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Updated: May 24, 2025
Marke, King of Cornwall, has lately been involved in a war with the King of Ireland, whose general, Morold, has invaded the country to compel tribute. Tristan, King Marke's nephew, has defeated the army and killed Morold, but himself been wounded in the fight. His wound refusing to heal, he has sought the advice of the renowned Irish princess and medicine-woman, Isolde.
An innocent song, the strain of which, more decorous than any modern chantey, inspires the sailors as they pull at the ropes, and gives voice to the delights of the peaceful voyage: Yet it stirs up a tempest in the soul of Isolde. She is the daughter of an Irish queen, a sorceress, and she now deplores the degeneracy of her race and its former potency.
'I had no notion that Baron von Elmur liked me any better than my countrymen, said Rallywood aloud. 'Ah, no, perhaps not; but now, you will understand, he wishes to please me! Countess Isolde answered with an air of mysterious importance. 'He is not alone in wishing to do that, returned Rallywood, ashamed even as he uttered it, of the meaningless compliment.
At other times she would tell it to the grass or even to a stick of cordwood or a ton of coal. Guido and Isolde, though they had never met, cherished each the features of the other. Beneath his coat of mail Guido carried a miniature of Isolde, carven on ivory. He had found it at the bottom of the castle crag, between the castle and the old town of Ghent at its foot.
Cooling breezes waft him again toward Ireland, whose princess healed the wound struck by Morold, then ripped it up again with the avenging sword with its telltale nick. From her hands he took the drink whose poison sears his heart. Accursed the cup and accursed the hand that brewed it! Will the shepherd never change his doleful strain? Ah, Isolde, how beautiful you are! The ship, the ship!
It was some such mood that inspired the conception of a Tristan und Isolde. I had already expressed my views to my young friend about the faultiness of his sketch.
Then, yielding to the temptation to explain herself, she told Monsignor how it was this second sin that had awakened her conscience. She had tried to look upon Sir Owen as her husband. "But one night at the theatre, during a performance of 'Tristan and Isolde, I sinned with this second man."
Three times he tries to rid himself of life: first when he drinks the supposed poison with Isolde; again when he drops his sword in the duel with Melot; the third time he succeeds, when he tears off his bandages at the decisive moment, when no escape is possible but by instant death. Love for its own sake is not a subject for dramatic treatment. Love-stories are the bane of love.
And here, though his love for La Belle Isolde lay deep in his heart, it was dimmed by later feelings, for there were many fair ladies at the court, and the young knight was at that age when the heart is soft and tender. In the end it happened that a jealousy and unfriendliness arose between King Mark and him.
We stared at one another. "I do with all my heart, if you want to know." "Then, why the devil ?" I asked. She made no answer. She walked across the room to the piano and began to play, rather noisily and rapidly, with odd gusts of emphasis, the shepherd's pipe music from the last act in "Tristan and Isolde."
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