"Oh, it was a ring, made from the Rheingold. Now he has power over all the Nibelheim, and he will kill us. Till this happened, we wrought at the forge beautiful trinkets for our women-folks and laughed gaily all day,but now he has made us his slaves who must dig precious metals from the earth and turn them into what he commands. There is no more happiness for us. I thought to keep the Tarnhelm he bade me make, and learn its power, but I had to give it up." He went on whining and moaning.
"Ah, thy case is a hard one! but we shall help thee." While Wotan was thinking what they should do, Alberich was heard returning. He was cracking his whip and driving a great host of Nibelungs before him from the cleft of the rock. All were staggering under loads of valuable metals; gold and silver, and precious stones.
"Hi, there! Move thy fastest," he shouted, lashing them as he drove them before him. He had taken his Tarnhelm off and hung it at his girdle: turning, he saw Wotan and Loge.
"Hey! Who are these?" he cried. "Nibelungs, be off to your digging; and mind ye bring me treasure worth having." Lashing them soundly, and raising his magic ring to his lips, the Nibelungen shrunk away in affright and disappeared into the clefts of the rock.
"Ah, ye are a precious possession," he said to the ring. "Whoever fails to obey thy Lord, feels thy power." The little black villain looked gloatingly upon it; then turning to Wotan and Loge he asked: "What are ye doing in my domain?"
"We have heard of thy power, great sir, and came to see it," Loge replied.
"It were nearer the truth if ye come to envy me, and to spy out my possessions," he answered, but Loge laughed as he retorted:
"What! you miserable imp of darkness! You speak thus to me! Do you not remember me? I was onceof thy realm. Pray tell me what you would do in your underground caverns with your forges and smithies if I were to deny you my flame? How, then, would you forge your precious rings?" Loge laughed mockingly.
"You are that false rogue, the Spirit of Flame, then?" Alberich said.
"Never mind calling names; you can't get on without me, you know that well enough," Loge answered, grinning.
"What good can thy treasures do thee here in this perpetual night?" Wotan asked.
"My gold shall buy me even the Gods, themselves." Alberich replied; "and though I forswore love, I am likely to get even that; my gold shall buy it for me."
"What prevents some one stealing thy magic ring? Thou hast no friend in all the world, so when you sleep who shall guard the ring?"
"My own wit! What, think you I am a fool? Let us see! By my own cunning I have had fashioned this Tarnhelm which makes me invisible to all. Then who shall find me when I sleep?" he demanded triumphantly.
Loge smiled contemptuously.
"Doubtless thou wouldst be safe enough—if such magic could be," he answered, incredulously, "but——"
"You doubt?" Alberich shouted, his vanity all aroused.
"Well, if it be true—show us," the cunning Flame Spirit returned. Immediately Alberich set the Tarnhelm upon his head.
"What would ye that I become?"
"Oh, it matters not—so that you become something that you are not," Loge answered carelessly.
"Then behold!" Alberich cried, and instantly he turned into a great writhing serpent which coiled and uncoiled at Wotan's feet.
"Oh, swallow me not," Loge cried, as if in mortal fear. Then Alberich, becoming himself again shouted, "Now will you doubt?"
"That was very well done," Loge assured him, "and I grant you frightened me; but as for your safety—if you could have turned yourself into some small thing—a toad or mouse for example—it would be safer for you."
"Then behold!" Alberich shouted again, losing all caution in his pique. He turned himself into a slimy crippled toad, which crawled upon the rock, near Wotan's foot. Instantly Wotan set his heel upon the creature and pinned him to the earth, while Loge grasped the Tarnhelm. Then Alberich becoming himself again squirmed and shouted, beneath Wotan's feet.
"Something to bind the imp, quickly," Wotan called to Loge, and in a trice the dwarf was bound, and borne upward by the God and Loge. Again they passed by the smithy lights, heard the ring of the anvils, and soon they were back at the trysting place. The Nibelung, still shrieking and cursing at his own folly, was placed upon a rock, while Loge and Wotan stood looking down at him.
"There, imp, the Gods have conquered thee and thy magic. Thus they conquer the powers of evil and darkness. Thou art henceforth our slave unless you see fit to ransom yourself with the Rhein treasure."
At this, Alberich set up a great howling, but Wotan was impatient.
"Slavery for thee—worse than that of thy Mimes—or else give me the Rheingold quickly." Alberich remembered his ring—the Tarnhelm hung at Loge's girdle—and thought he might safely give up the gold.
"With my ring, I can win it back and more too," he thought; so he said to Loge:
"Well, then, rascal, unbind my arm that I may summon the Nibelungen." Loge loosened one arm for him, Alberich raised the ring to his lips and called upon his host of imps. Instantly they poured from the crevasses of the rocks, laden with the Rheingold, which they dumped in a great heap before Wotan.
"Ah, thou rogues," Alberich shrieked to Loge and the War-god; "wait till my time comes!—I'll make you dance." The awful little fellow roared from his small throat with rage.
"Never mind that: we shall be able to take care of ourselves," the God answered, while Alberich lifted the ring and the Nibelungen rushed pell-mell into the rocks again.
"Being a God, you think you can take what you desire without pay; but even the Gods must pay. The gold was stolen and you need not think to profit by another's roguery."
"We shall chance it," Wotan replied, with a smile—"so take off that ring of thine—" At this Alberich gave a frightful scream.
"Never! I will give my life, but never this ring. Oh, you wretches! Rascals! Villains!" He stopped shouting for sheer lack of breath. He saw before him the loss of that which was to win him back his gold and power. Wotan made a motion to Loge, who laughed and dragged the ring from the dwarf's hand, Wotan put the magic ring upon his own finger, and Alberich nearly fainted with despair. Gathering his scattered senses, hebegan to utter a frightful curse upon the ring. He swore that whoever had it should meet ruin and death instead of power and happiness, and cursing thus in a way to curdle even the blood of the Gods, he spat at Wotan.
"Have done, thou groundling," Loge said. "Go to thy hole." Alberich fled, still crying curses on the gold.
When Wotan and Loge first returned to earth with the imp, it had been twilight, but now, just before night, the light grew stronger, and when the mist that had hung lightly over all cleared away, Fricka, Donner, and Froh could be seen hurrying to the tryst.
