Richard Wagner, by W.J. Henderson

"These 'Meistersinger' are, to Wagner's other conceptions, much the same as the 'Winter's Tale' is to Shakespeare's other works. Its phantasy is found in gaiety and drollery, and it has called up the Nuremberg of the Middle Ages, with its guilds, its poet-artisans, its pedants, its cavaliers, to draw forth the most fresh laughter in the midst of the highest, most ideal poetry. Exclusive of its sense and the destination of the work, one might compare the artistic work of it with that of the Sacraments-Häuschen of St. Lawrence (at Nuremberg). Equally with the sculptor has the composer lighted upon the most graceful, most fantastic, most pure form—boldness in perfection; and as at the bottom of the Sacraments-Häuschen there is Adam Kraft, holding it up with a grave and collected air, so in the 'Meistersinger' there is Hans Sachs, calm, profound, serene, who sustains and directs the action."

This charming critical view of the work from the woman who was afterward to be the sharer of Wagner's joys and labours is so apt that, although this is not a book of criticism, but rather of exposition, I give it place with pleasure. As a picture of the pseudo-artistic life and influence of the mastersingers the work, as genuine and great a comic opera as "Le Nozze di Figaro," is perfect. Louis Ehlert, in one of his pregnant essays, has disclosed a belief that Wagner was not a natural humourist, and that the fun of "Die Meistersinger" is laboured. This is a somewhat severe judgment, founded chiefly upon observation of the character of Beckmesser. The unfortunate Marker is, indeed, a somewhat artificial figure, but much depends upon his impersonator. He may be made a burlesque by very slight overaccentuation of his peculiarities, and the temptation to gain the applause and laughter of the unthinking is too strong for any but a great artist. The true humour of "Die Meistersinger" lies in its presentation of the shallow, pedantic, poetic art of the time, the futile methods of the tribunal, the homely bourgeois life, the quaint pageantry of the guilds, and the pretty plot by which Sachs overthrows the vainglorious pretender to the hand of Eva, and smooths the path of true love.

Behind this delightful comedy there lies a symbolism which should not be overlooked. The masters represent the tyranny of formalism in art, the dominance of that opinion which mistakes form for substance, and attributes to the outward shape of every work the credit for its merit. Walther von Stolzing, in his efforts as poet and singer, is the embodiment of the free impulse, the desire for untrammelled expression. Sachs, without the creative power of the young knight, is the truer artist. He represents the influence of enlightened and sympathetic intelligence. He discerns at once the innate power of the new poesy which Walther brings into the dusty circle of masters, but at the same time he perceives its need of discipline. It is he, therefore, who induces the new genius to submit itself to the sovereignty of the fundamental laws of form—a vastly different thing from practising mere formalism.

Students of Wagner's works have often been invited to accept Walther as a representative of Wagner himself. This is not justified by anything in the work or in the other writings of its creator. Nevertheless we have ground, and the support of Wagner, for the assumption that he really designed Walther to represent the spirit of progress in music, while the masters embodied that of pure pedantry. Those two powers have always been at war in the world of art and always will. Theoreticians and critics publish rules, which they deduce from the practice of the great artists. The next original genius who arrives has something new to say and says it in a new way. He throws overboard some of the old formulas and invents new ones, as Wagner did, and the theoretical and critical world bursts into an outcry of indignation at the disturbance of settled principles. After a time the two forces become reconciled, and the new rules find their way into the theoretical treatises, while the critics descant upon the additional flexibility imparted by them to art. Wagner, in "Die Meistersinger," has shown us the spirit of progress in its jubilant youth, scoffing at the established rules of which it is ignorant. One of the finest lessons of the symbolism of the comedy is that a musician, or any other artist, must master what has already been learned of his art before he can advance beyond it.

The musical plan of "Die Meistersinger" embraces such a wealth of detail that a complete exposition of it would consist of a full analysis of the score. There are many leading motives, and these are repeated or developed with all of the wonderful skill which was at Wagner's command when he undertook this work. While impracticable to give an exhaustive analysis of the score, it is not too much to invite the reader to observe the general musical development of the drama. The prelude contains several of the most important thematic ideas, and these we may first consider. The Vorspiel begins with the Meistersinger motive:

These two themes, with their solidity, breadth, dignity, and formality, serve admirably to present all the best musical elements of an art which embodied the glorification of rule and the potency of tradition. The second theme has a special interest for us because Wagner built it on the beginning of a genuine Meistersinger tune (the "long tone" of Heinrich Müglin). This tune begins thus:

Throughout the drama these Meistersinger themes are employed by Wagner to typify the art represented by his masters, and, as Mr. Krehbiel has very pertinently pointed out, their majesty and musical beauty are satisfactory evidence that the composer did not wish us to undervalue the artistic movement of which they are typical. Opposed to these themes we hear in the Vorspiel others associated with the uprising of emotion, of passion in the young lovers of the play. These themes, irregular in rhythm, restless in general style, breathe the leaping aspirations of the romantic personages, and thus embody the romantic principles which are constantly urging progress in art. The first of these is a theme designed to express Walther's artistic emotion and its search for expression:

The second embodies the young knight's love and its longing, and thus becomes the property also of Eva:

Two other themes must here be noted, that of the closing passage of the prize song, and that of Spring. The latter is employed especially to designate spring as a period of emotional blossoming rather than a mere season. It is the springtime of Walther's life and passion and song:

To these themes must be added that of Derision, heard in the last act, when the people are amazed at the appearance of Beckmesser as a contestant:

Out of this material the prelude is built, and its character is that of a contest of forces with a final reconciliation, which is, as we have seen, the basis of the artistic symbolism of the comedy.

