"Guest," she urges, little knowing the suspicions her husband harbours, "gladly would I know whence you come."

Slowly, as if oppressed by heavy memories, he begins his story, carefully, however, continuing to conceal his name, since for all he knows, _Hunding_ may be one of the enemies of his race. Amid incredible hardships, surrounded by enemies against whom he and his kin constantly were obliged to defend themselves, he grew up in the forest. He and his father returned from one of their hunts to find the hut in ashes, his mother a corpse, and no trace of his twin sister. In one of the combats with their foes he became separated from his father.

At this point you hear the Walhalla Motive, for _Siegmund's_ father was none other than _Wotan_, known to his human descendants, however, only as Walse. In _Wotan's_ narrative in the next act it will be discovered that _Wotan_ purposely created these misfortunes for _Siegmund_, in order to strengthen him for his task.

Continuing his narrative _Siegmund_ says that, since losing track of his father, he has wandered from place to place, ever with misfortune in his wake. That very day he has defended a maid whom her brothers wished to force into marriage. But when, in the combat that ensued, he had slain her brothers, she turned upon him and denounced him as a murderer, while the kinsmen of the slain, summoned to vengeance, attacked him from all quarters. He fought until shield and sword were shattered, then fled to find chance shelter in _Hunding's_ dwelling.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Photo by White

Fremstad as Brunnhilde in "Die Walkure"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: Copyright photo by Dupont

Fremstad as Sieglinde in "Die Walkure"]

The story of _Siegmund_ is told in melodious recitative. It is not a melody in the old-fashioned meaning of the term, but it fairly teems with melodiousness. It will have been observed that incidents very different in kind are related by _Siegmund_. It would be impossible to treat this narrative with sufficient variety of expression in a melody. But in Wagner's melodious recitative the musical phrases reflect every incident narrated by _Siegmund_. For instance, when _Siegmund_ tells how he went hunting with his father there is joyous freshness and abandon in the music, which, however, suddenly sinks to sadness as he narrates how they returned and found the Walsung dwelling devastated by enemies. We hear also the Hunding Motive at this point, which thus indicates that whose who brought this misfortune upon the Walsungs were none other than _Hunding_ and his kinsmen. As _Siegmund_ tells how, when he was separated from his father, he sought to mingle with men and women, you hear the Love Motive, while his description of his latest combat is accompanied by the rhythm of the Hunding Motive. Those whom _Siegmund_ slew were _Hunding's_ kinsmen. Thus _Siegmund's_ dark fate has driven him to seek shelter in the house of the very man who is the arch-enemy of his race and is bound by the laws of kinship to avenge on _Siegmund_ the death of kinsmen.

As _Siegmund_ concludes his narrative the Walsung Motive is heard.

Gazing with ardent longing toward _Sieglinde_, he says:

Now know'st thou, questioning wife, Why "Peaceful" is not my name.

These words are sung to a lovely phrase. Then, as _Siegmund_ rises and strides over to the hearth, while _Sieglinde_, pale and deeply affected by his tale, bows her head, there is heard on the horns, ba.s.soons, violas, and 'cellos a motive expressive of the heroic fort.i.tude of the Walsungs in struggling against their fate. It is the =Motive of the Walsungs' Heroism=, a motive steeped in the tragedy of futile struggle against destiny.

[Music]

The sombre visage at the head of the table has grown even darker and more threatening. _Hunding_ arises. "I know a ruthless race to whom nothing is sacred, and hated of all," he says. "Mine were the kinsmen you slew. I, too, was summoned from my home to take blood vengeance upon the slayer. Returning, I find him here. You have been offered shelter for the night, and for the night you are safe. But tomorrow be prepared to defend yourself."

Alone, unarmed, and in the house of his enemy! And yet the same roof harbours a friend--the woman. What strange affinity has brought them together under the eye of the pitiless savage with whom she has been forced into marriage? The embers on the hearth collapse. The glow that for a moment pervades the room seems to his excited senses a reflection from the eyes of the woman to whom he has been so unaccountably yet so strongly drawn. Even the spot on the old ash-tree, where he saw her glance linger before she left the room, seems to have caught its sheen. Then the embers die out. All grows dark.

The scene is eloquently set to music. _Siegmund's_ gloomy thoughts are accompanied by the threatening rhythm of the Hunding Motive and the Sword Motive in a minor key, for _Siegmund_ is still weaponless.

A sword my father did promise....

Walse! Walse! Where is thy sword!

The Sword Motive rings out like a shout of triumph. As the embers of the fire collapse, there is seen in the glare, that for a moment falls upon the ash-tree, the hilt of a sword whose blade is buried in the trunk of the tree at the point upon which _Sieglinde's_ look last rested. While the Motive of the Sword gently rises and falls, like the coming and going of a lovely memory, _Siegmund_ apostrophizes the sheen as the reflection of _Sieglinde's_ glance. And although the embers die out, and night falls upon the scene, in _Siegmund's_ thoughts the memory of that pitying, loving look glimmers on.

Is it his excited fancy that makes him hear the door of the inner chamber softly open and light footsteps coming in his direction? No; for he becomes conscious of a form, her form, dimly limned upon the darkness. He springs to his feet. _Sieglinde_ is by his side. She has given _Hunding_ a sleeping-potion. She will point out a weapon to _Siegmund_--a sword. If he can wield it she will call him the greatest hero, for only the mightiest can wield it. The music quickens with the subdued excitement in the b.r.e.a.s.t.s of the two Walsungs. You hear the Sword Motive and above it, on horns, clarinet, and oboe, a new motive--that of the =Walsungs' Call to Victory=:

[Music]

for _Sieglinde_ hopes that with the sword the stranger, who has awakened so quickly love in her breast, will overcome _Hunding_. This motive has a resistless, onward sweep. _Sieglinde_, amid the strains of the stately Walhalla Motive, followed by the Sword Motive, narrates the story of the sword. While _Hunding_ and his kinsmen were feasting in honour of her forced marriage with him, an aged stranger entered the hall. The men knew him not and shrank from his fiery glance. But upon her his look rested with tender compa.s.sion. With a mighty thrust he buried a sword up to its hilt in the trunk of the ash-tree. Whoever drew it from its sheath to him it should belong. The stranger went his way. One after another the strong men tugged at the hilt--but in vain.

