Stories from Wagner

It would be a longer story than all the "Stories from Wagner" put together, to tell where these tales began and how they grew. Centuries before they were set to music in the soul of Richard Wagner, some of them had been chanted around rude camp-fires by savage-looking men clad in the skins of animals. They were repeated by word of mouth long before even the rudest art of writing was learned; and in various lands they were known, though the stories often differed. For in those days men believed in spirits, good and bad, and in giants, dwarfs, gods and goddesses. They told these stories to their children, just as real history is taught to-day; and later the legends were treasured not only for their deep interest but also because they showed how people lived and thought, long ago "while the world was in the making."

When Wagner, the great music-dramatist of Germany, was writing his wonderful operas, he found much of this rich material lying ready at his hand. Other parts he adapted to suit his needs. And it is the form in which he used the tales that has been followed in the simple retelling in the present volume; hence the justice of the title—"Stories from Wagner." Let us pause a moment to see who this author was, and how he came to collect his themes.

Richard Wagner's career extended over the better part of the last century. He was born at Leipzig, May 22, 1813; he died at Venice, February 13, 1883. His whole life was a struggle, for his musical ideas were unlike any that had gone before. But he lived to witness a splendid triumph; and to-day his operas are produced more often than those of any other composer.

The following is the order in which the operas were first given:—

Rienzi, 1842
The Flying Dutchman, 1843
Tannhäuser, 1845
Lohengrin, 1850
Tristan and Isolde, 1865
The Master Singers, 1868
The Ring of the Nibelung, 1878
Parsifal, 1882

When Wagner was just beginning his career, he was in great doubt as to the choice of subjects for his operas. His first famous work, "Rienzi" was based upon Italian history. The English novelist, Bulwer-Lytton, has written a noted novel, using the same title and groundwork.

The legend of "The Flying Dutchman," which Wagner next chose, is one of the best-known sea-myths in existence. In every country sailors tell of a mysterious ship that is seen in times of danger or distress. The captain of this vessel bears many names, but it is believed that the varying tales are only versions of one original legend. The German poet, Heine, wrote one version, and from this Wagner obtained the first idea for his opera.

With "Tannhäuser," Wagner entered upon the purely German themes which he was thenceforth to find so rich a mine. This story like many others was extremely old, yet it had been treated only rarely. Ludwig Tieck had written some verses upon it, and from these Wagner got his idea. Owen Meredith, the English poet, has also given us a charming version entitled "The Battle of the Bards." While Tannhäuser himself has been seldom written about, Walter von der Vogelweide—the minnesinger, and friend of Tannhäuser in the opera,—is the subject of many poems, one of the last being by Longfellow. Sir Walter is set down in German history as an actual person, and many things are told about his marvellous gift of song.

Wolfram von Eschenbach—another historic character found in the operas—once wrote a famous old poem entitled "Parzival." Here Wagner discovered the germ of his beautiful story of "Lohengrin," following the lines of an old and well-nigh forgotten legend. The opera of "Parsifal" though not completed till more than thirty years later was also conceived at this time, and remained a cherished project. Legends of the Holy Grail, with which it deals, are familiar in every Christian country. There is much in the characters of both Parsifal and Lohengrin to remind us of Tennyson's Sir Galahad, in "Idylls of the King," which treats of the Holy Grail.

In "Tristan and Isolde" we have another legend which was well known during the Middle Ages. It was known in Wales, Ireland, Brittany and Germany where it was a frequent theme with minnesingers, or wandering minstrels, like Walter von der Vogelweide. One of the earliest German authors to write down a version of it was a certain Godfried of Strasburg; and Wagner had at his command this and numerous other versions. English poets, also, have been greatly attracted by the tale. Sir Walter Scott, in "Thomas the Rhymer," told the simplest version. Matthew Arnold, Tennyson, and Swinburne have given notable poems of some length on the subject.

During the Middle Ages, and particularly in the thirteenth century, the city of Nuremberg was the seat of a famous musical guild, or training-school for poets and singers. In his "Master Singers," Wagner has followed history for his scene, characters and traditions, though he has made droll use of them. The Master Singers have left substantial proof that they really lived. There are poems still in existence, signed by Sixtus Beckmesser, Veit Pogner and others; while Hans Sachs has left whole volumes behind, and his memory is so revered that he is looked upon almost as the patron saint of his city. Longfellow says in his poem on "Nuremberg":

"Here Hans Sachs, the cobbler-poet, laureate of the

gentle craft,

Wisest of the Twelve Wise Masters in huge folios

sang and laughed!"

