Music Theatre and Opera MUSI502 – 10Y (HAM)

“A Musical Landmark” Richard Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde

Submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of

Bachelor of Music (Honours)

BY

Nicholas Braae

The University of Waikato 2010 Student ID: 1138629

A perusal of the literature on Richard Wagner and his music drama Tristan und Isolde leaves the reader in little doubt that both occupy a special place in the pantheon of Western art music. Millington argues that Wagner’s contribution to the development of music was “so far reaching as to be almost incalculable”1; John Rose describes Tristan as a “landmark in musical history”2; Charles Osborne simply states that Tristan is “one of the most remarkable operas ever written.”3 Even Wagner, in a letter to Franz Liszt, wrote that the work is a “monument to the most beautiful of all dreams…the true happiness of love.”4 Perhaps the most resounding proof of Tristan’s status is its continued prominence in the academic world, in which the work’s Prelude has become the most studied piece of Western art music.5

Millington warns that the popular and perceived image of Wagner is the product of exaggeration and imagination; but, he does acknowledge that the idea of an “arrogant, self-centred, manipulative opportunist and sybarite, who relieved other men of their wives as readily as he relieved the wealthy of their cash” contains some truth.6 In short, Wagner is remembered as a highly polarizing figure — in part, revered for his musical innovations; in part, criticized for composing decadent and “vulgar musical bombast”7; and in part, despised for his seemingly (but probably misunderstood) loathsome nature.

Enrico Fubini stresses that Wagner was a poet, a composer, a philosopher and a critic8 and it would thus appear that much of the academic appeal lies in his multi- faceted nature. The purpose here is to study Tristan und Isolde as a musical work of art; however, to do so in isolation would be foolish and ultimately insufficient given the integral role and influence of Wagner’s philosophical views on his compositional style. Indeed, one faces quite a task of comprehending Tristan if unaware of the

1 Barry Millington, The New Grove: Wagner (London: Macmillan Publishers Ltd., 2002), 1. 2 John Luke Rose, “A Landmark in Musical History,” in The English National Opera Guide: Tristan and Isolde, ed. Nicholas John (London: John Calder Publishers Ltd., 1983), 9. 3 Charles Osborne, The Complete Operas of Richard Wagner (London: Michael O’Mara Books Ltd., 1990), 152. 4 Michael Tanner, “The Total Work of Art,” in The Wagner Companion, eds. Peter Burbidge and Richard Sutton (London: Faber and Faber Ltd., 1979), 178. 5 Robert Bailey, preface to Richard Wagner, Prelude and Transfiguration from Tristan and Isolde, ed. Robert Bailey, A Norton Critical Score (Ontario: W.W. Norton & Co., 1985), viii. 6 Barry Millington, “Wagner As An Individual: Appearance and Character,” in The Wagner Compendium: A Guide to Wagner’s Life and Music, ed. Barry Millington (New York: Schirmer Books, 1992), 98. 7 Enrico Fubini, The History of Music Aesthetics, trans. Michael Hatwell (London: Macmillan Press Ltd., 1990), 332. 8 Ibid., 320.

1 aesthetic principles that underpin it. With this in mind, I propose a two-part approach to my discussion. The first section will look at Wagner’s ideas, primarily as set forth in his Zurich essays, written in the late 1840s and early 1850s. Wagner’s main contribution to Western classical music has been his innovative approach to opera. These seminal publications outline Wagner’s visions for the genre and significantly influenced his compositions in the years that followed.

Having established a framework, I will progress to Tristan und Isolde as a musical text and examine it in relation to Wagner’s ideas. This is done in general terms, as well as through detailed examination of two scenes from the work (an extract from the love-duet of Act II and Isolde’s Liebestod at the end of Act III) so it is possible to see how Wagner’s theories play out in a specific context. The close examination of particular scenes also allows for consideration of some of Wagner’s compositional methods — in particular, his advanced harmonic language.

Finally, an overview of Tristan would not be complete without discussion of the Prelude, in particular the opening passage containing the famous ‘Tristan’ chord. It is quite remarkable that a single musical moment — only four bars in length — could have caused so much consternation amongst scholars regarding its function and how it should be viewed. I doubt I can add a new opinion to the debate given the multiple existing ones already; however, it is possible to reflect on, and assess some interpretations of the phrase. The aim is not to examine every aspect of Tristan but rather to consider the points that seem most pertinent and set it apart from other works in Western music history.

Jürgen Kühnel argues that Wagner’s Zurich essays constitute “an important and thoroughly original contribution to discussions of the philosophy of art…in the nineteenth century.”9 One should be careful of overstating the originality of Wagner’s ideas; Fubini contends that, as a whole, his aesthetic contribution was a significant achievement. That said, he should be viewed as the figure who summed up the various strands of Romanticism that had preceded him into a comprehensive and cohesive set of ideas, as opposed to one who provided a fundamentally new direction

9 Jürgen Kühnel, “The Prose Writings,” trans. Simon Nye, in The Wagner Handbook, eds. Ulrich Müller and Peter Wapnewski (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1992), 565.

2 for his successors.10 Indeed, one could contend that the idea of a “total work of art” — the Gesamtkunstwerk — had been foreshadowed in Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, insofar as Wagner argued that the “absolute” nature of the music had reached “a point of such intensity” that the only possibility for Beethoven was the incorporation of vocal text.11 However, when combined with a revolutionary fervour, Wagner’s ideas take on a new meaning in his writings.12

There are three principal essays that deserve consideration from this period: Die Kunst und die Revolution (1849), Das Kunstwerk der Zukunft (1849), and Oper und Drama (1850-51). Although separate treatises, there is a connection and evolution of ideas throughout the works. His theories were influenced by his prior exposure to ancient Greek literature. During his formative years in the 1820s, he studied Greek but was gradually forced to commit more time to music at the expense of the language. In the early 1840s, this interest was revived through contact in Paris with Samuel Lehrs, a philologist with a particular knowledge of classic literature.13 In the summer of 1847, Wagner further immersed himself in the works of Aristophanes, Plato, Homer and Aeschylus, to the extent that he felt unable to reconcile himself with contemporary literature.14 There are few links between the ancient works themselves and his compositions; rather, the significance of this experience lies in the insights Wagner gained into the nature and role of art within ancient Athenian society.

In Die Kunst und die Revolution, Wagner outlined his admiration of the Athenian polis because of the perceived harmony between the individual and society, between one’s private and one’s public interests. The art of Athens was regarded as the supreme manifestation of this harmony and was “public” in the sense it that was “present in the public consciousness, whereas today it is present only in the consciousness of individuals, meaning nothing to the unconscious public.”15 In the mid-1800s, one’s public and private interests were in conflict with one another, due

10 Fubini, The History of Music Aesthetics, 320. 11 Tanner, “The Total Work of Art,” 152. 12 Fubini, The History of Music Aesthetics, 321. 13 Hugh Lloyd-Jones, “Wagner and the Greeks,” in The Wagner Compendium: A Guide to Wagner’s Life and Music, ed. Barry Millington (New York: Schirmer Books, 1992), 158. 14 Ibid., 158. 15 Mark Berry, “Richard Wagner and the Politics of Music-Drama,” The Historical Journal 47, no. 3 (2004), 667.

