanishes, and with her the dim-lit +subterranean kingdom.... + +Tannhaeuser finds himself standing in a sunny well-known valley, +near to a road-side shrine of the Blessed Mary at whose hem he +had caught. The Wartburg is in sight, where he was used in former +days to take part in song-tournaments. In dim distance looms the +Hoerselberg, concerning which a sinister rumour ran: that in the heart +of it the pagan goddess Venus still lived and held her court. All the +landscape smiles, the trees are in blossom, nature is altogether at +her loveliest. Oh, so sweeter to the ears of the resuscitated knight +than the song of sirens, comes the homely tinkle of sheepbells. +A little shepherd pipes and sings in joy over the return of May. + +Tannhaeuser stands statue-still, as if he feared by the slightest +movement to wake himself, to dispel the vision. + +A band of penitents, starting on a pilgrimage to far-off Rome, +defile past the Virgin's shrine, saluting her and asking her grace +upon their pilgrimage. Their pious chant stirs in Tannhaeuser deep, +long-untouched chords. At the same moment that the aroused sense +of pollution would overwhelm him, the reminder shines forth to +him in the pilgrims' words of the possibility of forgiveness and +regeneration through repentance and penitential practices. A very +miracle of God's grace it seems to him, by which he sees the door +of hope open to him anew. The weight of his emotion forces him +to his knees; he makes his own the words of the pilgrims wending +their way out of sight: "Ah, heavily oppresses me the burden of +sin, no longer can I carry it. No more will I therefore of ease +and rest, but choose for my portion pain and effort." The pilgrims' +voices come drifting more and more dyingly, the breeze wafts sounds +of church-bells. With tears Tannhaeuser bows his head and sinks +into prayer. + +Cheerful hunting-horns breaking upon the air do not rouse him, nor +the approach of the hunters. They are the Landgrave and a group +of his favorite minstrel-knights. Catching sight of the kneeling +figure, they stop to observe it. The minstrel Wolfram recognises +their old companion, Heinrich, who had left them, time gone, to +disappear utterly. The circumstances of their parting are suggested +by the first words uttered when Tannhaeuser starts to his feet and +faces them. "Is it truly yourself?" asks the Landgrave; "Have you +come back to the community which you forsook in impatient +arrogance?"--"Tell us what is implied by your return?" says the +minstrel Biterolf; "Reconciliation? Or renewed battle?"--"Do you +come as friend or foe?" asks the minstrel Walther. So much the +more probable thing does it seem that he comes as foe that there +is a challenging note in the address of all--save Wolfram. The +latter, the gentlest soul among them, has taken account of the +old companion's countenance; his sympathy is quick to interpret +it, by a word he changes the mood toward him of all the others. +"As a foe? How can you ask? Is that the bearing of arrogance? Oh, +welcome back among us, you singer bold, who too long have been +absent from our midst!"--"Welcome if you come peaceably-minded!" +say the others; "Welcome if you approach as a friend! Welcome among +us!" + +The Landgrave, after adding his gracious greeting to the greetings +of the others asks where he has been this long time. "Far, far from +here I wandered," Tannhaeuser replies, with a vagueness mysteriously +pregnant, "where I found neither peace nor rest. Inquire not! I +have not come to contend with you. Forgive the past and let me +go my way!" + +Marvellously softened by this novel gentleness in the formerly so +testy and proud companion, all now with a single mind desire him +to stay, nay, refuse to let him go. He turns from them resolutely: +"Detain me not! It would ill profit me to tarry! Never more for me +repose! Onward and ever onward lies my way, to look backward were +undoing!" He is hastening away, despite their entreaties, when +Wolfram pronounces the name which brings him to an instantaneous +standstill. "Remain beside Elizabeth!"--"Elizabeth!" Tannhaeuser +repeats after him, reverently as if the name were consecrated bread +upon his lips; "Oh, power of Heaven, is it you calling that sweet +name to me?" At the spectacle of his emotion, Wolfram turns to +the Landgrave: "Have I your leave, my lord, to be the herald to +him of his good fortune?" The Landgrave consents. "Inform him of +the magic spell he has wrought, and may God lend him virtue to +loose it worthily!" Wolfram imparts to Henry then that when in the +days before his disappearance the minstrels were wont to contend +with him in song, whatever the event of the contest, one prize there +had been won by him alone, his song alone had had power to enthrall +the interest of that most virtuous maid, Elizabeth. And when he had +proudly withdrawn from their midst, her heart had closed to the +singing of the remaining minstrels; her cheek had lost bloom, she +had shunned their song-tourneys. "Return to us, O daring minstrel," +Wolfram concludes, "let your song resound alongside of ours, that +she may no longer be absent from our festivals, that her star once +more may shed brightness upon us!" The fellow-minstrels join their +voices to Wolfram's, to press the recovered companion to remain +among them. "Let discord and quarrel be laid aside! Let our songs +form one harmony! As brothers regard us henceforward!" + +Great gladness has fallen upon the knight, crushed to earth a moment +past by a sense of sin; a swift rebound lifts up the heart that had +asked of this fair and over-fair world just restored to him only +opportunity to expiate and be made clean. Can this be true, this which +seems like the most madly impossible of beautiful dreams? Elizabeth! +the Landgrave's niece, the fair and faultless, the saint!... No +doubt in the old days he had worshipped her, not daring to lift +his eyes above her footprints, had loved as a moth may a star. +That lily had shone in his dreams, cool and pure and unattainable, +by the mysterious attraction of opposites compelling homage and +desire more than might any being less removed in nature from his +hot, pleasure-thirsty, sense-ridden, undisciplined self. An element +in his discontent with the earth had been perhaps his sense of +life-wide separation from her, of unsurpassable barriers between +them, the vanity of aspiration. And now the Landgrave permits her +name to be used to keep him from departing! And with his long-dead +soul come back to intenser life than ever, that lily more than ever +calls forth the worshipping devotion of his reawakened highest +self. In total self-abandonment of joy, he breaks forth: "To her! +To her! Oh, conduct me to her! Ah, I recognise it now, the lovely +world from which I was cut off! The sky it is, looking down upon +me, it is the greensward flaunting rich multitude of flowers. Spring +with its thousand voices of joy has entered into my soul, and my +heart in sweet ungovernable tumult cries out aloud: To her! To +her!" + +"Praise be to the power," say Landgrave and minstrels, "which has +dispelled his arrogance!" What the remembrance is in this circle +of Tannhaeuser's arrogance appears from the frequency of reference +to it. The remainder of the hunting-retinue has now joined the +Landgrave; the scene is brilliant with swarming figures of hunters, +hounds, and horses. With bright horn-calls the train starts homeward, +on its rejoicing way "to her!" + +II + +The Hall of Minstrels in the Wartburg, where the famous song-tournaments +were held. Such a tournament is directly to take place, and Elizabeth +for the first time after many days will preside over it. She enters +the hall while it is still empty of guests, and looks around with +glad affectionate eyes, like one returning home after long exile. +She is sincere as she is innocent, the white princess, "une ame +sans detours," and speaks the truth of her heart with wonderfully +little circumlocution, as to herself now in her salutation of the +hall, so to others later. "Once more I greet you, beloved hall,--oh, +joyously greet you, place ever dear! In you reawaken echoes of his +singing, and draw me from my melancholy dream. When he departed +from you, how desolate did you appear to me! Peace deserted me, +joy deserted you! But now that my breast rides high with gladness +you appear to me proud again and splendid as of yore. The one who +gives new life both to you and to me no longer tarries afar. All +hail to you, beloved hall, all hail!" + +Wolfram, who loves Elizabeth, but in such unworldly, elevated, +self-abjuring wise that he can for the sake of happiness to her set +wholly aside hopes, desires, and jealousies of his own, finds for +Tannhaeuser this opportunity of seeing the Princess alone. He leads +him into her presence and effaces himself, while their interview +lasts, among the arches at the back of the hall. + +Tannhaeuser, flushed and radiant, magnificent in his festival robes +of a noble minstrel-knight, casts himself impetuously at her feet. +His sudden appearance startles her painfully. Her manner speaks a +confusion almost tremulous: "Father in Heaven!... Do not kneel!... +It is not meet that I should see you here!"--"What else so meet? +Oh, do not leave," he cries ardently, "and suffer me to remain +thus at your feet!" Her timidity wears away like dew in sunshine; +we fancy the play of faint gracious smiles upon her next words. +"Stand up, then! Not in this place must you kneel, for this hall +is your rightful kingdom. Oh, rise to your feet! Take my thanks for +having come back to us. Where did you tarry so long?" Tannhaeuser +rises slowly. As when the Landgrave asked him the same question, +a shadow falls across his countenance, his answer is vague and +mysterious. "Far from here, in distant, distant lands. Heavy oblivion +has dropped between to-day and yesterday. All memory of the past has +quickly faded from me, and one thing only I know: that I had not +hoped ever again to bow before you, or ever again to lift my eyes to +you."--"What was it then that brought you back?"--"A miracle it was, +an inconceivable, highest miracle!"