stere kind--the beauty of holiness--afterwards,
as she momentarily drops her dignity and pleads her cause. She gains
the day and departs, and after Wotan's tedious meditation comes the
most magnificent music of all. We hear the Fate theme--a strange
phrase that seems to question destiny without ever getting an
answer--and a subject taken bodily from Mendelssohn and made into a
new thing filled with a curious blending of wistful and tender pity,
mystery and power. It gives us a glimpse into the very heart of
Bruennhilda, obeying her father because she must, and revolting against
the task. Siegmund's declamation is a fine example of Wagner's finest
vocal writing at this period--the style which I have referred to as
something between recitative and true song. That is, it remains
metrical without the slightest tendency to fall into regular four-bar
measure, or any other regular measure; yet it decidedly is not
recitative. But as the prevailing mood becomes more exalted, so does
the music become more lyrical, and the ending of the dialogue, when
Bruennhilda's emotion swamps every other consideration than rescuing
the lovers, is sheer song. The orchestral part is symphonic
throughout, with a few dramatic pauses. One of the most wonderful of
these is at Bruennhilda's reply: "Siegmund will see Sieglinda no more."
There is no wailing, no sadness, in the accompaniment--only simple
chords; and the simple voice-phrase, evidently intended to be
half-spoken, makes an effect of overwhelming pathos. Of a different
order is Siegmund's refusal to go to Valhalla: it verges on the
melodramatic, and the emotion expressed justifies the means. It may be
remarked that though the instrumental writing is symphonic, there is
none of the contrapuntal intricacy of _Tristan_: the pictorial
requirement warranted a freer use of chords in the accompanying parts,
both--if a paradoxical phrase may be pardoned--for the abstract colour
of the chords and for the instrumental tone colour which the use of
chords permitted. Wagner never ceases to make us feel that the drama
passes amidst the wild mountains and woods: the drama is poignant
enough in all conscience, and the scenery is an aid to it. We have the
purely pictorial Wagner with the gathering storm--the voices calling
amongst the clouds. The sinister growling of the approaching thunder
is heard, and, still more sinister, the harsh notes of Hunding's
horn; the orchestra rages louder and louder, Sieglinda