PREFACE
The Story of the Rhinegoldcontains the four operas of Richard Wagner’s “Nibelungen Ring,” arranged for young people. The “Nibelungen Ring,” or “Nibelungen Cycle,” is built upon a colossal foundation: a number of the great Teutonic myths, welded together with the most masterly skill and consistency. It is evident that Wagner, like William Morris and other writers, has taken from the fragmentary mythological tales such material as would serve his purpose, adapting such incidents as he chose and as he considered appropriate to his work. But there are so many different versions of these old stories that it is very difficult to trace Wagner’s plot to its original birthplace. The various tales contained in the ancient sagas are so seemingly contradictory that anything connectedly authoritative appears impossible to trace. Theone thing which seems to remain the same in almost all versions of the stories, ancient and modern, is the background of mythology, that great, gloomy cycle of gods, with the ever-recurring note of Fate which seems to have impressed all searchers in myths alike, and which inspired Wagner when he formed his mystical, solemn Fate motif.
Odin, Wuotan, Wodin, or Wotan, according to the different names given him in the old legends, is the central figure in the framework. If I read the story aright, the Norns, or more properly Nornir, are next in importance. They and their mother, the Vala, are the medium through which the relentless something behind the gods made itself felt in the world. The three sisters are named respectivelyUrðr,Verðandi, andSkuld—freely translated Past, Present, and Future; or, as they were once styled, as correctly perhaps, Was, Is, and Shall Be. It is a question whether Erda and Urðr, the oldest Norn, might not originally have been identical. Dr. Hueffer speaks of Erda as the “Mother of Gods and Men,” but though “the Vala” is often found in mythology, the name Erda is rarely mentioned, whereas the titles for the three Norns seem to be unquestionably correct. ThetermValais usually translated as Witch, or Witch-wife, but, though a Vala was indeed a sorceress, she was a prophetess as well.
A step lower than the gods, yet gifted with supernatural power and far removed from the characteristics of human beings, were the dwarfs and the giants. The giants, we are told, were creatures belonging properly to the Age of Stone, which explains the fact that there were left but two representatives of the race at the time of the Golden Age. The dwarfs come under the head of elves. They were gifted with the utmost cleverness and skill. The giants were stupid and clumsy, and, save for their superhuman strength and size, entirely inferior to the small, sly dwarfs.
The world was strangely peopled in those days; many of the heroes were demi-gods, that is, descended from some god or goddess, and witches, dwarfs, and sorcerers mingled with human beings.
Many mortals, also, had magic power then. Otter, the son of Rodmar, changed himself into the animal for which he was named, and while in the shape of the otter he was caught and killed by three of the gods who were wandering over the earth in disguise. Rodmar demandedweregild,[A]and Loki, with a net, caught Andvari, a rich and malignant dwarf, and commanded him to pay a ransom of gold and gems, enough to cover the skin of the otter; for such was the weregild demanded by Rodmar. Andvari, of necessity, gave the gold for his own release, even adding a wonderful wealth-breeding Ring to cover up a single hair in the skin which the rest of the treasures had left unconcealed. The dwarf cursed the Ring, and the curse attended it through all its manifold ways of magic, to the end of the story.
[A]Weregildis almost untranslatable. It may mean payment, tax, forfeit, or ransom.
[A]Weregildis almost untranslatable. It may mean payment, tax, forfeit, or ransom.
Rodmar’s remaining sons, Fafnir and Regin, killed their father and fought for the treasure. Fafnir obtained it, and, turning himself into a monster-worm, went to Glistenheath (sometimes called Glittering Hearth) to guard his wealth. Regin called upon Sigurd, a young hero, to aid him, and, being a master-smith, forged for him a sharp sword named Gram. Some versions give the forging of the sword to Sigurd, but there are many sides to the story. The sword was sometimes called Gram, and oftener Baldung, until Wagner gave it the more expressivename of Nothung, or Needful. Prompted by Regin, Sigurd slew the Dragon at Glistenheath, and, after tasting the blood by accident, was able to understand the language of birds, and was told by two of Odin’s ravens that Regin was treacherous. After slaying Regin, Sigurd rode away with two bundles of the treasures slung across his horse’s back. He found and awakened Brynhildr, a beautiful woman asleep in a house on a hill. (She is known in the different tales in which she has figured as Brynhildr, Brunhild, Brunehault, and Brünnhilde.) The next part of the tale is most clearly set forth in the “Nibelungenlied,” an epic poem in Middle High German dialect, containing a story—or, more correctly, a series of stories—which originally belonged to the entire Teutonic people. These have been found in multitudinous poems and sagas, from those written by the ancient Norsemen, and most primitive in form, to the modern books, essays, and poems of writers who have been impressed with the interesting and picturesque aspects of the strange, complicated old story. The “Nibelungenlied” itself deals rather with the period of Christianity—with the knights and ladies of the time of chivalry—than with the primeval gods and heroes of the Golden Age.The substance of its contents may be found in the “Edda” and in the “Thidrekssaga” (thirteenth century), and the original manuscripts of the “Nibelungenlied” itself date from the thirteenth to the sixteenth century.
