Alberichcrouched, waiting near the Dragon's cave, having always known, even as the Gods knew, that the day would come when even Fafner, the Dragon, would meet his match.
When that time came, Alberich meant to possess himself again of the gold, for he felt capable of fighting any one but the Dragon.
As Siegfried and the Mime reached the part of the forest where the Dragon kept guard, it seemed to be black, black night and a storm was brewing. The scene was very frightful, indeed. The thunder muttered, showing that Donner was somewhere about, using his hammer. While Alberich, imp of the underworld, sat watching and waiting, he saw a bluish light, such as had appeared when Erda spoke to Wotan. Alberich started up in alarm.
"Can that light mean the coming of him who is toslay Fafner?" he wondered, as the bluish radiance grew brighter and brighter. Then the storm abated and the light died out. Next, the Wanderer entered the place before the Dragon's cave, and although it was very dark such a bright light seemed to come from him that Alberich recognized Wotan.
"What are you doing here, thief," cried the black revengeful spirit, "you who took the Rheingold? Once more let me gain possession of the ring and I'll come against all Walhall and thy celestial world."
"Peace! Thy rage means naught to me," the Wanderer replied. "Listen, and I will tell thee what thou wouldst like to know. The Mime brings hither a boy who shall kill the Dragon. The Mime plans to win the gold and the ring. I may not help the boy: I may not serve those whom I love; but if thou wouldst warn the Dragon, very likely he would give thee the treasure for thy reward. I'll call the Dragon to thee," he said, and stepped to the mouth of the cave.
"Fafner, Fafner, awake, thou Dragon!" Alberich trembled with fear when an awful voice roared in answer:
"Who wakes me from my sleep?"
"A friend," Wotan, the Wanderer, replied, bending his head toward the cave and listening.
Alberich, taking courage, listened too, and called:
"A foe is near who comes to snatch the Rheingold and the ring from thee."
"Then food is near at hand," the Dragon roared in his softest voice.
"Listen," Alberich persisted. "If thou wilt give the ring to me, I will help thee." The Dragon yawned terrifically:
"Don't trouble yourself. I will look after my hoardand my ring." Even if he had whispered, he could have been heard a mile away. As it was, he spoke in his loudest voice, although he was sleepy, and Alberich nearly fainted with terror.
"Thou hast failed with the Dragon, Alberich," the Wanderer said, smiling, "but I will give thee one word more of advice: Make terms with the Mime. Attack him; perhaps thou wilt have better luck with thy kind!" In a flash of lightning, the Wanderer mounted his magic steed and disappeared. When he had looked after him for a moment, Alberich slipped into the Dragon's cave, and as he disappeared, the day slowly dawned, and all the scene grew bright in the morning light.
Just at the dawn of day, Siegfried, and the Mime reached the glade before the Dragon's cave. The enchanted sword hung at Siegfried's belt.
"Now we have arrived where the Dragon lives," the Mime said to Siegfried.
"Ah?" the youth said, sitting down to rest under a lime tree. He looked curiously about him. "Is it time to be afraid?" he asked, anxiously. "Because if so, I feel nothing yet—although maybe I do, and do not know it?"
"Oh, you'll know it fast enough," the Mime assured him. "In that cave there lies the Dragon. His great hairy jaws will open and swallow thee at one gulp." But Siegfried sat under the lime tree and asked if that were really true. It interested him greatly.
"But one thing I tell thee," he cried: "If this thing which you have told me be not true, we'll part companyat once. I'm not to be fooled. I have come here to learn something—how to be afraid—and if I don't learn it as thou hast said, I'll teach thee to stop lying."
"When, out of the Dragon's mouth, a poisoned foam pours, which will kill thee if any drop gets upon thee, I guess thou wilt shake a little. Thy body and thy bones would melt if that stuff touched thee."
"Well, I'll give him plenty of room, to be sure," Siegfried replied.
"His great tail will sweep about and if he should catch thy limbs in it, thy bones would be crushed like glass."
"That sounds very bad; but tell me if this thing has a heart which is placed where other hearts are placed?"
"Truly—a cold and cruel heart."
"Oh, as to that, I am not concerned, but if he has any heart, Nothung will slip into it. Now come, old babbler, is this the thing that is to teach me fear—this thing that spits a bit and lashes about with a clumsy old tail?"
"Laugh away, laugh away! But I have no mind to stay so near, so I shall go away and lie down beside a stream to sleep. Watch thou there, and have a care for thyself." So saying the Mime went off a little way and laid himself down. When he had gone, Siegfried stretched himself beneath the lime tree to listen to the birds' song. He cut himself a reed and tried to answer the birds, but could not. As he rested there in the bright day, he had lonely thoughts of his mother and his father, and longed for some one whom he could love. While in the midst of these musings, he looked up and there, with his frightful head resting upon the knoll, was Fafner, the Dragon. He was giving vent to a terrific yawn, and made such an awful sound that Siegfried regarded him in amazement, but suddenly burst out laughing.
"Hello! Are you the beauty who is to teach me to be afraid? Well, well!" and he laughed again. The Dragon ceased to yawn and stared hard at Siegfried.
"You are a pretty plaything," Siegfried continued. "Such a nice, rosy little mouth. I fancy you must be the fellow who was to scare me to death. Thou art a beauty, surely!"
"Who is it?" the Dragon roared suddenly.
"Ho! And a sweet voice—like the birds," Siegfried grinned.
"Since my mouth is so rosy, let me see how my teeth will feel when set in a juicy morsel like you," said the Dragon and he spouted venomous vapours, stretching his horrid jaws, while Siegfried nimbly sprang to one side to avoid the poisonous steam. Standing watchful, with his sword, he tried to thrust it at the Dragon's tail, but Fafner roared and swished his tail away, and prepared to strike with his body; but to do this he had to raise himself upon high, and in so doing exposed his breast. Instantly Siegfried plunged Nothung into his heart, and the Dragon rolled over upon his side with a groan which shook the trees to their very roots. Siegfried left his sword in the wound and sprang to one side.
"Oh," groaned the Dragon, with a sigh like a weary earthquake. His blood spouted upon Siegfried and burnt his hand like fire. As the blood soused him, a little bird sang.
"It is almost as if that little bird was speaking to me," he said, pausing and looking up into the trees. "Can it be the Dragon's burning blood has some virtue which makes me understand the bird's song?"
"Siegfried now owns all the Nibelung's hoard which lies hidden in the cave. There will be found the Tarnhelm and the ring, which will give him power over all the earth," so the bird sang, and Siegfried understood.