--"Oh, from the depths of my heart +I give thanks to God for that miracle!" she exclaims, and confused at +her own fervour catches herself back, only to proceed further, with +the candour of an angel: "Your pardon, if I hardly know what I am +about! I move as if in a dream, and am feather-brained as a child, +given over, hand-bound, in thrall to a miraculous power! Hardly do +I recognise myself; oh, do you help me to solve the enigma of my +heart!" Not only with the candour of an angel, but the simplicity +of very high rank, accepting the prerogative of her station to +step forward a little way to meet the favoured lover, she lays +before him the puzzle over the small difficulty of which her purity +and greatness make one unable to smile. "To the wise songs of the +minstrels I was wont to listen often and with delight. Their singing +and their descanting appeared to me a charming pastime. But what +strange new life did your song awake in my breast! Now it pierced +me through like pain, now roused me to mad joy. Emotions I had +never felt! Desires I had never known! Things that until then had +seemed to me lovely lost their charm by comparison with delights I +had not even a name for! Then, when you went from among us, peace +and happiness were gone too. The minstrels' songs seemed to me +an uninspired affair, dim of meaning, languid of execution. My +dreams were full of dull pain, my waking hours a dejected dream. +All capacity for joy forsook my heart. Heinrich, Heinrich, what +had you done to me?" The "singer bold," the "daring minstrel," +is of a candour matching her own. "Oh, give praise to the god of +Love!" he cries; "He it was who touched my strings! He spoke to +you through my songs, and it is he who has brought me back to you!" +They unite in joyful praise of the hour which has revealed this +miracle-working of Love's. + +Wolfram watching them from his distance sighs gently: "Thus fades +from all my life the light of hope!" Tannhaeuser, encountering him +as he hastens away, lets a wave of his joy overflow in an impetuous +embrace of the friend. + +Elizabeth stands on the terrace overlooking the castle-court and +the valley to watch the lover out of sight, moved and simply happy +as a woman who is not a saint. Her whiteness loves that colour; +her paleness warms itself at that glow; her gentleness glories +in that force. She makes no question but that he is worthy of her +love. Her high spirituality has intuition no doubt of the vast +potentialities of good in that superabundant life, which of itself +seems a virtue as well as a charm. + +When the Landgrave enters she cannot bear his searching eyes upon +her transparent face, and hides it against his breast. "Do I find +you in this hall which for so long time you have avoided? You are +lured at last by the song-festival we are preparing?" he questions +her. She cannot answer, she falters: "My uncle!... Oh, my kind +father!"--"Are you moved at last," he asks kindly, "to open your +heart to me?" She lifts her face and bravely raises her eyes. "Look +into my eyes, for speak I cannot!" He reads, and does not press +her. "Let then for a brief space longer your sweet secret remain +unspoken. Let the spell remain unbroken until yourself you have +power to loose it. Be it as you please! Song, which has awakened +and set working such wonders, shall to-day unfold the same and +crown them with consummation. Let the Lovely Art now take the work +in hand. The nobles of my lands already are assembling, bidden by +me to a singular feast. In greater numbers they flock than ever +before, having heard that you are to be Princess of the gathering." + +The Hall of Minstrels gradually fills with these same nobles and +their ladies. They salute the Landgrave and the Princess, and take +their places to the well-known, long-loved march. The minstrels have +seats apart from the rest, facing their audience. The Landgrave +addresses them nobly, with gracious compliment for the skill shown +theretofore by them in singing as in fighting, for their victorious +championship of virtue and the true faith, high tradition and all +things lovely. Let them offer the guests to-day a banquet of song, +upon the occasion of the return among them of the "daring singer" +whose absence they so long had deplored, whom a wonderful mystery +has brought back into their neighbourhood. He sets to the +song-contestants as their task to define the nature of love. He +who shall most worthily besing it shall receive the prize from +Elizabeth's hand. Let his demand be bold as he will, the Landgrave's +care it shall be to see his wish granted. + +Lots are drawn. Fortune appoints Wolfram to open the song-feast. +He preludes pensively, and sets forth in an improvisation of slow +and stately gait his delicate dreamer's sentiments: Glancing around +this noble assemblage, his heart kindles at sight of so many heroes, +valiant, German, and wise,--a proud oak-forest, verily, splendid, +fresh and green. And among them fair and virtuous ladies, fragrant +garland of beauteous flowers. The eye swoons, drunken with gazing, +the poet's song grows mute before such splendour of loveliness. He +fixes his eyes, then, upon one only of the stars in that dazzling +firmament. His spirit is forced to worship and bow in prayer. And, +behold, the vision he has of a miraculous fount, from which his spirit +may draw sacred joys, his heart receive ineffable refreshment. And +never would he wish to trouble that fountain, never with criminal +presumption stir those waters,--but offer himself up to it in +self-sacrificing adoration, and shed for its sake the last of his +blood. From these words the company may apprehend what he conceives +to be the nature of love at its purest. + +There is warm applause from the noble knights and ladies, whether +because they understand the star to be Elizabeth, and the fountain +the pure love she inspires, or because it was the ideal of that +period of song-contests and Courts of Love and chivalry to love with +a reverence that precluded any near approach to the lady elected +for adoration. A poet might marry and have seven children, while +regarding with exalted passion and celebrating in enraptured +song,--making into his star, his sacred fountain, his Muse, some +dazzling remote princess, held to be too fair and good by far for +human nature's daily food. The audience, when Wolfram resumes his +seat, cry: "So it is! So it is!" and loudly praise his song. + +Tannhaeuser has lent ear somewhat listlessly. This hall has been +called his rightful kingdom; he sits among the other minstrels +consciously like a young monarch. At the closing figure of Wolfram's +rhapsodical rhetoric, the image of the fount, a shadowy smile of +superiority has dawned upon his face. As the applause dies, he +grasps his harp and rises to take exception to Wolfram's definition. +Such a song-feast was in fact a song-debate. His words come warm +and ready: "I too, Wolfram, may call myself so fortunate as to +behold what you have beheld. Who is there unacquainted with that +fountain? Hear me loudly exalt its virtue! But yet can I not approach +those waters without sense of warm longing. That burning thirst I +must cool. Comforted I set lips to the spring. In full draughts +I drink joy, unmixed with doubt or fear, for inexhaustible is the +fountain, even as inextinguishable is my desire. That my longing +therefore may be prolonged eternally, eternally I drink refreshment +at the well. Know Wolfram, thus do I conceive of love's truest +essence!" + +There is deep silence when he has ended. One person only in the +large assemblage has given a sign of approval, made a little gesture +of assent, and that is Elizabeth, at bottom a very simple normal +woman, who does not recognise herself as a star or a sacred well +unapproachable to the one she loves. But as all refrain, she timidly +checks herself, and waits to hear the rest. + +Walther has taken his harp, has risen; in growing excitement, touched +with indignation, he sweeps the strings: "The fountain spoken of by +Wolfram, by the light of the soul I too have looked into its depths! +But you, who thirst to drink at it, you, Heinrich, know it verily +not! Permit me to tell you, accept the lesson: That fountain is true +virtue. Devoutly you shall worship it and sacrifice to its limpid +purity. Should you lay lip to it, to cool your unhallowed passion, +nay, should you but sip at the outermost brim, forever gone were +its miraculous power! If you shall gain life from that fountain, +through the heart, not the palate, must you seek refreshment!" +Again there is lively applause. Tannhaeuser springs to his feet, +the old contemptuousness toward these companions,--compends of +density, conventionality, and hypocrisy!--curving his lip. "Oh, +Walther, singing as you have done, how direly have you misrepresented +love! Through such languors and timidities as you describe, the +world would unmistakably go dry! To the glory of God in his exalted +distance, gaze at the heavens, gaze at its stars. Pay tribute of +worship to such marvels, because they pass your comprehension. But +that which lends itself to human touches, which lies near to your +heart and senses, that which, formed of the same clay as yourselves, +in a softer shape nestles against your side, the tribute called +for by that is hearty pleasure of love. Enjoyment, I say, is the +essence of love!" + +At this, which falls upon all ears present with the effect of rank +blasphemy, Biterolf rises in wrath. "Out, out, to fight against +us all. Who could be silent hearing you? If your arrogance will +vouchsafe to listen, hear, slanderer, me too! When high love inspires +me, it steels my weapons with courage; to save it from indignity +proudly would I pour forth my last blood. For the honour of women +and of lofty virtue I unsheathe my knightly sword,--but that which +your youth is pleased to call pleasure is cheap enough and worth +no single blow!" The audience cheer him enthusiastically: "Hail, +Biterolf, our good blade!" Tannhaeuser can no longer contain himself. +It is now again quite as it used to be, when never could he live +at peace with these purblind tortoises, dull of wit to the point +of amazement, and yet pretending to pronounce upon things, pass +judgment upon others. What can there be but warfare forever between +him and them? But that Biterolf, this war-worn, middle-aged, rugged +minstrel should take it upon himself to instruct Heinrich Tannhaeuser, +pupil of Venus, in matters of love! His retort comes quick, from the +shoulder, so to speak, though the form is not dropped of fitting his +words to chords of the peaceful harp: "Ha, fond braggart, Biterolf! Is +it you, singing about love, grim wolf? But you can hardly have meant +that which I hold worthy to be enjoyed. What, you poverty-stricken +wight--what pleasure of love may have fallen to your share? Not rich +in love your life has been! And such joys as may have sprouted +along your path, indeed, were hardly worthy of a blow!"--"Let him +not be allowed to finish! Forbid his insolence!" cry the incensed +nobles, who had suffered Biterolf's personal attack, but find +insufferable this of the over-splendid, over-bearing, over-confident +youth. Biterolf's sword has leaped from its scabbard. The Landgrave +orders it back. "Preserve peace, you singers!" + +A hush falls as Wolfram takes the floor again. He had sacrificed +every selfish hope to serve both Elizabeth and Tannhaeuser, had +employed himself to further their union. What now is happening is +plainly terrible to him. His opinion of the friend has undergone +in the last moments a grievous subversion. He has been wounded to +the soul by the bold and profane tone of Tannhaeuser's argument. +His sensibility detects an atmosphere of sin about this novel love's +advocate, and as a good and pious knight he is forced to array +himself against the friend, to uphold Ideal Love in antagonism to +the Carnal Love he has just heard exalted. "Oh, Heaven, hear my +prayer and consecrate my song!" he sings, a pale flame informing his +song, as, imaginably, his cheek and eye; "Let me see evil banished +from this pure and noble circle! To you, Highest Love, let my song +resound, inspired, to you that in angelic beauty have penetrated +deep into my soul. As a messenger from Heaven do you appear to us; +I follow from afar. You guide us toward the regions where immortally +shines your star!" + +Tannhaeuser, exasperated, reckless, frenzied with that temperamental +need of his to dominate, that impatience of being lessoned, losing +sight of all but one thing, that it shall be proved to them they +can teach nothing about love to him, the lover of the very Goddess +of Love, seizes his harp, his sword in this duel, and breaks forth +in his impassioned Praise of Venus,--the song we heard in the heart +of her Hill, when he celebrated her at her own bidding, in conclusion +begging so lamely for his dismissal. "To you, Goddess