"Thou hast brought Freïa's ransom," Fricka cried, joyously, looking at the great golden heap. "Already, she must be near, because see! Do we not all grow younger?" she asked tremblingly, looking at the others.
"It is true; we were dying and now I feel strength in all my limbs," Donner answered, looking in amazement at his brother Gods.
"Yes—here comes Freïa with Fafner and Fasolt." Freïa would have rushed into Fricka's arms, but the Giants still held her fast.
"She is not thine till we have the gold," they declared; and thrusting his staff into the earth, Fafner said:
"Thou shalt heap the Rheingold as high as my staff—which is as high as the Goddess, and the heap shall be made as thick and as broad as she. When this is done, she is thine." Wotan called out impatiently:
"Heap up the gold; make haste and be rid of them." So Loge and Froh fell to heaping the gold about the staff, while the Giants stood by and watched. When it all was piled, Fafner peered through the heap to see if there was an unfilled chink.
"Not enough," he cried; "I can still see the gleam ofFreïa's hair—which is finer than gold. Throw on that trinket at thy belt," he signified the Tarnhelm which hung at the girdle of Loge. Loge threw it contemptuously upon the heap. Then Fafner peeped again. "Ah! I still can see her bright eyes—more gleaming than gold. Until every chink is closed so that I may no longer see the Goddess and thus behold what I have sacrificed for the treasure, it will not do. Throw on that ring thou wearest on thy finger," he called to Wotan.
At that Wotan became furious.
"The ring. Thou shalt never have the ring—not if thou shouldst carry away the Eternals, themselves." Fafner seized Freïa as if to make off with her.
"What, thou cruel God! Thou art going to let them have our sister," Fricka screamed, mingling her shrieks with Freïa's. Donner and Froh added their rage to hers, and assailed Wotan.
"I'll keep my ring," Wotan shouted, being overcome with the power it would give to him, and determined rather to lose his life.
"Thou wretched God! Thy wickedness means the doom of the Eternals," Fricka again screamed, beside herself with the shrieks of Freïa. As the Gods were about to curse Wotan, a bluish light glowed from a fissure in the earth.
"Look," cried Loge, and all turned to see, while Fafner, certain of one treasure or the other, looked and waited.
The bluish light grew and grew, and slowly from the ground rose a frost-covered woman, her glittering icy hair flowing to her waist, the blue light about her causing her garments of frost to glance and shimmer and radiate sparkles all about her.
"Wotan," she spoke, "give up thy ring." All were silent, the Gods and Giants dumb with amazement.
Again she spoke: "It is Erda, she who knows the past, present, and the future. Thy ring is accursed. Ruin and disaster follow its possession. Give up thy ring!"
"Who art thou?" Wotan asked in amazement.
"I am mother of the three Fates—of her who weaves—her who watches—and her who cuts the cord of life. They are my daughters. Thy fate is spread out before me; give up thy ring." The Gods trembled before one who knew both good and evil. Erda had sunk into the earth as far as her breast.
"Give up thy ring," she sighed again, and disappeared in the earth, as Wotan rushed toward her. Donner and Froh held him back.
"Touch her not—to touch her would mean death!" they cried. Wotan stood thoughtfully, looking at the spot where Erda had been, till presently, with a quick movement, he threw the ring upon the Rheingold.
"Freïa!" he cried, "give us back our youth and life, and thou, Giants, take thy treasure." As Freïa sprung toward her sister Fricka to embrace her, the Giants fell to quarrelling over the gold.
"Here, thou! give me my share," Fafner roared, as Fasolt was trying to possess himself of all the hoard. Thus they fought while the Gods looked on.
"Keep the ring, Fafner," Loge called. "It is worth more to thee than all the gold." But the struggle became more fierce till at last Fafner with one great blow killed his brother, while the Gods looked on in horror.
"Behold how Alberich's curse begins to work," Loge cried to Wotan.
"I must see Erda the Wise again," Wotan answered, abstracted and troubled.
"Nay," said Fricka, grasping his arm. "See thy palace—the Walhall of the Eternals for which thou hast nearly caused us to perish. Thou hast got what thou desired, yet hast not even entered its halls. Come—let us go and seek peace and happiness." Thus urged, but looking thoughtfully at the spot where Erda had disappeared, he permitted himself to be led toward Walhall.
"The place was paid for with an evil wage," one of the Gods said, moodily, for all saw the mists settling upon them and felt youth and hope leaving them. They had not yet eaten of their apples of life, but Donner at last aroused himself and strode to a high peak.
"Come," he cried, in a mighty voice; and swinging his mammoth hammer above his head he called again: "Come! Come, ye mists of all the earth! Gather around me. Come, ye hovering clouds, ye foreboding mists! Come with lightnings and with thunder and sweep the heavens clear," and swinging his hammer he shouted: "Heda, heda, heda! To me, all mists! To me, all ye vapours! Donner calls his hosts. Vapours and fogs; wandering mists, heda, heda, heda!"
The black clouds gathered about him till all the Gods were obscured, and as they enfolded them, even the Thunder God was hidden.
Out of the darkness flashed the lightning. Boom! his hammer crashed, and the thunders rolled away into the hills.
Boom! the hammer crashed against the rock again, and with another mighty stroke the darkness rolled away, the storm cleared, the sun shone forth and at Donner's feet a brilliant rainbow-bridge appeared. It bridged theway from peak to palace. It was the bridge of promise, and to it Froh pointed the way. As the sun beamed upon the earth, the pinnacles and roofs of Walhall shone like burnished gold, and Wotan took his Goddess by the hand and crossed the bridge of promise while the others followed in his train. Loge, going last, paused.
"I foresee the downfall of the Eternals," he murmured. "They have longed for ease and luxuries which they have bought with evil bargains. Shall I go with them, or shall I once more wander, flickering, dancing, wavering, glancing—a Spirit of Flame that shall destroy while others build?" Thinking of what was to come, he slowly crossed the rainbow-bridge and cast in his lot with the Eternals.
As the Gods departed for Walhall, the Rhein-daughters were lamenting their loss; but Wotan heard and turned to chide them. (See following pages—in which the music is to be read straight across five pages:331to335inclusive.)
