100 Great Operas and Their Stories: Act-By-Act Synopses (55 page)

Almost at once the gods start growing paler and paler: it is the result of Freia’s absence, Loge explains: without the golden apples that she gives them their eternal youth is leaving them. Now desperate, Wotan makes up his mind to go to Nibelheim, where Alberich dwells, and somehow secure the gold. With ironic asides Loge shows him the way, and Wotan follows down the side of the cliff as mist again rises from the depths of the valley to cover the change of scene.

Scene 3
With the power of the Ring, Alberich has made himself absolute dictator of the Nibelungs, a race of dwarfs that lives in the depths of the mountains. In cold, cavernous Nibelheim, Alberich is driving the other gnomes to dig more gold for him and to fashion whatever objects he wants. His brother Mime has just finished a special assignment—the manufacture of a cap of golden network which makes its wearer invisible. It is called the Tarnhelm, and Alberich snatches it from his snarling brother, places it on his head, and disappears at once, a column of steam showing where he had been. From his hiding place he continues to taunt and torture his slaving brethren.

Wotan and Loge descend into this sweatshop and are told ruefully by Mime, an old acquaintance of Loge’s, how Alberich’s recently won ascendancy has transformed what was once a rather jolly place into its present wretched state. He also tells them about the Tarnhelm, and of how he had hoped to keep it for himself. But Alberich, now in visible shape and wearing the Tarnhelm hanging from his belt, drives a band of workers cruelly before him and chases Mime out with them. He then turns to his distinguished guests and boasts of his power, even threatening that he plans to put an end to the present regime of gods.

Wotan is disgusted, but the wily Loge plays upon the dwarf’s vanity. He flatters Alberich with wonder over what he
says he is able to perform, and, to show the power of the Tarnhelm, Alberich transforms himself into a writhing reptile, then back again into his own shape in order to boast properly. But, asks Loge, apparently impressed, can he also change himself into something small—say, a toad? At once Alberich obliges; at once the gods seize the little animal; and Loge tears off the Tarnhelm. Together, they bind up the now helpless dwarf and drag him, still struggling, out with them. Clouds and mist once more cover the stage.

Scene 4
It is still misty back on the mountain where the gods had last held conference. Loge and Wotan have Alberich captive and tell him he can have his freedom only at the expense of the entire hoard of gold. Using his Ring for commanding power, the dwarf summons the Nibelungs to bring up the hoard, which they do and at once depart, the curses of their master following them. Wotan, despite Alberich’s shrieks of rage, tears the Ring itself from his finger and puts it on his own. At last Alberich is released from his bonds. But before he goes, he utters a terrible curse upon the Ring: it will bring misery to its wearer, murder shall follow in its wake, and its lord shall be its slave unto the time that it is returned to Alberich himself. Before the tetralogy is over, the curse is often and bitterly fulfilled.

The misty stage now becomes somewhat clearer. But it is nearing nightfall, and all the gods reassemble while the giants bring back Freia. Fasolt so dotes on Freia that he would almost rather keep her than get all the gold; but he finally consents to carrying out the bargain if the gold can be piled so high that Freia is completely obscured by it. There is almost gold enough for this, but Fafner says that he still can see Freia’s hair, and Loge contributes the Tarnhelm to hide that. Still there remains a crevice through which Freia’s eyes can be seen, and Fafner insists on covering it up with the Ring on Wotan’s finger. At first the god refuses, but suddenly Erda, the earth goddess, rises through the ground. Solemnly she warns him to give up the Ring: it is the only way to avoid the curse of Alberich. Thus persuaded, Wotan throws the Ring on the pile, and the giants release Freia.

But as Fafner and Fasolt are dividing the spoils, an argument arises about who should have the Ring. Fafner, with a mighty blow, kills his brother, calmly packs up all the gold into a bag, and lumbers off, dragging the body after him. The motive of the curse rises ominously in the orchestra: murder has already accompanied the gold.

Donner now ascends a mountain; his hammer strokes and cries are heard; lightning flashes across the stage; the clouds disappear; and the new castle is seen in all its glory across the valley. A rainbow bridge crosses to the feet of the gods, and as the orchestra plays the piece known to concert-goers as
The Entry of the Gods into Valhalla
, the family of gods crosses the bridge to take up its new residence.

Only Loge remains behind. He has no illusions about Valhalla’s affording much security and decides to return to the ordinary world in his normal form, which is that of fire. From down below, where the Rhine flows, come the despairing but lovely cries of the Rhinemaidens, still lamenting the loss of their gold.

^*
Some opera houses divide this long work into two acts, granting an intermission between Scenes 2 and 3.

DIE WALKÜRE

(The Valkyrie)

Opera in three acts by Richard Wagner with
libretto in German by the composer

Time: mythological

Place: Germany

First performance at Munich, June 26, 1870

    Without being too specific about it, one must assume an interval of at least a quarter of a century between
Das Rheingold
and
Die Walküre
, during which Wotan has been populating the universe with illicit progeny. He has had a lengthy affair with the earth goddess, Erda, producing nine daughters who have grown up to be athletic equestriennes with enlisting commissions. They swoop down on battlefields to bring up to Valhalla recently deceased heroes who are to form a guard for
the fortress. These girls are known as the Valkyries, and one of them is the character referred to in the title of the opera. Wotan has also had an affair with an anonymous mortal woman, siring a son and daughter with whom he lived, under the name of Wolfe, until the girl was abducted. Their race is called the “Wälsungs.”

ACT I

Stormy weather is vividly painted in the opening measures of music; and as the curtain rises, an exhausted young warrior, fleeing from his enemies, finds shelter in a rude home built around a huge ash tree. He throws himself on the hearth, and here a young woman finds him, brings him drink, and comforts him. The tender love themes in the orchestra suggest the attraction these two feel for each other at once.

