The complete idiot's guide to classical music (63 page)

The librettos, in other words, were written in inverse order, and all four were complete before a single note of music was put on paper. Taken together, said Wagner with his usual modesty, they formed “the greatest poem in the world.” This already herculean accomplishment behind him, Wagner began writing the music in 1853, this time tackling the operas in proper sequence.
Das Rheingold
was finished in mid-1854,
Die Walkure
in the spring of 1856. The next year saw the completion of the first act of
Siegfried
and part of the second, when inspirations called in other directions. “When will we see each other again?” was the pensive question Wagner penciled into the orchestra score at the point he left off.

For eight years, Wagner dealt with other musical matters, most notably
Tristan
and
Die Meistersinger
; then, as if he had never left it, he plunged back into the Ring.
Siegfried
was completed in February, 1871, and the last musical T of
Gotterdammerung
was crossed on November 21, 1874.

The story of the Rhinegold begins (where else?) at the bottom of the Rhine, where it is being guarded by three Rhine Maidens: Woglinde, Wellgunde, and (our dentist’s favorite) Flosshilde. When Alberich, a Niebelung (member of a race of dwarfs), emerges from his murky cavern, they decide to have some Rhinemaidenly fun with him, teasing and tormenting him, but ultimately letting slip the fact that their gold can be fashioned into a ring that grants its bearer ultimate power, provided he renounces love. Alberich, only too happy with such a bargain, curses love, seizes the ring, and heads off to rule the world.

Meanwhile, back on land, the giants Fafner and Fasolt have finished building Valhalla, the magnificent new castle-home of Wotan, king of the gods, his wife Fricka, and their immortal courtiers. Wotan may rule the gods, but he has all too human frailties. He had promised the giants that their builders’ fee would be Freia, goddess of beauty and youth, but true to character (or lack of it) he reneges. The giants are none too pleased, as you might imagine, but the resulting row is interrupted by the arrival of Loge, the god of fire, who brings news of Alberich’s theft of the gold and the immense wealth and power he has thus acquired. Forget Freia!

Now the giants decide that the Rheingold would be a better reward anyway, and Wotan goes with Loge to Niebelheim (the land of the Niebelungs). You really don’t want to know all the gory details. Suffice it to say that Wotan and Loge trick Alberich into giving up the gold, and the ring he has forged from it, so Alberich puts a terrible curse on the ring, crying that it will bring misfortune on anyone who takes possession of it. No sooner does Wotan entrust the ring to the giants than they quarrel, and Fafner kills Fasolt. The malediction has begun to work.

Meanwhile, Wotan is getting edgy about not moving into his new home, and annoyed that Valhalla is surrounded by a fearful mist. To the rescue comes Donner, the god of thunder, who sets a great storm crashing; in its wake, the clouds are dispelled and the castle stands glistening in the late afternoon sunshine. A huge rainbow bridge stretches out to it, and ignoring the wails of the Rhine maidens below, the gods proceed on their impressive journey home.

Since the events described in
Das Rheingold,
Wotan has been busy, fathering nine warrior maidens called Valkyries (he’s married to Fricka, but the Valkyries’ mother is Erda—don’t ask.) He also has sired brother and sister twins, Siegmund and Sieglinde, with an earth woman. The idea is that the Valkyries can bring fallen heroes back to Valhalla to form an army for the gods’ defense, while the earthly offspring can use various means to salve Wotan’s conscience not available to the god himself. Well, it’s as a good an excuse as any.

The opera opens with a wounded Siegmund, pursued by enemies, seeking shelter in a forest hut belonging to Hunding and his wife Sieglinde. Siegmund and Sieglinde are immediately drawn to each other (without realizing their relationship, since the twins had been separated at birth). When Hunding comes home and learns that Siegmund is an enemy of his clan, he tells the visitor that he will obey the rules of hospitality and provide him with shelter for the night. Mortal combat, however, must follow on the morrow.

Sieglinde doesn’t like that idea at all, so first of all she puts a sleeping potion in her husband’s drink. Then she shows Siegmund a sword that a mysterious traveler (Wotan in disguise, if you must know) had embedded so deeply within the trunk of an ash tree that

only the greatest and strongest of warriors could pull it out. With a mighty effort, Siegmund lifts the sword from its resting place, naming it “Nothung” (born of necessity). Further discussions, not to mention passionate declarations of love, finally reveal that they are indeed brother and sister, but nothing can dampen their ardor now, and they run off together into the night.

 
Bet You Didn’t Know
Singing a long and demanding Wagnerian role is a test of stamina for any artist, and the intense concentration involved sometimes has to find a release. When the manager of the Met came to Maria Jeritza’s dressing room in between acts of a
Die Walkure
performance (she was the Sieglinde that night), he found the great soprano, still in full costume and makeup, turning somersaults.

When Hunding wakes up, minus sword and wife, he begins to smell a rat, and sets off in hot pursuit of the lovers. Back in Valhalla, meanwhile, Wotan commands Brunnhilde, the most beloved of his Valkyrie daughters, to defend Siegmund against the vengeful Hunding. Unfortunately Fricka, goddess of marriage (not that her own union with Wotan is going any too smoothly), will have none of this incestuous adultery, and demands that Siegmund be killed instead. Wotan, it turns out, can stand up to anything but his wife, so he reluctantly gives in, and changes his instructions to Brunnhilde. The Valkyrie tells Siegmund of his impending fate, inviting him to join the other heros in the palace guard at Valhalla, but he declares that, rather than abandon Sieglinde, he is ready to kill both himself and her. Deeply moved, Brunnhilde resolves to protect them both.