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Siegmund.Hunding.Wotan.Sieglinde.Brünnhilde.Fricka.
The Valkyries: Gerhilde, Ortlinde, Schwertleite, Waltraute, Helmwige, Siegrune, Grimgerde, Rossweisse.
Faroff in the forest lived a huntsman and his wife. The huntsman was rough and brutal, but his wife, Sieglinde, was a young and tender creature who lived far away from pleasure and friends, while her husband hunted all day, went to sleep as soon as he had his supper, and was always surly and rough.
The huntsman's house was strangely built, with the trunk of an ash tree in its very centre, while struck deep into its hole was a sword. The weapon had been driven so far into the tree's trunk, that only its hilt was to be seen. The house was poor, indeed, with only a table and some rough benches for furniture, and at one side, a fireplace where a dull fire flickered.
One night, while Sieglinde was about to prepare Hunding's supper, a handsome youth burst into the hut, seeking shelter from the storm. The room was empty and he stood at the open door, looking about for some one from whom he might ask a welcome; but all was silent and deserted; so he staggered to the hearth and sank down before the fire upon a great bearskin. He appeared to be exhausted as if he had fled far from some persistent foe. He wore no armour, had no arms, and was quite defenceless and worn.
"Whoever owns this shelter and warmth must share it with me for a moment," he sighed: "I can go no farther;" and he stretched himself before the welcome blaze.
Sieglinde, hearing a sound and thinking Hunding might have returned, came from an inner room. Upon opening the door the sight that met her eyes was the man upon her hearth-stone.
"Some stranger here!" She whispered to herself, a little afraid, for she was not able to see his half-hidden face. Poor Siegmund had no sooner stretched himself before the blaze than he fell asleep. Presently Sieglinde drew nearer, looked into his face and saw that he was very handsome, besides being gentle in appearance.
"I wonder if he can be ill?" she thought, compassionately; and as she continued to look into his face a great feeling of tenderness and love for him crept into her heart. Half waking, he called for water, and Sieglinde gave it to him from the drinking horn. As she again bent to give him the water, he saw her for the first time, and he looked at her thoughtfully in his turn, and in his turn, too, he loved her. She appeared to him to be very beautiful and kind.
"Whose house is this?" he asked, at last, watching Sieglinde wherever she went.
"It is the house of Hunding, the hunter," she answered, "and I am Sieglinde, his wife."
"I wonder will he welcome a wounded and defenceless guest?" he asked with some anxiety.
"What? art thou wounded?" she demanded with solicitude. "Show me thy wounds that I may help thee."
"Nay," he cried, leaping to his feet; "my wounds are slight and I should still have been fighting my foes, but my sword and shield were shattered and I was left at their mercy. They were many and I could not fight them single-handed and weaponless. I must now be on my way. I am but an ill-fated fellow, and I would not bring my bad luck upon thee and thy house." He started to go out of the door.
"Thou canst not bring ill-fate to me," she answered, looking at him sadly. "I am not happy here."
"If that be true," he said, pausing to regard her tenderly, "then I shall remain," and he turned back into the house.
At that very moment, Hunding was heard returning. Sieglinde, hearing him lead his horse to the stable, opened the door for him, as was her wont, and waited for him to come in. When Hunding finally appeared, he paused at seeing Siegmund.
"Whom have we here?" he asked his wife, suspiciously.
"A wounded man whom I found lying upon the hearth-stone. I gave him water, and welcomed him as a guest." Hunding, hearing this, hung his sword and shield upon a branch of the dead ash tree, and taking off his armour, handed it to Sieglinde.
"Set the meal for us," he said to her in a surly tone, looking sharply at the stranger. Sieglinde hung the armour upon the tree and began to prepare the meal.
"You seem to have come a long way," said Hunding at last to Siegmund. "Have you no horse?"
"I have come over mountain and through brake. I know not whither the journey has led me. I would find that out from thee; and may I ask who gives me shelter?"
"I am Hunding whose clan reaches far, and who has many kinsmen. Now for thyself?"
"I, too, have kinsmen who war for freedom. My father was a wolf and my mother is dead. I am the son of the Wälsungs—a warring race. Once my father, the wolf, and I wandered together in the forest. We went to hunt, and upon our return we found our hut laid waste and my mother burned to ashes. Then, sadly, my father and I went forth again."
"I have heard of this wolfling," Hunding answered, frowning. "A wild and wolfish race, truly! Tell me, stranger, where roams thy father, now?"
"He became the game of the Neidlings—they who killed my mother; but many a Neidling has been destroyed in his pursuit. At last my father must have been slain. I was torn from him, but later escaped from my captors and went in search of him. I found only his empty skin, and so I was left alone in the forest. I began to long for the companionship of men and women; but I was mistrusted; whatever I thought right, others thought wrong, and that which others thought well of appeared to me to be evil. Thus, in all my wanderings, I found no friend. In truth my name is Wehwalt: Woe. I may never find love and kindness. Foes wait ever upon my track. Since I am a wolf's son, who will believe that I have lovingthoughts?" Hereupon, Sieglinde looked at the handsome yet sorrowful stranger with great tenderness.
"Tell us, guest, how thy weapons were lost?" Hunding insisted.
"Willingly I shall tell thee. A sorrowing maid cried for help. Her kinsmen thought to bind her in wedlock to one she did not love; and when she cried to me to free her, I had to fight all her kinsmen single-handed. I slew her brothers and while protecting her as she bent above their bodies, her people broke my shield and I had to flee."
"Now I know you," Hunding shouted, rising and glaring at the young wolfling. "I was called to battle with my kinsmen—they were your foes! He who fought us fled before I could reach the battling place, and here I have returned to find my enemy in my house! Let me tell you, wolf-man, my house shall hold you safe for the night, since you came here wounded and defenceless; but to-morrow you must defend yourself, for I will kill you."
At that Hunding moved threateningly toward Siegmund, but Sieglinde stepped between them, regarding Siegmund with a troubled face.
"As for thee," said Hunding to her roughly; "have off with thee! Set my night-draught here and get thee to bed!"