3 to the advent of the bourgeois system.16 Although Wagner acknowledged the undesirability of a society founded on slavery (as ancient Greece was), he argued that modern society was not far removed from this system. The development of capitalism resulted in everyone becoming a “slave to capital.”17 This idea applies equally to all of society, not in the least to the artist who creates a product for the ‘market’ and is paid for it. Consequently, the ‘artist’ is no longer an artist, in the true sense of the word, but a craftsman (with connotations of an industrial labourer18) whose final product and its subsequent profit are of greatest importance.

This is the primary distinction between the artist of ancient Greece and that of Wagner’s era— the Greek artist was rewarded through his own pleasure and public approval19 whereas the contemporary artist [to Wagner] was bound by the profit- making restraints of society. It is interesting to note, with the benefit of hindsight, that much of the same argument is invoked nowadays as a critique of popular music in relation to the ‘classical’ music of centuries past.20 The “revolution of mankind,” envisaged by Wagner as occurring in 1848-49, would overcome the bourgeois social order and consequently return art to its status as a public entity rather than a commodity. The Gesamtkunstwerk would be the artistic manifestation of the new collective unity of society.21

Wagner elaborated his aesthetic ideas in Das Kunstwerk der Zukunft, published a few months after Die Kunst und die Revolution. Wagner cites poetry, dance and music as the three fundamentals of ancient Greek drama; since that time, each has been isolated from one another and thus their dramatic potential remains unfulfilled.22 In drama, these three elements “permeate, generate and complement” each other and are bound by the common principle of rhythm.23 It is not necessary to explore the metaphysical and rather abstract thoughts concerning the Gesamtkunstwerk; the principal point is that the new music drama would provide the vehicle for the renewal of the arts. In the music drama, the “actor of the future” would fuse the three human

16 Kühnel, “The Prose Writings,” 582. 17 Ibid., 583. 18 Ibid., 584. 19 Ibid., 584. 20 In particular, see “Musical Values,” in Julian Johnson, Who Needs Classical Music? Cultural Choice and Musical Value (New York: Oxford University Press, 2002), pp. 10-32. 21 Kühnel, “The Prose Writings,” 584. 22 Barry Millington, Wagner (London: J.M. Dent & Sons, Ltd., 1984), 41. 23 Kühnel, “The Prose Writings,” 587.

4 arts — at once, a poet, a musician and a dancer — and would be complemented by the unity of the three visual arts — architecture, sculpture and painting — thus restoring the separate elements into one24, as had been done in Greek tragedy. The notion of the Gesamtkunstwerk was also underpinned by the völkisch ideology which urged the recreation of a primordial world in which those of German lineage lived as an integrated community.25 This vision is clearly related to the idea of social revolution in which the bourgeoisie is overthrown in favour of a unified brotherhood. With regards to the music drama, Wagner emphasized that the Gesamtkunstwerk would respond to the needs of this new community and would be created by a fellowship of artists representative of das Volk26, thus re-positioning art firmly in the consciousness of the people.

Oper und Drama completes this set of essays with more detailed discussion of the music drama. The treatise begins with an historical survey of opera of which (with a few exceptions) Wagner gives a rather negative appraisal. The reason for opera’s demise had been misunderstandings on the composers’ behalf:

…the means of expression – music – has been taken for the sole aim and end, while the true aim – the drama – has been neglected for the sake of particular musical forms.27

Eighteenth-century opera placed emphasis on the arias which served to highlight the artistic abilities of the performer. The composer therefore wrote music for the singer and the librettist in turn for the composer so as to match the singer’s needs.28 It is unsurprising that the new creator of the Gesamtkunstwerk would be the composer and the librettist so that “each of them knows and feels what the other knows and feels.”29 In conjunction with this requirement, Wagner developed a theory of alliteration and verse structure, which was influenced by the belief that music originated from the language of the primitive man. The poetry of the music drama sought to revive alliterative verse because of its inherently rhythmic nature. End rhyme, by contrast, reflects the disintegration of the unified arts by creating arbitrary and meaningless

24 Millington, The New Grove: Wagner, 8. 25 Ibid., 8. 26 Ibid., 8. 27 Fubini, The History of Music Aesthetics, 321. 28 Kühnel, “The Prose Writings,” 590. 29 Fubini, The History of Music Aesthetics, 324.

5 verse that suits a particular melody.30 This language was unable to speak of emotions; the Volk, on the other hand, spoke a language from the heart and, thus, the alliterative verse structure would connect directly with the common people.31

As for the music, it is reunited with poetry in that the melodies develop out of the verse; furthermore, a system of melodische Momente, ‘melodic impulses,’ (and more commonly known as leitmotif) is conceived to function as “signposts of emotions” which are understood as such by the audience.32 The orchestra takes on the role of providing the harmony for the singers thus rendering the chorus surplus to requirements. The orchestra also assumes a role analogous to that of the Greek chorus in that it comments on, and provides insight into the characters and unfolding narrative onstage through the extended use of leitmotifs.33

There is more that could be said in relation to these essays, however, it is possible to see from this introduction that Wagner’s awareness and admiration of ancient Greek society informed his vision of the music drama as the embodiment of the Gesamtkunstwerk. On reflection, it is evident that some of Wagner’s ideas were manifested quite explicitly — consider the construction of the Bayreuth theatre, the integral role of the orchestra in Tristan, or the complex web of leitmotifs in Der Ring des Nibelungen; whereas others were rather more idealistic — as Carl Dahlhaus wryly points out, “even for the most orthodox Wagnerian, it must be hard to blink the fact that Wagner’s imagination with respect to stage design lagged behind his musical imagination.”34 Furthermore, his vision of a social “revolution” and subsequent creation of an artistic fellowship remained unfulfilled (yet as Adorno pointed out, the “form of nationalism that he [Wagner] embodied exploded into National Socialism”35). By examining the concept of the music drama, though, as set out in the Zurich essays, I have established a framework that allows for a more informed study of Tristan und Isolde. It becomes evident that this work does not conform to the

30 Kühnel, “The Prose Writings,” 595. 31 Stewart Spencer, “Wagner as Librettist,” in The Wagner Compendium: A Guide to Wagner’s Life and Music, ed. Barry Millington, (New York: Schirmer Books, 1992), 266. 32 Millington, Wagner, 48. 33 Berry, “Richard Wagner and the Politics of Music-Drama,” 671. 34 Carl Dahlhaus, Esthetics of Music, trans. William Austin (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1982), 65. 35 Theodor W. Adorno, “Wagner’s Relevance for Today,” trans. Susan Gillespie, Grand Street 44 (1993), 35. See, also, Nicholas Vazsonyi, “Marketing German Identity: Richard Wagner’s “Enterprise”,” German Studies Review 28, no. 2 (2005), pp. 327-328.

6 theories of the music drama perfectly; however, without understanding these ideals, it would be a difficult task understanding the work.

