© Shamoni Sarkar
There is something splendid about innocence; but what is bad about it, in turn, is that it cannot protect itself very well and is easily seduced. Because of this, even wisdom – which otherwise consists more in conduct than in knowledge – still needs science, not in order to learn from it but in order to provide access and durability for its precepts.
There is something splendid about innocence; but what is bad about it, in turn, is that it cannot protect itself very well and is easily seduced. Because of this, even wisdom – which otherwise consists more in conduct than in knowledge – still needs science, not in order to learn from it but in order to provide access and durability for its precepts.
Immanuel Kant
Innocence
and wisdom are redefined in the Metropolitan
Opera’s performance of Wagner’s four-part Ring of the Nibelung series. In Norse mythology, Wotan, the ruler
of the gods, pays the giants Fafner and Fasolt with a golden ring that is the
source of supreme power, in return for building him the mansion Valhalla where
the gods can reside. However, the wicked gnome Alberich who stole the ring from
its rightful owners, the Rheinemaidens, has already cursed it. Wotan realizes
that by giving the ring to the giants instead of returning it to its owners,
his kingdom has been doomed by the curse. Valhalla must fall, but a hero that
is free from any godly influence can save the rest of the world. The opera is
devoted to the search for this hero. When one filters the auditory, visual and
spatial cues, one realizes that the theme running through all four parts is
that of unguided innocence. Wagner presents us with a fearless Nordic hero in
Siegfried, and in him we see the splendor of innocence that Kant speaks of, but
ultimately it is too splendid. His
eventual death suggests that his untamed innocence is not enough, and is in
fact harmful, for the collective safety of the realms of the dwarves, the
humans and the gods. Perhaps Wagner is telling us that a hero needs something
else— something that would guide his savagery in the right way.
Brünnhilde, Wotan’s favorite child, has inherited her all-knowing wisdom
from her mother Erda. So her decision to help the human lovers Sieglinde and Siegmund
against the wishes of her father cannot be a spontaneous act of sympathy but must
instead be the result of deep foresight. Wotan has already told her that the
world needs a hero that is free of godly laws. Maybe she intuits that helping
the humans will benefit the world in the future and produce the elusive hero. Maybe
she places hope in Sieglinde and Siegmund’s yet unborn son Siegfried, the man
she will eventually marry. Ironically, it is the marriage and her subsequent
submission to human passions that accelerate the process toward Valhalla’s
imminent fall. Brünnhilde perhaps senses this downfall too, because when she
agrees to give up her status as a god and live as a free mortal with Siegfried,
she cries,
My senses are reeling,
my reason fails:
my reason fails:
shall all my wisdom vanish?
Are these words
of lament and doubt? But why should they be, because isn’t Brünnhilde by now
aware that the self-restricting nature of the gods’ wisdom has led to their
impending downfall? Siegfried seems to be the potential savior because he is
fearless and guided not by rules but by his senses. But Wagner still treats the
gods with respect, and a victory of sense over reason seems too easy a resolution
for the complexity of his opera. Brünnhilde’s doubts must be well founded. Perhaps
there is still a need for some form of wisdom. The music interprets the
unstable situation with menacing low notes punctuating spurts of shriller ones
that accompany Siegfried and Brünnhilde’s outbursts of passion.
Siegfried is an orphan who
has seen no other world beyond the forest he grew up in. He is the ideal hero
because he does not carry the burden of an older way of doing things. But he
has never seen a woman in his life, so when he finds Brünnhilde, he is scared
and cries out “Mother, mother!” The orchestra plays notes of sympathy. Perhaps
Siegfried’s confusion is Wagner’s warning that he may lose himself in this kind
of innocence. Soon, his lack of wisdom and his uncontrollable passion cause him
to be swayed by humans with corrupt intentions, and he betrays himself, Brünnhilde
and Valhalla’s future. So does fearless innocence still need a parent to guide
it? Does a hero need something to hold him down?
As one approaches the twilight of the
gods in the fourth opera, one begins to understand that most of the leitmotifs used
during the course of the entire series contain contrasting emotions. Magic Fire, one of the most human
leitmotifs, is first played in The
Valkyrie when Wotan requests Loge to construct a fire around his daughter to
protect her from cowards. She has been trapped in a deep sleep by her father as
a punishment for disobeying the rules of the gods and the family. Magic Fire is filled with high notes of
doubt and premonition before it lapses into assurances of kindness and safety.
The leitmotif Valhalla is used to
introduce the realm of the gods. Confidently, it moves from lower to higher
notes, punctuated by the exalting sounds of the trumpet. As a musical cue, Valhalla on its own contains no
uncertainty. But by the time we get to Twilight
of the Gods, we do not hear it, because everything takes place in the world
of the humans. This absence of Valhalla’s
calming influence creates the uncertainty, which reaches its peak with the
frenzied images and music of Brünnhilde’s self-immolation.
As the opera closes,
fire gives way to the water of the Rheine, giving the sensation of a world
being cleansed. Strangely, when I hear the music of the finale I am reminded of
scenes of both rising and setting suns in films. So perhaps it is the darkest
as well as the brightest hour for the gods. We hear the creation of a new
sound: it is a merging together of Magic
Fire, Valhalla and Redemption through Love. Perhaps we can
decipher Wagner’s final word in this last piece of music. Valhalla cannot be
the single site of power any longer, but must burn to make way for a new order.
The trouble had begun when the gnome Alberich had stolen the precious golden
ring by rejecting love, but now, going by the leitmotifs used to close the
story, it is as if the world is being redeemed by love. Although Brünnhilde is
stripped of her godly wisdom when she gives in to human passion and becomes a
mortal, it is her love that is
redemptive. She recognizes Siegfried as a hero that was led astray and realizes
that for the world to start anew, she too must burn along with him and
Valhalla. Through Brünnhilde’s difficult choices, her consequent revelations,
and Siegfried’s fate, Wagner tells us that no kind of love deserves to be given
free reign, but must be treated with caution and reason. At the same time, Wotan’s
errors prove that the wisdom and reason of the gods had been bound too tightly
in rules of conduct, to the extent that it hindered him from breaking away when
needed. Wagner’s music makes a plea for disobedience, destruction and a new
order. To return to Kant, neither the innocence of Siegfried nor the wisdom of
the gods is enough. The “science” required for the new order must be an ungodly,
innocent reason. It is innocent because it does not know of the existence of
other systems before it, and it is ungodly because it does not derive any of
its power from the gods. This reason is bold and knows how to guide itself
based on its own rules. But most importantly, it knows how and when to be bold.
It seems that Wagner is appealing to measured passions. Could this be the
driving force of the new order?