of Love, +shall my song resound! Loud shall your praises now be sung by me! +Your sweet beauty is the source of all that is beautiful, and every +lovely miracle has its origin in you! He who aglow has enfolded +you in his arms, he knows, and he alone, what love is! Oh, you +poor-spirited, who have never tasted love, go,--to the Hill of Venus +repair!" + +The last words have the effect of a thunder-clap, in the consternation +they produce. Tannhaeuser in the drunkenness of his pride had forgotten +what this revelation would mean in the ears he trumpeted it to; in +his long sojourn in the pagan underworld, where his moral judgment +had become dulled and perverted, had forgotten, apparently, how +the Christian world regarded such commerce with it as his words +betrayed. That mysterious Hoerselberg looming in the distance was +in popular thinking the very ante-chamber of Hell; its pleasures, +paid in the world to come with eternal damnation, were rewarded in +this world with excommunication and death. One who had frequented +it was sin-polluted, sin-drenched, he poisoned the air with sin. +All shrink back at his announcement as from a leper. The women +flee precipitately from the contamination of his neighbourhood. +It is like a flight of gorgeous birds. The men's instant and only +thought is to immolate him, cleanse the earth of the inexpressible +blot upon it that he is. "He has luxuriated in the pleasures of +Hell! He has dwelled in the Hill of Venus! Abominable! Accursed! +Bathe your swords in his blood! Hurl him back into the fiery lake!" + +Tannhaeuser stands with drawn sword facing their multitude. They +are advancing toward him, his doom seems sealed,--when Elizabeth's +body is found interposed shield-wise between him and their swords. +Their hands are necessarily stayed. "What do we see?" their wondering +question runs, "What? Elizabeth? The chaste virgin protecting the +sinner?"--"Back!" the meek maiden commands with vigour enough at +this pass, "or I shall not regard death! What are wounds from your +swords beside the death-stroke I have received from him?" Tannhaeuser +starts like one awakening. He had not thought of this aspect of +his action; the pride relaxes suddenly that had stiffened him. +"Elizabeth!" her uncle argues with her, and the others add their +voices to his, "What must I hear? How has your heart allowed itself +to be stultified, that you should attempt to save from punishment the +man who, added to all else, has so dreadfully betrayed you?"--"What +does it matter about me?" she cries; "But he--his soul's salvation! +Would you rob him of his soul's eternal salvation?" He has cast +away all chance of that, they affirm; never can he gain salvation. +The curse of Heaven is upon him, let him die in his sins! At their +threatening approach, she spreads her arms resolutely before him. +She towers tall and white, she speaks with strange authority. "Back +from him! Not you are his judges! Cruel ones, cast from you the +barbarous sword, and give heed to the word of the stainless virgin! +Learn through me what is the will of God. The unhappy man whom +a potent dreadful enchantment holds bound, what, shall he never +come to Heaven through repentance and expiation in this world? You +who are so strong in the pure faith, do you apprehend so ill the +mind of the Most High? Would you take away the hope of the sinner? +State then what wrong he has done to you. Behold me, the maiden, +whose blossom he shattered with a swift blow, me, who loved him to +the depths of being, and whose heart he pierced with a jubilant +laugh... I plead for him, I plead for his life! Let his feet be +turned into the path of penitence. Let the courage be restored to +him of the faith that for him too the Saviour died!" In a spasm +of realisation and self-horror the unhappy Tannhaeuser hides his +face and sinks to the earth. The angry lords have calmed under +the Princess's exhortation. They see in her an angel descended +from Heaven to announce the holy will of God. Who could persist +in violence after hearing the supplications of an angel? + +Tannhaeuser has come at last completely to himself, to a clear vision, +by light of that heavenly goodness, of what he has been, what he +has done. Sapped of its pride, his spirit grovels helplessly in +the lowest depths of abasement. "To lead the sinner to salvation, +the God-sent came to me, but I, alas, to touch her impiously, I +lifted upon her eyes of vice. Oh, Thou, far above the vale of earth, +who didst send to me this angel of salvation, have mercy upon me +who, ah! so deeply steeped in sin, did such ignoble wrong to the +mediatrix of Heaven!" + +The Landgrave decides upon the course to be taken. An abominable +crime has been committed; in hypocritical disguise the accursed +son of sin has slipped into their midst. Among them he may not +remain, the displeasure of Heaven already lowers upon this roof +which too long has covered him. One road is open to the sinner, +which, while rejecting him, the Landgrave points out--let him take +advantage of it to his welfare! Numerous bands of penitents are +starting from this region on pilgrimage to Rome for the great Pardon. +The older have left already; the younger are still gathering in +the valley. Let Tannhaeuser join them, go with them to the Holy +City, fall upon his knees and do penance for his sin. Let him cast +himself before him who speaks the decrees of God upon earth, entreat +his blessing, and never return if he fail to obtain it. For if +their vengeance stay its hand at the prayer of an angel, their +swords will not fail to reach him if he continue in his sin. The +chant comes wafted from the distance of those younger pilgrims +gathering for departure: "At the great feast of peace and pardon, +humbly confess your sins. Blessed is the firm in faith, he may +be absolved through contrition and penance." + +A ray of hope illumines Tannhaeuser's face. He starts up from his +knees, and with a wild cry, "To Rome!" rushes forth from the Hall. + +III + +The story is taken up again when the valley all green and blossoming +at our first sight of it has assumed melancholy autumn colours. +Wolfram walking at sunset comes upon Elizabeth prostrate in prayer +at the foot of the road-side shrine. He watches her with eyes of +profoundest compassion. "Full well did I know that I should find +her here, as so often I find her, when in lonely wandering I descend +from the wooded heights to the valley. With death in her heart from +the blow dealt to her by him, outstretched in burning anguish, +night and day she prays--Oh, eternal strength of a holy love!--for +his redemption. She awaits the return of the pilgrims from Rome. +Already the leaves are falling, their home-coming is at hand. Is +he among the pardoned? That is her question, that her continual +prayer. Oh, if her wound is such as cannot be healed, yet let +alleviation be vouchsafed to it!" + +The chant dawns upon the distance of the returning pilgrims. Elizabeth +rises to her feet, wan and worn and frail. "It is their song,--they +are coming home!" To steady her poor, agitated, failing heart, +she calls upon the saints and prays them to instruct her in her +part, that she may fulfil it worthily. + +The band of pilgrims comes in sight; they pass, as earlier, in +front of the image of Mary, lifting their voices in an anthem of +solemn joy. Elizabeth looks into the face of every one of them as +they pass. They have defiled before her to the last. He is not +among them. + +They wind their way out of sight, their last Halleluyah dies. +Elizabeth falls at the Virgin's feet, and, with the fervour of one +who is praying for very life, prays for death. "All-powerful Virgin, +hear my prayer! To thee, favoured among women, I appeal! I bow in the +dust before thee, oh, take me from this earth! Make me pure and like +to an angel, fit to enter thy blessed kingdom. If ever, possessed +by a fond insanity, my heart was turned from thee; if ever a sinful +desire, a worldly longing, took root in me,--with a thousand pains +I have striven to kill it in my heart. But if I cannot wholly atone +for that fault, do thou mercifully condescend to me, that I may +with humble salutation approach thee, made worthy to become thy +servant,--only to implore thine intercession rich in grace for +his sin, only to implore thine intercession for his sin!" She is +very woman to her last breath, the saint. She has failed on earth +to gain the coveted sign of pardon for him,--his not returning +with the others can only mean that he is not among the pardoned; +it means perhaps even that he did not accomplish the pilgrimage at +all.... She renounces him before Heaven, as if by that sacrifice +to propitiate the powers above, and desires to be given entrance +through death to that higher court where she still may intercede +for him,--perhaps, when she is an angel, with better effect. She +rises from prayer with the appearance of one upon whom already +the hand of death is laid. Wolfram, who notes her feeble step and +bloodless cheek, whose faithful heart understands all, solicitous +for her, asks if be may not escort her home. Without speaking, by +gentle gesture and shake of the head she declines, and he watches +her solitary figure slowly ascending the path toward the castle, +until it has disappeared from sight. + +A mortal sadness is upon him, but a sadness mild as his nature. This +poet can at the darkest pass still turn his sorrows into song. With +song he now tries to administer to his oppressed heart consolation. +He feels softly along the strings of his harp. His thoughts are +full of Elizabeth, his soul apprehends what journey her soul is +preparing for. The terror of it, as well as the hope illumining the +dark way, he sees symbolised in the surrounding darkening scene, +over which now breaks the light of the evening star. "Like the +premonition of death twilight envelops the land, enfolds the valley +in a dusky garment. The soul, yearning for yonder heights, shrinks +from the journey through night and terrors. Then do you appear, O +loveliest among the stars! You shed your light afar. Your beloved +beams cleave the nocturnal twilight, and benignly you show us the +way out of the valley.... Oh, you, my sweetly-beaming evening star, +whom I have ever greeted so gladly,--do you greet, when she rises +past you, on her way from the vale of earth to become a blessed +angel beyond the stars, do you greet her from the heart that has +never failed in its truth to her!" A long time he continues sitting +in the twilight valley, gazing at the setting star, making his harp +express the emotions he has not the heart any more to formulate +with his lips. It grows night, the evening star goes out. + +A shape in ragged pilgrim's-garb, supporting itself upon a +pilgrim's-staff, as if walking were scarcely possible without, from +terrible weariness, approaches the minstrel. "I heard harp-chords," +the tottering wayfarer speaks to himself; "How mournful they sounded! +Hardly might such music come from _her!_"--"Who are you, pilgrim, +wandering thus alone?" Wolfram addresses the shadowy figure. "Who +I am?" comes the reply, "And yet I know you well enough. You are +Wolfram, that highly-accomplished minstrel!"--"Heinrich!" cries +Wolfram, not to be mistaken in that mocking voice,--with the scorn +of which is mingled so much wild bitterness that the hearer is +made certain this pilgrim is returned under different conditions +from all the rest. "Heinrich, you?... What brings you in this +neighbourhood? Speak! Are you so bold as, unabsolved, to have let +your feet take the road to this region?"