Sieglinde took from the cupboard a box of spices from which she shook some into the drinking horn in which she was making the night-draught. All the while she moved about she tried to direct Siegmund's eye toward the sword hilt which gleamed upon the ash tree; but Hunding was not pleased with her and drove her from the room to her bed-chamber. Then taking the armour from the tree he glowered darkly at Siegmund.
"Look well to thyself, to-morrow," he said; "for I mean to kill thee." Then he followed Sieglinde to the inner chamber.
Siegmund sat down, sad and lonely, while the lights burned out and the fire flickered lower. The wolf-man with his head in his hands thought gloomily upon his unhappy fate. Never was he to find friends, though he was true and honest and meant harm to no man.
"I have no sword," he thought; "hence I cannot defend myself against Hunding. If only I could find, somewhere in the world, that enchanted sword of which my father told me!" he cried, aloud in his despair. Suddenly, the logs in the fire fell apart and the flame flared high—it was Loge doing the bidding of Wotan, who, from Walhall, was watching the movements of the Universe—and in the blaze the sword hilt could be seen shining upon the tree. The gleam caught Siegmund's eye, but he did not know what he saw.
"What is that so bright and shining?" he said to himself. "Ah, it must be the memory of dear Sieglinde's brilliant eyes, which rested so often upon that spot before she left the room. It is because I love her and think of her that I fancy I see a jewel shining in the dark." Musing thus he became sadder than before. Again Loge flamed up high, and again Siegmund saw the gleam of the sword, but still he did not know what he saw, so the lonely wolf-man was again left in darkness. Then the chamber door softly opened and Sieglinde stole into the room. She had left Hunding sleeping.
"Guest," she whispered. "Art thou sleeping?" Siegmund started up joyfully.
"It is Sieglinde?" he whispered back.
"Listen! Make no sound. Hunding lies sleeping, overcome by the heavy drink that I have given him. Now, in the night, fly and save thy life. I have come to show thee a weapon. Oh, if thou couldst make it thine! Many have tried, but all have failed. It is only the strongest in all the world who can draw it from its strange sheath." Siegmund's glance wandered to where she pointed, and rested upon the sword hilt which the flame had shown him.
"I was given by my kinsmen to the cruel Hunding," she continued; "and while I sat sad and sorrowful on my wedding night, and my kinsmen gathered around rejoicing, there entered an old man, clad all in gray, his hat pulled low over his face, and one eye hidden; but the other eye flashed fear to all men's souls but mine. While others trembled with fear, I trembled with hope; because on me his eye rested lovingly. He carried a sword in his hand, and with a mighty stroke, buried it deep in the ash tree.
"'Only he who has a giant's strength can draw that sword,' he cried. After that, guests came and went, came and went, tried and tried; but none could draw the sword. So there it cleaves until this day. Ah! if thou couldst draw it out and save thy life! He who draws that sword shall also deliver me from Hunding," she added, wistfully.
At that, Siegmund leaped up and clasped her in his arms:
"Then in truth shall I draw it. It is I who shall free thee. And who but the God Wotan put the weapon there for thy deliverance? Thou sayst he had but one eye! Did not Wotan give one of his to win his wife,Fricka? Thou hast been guarded by the Gods themselves," he cried, and again clasping her to his breast he promised to free her forever from Hunding. "It is the weapon told of by my father, the wolf," he declared; and while they stood thus, the outer door swung noiselessly open and the moonlight streamed in.
"Ah! It is the Spring," he whispered. "The beautiful Spring! She has entered unannounced to bring us cheer and hope, it is an omen of good. I am no longer sad. I have found one to love who loves me, and a weapon to defend her." With a mighty wrench Siegmund pulled the sword from its bed and swung it above them.
WhenSieglinde and Siegmund had fled and while they were wandering, waiting for the battle which was certain to occur between Siegmund and Hunding, Wotan was preparing to send out his war-maid, Brünnhilde, from the palace of the Gods—Walhall. The warrior-maid had been given him by Erda, and she went forth each day to the ends of the earth, to guard all warriors. When men died in battle, she and her eight sisters, who were called the Valkyries, bore those heroes to Wotan, and they dwelt in Walhall forever. It was on the day of the battle that Brünnhilde and Wotan came to a high rock, armed and prepared for war. Wotan carried a magic spear.
"Listen, Brünnhilde! Thou art to hasten. There is this day to be a great battle between Siegmund, who is of the Wälsung race, and Hunding. As for Hunding, I want him not in Walhall. Yet it is Siegmund whom thou art to shield in the strife. Take thy horse and hurry forth." Brünnhilde, springing upon her beautiful horse,Grane, flew shouting over the rocks, loudly calling her battle-cry:
"Ho-jo-to-ho! Ho-jo-to-ho! Heia-ha, heia-ha, heia-ha!" This loud clear cry, rang from peak to peak, from crag to crag, while the maid on her enchanted horse flew away to summon her sisters. On a far peak she paused, and called back to Wotan:
"Have a care war-father! Thy Goddess, Fricka, comes drawn in her car by rams. She will give thee a great battle I fear; she swings her golden lash, and makes the poor beasts dance. I tell thee, war-father, thy Goddess has some quarrel with thee!" and laughing, Brünnhilde flew on her way. Fricka's rams, scrambling over the rocks, dragging her car behind them, landed her close to Wotan.
"So, Wotan, I must look the world over for thee!" she cried angrily. "I have no time to chide thee, however. The hunter Hunding has called to me for help. He is sorely pressed. Siegmund is his foe, and has taken the magic sword from the ash tree. With that sword he is invincible. He has carried off Hunding's wife, and I, the Goddess of Home and Domesticity, must avenge him. I have come to warn thee not to interfere for Siegmund. I shall help Hunding."
"I know of thy Hunding," Wotan answered, frowning. "And I know no harm of Siegmund. It was the beautiful Spring which united the pair. Am I to overwhelm these two with ruin because thy cruel Hunding has come to thee for help? Spring's enchantment was upon Sieglinde and Siegmund."
"What, ye speak thus to me, Wotan? When those two had been united in holy wedlock——?"
"I do not call so hateful a union, 'holy'," Wotan answered, sternly.