The first act begins with a chorale, in which the old-fashioned style of writing is exhibited. As the congregation disperses, Eva and Walther enter into eager converse, and the themes of Emotion and Spring are heard. And here I must ask the reader to note the wonderful use Wagner has made of this sequence of tones:

By a very simple change the first three tones are altered to those of the Spring motive or the closing strain of the prize song. It is by such logical musical processes that Wagner makes the development of his dramas so artistic and so convincing, while at the same time he fascinates the ear by the purely sensuous beauty of the varying melodies. The Spring theme plays a most important part in the score, and it is worthy of note that it is so pregnant with meanings that whether played fast or very slowly it is eloquent, though with a difference. Note, if you will, the extraordinary force with which it sings from the orchestra when Sachs's mind, in the second act, is ruminating on the events of the trial and cannot free itself of the influence of Walther's song. But to proceed with the first act: After the scene of the lovers, with the entrance of David, we begin to hear lively, rhythmic melodies, associated with the youth and gaiety of the apprentices. A portion of this music signifies the chastisement afflicted upon an apprentice by a master, and appears several times in the score to call attention to Sachs's repression of David:

When David tells Walther of the art of a mastersinger we hear the lovely theme of the Art of Song, plainly enough a variant of the melodic basis of the prize song:

All of the music of David's scene with Walther is light and airy, but with the entrance of the masters we hear serious ideas again, the first of them being the motive of the Council:

The second, a very tender and gracious theme, is that of St. John's Day, the day of the contest for Eva's hand, and it is developed with wonderful eloquence in the address of Pogner:

This is heard frequently in the score, and when Beckmesser, acting as Marker, shows the slate covered with notes of errors in Walther's song, this theme is heard distorted and caricatured. In answer to Kothner's inquiry as to who was his master, Walther sings the lyric "Am stillen Herd," and its second phrase (marked a) reveals its foundation on the Spring theme:

The subsequent trial song, as will be noted at a single hearing, throbs throughout with the Spring theme. Note the fine contrast made by Kothner's formal statement of the laws of the mastersong, ending with a fine vocal exfoliation in the old style:

The act comes to an end with a general discussion among the masters, while Walther vainly endeavours to make himself heard and the apprentices sing a chorus of derision. As Sachs remains in the foreground, moved by the new music which he has heard, we hear once more its fundamental phrase, the Spring motive.

The music of the second act is simplicity itself up to the dialogue of Pogner and Eva. The score is rich with themes already made known, but when the father tells his daughter how she must on the morrow make her choice before all the citizens, we hear for the first time a peculiarly lovely motive intended to designate the old city itself:

Familiar motives, employed to make a mood-picture of great beauty, illustrate the scene between Sachs and Eva. But here, indeed, we must pause to note the wonderful expressiveness of the monologue of Sachs, preceding his scene with Eva. The orchestral part throbs with the Spring motive, which finally swells into a broad and beautiful cantilena. The lyric of the first act is quoted by the orchestra also, and at length Sachs concludes with a bit of new melody of his own. He, too, is filled with the spirit of the new music:

Walther's entrance brings back the Knight theme, and others which have been heard before. The music of the summer night, heard when the watchman is approaching, is very beautiful, and its return at the close of the act, punctuated by phrases of Beckmesser's serenade, is still more lovely. A fine contrast is that between Sachs's uproarious song, which is thoroughly good in the old style, and that of Beckmesser, which is bad. The development of the turmoil in the street is worked out with immense contrapuntal skill, and we hear in the midst of it a new theme, that of the Beating, made skilfully out of the fourths used in the lute accompaniment to the Marker's serenade:

The gradual building up of the turmoil at the end of the act, when the excited people pour into the streets and the general fighting begins, is wonderfully worked out in the score, in which the Beating motive plays a prominent and humorously expressive part. In the midst of the rumpus, the horn of the returning watchman is heard, its discord making a fine musical effect. After the crowd has dispersed and the watchman has repeated his droning formula, the music of the summer night, as I have already mentioned, steals back in an ethereal whisper, and the act comes to a close with one of those beautiful points of repose which Wagner knew so well how to make after a movement of extreme agitation.

The third act is preceded by an introduction of wonderful beauty and expressiveness. With the chorale of the last scene, the shoemaker song sung by Sachs in the second act, and the "Wahn" motive, the composer paints for us the very soul of the poet-cobbler. The "Wahn" motive is that on which is founded the great monologue of this act, beginning with the words "Wahn, Wahn, überall Wahn"—"Madness, madness, everywhere madness."

The whole scene between Sachs and Walther is surcharged with melody of the most luscious kind, and we hear the beginning of Walther's mastersong, the song which finally wins for him the prize:

The music accompanying the entrance of the sore and limping Beckmesser is filled with exquisite humour, and perhaps in it all there is nothing more subtle than the use of the "Wahn" motive when the Marker, after his agitated rush about the room, sits on the bench and vainly strives to think of a new song.

The music of the scene following Eva's entrance is built on familiar motives, whose significance here is easily traced, and the quintette, as will be noted at the first hearing, is made from the prize song. The recitation of Sachs preceding the quintette is one of the most beautiful passages in the opera, but it is unnecessary to think of it as built of motives. The last scene opens with much freely composed music, the entrance of the guilds and the dance. With the advent of the masters we return to the dignified music associated with them. The rest of the scene is simple. The people sing the beautiful chorale, "Wach' auf," Beckmesser makes his foolish attempt to sing Walther's words to the tune of his own serenade, and then Walther sings the song as it ought to be sung, slightly altering the "Abgesang" in his fresh inspiration.

