In most editions, Scene 5 extends through what is printed here as Scenes 6 and 7.
Richard Wagner4754146Tristan und Isolde — Act I1859Anonymous
TRISTAN AND ISOLDA
ACT I.
[A pavilion erected on the deck of a ship, richly hung with tapestry, quite closed in at back at first. A narrow hatchway at one side leads bellow into the cabin.]
SCENE I.
Isoldaon a couch, her face buried in the cushions.—Brangænaholding open a curtain, looks over the side of the vessel.
The Voice of a Young Sailor. (from above as if at the mast-head).Westwardsurges slip,eastwardspeeds the ship.The wind so wildblows homeward now;my Irish child,where waitest thou?Say, must our sails be weighed,Filled by thy sighs unbated?Waft us, wind strong and wild!Woe, ah woe for my child!O Irish maid!my winsome, marvellous maid!Isoldastarting up suddenly.What wight dares insult me?(she looks round in agitation).Brangæna, ho!Say, where sail we?Brangæna (at the opening).Blueish sripesare stretching along the west;swiftly sailsthe ship to shore;if restful the sea by evewe shall readily set foot on land.Isolda What land?Brangæna Cornwall's verdant strand.Isolda. Never more!To-day nor to-morrow!Brangæna. What mean you, mistress? say!(she lets the curtain fall and hastens toIsolda).Isolda (with wild gaze).O fainthearted child,false to thy fathers!Ah, where, motherhast given thy mightthat commands the wave and the tempest?O subtle artof sorcery,for mere leech-craft followed too long!Awake in me once more,power of will!Arise from thy hidingwithin my breast!Hark to my bidding,fluttering breezes!Arise and stormin boisterous strife!With furious rageand hurricane's hurdlewaken the seafrom slumbering calm,rouse up the deepto its devilish deeds!Shew it the preywhich gladly I proffer!Let it shatter this too daring shipand enshrine in ocean each shred!and woe to the lives!their wavering death-sighsI leave to ye winds as your lot.Brangæna (in extreme alarm and concern forIsolda).Out, alas!Ah woe!I've ever dreaded some ill!—Isolda! mistress!Heart of mine!What secret dost thou hide?Without a tearthou'st quitted thy father and mother,and scarce a wordof farewell to friends thou gaves;leaving home thou stood'sthow cold and still!pale and speechlesson the way,food rejecting,reft of sleep,stern and wretched,wild, disturbed;how it pains meso to see thee!friends no more we seem,being thus estranged.Make me partnerin thy pain!Tell me freelyall thy fears!Lady, thou hearest,sweetest and dearest;if for true friend you take me,your confidant O make me!Isolda Air! air!or my heart will choke!Open! open there wide!(Brangænahastily draws the centre curtains apart.)
SCENE II.
[The whole length of the ship is now seen, down to the stern, with the sea and horizon beyond. Round the mainmast sailors are ensconced, busied with ropes; beyond them in the stern are groups of knights and attendants, also seated; a little apart stands Tristan folding his arms and thoughtfully gazing out to sea; at his
feet Kurneval reclines carelessly. From the mast-head above is once more head the voice of the young sailor.]
The Young Sailor (at the mast-head invisible).The wind so wildblows homewards now;my Irish child,where waitest thou?Say, must our sails be weighted,filled by thy sighs unbated?Waft us, wind strong and wild!Woe, ah woe for my child!Isolda (whose eyes have at once soughtTristanand fixed stonily on him—gloomily).Once beloved—now removed—brave and bright,coward knight!—Death-devoted head!Death-devoted heart!—(laughing unnaturally).Think'st highly on yon minion?Brangæna (following her glance).Whom mean'st thou?Isolda. There, that herowho from mine eyesaverts his own:in shrinking shamemy gaze he shuns—Say, how hold you him?Brangæna. Mean you Sir Tristan,lady mine?Extolled by ev'ry nation,his happy country's pride,the hero of creation,—whose fame so high and wide?Isolda (jeeringly).In shrinking trepidationhis shame he seeks to hide,while to the king, his relation,he brings the corpse-like bride!—Seems it so senselesswhat I say?Go ask himself,our gracious host,dare he approach my side?No courteous heedor loyal carethis hero 'twardshis lady turns;but to meet her his heart is daunted,this knight so highly vaunted!Oh! he wotswell the cause!To the traitor go,bearing his lady's will!As my servant bound,straightway should he approach.Brangæna. Shall I beseech himto attend thee?Isolda. Nay, order him:pray, understand it:—I, Isoldado command it!
