UNDERSTANDING THE RING: M. O.—THE MOTIVE OPERANDI

One of the strangest albums in my magnificent collection is An Introduction to Der Ring des Nibelungen, a two-CD set of spoken word by Deryk Cooke (no relation to Wagner biographer Derek Watson) with brief orchestral examples—London/Decca CD208789. The CDs demonstrate Wagner's use of leitmotifs, or "leading motives," throughout the Ring cycle to give it unity, but I confess that I have never listened to the entire two-and-a-quarter hours of explanation contained on the CDs, and in fact, I have employed the album most frequently as an aid to getting rid of house guests who threaten to deplete my liquor supply. Can't beat that album for throwing a damper on the party, as Dr. Cooke reads off his laundry list of leitmotifs in a clipped and rapid monotone.

But despite the quality of Dr. Cooke's delivery (or, as we philistines are wont to say, irregardless of it), this must be some important [stuff] here. After all, we know that of all of Wagner's profound operas, those of The Ring are the most profoundest, and though they are the most abstruse and arcane, we will profit by our study of them because they yield the most profound wisdom. And enlightened wisdom, too! Profound and enlightened—it's all there for us to discover, and the key to this enlightenment (did I mention that it's also profound?) is to be had in the leitmotifs—The Motives! There's 15 hours o'music in The Ring and unless you know all The Motives—193 of 'em are listed on the CD—none of it means squat. That's right, because you don't know your Motives, The Ring may seem like a tedious and incoherent mess; if you're bored out of your mind with each passing hour, you have only yourself to blame. But take heart, here they are all spelled out for us on this 2-CD set which I happen to own, and—guess what?—I'm gonna share this secret wisdom with you, right here and now.

But only for Classical Archives subscribers! This is pledge week here at the Classical Archives, and if you haven't donated (we know who you are) to the Archives (or its Editorial Writer's Fund), you're going to get a bogus list of The Motives, so get those donations in today.

I should point out at once that the Classical Archives is naturally protective of copyright, and it would be unethical (and illegal) to supply you with a verbatim transcript of Dr. Cooke's analysis. (Go get yer own 2-CD set.) However, I see nothing wrong with a synopsis or a brief overview of Dr. Cooke's thesis. It may not be complete in every detail, but like any good review it should whet your appetite to learn more about this vital (and profound) topic. Here then, is the bare essence of what you need to know in order to enjoy or even comprehend the profound nature of The Ring.

Introductory Remarks: Wagner's Motives have, in reality, a fundamentally psychological significance, and his score reflects the continuing psychological development of the drama. A comprehensive analysis of The Ring would involve clarifying the psychological and heuristic implications of all The Motives and tracing their changing significance throughout the whole of their long and complex development. Nevertheless, identifying a mere 193 examples may greatly enhance one's understanding of The Ring.

Types of Motives: The motives are associated with twenty different types of dramatic symbols: characters, minerals, vegetable group, phyla, household objects, proteins, location, location, location, vestments (mainly helmets), monetary supply, current events, sociology, gross adjusted income, depreciation, monosodium glutamate, taxable dividends (attach Schedule B if required), fats and starches (use sparingly), moving expenses (attach Form 3903) and of course the Freudian symbols (mainly spears, swords and kitchen utensils). An example of a Motive which is associated with a character is the saucy theme associated with the Golden Apples which is introduced in Scene II of Das Rheingold. It's sung by Fafner as he explains the value of the Apples to Fossil. An example of a Motive representing an event is the Zapruder Motive which clearly refutes the Freischütz Motive. An example of a transformation of a motive is the Original Nature Motive which then becomes the Minor Nature Motive which is not to be confused with the Definitive Nature Motive which was previously the Major Nature Motive Major. Such transformations occur when a higher ranked Motive trumps an intermediate Motive, an example of which occurs when the Sweeping Brünnhilde is not allowed to pass Go or collect 200 thalers when she lands on the Kindled Forest Motive. Another such example is The World Ash-Tree Motive which meets an untimely end with the introduction of the creeping World Ash-Tree Borer Motive in Act IVX of Dämmerung der Bäume, and which is followed by the unheard Tree Falls in the Forest Motive. Motives are often transformed into transformation motives which bear absolutely no resemblance to the original motive other than being written on a staff of five lines—e.g., the Gold Motive which is derived from the Rainbow Bridge Motive and which then transmogrifies into the Donner und Blitzen Motive, preceded by the Comet und Cupid Motive.