In its simplest form, Tristan und Isolde is about love; more specifically, it is about forbidden love, desire and yearning between Tristan and Isolde, who has been promised in marriage to Tristan’s uncle King Marke. In Act I, it is further revealed that Tristan had previously killed Isolde’s fiancé and thus she is entitled to revenge. Isolde tells Tristan they must both drink her mother’s potion, believing it to be a draught of death. Brangäne, Isolde’s maid, switches the death potion with a love potion that Tristan and Isolde subsequently drink. In Act II, King Marke and his courtiers go on a hunt at night, providing an opportunity for Tristan and Isolde to meet and consummate their love. As daylight approaches, the lovers are oblivious to Brangäne’s warning that the hunting party is returning. King Marke discovers the pair and is distraught with Tristan’s betrayal. Tristan and Melot, a courtier, engage in a duel and Tristan, seeking death, falls on Melot’s sword. In Act III, Tristan has returned to his own castle, Kareol, and lies delirious with his faithful servant, Kurwenal, in attendance. He waits and hopes in vain for Isolde’s ship to approach across the ocean. Finally, Isolde reaches Kareol along with Brangäne and Marke, who seeks to forgive Tristan. It is too late, however, and Tristan dies in Isolde’s arms. Isolde laments the death and in doing so is mystically ‘transfigured.’ She sinks onto Tristan’s lifeless body and dies, finally uniting the pair in the afterlife.

The idea of Tristan was conceived in 1854 — Wagner wrote to Liszt describing his Tristan as “the simplest, but most full-blooded musical conception”36 — and was first performed in its entirety in 1865. It is worth noting that the story was not Wagner’s creation; it is an ancient Celtic legend that first appeared in literary form around the twelfth century. Wagner used Gottfried von Strassburg’s version (ca. 1200-20) as the basis for his composition, though he added and fused various characters. Millington cites several reasons why Wagner turned to writing Tristan (he had at the time been working on Siegfried) — the confusion in his mind over which works should reflect his inspirations; a need for money; and a desire to reconnect with his audience, given that his most recent opera, Lohengrin, had been performed in 1850.37 Wagner even

36 Barry Millington, “Operas,” in The Wagner Compendium: A Guide to Wagner’s Life and Music, ed. Barry Millington (New York: Schirmer Books, 1992), 300. 37 Millington, Wagner, 228.

7 thought that the music drama would be suitable for provincial theatres and entertained thoughts of composing it in the style of an Italian opera in order to attract larger audiences.38 Tristan was completed in 1859, yet another six years passed until Hans von Bülow conducted the première. There were problems concerning the location which partially accounted for the delay; at the same time, however, the work made “superhuman demands”39 of its leading roles, required an expansive, rather than moderate, symphony orchestra and was four hours in length, challenging for both performers and audiences. It is evident that idealism overtook pragmatism in Wagner’s mind at some point in the compositional process. Examining two other important contextual details might elucidate this shift.

The first concerns Wagner’s personal affairs in the early 1850s. In 1853, he met Otto and Mathilde Wesendonck and, in the ensuing years, developed an infatuation and love for Mathilde. She provided compassion, empathy and an understanding of Wagner, all of which were lacking in his marriage.40 Their love was ultimately impossible — both were married — and it is in their art that their relationship survived, so to speak. Mathilde wrote five poems that Wagner set to music, the ‘Wesendonck Lieder.’ On Wagner’s behalf, Tristan was composed as a monument to their love. The pair was cast in the roles of Tristan and Isolde while Otto Wesendonck paralleled the role of King Marke who “personifies the barrier between the lovers.”41 Although Wagner and Mathilde had an intimate relationship, it is unlikely that it was sexual; if so, Millington argues, it would have “shattered the dream” of a forbidden love.42 Aberbach argues that Tristan and Isolde are denied a sexual relationship in the text so that they can fulfill a higher spiritual relationship in the afterlife.43 It is plausible to link this aspect of Tristan to Wagner’s own experience; perhaps he saw in his relationship with Mathilde that gratification of their passions would, to use Aberbach’s distinction44, bring pleasure only to the mind at the expense of the soul.

38 Osborne, The Complete Operas of Richard Wagner, 151. 39 Rose, “A Landmark in Music History,” 11. 40 Alan David Aberbach, The Ideas of Richard Wagner, 2nd ed. (Maryland: University Press of America, 2003), 378. 41 Millington, Wagner, 229. 42 Ibid., 228. 43 Aberbach, The Ideas of Richard Wagner, 2nd ed., 279. 44 Ibid., 279.

8 One should be careful of reducing Tristan to the adaptation of Wagner’s own life into the theatre; indeed, when the German Emperor remarked, “how deeply [he] must have been in love at the time [of composing Tristan],” Wagner rejected the claim as “quite ridiculous.”45 As much as anything, such an idea ignores the medieval origins of Tristan und Isolde. Additionally, Millington argues that the music drama idealizes the concept of love and transforms it beyond anything connected to reality.46 That Tristan and Isolde can only be united in the afterlife conveys an idea of love that transcends one’s ordinary experiences and enters into a metaphysical state. Therefore, one can conclude that Tristan perhaps parallels, without necessarily mirroring, Wagner’s life; it appears his relationship with Mathilde Wesendonck influenced, and provided an impetus to use this particular legend as the basis for his composition.

The second important detail is Wagner’s introduction to the writings of German philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer in 1854, whose ideas had a significant influence on the text of Tristan. Schopenhauer’s views (like those of other writers of his era) are weighed down by abstract and metaphysical considerations; therefore I will only outline his ideas in brief. The general premise of Schopenhauerian theory is that humans are subjected to the ‘will-to-live’ and do not possess the intellect to comprehend their will. Because the will strives towards no end, “all life is suffering” — that is, Schopenhauer pessimistically projects the view that everyone would be better off not being born at all.47 Human feelings and desires, by being subject to the will, are inherently evil and this is manifested, above all, in the sexual act, which is tainted with sin and guilt. The only means of escape is through the “renunciation” of the will; in other words, through death.48

Schopenhauer’s views are not all laden with gloom, though. Art provides a means for man to come to know the “Idea” which is the objectification of the will. Ordinary men are unable to overcome their subjection, however, the genius can rise above human nature and achieve greater fulfillment through art.49 Furthermore, music stands higher than all other art forms because of its ineffable and abstract nature — it

45 Millington, Wagner, 229. 46 Ibid., 229. 47 Aberbach, The Ideas of Richard Wagner, 2nd ed., 267. 48 Ibid., 267. 49 Fubini, The History of Music Aesthetics, 280.

9 does not simply objectify the will but copies the will itself.50 Thus, through music, the artist (genius) is able to overcome his or her own subjection to the will in the most complete manner. Given his view of music’s superiority to other art forms, it should be of no surprise that Schopenhauer preferred instrumental music because it is pure and untainted by extra-musical elements. In this sense, one can see the influence of Schopenhauer on Tristan; the orchestra’s prominence and continuous commentary on the narrative reflects music’s status as an absolute language. It is somewhat ironic, though, that such treatment of the music should occur in an opera (or music drama, to be more precise), a genre cast in a negative light by Schopenhauer because the music strives “to speak a language which is not its own” when in conjunction with a text.51

Wagner drew on Schopenhauer’s views, but extended the idea of renunciation of the will through death. He contended that the “pacification” of the will lay in love and furthermore, in the sexual love between a man and a woman.52 As Wagner states, there “lies in our natural tendency towards sexual love a path of salvation which itself leads to self-knowledge and self-denial of the will.”53 It is important to note that this “sexual love” was not equivalent to sexual contact, rather, it stood as a symbol for a transcendental mystical union.54 In Tristan, the difference between a solely sexual union and a mystical union — that is, between the physical and the spiritual — is represented by the dichotomy between day and night. Drawing together Wagner’s and Schopenhauer’s views, it is evident that the mystical union and, therefore, the renunciation of the will occurs in the ‘night,’ or through death. Aberbach suggests that Tristan takes on the appearance of a mystical metaphor in certain scenes55; indeed, the idea of abandoning the day and entering into the world of the night recurs throughout the work. One can see how these philosophical ideas impacted on Tristan; the salvation that both characters are granted in the second act takes place literally at night, yet it is not until they transcend into the metaphorical night (that is, they die), having overcome the sexual desires and temptations of the real world, that they are united in love.