"I thank thee, dear birdling, for thy counsel. I shall follow thy call." He turned toward the cave and entered it in search of the treasures. At that moment, the Mime came into the glade, and Alberich, in the dark of the cavern's mouth, slipped out past Siegfried, and the Mime and he came face to face, while the dead Dragon lay between them.
"Thou sly and slippery knave," Alberich began pleasantly to address the Mime; "thou wouldst have the ring and the gold, eh?" He glared viciously at the little imp of Nibelheim.
The Mime tried to pacify the evil creature, but Alberich, who had waited long, would listen to nothing. Before they could fall a-fighting, however, Siegfried came from the cave bearing the ring and the Tarnhelm.
He slipped the ring upon his finger and hung the Tarnhelm at his belt.
"I know not what these things are for," he murmured to himself, "but I have taken them because the little bird gave me that advice." Unseen behind him, Alberich slipped into the cave to fetch the treasure. At that same moment the little bird sang:
"Let Siegfried wait to see what the Mime will do. Listen and learn and have a care."
"Good!" the youth cried. "I am the one to take advice." As the Mime approached him, Siegfried stood steadily, one foot upon the knoll where the Dragon had lain, and watched the imp.
"Ah, my lovely boy, hast thou now learned to fear?" he said, in an ingratiating tone.
"Not yet, Mime!" Siegfried said, seriously.
"Well, at least thou art weary, so drink of this and rest a while," and the Mime drew forth his bottled broth. "It will give thee new courage." But Siegfried, filled with loathing for the little man, felled him with a single stroke of his sword. Thus the Mime was slain, as Wotan had said, by one who knew no fear.
After that, the youth picked up the Mime's body and threw it into the cave where the treasure lay still, and with a great effort he tugged at the Dragon's body till he had rolled it near, and in turn he dumped the Dragon into the cavern. After looking down into the darkness, he sighed and turned back to the green glade.
"I am truly tired," he said. "I think I can now stretch myself beneath this tree and rest." So saying he laid himself down and turned his face to the sky.
"Ah, little birdling," he said, "Here am I, so lonely, without father nor mother nor any one to love me. I wish thy clear voice would speak again to me and tell me of some fond friend." The bird trilled:
music
music
[Listen]
"Thou hast great treasure and power from this time forth; still thou art not happy without love and one to share thy fortune. I will tell thee then of a lovely bride who lies guarded round by fire in a rocky forest fastness. She sleeps and waits for one who shall dare the flames for love. The glorious maiden's name is Brünnhilde."
"Oh, song of joy," Siegfried cried, starting up. "Now indeed thou hast made me happy."
"Only he who has never known fear may wake her," the little bird sang.
"Have no fear, dear bird. I have known no fear and Brünnhilde shall be mine. Lead on, lead on, dear bird. Lead me to the rock where this dear maid lies and I shall know no fear." The little bird rose beside him, and circling a few times above his head, took a straight flight and led the way while Siegfried followed.
WhileSiegfried was on his way, led by the little bird, the Wanderer was seeking Erda, who had given to him Brünnhilde and his eight other warrior daughters. Erda was Wisdom, and the Wanderer sought her at the base of a wild and rock-made mountain. It was night and astorm was roaring all about. Wotan arrived at the mouth of a cave and called "Erda!"
"Waken," he cried, "I must waken thee from thy long sleep." The bluish light shone steadily and slowly Erda rose. She was covered with hoar frost and her iridescent garment shimmered as if made of ice.
"Erda, a youth has been found who knows no fear. He has slain Fafner. He is governed only by love, and I am about to resign my Godhood in his favour. Wisdom has been sleeping and the Gods have lost their power. Wisdom and the Gods must at last give way to love." Having heard this, Erda slowly sank back to her sleep. Wotan, the Wanderer, leaned gravely against the face of the rock, waiting for Siegfried. Suddenly a little bird fluttered along, dropped to the ground, and disappeared.
Siegfried, coming up afterward, saw the flight and disappearance of his birdling, so knew that his journey was ended and that Brünnhilde was near.
"I must find the burning rock, without further help," he said. "I think the little bird would not have gone, if it had not left me very near the place." He looked impatiently about, and went toward the mountain. In passing the Wanderer, who stood watching him, he paused and asked which way he should take.
"Is there not a rock surrounded by flames, near by? And is there not a maiden?" He told the Wanderer his story; and as the old man did not speak, Siegfried became curious to know who he was. He looked closely into his face, questioned him about his queer hat, and suddenlysaw that the strange old man had but one eye. He mocked at him, in his youth and strength.
Wotan, being a God and truly loving Siegfried, spoke gently to him, but the youth was defiant and mocked him again. The Wanderer became enraged and declared that Siegfried should never pass the flames that divided him from Brünnhilde.
"It is only he who fears naught," the God cried. "Look and say if thou art he," He pointed his spear toward the mountain top and the flames broke forth, burning fiercely.
"Ah," Siegfried cried; "it is there the lovely Brünnhilde sleeps! Farewell, old man. I go to waken her and claim my bride." But the Wanderer again halted the youth.
"That sword of thine has once been broken on my spear. I shall break it again, wild boy. No sword has ever yet withstood the shock of my spear. Thou canst not go!" He plunged his spear to bar Siegfried's way, but Siegfried stepped back and regarded him closely.
"If this sword of mine has once been broken on thy spear, then thou art the destroyer of my father—for this sword is Nothung. Thus, with one blow I avenge him." So saying, he struck once at the Wanderer's spear, and shattered it. The Wanderer stepped back, knowing then that the end of the Eternals was at hand. Thunder crashed and lightning splintered across the sky and sprung from the spear to the mountain-top.
Presently, the flaming mountain height seemed to descend nearer to Siegfried, and putting his horn to his lips he blew a great blast and plunged into the fire.
He was soon out of sight, but gradually the fire died down, and the red cloud hovering over all became less lurid in its reflection. Gradually the cloud dissolvedtill naught was left but a beautiful rosy mist. With the passing of the mist, Brünnhilde could be seen, still lying on the mound where Wotan had laid her, and she was still covered with her helmet and the beautiful shining shield.
The fir tree spread itself above Brünnhilde, and she shone in her brilliant armour. Siegfried rose above a mound, and stood looking at her, spellbound. Near at hand, he saw a beautiful steed, standing as if asleep: it was Grane, who had been enchanted along with his mistress.
Gently lifting Brünnhilde's shield he thought himself to be gazing upon a young man.
"I think his helmet must press too heavily upon his brow!" Siegfried murmured, and lifted it. The beautiful hair of Brünnhilde streamed down, and Siegfried paused in admiration; but still he thought her a man.
