As daylight breaks Wagner indulges in one of the effects he was fond of at this period.  The reveille is sounded from a turret, and an answering call comes from a distance; and the two parties trumpet it in alternation until every one is awakened.  It is a quasi-musical effect only:  there is no invention:  the trumpet chords serve the purpose and nothing more.  He never reverted to this rather bald method of filling up time while his people are being got on the stage:  compare this passage with, for instance, Hagen’s call in The Dusk of the Gods.  The latter is rich and full of picturesque music:  it means something and is, in fact, an effective piece in a concert-room.  Or take the watchman with his cow-horn in the Mastersingers; the music is redolent of the old world; it impresses the imagination more than an entry in Pepys—­“the watchman calling two of the morning and a thick snow falling.”  In the Lohengrin days his method still requires these longueurs, these dry patches:  later his mastery over his material enabled him to deal his theatrical and his musical stroke at the same time.  As knights and retainers flock in, a long and elaborate chorus is sung—­a musical, not a dramatic, chorus, almost as much in the Rienzi manner as in the manner of Tannhaeuser.  It is curious to observe how cautious and tentative Wagner was at this stage of his growth.  He was still groping, seeing only very dimly the destination he would reach by the way he was taking. Lohengrin, had he followed the plan he would certainly have adopted ten years later, would have been terser, more closely dramatic, and would have made only a short opera; there would have been fewer set numbers and a much smaller quantity of the magnificent music.  The whole idea, I have already said, is not a dramatic one, but a musical one; and the advance on the Dutchman lies in the skill with which the musical opportunities seem to grow out of the drama and are not pressed into it.  In this respect it is hardly an advance on Tannhaeuser; indeed three of the great ensembles have not an adequate dramatic motive.  That at the end of the first act, splendid music though it is, is a quite operatic finale, so conventional that only when rendered in the conventional operatic manner does it sound and appear impressive.  It becomes, when done in this manner, a kind of dance, for towards the finish all the crowd should form in long lines and go twining about in a ballet figure.  In this opening chorus of knights and retainers in the Second Act (scene ii) the musical inspiration is intense; but words are repeated as irrationally as in a Handel oratorio chorus; and the same is the case in the bridal procession music.  Wagner still had a hankering after imposing spectacle and brilliant choral writing.  That bridal procession and chorus are, of course, supremely beautiful music:  music and spectacle were aimed at and achieved, not music and drama, in the later Wagnerian sense.