As the duel begins, Brunnhilde uses her shield to safeguard Siegmund, but suddenly Wotan appears, his spear shattering Siegmund’s sword. Hunding kills the now-defenseless Siegmund, and Wotan takes his own revenge by striking down Hunding. In all the tumult, Brunnhilde sweeps up the pieces of the sword and helps Sieglinde to escape. She will give birth to a great hero, Brunnhilde tells her, who will be named Siegfried, and will one day re-forge Nothung into a sword of universal victory.

Wotan is furious as only a thwarted god (and disobeyed father) can be. He pronounces his punishment: Brunnhilde will lose her immortal Valkyrie status, and go into a deep sleep until a man shall find her and take her as his wife. Her sundry requests for mercy falling on deaf ears, Brunnhilde finally begs her father at least to set up some sort of protective device, so that only a true hero would be able to reach her. To this Wotan agrees. He covers Brunnhilde with his shield, then summons Loge (remember Loge?) ordering the god of fire to surround the sleeping Valkyrie-that-was with a magic circle of fire that only

a fearless hero can penetrate. With a last look back at his wayward offspring, Wotan disappears beyond the flames.

 
Bet You Didn’t Know
Another famous Wagnerian soprano, Olive Fremstad, was reclining on her rock, when she realized that the “magic fire” was not coming from the planned burst of steam jets, but was actually spurting out with some kind of vile-smelling smoke. She stayed quietly as long as she could, but then called out to the stagehands, her powerful voice reaching half the house as well, “If you don’t shut off this stink, I’m leaving right now!” They did, she didn’t, and the opera ended right on schedule.

Once again, a lot has happened between operas, and by the time the third section of the Ring opens, Sieglinde has died giving birth to Siegfried. He has been raised by Mime (pronounced Mee-meh), another Niebelung—Alberich’s brother, as a matter of fact—who can’t wait for the child to grow up big and strong enough to kill Fafner, the giant who now has the Ring. The sneaky Mime plans then to do away with Siegfried, and keep the treasure for himself.

Knowing that Siegfried will need a powerful weapon, Mime has been trying to reforge Nothung from the fragments Sieglinde left behind. Nothung doing. He can only come up with inferior copies, that the already strong Siegfried breaks like so many matchsticks. While Siegfried is out, the Wanderer enters. He looks a lot like Wotan, but what does Mime know? They trade riddles, then the Wanderer leaves with the prophecy that only he who knows no fear can re-forge the sword, and the dire warning that Mime will die at the hands of that fearless mortal.

When Siegfried reappears, Mime tries to forestall Wotan’s prophecy by frightening the warrior with terrifying stories of the dragon (i.e. Fafner) who guards the treasure. Siegfried pays him no heed, and reforges the enchanted sword himself, while Mime cooks up a poison potion for use on Siegfried once the dragon is dead.

Outside Fafner’s cave, Mime’s brother Alberich is keeping an anxious watch when the Wanderer arrives. A little smarter than his sibling, Alberich recognizes Wotan, and boasts how in short order, the dragon will be slain and the treasure his. Wotan, in turn, predicts that Mime will try to use the strength of a young hero to get the treasure for himself. As morning dawns, Siegfried listens with wonder to the forest rustlings and the songs of birds. But then it’s on to business.

He sounds a horn call to waken Fafner, they fight, and the dragon is slain. While withdrawing his sword, though, Siegfried is splashed with some of the dragon’s blood. Suddenly, he can understand the language of the forest bird, which first alerts him to tje Ring and other treasures hidden in the cave, and then warns him of Mime’s impending treachery. Forewarned, and forearmed (with Nothung), Siegfried dispatches Mime in short order, and sits down to see if the little birdie has any more information for him. She has. This time, she tells him about the beautiful Brunnhilde, and even leads him to the rock where the maiden is sleeping within a circle of fire.

At the foot of the mountain, Wotan summons the earth goddess, Erda, who fairly put out at being wakened from a happy sleep, offers a veiled prophecy that the gods will die, the ring will be returned to the Rhine maidens, and the world will be freed from Alberich’s curse. At this point, you can either go home, since you know how the story will come out, or stick around for the rest of this opera and all of the next.

Assuming you’re still with us, we can wrap up the third Ring story fairly quickly. When Siegfried appears, Wotan attempts to bar his way, but Siegfried shatters his spear with his sword (even as Wotan had shattered Siegmund’s sword with his spear back in opera number two), and the king of the gods slinks off, hoping to rebuild his shattered spear and thereby regain his powers. As the fearless Siegfried reaches the summit of the mountain, he passes unharmed through the ring of fire, and as the flames die away, he awakens Brunnhilde with a kiss. After the obligatory love duet, they embrace passionately as the curtain falls.

It is dawn of the next day. Three Norns (fates) are weaving the rope of destiny, when suddenly the thread tears. The end of the gods is imminent. Brunnhilde and Siegfried enter singing of their love, but also of separation, since the hero must go forth in search of further adventures. They trade gifts (he gives her the Ring, she gives him her horse, which had been sleeping on the same rock all those years, and is presumably well rested by now). He sets off for the kingdom of the Gibichungs. Not that he’s the jealous type or anything, but he leaves Brunnhilde behind the same old circle of fire, knowing that no other man can reach her until he returns.