"I think his armour presses," he whispered. "I will lift it." He carefully cut the fastenings with his sword and lifting the breast-plate he saw the form of Brünnhilde lying shrouded in the soft folds of her gown. She was so beautiful that at last he was afraid.
"Oh, how shall I awaken her?" he cried, and stooping he kissed her lips, as she opened her eyes. At the same moment, Grane, the horse, moved and began quietly to graze.
Brünnhilde looked about her, saw her dear horse, and the sun and the glory of the day, and lastly beheld Siegfried who had delivered her from the enchantment of Wotan.
"Is it thou who hast gone through flame for me?" she asked.
"It is I who will guard thee forever," he cried, embracing her tenderly. Knowing that she loved him, the only fear he had ever known, vanished. Thus mortal love overthrew the powers of evil, and of the Gods, as well.
Norns (3).Fricka.Brünnhilde.Gutrune.Waltraute.
Wotan.Donner.Alberich.Woglinde.Wellgunde.Flosshilde.
On theValkyries' rock, where Siegfried woke Brünnhilde, the Norns were gathering. The first Norn was old and tall and lay where Brünnhilde had lain—under the spreading fir tree. The second was younger and also tall, and she was stretched upon a rock in front of the cave. The third was the youngest, and she, too, was tall, and she sat upon a rock below the mountain peak, and all were clothed in dark and veil-like draperies.
They were Erda's daughters, and were called the Fates. Behind them shone the firelight which guarded the rock and it flared fitfully above the peaks.
The first Norn unwound from her waist a golden rope and tied one end of it to a branch of the fir tree. While one wove into this rope the destinies of the world, another clipped it, and the three sang the story of creation. They sang of the ash tree, of Wotan and the Eternals; and as they sang they threw the rope from branch to branch, weaving and clipping, weaving and clipping. They sang the story of Brünnhilde, of the Rheingold, of all the strife in the world, and of the destinies of the Gods and mortals.
After a while the dawn began to glow, the sun to rise, and the fire-glow behind the mountain to die out.
On the Third Day, Brünnhilde and Siegfried had entered the cave; then when the sun rose and night was dispelled, they came out, Siegfried dressed in Brünnhilde's armour and Brünnhilde leading her good horse, Grane.
"Now, I must be gone and do valorous deeds, dear Brünnhilde," Siegfried said to her. Taking the Nibelung ring from his finger, he put it upon hers. "Keep thou this ring and thou art all powerful and it shall keep our faith, truly."
In return Brünnhilde gave him her horse, Grane.
"Once he mounted above the clouds while now he can only pace the earth; but that he will do bravely for thee, my Siegfried," she assured him. The parting was full of promises and love for each other. Siegfried and Grane disappeared below the cliff, while Brünnhilde, standing upon a little mountain height, looked down at them and bade Siegfried a loving farewell.
WhileSiegfried was on his way to search for the glory suited to such a hero, a banquet was being held in thehall of the Gibichungs, a race of mortals living on the banks of the river Rhein.
Gunther and his sister Gutrune were the rulers, and they sat upon a rude throne, side by side, while the banquet table was spread before them.
At one side sat Hagen, the half brother of Gunther, half a Nibelung—in short, the son of Alberich. Through the great door of the hall could be seen a green field stretching away to the bank of the Rhein.
"Tell me, Hagen," Gunther asked of his half brother, "is there anything I have left undone that could enhance the fortunes of my race?"
"That there is," Hagen cried. "Dost thou not know of the Nibelungs' ring?"
"I have heard there is a treasure stolen from the Rhein-daughters; and that of it a ring was made, which has magic power."
"That is true; but the ring belongs to a wonderful youth, who by its power hath won a beautiful maiden called Brünnhilde. She lay in an enchanted sleep, in a forest-fastness, guarded by fire. This youth, Siegfried, alone, by means of this ring and his sword, has dared that flame; and now he has power over all the world, over thee and the Nibelungs, and even over the Gods."
Upon hearing this, Gunther became moody and frowning.
"Why hast thou stirred up envy in my breast. Why should this youth have the most beautiful maiden for a wife, and also a golden treasure that gives him power over us all?"
"Why not have these things for thyself?" Hagen asked, eyeing him keenly.
"How could I manage that?"
"Dost thou remember a magic potion I brought hereto the hall of the Gibichungs? If Siegfried should chance to drink that when our sister Gutrune were in his sight, he would forget Brünnhilde and love none but Gutrune. Would not the ring and the treasure of the Rhein thus come into the hands of the Gibichungs?" Gutrune looked earnestly at Hagen.
"From what thou sayest of this brave youth, I long to have him for my husband; but he is not here! How are we to lure him hither?"
"He is an adventurous youth and hath heard of the fame of the Gibichungs. He will not rest until he has met with all the adventure the Gibichungs can afford him. Even now, he may be near this place." As Hagen spoke, the sound of Siegfried's horn was heard afar off.
"Ah, dost hear the challenge?" cried Hagen, running to the broad entrance from which could be seen the river Rhein. "There comes a horse and a man, standing in a boat which nears the shore. It must be he, because he is beautiful as none other is beautiful, and he wears the air of a brave man." Putting his hands to his mouth in the fashion of a trumpet he called loudly:
"Hoi-ho! Whom seekest thou, hero?"
"The stalwart son of the Gibichung."
"A welcome waits thee," Hagen answered. Siegfried could now be seen, disembarking with his horse, Grane. Hagen went to help him and made the boat's chain fast. Gunther followed his brother to the bank, while Gutrune stood in the great entrance to welcome the stranger.
"Which is the son of the Gibich?" Siegfried asked, standing with his arm thrown across his horse.
"I am he, Siegfried," Gunther answered.
"Thy fame as a fighter has spread to the farthest corners of the earth and I am come to seek thee. Fight me, or be my friend, whichever thou wilt," he said, tranquilly. Gunther held out his hand in welcome:
"Come thou in friendship, Siegfried," he begged; and Siegfried gave Grane's bridle into Hagen's hand.
"Care well for the horse, Hagen; for it is of the mightiest strain ever known, and dear to me as my eyes; but how do you know my name?" he asked curiously of Gunther.
"Thou hast the appearance of that bold knight of whom all have heard. There can be no braver in the world, and if thou art not he I know not who thou art," Gunther answered, and, unseen by Siegfried, he motioned his sister to leave the hall before they entered it.
"These lands and people are mine," he continued, leading the way. "This great hall is my heritage, and my kinsmen are legion. I give all to you; share all with me. Let us dwell together in peace." At this saying a beautiful light came into Siegfried's face.
"I have neither kinsmen nor lands," he answered, much moved; "but I have this good sword, Nothung, which I forged myself and it, with my life, shall be thine." Thus they made a compact of brotherhood.