Enough! Alert readers will have by now realized that this is not an accurate paraphrase of Dr. Cooke's analysis, but I swear by my troth that it is not all that different. It actually matters very little how accurate the analysis is, as the ostensive interrelationship between The Motives and the drama is, I suspect, illusory in many cases, and old Richard himself would be puzzled by some of the alleged links and transformations. In practice, he often introduced Motives without any apparent connection to the dramatic situation—although I suppose that a connection can always be found if one is determined enough. In all such arcane matters there is usually an abundance of professors and metaphysicians found debating the finer points of theology. In one gaggle they might be arguing if the Vow of Atonement Motive is derived from the Hunding's Rights Motive or, instead, the Curse Motive; while another gaggle is debating whether the Dora case typifies Oral Fixation or an Elektra Complex; in the next it's How Many Motives Can Dance on the Head of a Pin. If there are professors who've based entire careers cataloguing the various uses of the ablative pluperfect in Shakespeare, a periodic table of The Motives of The Ring is hardly a surprise. It's what certain types of people with too much time on their hand invariably do—the Devil's Workshop and all that.

What is amusing to me is that apparently there are people who take all this bunkum seriously and they're not even making a Groschen off the scam. It's difficult to imagine, but they must spend their evenings memorizing The Motives as if they were multiplication tables. Once these flagellants have committed all 193 (as of this writing—more Rare Earth Motives may have recently been discovered) Motives to memory, they may then attempt the Grand Ordeal—all fifteen hours of The Ring.

But just how does knowing the identity or title of each Motive increase one's musical experience? How does it profit me to know that every time that annoying descending scale sounds it stands for The Spear? It seems to me that for the listener such information is about as valuable as knowing that Beethoven ended a certain phrase with a V7 chord, and another V7 chord follows in the next phrase and then another. Or that the Eroica symphony was originally dedicated to Napoleon but then he crossed it out, etc.

It's yet another example of Malignant Music Appreciation—the field of study which proselytizes that you should like this music. It's good for you. Wagner and Beethoven were geniuses, fer crying out loud. Doesn't that mean anything to you? This, apparently, is music to be listened to in the same spirit an average teen has when writing a thank-you note to his grandparents.

Even if you instantly identify the Purpose of the Sword Motive when it sounds, what deep insight and what catharsis can that recognition be expected to produce? The Ring and its Motives are, I take it, supposed to function like some monstrous algorithm that, when correctly understood, leads one to The Answer. Or is it The Meaning of Life? Nirvana? Just what it is I can't say—whether it's closer to Total Intellectual Enlightenment or to 10% off your next phone bill—as I've only read vague descriptions of the experience. Like Freud's vaginal orgasm, it's in all the textbooks, and I may have once been hoodwinked into believing in it myself. But then, after sitting through a few of Wagner's groaners while studying the libretto, I came to recognize a load of old codswallop when I heard it.

It almost leads me to believe that there is some truth to phrenology, as Richard Wagner's exaggerated forehead must explain his abnormal musical talent. In all other areas, however, Wagner was either an idiot or insane or both. When in foul temper he would stamp and rave in a tantrum, or hint darkly of suicide or going to the Orient to spend his remaining days as a Buddhist monk. When this tactic worked and he got his way, he would stand on his head or jump up and down on the sofa or rush outdoors and climb a tree or up the side of the house. He was utterly devoid of any scruples or honor and judged others solely on what use they could be to him. He would insult anyone who so much as disagreed with him about the weather.

Much has been made of Wagner's extravagance—instead of paying the rent he would use borrowed money to have the walls and ceiling of his study lined with imported pink silk—but how he got the money is even more appalling. At the very time he was stealing Cosima (a hideous creature in her own right) away from Hans von Bülow, he was writing to a friend asking for the name of some wealthy woman—any wealthy woman—whom he could marry for her money.

Much has been made of Wagner's anti-Semitism. He would hire Jewish assistants—e.g., Joseph Rubinstein and Hermann Levi—and spend hours insulting them and berating them or devising cruel tricks to play on them. Most of his prose writing focuses on blaming all conceivable problems on the Jews. And what insights does he reveal about the Jews in the thousands of words he wrote against them? For one thing, we learn that "It is more than doubtful that Jesus himself was of Jewish extraction"; according to Wagner, Jesus of Nazareth was actually born in a vegetarian commune founded by Pythagoras (580-500 BC). Basically, whatever Hitler had to say about the Jews, Wagner said it first. Hitler adored Wagner in every respect and adopted all his ideas.

Wagner was a vegetarian, which is admirable enough, but what did he say on this topic? Here again, the Jews are to blame for everything, because "The Jewish tribal god found Abel's fatted lamb more savory than Cain's offering of the produce of the field." Vegetarianism is the natural order of things because according to Wagner there are vegetarian panthers and tigers living on the swampy shores of Canadian lakes. African predators have been corrupted into being carnivores due to their proximity to the Sahara and the Jews.

