Many other points must be left until later.  I wish for the present to give a notion of Wagner’s powers at the time he wrote the earlier portions of Siegfried.  Had the whole opera been equal to these portions it might have ranked with the Valkyrie.  But though his powers were not yet on the wane, as we get on we shall see that the subject was getting a little stale.  He had not the smallest hope of seeing his work performed.  If ever a man wrote purely for posterity it was Wagner at this period; and though the general inspiration remained as deep and powerful as ever, we cannot be surprised if the continuous white heat of the Valkyrie was checked and broken very often.  The surprising thing is that so circumstanced he achieved so much.

IV

The story of the next Act is so simple that I shall deal with it and the music at the same time.  Near Hate-cave black Alberich, who first steals the gold, ceaselessly watches:  he cannot gain the gold, but its attraction is irresistible.  So he watches while we hear the snarling music associated with him; and we can feel all the old-time horror of the malignant semi-deities of the black forests and streams and caves.  Mime and he dispute angrily:  Siegfried is about to slay the dragon, the “Wurm,” and the question is who is to have the gold.  The music is all of the sort that Wagner alone after Weber could write—­wild, full at times of frenzied energy, full also, if so forced a phrase may be permitted, of black colour—­black-green made audible as was the thick darkness that might be felt made to be felt by Handel.  Anger cannot be directly expressed in music; but these dreary snarling noises from the orchestra and the peculiar use made of the human voice—­a use to be referred to later—­enable Wagner to indicate it indirectly in a way effective on the stage. (We may note once again the contrast between two successive scenes—­the brilliance, the straightforward vigour of the close of Act I, and these tortuous phrases at the beginning of Act II.) Day begins to lighten, and Siegfried enters; he reclines on a green bank and hearkens to a bird carolling amidst the rustling branches.  He tries to imitate its notes on a reed cut with his sword, that emits strange noises; and at last, annoyed by his lack of success, he petulantly blows a blast on his horn.  This arouses Fafner, who grumbles and discloses his hiding-place; and presently an extraordinary reptile, one the like of which never was on sea or land, comes forth to destroy the intruder.  Siegfried (like the ordinary audience) seems disposed to laugh, but when the monster opens its giant jaws and sends out flames and steam, and red lights begin to glare in its eyes, he sees serious matters are at hand.  He prepares for combat, and the battle is terrific, if not very convincing.  At last, however, he penetrates the odd brute in a vital part; it rolls over and makes dying prophecies; at the last it asks its conqueror’s name and, having learnt it, groans that name once and dies.  Siegfried thereupon penetrates into the cave and returns with the hoard; then he throws himself once more upon the green bank.