"Dost thou not own the treasure of the Nibelungen, then?" Hagen asked.
"True, but when I won it I let all but the ring and the Tarnhelm lie. I cared naught for the gold." He held up the Tarnhelm for them to see.
"Aye, 'tis the Tarnhelm!" Hagen cried. "Thou hast only to set it on thy head to be transformed into what thou wilt. Put it on thy head and wish it so, and thouwilt be transported in a trice to other lands. But there is also the ring——"
"Aye," Siegfried said tenderly; "but that is held by a woman," Hagen and Gunther looked at each other, meaningly, for they knew he spoke of Brünnhilde.
"Brother, call Gutrune to bring Siegfried a refreshing drink," Hagen said, and Gunther opening the door called to his sister who came out and offered the magic drink to the knight.
No sooner had he drunk, than he raised his eyes to thank Gutrune and beholding her, loved her.
"I drink to thee, dear Brünnhilde," he had been about to say, but looking, he loved another.
"What is thy sister's name?" he asked of Gunther in a low voice, scarcely daring to speak for fear his love would depart.
"Gutrune."
"I must have her for my wife. Hast thou not a wife, Gunther—why hast thou none?" he said, not waiting for one question to be answered before asking another.
"Alas, I have no wife because I have set my heart on one I may not have. I long for Brünnhilde, the Valkyrie maid who lies surrounded by fire—and I may not cross the flame."
"What! Is that thy only reason for being lonely? Then thou shalt have thy Brünnhilde. If Gutrune may be mine, I will win thy Brünnhilde for thee. Wearing the Tarnhelm I shall change my shape to thine, and as thy brother go through fire for thee and bring forth the maid."
"Ah," the Gibichung cried, joyfully; "our oath of brotherhood upon that! Gutrune shall be thine, thou ours, Brünnhilde mine."
Thus it was agreed. Hagen filled a drinking horn, while the two men cut their arms and let their blood mingle in the cup. Having drunk, they swore fidelity in the drink, and Hagen cut the horn in two with a single blow, while Siegfried and Gunther joined hands.
Putting on his armour again, Siegfried declared they should at once go forth and win Brünnhilde for Gunther.
"Wilt thou not rest, first?"
So eager was the enchanted Siegfried to win for another his own bride that he would take no rest till it was done; so Hagen was left to guard the hall till their return. Soon Gunther and the knight were pushing off from the river bank, and floating down the middle of the stream.
Hagen, the half Gibichung, half Nibelung, thought of nothing but winning the Rheingold for the Nibelungs. He had sent Gunther after another's bride, by means of an evil enchantment, and when she was brought to the hall, she would certainly be wearing the ring. Thus the prize of the Nibelungen would once more be within the grasp of an evil race, and that which might be a power for good if rightly used, would become a power for evil and be badly abused.
While Siegfried and Gunther were on their way to fetch Brünnhilde, she sat lonely upon her rock, looking at the ring given her by Siegfried. As long as she looked upon it, she felt Siegfried to be near; nevertheless she was lonely. Very soon she heard the thunder.
"It is Donner! It is like a greeting to me from the Eternals," she thought, smiling half sadly. Once again she heard it and saw the flash of lightning. In the clouds,she saw Waltraute, her sister, coming on her winged horse, and Brünnhilde started up joyfully.
"Wotan has forgiven me," she cried, running to meet Waltraute, who arrived in great excitement.
"Brünnhilde, I have braved the war-father's wrath to beg thee to save the Eternals," she cried. "Since the day of thine enchantment Wotan has sent us no more to the battle-field for heroes. He has roamed over all the earth, till he is known as the Wanderer. One day he returned to Walhall with his spear broken, and he ordered the ash tree to be hewn in pieces and its splinters piled about Walhall. Then he summoned all our heroes about him, mounted the throne with his broken spear in his hand, and while we Valkyries crouched at his feet, he closed his eyes and seemed to wait for calamity to overwhelm us.
"At last in despair I threw myself upon his breast and demanded to know our fate. He told me that the Nibelungs' ring was now yours, and that should you restore it to the Rhein-daughters, the Eternals would once more be given back their life and youth, and all would be well with the world. Now I have fled to thee to beg thee to save us by restoring the ring."
At that, Brünnhilde looked at her sister sorrowfully. "The ring given me by Siegfried? Nay! I will never give up my ring. So hasten back to Walhall, sister. I cannot aid thee." Sadly embracing the despairing Valkyrie, Brünnhilde parted from her.
Mounting her winged horse, Waltraute rose among the clouds whose bright effulgence was watched sadly by Brünnhilde, till with the last sight of the Valkyrie, the evening closed in and the fire which guarded the beautiful maid began to be reflected again from below. Soon theflames seemed to leap with anger, and Brünnhilde watched the strange sight with anxiety. Suddenly she heard a call. It was Siegfried's. She ran to the edge of the cliff to look below, and almost instantly he appeared, rushing to her through the flames which immediately grew dull. The knight wore the Tarnhelm, but it hid only the half of his face, and his eyes were visible. His form was strange to Brünnhilde because he had changed into the image of Gunther, and when she looked at the unknown figure she shrieked. Then she whispered:
"Who cometh?" At first Siegfried stood motionless, leaning upon his spear. Then he said in a strange voice:
"I am a Gibichung come to wed thee." This made Brünnhilde frantic with terror, and to protect herself she stretched out the hand which wore the ring.
"Go back," she cried, but Siegfried in the guise of Gunther tore the ring from her, and after that she had no more strength to fly from him, so seizing her he carried her away to the hall of the Gibichungs.
Backat the home of the Gibichungs sat Hagen, awaiting the return of Gunther and Siegfried. Altars to Fricka, Donner, and Wotan were raised upon the Rhein, ready for sacrifices to be offered, when Gunther should return with Brünnhilde for his bride.
Toward evening, Hagen sat just inside the entrance hall asleep and leaning upon his spear, his shield beside him. When the bright moon rose above the river, Alberich could be seen crouching at Hagen's knees, whispering evil dreams to him.
"Thou art my son," he said, "and must win back theRheingold for the Nibelungen"; and in his dreams, Hagen promised to follow the counsel. Then the moon's light was hidden, and in the darkness Alberich disappeared. When he had gone, the dawn broke. Hagen woke and looked out upon the peacefully flowing Rhein.
As the Rhein grew redder and redder in the morning light, Hagen heard Siegfried's call and, all at once, the knight's head rose above the river's bank. He still wore the Tarnhelm upon his head, but appeared in his own shape.
"Waken and greet me, Hagen!" he cried gaily.
"Where are Brünnhilde and Gunther?" Hagen called, going to meet Siegfried.