Wagner also obtained his idea for the contest of song from one of Hoffmann's novels entitled "Sängerkrieg." He made use of the same idea in "Tannhäuser."

Although "The Ring of the Nibelung," Wagner's grand lifework, was not presented until 1876, he had been at work upon its four parts for more than twenty-five years previously. He had published the first two parts without their musical score, in 1853. The other operas which appeared in the meanwhile were but breathing-places, so to speak, in the greater labour he had set himself to perform.

Wagner was especially fortunate in his choice of subject. The Nibelungen myth was a great national epic—one of the oldest of the Teutonic race, dating back to the prehistoric era when Wotan, Fricka, Freia, Thor, Loki, and the other gods and goddesses were worshipped in the German forests. In the course of centuries several versions of the legend appeared, some being found even in Iceland under the name of "Eddas." In Germany a long epic poem came to be written by some unknown hand. It was called the "Nibelungenlied," and it is the most famous of all early German poems.

Of course Wagner had access to all this material. But he made so many changes from it in writing his own poem as to create a new story—one which, independent of the wonderful music which he wrote to accompany it, gives him place among the foremost writers of his nation. Volumes have been written pointing out the differences between his Nibelung story and the earlier legends.

But the purpose of this little book is not to criticise, dissect, or compare. After giving these few needful names and dates, we wish merely to follow the splendid fancy of this singer of songs and teller of tales wherever in the realm of storyland it may chance to lead us.

One further word, however, of frank admission. While the spirit of the original is adhered to, and very often the exact words are quoted, it has not been deemed best to follow the argument too closely. Instead, simplicity and directness have been considered preferable to the involved plots and symbolical actions of the operas.

The book is directed primarily to the needs of young people, and is sent out to them in the hope that some time they may hear the dull booming of the Rhine about the Gold, the magic fire as it sweeps to encircle the sleeping maiden, the forest voices which greet the young and fearless hero, the chorus of the pilgrims, and the song which won the bride for a prize. All these and many other good things are held in store by the future. Meanwhile "the story's the thing," and we who will never grow too old to believe in giants, dragons and dwarfs, and the brave heroes who ride over the world doing heroic deeds, can still be thankful that Wagner lived and dreamed his dreams of the past.

J.W.M.

The Ring of the Curse

(Der Ring des Nibelungen)

PART I

THE RHINE-GOLD

Hundreds of years ago in a wonderful time called the dawn of the world there lived many strange beings which do not now exist. Gods and goddesses dwelt in the clouds that hovered about the mountain peaks. Great untamed giants roamed amid the valleys. Swarthy, misshapen dwarfs, called Nibelungs[#], toiled in the caves of the under-world heaping up treasures of gold and silver which never did anyone any good. Ugly dragons crawled about on the earth; while beautiful water-nymphs lived in the rivers and seas. Lastly there were heroes and savage men who struggled together for the mastery in that far-off day when the world was in the making.

[#] Pronounced Nee-bel-oongs.

How the end came to all these strange things, and how the reign of the gods finally ceased, will be set down in this fourfold story I am about to tell you.

In the clear depths of the river Rhine, in Germany, once dwelt three water-nymphs—lovely maidens who were very like other maidens, except that they passed their whole lives under the water and could not be seen by ordinary eyes. Fair were they in face, and graceful in form. Their eyes beamed gladness, for they had never known sorrow; while their long golden hair floated about them like a garment, or tossed upon the wave-crest as they played some merry game of hide-and-seek amid the grottoes of their watery world. They were called the Rhine-Daughters, and thus in frolicsome play did they spend their days—free from all care save one. It was this care and the sorrow following close upon it that caused the present story to be told.

Upon one of the highest rocks, deep down in the bed of the Rhine, was stored a great lump of pure gold, brighter and more dazzling than any other treasure ever known. It was also more wonderful than any other gold, because it contained the power of making its owner master of all the world. This treasure had lain undisturbed in the river's bed for so long that it had come to be known as the Rhine-Gold. It was watched over by the Rhine-Daughters, in whose care their father had left it. This was their sole duty—to keep guard night and day lest some thief should come and steal the priceless treasure.

One bright morning the maidens seemed unusually merry. They darted in and out the caverns with a speed which left the flying-fish far behind. They laughed and chattered and sang, but glancing from time to time up at the precious Rhine-Gold, to see if it still glittered upon its protecting crag.