"Thy words are shameful. I have come to tell thee thou shalt take back the magic power thou hast given to Siegmund with the sword. I know well he is thy son, and that thou wandered upon the earth as a wolf, leaving behind thee this sword, invincible, for thy beloved wolf-boy, but I declare to you, I shall give you henceforth no peace till the sword is taken from him. Hunding shall have his revenge! The conduct of these mortals is shameful. But when Gods, such as thou, misbehave, what can be expected of mere mortals?" Fricka sighed. "However thou may seek to free thyself or defend thyself, I am thy eternal bride; thou canst not get away from me, and if thou wouldst have peace, thou wilt heed me. See to it that the wolf-man loses his life in this encounter." Fricka, for all the world like a shrewish, scolding mortal wife, quite overwhelmed the unhappy War-god.
"But what can I do, since I should have to fight against my own enchantments?" Wotan urged, hoping to save his beloved wolf-son.
"Thou shalt disenchant the sword. The magic thou gavest thou canst destroy." The quarrel was at its height, when Brünnhilde's cry could be heard afar.
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"Ho-jo-to-ho-ho-to-jo-ho! Heia-ha, heia-ha, heia-ha!" Brünnhilde came leaping down the mountain again, upon her horse, Grane. Seeing a quarrel was in progress between the Goddess and Wotan she became quiet, dismounted, and led her horse to a cave and hid him there.
"There, Wotan, is thy war-maid now. Pledge me thine oath that the magic sword which Siegmund bears, shall lose its virtue! Give thy war-maid instruction." Fricka urged this in a manner calculated to show Wotan there would be no more peace in Walhall if he flouted his wife. He sat down in dejection.
"Take my oath," he said miserably; and thus Sieglinde's and Siegmund's doom was sealed. Fricka triumphantly mounted into the car drawn by rams, and in passing, spoke to Brünnhilde.
"Go to thy war-father and get his commands." Brünnhilde, wondering, went to Wotan.
"Father, Fricka has won in some encounter with thee, else she would not go out so gaily and thou sit there so dejected. Tell me, thy war-child, what troubles thee!"
At first Wotan shook his head, but presently his despair urged him to speak and he told Brünnhilde the story of the Rheingold and the ring of the Nibelungs.
"I coveted what was not mine," he said. "I got the gold from Alberich and in turn Fafner and Fasolt got it from me. Fafner killed his brother for love of the gold, and then turning himself into a dragon, set himself to watch over the gold forever. It was decreed by the Fates—Erda's daughters—that when Alberich should find a woman to love him, the overthrow of the Gods was at hand. Alberich had bought love with the treasure. Our only hope lay in the victory of some hero in whose life I had no part. I left for such a one a magic sword, so placed that only the strongest could draw it. He had to help himself before I gave him help. Siegmund has drawn the magic sword. If he had won in the battle with Hunding, the Eternals would have been saved; but Fricka demands that Hunding shall win the fight and a God must sacrifice all Walhall if his wife demands it. He had better be dead than browbeaten forever." Wotan almost wept in his anguish. "So must the Eternals face extermination. A wife can crush even a God!"
"What shall I do for thee, Father Wotan?" Brünnhilde cried distractedly.
"Obey Fricka this day in all things. Desert Siegmund and fight on Hunding's side." Wotan sighed heavily.
"Nay, I shall defy thy commands for once," she declared, but at this Wotan rose in wrath.
"Obey me!—or thy punishment shall be terrible. To disobey would be treason to the Gods." He strode away.
Brünnhilde put on her armour once more.
"Why is my armour so heavy, and why does it hurt me so?" she asked of herself. "Alas! It is because I donned it in an evil cause." Slowly she went toward the cave where her enchanted horse, Grane, was hidden.
Now that the Gods had forsaken them, the two lovers, Sieglinde and Siegmund, were in great danger, and Sieglinde, without knowing why, was filled anew with fright. She hurried painfully along, assisted by Siegmund who was all the time lovingly urging her to stop and rest.
"Nay," she answered always; "I cannot rest because I hear Hunding's hounds who would tear thee in pieces, if they caught thee." At that very moment they heard the blast of Hunding's horn in the distance.
"There he comes with all his kinsmen at his back, and they will surely overwhelm thee," she cried in distress; and fell fainting with fear.
As Siegmund placed her tenderly upon the ground, Brünnhilde came toward them from the cavern, leading her horse.
She regarded Siegmund sorrowfully and said in a troubled voice:
"I have come to call thee hence, Siegmund." The youth stared at her curiously.
"Who art thou?" he asked.
"I am Brünnhilde, the Valkyrie; and whoever I look upon must die."
"Not I," Siegmund answered, incredulously. "I fight with the enchanted sword of Wotan. My life is charmed. I cannot die."
"Alas!" she answered, then paused. Presently she spoke again. "Whoever looks upon me must die, Siegmund," she said earnestly.
"When I have died, where do I go?" he asked. He was not sad at the thought of giving up a life so full of strife.
"Thou goest to Walhall to dwell with the Eternals."
"Do I find there Wotan, and the Wälsungs—my kinsmen who have gone before me?"
"Aye," she answered—"And Wish-maidens to fill thy drinking cup and to cheer thee. It is the home where heroes dwell, forever and forever."
Siegmund's face glowed with hope.
"And Sieglinde?" he cried.
"Ah, not she. She must stay yet a while behind thee."
Then a terrible change came upon Siegmund and he frowned at the Valkyrie.
"Begone! Thinkest thou I go to thy Walhall without Sieglinde? Begone! What do you of the Gods know of love such as ours. Walhall is not for me. I carry the enchanted sword given by Wotan. This day I kill Hunding, and live my life in peace with Sieglinde."
Brünnhilde could no longer let him deceive himself.
"The enchantment of thy sword is gone!" Siegmund started. "Wotan deserts thee. To-day thou must gohence with me. Hunding will kill thee." For a moment Siegmund regarded the Valkyrie, then drawing his sword, he turned to where Sieglinde was lying, still unconscious.
"What wouldst thou do?" Brünnhilde cried.
"Kill Sieglinde, to save her from Hunding's wrath."
"Leave her to me," Brünnhilde entreated, moved with pity. "I swear to thee I will preserve her. Leave her with me."
"With thee—when Wotan himself has tricked me? Nay. The Gods are no longer trustworthy," he said, bitterly, turning again to Sieglinde. Brünnhilde, overcome with pity and admiration for such devotion between mortals—a love more steadfast than the promises of the Gods themselves—sprang forward to stay him.
