The Shape of Things to Come

Imagery and Idea in Wagner’s Mines of Falun

 

Peter Bassett

 

The Mines of Falun (Die Bergwerke zu Falun) is a prose draft written by Wagner in March 1842. No music was composed for it. Wagner prepared the scenario on commission for the Bohemian composer Josef Dessauer who had asked specifically for a libretto that was similar in style to Der fliegende Holländer. Chronologically, it falls between Holländer and Tannhäuser and shares dramatic features with both and with other works still to come. It occupies a key position on the Wagnerian timeline. The sketch was eventually found in 1905 amongst the papers of Wagner’s Dresden assistant August Röckel, who may have intended to set it to music.[1]

 

It is based on a short story by E. T. A. Hoffmann, Wagner’s favourite author in his teens and an associate of both his stepfather Ludwig Geyer (they were members of the same theatrical troupe in Dresden) and uncle, Adolf Wagner, whose correspondence with Hoffmann survives. Hoffmann was the father of several literary movements including surrealism and the supernatural and horror schools of writing, and was one of the most influential literary figures of the nineteenth century.

 

The story is set in the mining town of Falun in Sweden, and concerns a young miner Elis Froebom (Wagner uses only his first name) who had given up his former profession as a seafarer because of his distress on returning from a long voyage to find that his mother had died during his absence (a precursor to Parsifal’s pain on hearing of Herzeleide’s death during his absence). Elis had had a dream about wonderful riches hidden deep in the earth and, in that dream, had met a woman of unearthly beauty (an anticipation of Tannhäuser’s encounter with the goddess of love in the Venusberg). He knows that when sailors have dreams of riches on the seabed, these are premonitions of impending death at sea. Dreams foreshadow tragic events in Holländer, Lohengrin, Die Walküre and Götterdämmerung.

 

Elis has seen a lovely, gracious girl - an angel he calls her – named Ulla, on his return to land (the Dutchman refers to Senta as his angel). The ghostly form of an old miner had also appeared to Elis while he was in the mine shaft, telling him to renounce all thoughts of love if he wished to see the treasures of the mine (a precursor of Alberich?).[2] The old miner is identified as Torbern, who had been entombed by an avalanche a hundred years earlier but still appeared from time to time with strangers from distant places (like another Titurel). Momentarily, Elis is encouraged to think of returning to sea, but thoughts of Ulla change his mind. Another seafarer called Joens also has his heart set on Ulla, and there is some confusion as to where her affections lie. The first Act ends with Joens asking Ulla’s father for her hand in marriage, much to her surprise and Elis’s anguish. Like a combination of the Dutchman and Erik, Elis believes he has been betrayed; the old miner’s warning was true.

 

The second Act takes place deep in the dimly lit mineshaft (shades of Nibelheim). Elis tries to summon up the ghostly miner Torbern, rather like Caspar calling up Samiel in Der Freischütz or Wotan summoning Erda, and vows never to return to the sunlight again but to spend his days with the Mountain Queen - again like Tannhäuser. ‘Those above are false and treacherous’ says Elis, anticipating the words of the Rhinedaughters in the closing moments of Das Rheingold: ‘Goodness and truth dwell but in the deep: false and base are those who dwell up above.’ The Mountain Queen and her throne appear in luminous splendour, surrounded by crystalline forms that seem to be maidens, embracing in dance. Suddenly the voice of Ulla is heard from above, assuring Elis that she is his. The vision disappears and the mineshaft returns to its original state – just as Venus and her cohorts vanish with the mention of Elisabeth’s name. Ulla and the miners descend into the shaft and locate Elis, telling him that Joens has withdrawn his suit and that he, Elis, is Ulla’s one and only beloved. 

 

The third Act, back on the surface, opens with preparations for the wedding festivities. Elis appears in his finery, like Walther on the day of the song contest. But he seems distracted and speaks about strange things underground where, he says, the story of their lives is engraved on a precious red stone. Ulla grows increasingly alarmed as he talks about their hearts being fused with the strange veins of the stone. He is determined to get the stone for her, and ignores her anxious pleas to stay and not to go into the mine. He tears himself away and disappears into the mineshaft while she weeps bitterly.

 

Joyous wedding music is heard in a juxtaposition of dread and celebration similar to that in the Dutchman, Lohengrin and Gőtterdämmerung. A procession of miners arrives in their festal finery, and with the townspeople following with flags and insignia, anticipating the festival meadow scene in Die Meistersinger. The bride, full of foreboding, is led out in her wedding dress and, while everyone waits for the groom, there is dancing and singing. Suddenly a terrific crash is heard, followed by muffled thunder. The mineshaft in the background has subsided and the entrance has caved in! Frantic efforts on the part of the miners are to no avail and Elis is declared lost, while Ulla sinks down as if dead.

 

The major difference between Wagner’s scenario and Hofmann’s original story is that the latter ends with a scene fifty years later. Ulla, by then an old woman, has been pretty much forgotten by the people of Falun. Miners clearing a passage between two shafts uncover the body of a young man lying in vitriolated water. When the body is brought to the surface, it appears petrified and perfectly preserved, with wedding clothes intact and even flowers on the breast. The old woman, who has come every St John’s day (Johannistag) to gaze into the mine, weep and wring her hands, sees at last her beloved Elis. Like Isolde, she breathes her last, cradling her bridegroom’s body.  

 

Wagner decided not to dramatize this final scene, which would indeed have been difficult to tack on in a convincing way. But many who read his scenario expressed surprise that he hadn’t included what they thought was the main point of Hoffmann’s story. The discovery of the preserved body of a miner at the Falun mine was in fact a real event that had happened in 1719.[3] For Wagner, the dramatically important points lay elsewhere. But it does seem that the writings of Hoffmann made a lasting impression on him, and that many of the vivid images we associate with his works – eerily lit subterranean caverns, alluring temptresses, the competing attractions of sacred and profane love that send young men mad, the cruel juxtaposition of joy and tragedy, even the renunciation of love as the price of worldly riches – have their origins in the weird and wonderful world of E.T.A. Hoffmann.