The principal characteristic of the music of "Die Meistersinger" is its lyric quality. There are no tragic passions to be depicted, no evil thoughts to be expressed. Beckmesser alone has malice, and that is of a petty, foolish sort, best treated, as it is in this exquisite work, with ridicule. The other personages are all lovable; the motives all kindly. The underlying elements which are in contest, the opposing principles, whose workings make the ethical basis of the drama, are artistic, the old against the new, the formal against the free. The expression of each must of necessity be lyric, the one in well-regulated rhythms, the other in rushing bursts of apparently spontaneous melody. But the total result is one great spring ode, throbbing with the very heart-beats of young poesy and song, and sure at all times and in all places to captivate those who have ears to hear and souls to understand.

DER RING DES NIBELUNGEN

First performed in its entirety at Bayreuth, August, 1876; Munich, 1878; Vienna, Leipsic, 1879; Hamburg, 1880; Berlin, 1881; London, Königsberg, Hanover, Danzig, Breslau, Bremen, Barmen, 1882; New York, Metropolitan Opera House, March 4, 5, 8 and 11, 1889.

DAS RHEINGOLD

This performance was against the wish of Wagner. The first authorised performance was that at the Festspielhaus, Bayreuth, August 13, 1876, when the cast was as follows:

Weimar, Vienna, Leipsic, Hamburg, Brunswick, 1878; Mannheim, Cologne, 1879; Frankfort, London, 1882.

First performed in America at the Metropolitan Opera House, New York, Jan. 4, 1889.

DIE WALKÜRE

First performed at the Royal Court Theatre in Munich, contrary to the author's wish, on Aug. 26, 1870.

Vienna, New York, 1877; Rotterdam, Leipsic, Hamburg, Schwerin, 1878; Weimar, Mannheim, Cologne, Brunswick, 1879; Königsberg, Frankfort, 1882.

SIEGFRIED

Hamburg, Vienna, Munich, Leipsic, 1878; Schwerin, Brunswick, 1879; Cologne, 1880.

First performed in America at the Metropolitan Opera House, New York, Nov. 9, 1887.

GÖTTERDÄMMERUNG

First performed in America at the Metropolitan Opera House, New York, Jan. 25, 1888.

(The Waltraute and Norn scenes were omitted. They were first given at the Metropolitan on January 24, 1899, when Mme. Schumann-Heink was the Waltraute, and also one of the Norns. The others were Olga Pevny and Louise Meisslinger. "Der Ring des Nibelungen" was first performed without cuts at the Metropolitan on January 12, 17, 19, and 24, 1899.)

DER RING DES NIBELUNGEN

I.—The Sources of the Poems

The gigantic tetralogy of Wagner must be studied as a single opus, for such indeed it is. A poem in four cantos, a dramatic sequence after the manner of the Greeks, it is the story of a single action, a single crime and its tragic atonement. What that story is we shall presently see. How Wagner conceived and created his new and wonderful version of the Norse mythology, the Volsunga Saga, and the "Nibelungen Lied," is what must first occupy our attention. Wagner's first mention of this work is found in a letter to Liszt, written in June, 1849, when he announces his intention of setting to music his "latest German drama, the 'Death of Siegfried.'" This drama embodied that part of the story now told in "Götterdämmerung," and in the composition of it Wagner found that the necessary explanations of the incidents leading up to the story quickly became too long and complex. He decided that he must write a prefatory drama on the story of the young Siegfried, and in doing this he found himself involved again in explanatory difficulties. Thus he finally decided to make a trilogy with a prologue. In a long letter of Nov. 20, 1851, to Liszt he explains how the completed form of "Der Ring" came into existence.

The books of "Das Rheingold" and "Die Walküre" were finished in the first week of November, 1852. He then set about reconstructing the other two, already written, but now in need of extensive alterations. The story of the completion of the poem in its new form and the beginning of the music has already been told in the biographical part of this work. It is necessary only to recapitulate here that the text was finished in 1853. The music of "Rheingold" was begun in the autumn of 1853 at Spezzia, and finished in January, 1854. He wrote to Liszt on Jan. 14: "I went to this music with so much faith, so much joy; and with a true fury of despair I continued, and have at last finished it." The music of "Die Walküre" was begun in June, 1854, and finished late in the same year. The instrumentation was commenced with the opening of the following year. Then came the visit to London, where the score of the first act was completed in April. The score of the first two acts was sent to Liszt on Oct. 3. Wagner having been delayed in the work by many distractions and by mental depression, it was not till the ensuing year that the score was wholly written.

The music of "Siegfried" was begun in 1857, and the first act was finished in April of that year. The second act was begun, and then came the interruption caused by Wagner's eagerness to return to active touch with the stage, his pressing need of money, and his fear that he would not live to complete his gigantic undertaking. This second act, therefore, was not completed till June 21, 1865, at Munich, "Tristan und Isolde" having been written in the meantime. The third act was finished early in 1869. The music of "Götterdämmerung" was begun at Lucerne in 1870, and completed at Bayreuth in November, 1874. The point at which the work on this tetralogy was suspended for that on "Tristan und Isolde" is designated in a letter to Liszt, dated May 8, 1857. Wagner says: "I have led my young Siegfried to a beautiful forest solitude, and there have left him under a linden tree, and taken leave of him with heartfelt tears. He will be better off there than elsewhere."

Just how Wagner came to take up the subject of Siegfried's death is not known. A recent German writer in one of the Munich newspapers has asserted that the suggestion came from Minna, his first wife. This assertion is in line with the belief of many that Minna was more sinned against than sinning, and that Wagner's complaints of her inability to understand him were intended to divert suspicion from the real causes of the troubles between them. It seems hardly likely, however, that a woman of Minna's simple character would have conceived the availability of the Siegfried legend for Wagner's ideal music drama. The fact that Siegfried had for centuries been the popular mythical hero of the German people and that his deeds and personality had constituted most of the materials of one of the great mediæval German epics, the "Nibelungen Lied," seems sufficient to have attracted the attention of the master to the subject. He himself says in his "Communication" that even while he was at work on "Lohengrin" he was debating which of two subjects, "Friedrich Barbarossa" or "Siegfried," he should take up next. He adds:

"Once again and for the last time did myth and history stand before me with opposing claims; this while as good as forcing me to decide whether it was a musical drama or a spoken play that I had to write."