50 Ibid., 281. 51 Ibid., 283. 52 Millington, Wagner, 230. 53 Ibid., 230. 54 Aberbach, The Ideas of Richard Wagner, 2nd ed., 276. 55 Ibid., 276.

10 I now turn to Tristan und Isolde as a musical text, and more specifically, examine it in relation to the principles of music drama as outlined by Wagner.56 Perhaps the most obvious impression one gains from watching or listening to Tristan is the continuous nature of the work (aside from the division into acts). This structure stands in marked contrast to the eighteenth-century style of opera in which arias and recitatives alternated as the narrative unfolded; Wagner had also used discrete musical sections in pre-Zurich works such as Tannhäuser and Lohengrin. Therefore, it is clear that the structural advances of Tristan und Isolde derive from Wagner’s conception of the music drama. There are fragments of scenes which, arguably because of their melodic appeal, have been treated as ‘numbers’ (such as the Prelude or Isolde’s Liebestod) however, this is a by-product of history as opposed to a reflection of the work’s structure.57 Indeed, one only needs to examine the score to confirm this feature; the division of acts into scenes is marked only by a double barline, compared to a final barline that ends each act.

Osborne even argues that the uninterrupted structure suggests a spontaneous growth and generation of musical material from the seeds of the Prelude.58 The work of Anthony Negus and Nicholas John, contributors to The English National Opera Guide: Tristan und Isolde, complements this idea; the pair identifies 47 themes that appear in various guises throughout Tristan.59 The list is not only an invaluable resource for the listener, but also it allows one to see how the musical ideas relate to one another. For example, the opening bars of the Prelude are divided into Theme 1 and Theme 2a; Theme 3 then appears in bars 17-18 of the Prelude as shown below.

56 My analysis is based primarily on two scores. Unless otherwise indicated, the examples used in the essay are in reduced form and taken from Richard Wagner, Tristan and Isolda, Vocal Score, trans. Henry Grafton Chapman, ed. Richard Kleinmichel, (New York: G. Schirmer Inc., 1906). In the case of referring to specific instrumental parts, I have used Richard Wagner, Tristan und Isolde (New York: Dover Publications, Inc., 1973). The reduced score is evidently of greater assistance in conducting harmonic analysis; although there are orchestral parts not included in the reduction, this does not compromise my analysis in any way. 57 Wagner himself extracted scenes from Tristan and presented them in concerts and thus he must bear some of the responsibility for this tendency. See Robert Bailey, “Historical Background,” in Richard Wagner, Prelude and Transfiguration from Tristan and Isolde, ed. Robert Bailey, A Norton Critical Score (Ontario: W.W. Norton & Co., 1985), pp. 12-43. 58 Osborne, The Complete Operas of Richard Wagner, 151. 59 Anthony Negus and Nicholas John, “Thematic Guide,” in The English National Opera Guide: Tristan and Isolde, ed. Nicholas John (London: John Calder Publishers Ltd., 1983), pp. 38-44. The authors are not listed in the book; this detail is included here following personal contact with Anthony Negus by email, 28 September, 2010.

11 Figure 1. Theme 1 and Theme 2a

Figure 2. Theme 360

It appears that Theme 3 derives from the opening bars of the Prelude — both contain the chromatically rising appoggiatura figure over a static harmony. Negus and John go on to state that Theme 10 “grows out of the end of” Theme 3 and then Theme 15 out of Theme 10.61 Furthermore, Rudolph Reti ingeniously demonstrates that Isolde’s initial melody of the Liebestod (which is then continued in the third and fourth bars below by the horns and violins) — the concluding section of Tristan — is, enharmonically, a horizontal realisation of Prelude’s vertical sonorities (with slight chromatic inflections), and that these chords form the genesis for the passages of vocal melody throughout the work.62

60 This theme is presented in closed position as is set out in The English National Opera Guide. The actual music is, of course, not as condensed. 61 Negus and John, The English National Opera Guide: Tristan and Isolde, 38. 62 Rudolph Reti, The Thematic Process in Music (New York: Macmillan Publishing Co., 1951), pp. 337-338.

12 Figure 3. Reti’s connection between the Prelude and Isolde’s Liebestod

At a more general level, the use of appoggiaturas (as heard in both Themes 2a and 3) is consistent throughout Tristan, particularly in Isolde’s Liebestod of Act III. At the major cadential points, the violin melody highlights a 6-5 appoggiatura over an arpeggiated accompaniment that outlines clear harmonic progressions (in Figure 4 from E major to B major in first inversion).

Figure 4. Orchestral Appoggiaturas in Isolde’s Liebestod

Even with rudimentary examples, it is possible to see the generative nature of the music in Tristan und Isolde. While there is a wealth of melodic variation throughout the work, it is evident that there is an evolution of ideas from the Prelude, both in terms of specific musical figures (the relationship between Theme 2a and Theme 3; the derivation of the Liebestod melody from the Prelude) and formal elements in a broader context (the use of appoggiaturas). This brief analysis, therefore, adds weight to Osborne’s theory which advocates the organic nature of the music in Tristan, a feature that is central to Wagner’s concept of the music drama.

In Oper und Drama, Wagner established the orchestra’s primary role as providing a commentary on the drama through the use of leitmotifs, acting as signposts for objects, places, characters and emotional states-of-mind. This approach was taken up vigorously in Der Ring des Nibelungen; in Tristan, however, the use of leitmotifs tends towards non-specific associations. As Millington notes, “motifs are not used…to symbolize swords and spears [as was the case in the Ring].”63 Nonetheless, most writers attempt to identify the various themes and motifs in concrete terms, a practice Dahlhaus labels as “questionable…[but] unavoidable” for the purposes of

63 Millington, The New Grove: Wagner, 29.

13 studying the work.64 It appears then that one must be careful of attaching specific descriptions to fixed forms of the music, as much as anything, because the individual motifs themselves take on varying meanings in the different contexts of Tristan. Millington states that the opening chromatic motif of the Prelude has been suggested to represent ‘Tristan’, ‘suffering’, ‘grief’, and so forth; essentially, at various points in Tristan, this motif conveys each of these particular ideas.65

John Drummond extends the concept of leitmotif to suggest that the keys through which the music modulates represent particular concepts.66 For example, C major and its most closely related keys symbolize the “Tag-world” [the day] whereas the sharpest and flattest keys are associated with Nacht [the night] and love.67 There are obvious dangers in taking a reductive view because of the complex tonal and harmonic relationships (and Drummond is quick to acknowledge this), similar to the problem of assigning themes specific meanings. That said, one can see that the use of particular musical figures and keys in Tristan relates to drama as it unfolds. In this regard, I will return to Drummond’s ideas and the use of leitmotifs during the close examinations of particular scenes. Although one is warned of taking a narrow approach, it would seem that utilizing and drawing on these suggestions of key and leitmotif associations allows for a more comprehensive interpretation of Tristan und Isolde.