"Do not! I will preserve thee—thee and thy Sieglinde. I am here to guard Hunding, but it shall not be so. I will shield thee in the fight. I will brave the wrath of Wotan for such love as thine and Sieglinde's. If the magic of thy sword is destroyed, the power of my shield is not. I will guard thee through the fight. Up! Renew thy courage. The day is thine, and the fight is at hand." Mounting her horse, Grane, the Valkyrie flew over the mountain tops and disappeared. Siegmund's despair was turned to joy and again hearing Hunding's horn, he turned to go, leaving Sieglinde to sleep till the fight was over. The storm-clouds gathered, and all the scene became hidden.
Lightning flashed and thunder rolled ominously. Siegmund bent to kiss Sieglinde and disappeared in the blackness of the storm. All the heavens and earth spoke of warand death. The air grew thick with vapours, and lightning cleft the hills. Siegmund called through the darkness to Hunding to face him for the fight, and at the sound of his voice and the horns and the shouting of battle, Sieglinde awoke. She could see naught, but could hear the sounds of war. Her fear for Siegmund returned. She shrieked and ran toward the storm-shrouded mountain. The skies were rent, and high upon the rocky peak, Hunding and Siegmund stood forth in battle.
"The Goddess Fricka is with me!" Hunding shouted.
"Away with thy Goddess! It is the Gods who support me" Siegmund answered, bravely swinging his sword. Instantly Brünnhilde floated above the warriors. She interposed her burnished shield between Siegmund and the sword of Hunding, and cried:
"Thrust, Siegmund! Thy sword shall preserve thee!" Instantly the whole earth was filled with a dazzling fire, in which Wotan appeared, foaming with rage. He thrust his spear to catch the blow of the wolfling's sword, which broke in half upon it; while Hunding's point pierced Siegmund's breast. Brünnhilde fell at Wotan's feet, while with a shriek Sieglinde in the glade below fell as if dead. While Wotan faced Hunding, Brünnhilde rushed down the mountain to save Sieglinde. Taking her in her arms she sprang upon Grane and flew for the rock of the Valkyries.
"Now go, thou miserable being," Wotan thundered at Hunding, and waving his spear at him, the man fell dead.
"Now Brünnhilde, for thee! and for thy punishment!" he cried in an awful voice, and amidst the crashing of Donner's hammer against the sides of the universe and flames from heaven, Wotan disappeared.
Awayon a far mountain, the Valkyries were waiting for Brünnhilde's coming. They were her sisters: Gerhilde, Ortlinde, Waltraute and Schwertleite, seated upon a high place, dressed in their armour. From time to time they gave the cry of the Valkyries:
"Ho-jo-to-ho! Ho-jo-to-ho! Heia-ha, heia-ha, heia-ha!" Soon this call was answered by Helmwige, who could be seen coming on her horse, with a slain warrior tied to her saddle.
The Valkyries were arriving from the four quarters of the earth—each bearing a slain warrior. At last, all but Brünnhilde had come.
"We cannot go to Wotan without her," they said among themselves. "She is his favourite and she brings to him those heroes he most desires. We must not start for Walhall till she has come." Thus they talked among themselves, now and then sounding their cry and laughing over the misfortunes of mortals. At last one called:
"Look! Brünnhilde is coming in wildest haste. Look, look! Her pace is so furious that the horse staggers. What lies on her saddle?" All peered in amazement into the vale below.
"It is no man," one cried.
"It is a maid," shouted another.
"She does not greet us." They ran to help her from her horse, shouting their war-cry as they went, and returned supporting Sieglinde, while they surrounded Brünnhilde and questioned her wildly.
"Shield us!" she cried to them. "I am pursued. The war-father is coming after me. He is foaming with rage.Hide us, shield us." All looked at her in consternation.
"What hast thou done?" they questioned.
"Who can shield thee from our father's wrath, Brünnhilde?" one cried.
"I see him not," one who was on the look-out called. "But a fearful storm gathers."
"It is Wotan. Our father rides upon the storm. Oh, shield this poor wife," Brünnhilde called.
"Alas! the storm increases."
"Then he is near. His anger increases as he comes," Brünnhilde cried in terror. "Now who will lend me a horse to put this poor wife upon?" None dared brave the wrath of the God.
"All of you are silent," she said at last, in despair. Turning to the fainting Sieglinde, she cried:
"Up! Take the way to the east. There dwells the dragon, Fafner, and near him Alberich also watches. That is the only place in the world Wotan avoids. Go thou, and I will detain the Father till thou art far and safe. Take these pieces of the magic sword. I snatched them when Siegmund fell. Give them to thy son and Siegmund's, and that son shall be named Siegfried. With these sword-pieces again made whole, the sword shall win the world for that son of thine." With these words she turned Sieglinde's face toward the east, while she herself stood waiting.
Sieglinde was no sooner gone than the storm grew more fierce, and Wotan called with a loud voice from the clouds:
"Brünnhilde!" Full of fear she sought to hide herself in the midst of her sisters.
"He is coming, sister," they shouted. All the forest about them was lighted up with a lurid fire, and Wotan came raging through the midst of it.
Striding from the wood he called again:
"Come forth! Naught can save thee from thy punishment." Without hope, Brünnhilde came from the company of her sisters and threw herself on her knees before Wotan. He looked at her in pity because he loved her dearly.
"For thy treason to the Eternals and to me, I doom thee to roam the earth as a mortal woman. I take thy glory from thee. Walhall shall know thee no more. Thou art forever cast out from us. Henceforth thy fate shall be to spin the flax, to sit by the hearth, a slave to man." He could not look upon her because he loved her so.
At this, all the Valkyries cried out.
"Away!" he called to them. "Her punishment is fixed and whoever tries to help her shall share her fate."
At this threat, all fled wildly to their horses, and shrieking, flew away, leaving behind them a sound of rushing and a streaming light.
Wotan regarded Brünnhilde mournfully. She raised herself and tried to move him with her tears.
"If I am doomed to become mortal, to suffer all mortals' ills and woes, remember still that my treason was partly for love of thee. I knew Siegmund was dear to thee. Wilt thou not pity me a little?" Her pleading was so mournful that Wotan at last listened to it.