--"Be without fear, my good +minstrel, I am not come looking for you nor any of your tribe. +But I am looking for one who shall show me the road... the road +which of old I found so easily!"--"What road do you mean?"--"The +road to the Hill of Venus!" Wolfram recoils. "Do you know that +road?" persists Heinrich. "Madman! Horror seizes me to hear you!" +the pious knight shudders; "Where have you been? Tell me, did you +not go to Rome?"--"Speak not to me of Rome!"--"Were you not present +at the holy festival?"--"Speak not of it to me!"--"Then you have +not been?... Tell me, I conjure you!" The answer comes, after a +dark pause, with an effect of boundless bitterness: "Aye, I too +was in Rome!"--"Then speak! Tell me of it, unhappy man! I feel a +vast compassion for you surging within my breast!" Tannhaeuser in +the nigh darkness regards him for a moment with astonishment; he +speaks more gently, moved in spite of himself by such gentleness. +"What is that you say, Wolfram? Are you not my enemy?"--"Never was +I such--while I believed you pure of purpose! But speak, you went +on the pilgrimage to Rome?"--"Well, then,--listen! You, Wolfram, +shall hear all." Exhausted he drops on a projection of rock, but +when Wolfram would seat himself beside him he waives him violently +off. "Do not come near me! The place where I rest is accursed!... +Hear, then, Wolfram, hear!" He had started, he relates, on his +pilgrimage to Rome with such passion of repentance in his heart +as never penitent felt before. An angel had shattered in him the +pride of sin. For that angel's sake he would do penance with the +last humility, seek the salvation he had forfeited,--that the tears +might be sweetened which angelic eyes had shed for him, sinner. The +devotions, austerities, self-castigations of the other pilgrims +had seemed to him all too light. When they trod the greensward, he +chose flints and thorns; when they refreshed themselves at roadside +springs, he absorbed instead the thirst-breeding heat of the sun; when +they but prayed, he shed his blood to the praise of the Most High; +when they turned into the shelter of Alpine sanctuaries, he made ice +and snow his bed; with closed eyes--climax of self-denial!--with +closed eyes, that he might not behold the wonder of them, he passed +unseeing through the lovely plains of Italy! All this because he +wished to atone to the point of self-annihilation, that the tears +might be sweetened of his angel. He had reached Rome, he had bowed +praying upon the threshold of the holy place. Day had dawned, bells +were pealing, heavenly anthems resounding. Then he through whom God +manifests Himself to man had passed through the kneeling crowd. He +had given absolution, had promised grace, to thousands; thousands +he had sent away rejoicing. Tannhaeuser had approached him, had +knelt in the dust, had confessed the evil joys he had known, the +terrible craving which no self-mortification had availed yet to +quiet; he had cried to him, in agony, for deliverance from these +burning fetters. And the one thus appealed to had pronounced: "If +you have shared in such evil pleasure, inflamed yourself at the +fire of Hell, if you have sojourned in the Hill of Venus, to all +eternity you are damned! Even as the staff in my hand can never +more clothe itself with fresh green, even so can never out of the +conflagration of Hell redemption blossom for you!" The pilgrim thus +addressed had sunk to the earth, annihilated. Consciousness had +forsaken him. When he awoke, it was night in the deserted square. +Sounds came from the distance of happy hymns of thanksgiving. A +passion of disgust had seized him for the pious songs; an icy horror +of their lying promises of redemption. With wild steps he had +fled,--drawn back to the place where such great joys, such ineffable +delight, he had found of old upon _her_ warm breast. "To you, Venus, +Lady,"--he cries out in a frenzy of loathing for what lies behind, +and of longing to escape, "to you I am come back!--come back to +your lovely night of enchantment! Descend will I to your court, +where your beauty shall shine upon me forevermore!" Wolfram tries +vainly to stop him. He will not be stopped,--all the more ardently +he calls: "Oh, let me not seek in vain! How easily once did I find +my way to you! You have heard that men curse me; now, sweetest +goddess, guide me to yourself!... Ha!" he cries, in a moment, to +Wolfram wrestling all unheeded to turn him from his deadly purpose, +"Ha, do you not feel soft gusts of air?... Do you not smell exquisite +odours?... Do you not hear jubilant music?" Rosy vapours are rolling +near; dancing forms define themselves in the soft increasing glow. +Tannhaeuser madly calls them to him, while struggling to release +himself from Wolfram's obstinate hold. "It is the dancing rout +of the nymphs! Come hither! Come hither, to pleasure and delight! +Oh, enchantment pervades all my senses, at beholding once more +that rosy light of dawn! It is the magic realm of love, we are +entering into the Hill of Venus!"--"Woe!" shudders Wolfram; "It is +evil sorcery unfolding its insidious snares! It is Hell approaching +at mad career!" + +The radiant form of Venus appears in the midst of the rosy atmosphere, +Venus holding out to the recreant knight her perfect arms. "Welcome, +faithless man! Has the world condemned and rejected you? And do you, +finding no mercy anywhere, come seeking love now in my arms?" Wolfram +speaks exorcisms rapid and vigorous as he can, while Tannhaeuser +stretches his hands toward the soft vision: "Oh, Venus, Lady, rich +in forbearance! To you, to you I come!" With tenderest smiles she +holds forth forgiveness. "Since you are returned to my threshold, +your revolt shall be condoned. The well of joy shall gush for you +forever, never shall you go from me again!" With the desperate +cry: "All hope of Heaven is lost to me, I choose therefore the +pleasures of Hell!" Tannhaeuser tears himself free from Wolfram. +Wolfram seizes him again, calling upon the help of the Almighty, +not to be thrown off. The battle over Tannhaeuser is hot between +Wolfram and Venus, this one calling him to her, that one physically +holding him back, while the insensate man orders him off, tries to +loose himself and rush to her. "Heinrich, one word--" Wolfram makes +the last appeal; "One word and you are free! Oh, sinner though you +be, you shall yet be saved. An angel prayed for you on earth; ere +long, shedding benedictions, she will hover above you... Elizabeth!" + +Tannhaeuser had violently wrested himself from Wolfram, but the +name roots him to the spot. "Elizabeth!" It is as if to reach Venus +now he must first thrust her aside. The spell of that name changes +in an instant the current of his being; fills his eyes with a memory +that blots out the riot of rose-faces and golden hair toward which +all his desire had pitched him. + +Moving torches spot the darkness of the road winding down from the +Wartburg; voices are heard approaching, chanting a dirge. "Peace +to the soul" the words come floating, "just escaped from the clay +of the saintly sufferer!" Wolfram understands but to well. "Your +angel pleads for you now before the throne of God. Her prayer is +heard. Heinrich, you are saved!" With a cry of "Woe! Lost to me!" +the apparition vanishes of Venus and her train; the hill-side +mysteriously engulfs them. + +The torches flicker nearer, the singing becomes louder. "Do you hear +it?" Wolfram asks of Tannhaeuser, who stands transfixed, corpse-like +still and pale and staring. "I hear it!" he murmurs in a dying +voice. + +The funeral train, pilgrims, nobles, minstrels, Landgrave, descend +into the valley chanting their requiem. At a motion of Wolfram's +they set down the uncovered bier at the foot of the Virgin's shrine. +In the torch-light they recognise the unhappy Tannhaeuser. Seized +with pity at sight of his ravaged countenance, "Holy," they sing, +"the pure one who now united to the host of Heaven stands before +the Eternal. Blessed the sinner over whom she wept, for whom she +now implores the salvation of Heaven!" + +She lies outstretched, still and serene, all white beneath her +white pall. She has saved him, after all,--by dying. Her dead body +has barred his way back to Venus. The infinitely-tired and worn +pilgrim, destroyed by the violence of his passions good and bad, +with faltering steps,--helped, in the faintness of death upon him, +by Wolfram,--approaches the white bier. He sinks down beside it, +giving up his proud soul in the so humble prayer: "Sainted Elizabeth, +pray for me!" + +And behold, a second band of pilgrims arriving from the Holy City +announce a miracle: The dry staff in the Pope's hand, which he had +declared should sooner return to bloom than so black a sinner be +forgiven, had in the night burst into leaf and blossom; and order +had gone forth to proclaim the sign through all lands, that the +forgiven sinner should learn of it. The company lift their voices +in awe and exaltation: "Salvation and grace have been granted to +the sinner! He has entered into the peace of the blessed!" + + +The warfare between soul and sense is presented by Wagner with +singular fairness. The pilgrims' song is very beautiful, and beautiful +is all the music of good in the opera of Tannhaeuser. The Venus-music +is certainly equally beautiful; perhaps, to the superficial ear, is +a little more beautiful still: the goddess's own Call, penetrating, +wonderful; the well-nigh irresistible song of the Sirens. The Bacchic +dance, which stands we suppose for the animal element in love, +the Satyr part in man, is hardly beautiful; yet the love-music +as a whole, we can concede without difficulty, carries it over +the sacred music in beauty of a sort, even as the goddess would +have carried off the palm of beauty over the saint. The power of +the music of good, as Wagner lets us see, lies just in the fact +that it is good; the final victory of the saint in the fact that +she is a saint, and that from a mysterious eternal bias of human +nature man finally must prefer good. He has a soul, he cannot help +himself; that, as we have seen, is the secret reason why Venus cannot +forever completely content him, why the pale hand of the saint, +beckoning him at the end of a penitential pilgrimage diversified +with every sort of suffering, draws him still on and upward. + + +THE FLYING DUTCHMAN + + +THE FLYING DUTCHMAN + +I + +A Dutch sea-captain, so long before the date of the play that his +story at the time of it is an old legend, finding himself baffled +during a storm in his effort to double certain cape, swore a great +oath that he would persist to the end of time. The Devil heard +him and took him at his word. He was doomed eternally to sail the +seas. But an angel of the Lord interposed, and obtained for him +a condition of release: Every seven years he might land and woo +a woman; if he could find one to love him faithfully until death, +the curse upon him would be defeated, he would be saved. + +The Ouverture paints a great storm at sea, and contrasts the two +ships that are drawing toward the same bay of refuge in the coast, +the phantom ship with its crew of ghosts and their sinister sea-cry, +the common substantial other craft with its comfortable flesh-and-blood +sailors. + +As the curtain rises upon the turbulent sea and black weather, +the Norwegian vessel has got safely within the haven. While the +sailors furl sails, cast cables, the captain, Daland, comes