One could consider the roles of the orchestra and the chorus in Tristan as departing from the principles set out in Oper und Drama. According to Wagner’s treatise, the orchestra assumed a commentary position and conjoined with the vocal text and stage action to create the overall drama, each complementing and articulating the other.68 It appears at times, though, in Tristan, that the orchestra assumes a more prominent status than earlier prescribed. The extravagant and “opulent” orchestration — a triple wind section — combined with the symphonic orchestral writing and further combined with the long vowel sounds of the vocal melodies, at times, render the actual text inaudible.69 This feature ultimately concerns acoustics and sound

64 Carl Dahlhaus, Richard Wagner’s Music Dramas, trans. Mary Whittall (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1979), 61. 65 Millington, Wagner, 235. 66 John Drummond, Opera in Perspective (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1980), 289. 67 Ibid., 288. 68 Dahlhaus, Richard Wagner’s Music Dramas, pp. 54-55. 69 Millington, The New Grove: Wagner, 29.

14 perception and thus may not have been intended by Wagner; however, it suggests that the synthesis of music and poetry is unequally weighted, with the orchestra taking greater responsibility for conveying the drama of the work.

If this is the case, one may wonder why Wagner used a chorus in Tristan, given the ubiquitous presence of the orchestra in the narrative. The chorus plays a minor role in the work —it participates in only a few passages of Act I — but Werner Brieg argues that its role is fundamental to the drama.70 Brieg states that the primary function of the chorus is to remind the audience that the narrative takes place against a background of stately affairs — after all, Tristan is wooing Isolde on behalf of King Marke.71 He also argues “the chorus is the backdrop for the shifting of the action to the inner, psychological plane in Act I.”72 This idea is exemplified at the end of Act I. Tristan and Isolde have both drank the love-potion which causes them to release their feelings for one another: Tristan! Isolde! Treuloser Holder! Seligste Frau! In their dream-like state, both are convinced they can enter into the world of the night (death) in which their love is permissible.73 As they embrace each other, the chorus interrupts on several occasions, crying out “Heil! König Marke Heil!” which serves to halt the progression to the inner mind and provide a reminder that the narrative is still unfolding in the light of the day. Brieg concludes that such a striking contrast between the lovers’ desire for the night and the reality of the day could not have been achieved sufficiently in this context by any other device, hence explaining the necessity of the chorus.74

It is also possible to understand the role of the chorus without referring to metaphysical ideas. As already stated, Wagner envisaged that the contemporary orchestra would have the same function as the Greek chorus — that is, it “carries” the

70 Werner Breig, “The Musical Works,” trans. Paul Knight and Horst Loeschmann, in The Wagner Handbook, eds. Ulrich Müller and Peter Wapnewski (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1992), 460. 71 Ibid., 460. 72 Ibid., 460. 73 Anthony Negus, “A Musical Commentary,” in The English National Opera Guide: Tristan and Isolde, ed. Nicholas John (London: John Calder Publishers Ltd., 1983), 19. 74 Brieg, “The Musical Works,” 460.

15 onstage events and “elucidates” them. 75 In this regard, the chorus in Tristan also serves a similar purpose to its classical counterpart. At a basic level, the interruptions by the chorus act as a commentary on the narrative insofar as they remind the audience that the love unfolding between Tristan and Isolde is forbidden and hence, should be prevented. One could argue, therefore, that the presence of the chorus in Tristan does not necessarily repudiate the principles of the music drama. Rather, Wagner’s chorus maintains the role prescribed in Greek theatre, thus further demonstrating his admiration for the ancient art form.

It is now appropriate to focus on individual scenes and examine the music drama in more specific detail. It must be noted that the following examples of harmonic progressions should only be interpreted as reflecting a pared down form. To discuss the harmony of Tristan, taking into account every note in the complex polyphonic texture would be fascinating, but too big an undertaking in this present context. I will make references to the orchestration; however, for practical reasons, the musical illustrations provided will be in closed form. I will begin by discussing an extract from Tristan and Isolde’s duet, commonly titled “O sink hernieder, Nacht der Liege,” from Act II, Scene II, followed by Brangäne’s Watchsong (to borrow Millington’s title76), in which she warns the lovers of the impending daybreak.

The extract from the love-duet opens with a descending melody played by the flute before being transferred to the oboe with the harp and viola providing a gentle and lilting accompaniment. This theme permeates Acts II and III and appears to have connotations of desire and longing — it is first heard at the beginning of Act II when Isolde eagerly waits for the sounds of the hunting party to fade so that Tristan may come to her. Its presence is understandable here; the scene takes place at night, a time in which Tristan and Isolde can be together.

75 Ulrich Müller, “Wagner and Antiquity,” trans. Stewart Spencer, in The Wagner Handbook, eds. Ulrich Müller and Peter Wapnewski (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1992), 230. 76 Millington, The New Grove: Wagner, 29.

16

Figure 5. Introduction to “O sink hernieder”

The theme is fragmented and continues to descend to the A in the fifth bar of the extract after which the cello, cor anglais and horn enter, sounding the ‘Tristan’ chord (F, A, B and Eb) that harshly interrupts the woodwind melody. The cor anglais and horn then take the melody in an inner voice, outlining another prominent motif of Act II, a falling fourth or fifth that then ascends by step towards the initial note. This idea arguably represents the daylight or the world of light, the metaphysical force that prevents Tristan and Isolde’s love. The juxtaposition between night and day is

17 highlighted frequently throughout this scene and emphasises the barrier that exists between the pair. Even without being aware of the motifs, it is possible to hear the disruptive nature of the ‘daylight’ motif; the cor anglais and horn pierce through the orchestra, breaking the dream-like state induced by the lulling oboe and harp combination. The tension created here finds a form of resolution in the subsequent Eb bass note (not shown), suggesting the tonality of Ab major. However, the continued presence of the horn melody leaves an unsettled feeling and warns that daylight will return shortly.

This conflict between the night and desire, on the one hand, and the day and light (essentially, possible and impossible love) recurs soon thereafter. Tristan and Isolde both implore the night and death to take them away from reality so that they may be together:

O sink’ hernieder Oh, sink around us Nacht der liebe Night of loving gieb Vergessen Let me now dass ich lebe; Forget I’m living nimm mich auf Bear me softly in deinen Schoss Unto thee, lose von From the world der Welt mich los Oh set me free.77

Tristan continues, “Verloschen nun // die letzte Leuchte” [Now every light has lost its gleaming], convinced they are safe from the day.

77 The text and translation is from, Richard Wagner, “Tristan and Isolde,” trans. Andrew Porter, in The English National Opera Guide: Tristan and Isolde, ed. Nicholas John (London: John Calder Publishers Ltd., 1983), pp. 45-92.

18 Figure 6. “Verloschen nun…”

His ascending melody conveys a sense of hope which is echoed in the rising cor anglais and second violin parts. Although in inverted form, the harmony indicates a 6 6 7 progression towards a temporary tonic of Cb major [IVb-bVI aug -Ic-IV -V d], creating a sense of tonal stability that complements Tristan’s optimism. In spite of these features, the oboe penetrates the music with a variation on the ‘daylight’ motif (the upper voice of the instrumental part). It seems ironic and cruel that as the lovers rejoice in the prospect of the night, the day re-emerges briefly to remind them of reality. Even Wagner’s choice of the oboe that plays the counter-melody is significant, given the Romantic tendency towards cantabile as the predominant oboe playing style; as Richard Strauss said, “no other instrument [than the oboe] could reveal the sweet secret of love’s innocence in such affecting tones,” reflecting on the second act of Wagner’s Tannhäuser.78 Therefore, there is a striking juxtaposition in this passage between the lyricism and “affecting” tones of the oboe as it sounds, and dark and ominous meaning that the oboe’s melody conveys.