"Brünnhilde, I will guard thee from the worst. Sincethou must become as mortals are, and the slave of man, I will guard thee from all but the brave. I will enchant thee into a sleep from which only a hero can wake thee. Fire shall surround thee, and he who would win thee must pass through the flame." He kissed her on the eyelids which began to droop as with sleep, and he laid her gently down upon a little mound beneath a fir tree. He closed her helmet and laid upon her her shining shield, which completely covered her body. Then he mounted a height.
"Loge!" he called, and struck the rock three times with his spear. "Loge, Loge, Loge! Hear! Once I summoned thee, a flickering flame, to be companion of the Gods. Now, I summon thee to appear and wind thyself in wavering, dancing, fairy flame, about the fallen. Loge, I call!"
A little flashing flame burst from a riven place. It spread, it crept, it darted and stung; catching here, clutching there, fading, leaping, higher, higher, higher, till all the world was wrapped in fire. The shooting tongues drew about the God, who, stretching forth his magic spear, directed it toward the rock on which the Valkyrie lay asleep. The fiery sea spread round and in its midst Brünnhilde slept safely.
"He who fears my spear-point, may not cross the flame," he said, pointing his spear toward the tomb of fire; and then, with backward glances, the God of War passed through the flame and was seen no more.
Siegfried.Alberich.Mime.Fafner.The Wanderer.Erda.Brünnhilde.
In acavernous rock in the forest, hammering upon an anvil, was a complaining Mime. As he hammered, the sparks flew from the sword which he was forging.
"Alas!" he cried, muttering to himself, as he worked at his task; "Alas! Here I am, day after day, trying to forge a sword which Siegfried cannot break. I, who have made swords for giants, am yet unable to satisfy this stripling."
At this the Mime flung the new-made sword upon the anvil with a crash, and stood gazing thoughtfully upon the ground.
"Thereisa sword to be forged which even that insolent boy cannot break; a sword which, if the race of Nibelungs could wield it would win them back the treasure and the ring. This sword must kill the dragon, Fafner, who guards that ring—the magic sword, Nothung! Butmy arm cannot forge it; there is no fire hot enough to fuse its metal! Alas! I shall always be a slave to this boy Siegfried; that is plain." While he lamented thus, Siegfried, himself, ran boisterously into the cavern, driving a great bear before him. The youth was dressed all in skins, wore a silver hunting-horn at his girdle, and he laughed as bruin chased the Mime into a corner.
"Tear this tinkering smith to pieces," Siegfried shouted to the beast. "Make him forge a real sword fit for men, and not for babes." The Mime ran about, shrieking with fear.
"There is thy sword, Siegfried," he shouted, pointing to the sword which he had thrown on the anvil.
"Good! Then for to-day thou shalt go free—the bear can eat thee another day?" he cried, mockingly; and giving the bear a blow with the rope which held him, the beast trotted back into the forest.
"Now to test thy great day's work! Where is this fine sword? I warrant it will be like all the others; fit only for a child's toy." The Mime handed him the sword saying:
"It has a fine, sharp edge"; thus trying to soothe the youth.
"What matters its edge if it be not hard and true?" he shouted irritably, and snatching the sword from the Mime's hand he struck it upon the anvil and it flew in pieces.
Siegfried flew into a great rage, and while he foamed about the smithy, the Mime got himself behind the anvil, to keep himself out of the angry fellow's way. When Siegfried's anger had spent itself, the Mime came from the corner and said solicitously:
"Thou must be hungry, my son."
"Don't call me thy 'son,' thou little black fool," the boy again shouted. "What have I to do with a misshapen thing like thee, whose heart is as wicked as its body is ugly? When I want food, I'll cook it." The Mime held out a bowl of soup to him, but Siegfried dashed it to the ground.
"Did I not rescue thee from the forest when thou wert born, and have I not fed and clothed thee?" he whimpered.
"If so, it was for no good purpose. I know thee." Siegfried had a marvelous instinct which told him good from evil. "Dost know why I go forth and yet return, day after day?" he asked presently, studying the Mime's face thoughtfully. "It is because I mean to learn from thee something of my mother and my father." Siegfried's voice had become gentle, and full of longing.
"What can I tell thee?" the Mime replied, craftily. "I found thy mother ill in the wood, and brought her to my cave, where I tended her till thou wert born. I know nothing of thy father—except one thing." He paused, considering whether or not he should reveal what he knew about the good sword, Nothung.
"Well, get on with thy tale. I will know it all," Siegfried threatened.
"Thy mother carried the fragments of a sword which had been thy father's, and when she died at thy birth, she named thee Siegfried and gave to me the pieces, saying if thou couldst reweld the sword, so as to make it new, it would win thee the world. The sword's name is Nothung."
"Where are those pieces," Siegfried roared, starting up and menacing the Mime.
"Do not set upon me so fiercely—I will give them to thee," the Mime pleaded, and taking the pieces from acleft in the rock, he gave the youth a sword in two parts. "It is useless to thee, I tell thee frankly; I could not make thee the sword. There is no fire hot enough to fuse the metal, and no arm strong enough to forge it—not even mine, which has fashioned swords for giants."
Siegfried shouted with joy.
"Thou old thief, have the good sword done ere I return or I will have the bear swallow thee at a gulp." Leaping with joy he went back into the forest. The Mime sat down in great trouble. He did not doubt Siegfried's word—yet he knew that he could never make the sword. He fell to rocking himself to and fro upon the stone seat, while he thought of what he should do to excuse himself upon Siegfried's return.
In the midst of his trouble a strange man entered the cavern, dressed in a dark blue cloak which nearly hid him. On his head was a great hat pulled low over his face, but one fierce eye shone from under it. When the Mime saw him, he felt new fear.
"Who art thou?" the Mime demanded in an ugly tone, as the Wanderer stood watching him reflectively.
"I am one who brings wisdom, and whom none who have good hearts turn away. Only the evil turn from me. The good offer me shelter." The Mime, seeing only his own cunning and wickedness reflected in the Wanderer, tried to think how he should rid himself of one he believed had come to harm him. He thought the Wanderer must be a spy, but in reality, he was the God Wotan, who had seated himself upon the hearth, and was watching the Mime.