ashore +and climbs upon a rock to study the landscape. He recognises the +spot, seven miles from the harbour of home where his daughter Senta +awaits his return, whom he had thought by this hour to be clasping +in his arms. "But he who counts upon the wind," he philosophises, +"is counting upon the mercy of Satan!" There is nothing to do but +wait until the storm subsides. He returns on board, sends the tired +crew below to rest after their long struggle with the storm, leaves +the watch to the mate, and himself retires to the cabin. The mate, +alone on deck, after going the round, seats himself at the helm. +The violence of the storm has somewhat diminished, the sky has +lightened. To keep awake, he sings,--a love-song, ingenuous as +sailors are; which does not however fulfil its purpose, for the +singer, more and more oppressed with drowsiness, drops off before +the last bar. + +The storm once more gathers force, the sky darkens. A ship appears +in the distance, with blood-red sails and black masts. It rapidly +nears shore and noiselessly turns into the bay beside Daland's. The +anchor drops with a crash. The Norwegian mate starts, but, half-blind +with sleep, discerning nothing to take alarm at, drops off again. +Without a sound the crew of the strange ship furl their sails and +coil their ropes. The captain, singularly pale, black-bearded, in +a black Spanish costume of long-past fashion, lands alone. It is +he whom ballads call the Flying Dutchman. Seven years have passed +since he last touched land. His opportunity has returned, to reach +out for salvation. He comes ashore wearily, perfunctorily, without +hope, or doubt but that the ocean will soon be receiving him back +for continued desperate wanderings. "Your cruelty, proud ocean," +he apostrophises it, "is variable, but my torment eternal! The +salvation which I seek on land, never shall I find it. To you, +floods of the boundless main, I shall be found faithful until your +last wave break and your last moisture dry! + +"How often--" he cries, as in fixed despair he gazes back over the +past, "How often, filled with longing to die have I cast myself +into the deepest abysses of the sea, but death, alas! I could not +find! Against the reefs where ships find dreadful burial I have +driven my ship, but it found no grave! Inciting him to rage, I have +defied the pirate--I hoped to meet with death in fierce battle. +'Here,' I have cried, 'show your prowess! Full of treasure are +ship and boat! But the wild son of the sea trembling hoisted the +sign of the cross and fled. Nowhere a grave! Never to die! Such is +the dreadful sentence of damnation. Oh, tell me, gentle angel of +God's, who won for me the possibility of salvation, was I, wretch, +the toy of your mockery when you showed me the means of redemption? +Vain hope! Fearful, idle illusion! There is no such thing more +upon earth as eternal fidelity, One hope alone is left me, one +hope alone which nothing can destroy. However long the seed of +earth endure, it must come to final dissolution. Day of Judgment, +end of the world! When shall you dawn upon my night? When shall it +sound, the trump of doom, at which the earth will crumble away? +When all the dead arise, then shall I pass into nothingness. O ye +worlds, a term to your course! Eternal void, receive me!" From the +hold of the phantom-ship the unseen crew echo his prayer: "Eternal +void, receive us!" + +He is leaning against a rock, absorbed in sombre meditation, when +Daland, emerging from the cabin to take a look at the weather, +becomes aware of the looming neighbour. He rouses the sleep-drunken +mate. The latter, shocked wide-awake by the conviction of negligence, +catches up a speaking-trumpet and calls to the strange ship lying at +anchor close by, "Who is there?" There comes no sound in reply, save +from the echo. "Answer!" shouts the mate; "Your name and colours!" +Silence, as before. "It appears they are quite as lazy as we!" Daland +remarks, finding nothing particularly noteworthy in the unresponse, +since his own crew are asleep too after their long toil. Catching +sight of the dark figure on shore which he rightly takes to be +the captain, he prevents the mate's further investigation, and +turns his questions to this one: "Halloo, seaman! Give your name! +Your country?" The answer comes after a long pause, almost as if +the speaker had lost the habit of human intercourse and uttered +himself with difficulty. "I have come from afar. Do you, in such +stress of weather, deny me anchorage?"--"God forbid! The seaman +knows the friendly courtesies of hospitality!" cries Daland. Joining +the stranger ashore, "Who are you?" he asks. "Hollander."--"God +be with you! So you too were driven by the hurricane on to the +bare rocky coast? I had no better fate. My home is but a few miles +from here; I had nearly reached it when I was forced to turn and +sail away. Tell me, whence are you come? Has your ship sustained +damage?"--"My ship is strong, nor likely to meet with damage," +the Hollande, answers, as drearily as mysteriously; "Driven by +storms and adverse winds I have been wandering over the face of the +waters--how long? I hardly could tell. I have long ceased to count +the years. I hardly could name all the lands I have approached. One +land alone, the one which of all I long for, I can never find,--the +land of home! Grant me for a short period the hospitality of your +house, and you shall not rue the act of friendliness. My ship is +richly laden with treasures from every region and latitude. If you +will traffic with me, you may be sure of your advantage."--"How +wonderful!" says Daland, impressed; "Am I to take you at your word? +An evil star, it would seem, has so far pursued you. I am ready to +do what I can to serve you. But--may I ask what is the cargo of +your ship?" The Hollander makes a sign to the watch. His sailors +bring ashore a chest. "The rarest treasures you shall see, precious +pearls and noblest gems," the stranger speaks to the wide-eyed +Daland. "See for yourself, and be convinced of the value of the +price I offer for the hospitality of your roof." The lid of the +chest is lifted. Daland stares amazed at the contents. "What? Is +it possible? These treasures?--But who is so rich as to have an +equivalent to tender?"--"Equivalent? I have told you--I offer this for +a single night's lodging. What you see, however, is an insignificant +portion of that which the hold of my ship contains. Of what avail to +me is the treasure? I have neither wife nor child, and my home I +can never find. All my riches I will give you, if you will afford +me a home with you and yours." Daland cannot believe that he hears +aright. "Have you a daughter?" inquires the Hollander. "I have, +indeed, a most dear child."--"Let her be my wife!" Again Daland +cannot believe his ears, cannot be sure whether he is asleep or +awake. It is suggested later that he cares unduly for wealth; but, +without supposing him avaricious, we can realise how what is offered +at this moment should seem such to his simple sailor mind that a +man must be outright mad not to grasp at it for the inconceivable +happiness and splendour of himself and house. No flesh-and-blood +girl, no daughter of the common fellow he is, can to his mind be a +reasonable equivalent, really, for the mass of riches proposed in +exchange for her. Daland nor she had probably in all their lives +owned a precious stone. And this chest is full to the brim of jewels, +and that ship contains more still a hundred-fold, and the man asking +for his daughter's hand is clearly a hypochondriac, infinitely +sea-weary, who sees in the prospect of home and settled life the +whole desire of his heart, cloyed with riches and sick of wandering. +If he, Daland, should hesitate, the suitor might change his mind. As +for the daughter, she will either see the thing as he sees it,--how +could human woman see it differently?--or, dutiful, will be ruled by +his superior wisdom. "Indeed, stranger, I have a lovely daughter; +devoted to me with the most faithful filial love. She is my pride, +my highest wealth, my comfort in evil days, my joy in good."--"May +her love," the Hollander exclaims with feeling, "never fail her +father! True to him, she will be true likewise to her husband."--"You +give jewels, priceless pearls," remarks Daland, with an attempt at +dignity that does his self-respect good, no doubt, without greatly +impressing us, "but the greatest treasure of all is a faithful +wife!"--"And you will give me such a one?"--"You have my word. Your +fate moves my sympathy. Freehanded as you are, you give assurance of +magnanimity and high-mindedness. The like of you I have ever wished +for son-in-law, and even were your fortune not so great, I would +choose no other."--"My thanks. And shall I see the daughter this very +day?"--"The next favourable wind will take us home. You shall see +her, and if she pleases you..."--"She shall be my wife.--Will she +prove to be my angel?" he sighs aside; "Do I still permit myself +the folly of an illusion that an angel's heart will pity me? Hopeless +as I am, I yet follow the lure of hope!" + +"The wind is propitious, the sea is calm. We will heave anchor at +once, and speedily reach home," says Daland. "If I may beg,--do you +sail ahead," the Hollander suggests. "The wind is fresh, but my crew +is spent. I will let them rest awhile and then will follow."--"But +our wind?"--"Will continue for some time blowing from the south. My +ship is swift and will surely overtake yours."--"You believe so? +Very well! Let it be as you wish. Farewell, and may you meet my +child before the end of day!" The sailors have lifted the anchor +and set the sails. Daland goes on board. With the crew singing +cheerily together, the Norwegian ship starts upon the homeward +course. The Hollander returns to his silent deck. + +II + +The scene is next laid in the interior of Daland's house, the large +living-room, where a flock of girls sit around the fire with their +spinning-wheels. Beside the maps and pictures of nautical interest +forming the natural decoration of a sea-captain's house, there +hangs on the wall the picture of a pale black-bearded man, dressed +in the Spanish fashion of years long gone. + +The girls are spinning busily, singing while they work. They are +the sweethearts of the lads on Daland's ship, and their song is of +sailors at sea who are thinking of maidens at home, and if diligent +turning of the spinning-wheel might influence the wind--oh, but +they would speedily be back in harbour! + +One only of the young girls in the room is not working; Senta, +letting her wheel stand idle, leans back abstractedly in a great +armchair, with her eyes fixed upon the picture of the pale man. +Her old nurse, Mary, who spins diligently herself and keeps the +rest at their task, chides her, not very severely, for her idleness. +The girls in their song have been felicitating themselves that if +they are zealous at their spinning their lovers will give them +the golden earnings they bring home from the south. "You naughty +child," Mary says to Senta, at the end of the song, "if you do +not spin, you will receive no present from your _Schatz!