The ‘daylight’ motif returns soon in a passage harmonically and thematically parallel to the one above. Tristan and Isolde dream of their unification having departed from the world:

eines Athems One the breath einiger Bund;— That now we breathe; bricht mein Blick sich Blind desire of joy wonn’-erblindet Will blind me, erbleicht die Welt And all the world mit ihrem Blenden: I leave behind me.

Yet just as Isolde laments, “die uns der Tag trügend erhellt” [All that the day lit with its lie], the oboe once more sounds a warning of the day. Therefore, the text expresses the desires and joy of the two characters onstage, though it is the orchestra that communicates the ideas in this passage that are reflective of reality. The recurring

78 Richard Strauss, in Janet K. Page, et al, “Oboe,” in Grove Music Online, Oxford Music Online, from http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com.ezproxy.waikato.ac.nz/subscriber/article/grove/music/40450 (accessed 16 August, 2010).

19 motif played by the oboe pierces the orchestration in the same way that daylight is about to pierce Tristan and Isolde’s dream.

The clash between day and night is further evident in Brangäne’s Watchsong that interrupts the love-duet. Negus argues that this passage is possibly “the most sheerly beautiful piece of sonority in Tristan”79; Brangäne’s drawn-out and long phrases are complemented by soaring string counter-melodies and arpeggiated harp and viola figures, reminiscent of the orchestration that opened the section and evoked a dream- like state. On closer inspection though, her vocal line reinforces the warning that her words carry. Standing out of sight of Tristan and Isolde, Brangäne sings:

Einsam wachend Lonely watcher in der Nacht, In the night, wem der Traum You who dream der Liebe lacht, In love’s delight hab’ der Einen Hear my warning Ruf’ in Acht, Call aright; die den Schläfern My foreboding Schlimmes ahnt, Makes me fear bange zum Waken sleepers Erwachen mahnt! Danger’s near! Habet Acht! Ah, beware! Habet Acht! Ah, beware! Bald entweicht die Nacht! Soon the night will pass!

79 Negus, “A Musical Commentary,” 22.

20

Figure 7. Brangäne’s Watchsong

Brangäne’s melody is simply the ‘daylight’ motif that has permeated this section, though rhythmically augmented over nine bars. The repeated use of this theme in the vocal line of this section shows an even closer integration of music and text. Whereas in the preceding section, the orchestra’s commentary contradicted the characters’ words, here, the implications of the text are united with the music.

21 One should also note the proliferation of appoggiaturas in this extract. It is difficult to label particular functions to the harmonies — the tonality here is loosely Ab major and the bar following the extract, the music modulates to A major. Therefore, the harmonic direction of the music is anything but conventional. That said, the actual 7 o7 o7 7 7 chords can be identified to an extent: Db -Db (enharmonically vii /Ab)-Ab -Eb -

7 Db [all over an Ab pedal]. Above the chords, the clarinet outlines successive 9-8 appoggiaturas, which, as already noted, is a feature prevalent throughout Tristan. The clarinet melody, which gently rocks up and down between notes in close proximity to one another, also helps to evoke the ethereal mood of this section. Even though Brangäne attempts to warn Tristan and Isolde of the fast-approaching day, there is a sense by which they and the music are still bound in their outer-worldly and dream- like experience, refusing to be returned to the unkind truth of the present.

In the earlier discussion of this scene, it was argued that the descending step-wise melody could represent the desiring and longing of Tristan and Isolde for each other. Negus and John, in the work’s “Thematic Guide”, relate the ‘desire’ motif to the archetype below.

Figure 8. ‘Desire’ Motif, [19a]80

One can compare this to the violin part that runs through this section, especially the last 15 bars.

80 Negus and John, “Thematic Guide,” 41.

22

Figure 9. 1st and 2nd Violins, and Brangäne

In the third bar, the violins highlight a descending arpeggiated figure that derives from a motif of a falling seventh, also prominent in this scene. The remainder of the violin parts, though, appear to derive from the ‘desire’ motif; the first two bars in inverted form, while in the fifth to seventh bars, the initial two-bar motif is fragmented. In the remainder of this extract, the violins extend the motif with descents greater than a fifth that eventually lead to arpeggiated counterpoint of the progression B major – B minor – BØ. Once again, there is a contrast between Tristan and Isolde’s desires and the daylight. As Brangäne states her final caution that the

23 night will soon end, the violins seemingly make one more attempt, on behalf of Tristan and Isolde, to cling to the last remnants of the night. The motif symbolizing the pair’s longing for each other is repeated, each time higher towards the utmost limits of the violin, as if trying to reign triumphant over Brangäne’s warning. Yet the desiring cannot be maintained in the face of the approaching day and the violin line falls, in the process absorbed into harmonies that get progressively darker, major to minor to half-diminished.

81 Drummond argues that F# major represents “Nacht’s loss of individuation” , the state that Tristan and Isolde seek. The passage starting from Brangäne’s words “Habet acht!” clearly finds F# major as its tonic (11 bars earlier, G# minor was briefly tonicized, perhaps indicating a larger-scale function as ii of F#). The harmonies that conclude this passage suggest a cadence into F# — B major and minor indicate a plagal cadence, while BØ is an enharmonic, chromatically altered,

82 leading-note chord of F# major. The cadence does occur but notably, not until

Brangäne has finished singing. The arrival in Gb major (enharmonically F# major) returns the attention to the lovers, oblivious to Brangäne’s warning and still seeking death as a means for unification. The violins provide an introduction for the characters — a coaxing melody featuring the falling seventh motif; though as Tristan and Isolde begin to sing, the music slips away from Gb major just as the pair is slipping away from the sanctity of the night.

Although this section ultimately reaches F#/Gb major, for the most part, there is a tonal juxtaposition between A major and Ab major, which, according to Drummond, represent “compassion” [as part of the human element of love] and “Nacht,” respectively.83 The opposition between these keys is significant — in conventional harmony terms, there is little, if any, relationship between the two — and it is fascinating from a compositional perspective to examine Wagner’s manipulation of

81 Drummond, Opera in Perspective, 289. 82 o vii in F# major contains the notes E#, G# and B. The notes here are B, D, F and A. Rearranged, this creates a half-diminished seventh chord on F with a raised third, i.e. F-A-B-D, hence it can be approximated to viio. 83 Drummond, Opera in Perspective, pp. 289 and 302.

24 enharmonic and chromatic chords to modulate seamlessly from one key to another. The significance of these keys can perhaps be seen in Isolde’s Liebestod which appears to find a tonic key of B major. For Drummond, the choice of B major represents the fusion of love and death, a point at which the two can finally unite. He reasons that B major is the key equidistant from the prominent keys of the love-duet — the subdominant major of the relative minor of A and the relative major of the 84 [enharmonic] tonic minor of Ab. This may appear tenuous and far-fetched and furthermore, Drummond’s claim of equidistance doesn’t hold. B major is separated from Ab major by one degree (the relative major) and a chromatic inflection; from, A major, there are two degrees of separation (relative minor and subdominant) and a chromatic inflection. Nonetheless, it appears that B major is significant in some way and Drummond admirably attempts to decipher its purpose. Negus, on the other hand, argues that there is an ambiguity in the Liebestod between B major and E major.85 By examining the Liebestod, it is evident that both views are, to an extent, valid.