The story contained in this poem is, briefly told, as follows:
Siegfried, son of Siegmund and Sieglind, woos Kreimhild, the sister of King Gunther, of Burgundy, promising, in return for her hand, to aid Gunther in winning Brunhild, Queen of Issland (Iceland). Siegfried, with the help of his cloud-cloak, conquers Brunhild for Gunther—first in three athletic games, which she makes a test for all suitors; and later when, after the marriage, she proves stormy and untamed. He takes her Ring and girdle, and gives them to his wife, Kreimhild. They possess magic properties, and Brunhild, when deprived of them, loses her great power and becomes like any ordinary woman. She sees her Ring on Kreimhild’s hand one day, and, realizing that it is Siegfried, and not her husband Gunther, who has conquered her great strength and stolen her magic circlets, she tells her wrongs to Hagan, who promises revenge. Hagan is the Knight of Trony, and he and his brother Dankwort are Gunther’s vassals.Hagan entices Kreimhild to reveal to him the secret of her husband’s safety in battle, and she tells him that Siegfried once slew a dragon and bathed in the blood, which made him invulnerable, save in one place, between his shoulders, where a leaf fell, protecting the skin from the blood. Kreimhild is entirely deceived by Hagan, and, not suspecting his treachery, she sews a circle of silk upon her husband’s vesture over the vulnerable spot, that Hagan may better know how to protect the hero’s one weakness when they are in battle. It is there, where the circle of silk is sewn, that Hagan stabs him.
There is much more in the “Nibelungenlied,” and a character famous in poesy and sagas is introduced later in the poem—Atli, or Attila, King of the Huns; but he has nothing to do with our story, though some one has drawn a resemblance between his character and that of Hunding. The “Nibelungenlied,” after Siegfried’s death, contains very little connected in any way with Wagner’s four operas.
There are other versions of this tale, as there are of all ancient stories. There are many tales of the killing of the Dragon and the awakening of Brunhild, and the personality and history of the latter have passed under diverse alterationsin color and development. One story says that Brynhildr, the Valkyrie, was made to slumber by her father Odin, who pricked her in the temple with a sleep-thorn. Many writers tell of a fire-circle which surrounded the sleeper and guarded her slumbers. She is known as a great queen, a woman gifted with magic powers, and a disobedient Walküre in different tales; and her character changes as constantly as her history in the various legends where we read of her. Sigurd, Siegfried, and Sinfiotli are, in many respects, so similar that they might safely be termed identical, though sometimes, as in William Morris’s “Sigurd, the Volsung,” they appear as distinct characters.
Out of this confused and complicated sea of myths, legends, and old Norse stories Wagner has drawn the material for his wonderful cycle.
His gods and goddesses are taken, with very few changes, directly from their original place—the Teutonic mythology. His giants and dwarfs are also unaltered as complete races. In his usage of them he differs in some respects from the older stories.