[At an imperious sign from Isolda Brangæna withdraws and timidly walks along the deck towards the stern, past the working sailors. Isolda, following her with fixed gaze, sinks back on the couch, where she remains seated during the following, her eyes still turned sternward.]
Kurneval (observing Brangæna's approach, plucks Tristan by the robe without rising.)Begare, Tristan!Message from Isolda!Tristan (starting). What is't?—Isolda?—[He quickly regains his composure as Brangæna approaches and curtsies to him.]What would my lady?I her liegeman,fain will listenwhile her loyalwoman tells her will.Brangæna. My lord, Sir Tristan,Dame Isoldawould have speechwith you at once.Tristan. Is she with travel worn?The end is near:nay ere the set of sunsight we the land.All that your mistress commands me,trust me, I shall mind.Brangæna. That you, Sir Tristango to her,—this is my lady's wish.Tristan. Where yonder verdant meadowsin distance dim are mounting,waits my sov'reignfor his mate:to lead her to his presenceI'll wait upon the princess:'tis an honorall my own.Brangæna. My lord, Sir Tristan,list to me:this one thingmy lady wills,that thou at once attend her,there where she waits for thee.Tristan. In any stationwhere I standI truly serve but her,the pearl of womanhood.If I unheedingleft the helm,how might I pilot her shipin surety to king Mark?Brangæna. Tristan, my master,why mock me thus?Seemeth my sayingobscure to you?list to my lady's words:thus, look you, she hath spoken:"Go order him,and understand it,I—Isolda—do command it."Kurvenal (springing up.) May I an answer make her?Tristan. What wouldst thou wish to reply?Kurvenal. Thus should she sayto Dame Isold':Though Cornwall's crownand England's islefor Ireland's child he chosehis own by choiceshe may not be;he brings the king his bride.A hero-knightTristan is hight!I've said, nor care to measureyour lady's high displeasure.
While Tristan seeks to stop him and the offended Brangæna turns to depart, Kurneval sings after her at the top of his voice, as she lingeringly withdraws.]
"Sir Morold toiledo'er mighty wavehis cornish tax to levy;in desert islewas dug his grave,he died of wounds so heavy.His head now hangsIn Irish lands,sole were-gild wonat English hands.Bravo, our brave Tristan!Let his tax take who can!"
[Kurvenal, driven away by Tristan's chidings, descends into the cabin. Brangæna returns in discomposure to Isolda, closing the curtains behind her, while all the men take up the chorus and are heard without.]
Knights and attendants. "His head now hangsin Irish lands,sole were-gild wonat English hands.Bravo, our brave Tristan!Let his tax take who can!"
SCENE III.
[Isolda and Brangæna alone, the curtain being again completely closed. Isolda rises with a gesture of despair and wrath. Brangæna falls at her feet.]
Brangæna. Ah! an answerso insulting!Isolda (checking herself on the brink of a fearful outburst.) How now? of Tristan?I'd know if he denies me.Brangæna. Ah! question not!Isolda. Quick, say without fear!Brangæna. With courteous phrasehe foiled my will.Isolda. But when you bade him hither?Brangæna. When I had straightwaybid him come,where'er he stood,he said to me,he truly served but thee,the pearl of womanhood;if he unheededleft the helmhow could he pilot the shipin surety to king Mark?Isolda (bitterly.) "How could he pilot the shipin surety to king Mark!"And wait on him with were-gildfrom Ireland's island won!Brangæna. As I gave out the messageand in thy very words,thus spoke his henchman Kurvenal—Isolda. Heard I not ev'ry sentence?it all has reached my ear.If thou hast learnt my disgracenow hear too whence it has grown.How scoffinglythey sing about me!Quickly could I requite them!What of the boatso bare and frail,that floated by our shore?What of the brokenstricken man,feebly extended there?Isolda's arthe gladly owned;with herbs, simplesand healing salvesthe wounds from which he sufferedshe nursed in skilful wise.Though "Tantris"The name that he took unto him,as "Tristan"anon Isolda knew him,when in the sick man's keen bladeshe perceived a notch had been madewherein did fita splinter brokenin Morold's head,the mangled tokensent home in hatred rare:this hand did find it there.I heard a voicefrom distance din;with the sword in handI came to him.Full well I wished to slay him,for Morold's death to pay him.But from his sick bedhe looked upnot at the sword,not at my arm—his eyes on mine were fastened,and his feeblenesssoftened my heart:the sword—dropped from my fingers.Though Morold's steel had maimed him,to health again I reclaimed him;when he hath homeward wendedmy emotion then might be ended.Brangæna. O wondrous! Why could I not see this?The guest I sometimehelped to nurse—?Isolda. His praise briskly they sing now:—"Bravo, our brave Tristan!"