_" Senta's +companions laugh at this. "There is no need for her to hurry. Her +sweetheart is not out at Sea. He brings home no gold, he brings home +game. Everyone knows in what the fortune of a huntsman consists!" +Senta does not stir; it is doubtful if she have heard. Without +removing her eyes from the picture of the pallid man, she hums +softly to herself certain fragment of old ballad. "Look at her!" +the nurse takes fuller account of her attitude and abstraction; +"Look at her! Always in front of that picture! Do you intend to +dream away your whole young life before that portrait?" Senta answers +gently, still without taking her eyes from the pale face: "Why +did you tell me who he is, and relate his story?... The unhappy +soul!" At the heavily burdened sigh upon which she utters the last +words, "God have you in His care!" exclaims Mary, vaguely troubled. +But the girls, who are in merry mood, laugh again. "Why, why, what +is that we hear? She sighs for the pale man! There you see what a +picture can do. She is in love. Please Heaven no mischief result! +Erik is somewhat hot of temper. Please God he do no damage! Say +not a word, else, aflame with wrath, he may shoot the rival from +the wall!" Their chatter finally reaching her consciousness, Senta +turns to them, annoyed. "Oh, keep still! Stop your silly laughing! +Do you wish to make me really cross?" Further to tease her, they +drown her voice with the refrain of their spinning-song: "Mutter +and hum, good little wheel, cheerily, cheerily turn! Spin, spin a +thousand threads, good little wheel, mutter and hum!"--"Do stop that +foolish song," begs Senta, "my ears are dazed with your muttering +and humming. If you wish me to attend, find something better to +do!"--"Very well," say the girls, "then sing yourself!" As a bird +to the nest, Senta returns to the subject engrossing her mind. +"Hear what I suggest: let Mary sing us the ballad." All understand +what ballad is meant. "God forbid!" cries the nurse; "It is likely +I will do it! Children, let the Flying Dutchman rest!"--"Yet how +often have I heard the ballad from you!" sighs Senta; and, as the +nurse continues obdurate, "I will sing it myself," she decides, +"and do you girls listen. Could I but bring home to your hearts +the wretchedness of the poor soul's fate, it could not fail to +move you to compassion!" The girls accept the offer with delight, +push aside their spinning-wheels and gather around the singer. +Only the old nurse, whose instinct has somehow caught alarm, and +who has conceived a curious dislike and fear of this pallid hero +of legend, refuses her countenance and testily goes on spinning +by herself in the chimney-corner. + +"Have you met the ship on the seas," sings Senta, "blood-red of +sail and black of mast? Upon the high deck, the pale man, the ship's +master, keeps incessant watch.--Hui! How the wind blows! Yohohey!--Hui! +How it sings in the stays! Yohohey!--Hui! Like an arrow flies the +ship, without stop, without rest! Yet might deliverance one day +come to the pale man, could he find a woman upon earth who should +love him faithfully until death. Oh, when, pale sea-farer, when +shall you find her? Pray to Heaven that a woman soon may keep her +troth to him! + +"With contrary wind, in the rage of the storm, he determined to +double a cape. He cursed and swore in mad mood: 'Not to all eternity +will I desist!'--Hui! And Satan heard it. Yohohey!--Hui! Took him +at his word. Yohohey!--Hui! And now, a lost soul, he sails the +seas, without stop, without rest. How the unhappy man, however, +might find deliverance upon earth, an angel of the Lord showed +him,--how he might earn eventual salvation. Oh, that you might, +pale sea-farer, find it! Pray to Heaven that a woman soon may keep +her troth to him! + +"He casts anchor every seven years, and to woo a woman comes ashore. +But never yet has he found a faithful one.--Hui! Spread the sails! +Yohohey!--Hui! Lift the anchor! Yohohey!--Hui! False love, false +troth! Back to sea, without stop, without rest!..." Senta who has +been singing with a spirit and expressiveness full unusual as applied +to a threadbare old ballad, has at this point reached such a pitch of +emotion that her voice fails and she sinks in her chair exhausted. +The girls, whom her earnestness has impressed into a realisation of +the facts sung by her, who have for a moment had through her eyes +the vision of that lost soul's wretchedness, take up the ballad +where she drops it, and sing on in tones which confess the contagion +of her sympathy: "Ah, where tarries she, to whom God's angel might +guide you? Where shall you find her who will be your own true and +loyal love until death?" With an air of illumination, Senta starts +to her feet and finishes the song with words which rise inspired +to her lips: "Let me be that woman! My truth shall work your +deliverance! God's angel guide you to me! Through me you shall +reach salvation!" She speaks so passionately, appears so strangely, +that her companions feel a sort of puzzled alarm. The old nurse, +frightened, rushes to her side with the cry: "Heaven help us!" +and all together they try to bring her to her normal self, calling +in tones of protest, "Senta! Senta!" + +Unnoticed of the rest, Erik, the huntsman, has during the last +moments been standing in the doorway. He has heard Senta's exclamation, +witnessed her strange condition, and affected by it differently +from all the others cries, heart-struck, "Senta, Senta, are you +determined to destroy me?"--"Oh, help us, Erik," the others appeal +to him; "She is out of her senses!" The nurse, who has felt her +blood unaccountably running chill, turns angrily to the picture +on the wall: "Abominable picture, out of the house you shall go +just as soon as the father comes home!"--"The father has arrived," +Erik informs them; "From the cliff I saw his ship come in." All +minds veer promptly from the subject which had been engrossing +them, to this delightful one of the arrival. The girls are for +running to the harbour upon the instant. Mary prevents them. "Stop! +Stop! You shall remain quietly at home. The sailor-folk will be +arriving with hollow stomachs. To the kitchen and cellar! No time +to waste! Let curiosity torment you as it may, first of all go +and do your duty!" She drives them before her from the room, and +follows. + +Senta is going, too, but Erik bars the way, pleading, "Stay, Senta, +stay for a moment! Release me from this torture--or, if you will, +destroy me quite!" She affects, as the simplest girl must, not to +understand. "Erik, what is it?"--"Oh, Senta, speak, say what is +to become of me! Your father is coming home. Before starting upon +a new voyage, he is sure to wish to carry out what he so often +has spoken of..."--"And what is that?"--"To give you a husband. +My heart with its unchanging love, my humble fortune, my hunter's +luck, these things being all I have to offer, will not your father +repulse me? And if my heart breaks with its misery, tell me, Senta, +who is there will speak a word for me?" He pleads warmly, young Erik; +he is at that age and point in life when not to obtain the woman he +has set his heart upon seems a calamity such as will extinguish +the sun, make the rest of life worthless; when refusal signifies +destruction, and he is not ashamed of this as a weakness, but proud +of it as a strength, and uses it as the most pertinent argument, +and feels no abjectness in confessing himself at the mercy of a +girl, a toy in her frail hands. He is the only lover of this type +in the Wagnerian assortment, and, it happens, the only one who +fails. Senta, we are permitted to divine, had not always felt as +removed from him as at this moment. It is but lately, no doubt, +with the turning perhaps of her seventeenth year, at some fuller +opening into womanhood, that her romantic dream has taken such +possession of her, and his warm-blooded urgent love become something +to withdraw from, without clearly formulated reason, by an instinct. +She tries now to silence him, to put him off with the excuse that +she must hurry to her father. But he is not to be put off. To detain +her, he reproaches. "You wish to avoid me!"--"I must go to the +harbour!"--"You shrink from me?"--"Oh, let me go!"--"You shrink +from the wound which yourself you made, the madness of love you +inspired? Oh, you shall hear me in this hour, shall hear the last +question I will ask. When my heart is breaking with anguish, will not +Senta herself speak a word for me?" She applies herself then to quiet +and comfort such evident suffering; he is after all flesh-and-blood +and close at hand, the other a dream. Her sentiments besides are +not very clear even to herself. "Do you doubt my heart?" she asks +reassuringly; "Do you doubt that it is full of kindness toward +you? What is it, tell me, makes you so unhappy? What suspicion +darkens your mind?"--"Oh, your father's heart is set upon riches. +And you, Senta, how should I count upon you? Do you ever grant +one of my requests? Do you not daily hurt and afflict my +heart?"--"Afflict your heart?..." she asks in wonder. "What am I +to think?" he goes on to show the jealous core of his unhappiness; +"That picture..."--"What picture?..."--"Will you renounce your +extravagant imaginings?"--"Can I keep from my face the compassion +I feel?"--"And that ballad... you sang it again to-day."--"I am a +child," she excuses herself, "and sing I know not what! Are you afraid +of a song, a picture?"--"You are so pale!" he replies, studying her +face dubiously; "Tell me, have I no reason to be afraid?"--"Should +I not be moved by the terrible doom of that unhappiest man?"--"But +my sufferings, Senta, do they no longer move you?"--"Oh, vaunt not +your sufferings!" she cries, almost impatiently; "What can your +sufferings be? Do you know what the fate is of that poor soul?" She +draws him before the picture, and while indicating it to him gazes +raptly at it herself; "Can you not feel the woe, the inexpressible +deep misery in the eyes which he turns upon me? Oh, the calamity +which robbed him eternally of rest, the sense of it pierces my +heart!" Veritable alarm seizes Erik at the earnestness she exhibits, +an alarm to something more vital even than his alert jealousy, a +terrible fear for her as apart from himself. "Woe's me!" he exclaims, +"I am reminded of my ill-boding dream! God have you in his care, +Satan has cast his toils about you!"--"What frightens you so?" +she asks wearily. It is as if excess of emotion had brought on an +immense fatigue; she sinks exhausted in the grand-sire's chair. +"Let me tell you of it, Senta. It is a dream, hear and be warned +by it." She leans back with closed eyes, and as he narrates it is +as if having fallen asleep she saw in dream what he describes. +"Upon the high cliff I lay dreaming. Beneath me I saw the expanse +of the sea; I could hear the surf where it breaks foaming against +the beach. I espied a foreign ship close to shore, a strange ship, +extraordinary. Two men drew toward land. One of them, I saw it, +was your father."--"And the other?" she asks, like a somnambulist, +without opening her eyes. "I recognised him well enough, with his +black doublet and pale face...."--"And his mournful glance...." +she adds, still with closed eyes. Erik points at the picture: "The +sea-man there."--"And I?..." she asks. "You came out of the house. +You ran to meet your father. But hardly had you reached the pair, +when you cast yourself at the feet of the stranger. I saw you clasp +his knees...." "He lifted me...."--"To his breast. Passionately +you clung to him, and kissed him ardently...."