Chapter XVIII: Act III: The wedding festivities are described in the brilliant

"Introduction to Act III." This is followed in the opera by the "Bridal Chorus," which, wherever heard--on stage or in church--falls with renewed freshness and significance upon the ear. In this scene the Knight and _Elsa_ are conducted to the bridal chamber in the castle. From the right enter _Elsa's_ ladies-in-waiting leading the bride; from the left the _King_ and nobles leading the Knight. Preceding both trains are pages bearing lights; and voices chant the bridal chorus. The _King_ ceremoniously embraces the couple and then the procession makes its way out, until, as the last strains of the chorus die away, _Elsa_ and her champion are for the first time alone.

It should be a moment of supreme happiness for both, and indeed, _Elsa_ exclaims as her bridegroom takes her to his arms, that words cannot give expression to all its hidden sweetness. Yet, when he tenderly breathes her name, it serves only to remind her that she cannot respond by uttering his. "How sweetly sounds my name when spoken by you, while I, alas, cannot reply with yours. Surely, some day, you will tell me, all in secret, and I shall be able to whisper it when none but you is near!"

In her words the Knight perceives but too clearly the seeds of the fatal mistrust sown by _Ortrud_ and _Frederick_. Gently he leaves her side and throwing open the casement, points to the moonlit landscape where the river winds its course along the plain. The same subtle magic that can conjure up this scene from the night has brought him to her, made him love her, and give unshrinking credence to her vow never to question his name or origin. Will she now wantonly destroy the wondrous spell of moonlight and love?

But still _Elsa_ urges him. "Let me be flattered by your trust and confidence. Your secret will be safe in my heart. No threats, not even of death, shall tear it from my lips. Tell me who you are and whence you come!"

"Elsa!" he cries, "come to my heart. Let me feel that happiness is mine at last. Let your love and confidence compensate me for what I have left behind me. Cast dark suspicion aside. For know, I came not hither from night and grieving but from the abode of light and noble pleasures."

But his words have the very opposite effect of what he had hoped for. "Heaven help me!" exclaims _Elsa_. "What must I hear! Already you are beginning to look back with longing to the joys you have given up for me. Some day you will leave me to sorrow and regret. I have no magic spells wherewith to hold you. Ah!"--and now she cries out like one distracted and with eyes straining at distance--"See!--the swan!--I see him floating on the waters yonder! You summon him, embark!--Love--madness--whatever it may be--your name declare, your lineage and your home!"

Hardly have these mad words been spoken by her when, as she stands before her husband of a few hours, she sees something that with a sudden shock brings her to her senses. Rushing to the divan where the pages laid the Knight's sword, she seizes it and thrusts it into his hand, and he, turning to discover what peril threatens, sees _Frederick_, followed by four Brabantian nobles, burst into the room. With one stroke he lays the leader lifeless, and the others, seeing him fall, go down on their knees in token of submission. At a sign from the Knight they arise and, lifting _Frederick's_ body, bear it away. Then the Knight summons _Elsa's_ ladies-in-waiting and bids them prepare her in her richest garments to meet him before the _King_. "There I will make fitting answer to her questions, tell her my name, my rank, and whence I come."

Sadly he watches her being led away, while she, no longer the happy bride, but the picture of utter dejection, turns and raises her hands to him in supplication as though she would still implore him to undo the ruin her lack of faith in him has wrought.

Some of the most beautiful as well as some of the most dramatic music of the score occurs in these scenes.

The love duet is exquisite--one of the sweetest and tenderest passages of which the lyric stage can boast. A very beautiful musical episode is that in which the Knight, pointing through the open casement to the flowery close below, softly illumined by the moon, sings to an accompaniment of what might be called musical moonbeams, "Say, dost thou breathe the incense sweet of flowers?" But when, in spite of the tender warning which he conveys to her, she begins questioning him, he turns toward her and in a passionate musical phrase begs her to trust him and abide with him in loving faith. Her dread that the memory of the delightful place from which he has come will wean him from her; the wild vision in which she imagines she sees the swan approaching to bear him away from her, and when she puts to him the forbidden questions, are details expressed with wonderful vividness in the music.

After the attack by _Frederick_ and his death, there is a dramatic silence during which _Elsa_ sinks on her husband's breast and faints. When I say silence I do not mean that there is a total cessation of sound, for silence can be more impressively expressed in music than by actual silence itself. It is done by Wagner in this case by long drawn-out chords followed by faint taps on the tympani. When the Knight bends down to _Elsa_, raises her, and gently places her on a couch, echoes of the love duet add to the mournfulness of the music. The scene closes with the Motive of Warning, which resounds with dread meaning.

A quick change of scene should be made at this point in the performance of the opera, but as a rule the change takes so long that the third act is virtually given in two acts.