The Liebestod opens with the same melody that Tristan and Isolde sang in the latter half of their duet of Act II. The beginning of that phrase contained the text “So stürben wir, // um engetrennt” [So let us die, // And never part] and therefore it seems appropriate that as the moment of unity in death approaches, the melody that symbolizes this desire should be prominent.

84 Ibid., 302. 85 Negus, “A Musical Commentary,” 28.

25

Figure 10. Opening of Isolde’s Liebestod

This is not the first time the melody has been heard in Act III either. In the preceding passages of this scene, as Brangäne and Marke lament over Tristan’s death, the first bar of the theme is played by the violins, each time a semitone higher, beginning in F and rising, here to Ab major. The fragmentation of the theme appears to serve as a premonition of Isolde’s fate, gradually rising towards Ab, which has been noted as the key representing the night and death. Millington argues that the harmonies of this phrase are particularly significant in the wider context of the Transfiguration. Following the opening bars in Ab major, the dominant fails to resolve (in the traditional sense) and instead “slides” into Cb major, the key of the following phrase while also foreshadowing the final tonality of Tristan, B major.86 This lends credence to Drummond’s theory of B major being the unifying key of ‘love’ and ‘death’; however, one should be careful to note the prominence in this passage of second

86 Millington, Wagner, 240.

26 inversion chords. Millington also contends that the second inversion chord is tonally ambiguous87 and therefore denies a resolution and stable sense of a key, symbolizing the resolution that Isolde desires through death but is yet to achieve.

The sense of tonal ambiguity remains through the Liebestod even when B major appears established as the tonic key. Earlier, the passage below was examined with regards to the use of orchestral appoggiaturas; it can be utilized again in the present context.

Figure 11. Cadence in Isolde’s Liebestod

7 One can see the descending bass towards the F# chord in the first bar which is reached through an augmented sixth chord on the preceding G. The full orchestra is employed to effect the cadence in the following bar; however, instead of resolving to the tonic as anticipated, the harmony moves to E major before falling to a tonic chord in first inversion. In the bars prior to this extract, Isolde’s melody had slowly ascended through a ninth (to the E§ on “klinget”), while in the previous nine bars, the bass had descended an eleventh down to F#, the dominant of B major. This apparent moment of triumph, though, is undermined by the cadence that fails to find the tonic key in root position and instead places emphasis on the subdominant harmony. One can understand, therefore, how Negus arrives at the view of a dual or uncertain tonality in the Liebestod. The use of the tonic chord in inverted form is prevalent in the closing section of Tristan; furthermore, in the climactic phrase of the

87 Ibid., 239.

27 Liebestod, the ambiguity between E major and B major is emphasised with some musical extravagance.

Figure 12. Climactic cadence of Isolde’s Liebestod

The passage has an apotheosis-like quality; Isolde’s melody reaches its highest pitch of the Liebestod and the grandiosity of the entire orchestra reflects the “Welt” [world] of which she sings. Furthermore, the dominant pedal that had been maintained for the previous seven bars is released, though its place of resolution is once again an E major harmony. B major is finally heard in root position in the following bar, but as has been the case throughout this scene, its placement in the phrase creates the impression that is subordinate to E major, challenging its claim to be the closing tonic key.

It is only ten bars before the end of Tristan that B major assumes its mantle as the tonic key. As Isolde’s melody slowly descends, accompanying her departure to the

28 afterlife, the intensity of the orchestra fades, so that the cadence into B major is supported predominantly by a harp accompaniment with the strings outlining the harmony only on the first quaver beat of the bar.

Figure 13. Isolde’s ‘Liebestod’, minor plagal cadence into B major

The descending woodwind motif that had marked the previous cadences is maintained in almost identical form, though it takes on a different character given the accompaniment, which now progresses from tonic to subdominant in second inversion (as opposed to subdominant to tonic). This firm statement of B major, the much-anticipated moment of resolution, is undercut somewhat by the use of a minor plagal cadence to introduce it. Although the iv6-I progression is typical of music of this period, its harmonic strength pales in comparison to the relationship between dominant and tonic, a relationship that is conspicuously absent from the Liebestod. There is a beautiful juxtaposition in these final bars between a point of such structural importance and its aurally unspectacular nature. Given the grand and symphonic nature of the preceding phrases, the pronouncement of B major has a deliberately understated, perhaps even anti-climactic, presence. Thus, it appears difficult to decide

29 whether Tristan simply ends in B major (extrapolating from Negus’ opinion) or if it establishes B major as the tonic key (Drummond’s theory). Negus concludes “it is one of the profound joys in the experience of Tristan that such questions may never be finally resolved.”88 He may well be right.

The most recognized, celebrated and debated aspect of Tristan und Isolde is the opening four bars and the ‘Tristan’ chord. Before the curtain falls, as Isolde lies dead with Tristan, the orchestra is privileged the last statement of the harmony, which depending on what notes are deemed important (and functional), is either a French sixth or a half-diminished seventh. The sonority of the half-diminished seventh is used frequently in the Liebestod, primarily in succession as a means of heightening the tension as the music approaches a cadence. The distinguishing feature of the final ‘Tristan’ chord, though, is that it is succeeded by the minor subdominant harmony; in other words, it resolves. Returning to the opening of Tristan, analysts have struggled to ascribe a name and function to the initial ‘Tristan’ chord, precisely because its resolution is problematic in this context. The question is: can this issue be solved with reference to the conclusion of the work?

Unfortunately, the response would seem to be negative. Consider the opening three bars of Tristan und Isolde.

Figure 14. Tristan und Isolde, Prelude, bars 1-3

The difficulty lies in the second bar and how this conglomerate of notes should be 7 labeled. It is clear that the third bar outlines an E chord (treating the A# as an appoggiatura) which indicates a framework of A minor. Analysts have therefore sought to identify the essence of the chord in bar 2 in relation to both the subsequent dominant seventh and A minor. Broadly speaking, two conclusions can be reached. Ernst Kurth argued that the fundamental triad is B-D#-F#; therefore the chord is a

88 Negus, “A Musical Commentary,” 28.

30 dominant seventh of E with a flattened fifth so that the “melodic tension…is intensified in the direction of the following E.”89 On the other hand, Lorenz, who draws from the work of Hugo Riemann, describes bar 2 as pertaining to the minor subdominant.90 This terminology relies on Riemann’s derivation of the minor triad from an ‘undertone’ series; in more conventional terms, Lorenz’s interpretation renders the chord a iiØ, though with a raised third and in second inversion. The difference between the two theories is summarised in Figure 15.91

Figure 15. ‘Tristan’ chord analysis92

The main criticism of such definitions (and functions) is that they fail to convey what is actually heard in the opening bars. For a start, the A of the triads above only arrives on the final quaver of bar 2 having been preceded by a lengthy G#, which is assumed by the analysts to be an appoggiatura. Yet as Werner Karsten notes, the “unusual character of the chord lies in its characteristic dissonant form.”93 In other words, the analyses do not recognize the acoustic nature of the chord which depends entirely on the presence of the G# — that is, a perfect fourth superimposed on an augmented fourth. The sense of emptiness, suffering and tension is evoked through this particular spatial arrangement of the notes; the description in terms of conventional harmony does not capture this mood. Indeed, one could even argue that any analysis in these terms is lost and overshadowed completely by the voicing of the ‘Tristan’ chord.