--"And then?" He +gazes at her with a sort of terror, as at something unnatural, in +her appearance of sleep. "I saw you fly together over the sea." +She seems to wake with a start. "He is looking for me!" she cries +in tones of extraordinary conviction, "I shall see him! My destiny +it is to perish with him!" Erik recoils: "Horrible! Ha, I see it +full plainly at last, she is gone from me! My dream boded true!" In +uncontrollable despair he flees from the house. Senta, her excitement +gradually dying, remains gazing at the picture. She is murmuring +softly to herself the burden of the ballad: "Ah, may you, pale +sea-farer, find her! Pray to Heaven that a woman soon may keep her +troth to him!"--when the door opens and Daland and the Hollander +appear at the threshold. Serita's eyes turn from the picture to +the stranger entering. A cry escapes her lips and her eyes fasten +on his face. His eyes, too, as he slowly steps into the room, bend +steadfastly upon hers. They gaze as if the same spell had fallen +upon both. + +The father, after a moment watching from the doorway, waiting for +his daughter to run as usual to greet him, speaks, not altogether +displeased: "My child, you see me standing at the door, and, what is +this? No embrace? No kiss? You stand in your place as if bewitched? +Do I deserve, Senta, such a welcome?"--"God be with you!" she murmurs +faintly, and, as he comes nearer, asks underbreath, without removing +her eyes from the figure--the counterpart of the picture on the +wall, "Father, speak, who is the stranger?" The father smiles: "You +are eager to know? My child, give kind welcome to the stranger. A +sea-man he is, like myself, and solicits our hospitality. Homeless +for long years, incessantly bound on long voyages, in far-off lands +he has gathered vast treasures. An exile from home, he offers rich +compensation for a place at the fireside. Speak, Senta, should you +be sorry that the stranger should dwell with us?" To the Hollander, +while the daughter without a word's reply continues in her fixed +contemplation of his face, he speaks aside: "Tell me, did I praise +her too highly? Now you see her in person, does she rightly please +you? Must I add more still to my overflowing praise? Confess that she +is an ornament to her sex!" The Hollander answers by an expressive +gesture, his eyes fast all the while upon the maiden's face. The +father turns anew to the daughter, and, without further preamble: +"My child, let it please you to show favour to this man. He requests +a goodly gift from your heart. Reach him your hand, for he shall +be your bridegroom. If you are of a like mind with your father, +to-morrow he shall be your husband." She shrinks, painfully, at +this bluntness and precipitancy. The father, not noticing, unpockets +jewels to show her. "Look at this circlet, behold these clasps. +The sum of his possessions makes these the merest trifle. How, +my precious child, should you not care for them? And it will all +be yours for the exchanging of rings with him. But... neither of +you speaks...." He looks at them in turn. They have neither heeded +nor heard, they are lost in contemplation of each other. "Am I in +the way?" They do not hear that either. "I clearly am," he says +to himself. "The best will be to leave them alone together." With a +parting private word to the daughter: "May you win this noble man! +Believe me, such good fortune is not common!" and to the Dutchman: +"I leave you to yourselves, and betake myself away. Believe me, fair +as she is, she is no less true than fair!" he discreetly withdraws. + +The strange predestined lovers stand for long moments steadily +gazing at each other, almost unconsciously, without motion to draw +nearer--or further apart. Each of them voices his thoughts, not +speaking to the other, but, dreamily, to himself. He murmurs: "As +if out of the distance of long-past days speaks to me the semblance +of this maiden. Even such as through dread eternities I dreamed +her, I behold her now here before my eyes. From the black depths +of my night I too have ventured to raise my longing eyes upon a +woman. Satan's malice left me a living heart, alas, that I might +never lose consciousness of my torment. The sullen glow which I +feel burning in my breast, should I, unhappy man, call it love? +Ah, no, the longing it is for redemption! Oh, might redemption be +my portion through such an angel as she is!" And she speaks, to +herself, half-aloud: "Have I sunk into a wonderful dream? Is this +which I see an illusion? Or have I until this moment lived in a +world of dream, and is this the day of awakening? He stands before +me, his features stamped with sorrow. His unparalleled sufferings +silently call to me. Can the voice of deepest pity deceive? As +I have so often beheld him he stands before me now. This sorrow +which burns within my bosom, this going out of desire toward him, +what must I call it? Oh, that the salvation which he goes seeking +without rest might reach the unhappy man through me!" + +He moves a little nearer to her at last, and asks with the simplicity +and sincerity which befit the hour so fraught with fate, "Will you +not reject your father's choice? That which he promised--what? +shall it hold good? Could you forever give yourself to me? You +could hold out your hand to the stranger? I might, after a life of +torment, find in your truth the long craved-for peace?" She answers +upon the instant, singularly sure of her heart: "Whoever you may be, +and whatever ruin your cruel fate reserve for you, and whatever +the destiny I thereby call upon myself, my obedient duty shall ever +be to my father's wish."--"What, so unconditionally? My sorrows, +is it possible, have moved you to such deep compassion?"--"Sorrows +how measureless!" she exclaims to herself. "Oh, might I bring you +consolation for those!" And he, overhearing: "Oh, gentlest sound +through the warring darkness! An angel are you! The love of an angel +can still the pain even of lost souls! If I may hope for salvation, +Almighty, let it be through this angel!" But in the uplift of hope +reviving, a remembrance gives him pause,--remembrance of the whole +condition of his deliverance; and, a strain of solemnity mingling +with his grateful tenderness, he warns her: "Could you apprehend +the fate which, in belonging to me, with me you must share, you +would pause to consider the sacrifice you bring in vowing to be +true. Your youth would flee shuddering at prospect of the fate to +which you would have doomed it, if the fairest virtues of womankind, +if sacred fidelity and truth, be not yours." She replies with no +less assurance than before, and her air of exalted inspiration: +"Well do I know the high duties of woman. Be comforted, unhappy man! +Let fate do justice of those who defy her decree. In my soul is +written the supreme law of truth, and unto him to whom I pledge my +faith this one truth it is which I give: Truth until death!" + +Like balm the words fall upon his wounded spirit. The powers of +darkness, it seems, are to be defeated; the evil star, it seems, +has set and the star of hope arisen. "Ye angels," he calls to them, +"who had quite forsaken me, confirm her heart in its constancy!" +And she, her heavenly pity prays: "Let him have reached home at +last! Let his ship rest here eternally in port!" + +Daland re-enters. "By your leave, my people outside can hardly +wait. Upon each home-coming, you must know, we hold a merry-making. +I would fain add to the cheer of the feast, and am come, with that +in mind, to ask if it might not be I made into a betrothal feast?--As +far as I see," he turns to the Hollander, "you have wooed to your +heart's purpose?--And you, my child," to Senta, "are you ready, +too?" Senta with solemn resolution reaches her hand to the Dutchman. +"Here is my hand, and here, never to repent it, I plight my troth +until death!" The Hollander, taking her hand, cries defiance to +the mockery of Hell through this fast truth of hers. At Daland's +summons thereupon, "To the feast, and let every one to-day make +merry!" the three turn to go and take share--even, incredibly, +the Dutchman,--in legitimate human rejoicings. + +III + +Close by Daland's house lies the rock-bound bay into which his ship +and the Dutchman's have come to anchor. The two crafts are seen in +the clear night, lying at a short distance from each other, hard by +the shore. The Norwegian is brightly illuminated, the sailors are +on deck making holiday. The Hollander presents a striking contrast: +not a light does it show, not a sound issues from it; it looms +shadowy and forbidding. + +"Steersman, leave the watch!" sing the roistering Norway lads; +"Furl the sails! Anchor fast! Come along, steersman! No wind is +there to fear nor adverse coast, and we mean to be right jolly. +Each of us has a sweetheart on shore, excellent tobacco and superior +brandy-wine. Rocks and storms are far outside, we laugh at rocks +and storms! Steersman, come and drink!" They dance on deck, marking +time with their heavy boots. + +From Daland's house comes the bevy of girls we know, laden with +generous baskets of food and drink. Finding their sweethearts so +merrily employed, "Just look at them!" they say; "As we live, they +are dancing! The ladies do certainly seem superfluous!" With a +playful feint of pique they pass without further notice the lighted, +noisy ship, and go toward the Hollander, whose blood-tinted sails +and black masts form but a grim silhouette against the star-sown +sky. "Hi, girls,--stop! Where are you going?" the simple-minded +sailors cry after them. But the girls do not abandon their small +vengeance of serving the strangers first. "You have a mind to fresh +wine, have you not? And is not your neighbour to have something too? +Are the liquor and the feast to be solely for you?" The young mate +rises to the occasion and has a fling at these suddenly-instituted +rivals: "Indeed, indeed, take something, do, to the poor lads. They +appear to be quite faint with thirst!" All turn their attention +squarely now to the foreign ship and take account of the strangeness +of its conditions. "Not a sound on board! And see, not a light! No +sign of the crew!"--"Halloo, sea-folk!" the maidens shout, "Halloo! +Do you need lights? Where are you? We cannot see...."--"Don't wake +them," chaff the Norwegians, "they are still asleep!" The girls +go close to the ship and shout again. "Halloo, sea-folk! Halloo, +answer!" There is along silence. The sailor-lads have the laugh now +on the girls. "Ha, ha! In very truth, they are dead. They are in no +need of food and drink." But the girls will not accept their defeat. +"What?" they continue calling to the invisible Dutch crew; "Are you +so lazy as to have gone already to bed? Is it not holiday-time for +you, too?"--"They lie fast in their lairs," jest the Norwegians; +"like dragons they guard their treasure!"--"Halloo, sea-folk!" +persist the girls; "Do you not wish for golden wine? Surely you +are thirsty?"--"They do not care to drink, they do not care to +sing," the sailor-lads tease; "there is no light burning in all +their ship!"--"Say," the girls continue addressing the unresponding +crew, "have you no sweethearts on land? Do you not wish to come +and dance on the friendly shore?"--"They are already old, they are +pale instead of ruddy," put in the sailors, "and their sweethearts, +they are dead!"--"Halloo!" the girls call louder, "Seafolk, wake +up! We are bringing you food and drink to heart's content!" The +sailors good-humouredly unite in chorus: "They are bringing you +food and drink to heart's content!" Another long pause, unbroken +by the faintest sound from the Dutch ship. The girls are becoming +uneasy. "It is a fact," they speak lower, struck; "They seem to +be all dead. They do not need food and drink." But the boys feel +jollier than ever. "You have heard of the Flying Dutchman," they +cry, by way of wild joke; "His ship, big as life and true to life, +you behold there!"