—he was that distressful man.A thousand protestationsof truth and love he prated.Hear how a knightfealty knows!—When as Tantrisunforbidden he'd left me,as Tristanboldly back he came,in stately shipfrom which in prideIreland's heiressin marriage he askedfor Mark, the Cornish monarch,his kinsman worn and old.In Morold's lifetimedared any have dreamedto offer us such an insult?For the tax-payingCornish princeto presume to court Ireland's princessAh, woe is me!I it waswho for myselfdid shape this shame!With death-dealing swordshould I have stabbed him;weakly it escaped me:—now serfdom I have shaped me.Curse him, the villain!Curse on his head!Vengeance! Death!Death for me too!Brangæna (throwing herself upon Isolde with impetuous tenderness). Isolda! lady!loved one! fairest!sweet perfection!mistress rarest!Hear me! come now,sit thee here.—(gradually draws Isolda to the couch).What a whim!what causeless railing!How came you so wrong-mindedand by mere fancy blinded?Sir Tristan gives theeCorvwall's kingdom;then, were he erst thy debtor,how could he reward thee better?His noble uncleserves he so:think too what a gifton thee he'd bestow!With honor unequalledall he's heir toat thy feet he seeks to shower,to make thee a queenly dower.(Isolda turns away).If wife he'd make theeunto king Markwhy wert thou in this wise complaining?Is he not worth thy gaining?Of royal raceand mild of mood,who passes King Markin might and power?If a noble knightlike Tristan serves him,who would not but feel elated,so fairly to be mated.Isolda (gazing vacantly before her.)Glorious knight!And I must near himloveless ever languish!How can I support such anguish?Brangæna. What's this my lady?loveless thou?(approaching coaxingly and kissing Isolda).Where lives there a manwould not love thee?Who could see IsoldaAnd not sinkat once into bondage blest?And if e'en it could beany were cold,did any magicdraw him from thee,I'd bring the false oneback to bondage,And bind him in links of love.—(secretly and confidentially, close to Isolda.)Mindest thou notthy mother's arts?Think you that shewho'd mastered thosewould have sent me o'er the sea,without assistance for thee?Isolda (darkly). My mothers' redeI mind aright,and highly her magicarts I hold:—vengeance they wreak for wrongs,rest give to wounded spirits.—Yon casket hither bear.Brangæna. It holds a balm for thee.—(She brings forward a small golden coffer, opens it, and points to its contents.)Thy mother placed inside ither subtle magic potions.There's salve for sicknessor for wounds,and antidotesfor deadly drugs.—(She takes out a bottle.)The helpfullest draughtI hold in here.Isolda. Not so, I know a better.I make a markto know it again—This draught 'tis I would drain.(Seizes flask and shows it.)Brangæna (recoiling in horror.)The draught of death!(Isoldahas risen from the sofa and now hears with increasing dread the cries of the sailors.)Voices of vhe Crew (without)."Ho! heave ho! hey!Reduce the sail!The mainsail in!Ho! heave ho! hey!"Isolda. Our journey has been swift.Woe's me! Near to the land!
SCENE IV.
(Kurvenalboisterously enters through the curtains.)
Kurvenal. Up, up, ye ladies!Look alert!Straight bestir yoy!Loiter not,—here is the land!—To dame Isoldasays the servantof Tristan,our hero true:—Behold, our flag is flying!it waveth landwards aloft:in Mark's ancestral castlemay our approach be seen.So, dame Isolda,he prays to hasten,for land straight to prepare her,that thither he may bear her.Isolda (who has at first cowered and shuddered on hearing the message, now speaks calmly and with dignity.)My greeting takeunto your lordand tell him what I say now:Should he assist to land meand to King Mark would he hand me,unmeet and unseemlywere his act,the while my pardonwas not wonfor trespass black and base:so bid him seek my grace.(Kurvenalmakes a gesture of defiance.)Now mark me well,This message take:—Nought will I yet prepare me,That he to land may bear me;I will not by him be landed,nor unto king Mark be handedere granting foregivenessand forgetfulness,which 'tis seemlyhe should seek:—for all his trespass baseI tender him my grace.Kurv. Be assured,I'll bear your words:we'll see what he will say.(He exits quickly.)
Scene V.