"They follow, more slowly, in the boat. When I called to thee just now, I was miles away—at Brünnhilde's rock; but with the Tarnhelm upon my head, I arrived before thou couldst answer. Where is the beautiful Gutrune?"
"She will come at once to hear thy tale and to greet thee." Hagen called to her, and she appeared to learn of Brünnhilde's coming with her brother. She looked shyly at Siegfried.
"Let us call all to the wedding and greet Brünnhilde gaily, that she may be glad to dwell with us, and not sigh for her mountain rock," she cried; and Siegfried, taking her hand, went with her to prepare the feast.
Meanwhile, Hagen, watching from a high rock, blew upon his cow-horn as he saw a boat slowly coming up the river bearing Gunther and Brünnhilde.
"Ho! Vassals! Come! Hither come ye with your arms!" he shouted, blowing again a sharp blast upon the horn. In response the warriors of Gunther began to pour from the hall, and to run in great excitement to the river-bank.
"What do we gather for? Whom shall we fight? Is our Lord, Gunther, in danger?"
"He comes hither with a Valkyrie maid, and ye are to make sacrifices to the Gods. Kill ye a boar for Froh, a goat for Donner, and for Fricka kill a sheep. After ye have done those things, take the drinking horns and drink yourselves drunk in honour of the Gods."
The vassals went, some of them to the river's bank to receive Gunther and Brünnhilde, some to the hall to await their coming, and to welcome them upon its threshold.
"If any one has done your Lord's bride wrong, see that ye avenge her," Hagen forewarned. He was already beginning to stir up strife for Siegfried in accordance with Alberich's advice.
Clashing their shields and arms together, the vassals formed a line through which Brünnhilde and Gunther should pass, and when the boat reached the landing place all cried "Hail!" But Hagen stood silently watching, planning Siegfried's ruin.
When the pair stepped ashore, Brünnhilde walked with eyes cast down, full of despair and sorrow, while Gunther led her by the hand.
They reached the hall, where Siegfried and Gutrune stood to welcome them, and the men hailed each otheras brother. Gunther rejoiced that Siegfried had won Gutrune for his wife, but Brünnhilde raised her eyes to the knight, and beholding her own husband, the hero knight, she gave a great cry:
"Siegfried here?" She became distracted with horror. But Siegfried did not know her, and all her entreaties were in vain, since he was still enchanted by the potion.
Suddenly the Valkyrie maid saw the Nibelungen ring upon Siegfried's finger, and she pointed to it, trembling. Gunther, astounded by her appearance, touched her.
"Regard thy husband, Brünnhilde," he commanded; but instead of heeding him, she pointed to the knight.
"He is my husband," she cried, and Hagen at once demanded that all should give heed to what she might say. He foresaw the downfall of Siegfried, in her words.
"The one who won me, wore that ring," she said, pointing to it with shaking hand. "He was the image of Gunther, then, and he took the ring from me." Gunther looked at Siegfried and frowned while all stared at the men and at Brünnhilde in amazement.
"It was he who wrenched the ring from me," she declared, pointing to Gunther, "yet it is this knight who wears it." Gunther denied having given or taken from her the ring, and Siegfried declared she did not speak the truth. Gunther feared to have it known that he had not dared the flame himself, for his bride, and yet he feared Siegfried had betrayed his honour. There was confusion among the spectators who said among themselves:
"Whose wife can Brünnhilde be?" But Siegfried, having quite forgotten the woman he so dearly loved, declared that he had got the ring he wore from no woman, but had taken it from a dragon, whom he attacked in his lair, and killed. This was true, of course, but it was alsotrue that he had given the ring to Brünnhilde and under a wicked enchantment had taken it away.
Hagen spoke next, seeing a chance to gain the ring for the Nibelungs:
"Brünnhilde, thou sayest it was Gunther who wooed thee, and that it was he who took the ring from thee? Since that is true, Siegfried has won the ring by some false deed. It must have been Siegfried who came to thee in the guise of Gunther."
At this all the vassals murmured, and Gunther began to feel resentment, notwithstanding the part he had played in the deception. Brünnhilde wildly accused them both, and everybody cried out against Siegfried, Gutrune, too, accusing him. All the women called upon the knight to defend himself if he could, but he called for the spear's point on which to take an oath. When Hagen presented the spear to him, the knight laid his two fingers upon it and swore that he had been a faithful friend to Gunther, and that Brünnhilde's words were false. Brünnhilde, thus wronged, struck his hand from the spear and placing her own upon it, swore that Siegfried should die by that same spear's point.
By this time the quarrel had waxed so hot that the vassals and women called upon Donner to send his thunder, to silence it.
In the midst of the threats and confusion, Siegfried went close to Gunther and said aside:
"Brother, I am sorrier than thou art for all this, but it must have been the fault of the Tarnhelm which must have hidden only half of me. Thus, Brünnhilde cannot know whose wife she really is. But thou knowest well, that I won her for thee, and have no love for any but Gutrune. Come, let's be gay, and leave this poor girlto rest, so that she may recover herself. Like enough it is the strangeness of this place, after her wild, free life in her mountains, that gives her these uncanny thoughts."
Gunther, convinced by Siegfried's words, joined him in urging all to make gay upon this day of double marriage, and finally they followed Siegfried out into the forest, shouting and laughing, to feast and make sacrifices.
Brünnhilde, Gunther, and Hagen remained in the hall after Siegfried had been followed out by the company, and the Valkyrie stood, gloomily bewailing her fate; till Hagen, watching fate work Siegfried's ruin, went at last to the unhappy wife.
"Give me thy trust, Brünnhilde," he said; "I will avenge thy wrongs."
"How wilt thou avenge me? One glance of Siegfried's eye would kill thee, if he so willed it." she answered, looking at Hagen darkly. "No weapon can pierce him in battle: I enchanted him against all danger—except some one thrust at him from behind. In the back I did not guard him. I would not protect him in cowardice, but Siegfried will never turn his back upon the enemy. Thou canst not kill him in battle."
Gunther then began to bemoan his disgrace; but Brünnhilde turned upon him.
"Oh, thou most cowardly of men—betrayed and betrayer! If I dealt justice, the whole world's destruction could not pay for the wrong done me."
"Naught but Siegfried's death can wipe out the wrong," Hagen cried, watching Brünnhilde as he spoke. "Since he cannot be killed in battle, listen to my plan! To-morrow we hunt in honour of the weddings of Gutrune and the knight, Gunther and thee. While in the chase, and Siegfried all unsuspecting, I shall thrust at him from behind."
"So let it be," Brünnhilde cried, and Gunther, too cowardly to know the right, consented. With the morrow's tragedy arranged Hagen saw the way at last to possess himself of the Nibelungen ring.