It was with the decision to utilise only mythical subjects for his serious dramas that he concluded to lay aside "Barbarossa" and work upon "The Death of Siegfried." This poem in its original form is included in the collected writings of Wagner, and is interesting as being the first attempt of Wagner to embody the legendary tragedy in a drama. A reading of it will show clearly why he was obliged to write three other dramas to lead up to this one and make its meaning comprehensible. In working out the plan as a whole he selected and utilised with his customary skill the salient points of the Norse and German forms of the story, and he found more suitable material in the sagas than in the German epic. And out of the Northern mythology, so beautifully stored in the sagas, he evolved those ethical features which raise "Der Ring des Nibelungen" to a position beside the great Greek tragedies of antiquity.

We must study these dramas chiefly by tracing their sources and showing how Wagner utilised his materials. He himself wrote an article entitled "The Nibelungen Myth as Material for a Drama," and in it may be found the germinal form of the entire story as it first took cognisable existence in his mind. In its completed shape, however, it differs from this embryonic outline in many particulars.

First, then, the age of the legends upon which these dramas are founded is not so great as might appear from their mythological nature, and that will explain some of their curiosities. We are prone, when watching the actions of Wagner's gods, to think that these stories date from the antique age of fable, but the truth is that they came into existence in the modern age of fable, the early centuries of the Christian era. Furthermore, although Wagner has used chiefly the Norse forms of the materials, the great Siegfried legend was originally the production of the German people. The Scandinavian bards obtained some of their ideas from Germany, and thus came about the strange mingling of Norse mythology and Teutonic fable.

When the dominion of Rome in the west of Europe was overthrown in 476 A.D., the Teutonic race occupied the country from the banks of the Rhine and the Danube to the coasts of Norway. The invaders who settled in the southern provinces of Europe soon lost their distinctive speech. But in Germany and Scandinavia the old tongues remained, and consequently poetic recitation, the custom of long centuries, continued. Tacitus tells us that the people of these northern lands were accustomed to store their history in rhyming chronicles repeated by the bards. It was not till the reign of the wise and heroic Charlemagne (742-814) that these chronicles were collected. Nothing remains of the collection which he made, but it can hardly be doubted that some of the materials found in the Siegfried legend formed part of the old stories of the bards, for it has been traced back as far as the sixth century, when its germs were recognisable. In the first preserved form of the story of this hero's exploits we find recorded the fabulous history of times not widely separated from those of the conquest of Rome's western empire, for in the sixth century appeared in tradition the names not only of Siegfried and Dietrich von Bern, but Theodoric the Great and Attila.

This first preserved form of the legend is called the "Heldenbuch" ("Book of Heroes"). In its present shape it dates from the latter part of the twelfth century, but there is evidence that it was in existence long before that period. It is a collection of poems dealing with the events of the time of Attila and the incursions of the German nations into Rome. The principal personages who appear in this book are: Etzel, or Attila; Dietrich, or Theodoric the Great; Siegfried, Gudrune, Hagen, and others who reappear in the "Nibelungen Lied." The period of the events which occur in the Wagnerian dramas may be estimated by the formation of a succession of incidents leading back to Attila, an historical personage with an established date. In "The Horny Siegfried," one of the poems of the "Heldenbuch," we find matter which serves as a prelude to the "Nibelungen Lied." In this poem Siegfried appears as the embodiment of manly heroism, beauty, and virtue, as he was known to Teutonic song and story for centuries. From having bathed in the blood of dragons he was invulnerable except in one spot, between the shoulders, on which a leaf had happened to fall. Having rescued the beautiful Chriemhild from dragons (or a giant) and obtained possession of the treasures of the dwarfs, he returns her to her father, King of Wurms, and then marries her.

The "Nibelungen Lied" identifies Chriemhild as the sister of Gunther, the Gutrune of Wagner's version. Chriemhild, in order to obtain revenge for the treachery of Siegfried and Brünnhilde, which I shall recount in the outline of the "Nibelungen Lied," after the death of the former marries Attila. It was twenty-six years after the death of Siegfried when she carried out her plan of revenge. How long this was before the death of Attila is not related, but we know that he died in 453 A.D. He is supposed to have been born about 406, which would have made him forty-seven years old at the time of his death. It was thirteen years after her marriage to Attila when Chriemhild accomplished her revenge. Supposing that Attila's death took place not less than a year later, that would fix the date of the marriage at 439, or when this busy warrior was thirty-three and perhaps ready to rest, and that of the revenge at 452. Therefore, as the "Nibelungen Lied" tells us that the death of Siegfried took place twenty-six years before the accomplishment of the revenge, we may suppose that the hero expired in 426. At any rate, the date of his death must have been in the early part of the fifth century. And equally, therefore, much of the supernatural paraphernalia of "Götterdämmerung" belongs to the store of fable which has come down from that period. If one is curious to establish dates for the earlier dramas he must first discover how long Siegfried and Brünnhilde remained together on the Valkyrs' Hill after the sleeping beauty was awakened by the young hero. The date of "Die Walküre" would be some twenty or twenty-two years earlier, for in the last scene of that work we learn that Sieglinde is to become his mother. As for "Das Rheingold," that must be left to conjecture entirely.