The Rhine-Daughters
H. Hendrich
By permission of F. Bruckmann, Munich

Presently their happy noise at play attracted a passer-by, who clambered upon one of the jutting rocks to see what it was all about. The new-comer stood in the greatest contrast to the three laughing girls. He was a dwarf, little and ugly and crooked, with a humped back and long, claw-like fingers to match the eager, grasping look in his small eyes. He was Alberich, of the race of the Nibelungs—the earth-dwarfs who dug for treasure in the underground caverns, and hammered and toiled without ceasing for the gold that never did them any good.

"Ho, ho!" he exclaimed to the maidens. "A fair morning to you!"

The nymphs started in alarm at the harsh, croaking voice. Nor did their first sight of the visitor reassure them. But they replied, civilly enough,

"A fair morning to you, sir!"

Then one of them darted swiftly upward, singing as she went

"Guard well the Gold;

'Twas just such a foe

Our father foretold."

Nevertheless Alberich had paid no attention to the Gold, so pleased was he by the nymphs and their gambols. And they in turn, losing their fear of the uncouth monster, and willing to tease him, asked him to catch them in their game of hide-and-seek. This he tried to do; but blinded by the unusual light, and stumbling awkwardly over the rocks, he could never keep up with their fairy-like antics. First one and then another would come near him or ascend the rocks, but it was always just beyond his reach. Finally their laughter and teasing made him angry, and he stopped short, refusing to be made sport of any longer.

Just then a ray of sunlight filtered down through the water and struck the Rhine-Gold. Instantly it glowed as though it were a mass of flame, reflecting a hundred shafts of light where one had smitten it. The whole river-bed was illuminated by the glorious rays.

The astonished dwarf looked toward the source of this splendour, and what he saw made his small eyes fairly bulge out with greed. Yet he concealed his amazement and waited to learn something about this splendid treasure without betraying his own interest. Fortune favoured him. His unspoken question was answered by the Rhine-maidens who surged upward with a glad cry of "The Rhine-Gold! The Rhine-Gold!"

"What is this Rhine-Gold you are talking about?" asked the dwarf with a great show of indifference.

"What! Haven't you ever heard of the wonderful Rhine-Gold?" asked one of the maidens thoughtlessly. "We supposed it was famed over all the world."

"But I dwell in the under-world and hear not the things which are spoken among men. Tell me of it, I pray."

Then the maiden forgot her father's warning to guard the treasure closely. She also felt nothing but contempt for this awkward little man from whom they could so easily escape. She told the secret of the Gold in the words of a song

"The realm of the world

To him shall it bring

Who out of this Gold

Shall fashion a Ring

Of magical power untold.

"Hum! Say you so?" said the dwarf, keeping his excitement down by a powerful effort, though his finger-nails fairly clawed into the flesh. "If your metal is as fine as all that, why doesn't someone lay hands upon it and do all these great things?"

"Sister, sister! be careful!" said another of the nymphs.

But the first only laughed and replied, "What can this silly old fellow do? Let us have some more fun teasing him!"

Then the third maiden floated gracefully near. "Why doesn't someone seize the Gold?" she repeated. "'Tis because no one has yet been able to pay the price."

"What is the price?"

"This is it," she answered. "Listen

"'He who forswears the might of love,

And all its pleasures manifold,

He only has the magic art

To mould the Ring from out the Gold.'"

"Pish! a pretty story you are telling me!" said the dwarf. "As though a little matter like doing without love should make a person master of the world!"

He made a great show of scorn while he said these words, but all the time he was edging quietly nearer the treasure.

"But love is the greatest thing in the world!" said the first maiden. "No one can do anything without its wonderful aid. Why, even you—poor old fellow!—would not dare forswear it."

"I would not dare forswear it—eh?" exclaimed the dwarf with a snap of his fingers and a wild laugh of triumph. "Love, forsooth! What is love to me, when gold is in question? Hark you, Rhine-maidens! I renounce love for ever! Be my witness!"

And he sprang rapidly forward, before the nymphs could prevent him, clambered up the jagged rock and seized the coveted treasure.

"Our Rhine-Gold! Our Rhine-Gold!" shrieked the maidens. But it was too late; already he had disappeared in one of the clefts of rock leading to his cavernous home, and though they darted after him they could not find him in the dark depths. Only his mocking laugh came back to them.

"Ho, ho! Love! When all the world shall be mine!"

Now we have already seen that the nymphs and the dwarfs formed only a part of the strange world, so long ago. At the very time when Alberich was stealing the Gold and preparing to make the Ring of Power down under the earth, there was an unusual happening in the home of the gods far up on the mountains.