Isolda (hurries toBrangænaand embraces her vehemently.) Now farewell, Brangæne.Greet ev'ry one,Greet my father and mother!Brang. What now? What mean'st thou?Wouldst thou flee?And where must I then follow?Isolda (checking herself suddenly) Here remain:heard you not?Tristan will I await.—I trust in theeto aid in this:prepare the truecup of peace:thou mindest how it is made.Brang. What meanest thou?Isolda (taking a bottle from the coffer). This it is!From the flask go pourthis philtre out;you golden goblet 'twill fill.Brang. (filled with terror, receiving the flask). Trust I my wits?Isolda. Wilt thoa be true?Brang. The draught—for whom?Isolda. Him who betrayed!Brang. Tristan?Isolda Truce he'll drink with me.Brang. (throwing herself atIsolda'sfeet). O horror!Pity thy handmaid!Isolda. Pity thou me,false-hearted maid!Mindest thou notmy mother's arts?Think you that shewho'd mastered thosewould have sent thee o'er the seawithout assistance for me?A salve for sicknessdoth she offerand antidotesfor deadly drugsfor deepest griefand woe supremegave she the draught of death.Let Death now give her thanks.Brang. (scarcely able to control herself). O deepest grief!Isolda. Now wilt thou obey?Brang. O woe supreme!Isolda. Wilt thou be true?Brang. The draughtKurv. (entering) Sir Tristan!(Brangærarises, terrified and confused.Isoldastrives with immense effort to control herself.)Isolda (to Kurvenal). Sir Tristan may approach.
SCENE VI.
[Kurvenal retires again. Brangæna, almost beside herself, turns up the stage. Isolda, mustering all her powers of resolution, walks slowly and with dignity towards the sofa, by the head of which she supports herself, turning her eyes firmly towards the entrance.)
Tristanenters, and pauses respectfully at the entrance.)
Tris. Demand, ladywhat you will.Isolda. While knowing notwhat my demand is,wert thou afraidstill to fulfil it,fleeing my presence thus?Tris. HonorHeld me in awe.Isolda. Scant honor hast thoushown unto me;for, unabashed,withheldest thouobedience unto my call.Tris. Obedience 'twasforbade me to come.Isolda. But little I owethy lord, methinksif he allowsill mannersunto his own promised bride.Tris. In our landit is the lawthat he who fetcheshome the brideshould stay afar from her.Isolda. On what account?Tris. 'Tis the custom.Isolda. Being so carefulmy lord Tristan,another customcan you not learn?Of enemies friends makefor evil acts amends make.Tris. Who is my foe?Isolda. Find in thy fearsBlood-guiltgets between us.Tris. That was absolved.Isolda. Not between us.Tris. In open field,'fore all the folkour old feud was abandoned.Isolda. 'T was not thereI held Tantris hidwhen Tristan was laid low.He stood there brawny,bright and brave;but in his truceI took no part:my tongue its silence had learnt.When in chambered stillnesssick he laywith the sword I stoodbefore him, stern;silent—my lips,motionless—my hand.But that which my handand lips had once vowed,I swore in stealth to adhere to:lo! now my desire I'm near to.Trist. What hast thou sworn?Isolda (quickly). Vengeance for Morold!Trist. (quietly). Mindst thou that?Isolda (animated). Dare you to flout me?—Was he not my betrothed,that noble Irish knight?For his sword a blessing I sought;for me only I fought.When he was murderedno honour fell.In that heartfelt miserymy vow was framed;if no man remained to right it,I, a maid, must needs requite it.—Weak and maimed,when might was mine,why at thy death did I pause?Thou shalt know the secret cause.—Thy hurts I tendedthat, when sickness ended,thou shouldst fall by some man,as Isolda's revenge should plan.But now attemptthy fate to foretell me?if their friendship all men do sell thee,what foe can seek to fell thee?Trist. (pale and gloomy, offers her his sword). If thou so lovedst this lord,then lift once more my sword,nor from thy purpose refrain;let the weapon not fail again.Isolda. Put up thy swordwhich once I swung,when vengeful rancourmy bosom wrung,when thy masterful eyesdid ask me straightwhether King Markmight seek me for mate.The sword harmless decended—Drink, let our strife be ended!(IsoldabeckonsBrangæna.She trembles and hesitates to obey.Isoldacommands her with a more imperious gesture.Brangænasets about preparing the drink).Voices of the Crew (without). Ho! heave ho! hey!Reduce the sail!The foresail in!Ho! heave ho! hey!Trist. (starting from his gloomy brooding). Where are we?Isolda. Near to shore.Tristan, is warfare ended?Hast not a word to offer?Trist. (darkly). Concealment's mistressmakes me silent:I know what she conceals,conceal, too, more than she knows.Isolda. Thy silence noughtbut feigning I deem.Friendship wilt thou still deny?