onner,
the god of storms, and enter Valhalla; and underneath the dreary wail
of the Rhinemaidens is heard as they lament their loss. With this the
_Rhinegold_ closes.

IV

Now let us consider the music of the _Rhinegold._

Already the discrepancy of styles has been referred to. The
_Rhinegold_, coming between _Lohengrin_ and _Tristan_, suffers from an
odd sort of pettiness of phrase--a pettiness which in all probability
we should not feel if we did not judge it by _Tristan_. The wide sweep
of the tide of music that we find in the _Valkyrie_ is absent; there
is a tendency to shorten the measures, a hesitation between boldly
going on, as in his later manner, and the symmetrical four-bar
measures of _Tannhaeuser_ and _Lohengrin_. The opening of the second
scene is in structure that of a Handel opera air: we have the
ritornello, and presently the same music is repeated as the
accompaniment of Wotan's salute to his castle. This smallness of
design, it must be remembered, is only comparative: compared with
anything of the sort done before, the design is big and broad. The
Wagner of the _Valkyrie_, of _Tristan_ and of the _Mastersingers_, has
not acquired full mastery of his new art; there are still plenty of
full closes, and, though words are not repeated, the effect at times
would hardly be more conventional if they were.

But in all the music we have the first-fruits of Wagner's walks
amongst the Swiss mountains. When he sent the book of the _Ring_ to
Schopenhauer, that crotchety critic wrote in it that it seemed mainly
concerned with clouds; and truly it very largely is. The _Rhinegold_
ends with a storm, the flash of lightning and the roar of thunder; in
each Act of the _Valkyrie_ there is a storm; the Third Act of
_Siegfried_ opens with a storm; there is one storm in the _Dusk of the
Gods_. Wind screaming through the pines, the plash of rain, the
driving of thunder-clouds--these are the pictorial inspiration of the
_Ring_ as surely as old Nuremberg is the pictorial inspiration of the
_Mastersingers_. These Scandinavian gods are the divinities of river
and wood and mountain, and Wagner made full use of them. The _Ring_ is
far too lengthy, and the main drama is apt to get forgotten; the
repetitions, due to Wagner's desire not to let it be forgotten, are
wearisome. But one thing can never be forgotten--the sense of the open
air, the freshness of nature, the loveliness and health of the green
earth: that sense keeps