The Perfect Wagnerite: A Commentary on the Niblung's Ring — Background and Themes

Wagner as Revolutionary Thinker

Shaw places Wagner squarely in the tradition of European radicalism. He notes that The Ring was begun in 1848, the year of revolutions, and that its central conflict—between the gods who rule by contract and the dwarfs who labor underground—mirrors the class struggle. Shaw emphasizes that Wagner was not merely an artist but a 'revolutionist' who sought to dramatize the contradictions of capitalist society. The gold of the Rhine, he argues, is 'the capital which is the foundation of modern society,' and the ring itself represents the power that corrupts. Shaw's reading is deliberately provocative: he insists that Wagner's music dramas are 'political tracts' and that their true subject is 'the passing away of the present order.'

The Limits of Love as a Solution

Shaw devotes considerable attention to Wagner's treatment of love, which he sees as both central and inadequate. He contrasts the passionate duet in Die Walküre—which he describes as brought 'to a point at which the conventions of our society demand the precipitate fall of the curtain'—with the cooler, more companionate love in Die Meistersinger. Shaw argues that Wagner, like Shelley, ultimately fails to make love a convincing answer to the world's problems. He points out that Siegfried's awakening of Brünnhilde is followed by her 'fierce revolt' and his 'manly transports,' a scene that Shaw calls 'an experience which it is much better never to have passed through.' This skepticism about romantic love as a panacea is central to Shaw's critique of Wagner's idealism.

The Problem of the Ending

Shaw is notably critical of the final opera of the cycle, Götterdämmerung. He argues that its operatic conventions—the spectacular immolation, the return of the Rhine maidens—contradict the philosophical coherence of the earlier works. In the preface to the German edition, he admits that his original explanation of this inconsistency was 'inadequate' and that he has since come to see it as reflecting Wagner's response to the political disappointments of the 1850s and 1860s. Shaw suggests that the complexity of the Paris Commune of 1871 demonstrated that 'the passing away of the present order was going to be a much more complicated business' than Wagner had imagined when he wrote Siegfried. This section shows Shaw at his most analytical, wrestling with the tension between Wagner's revolutionary intentions and his operatic instincts.

Shaw's Rhetorical Strategy

Shaw's prose is itself a performance. He writes with the confidence of a man who knows he is right, deploying wit and sarcasm to skewer his opponents. He compares Wagner's insistence on sensuous concreteness to Dr. Johnson kicking a stone to refute Berkeley, and he mocks the idea that 'All's Love; yet all's Law' by noting that Browning puts this sentiment in the mouth of David, 'of all people!' Shaw's tone is that of a polemicist, not a neutral scholar: he is out to convert his readers to his view of Wagner as a fellow socialist. Yet he is also careful to ground his arguments in specific details of the libretto and the music, as when he observes that Tristan und Isolde is 'a poem of destruction and death' while Die Meistersinger contains 'not a single bar of love music that can be described as passionate.' This combination of ideological fervor and close reading makes The Perfect Wagnerite a distinctive work of criticism.

Shaw's commentary is best approached as a provocative essay in its own right, rather than as a guide to Wagner's intentions. Readers will find themselves arguing with Shaw as much as learning from him, which is precisely the effect he intended. His insistence on reading The Ring as a political allegory may seem dated, but his insights into the relationship between art and society remain sharp. For those willing to engage with his arguments, The Perfect Wagnerite offers a bracing example of how to take opera seriously as a form of thought.

Reading The Perfect Wagnerite, I found myself lingering on Shaw’s idea of love as a rebellious force, not a comfort. That prickling feeling—of something familiar turning strange—returned when I picked up Musical Memories — A Closer Reading. It’s softer, less argumentative, yet touches the same ache. Both left me sitting quietly afterward, thinking about old songs differently.