From the Heldenbuch the next step in the German versions of the legend carries us to the "Nibelungen Lied." Here, as I have noted, we find Chriemhild as the sister of Gunther. Siegfried has heard of her beauty and determines to win her as his bride. But all his efforts are in vain. Meanwhile, to the Court news comes of the beautiful Brunhild, Queen of Isenland, a woman of matchless courage and strength. Every suitor for her hand must abide three combats with her, and if vanquished is put to death. Gunther decides to try to win her, and Siegfried accompanies him on his expedition, with the understanding that if they succeed he is to have Chriemhild to wife. Arriving at the Court of Brunhild, Siegfried, in order to increase respect for the standing of Gunther, poses as his friend's vassal. The combats take place, and Siegfried, making himself invisible by the aid of the magic cap which he obtained from the dwarfs, assists Gunther to conquer the Queen.

Gunther weds Brunhild and Siegfried marries Gutrune, but the proud Queen of Isenland does not relish the idea of having for a sister-in-law the wife of a vassal. Gunther tells her that Siegfried is a Prince in his own country, but she disbelieves her spouse, and to punish him for his falsehood denies him her embraces, binds him with her magic girdle, and hangs him on a nail. Siegfried, having pity on Gunther, promises to deprive Brunhild of the girdle and make her a wife in fact as well as in name. So on the following night, disguised by the Tarnkappe, he takes Gunther's place, embraces the unwilling Brunhild, and carries off her magic girdle and her ring. Gutrune misses Siegfried from the chamber, and in the end he is compelled to explain to her. He foolishly gives her the girdle and the ring. The two women subsequently come to hot words on a question of precedence in entering a church (like Elsa and Ortrud), and Chriemhild in her anger charges Brunhild with her relations with Siegfried, producing the ring as evidence. Then Brunhild, discovering the deception of the Tarnkappe, vows vengeance, in the attainment of which Hagen aids her. Having induced Chriemhild to disclose to him the mortal spot on Siegfried's body, he drives a spear into it and slays him. It is to secure revenge for this murder that Chriemhild marries Attila.

This is a very brief and imperfect outline of the mighty epic of mediæval Germany. It breathes the spirit of mediævalism, and it contains none of the mythological features which appear in the beautiful Scandinavian version of the story of Siegfried. Yet it has certain incidents employed by Wagner in the dramas, especially in "Götterdämmerung." The use of the Tarnhelm, the substitution of Siegfried for Gunther in the wedding chamber, the discovery of the deception through the recognition of the ring by Brünnhilde, and the slaying of Siegfried by Hagen's spear-thrust in the back—all appear in the drama in most significant forms.

It is to the Norse forms of the legend, however, that we must turn for the earlier parts of Wagner's story and for the most significant features of the undercurrent of ethical thought. This version in its oldest form is found in the Eddas, some of which are undoubtedly of great antiquity. Yet in these poems we meet with the historic name of Attila. No doubt many deeds performed by earlier and forgotten heroes were attributed to this wonder-worker of the early Middle Ages, and in this way he became a sort of composite figure, and thus was thrust into the later versions of the Eddaic tales. All the other personages in the story are mythical. As Mr. Sparling notes in his introduction to the translation of the Volsunga Saga made by William Morris and Eirikr Magnusson,[39] only fragments of the Eddaic poems still exist, but "ere they perished there arose from them a saga," that of the race of Volsungs.

How old the original Eddaic stories are can only be conjectured. When the Scando-Gothic races overran Europe they carried at least the germs of these stories with them, but no man knows where they got them. But it is certain that the northern versions of the Nibelung tales, as known to us now, must have originated in the same legends as the "Nibelungen Lied." It was not until the middle of the seventeenth century that the collection of the rhymed Eddas made by Saemund the Wise was discovered, and the prose Eddas of Snorre Sturleson (born 1178, died 1224) were written a century later than these. For Saemund the Wise was born in 1056 and died in 1131, and therefore the date of his collection of the rhymed Eddas is not much earlier than that of the "Nibelungen Lied." Both the Eddas and the Lied were widely diverging branches of an old trunk, and that accounts in a measure for both their resemblances and their differences. The southern version is more adulterated with inexact history, while the northern embodies more of the fundamental religious mythology of the people.

Far away in the snowy fastnesses of Iceland were preserved the ancient stories of the hero Sigurd and the heroine Brünnhilde. Even to this day these stories are sung or told by the secluded people of the Faroe Islands. Whence did they procure them? From the scattering of races, which, begun according to religious history at the end of the flood, continued through the Dark Ages. So impressed upon the imaginations of the wanderers were these old tales that they connected historical personages with the actors in them, not only, as we have seen, by attributing fabulous deeds to real beings, but by tracing the descent of actual persons from those of mythical nature. For example, the first King of Dublin was Olaf the White, and, according to tradition, he was the son of Ingiald, son of Thora, daughter of "Sigurd Snake-in-the-Eye," son of Ragnar Lodbrok by Aslaug, daughter of Sigurd by Brünnhilde. And the widow of Olaf was one of the settlers of Iceland. It was in the ninth century that Harold Fairhair determined to conquer all Norway. He fought also in the British Isles, and after a long and bloody struggle made himself master of Ireland as well as of the northern coasts. Many of the vanquished, including Olaf's widow, took refuge in the western islands, and with them went the legends, which had come up from the Rhine valley, and which, safely buried in the fastnesses of Iceland and the Faroes, grew into the sagas known to us as the Elder Eddas. "There also shall we escape the troubling of kings and scoundrels," says the Vatsdoelsaga. In their security they made their wondrous songs.