It is on the banks of the Scheldt, the very spot where he had disembarked, that the Knight elects to make reply to _Elsa's_ questions. There the _King_, the nobles, and the Brabantians, whom he was to lead, are awaiting him to take command, and as their leader they hail him when he appears. This scene, "Promise of Victory," is in the form of a brilliant march and chorus, during which the Counts of Brabant, followed by their vassals, enter on horseback from various directions. In the average performance of the opera, however, much of it is sacrificed in order to shorten the representation.

The Knight answers their hail by telling them that he has come to bid them farewell, that _Elsa_ has been lured to break her vow and ask the forbidden questions which he now is there to answer. From distant lands he came, from Montsalvat, where stands the temple of the Holy Grail, his father, Percival, its King, and he, _Lohengrin_, its Knight. And now, his name and lineage known, he must return, for the Grail gives strength to its knights to right wrong and protect the innocent only so long as the secret of their power remains unrevealed.

Even while he speaks the swan is seen floating down the river. Sadly _Lohengrin_ bids _Elsa_ farewell. Sadly all, save one, look on. For _Ortrud_, who now pushes her way through the spectators, it is a moment of triumph.

"Depart in all your glory," she calls out. "The swan that draws you away is none other than Elsa's brother Godfrey, changed by my magic into his present form. Had she kept her vow, had you been allowed to tarry, you would have freed him from my spell. The ancient gods, whom faithfully I serve, thus punish human faithlessness!"

By the river bank _Lohengrin_ falls upon his knees and prays in silence. Suddenly a white dove descends over the boat. Rising, _Lohengrin_ loosens the golden chain by which the swan is attached to the boat; the swan vanishes; in its place _Godfrey_ stands upon the bank, and _Lohengrin_, entering the boat, is drawn away by the dove. At sight of the young Duke, _Ortrud_ falls with a shriek, while the Brabantian nobles kneel before him as he advances and makes obeisance to the _King_. _Elsa_ gazes on him in rapture until, mindful of her own sorrow, as the boat in which _Lohengrin_ stands vanishes around the upper bend of the river, she cries out, "My husband! My husband!" and falls back in death in her brother's arms.

_Lohengrin's_ narrative of his origin is beautifully set to music familiar from the Prelude; but when he proclaims his name we hear the same measures which _Elsa_ sang in the second part of her dream in the first act. Very beautiful and tender is the music which he sings when he hands _Elsa_ his horn, his sword, and his ring to give to her brother, should he return, and also his greeting to the swan when it comes to bear him back. The work is brought to a close with a repetition of the music of the second portion of _Elsa's_ dream, followed by a superb climax with the Motive of the Grail.

DER RING DES NIBELUNGEN

THE RING OF THE NIBELUNG

A stage-festival play for three days and a preliminary
evening (Ein Bühnenfestspiel für drei Tage und einen
Vorabend), words and music by Richard Wagner.

The first performance of the entire cycle of four
music-dramas took place at Bayreuth, August 13, 14, 16, and
17, 1876. "Das Rheingold" had been given September 22, 1869,
and "Die Walküre," June 26, 1870, at Munich.

January 30, 1888, at the Metropolitan Opera House, New York,
"Die Walküre" was given as the first performance of the
"Ring" in America, with the omission, however, of "Das
Rheingold," the cycle therefore being incomplete, consisting
only of the three music-dramas--"Die Walküre," "Siegfried,"
and "Götterdämmerung"; in other words the trilogy without
the Vorabend, or preliminary evening.

Beginning Monday, March 4, 1889, with "Das Rheingold," the
complete cycle, "Der Ring des Nibelungen," was given for the
first time in America; "Die Walküre" following Tuesday,
March 5; "Siegfried," Friday, March 8; "Götterdämmerung,"
Monday, March 11. The cycle was immediately repeated. Anton
Seidl was the conductor. Among the principals were Lilli
Lehmann, Max Alvary, and Emil Fischer.

Seidl conducted the production of the "Ring" in London,
under the direction of Angelo Neumann, at Her Majesty's
Theatre, May 5-9, 1882.

The "Ring" really is a tetralogy. Wagner, however, called it
a trilogy, regarding "Das Rheingold" only as a Vorabend to
the three longer music-dramas.

In the repetitions of the "Ring" in this country many
distinguished artists have appeared: Lehmann, Moran-Olden,
Nordica, Ternina, Fremstad, Gadski, Kurt, as _Brünnhilde_;
Lehmann, Nordica, Eames, Fremstad, as _Sieglinde_; Alvary
and Jean de Reszke as _Siegfried_, both in "Siegfried" and
"Götterdämmerung"; Niemann and Van Dyck, as _Siegmund_;
Fischer and Van Rooy as _Wotan_; Schumann-Heink and Homer as
_Waltraute_ and _Erda_.

Louise Homer as Fricka in "The Ring of the Nibelung"]