"Listen!" he said, beholding the Mime's fear; "ask of me what thou wilt and I shall lighten thy burden, be it what it may." He looked long and curiously at the Mime and could read his heart.
"Wilt answer me three questions?" the Mime demanded.
"Aye—and stake my head upon the truth of the answers."
"Then tell me what race it is that dwells in the depths of the earth."
"It is the Nibelung race, and Nibelheim is their land. There, all are black elves, and once upon a time, Alberich was their lord. He tamed them with the spell of a magic ring formed of the Rheingold. Ask on."
"What is the race which dwells upon the surface of the earth?" The Mime asked, less timidly.
"It is the race of Giants. Riesenheim is their land and Fasolt and Fafner were their rulers, but, possessing themselves of the Nibelung's gold, they fought, and one killed the other; till now, Fafner alone, in the form of a dragon, guards the hoard and ring. Speak on."
"Thou hast told me much," the Mime said, wondering. "But now canst thou tell me who are they who dwell upon cloud-hidden heights?"
"They are the Eternals, and Walhall is their home. Wotan commands that world. He shaped his spear from the branches of an ash tree, and with that spear he rules the Gods. Whoever wields that spear rules all the giants and the Nibelungs." As if by accident, Wotan—the Wanderer—struck the spear he carried upon the ground and a low roll of thunder responded. The Mime was terror-stricken.
"Well, Mime, is my head which I pledged to thee, free?"
"Aye, go."
"If thou hadst welcomed me, I could have solved thy problems for thee, but I had to pledge my head to thee before I could rest here. So now, by the law of wager, this matter is now reversed. It is for thee to answer me three questions—or lose thy head. Tell me, then: What race does Wotan the War-god favour?"
"Ah, I can answer that: it is the Wälsungs—a race sprung from wolves. The Wälsungs' mightiest son is his care. His name is Siegfried."
"Now tell me the name of the sword with which this same Siegfried is bound to conquer the world, to kill the dragon Fafner, and to get the Rheingold and the ring?"
"The name of the sword is Nothung," the dwarf replied, not daring to keep silence.
"Now one more answer, as wise as those gone before, and thy head is free: Who shall fashion this same sword, Nothung, for Siegfried?"
At this question the Mime leaped up and flung his tools all about in rage.
"I know not who has the power to make the sword," he screamed.
"I will tell thee," the Wanderer answered, smiling contemptuously upon the Mime. "The sword shall be forged by one who has never known fear. Now thy head is forfeit, but I shall leave it on thy shoulders for that same man—he who knows no fear—to strike from thee." Still smiling at the terror-stricken Mime, the Wanderer passed out into the forest.
He had no sooner gone, than the Mime began to think upon the last words he had spoken. He was to lose his head by the stroke of one who had never known fear.The only one the Mime knew who was fearless was Siegfried. Then unless Siegfried could be made afraid, he would one day strike off the Mime's head.
When Siegfried returned to the cavern, the Mime began to tell him that he must learn to fear, before he could go forth into the world to seek adventures. He told Siegfried of the horrible dragon, Fafner, who guarded the Rheingold and the Ring, thinking to strike terror to the youth's heart; but Siegfried became at once impatient to go in search of the dragon, that he might know what the experience of fear was.
"Where is that strong sword you are to make for me?" he demanded, being thus put in mind of it again. The wretched Mime knew not what to answer.
"Alas!" he sighed; "I have no fire hot enough to fuse the metal."
"Now by my head, I will stand no more of thee!" Siegfried shouted. "Get away from that forge and give me the sword's pieces. I'll forge that sword of my father's and teach thee thy trade before I break thy neck." So saying, he grasped the fragments of the sword, began to heap up the charcoal, and to blow the bellows. Then he screwed the pieces into a vise and began to file them.
"Use the solder," the Mime directed. "It is there, ready for thee."
"Solder? What should I do with solder?" he said, and continued to file the pieces till the file was in shreds. In time he had ground the pieces to powder, which he caught in a crucible and put upon the fire. While heblew the bellows with a great roaring of the fire, he sang the song of Nothung, the invincible sword.
music
[Listen]
As the Mime watched that easy forging of the mighty weapon, he believed that Siegfried was the one who would slay the dragon as Wotan had foretold. If he did thatthen he surely would possess himself of the treasure and the ring. So the Mime fell to planning how he could get the gold into his own hands. Siegfried knew nothing of gold and power, and so, why should he not willingly hand the treasure over to the Mime? Then the Mime would determine that Siegfried should perish, and by the ring's magic his destruction would come about, leaving the Mime lord of all. So the Mime decided it was well that Siegfried should forge the sword, because the Mime, even if he had such a sword, had known fear, and therefore, could not kill the Dragon with it. Siegfried must do this and the Mime should profit by it, and afterward kill Siegfried. Thus he reasoned. All this time Siegfried had been at work upon his sword. He had poured the molten metal into a mould, and held the mould high above his head. Presently he plunged it into cold water, and a great hissing of steam occurred. Again he thrust the sword into the fire to harden it the more, and meantime the Mime was fussing about the fire, making a broth.
"What is the devil's brew thou art making," Siegfried demanded giving him a lowering look.
"Something to take with us upon the journey to the Dragon's lair."
"None of it for me," Siegfried shouted. "I'll have none of thy brew."
But the Mime reasoned that by the morrow, when Siegfried would have slain the Dragon and have found himself weary, he would gladly drink of the broth. As it was poisoned, it would kill Siegfried as soon almost as he had killed the Dragon.
At last the broth was finished and poured into a bottle ready for taking, while the sword was done at the sametime, Siegfried having tempered it and tested its point and its strength a little.
"Now," shouted Siegfried, "if the good sword will stand, let us go." He stood before the anvil, swung Nothung about his head, and with a frightful blow he cleaved the anvil from top to bottom so that the halves fell apart with a great crash. The sight was more than the Mime could bear and he stood palsied with fear of such tremendous strength.
"Yes, yes, let us be off," he cried, when he could speak again. He longed to have the Dragon dead and Siegfried dying; only then would he feel safe.
Swinging the great sword about his head, Siegfried started off into the forest, in search of adventures.