It was in 1643 that Brynjolf Sveinsson, Bishop of Skalholt, discovered the manuscripts of Saemund the Wise, and he christened them the "Edda Saemundar hinns froda," or "Edda of Saemund the Wise." The term "Edda," which is Icelandic for "grandmother," had been applied already to the prose tales of Sturleson, though the latter are of later origin than the former. The two works are frequently distinguished as the Elder and the Younger Edda. The Elder is often called the Poetic Edda, because it consists chiefly of songs, while the Younger is often named the Prose Edda. The first part of the Elder Edda gives the mythology of the North, while the lays of the heroes are found in its second part. One of the translators of the Prose Edda has described it as a sort of commentary on the Poetic Edda.[40]

The poems which contain the story of Sigurd and Brünnhilde are a portion of the second part of the Elder Edda. An important part, recounting the story of Sigurd's life from his meeting with Brünnhilde to his death, has been lost, and for that part of the tale we are compelled to go to the Prose Edda and the Volsunga Saga. In the second part of his Younger Edda, Snorre Sturleson rehearsed briefly in simple prose the story of Sigurd the Volsung, which in the Elder Edda ran through several poems, forming in their natural connection an epic of great power. As one of the historians of Norse literature says:

"The sad and absorbing story here narrated was wonderfully popular throughout the ancient Scandinavian and Teutonic world, and it is impossible to say for how many centuries these great tragic ballads had agitated the hearts of the warlike races of the North. It is clear that Sigurd and Brynhilda, with all their beauty, noble endowment, and sorrowful history, were real personages, who had taken powerful hold on the popular affections in the most ancient times, and had come down from age to age, receiving fresh incarnations and embellishments from the popular Scalds."

It is possible that this is true, but the original history of the personages is quite lost. The story told in the "Skaldskaparmal," the second part of the Younger Edda, is a rehearsal of the contents of the "Short Lay of Sigurd," "The Lay of Fafner," and one or two others in the Elder Edda bearing on the Volsung tale. Wagner has utilised certain portions of these original lays, especially that of Fafner. The words of the Forest Bird to Siegfried come very close to those of the Eagles, who sang to Sigurd in "The Lay of Fafner":

Compare this passage with the words of the Forest Bird in Act II. of "Siegfried":

But it was in the Volsunga Saga that Wagner found his material in its fullest and most available form. None of the editors of the remnants of Icelandic literature makes it clear, so far as I have been able to ascertain, whether the Volsunga Saga is older than Snorre's Edda or not. The facts seem to be that most of the sagas, including this one, had come into settled form about 900 A.D., and were written down between 1140 and 1220, or during the lifetime of Snorre. It is probable, therefore, that Snorre's recapitulation of the Volsung story was founded as much upon the Volsunga Saga as upon the poems of the Elder Edda. In all likelihood he knew both, and accepted the definite outline of the saga as a shape into which to put his recital of the contents of the lays.

The value of the Volsunga Saga in relation to the Nibelung tale lies in the fact that its compiler was acquainted with some of the lays of the Elder Edda, now lost, and that he recounted their incidents for us, and that it supplied Wagner with the principal materials for three out of four of the "Ring" dramas. The origin of this saga is not known, but may easily be surmised. The Norse sagaman was a luxury of every Court, as were the Norman minstrel and the Saxon gleeman, and it was frequently his office to glorify his sovereign in song by connecting him with the marvellous heroes of ancient fable. Students of mediæval epics know that it was common for their makers to seek thus to laud their patrons. An interesting instance of this is the original French story of the Holy Grail, in which an attempt is made by Kiot of Provence to show that the sacred vessel was first consigned to the care of Titurel, a mythical Prince of the Anjou Dynasty. The Volsunga Saga appears to have been arranged largely for the purpose of glorifying the children of Olaf.

As a corollary to the chief saga there may be mentioned the Thidrek (Dietrich) Saga, which includes the Niflunga Saga, and was, as its writer states, made from the German stories. This saga agrees in some parts with the poems of Eddaic origin, and in others with the "Nibelungen Lied." There is also the Nornagest Saga, in which Nornagest (the Guest of the Norns) tells how he witnessed some of Sigurd's deeds and his death. But the fundamental saga is that which tells the story of the Volsung race.

The story of the Volsunga Saga is too long to be repeated in full in this volume, but an outline of its principal incidents must be given. The genealogy of the Volsung race begins with Odin, whose son was Sigi, who begat Rerir, the father of Volsung, a mighty king. In the midst of Volsung's palace, with its branches piercing the roof, stood the great tree called the Branstock. Volsung had ten sons and a daughter, the latter born a twin with the eldest son. Their names were Sigmund and Signy. King Siggeir of Gothland wedded Signy, and at the feast there came into the hall an old, one-eyed man, wrapped in a robe, and he struck a sword into the Branstock so that no man save Sigmund could draw it forth. Siggeir was jealous and when he had returned to his own land with his bride he invited Volsung and his sons on a visit. When they had come, he fell upon them and slew Volsung and set his sons in a wood to be devoured by wolves. Sigmund escaped and dwelt in the wood. Signy, desiring to avenge the slaughter of her kin, sent her sons to Sigmund to be tested as to their fitness for the task. But he, finding them unfit, slew them. Then Signy put a witch to sleep with her husband and in disguise went to Sigmund's house and asked for shelter. Sigmund saw she was fair and he kept her three nights. Then she went to her home. And she bore another son, whom she called Sinfjotli. And when he was grown she sent him to his father, Sigmund.