For a long time Wotan, the greatest of the gods, had desired a palace large enough to contain his kingly court. But he could find no one strong enough to build it, until on a day two giants from the valleys below came into his presence. Large were they of shoulder and thigh, many times larger than ordinary men.

"We have come to build your palace," they said.

"Who are ye?" asked Wotan, looking piercingly at them with his single eye.

"I am Fafner, the frost-giant," answered one. "I can rend all these rocks asunder and build your palace in a single night, with the aid of my brother Fasolt, here."

Wotan was overjoyed to find someone who would undertake his cherished plan.

"What payment do you desire for this service?" he asked.

"You must give me the hand of your beautiful sister, Freia," answered Fafner.

Wotan frowned. He desired the palace above all things, just then, for it would enforce his visible rule over the world. But Freia was his favourite sister. Moreover, it was she who was the goddess of youth and beauty and who tended the tree of golden apples which kept the gods always young.

While Wotan was frowning and pondering to himself, his brother Loki whispered in his ear,

"Let them build the palace. We shall find another way out of the bargain."

Now Loki, god of fire, was the craftiest of all the gods. So when Wotan heard his whispered advice his brow cleared, and he looked at the giants.

"So be it!" he commanded. "Build me the castle 'gainst another sunrise. It shall be Walhalla—the supreme home of gods and men."

The giants bowed and went their way. Presently the sound of mighty blows was heard, and terrific crashes as of the bursting asunder of rocks. All that day and night the tumult continued, while the earth shook to its very foundations.

The next morning the rising sun lit up a splendid spectacle. There stood Walhalla, magnificent home of the gods, upon the crest of a towering cliff. Its white walls gleamed and glistened. Its towers and buttresses were built of stones so large that they seemed placed for all eternity; yet the whole mass appeared as light and graceful as a fairy vision.

"Beautiful! Wonderful!" cried the gods and goddesses in rapture.

"Let us take up our abode in our new home!" said Wotan, with the delight of a schoolboy.

But just then the two giants appeared clad in their shaggy skins of slain animals.

"Hold!" said Fafner. "First give us in payment the goddess Freia as you promised us."

"That I cannot do," replied Wotan. "You must think of some other way for me to reward you."

"Not so!" exclaimed the giants angrily, their hoarse voices making all the mountain quiver. "Give us the maiden, as you agreed, else we shall tear down the palace quicker than we built it."

And they placed themselves on each side of the trembling Freia.

"Touch her not!" cried two gods, as they sprang forth to protect their sister. "Do you not know," continued one, "that I am Thor, god of thunder, and that with one blow of my hammer I can crush you both?"

And he raised his hammer threateningly. But now the great Wotan interposed in his turn.

"Restrain your fury!" he commanded, stretching forth the dread Spear of Authority between the giants and the gods. "By this Spear the word of Wotan cannot be broken; and unless Fasolt and Fafner agree to accept other reward, they must e'en take our sister with them to the regions of frost."

At this command the contending ones fell back, but there arose a low cry of fear from the lovely Freia and a deep lamentation from the other gods. For how could they live without their sweet sister, she who gave them the apples of eternal youth?

Meanwhile Wotan had been casting his eyes impatiently from side to side. He was looking for his crafty counsellor, Loki, and wondering why he did not appear with his aid; since he it was who had promised to find a way out of the bargain.

"Come, decide!" said the giants, again stepping forward.

"Only one hour more," pleaded Wotan. "I must confer with my counsellor who is just now absent."

"Only one hour, then," replied the giants.

"Send out messengers in search of Loki, god of fire," commanded Wotan. "Let him be summoned instantly."

But at this moment who should appear but Loki himself, walking in unconcernedly and looking about in feigned surprise as though he were the last person anyone would wish to see.

"Good-morrow, all!" he said airily. "That is a beautiful castle I see upon yon mountain height. I have just been examining it from every side, and upon my word it would defy even my arts to destroy it!"

"Yes, yes," replied Wotan, impatiently, beginning to be a little ashamed of his fine Walhalla. "But that is not the point, just now. These giants demand our sister Freia as their reward; and you remember you promised to find a substitute for her."

The sly Loki arched his eyebrows in mock surprise.

"A substitute for her!" he exclaimed. "Why how could that be possible? I should think that Fasolt and Fafner would rather have her than all the treasures in the world. Is she not the goddess of youth and beauty?"

At this the two gods Thor and Fro raised their weapons in great anger, and would have fallen upon Loki, had not Wotan restrained them. He knew the cunning of the latter, and was persuaded that Loki had found a plan.