89 Ernst Kurth, “The Tristan Prelude,” extract from Romantische Harmonik und ihre Krise in Wagners “Tristan,” 2nd ed., trans. Robert Bailey, 45-53 (Berlin: P. Haupt, 1923), reprinted in Richard Wagner, Prelude and Transfiguration from Tristan und Isolde, ed. Robert Bailey (New York: W.W. Norton & Co., 1985), 187. 90 Alfred Lorenz, “The Prelude,” extract from Das Geheimnis der Form bei Richard Wagner, Vol. 2: Der musikalische Aufbau von Richard Wagners “Tristan und Isolde”, trans. Robert Bailey, 12-28 (Berlin: Max Hesse, 1926), reprinted in Richard Wagner, Prelude and Transfiguration from Tristan und Isolde, ed. Robert Bailey, W.W. Norton & Co.: New York, 1985, 207. 91 The title of a ‘French sixth’ is not a different interpretation; rather, it re-phrases the idea of the chord as a secondary dominant. 92 This figure is derived from Werner Karsten, “Harmonische Analyse des Tristan-Akkordes,” Schweizerische Musikzeitung 91 (1951): 291-96, reprinted in Richard Wagner, Prelude and Transfiguration from Tristan und Isolde, ed. Robert Bailey, W.W. Norton & Co.: New York, 1985, 233. 93 Ibid., 235.

31

The basic assumption of the harmonic analyses is that the opening four bars are located within an A minor structure. One might ask though, what A minor structure? The analytical difficulty of this passage further lies in its construction; that is, the opening cello melody floats free of any harmonic constraints or references. Heard in isolation, the notes A, F and E, could ‘belong’ to C major, F major or D minor. Likewise, A and F could outline the dominant of Bb major. Drummond argues that the opening A is structurally important because it directs the listener towards the ensuing dominant seventh of bar 3.94 With no initial harmonic reference points though, it is hard to agree with this claim. Evidently, the following chords direct the analysis towards A minor; but even this is tenuous. For the resolution that occurs from the opening ‘Tristan’ chord is a dominant seventh, a chord that requires resolution itself. Does this occur? Instead of progressing to A minor, as would be expected, the opening phrase is repeated a tone higher, avoiding any sense of a tonic key.

Figure 16. Tristan und Isolde, Prelude, bars 4-7

Dahlhaus states that, in terms of tonality, the dominant principle of music from the seventeenth to the nineteenth centuries was of a self-sufficient harmonic system which was independent of melodic and contrapuntal processes.95 Consequently, melody grows out of, and is essentially subservient to harmony. Wagner’s innovation, although still within tonal boundaries, was to emancipate the melody and counterpoint from “preformed chordal associations.”96 In this regard, one reads the opening bars as individual melodic lines that combine to create chordal sonorities. The harmonies, therefore, grow out of the melodies as opposed to being grounded in

94 Drummond, Opera in Perspective, 362. 95 Dahlhaus, Richard Wagner’s Music Dramas, 64. 96 Ibid., 64.

32 the functional tradition of tonality. It is unsurprising then that the functional analytical techniques should bear such little fruit in this context.

This idea is crucial in terms of the final ‘Tristan’ chord of the work, which functions as a secondary dominant of the following E minor harmony. Does this shed light on the beginning, though? The answer seems to be no, primarily because the latter example appears to occur within a “preformed” progression, to invoke Dahlhaus’ distinction. Although the sonority is virtually identical, its specific context provides it with its function. In a different context, such as the opening of Tristan, the applied dominant function is not applicable. It is arguably possible for the listener to hear such a difference; the final bars are tending towards a cadence point and therefore, one senses the melodic movement as deriving from a harmonic pattern. By comparison, the opening of Tristan und Isolde presents the listener with only a lonesome cello line, free from any harmony. The famous chord arises unexpectedly from nothing, thus providing the sonority with its peculiar and haunting character.

Tristan und Isolde is a challenging work for listeners and music scholars alike, who can each respond to the complex contrapuntal and chromatic writing on such a large scale. This essay has presented those aspects that contribute to a general overview of Tristan, such as the background philosophical and biographical information that had a significant influence on Wagner’s composition. Furthermore, general features of the music, as well extracts from the Act II love-duet and Isolde’s Liebestod have been considered in order to demonstrate the realisation of Wagner’s principles in the genre of music drama.

Wagner’s contemporary, Eduard Hanslick, was particularly critical of Tristan und Isolde. Furthermore, the formalist tradition that flourished in the latter half of the nineteenth century grew out of a reaction to Romantic ideals, of which Wagner’s music was considered by many to be representative. Hanslick argued that Wagner’s contribution to history “[did] not represent an enrichment, an extension, a renewal of music in the sense that the art of Mozart, Beethoven, Weber, and Schumann did.”97 That said, the detailed construction of the work — the intricate relationships between

97 Eduard Hanslick, Vienna’s Golden Years of Music: 1850-1900, trans. and ed. Henry Pleasants III (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1950), 153.

33 motifs, keys, characters and the orchestra as shown in the scenes examined — surely negate Hanslick’s claim that “the new method of ‘dialogue music drama’…is the formless infinite.”98 One may even argue that the ‘Tristan’ chord epitomizes the formal perfection of Tristan. Within that one harmony, Wagner presents us with a provocative musical moment that demands an ever elusive resolution; for four hours, Wagner maintains this longing. Having traversed the harmonic spectrum, peace is finally found and Tristan und Isolde concludes. As Adorno pointed out, Wagner, in Tristan, created “an almost perfect unity between the subjective work, the specific musical achievement, and the objectivity of the musical idiom of chromaticism.”99

Unsurprisingly, Wagner’s place in Western music history is difficult, if not impossible, to assess. On the one hand, some of his compositional elements foreshadow the harmonic developments of the twentieth century. As Dahlhaus notes, the “formal coherence” of Wagner’s work stemmed from a structured web of motivic relationships as opposed to a “harmonic-syntactic structure.”100 This technique paved the way for “wandering tonality,” as explored by Mahler, Bruckner and Strauss, and ultimately twelve-tone composition.101 On the other hand, Schoenberg and his initial foray into serialism later came to be regarded as belonging to the late-Romantic and German tradition. In this sense, Wagner’s music did not usher in a new musical idiom but represented the pinnacle and effective culmination of the Western tonal harmony system, in Debussy’s words, “a beautiful sunset that has been mistaken for a dawn.”102

98 Ibid., 160. 99 Theodor W. Adorno, “Vers une musique informelle,” in Quasi una Fantasia: Essays on Modern Music, trans. Rodney Livingstone (London: Verso, 1992), pp. 306-307. 100 Carl Dahlhaus, “Wagner’s Musical Influence,” trans. Alfred Clayton, in The Wagner Handbook, eds. Ulrich Müller and Peter Wapnewski (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1992), 553. 101 Ibid., 553 102 Léon Vallas, The Theories of Claude Debussy, Musicien Français, trans. Maire O’Brien (London: Oxford University Press, 1929), pp. 125-126.

34 Bibliography

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