In time, Sigmund and Sinfjotli slew Siggeir, and Signy, having revealed the fact that Sinfjotli was a full-blooded Volsung, died with her husband. Sigmund now married Borghild, who hated Sinfjotli and poisoned him. Sigmund divorced her and married again, his second wife being Hjordis, who had rejected Hunding, the son of Lygni. Hunding came with his followers and fought Sigmund, whose sword was broken in the battle by the spear of an old, one-eyed man, wrapped in a mantle. Dying, Sigmund gave the pieces of the broken sword to Hjordis to keep for her son, who was to be the greatest of the Volsungs. Hjordis went to the Court of the King of Denmark and bore the son, who was called Sigurd. Alf, the son of the Danish King, wedded Hjordis, and Sigurd grew up at the Court. His foster-father and instructor was Regin, a famous smith, a man of wisdom. Regin saw that Sigurd would be a hero, and hoped to make use of him. Sigurd was sent to the woods to choose himself a horse, and on the way he met an old man with one eye, who bade him drive the horses into the water. One swam across the river and that one the old man told Sigurd to choose. This horse's name was Grani, and it was of the strain of Odin's stable. Now Regin told Sigurd of a dragon, Fafnir, which lay guarding a mighty store of gold, and he urged Sigurd to slay this dragon and get the hoard. And Regin told Sigurd the story of the gold.

One Hreidmar had three sons—Fafnir, Otter, and Regin. Otter was so called because he was wont to take the form of an otter and go into the lake called Andvari's Lake to catch fish. One day Odin, Hönir, and Loki, three of the gods, came to the lake, and Loki threw a stone at the otter and slew it. They took off the skin and went to the house of Hreidmar, who recognised the skin and bade them pay him a ransom of so much gold as should cover the skin as it stood upright. Now Loki knew that Andvari had a great store of gold, and, going back to the lake, he caught Andvari, who was swimming in the guise of a pike, and refused to release him unless he gave up all his gold and also the ring by whose magic power the gold was obtained. And in his wrath Andvari cursed the gold and the ring and declared that they should be the bane of every man who should thereafter own them. Loki and the gods strove to cover the otter skin with the gold, but Hreidmar still saw one muzzle-hair of the otter, and they were obliged to add also the ring to hide this. Then Loki said to Hreidmar:

"Thereafter," continued Regin, "Fafnir slew his father and murdered him, nor got I aught of the treasure, and so evil he grew that he fell to lying abroad and begrudged any share in the wealth to any man, and so became the worst of all worms, and ever now lies brooding upon that treasure." Sigurd bade Regin make him a sword with which to slay the dragon, but every one which the smith made the youth broke across the anvil. Then Sigurd bade him weld the shards of the sword Gram, which had belonged to Sigmund. And when these were welded Sigurd smote the anvil with the new blade and clove it in twain.

Then Sigurd went to fight the sons of Hunding and slew them to avenge his father's death. Next he went in accordance with his promise to Regin and slew Fafnir, the dragon. And Fafnir told him that the treasure which he would gain would be his bane. At the desire of Regin he roasted the dragon's heart, and in preparing it he wet his finger with the blood and cleansed it with his tongue. Immediately he understood the language of the birds and heard the woodpeckers chattering to the effect that he should slay the treacherous Regin, who desired his death, should secure the gold for himself and ride to Hindfell, where slept Brynhild, for there he would get great wisdom. Sigurd slew Regin and rode off in search of Brynhild, who lay in a castle on a mountain surrounded by fire. Sigurd rode to her through the fire. He took off her helm and cut the byrny (breast-plate) from her with his sword. And she awoke and asked the name of her awakener. And when she had learned it she sang:

She told Sigurd how she had struck down in battle Helm Gunnar, whom Odin had selected to be victorious. "And Odin, in vengeance for that deed, stuck the sleep-thorn into me and said I should never again have the victory, but should be given away in marriage; but thereagainst I vowed a vow that never would I wed one who knew the name of fear." Then she taught him all her runes, and they two plighted their troth. He went his way, but they met again and renewed their vows and he gave her a ring, the ring of Andvari. Before he departed again she prophesied that he would wed Gudrun, the daughter of King Giuki.

Giuki ruled south of the Rhine. He had three sons, Gunnar (Gunther), Högni (Hagen) and Guttorm, and one daughter, Gudrun. His wife was Grimhild, skilled in magic arts. Sigurd went to their court and stayed five seasons, and Grimhild perceived how dearly Sigurd loved Brynhild, for he spoke much of her, and she also saw that he was a goodly man and she wished to have him wed Gudrun. So she mixed him a drink which caused him to forget Brynhild and he began to love Gudrun. He married her and swore the oath of brotherhood with Gunnar and Högni. Brynhild was well known to all these persons, and one day Grimhild, seeing that Gunnar was still unwed, urged him to go to court Brynhild, and take Sigurd with him. Gunnar's horse, however, would not go through the fire. Then he mounted Grani, but he would not stir. So he and Sigurd changed shapes after a manner taught them by Grimhild, and Sigurd in the guise of Gunnar rode through the flames and, reminding Brynhild that she had sworn to wed no one except him who pierced the fire, claimed her as his bride, and she, being bound by the oath, yielded. He took the ring of Andvari and her girdle from her, and rode away. And she went to Gunnar's home and was married to him. Sigurd gave the ring and the girdle to his wife Gudrun, and when, some time afterward, the two women fell into a dispute as to which one's husband was the greater, Gudrun declared that it was her own husband, Sigurd, who had overcome Brynhild on the mountain and made her wed Gunnar. And in proof of her words she showed the ring which Sigurd had taken from Brynhild's finger and given to her. Brynhild was now eager for revenge, and conspired with Gunnar and Högni to put Sigurd to death. But they had sworn brotherhood, and so Guttorm, the youngest brother, who had not sworn, was chosen; and he slew Sigurd as he lay asleep in his bed. And Brynhild, aweary of life and the deceits of it, loving no man but Sigurd, drove a sword into her bosom, and, dying, asked Gunnar to burn her body with Sigurd's. And it was so done.