Then she knew who the aged stranger was and for whom the sword was destined.

The Sword Motive rings out like a joyous shout, and _Sieglinde's_ voice mingles with the triumphant notes of the Walsungs' Call to Victory as she turns to _Siegmund_:

O, found I in thee The friend in need!

The Motive of the Walsungs' heroism, now no longer full of tragic import, but forceful and defiant--and _Siegmund_ holds _Sieglinde_ in his embrace.

There is a rush of wind. The woven hangings flap and fall. As the lovers turn, a glorious sight greets their eyes. The landscape is illumined by the moon. Its silver sheen flows down the hills and quivers along the meadows whose gra.s.ses tremble in the breeze. All nature seems to be throbbing in unison with the hearts of the lovers, and, turning to the woman, _Siegmund_ greets her with the =Love Song=:

[Music]

The Love Motive, impa.s.sioned, irresistible, sweeps through the harmonies--and Love and Spring are united. The Love Motive also pulsates through _Sieglinde's_ ecstatic reply after she has given herself fully up to _Siegmund_ in the Flight Motive--for before his coming her woes have fled as winter flies before the coming of spring.

With _Siegmund's_ exclamation:

Oh, wondrous vision!

Rapturous woman!

there rises from the orchestra like a vision of loveliness the Motive of Freia, the Venus of German mythology. In its embrace it folds this pulsating theme:

[Music]

It throbs on like a love-kiss until it seemingly yields to the blandishments of this caressing phrase:

[Music]

This throbbing, pulsating, caressing music is succeeded by a moment of repose. The woman again gazes searchingly into the man's features. She has seen his face before. When? Now she remembers. It is when she has seen her own reflection in a brook! And his voice? It seems to her like an echo of her own. And his glance; has it never before rested on her? She is sure it has, and she will tell him when.

She repeats how, while _Hunding_ and his kinsmen were feasting at her marriage, an aged man entered the hall and, drawing a sword, thrust it to the hilt in the ash-tree. The first to draw it out, to him it should belong. One after another the men strove to loosen the sword, but in vain. Once the aged man's glance rested on her and shone with the same light as now shines in his who has come to her through night and storm. He who thrust the sword into the tree was of her own race, the Walsungs. Who is he?

"I, too, have seen that light, but in your eyes!" exclaimed the fugitive. "I, too, am of your race. I, too, am a Walsung, my father none other than Walse himself."

"Was Walse your father?" she cries ecstatically. "For you, then, this sword was thrust in the tree! Let me name you, as I recall you from far back in my childhood, _Siegmund_--_Siegmund_--_Siegmund_!"

"Yes, I am _Siegmund_; and you, too, I now know well. You are _Sieglinde_. Fate has willed that we two of our unhappy race, shall meet again and save each other or perish together."

Then, leaping upon the table, he grasps the sword-hilt which protrudes from the trunk of the ash-tree where he has seen that strange glow in the light of the dying embers. A mighty tug, and he draws it from the tree as a blade from its scabbard. Brandishing it in triumph, he leaps to the floor and, clasping _Sieglinde_, rushes forth with her into the night.

And the music? It fairly seethes with excitement. As _Siegmund_ leaps upon the table, the Motive of the Walsungs' Heroism rings out as if in defiance of the enemies of the race. The Sword Motive--and he has grasped the hilt; the Motive of Compact, ominous of the fatality which hangs over the Walsungs; the Motive of Renunciation, with its threatening import; then the Sword Motive--brilliant like the glitter of refulgent steel--and _Siegmund_ has unsheathed the sword. The Walsungs' Call to Victory, like a song of triumph; a superb upward sweep of the Sword Motive; the Love Motive, now rushing onward in the very ecstasy of pa.s.sion, and _Siegmund_ holds in his embrace _Sieglinde_, his bride--of the same doomed race as himself!

Act II. In the _Vorspiel_ the orchestra, with an upward rush of the Sword Motive, resolved into 9-8 time, the orchestra dashes into the Motive of Flight. The Sword Motive in this 9-8 rhythm closely resembles the Motive of the Valkyr's Ride, and the Flight Motive in the version in which it appears is much like the Valkyr's Shout. The Ride and the Shout are heard in the course of the _Vorspiel_, the former with tremendous force on trumpets and trombones as the curtain rises on a wild, rocky mountain pa.s.s, at the back of which, through a natural rock-formed arch, a gorge slopes downward.

In the foreground stands _Wotan_, armed with spear, shield, and helmet. Before him is _Brunnhilde_ in the superb costume of the Valkyr. The stormy spirit of the _Vorspiel_ pervades the music of _Wotan's_ command to _Brunnhilde_ that she bridle her steed for battle and spur it to the fray to do combat for _Siegmund_ against _Hunding_.

_Brunnhilde_ greets _Wotan's_ command with the weirdly joyous =Shout of the Valkyrs=

[Music: Hojotoho! Heiaha-ha.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: Photo by White

Weil as Wotan in "Die Walkure"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: Photo by Hall

"Die Walkure." Act III

Brunnhilde (Margaret Crawford)]