Such are the thoughts of the man who distilled perfect wisdom and fashioned it into a brilliant music drama. You may delve into his recipe for enlightenment if you choose, but as for me, I wouldn't get into the same car with him even if the bartender had already phoned the police that I was too drunk to drive and Wagner offered me a ride home.

I would fain admit that perhaps my intellect is simply not of a caliber to be able to appreciate the subtlety and/or depth and/or profundity of Wagner's poetry, but a perusal of any one of Wagner's librettos stirs doubts in me.

Yet let me tell I had already seen you. You came to me in semblance of a dream I woke and saw you there standing before me. I knew then that you came at God's behest. Your glance awoke a wish to melt before you And like a brook to wind about your path; Or, like a flower, making meadow fragrant, So did I wish to bow beneath your step.

Well, that's very sweet, and it reminds me of my own poetry...written when I was 14 and in musth. Actually, it seems vaguely reminiscent of an author Wagner admired. Edward Bulwer-Lytton (1803-1873) was a popular English writer, and Wagner always made it a point to call on him whenever he visited London. Wagner was so impressed with one of his novels, Rienzi, the last of the Tribunes, that he based an opera on it. Today, Edward George Bulwer-Lytton is best remembered for opening his novel Paul Clifford(1830) with the unforgettable line, "It was a dark and stormy night..." The reason I know this is because those smarty-pants mockers of great aht over at San Jose State University now hold the annual Bulwer-Lytton Contest in which authors are challenged to devise the worst imaginable opening sentence for a novel. (Only by summoning all my willpower have I refrained from quoting a few hilarious entries from years past. Get your own copy.)

Not only does the level of Wagner's writing falls somewhat below the cadaverous standard set by Bulwer-Lytton, but his German is so convoluted and tortured that the Festival Theater at Bayreuth offers for sale a glossary so that native German speakers can decipher what is meant by the more arcane words and phrases. Thus, anyone seeking enlightenment from Wagner will, in effect, be immersing themselves in a cesspool of the equivalent of the stagecraft of Samuel Beckett, the values of Adolph Hitler and the literary style of Deepak Chopra.

Still, I imagine that there are those reading this who would defend the writing of Edward Bulwer-Lytton (if nothing else, it's old and thus respectable) just as there are those who continue to listen with rapt attention (or the appearance thereof) to lines such as Viel, Wanderer? Weißt du mir aus der Erde Nabelnest? (Literally, "Well, wandering? Why don't you ever ask for directions?") Ah, they will think, this is great aht! Ask them about the Deep Inner Meaning, and they will smile knowingly but answer nothing specific. After all, if you must ask, your level of intellectual discernment must be too modest to comprehend anything so profound.

The dedicated Wagner votaries are similar to the gobblers of vitamins who won't be dissuaded from their faith in Black Galosh or Ginko Balboa—especially since they've purchased $1000 worth. Did they recently contract bronchitis, ague and dengue fever all at once? Then it was because they weren't taking enough Extract of Echinoderm. Similarly, the dedicated Wagner votary will sit through long hours of the same Motives being repeated over and over with the stage action moving at a glacial pace, and the palpable frustration and tedium that creeps over the audience will be blamed on the singers—which is why they're regularly hissed at Bayreuth. Nothing will persuade them that it's boring or absurd nonsense, because they are compelled to steadfastly maintain the façade and are likely in on the racket in some capacity (e.g., pedagogues and others on the public payroll).

Because of this, because of the single-mindedness of the Wagner masochists, any sensible revision or abridgment of Wagner's operas would be impossible today, as any such efforts would be met with cries of "heresy!" book burnings, and torchlight parades. As with any religion, Wagnerism demands total obedience and total abandonment of what used to be called common sense, and the more extreme and absurd the point of dogma, the more fervently it must be professed. I have actually heard it said that the worst of his operas, Parsifal, is really the best and that the long stretches of recitation in Act II of Die Walküre are the "most sublime" (whatever that means—perhaps that it goes directly from a solid to a gas).

Audiences have voted with their feet, and as a result Wagner's operas are no longer in the repertoire of most houses. Only the major houses have the resources with which to tackle any of The Ring, and it hardly seems worth the effort. These behemoth music dramas seem destined to be relegated to the status of historical curiosities that educated people have heard of but have no interest in experiencing firsthand. The Ring will then take its place beside Das Kapital, Remembrance of Things Past and the world's largest ball of string.