Such is the story of the Volsunga Saga as far as it concerns the incidents of "Der Ring des Nibelungen." In the remaining part of it is told how Gudrun became the wife of Atli (Attila) and how he schemed to get possession of the treasure which Sigurd had taken from Fafnir. But Gunnar and Högni sank the gold in the Rhine, and thus it disappeared. Atli slew them, but they had not revealed its hiding-place. I have rehearsed the tale of the Volsungs at more length than that of the "Nibelungen Lied" because from it Wagner obtained much more of his material. It now becomes necessary to review the mythological elements of the dramas taken from the Eddas and connected by Wagner with this story from mere hints in the original. When that is done, we shall be ready to survey the dramas in their entirety and see what use Wagner made of his materials.

The injection into the northern legends of the gods and goddesses of Scandinavian mythology and of the stories of the sins of Wotan and the certainty of future destruction of the gods furnished Wagner with the material for all the early portion of his mighty drama. It provided him with the ethical basis which makes Wotan the real hero of a tragedy, to end in the extinction not only of himself and his associate gods, but of the entire old order of the world, and the establishment of a new one. This last idea is found in the songs of the Elder Edda, "Odin's Raven Song," and "Song of the Way Tamer." These relate to the death of Baldur, the favourite son of Odin, and are dark with the mystery of an unknown terror. The gods are disturbed to the depths of their beings, and Odin mounts his steed and rides to Hell to consult the Wala (Erda) and force from her by means of runes some information as to the death of his son. Compare this incident with the first scene of the third act of "Siegfried." Read the "Havamal," the High Song of Odin, which contains also the rune song and expounds the entire scheme of Norse ethics. As one of the commentators on it has well said, "It shows a worldly wisdom, experience, and sagacity to which modern life can add nothing." The power of runes is explained in this song. It was by runes that the wicked princesses of mediæval tales cast spells over their enemies, that sickness was healed, that flying spears were checked in battle, that ships conquered the storms of Old Ocean. Yet these runes were nothing but letters of the alphabet, and their mysterious power was that of knowledge, denied to many in those dark times and seemingly magical in its use by the few.

Wotan	Kindermann.
Donner	Heinrich.
Froh	Nachbaur.
Loge	Vogl.
Alberich	Fischer.
Mime	Schlosser.
Fasolt	Polzer.
Fafner	Bausewein.
Fricka	Fräulein Stehle.
Freia	Fräulein Müller.
Erda	Fräulein Seehofer.
Woglinde
Wellgunde	Frau Vogel.
Flosshilde	Fräulein Ritter.

Wotan	Franz Betz.
Donner	Eugen Gura.
Froh	Georg Unger.
Loge	Heinrich Vogel.
Alberich	Carl Hill.
Mime	Carl Schlosser.
Fasolt	Albert Eilers.
Fafner	Franz von Reichenberg.
Fricka	Friedericke Grün.
Freia	Marie Haupt.
Erda	Luise Jäide.
Woglinde	Lilli Lehmann.
Wellgunde	Marie Lehmann.
Flosshilde	Marie Lammert.

Wotan	Emil Fischer.
Donner	Alois Grienauer.
Froh	Albert Mittelhauser.
Loge	Max Alvary.
Alberich	Joseph Beck.
Mime	Wilhelm Sedlmayer.
Fasolt	Ludwig Mödlinger.
Fafner	Eugen Weiss.
Fricka	Fanny Moran-Olden.
Freia	Katti Bettaque.
Erda	Hedwig Reil.
Woglinde	Sophie Traubmann.
Wellgunde	Felice Koschoska.
Flosshilde	Hedwig Reil.

Siegmund	Vogl.
Hunding	Bausewein.
Wotan	Kindermann.
Sieglinde	Frau Vogl.
Brünnhilde	Fräulein Stehle.
Fricka	Fräulein Kaufmann.

Siegmund	Albert Niemann.
Hunding	Joseph Niering.
Wotan	Franz Betz.
Sieglinde	Josephine Scheffsky.
Fricka	Friedericke Grün.
Brünnhilde	Amalia Friedrich-Materna.
Gerhilde	Marie Haupt.
Ortlinde	Marie Lehmann.
Waltraute	Luise Jäide.
Schwertleite	Johanna Jachmann-Wagner.
Helmwige	Lilli Lehmann.
Siegrune	Antoinie Amann.
Grimgerde	Hedwig Reicher-Kindermann.
Rossweisse	Minna Lammert.

Siegmund	Mr. Bischoff.
Hunding	Mr. Blum.
Wotan	Mr. Preusser.
Sieglinde	Mlle. Canissa.
Fricka	Mme. Listner.
Brünnhilde	Mme. Pappenheim.

The Wanderer	Franz Betz.
Siegfried	George Unger.
Alberich	Carl Hill.
Mime	Carl Schlosser.
Fafner	Franz von Reichenberg.
Brünnhilde	Amalia Friedrich-Materna.
Erda	Luise Jäide.
Forest Bird	Lilli Lehmann.

Wanderer	Emil Fischer.
Siegfried	Max Alvary.
Alberich	Rudolph von Milde.
Mime	Herr Ferency.
Fafner	Johannes Elmblad.
Brünnhilde	Lilli Lehmann.
Erda	Marianne Brandt.
Forest Bird	Auguste Seidl-Kraus.

Siegfried		George Unger.
Gunther		Eugen Gura.
Hagen		Gustav Siehr.
Alberich		Carl Hill.
Brünnhilde		Amalia Friedrich-Materna.
Gutrune		Mathilde Weckerlin.
Waltraute		Luise Jäide.
The Three Norns	{	Johanna Jachmann-Wagner.
	{	Josephine Scheffsky.
	{	Friedericke Grün.

The Rheindaughters	{	Lilli Lehmann.
	{	Marie Lehmann.
	{	Minna Lammer.