When the owner of the house, as rude and rough as his home, returns, he orders his wife to prepare the evening meal. His name is Hunding, and during the repast his unexpected guest tells something about himself. His name, he says, is Woeful
(Wehwalt)
, for his life has been full of woe. His sister has been stolen by enemies; his father, Wolfe, has disappeared during a battle; he has since been at odds with everyone. Hunding, meantime, has been struck by a marked resemblance between his wife and this “Woeful”; and, putting details of the narrative together, he realizes that his guest is one of the Wälsungs, who are mortal enemies. Gruffly he tells the man that he may have shelter for the night, but in the morning he must defend himself. As Hunding has weapons and Woeful does not, the result is foreordained: simple murder.

Hunding then orders his wife to prepare his nightly potion, and she takes the opportunity to put into it a sleeping draught. As she does so, she catches her guest’s eye and tries to get him to look at a particular spot in the ash tree; but before he can understand the message, Hunding notices the exchange of glances and orders her into the bedroom, where he shortly follows her.

Left alone by the hearth, the man’s thoughts are gloomy.
He longs for a sword to defend himself. His father had promised that one would appear in his hour of need; and just then the dying fire grows briefly brighter and lights up the spot on the tree the woman had looked at. There, buried deep in the ash, is the hilt of a sword. The orchestra sings out the triumphant Sword Motive, but it is not yet understood by the hero.

The woman now slips into the room and tells him about the sword. It had been put there by a stranger who appeared at her wedding, struck the sword into the tree, and said that it would belong to whoever could pull it out. Many warriors had tried and failed, but now she feels that one has come to take it. But as they speak of the sword, their passion for each other also grows. They are soon in each other’s arms; the door flies open revealing a beautiful spring night; and the hero sings of love and spring
(Winterstürme wichen dem Wonnemond
—“Winter storms have waned in the winsome moon”). She replies in equally passionate accents
(Du bist der Lenz
—“Thou art the spring”). And suddenly they know who they are: both are children of the stranger who brought the sword—Wolfe, the Wälsung. Let his name no longer be Woeful but Siegmund, as hers, indeed, is Sieglinde.

Now Siegmund rouses himself, seizes the hilt of the sword, and pulls it forth triumphantly, naming it Nothung (“Needful”). Together, they flee into the beautiful spring night.

ACT II

Siegmund and Sieglinde have been fleeing for some time, but Hunding is on their trail, and Wotan (no longer Wolfe) is at a wild, rocky passage, where he expects the battle to be joined. With him is his favorite Valkyrie, Brünnhilde, whom he instructs to favor the Wälsung. The warrior maiden is delighted and, springing from rock to rock (at least, that is what the stage directions demand), utters her famous battle cry: “Ho-yo-to-ho!” But her high spirits are somewhat dampened when she sees Fricka, her father’s wife, coming up the mountainside in no amiable mood, and she leaves her elders to have it out.

Hunding, it seems, has come to Fricka for help, and there is no question that she holds all the moral trump cards in the game that is now played. Wotan has rigged the whole sorry situation; he is trying to fool himself if he thinks this is the way to get a hero to solve the difficulty with the lost Ring; the two miserable wretches, Siegmund and Sieglinde, are no better than a pair of incestuous adulterers; and not only will she have nothing to do with them, but she insists that Siegmund be given no supernatural help—either from Brünnhilde’s interference or from that magic sword he has. Wotan tries to stand on his dignity and to rationalize all his questionable actions; but he has to recognize that Fricka is unanswerably right in everything she says. Dejectedly he agrees to all Fricka’s demands, and she has her brief moment of triumph as she meets the returning Brünnhilde and tells her to ask her honored father who is to win the battle now.

There now ensues a very long scene in which Wotan tells his beloved daughter practically all that has happened in
Das Rheingold
and then goes on still further about Alberich and Fafner. Fafner he cannot attack himself because of his treaty, and his only hope was to raise a hero who could. Now that, it seems, is to be denied him. And as for Alberich—Erda has told him that any son of the dwarf’s is destined to destroy the gods. Worst of all, Alberich has, despite forswearing love, impregnated a mortal woman and “grim envy’s son now stirs in her womb.” Nevertheless, Brünnhilde must see to it that Hunding defeats Wotan’s own son, Siegmund. But she flatly refuses, for Wotan himself, she says, has taught her to love Siegmund. Once more he insists that she obey his command; and then he rushes off into the mountains, while Brünnhilde, with heavy heart, picks up the spear and shield she had laid aside and wanders slowly off.

For a few moments the stage is empty, but the orchestra assures us that someone is hurrying toward the rocky crag. It is Siegmund and Sieglinde, the latter exhausted by flight and sorely troubled in her conscience. She loves Siegmund deeply, but she fears she has done wrong, and she wildly dreads the coming battle. Finally, she falls asleep, her head on her
brother’s knee, and Siegmund bends silently over her and kisses her brow.

Suddenly Brünnhilde stands before him. Solemnly she tells him that he is about to die, that she has come to take him to Valhalla to join the other heroes there. Even his magical sword shall not save him, for its power has been withdrawn. All this he receives with dignified tranquillity; but when he learns that Sieglinde may not be with him, that she must remain on earth to bear his child, which she is already carrying, he bursts out wrathfully. He rejects Valhalla and says he would rather go to the lower regions than be parted from Sieglinde. He even raises his sword to kill the sleeping woman so that they may remain together. This gesture makes Brünnhilde change her mind. She now promises to shield him in battle, and she rides off swiftly.