(Renewed cries of the Sailors.)(At an impatient sign fromIsolda Brangænahands her the filled cup).Isolda (advancing with the cup toTristan,who gazed immovably into her eyes).Thou hear'st the cry?The shore's in sight:we must ere long(with slight scorn.)stand by King Mark together.Sailors (without). Haul the warp!Anchor down!Tris. (starting wildly). Down with the anchor!Her stern to the stream!The sails a-weather the mast!(He takes the cup fromIsolda.)I know the Queenof Ireland well,unquestioned areher magic arts:the balsam cured mewhich she brought;now bid me quaff the cup,that I may quite recover.Heed too my all-atoning oath,which in return I tender.—Tristan's honor—highest truth!Tristan's anguish—brave distress!Traitor spirit,dawn-illumined!Endless trouble'sonly truce!Oblivion's kindly draught,with rapture thou art quaff'd!(He lifts the cup and drinks.)Isolda. Betrayed e'en here?I must halve it!—(She wrests the sup from his hand.)Betrayer, I drink to thee![She drinks, and then throws away the cup. Both, seized with shuddering, gaze with deepest emotion, but immovable demeanor, into one another's eyes, in which the expression of defiance to death fades and melts into the glow of passion. Trembling seizes them, they convulsively clutch their hearts and pass their hands over their brows. Their glances again seek to meet, sink in confusion, and once more turn with growing longing upon one another.]Isolda (with trembling voice). Tristan!Tris. (overpowered). Isolda!Isolda (sinking upon his breast). Traitor beloved!Tris. Woman divine!(He embraces her with ardor. They remain in a silent embrace.)All the Men (without). Hail! Hail!Hail to our monarch!Hail to Mark, the king!Brang. (who, filled with confusion and horror, has leaned over the side with averted face, now turns to behold the pair locked in their locked embrace, and rushes to the front, wringing her hands in despair).Woe's me! Woe's me!Endless mis'ryI have wroughtinstead of death!Dire the deedof my dull fond heart:it cries aloud to heav'n!(They start from their embrace.)Tris. (bewildered). What droubled dreamof Tristan's honor?Isolda. What troubled dreamOf Isolda's shame?Tris. Have I then lost thee?Isolda. Have I repulsed thee?Tris. Fraudulent magic,framing deceit?Both. Languishing passion,longing and growing,love ever yearning,loftiest glowing!Rapture confess'drides in each breast!Tristan! Isolda!Isolda! Tristan!World, I can shun theemy love is won me!Thou'rt my thought, all above:highest delight of love!
SCENE VII.
[The curtains are now drawn wide apart; the whole ship is covered with knights and sailors, who with shouts of joy, make signs over towards the shore which is now seen to be quite near, with castle-crowned cliffs. Tristan and Isolda remain absorbed in mutual contemplation, perceiving nothing that is passing.]
Brang. (to the women, who at her bidding ascend from below). Quick—the mantle!the royal robe!—(rushing betweenTristanandIsolda.)Up, hapless ones!See where we are!(She places the royal mantle onIsolda,who notices nothing.)All the Men. Hail! Hail!Hail our monarch!Hail to Mark the king!Kurv. (advancing gaily). Hail, Tristan,knight of good hap!Behold King Mark approaching,in a barkwith brave attendance.Gladly he stems the tide,coming to seek his bride.Tris. (looking up in bewilderment). Who comes?Kurv. The king 'tis.Tris. What king mean you?(Kurvenalpoints over the side.Tristangazes stupefied at the shore).All the Men (waving their hats). Hail to King Mark! All hail!Isolda (bewildered). What is't Brangæna?What are those cries?Brang. Isolda—mistress!Compose thyself!Isolda Where am I? living?What was that draught?Brang. (despairingly). The love-potion!Isolda (staring with horror atTristan). Tristan!Tris. Isolda!Isolda. Must I live, then?(falls fainting upon his breast).Brang. (to the women). Look to your lady!Tris. O rapture fraught with cunning!O fraud with bliss o'er-running!All the Men (in a general bust of acclamation).Hail to King Mark!Cornwall, hail![People have clambered over the ship's side, others have extended a bridge, and the aspect of all indicates the immediate arrive of the expected ones, as the curtain falls.]