As they decided upon the deed, the bridal procession came from the inner hall. All the vassals and women bore spears and flowers. Gutrune and Siegfried were carried aloft, upon shields, and as Brünnhilde and Gunther met them, they too, were hoisted high and the procession moved onward, toward the altars on the river's bank, where they were to offer sacrifices unto the Gods.
music
music
[Listen]
Threedays had passed since the Rhein-daughters had lost their golden treasure, and on the fourth they were swimming near the surface of the river, popping their heads up and calling to each other, when they heard the sound of the Gibichung hunters. Fearing to be caught by mortals, they dived to the bottom of the Rhein. No sooner had they disappeared than Siegfried came intothe wood, armed for the hunt. He had lost his way, having followed his game, far from the others, and as he began to complain that he had that day got no game, the Rhein-daughters rose again to the surface and mocked him.
"If we grant thee some game to-day, wilt thou give us that ring upon thy finger?" they called to him.
"What! In return for a paltry bearskin give to you a ring which I gained in battling with the Dragon?" he laughed, "nay."
"Ah, maybe thou hast a scold for a wife, who would make thee feel her blows if thou gavest away the ring." This tormenting reply annoyed Siegfried and finally he took off the ring and held it up to them, offering it if they would cease to deride him. Then they regarded him gravely.
"Keep that ring," they said, "till thou hast tasted the ill-fate that goes with it; after that thou wilt gladly give it to us. Now thou art parting with it, reluctantly." So Siegfried replaced the ring on his finger.
"Tell me the ring's secret, wilt thou?" he asked, and the maidens told him that it was accursed, and that very day, even while he thought himself so safe and fortunate, his death was determined.
Upon hearing this, Siegfried became troubled and told them to hold their peace. So they swam away, while he stood watching them, reflecting gravely, till he heard Hagen's horn sound through the forest.
Hearing Hagen's horn, Siegfried wound his own in reply, and soon Hagen, followed by Gunther and his vassals, entered the glade and flung their game in a great heap.
"Ah, this is where thou hast hidden thyself?" Hagen cried, gaily. "Come, let us all rest a while," and he threw himself down upon the ground. "The chase has wearied us, so let us have the wine-skins and drink heartily."
"I shall have to share your booty, if I am to eat," Siegfried laughed, "for I have had no luck to-day. I might have found game, but I followed the water-birds and heard from them a tale of disaster. It seems that I am to meet my death to-day." Hagen and Gunther started and looked meaningly at each other. Siegfried, all unsuspecting, threw himself down between Hagen and Gunther to drink his wine, and presently, seeing Gunther downcast, he sat up and began to while the time by telling tales of his youth—how he had lived with the Mime; how he had forged his good sword Nothung. After he had told about Fafner the Dragon, Hagen interrupted him and bade him drink again. Then he gave Siegfried a horn of wine, into which he had unnoticed poured another potion, which was to disenchant the knight. As in a dream, Siegfried's memory returned. He told of slaying the Dragon, and then of the little bird who directed him to a beautiful maiden who slept upon a rock, surrounded by fire.
"It was Brünnhilde," he cried, joyfully; "I waked her and made her mine." At this saying, all the company roused themselves and regarded each other with troubled looks. Siegfried had confirmed the story that Brünnhilde had told.
At that moment two ravens, which Wotan had sent out from Walhall to learn the time when the doom of the Eternals had come, flew from a thicket near by, andSiegfried raised himself up to watch them. He turned his back to Hagen, and instantly the warrior plunged his sword into the knight's back and Siegfried fell dead.
There was a frightful outcry then from all, and Gunther, remembering the truth, knowing that Siegfried had been betrayed by magic, and had believed himself to be serving Gunther without harm, felt remorse and knelt beside the body. Hagen turned away and went into the hills, while the vassals gathered about, prepared to take the body to the hall of the Gibichungs. As the funeral procession moved off, to the measure of wonderful music, the moon rose, its light flooded all the valley, and touched the corpse.
Back at the hall, Gutrune had risen from sleep, believing she heard some strange, threatening sound. First she went to Brünnhilde's door, but she appeared to be asleep. Next she went to the entrance of the great hall and listened, but she heard nothing; then after a little she saw Hagen, wearing a fearful look, coming from the river's bank. Something in her heart told her that a dreadful thing had happened.
"What misfortune has come to Siegfried?" she cried.
"They come—bearing his body," Hagen answered, looking upon the ground.
After Hagen, came the men bearing the body, and when Gutrune saw it, she shrieked and fell upon it.
"Who hath done this wicked thing?" she shrieked, and Hagen looked at Gunther.
"Nay," said Gunther, shaking his head angrily, "do not look at me. It was not I who did this. It was thataccursed man," and he pointed to Hagen. Already the fight for the ring, in the hall of the Gibichungs was beginning to divide brothers. "May grief and ill-fate be thine, forever!"
"Well," said Hagen, "I admit the deed, and now I claim my heritage—the ring of the Nibelungen!" He tried to take the ring from the dead man's finger.
"Never shalt thou have it," Gutrune cried, flinging herself upon him.
"Away! What I have won, thou shalt ne'er make thine!" Gunther shouted. "Dost think to grasp Gutrune's dower?" The two men fell a-fighting; and Hagen, piercing Gunther's breast, sprang aside, while Gunther fell dead. Instantly Hagen leaped toward Siegfried's body to snatch the ring; but slowly, slowly the dead hand was raised threateningly, and Gutrune shrieked out.
Brünnhilde, who now appeared, advanced toward the corpse, solemnly.
"Do ye who have betrayed me, now think to make that which is mine your own?" she asked, looking at the company contemptuously, and speaking in a grave voice. "Thou wert no wife of his," she said to Gutrune. "Naught that was his is thine." Gutrune looked steadily at Brünnhilde, and believing that she spoke the truth, she crouched down beside her brother's body, and did not move again. Brünnhilde's appearance was so noble that her word convinced everybody and more than that, Siegfried's story and his last cry had told them the truth.
"Now," said Brünnhilde to the vassals, "bring great logs and heap them high beside the river Rhein. There shalt Siegfried's body find a tomb. Bring, too, his steed, and let it await me, here." While Brünnhilde knelt beside Siegfried's beloved body, the men heaped up thelogs and the women strewed the top of the pile with garlands. The vassals came for Siegfried's body and as they lifted it, Brünnhilde drew the ring from his finger.