--"Then don't wake the crew!" say the girls; "They +are ghosts, we could swear!" The sailor-lads take their turn now +shouting questions, humourously intended, at the sombre hull: "How +many hundreds of years have you already been at sea? Storm and rocks +have no terrors for you! Have you no letters, no commissions for +shore? We will see that they come to our great-great-grandfathers' +hands!" In the extravagance of fun, finally, raising their voices +to the very loudest, "Halloo, sea-folk!" they cry; "Spread your +sails! Give us a specimen of the Flying Dutchman's speed!" At the +prolonged silence following, the girls shrink away, at last really +frightened. "They do not hear. It makes our flesh creep. They do +not want anything. Why do we continue to call?"--"That is it, you +girls," the sailors heartily agree, "let the dead rest in peace! And +let us who are alive be happy!" The girls hand up to them the savoury +baskets. "There, take, since your neighbours disdain it."--"But +what? Are you not coming on board yourselves?" inquire the sailors, +when the girls do not as expected follow. It is early still; they +will return a little later, they promise, Till then let the boys +drink and dance, but be careful not to disturb the repose of their +weary neighbours! + +When the girls have returned to the house, the sailors open the +hampers and lustily fall to, casting playful thanks to those dumb +neighbours for this double share of victuals and wine. In the lightness +of their hearts they sing, and to the verses of their rollicking +"Steersman, leave the watch!" clash their goblets noisily together. + +Absorbed in their carousal, they have not remarked a beginning of +movement on the ship close by and in the water immediately around +it. This rises and falls in a mysterious violent swell, which rocks +the awakening ship, while the rest of the sea is calm. Storm-wind +whistles and howls among the rigging, though the night elsewhere is +still and bright. Livid fire flares up in the place of the watch-light, +bringing into distinctness the black cordage and spectral crew. The +latter seem to come to life in the weird illumination, and with +hollow voices suddenly entone a sea-song of strange intervals and +cadences, disquieting to ears of warm flesh and blood. "Yohohey! +Yohohohey!--Huissa! The storm drives us to land!--Huissa! Sail +in! Anchor loose!--Huissa! Run into the bay!--Black captain, go +ashore! Seven years are over, sue for the hand of a golden-haired +maiden. Golden-haired maiden, be true to him, be true! Cheerily, +cheerily, bridegroom, today! The storm-wind howls wedding-music, the +ocean dances to the tune.--Hui! Hark! His whistle sounds. Captain, +are you back again?--Hui! Hoist the sail! Your bride, say, where +is she?--Hui! Off, to sea! Captain, captain, you have no luck in +love! Ha, ha, ha! Blow, storm-wind, howl away! No damage can you +do to our sails! Satan has charmed them, they will not rend in +all eternity!" + +The Norwegian sailors, suspending their own clamour, have looked +and listened in an increasing wonder, which gradually turns to +horror. To overcome the superstitious fear they frankly own to, +they start singing together with all their might, to drown their +terror as well as the voices of the rival singers. The two sharply +contrasting sea-songs strive one against the other for a few moments, +then the Norwegians, giving up the contention, retire from deck to the +last man, tremulously making the sign of the cross. As they disappear +below, the Dutchmen break into a fearful yell of derision,--and +instantly darkness and complete silence reinvade the ship, while +perfect calm falls upon the sea. For a long interval the scene +so crowded and noisy a moment before, remains empty and still. + +Senta comes hurriedly from the house, followed by Erik, both in +great agitation. He has learned of her betrothal to the stranger. +"What have I heard?" he cries in incredulous anguish; "O God, what +have I seen? Is it a delusion? Can it be truth? Can it be fact?"--"Ask +not, Erik," she falters, in anguish, too; "I must not answer."--"Just +God! There can be no doubt of it. It is truth! What unholy power +swept you along? What force so quickly prevailed with you to make +you break this devoted heart? Was it your father? Ha, he brought +the bridegroom home with him. I recognised him. I forboded what +is coming to pass. But you? Is it possible? You give your hand +to the man who has hardly more than crossed your doorstep?"--"Oh, +say no more!" pleads the girl, torn by the sight of his sorrow, +and her necessity to refuse the only possible comfort, "Be silent! +I must! I must!..."--"Oh, that docility, blind as your act!" he +raves; "You were glad, at a beck from your father, to follow. With +a blow you crush the life out of my heart!"--"No more! No more!" +she tries to stop him; "I must not see you again, must not think of +you. High duty commands it!"--"What high duty? Is it not a higher +duty still to observe that which you once swore to me,--eternal +constancy?"--"What?..." she cries, in utmost dismay; "You say that +I swore eternal constancy to you?"--"Oh, Senta," he goes on, subdued +by her shocked amazement, sorrowfully to explain the simple rhetoric +of his misstatement, "will you deny it? Do you refuse to remember +that day when you called me to you in the valley? When in order to +gather the upland flowers for you I endured dangers and labours +innumerable? Do you remember how from the steep rocks on the shore +we watched your father departing? He sailed upon the white-winged +ship, and confided you to my care. When your arm encircled my neck, +did you not own once more your love for me? That which thrilled me +at the pressure of your hand, tell me, was it not the assurance +of your constancy?" + +Unseen of the two, for the moment so absorbed in each other, the +Hollander has come from the house. He has been standing near enough +to overhear Erik's last sentences; the significance of these seems +scarcely ambiguous, his inference is natural. It is a lovers' meeting +which he has chanced upon. Whatever her reasons for accepting him, +the Hollander,--it is clear that this young huntsman has a claim on +the girl who declared so glibly that the law of truth was written +in her soul. + +The two are interrupted by a wail. "Lost! Oh, lost! To all eternity +lost!" They turn and start in horror at sight of the Hollander. +"Farewell, Senta," he cries, and with the precipitation of despair +is making straight for the boundless deep. Senta throws herself +across his path. "Stay, O unfortunate!" But the Hollander pushes +past. "To sea! To sea! To sea until the end of time!--It is at an +end with your truth! At an end with your truth and my salvation! +Farewell, I would not bring about your ruin!" Erik, catching sight +of his face, the face of a lost soul, shudders at the measureless +woe in his eyes. "Stay," Senta implores, "stay, you shall never +depart!" Disregarding her, the Hollander blows a shrill note on +his whistle and shouts to his crew: "Hoist sail! Lift anchor! For +ever and ever bid farewell to the land!" + +There is struggle for a long moment among the three: hers to prevent +the Hollander; Erik's to keep back her, caught, as he believes, in +the claws of Satan; the Hollander's to leave. Since her faith is +turned to mockery, he, forced to doubt her, has fallen to doubting +God himself. There is no faith more on earth. Away, then, forever +away! "Learn the fate from which I save you!" he finally turns +to her, as if softened by her pleading to the point of wishing +her to know that he leaves not in hate and anger, but very pity +for her feminine frailty; and he states plainly the threatening +fate of which we heard him give but a warning before. "Condemned +am I to the most dreadful of dooms. Tenfold death would be to me +yearned-for bliss. A woman alone can deliver me, a woman who shall +keep her faith to me even until death. You, it is true, had sworn +truth to me, but not as yet before the Almighty, and that it is +which saves you. For know, unhappy woman, the fate which overtakes +her who breaks her vow of eternal constancy to me: Everlasting +damnation is her portion. Innumerable have been the victims already, +through me, of that dread sentence. But you--you shall be saved. +Farewell, then, and farewell, to all time, salvation!" Again he +turns shoreward. "Indeed, indeed, I know you," Senta follows still; +"Full well I know your fate. From the first moment of seeing you +I knew you. The end is at hand of your torture! I am she through +whose fidelity you shall find salvation!" + +Erik, in terror for Senta, has called wildly toward the house, +toward the ship, for help to save her. Daland, Mary, and the young +girls have come hurrying from the house, the Norwegian sailors +from the ship. "No, no, you know me not!" the Hollander is saying; +"No suspicion have you who I am! Inquire of the seas of every zone, +inquire of the seaman overscoring the main--Behold"--he points +at the ship whose blood-red sails are set and whose ghastly crew +show uncannily active in preparations for departure; "Behold and +recognise this ship, terror of every pious soul.... The Flying +Dutchman I am called!" + +With lightning rapidity he has gone aboard. Instantly the weird +ship is under way and amid the cavernous Yohohoes of its seamen +making for the open sea. + +Senta struggles to follow. Her father, Erik, her nurse, all forcibly +hold her back. But she is suddenly stronger than them all. She +tears herself free and rushing from them climbs a rock projecting +into the deep water. With all her strength she calls after the +departing Hollander, "Praise be to your angel and his decree! Here +am I, faithful to you until death!" and springs into the sea. + +Upon the instant, the red-sailed ship, with all its crew, sinks. A +great wave heaves high and falls again eddying, burying the whole. +Above the drifting wreckage, in the rosy light, fore-shine of sunrise, +are seen the transfigured and glorified forms of Senta and the +Hollander rising from the sea, clasped in each others' arms, and +floating heavenward. + + +We are always touched in this old world of daily wickedness and +pettiness to come upon stories which seem statements of a popular +ineradicable assurance that love has power to save. It is perhaps +oftenest the love of a woman, clinging pertinaciously to her affection; +but there are legends, too, of men,--who do not save, however, that +we remember, by long fidelity, but by ardour rather in overcoming +obstacles. They kiss the fair enchanted one in the form of a hideous +dragon and she is restored to beauty. One sees the simple philosophy +of such folk-tales. The evil doom is usually the punishment for +sin. The one who loves the person so doomed is innocent. If then +she makes the fate of the sufferer her own, she suffers unjust +punishment, and God, who inclines to mercy, must sooner pardon the +sinner for her sake than condemn the innocent. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wagnerian Romances, by Gertrude Hall + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WAGNERIAN ROMANCES *** + +***** This file should be named 27265.txt or 27265.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/7/2/6/27265/ + +Produced by Robert J. 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