Fafnir, the son of Rodmar, becomes the giant Fafner, and his brother Fasolt is added. Regin is transformed into Mime, the master-smith. Insteadof Otter, who must be covered by gems, we have the love goddess Friea, and instead of the hair which the Ring must cover in the old legend, it is in Wagner’s adaptation one of Friea’s beautiful eyes. Fafner hides in Hate Hole instead of upon Glistenheath, and is killed by Siegfried instead of Sigurd. The lonely Walküres’ Rock takes the place of the house on the hill, and instead of being made invulnerable by the Dragon’s blood, Siegfried is protected by Brünnhilde’s spells—a fancy which seems more poetic and beautiful, but which originates, I believe, entirely with Wagner. Gutrune takes the place of Kreimhild, and Hagan is not Gunther’s vassal, but his half-brother. These are, after all, apparently slight changes, yet to Wagner’s cycle a new poetry seems to have come. The barbaric aspects of the tale have faded, and all the simple beauty of those wild, noble gods and demi-gods has gleamed forth as gloriously as the wonderful Rhinegold, which the master has made next in importance to the gods and the dusk of their splendor.
Before going further, perhaps it might be well to say a few words of explanation as to the motifs which form the key-notes of Wagner’s great musical dramas.
When he set his poem of the Nibelungen Ring to music, he was not satisfied with merely beautiful airs and harmonies linked together with no purpose save the lovely sounds. He wished, above all, to have his music fit his words; and for every character and thought and incident, and indeed for almost everything in his operas, he wrote a melody, and these descriptive musical phrases are calledmotifs. Each one has its meaning, and when it is played it brings the thought of what it describes and represents, and it makes a double language—what the characters on the stage are saying and what the music is saying, as well. Through the motifs we understand many things which we could not possibly comprehend otherwise.
That Wagner wished to give the impression that Erda was the mother of all beings, divine and human, at the beginning of the world, he has shown by the fact that the motif of the Primal Element—the commencement of all things—is identical with hers, save that where she is indicated the melody takes a minor coloring, denoting her character of mystery as well as the gloom in which her prophetic powers must necessarily envelop her. The contrasting, yet harmonizing, elements of earth and water are also shadowedforth, I think, in this motif of the Primal Element, which is used for theRhine, and also for the Goddess of theEarth. When the Vala’s daughters—the Nornir—are mirrored in the music, the same melody appears, fraught with the waving, weaving sound of their mystic spinning.
The motifs in Wagner’s operas are, above all, descriptive. For example, note the Walhalla, Nibelung, and Giant motifs.
The first of these, full of power, substance, and dignity, not only is descriptive of the great palace itself, but also represents the entire race of gods who inhabit it, seemingly secure in their conscious glory and sovereignty. To indicate Wotan, the King of the gods and the ruler in Walhalla, Wagner has constantly made use of this motif.
Its melody is measured, strong, and simple, and the nobility of those worshipped gods of primeval years seems to breathe through it.
The Nibelungs were so intimately associated with their work that they were scarcely more than living machines—soulless exponents of the art of the forge and the anvil; so when we hear in the music the beat of hammers—the sharp, metallic clang in measured time, our first thought is that the hammers are swung by the Nibelungs. How cramped is their melody, howmonotonous and hopeless is the regular fall of the hammers! When we hear it hushed and veiled with discords, we seem to come in contact with the narrow, darkened souls of the Nibelungs.
And now we come to the motif of the giants.
It is, like themselves, heavy, lumbering, with a slur that is like the stumbling of heavy feet. Clumsy and ungraceful, it and what it represents cross the idyllic beauty of the motifs of Friea, Walhalla, the Ring, the Rhinegold, and the rest, with a harsh and disagreeable sense of an inharmonious element. How different from the majestic gods, and the clever, small-souled Nibelungs, are these great creatures who are all bodies and no brains, and who are so ably represented by the music allotted them in the operas! Yet, in their own way, they and their motif are extremely picturesque!
In these three motifs we can see the genius which formed them, and so many others, even greater in conception and execution. Scattered throughoutThe Story of the Rhinegoldwill be found a few of these motifs—only a few and not the most lovely—but enough I think to help one, in a small way, to follow the operas withmore interest and understanding than if one did not know them.
One of the simplest motifs in the book is one of the most important: the Rhinegold motif. It is like the blowing of a fairy horn heralding to the world of sprites and elves the magic wonder in the river.
In the olden days they had a lovely legend of the formation of the Rhinegold. They said that the sun’s rays poured down into the Rhine so brilliantly every day that, through some magic—no one knew exactly how—the glowing reflection became bright and beautiful gold, filled with great mystic powers because of its glorious origin—the sunshine.
And that was the beginning of the Rhinegold.
A.A.C.