"There, ye sorrowing Rhein maidens, I give ye back this accursed ring," she cried. "Give heed, ye wayward sisters; this ring which has brought so much sorrow to Gods and men, shall now become yours. I thus restore the Rheingold to its owners. I place the ring upon my finger, and when I have leaped into the flames beside my Siegfried, the ring shall be purged by fire from all the stains that have come upon it since it was so wrongfully come by. Take the ring from amid the ashes, and return with it to your water-home." She flung a great brand upon the heap of wood where Siegfried's body lay, and immediately two ravens flew from the heap.
"Go thou, ye ravens, to Walhall, and tell Wotan what ye have seen. The end of Godhood is near. Then go to the rock where Loge burneth and tell him to go to Walhall." The ravens flew away, while the flames leaped about Siegfried. Turning to the horse, Grane, and putting her hand lovingly upon him, Brünnhilde took off his bridle. "Now, Siegfried, we join thee," she cried, and giving her great war-cry, Brünnhilde sprang upon the horse, and together they leaped upon the burning bier. Instantly the flames roared and flared high and seemed to seize upon the Hall of the Gibichungs, while all the company fled, crowding close together. When the fire was at its worst, the river Rhein overflowed its banks and rolled upon the land, extinguishing the flames. On the waves, the three Rhein-daughters swam and hovered over the place where the bodies were. Hagen, who saw before him the loss of the ring, became frantic with despair, so he rushed into the flood, to wrench the treasure fromthe maidens, but Woglinde and Wellgunde threw their arms about him, dragged him down into the depths, and swam away with him.
Flosshilde, having found the ring, swam before them, holding up the prize triumphantly. A great bank of clouds had piled up beyond the river, and soon this began to glow, as if with fire. The Rhein returned to its natural bed, while the maidens swam once more happily in its waters. The Hall of the Gibichungs had been destroyed, and all the vassals and women had crowded together, watching the scene with horror and wonderment. As the fiery clouds glowed more and more brightly, the Palace of the Gods appeared, and the inner courts of Walhall could be seen, brightly lighted by the fire which was consuming it. Wotan and the Eternals sat within, surrounded by the heroes and the Valkyries. All awaited the flames without resistance, and as the Gibichungs looked, Loge, the spirit of flame, seized upon everything and the Eternals were seen no more.
Walther von Stolzing, a young knight from Franconia.David, Sachs's apprentice.Eva, Pogner's daughter.Magdalene, Eva's nurse.Night Watchman.
Burghers, women of all guilds, journeymen, apprentices, girls, and people.
The action takes place in Nuremberg about the middle of the sixteenth century.
Composer: Richard Wagner.
Fourhundred years ago in Nuremberg there was a great rivalry among the townsmen, as to who was the best singer. Indeed, in the history of this great yearly competition, some had become so noted for their excellence, that in a spirit of fairness they had almost ceased to compete. There were twelve Mastersingers, and this number was to be added to by future competitions. Among thosewho had removed themselves from the contest (because his previous successes made it unfair that he should continue) was Hans Sachs, the cobbler. Hans was beloved by all, and had a spirit as well as a genius above his fellows.
The prize for which the singers contended had hitherto been a sum of money, given by the rich man of the city, one Veit Pogner, a goldsmith, but upon the occasion we are about to describe he had decided to make the prize far more precious. He agreed to give his daughter Eva in marriage to the best singer, provided she could love him; and if she could not love him, she was to live unmarried for the rest of her days.
On the morning of the preliminary trial, when those qualified to enter the real competition were to be chosen, the good folk of Nuremberg were assembled in the church, singing the last hymn. Eva and her nurse, Magdalene, were there and also the knight, Walther von Stolzing, a newcomer in Nuremberg, greatly in love with Eva. She, too, loved him, but it would have displeased her father had she been seen speaking with the handsome stranger.
Upon that day, both the young people lingered after the others had gone, in order to get speech together. All the time the hymn was being sung, the two looked tenderly at each other, and these glances were surprised by the devoted nurse, Magdalene. When the service was over, and Eva was near the door, she pretended to have left her handkerchief in her pew, and she sent Magdalene back to find it.
The lovers had but a minute together before Magdalene returned, so Eva had to think of a new way to be rid of her.
"Where can my buckle be," she cried, looking abouther. "I must have left that as well"; and back Magdalene went the second time. She had no sooner returned than Eva found she had forgotten her book, and back the nurse went again, grumbling and declaring that Master Pogner would be in a rage if he knew what was going on.
"Only promise that thou wilt marry me," Walther urged, while the nurse was gone for the last time.
"Now what do you mean by standing there and talking love?" Magdalene cried on her return, angry and half frightened, because she was responsible for her nursling's conduct. "Don't you know, Sir Walther, that Eva is to be given in marriage to the singer who shall this year carry off the prize—otherwise she may not marry at all?"
"The prize? What does she mean?" he questioned, greatly agitated.
"It is for him who shall prove to be the best singer in Nuremberg." The knight looked dejected.
"Can you not sing?" Eva asked anxiously.
"Alas, I do not know. I think not; I have never tried. What must I sing?"
"A song that you have made yourself, Sir Knight; you must make both rhyme and music yourself according to the rules of the Mastersingers."
"I fear I could never do it—unless I should be inspired by my love for you. Alas! I fear we are lost unless your father can be persuaded to change his mind."
"Nay, he cannot." Eva shook her head sadly, "He has given his word and cannot break it. You must try to sing for love of me," she pleaded.
Walther was quite distracted at the prospect. Meantime, after the church had become empty, David, the apprentice of Hans Sachs, came in with a great piece ofchalk stuck in his belt, and carrying a big rule. Magdalene was quite in love with David, so that when Eva appealed to her for help, she had turned her attention to the apprentice.
"David, what are you doing there?" she cried, in order to give the lovers a little more time.
"Doing? Why is it not weighty business to-day? The Mastersingers are to have a trial of voices, to be sure. The pupil, whoever he may be, whose voice is fine and whose composition breaks none of the rules that govern those things is to be made free to enter for the prize; and later, when the great festival of song is on, he may even become a Mastersinger, himself."
"There, Sir Knight, is your opportunity! You must be the pupil. Eva, we must be gone and leave Sir Walther to try for thee."
"Oh, heaven! I am all of a fright. I fear I shall never understand what is expected of me," Walther cried distractedly.
"David here shall tell you, Sir Walther. Here, David, help this brave gentleman all that you can. I wish it." She looked admonishment at him.
"Tell him all the plan of the Mastersingers and how they will expect him to conduct himself in the competition. Come, Eva." But Eva still lingered. In came two other apprentices, bearing benches. Walther watched those formidable preparations with uneasiness, walking up and down the church in dismay.
"Good heaven! I am sure I cannot sing. I have never tried to sing. I shall never be able to sing. Yet I must sing. What in the world can a man do, in such a fix?"
