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Updated: May 24, 2025
Beside the door of Isolde's apartment a torch is burning. The sound is heard of hunting-horns gradually retreating. Brangaene stands on the castle-steps, listening to these. Isolde, all in a happy agitation, hurries forth to ask if they still be audible. She herself cannot hear them any more. But to Brangaene's ear the sound is still distinct. Isolde listens again: No!
The emotion of that night came to her at will, and lying in her warm bed she considered the meeting of Tristan and Isolde in the garden, and the duet on the bank of sultry flowers. Like Tristan and Isolde, she and Owen had struggled to find expression for their emotion, but, not having music, it had lain cramped up in their hearts, and their kisses were vain to express it.
When she recovered and was able to speak, she said, in pitiful accents, "Gentle seneschal, I pray you bring him where I may speak with him, or my heart will break." "Trust me for that," answered Dinas. Then he and Dame Bragwaine brought Tristram and Kehydius privately to the court, and to a chamber which Isolde had assigned for them.
"From Tristan to Mark lies Melot's road. He there sows evil seed. This nocturnal hunting-party, so hurriedly concerted, has in view a nobler quarry than your fancy deems!" "Melot," Isolde persists in his defence, "invented the stratagem, out of compassion for his friend. And do you make it into a reproach to him? He cares for me better than do you. He opens to me that which you close.
Their struggle is cut short by Kurwenal announcing Tristan. Brangaene staggers to the back. Isolde visibly summons up all her courage, all her strength, and with queenly self-possession bids Tristan approach. The music introducing the following scene has the effect of lifting the story on to a plane of larger things.
In like manner the love-story of Tristan and Isolde, which came probably from Brittany or Cornwall, was joined by other romancers to the Arthur-saga.
As a boy, every experience of this sort fired my imagination with ambition, and led to all sorts of noble resolutions, some of which, at any rate, were carried into execution. The deepest impression ever made on me by any work of art was at Munich, ten years ago, when I heard for the first time Wagner's "Tristan and Isolde," which I was already familiar with through the pianoforte score.
Surely the brain of a Dumas could not have conceived a more romantic event than this sudden transformation of one who was a fugitive from debtor's prison into the favorite of a young and enthusiastic king. At last Wagner had an opportunity to bring forward his music-dramas. "Tristan and Isolde" was sung at the Munich Opera on June 10, 1865, with an excellent cast, and Hans von Bülow as conductor.
Isolde understands the allusion to her mother's magical lore, and commands that a casket be brought to her. Brangane obeys with alacrity and exhibits its contents: lotions for wounds, antidotes for poisons, and, best of all, she holds a phial aloft. Isolde will not have it so; she herself had marked the phial whose contents were to remedy her ills.
And in this "Tristan und Isolde" of Gottfried von Strassburg is there not fate also in the love potion intended for King Mark, and given by the mistake of Brangwaine to Mark's bride and his nephew? To this objection, which will naturally occur to any reader who is not acquainted with the poem of Gottfried, I simply answer, there is not.
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