"Well, well, do the best you can. David will instructyou, Sir Knight," said Magdalene, and she hurried away with Eva, leaving the poor knight alone with the apprentices.
These chaps came in thick and fast, bringing benches for the Mastersingers to sit upon, and arranging everything in the church for the trial of song. David kept watching Walther, who had flung himself into a great ecclesiastical chair, and sat there brooding. After observing him in silence for a time, David shouted:
"Begin," Walther started.
"What for?"
"Begin!"
"What for?"
"What for?—why that is how the Marker calls. You must then at once go and sing. Don't you understand anything about this business?" he asked in amazement.
"Who is the Marker?" Poor Walther asked, more and more bewildered.
"Were you never before at a singing trial?"
"Not where the judges were craftsmen," Walther answered. He was quite certain if he knew anything about music, it could not be the kind that shoe-makers, and boiler makers, and the like were acquainted with.
"Are you a poet?"
"I wish I were," Walther sighed dejectedly.
"Are you then a 'scholar'?"
"Lord, no, I think not—I don't know. What is a 'scholar?"
"Don't know that, and yet expect to become a Mastersinger!" David cried, in amazement. "Well, now, let me tell you, Sir Knight, no one gets to be a Mastersinger in a minute! For a full year, Hans Sachs, our greatestmaster, has been teaching me the art, and I am not yet even a 'scholar.'"
David continued to tell of the difficulties of learning from a cobbler how to become a Mastersinger, though the cobbler was one himself. By the time David had finished telling Walther about the process of shoemaking and music making, Walther threw up his hands in despair.
"Defend me from learning—the cobbler's trade," he cried, half humorously, yet troubled.
"You must learn:
"Dreadful, dreadful," cried poor Walther. "What an endless medley of tones!"
"Oh, those are only the titles; after that comes the singing—and it has to be according to rules, remember."
Walther groaned. David at once outlined some of the rules; they appeared quite hopeless.
"Why no one in the world could meet such demands, it is ridiculous."
"You had better not say so," David answered, significantly. "I want you to know that the great Mastersingers of Nuremberg run this thing; and it doesn't make any difference to anybody but you and Herr Pogner's daughter whether you approve or not." At the mention of Eva, Walther tried to control his feelings; he must try at least, the Lord help him—to come out somewhere in the midst of all that shoemaker's music of "modes" and "thread" and "buttons" and what-not!
By this time the apprentices had erected a small stage with a chair and a desk upon it and a blackboard behind, with a piece of chalk hanging from a long string upon the board, and all about that funny arrangement were black curtains which could be drawn close.
"The Marker will let seven faults slip by," David explained to the knight; but if he finds more than seven it is all over for the candidate.
he wound up poetically.
Having finished their preparations, the apprentices began to dance about in a ring. In the midst of the jollity in came Pogner from the sacristy; also, Beckmesser, who was the town clerk and a singer who believed in himself.
David took his place at the sacristy door, to let in the other Mastersingers, and the other apprentices stood waiting before the bench at back. Walther, sick to deaththrough being teased by the apprentices, had sat himself down on the very front seat, and there, before all, was the dreaded Marker's seat. There was the great "singing chair"—where the candidate was to sit while under trial. Pogner stood talking with the town clerk, Beckmesser.
"Herr Pogner," the latter was saying, "I know what this prize is to be, and I love your daughter with all my soul." Beckmesser, who was a rather old and absurd chap, made a sentimental and dramatic gesture. "I want to beg of you if there is any preference shown, that it be shown to me."
"I cannot say there will be any favours shown, Beckmesser, but my plan should serve you well. Eva is to go to the best singer—in case of course that she loves him. She shall not be forced; and who sings so well as you?"
"Yet, in certain respects, I am weak," Beckmesser murmured. "I should like those weak points to be passed over." He was a foxy old fellow, far too old for the lovely Eva, and he was quite willing to take an unfair advantage of his brother singers.
Walther then jumped from his chair and went to Pogner.
"Herr Pogner, may I have speech with you?" he asked.
"What, Sir Walther seeks me in singing school?"
"Yet it is a fitting place, because, to tell the truth, Herr Pogner, I came to Nuremberg town, solely for the love of art," he said promptly, hoping he would be forgiven for the lie. "I failed to mention this yesterday, but to-day it seems fitting to tell you because I wish to enter the competition. In short, I wish to become a Mastersinger." Walther was fairly amazed at his own bravado. At the same moment, Kunz Vogelgesang and Konrad Nachtigal entered.
"Vogelgesang, Nachtigal, listen to this: here is a noble knight, Walther of Stolzing, well known to me, who wishes to join our singing. This is very fine. I am sure we all welcome you to our guild, Sir Walther," he cried heartily. Beckmesser, who had observed the handsome Walther, became uneasy.
"If anything should go wrong with my singing," he thought, "I should stand small chance any other way with this whipper-snapper. I'll go to-night beneath Eva's window and sing a serenade which will surely win her heart. I'll not lose her even if this great knight should prove to be a great singer." Every time he thought of Walther, it was with a sneer. On the whole, Beckmesser was a nasty little man, even though he was quite a singer. He was old and ugly and it was quite ridiculous of him to think of marrying Eva.
Walther, still speaking with Pogner, confessed:
"My strongest reason for entering this competition is love for your dear daughter. I know well that she is to be the prize." Pogner was well pleased, for he liked the knight.
"I am glad to hear you say this, Sir Knight; but the matter has to be settled—after the promise I have given—according to certain regulations set down by the Mastersingers; but I shall try to give you the best of chances." Pogner said this heartily, for he would like to have that fine fellow for a son-in-law. Meanwhile, all the Mastersingers had arrived by way of the sacristy door, and Hans Sachs the very last. Kothner took from his pocket the list of names of those who were to sing, and standing apart, he began to call the roll. Each responded to his name, and then Pogner formally announced what the prize was to be. Each man cried that hewould be the one to win the prize—since it wassucha prize.
"But remember," Pogner interrupted their enthusiasm, "although I am determined she shall marry none but him who wins the prize, if she should not love that singer, she shall not be forced, but shall remain single all the rest of her life"; and with that they had to be content.
"Let me make still a suggestion, Herr Pogner," Hans Sachs, the shoemaker spoke up. He loved Eva with all his heart, but he was good and true and fair. He knew that he was growing old, and that he sang so finely that it was not fair he should enter into such a competition. If he sang for the prize, the contest would be won before it was begun. "Let me suggest that all the people of Nuremberg shall have a hand in choosing the best singer. To-morrow at the fête, let all the people hear the singers, and let theirs be the choice."