"Yes," proceeded Loki as calmly as though there had been no interruption, "all the riches in the world would not take the place of Freia. Even the far-famed Rhine-Gold would hardly answer. And, speaking of the Rhine-Gold, do you know that I have just heard a strange story.

"While passing along the banks of the Rhine, I became aware of the sound of pitiful weeping and wailing. I turned me about to see whence the doleful sound came, and I beheld the three Rhine-Daughters. They were no longer joyous and care-free as was their wont, but they were beating their breasts and tearing their hair while they cried, 'Our Rhine-Gold! Our Rhine-Gold! Stolen! Stolen!'"

"What! Have they suffered the Rhine-Gold to be stolen?" asked Wotan in alarm.

"'Tis as they said; for I stopped and questioned them. They said that the dwarf Alberich had seized upon the treasure and fled away to his earth-caverns, where he was even now making the magic Ring of Power. He has set himself up as King of the Nibelungs, and he purposes to rule the whole world."

The giants Fafner and Fasolt leaned eagerly forward and drank in every word of Loki's story—as indeed he had intended they should.

"Ah! that would be a prize worth having!" they exclaimed, rubbing their huge hands. "Mighty Wotan, if thou wilt wrest this treasure from the Nibelung and give it to us, we will release the goddess."

But Wotan again grew disturbed and silent. He knew that the Gold rightfully belonged to the Rhine-Daughters, and that it would prove a danger even to the gods themselves, unless it were returned. The giants saw their advantage and followed it up.

"Decide for yourselves," they said, laying bold hands upon Freia. "Our work is done and we claim the reward. Either this maiden or the Rhine-Gold. And until you decide, she must follow us to the frost-land."

And unmindful of her cries of distress the giants bore Freia away, across the cliffs and down the mountain-side, the gods standing powerless to prevent.

As they stood gazing in dismay a thin mist arose from the valleys, and it seemed to touch all the gods with blight, as it were a frost. For the goddess of youth and beauty was gone, and old age had already begun to lay hand upon those that remained.

"Come, this will never do!" exclaimed Loki in jeering tones. "Will you stand in your tracks and let old age blight you?"

And then he began to taunt each of the gods separately, as was his wont.

"Look!" cried Fricka, wife of Wotan, "the golden apples even now are withering. Wotan, husband, behold thy doom! See how thy compact hath wrought ruin and wreck for us all!"

Wotan started up, fired by a sudden resolution.

"Up, Loki!" he commanded. "Follow me. We must fare to the caverns of night and seize upon this Gold."

"And then——?" asked Loki. "The Rhine-Daughters implored thine aid. Wilt thou restore it to them?"

"'Tis idle talk," retorted Wotan moodily. "Freia the goddess of youth and beauty must be ransomed, else we shall all perish."

"Then let us hence," said Loki, who had gained the point at which he had aimed from the outset. "Let us hence. I know a cleft in the rock, which serves as a chimney for the Nibelung's forge fires. Perchance he is even now hammering out the Ring of Power. Come, let us descend into his cavernous dwelling."

So saying the god of fire wrapped his mantle about him and set forth, closely followed by Wotan with his dread Spear of Authority.

As two simple wayfarers they travelled down the rocky chasm—down, down, down, and still down, while the hammering from the forges grew louder and the sulphurous smoke came curling up more and more thickly, till it would have suffocated anyone but a god.

At last they emerged into a huge cave, around which hurried hundreds of queer little people, each as ugly and crooked and dirty as Alberich. They were blowing the fires, pounding away upon huge masses of metal, or scurrying about with arm-loads of gold, silver, and precious stones.

Just then the two wayfarers heard a quarrelling in a side passage of the cave, when in came Alberich himself dragging another dwarf shrieking by the ear. It was Mime, his own brother, but that made no difference with Alberich.

"Where's the helmet, you rogue?" he said. "It shall not be well with your skin if you don't give it up."

"Mercy, mercy!" howled Mime, the tears making little furrows down his dirty face. "I haven't got it done yet."

"Yes, you have! What is that you are trying to hide in your hands? Give it to me, I say!"

And Alberich seized the object which Mime had just dropped in terror.

"Ah! just as I thought!" continued the stronger brother. "Here is the magic helmet all complete; and this sly knave thought to keep it for himself. But I shall pay him for his treachery!

"Hark you, rascals!" he continued, turning to all the other dwarfs. "I am your king. Ye must henceforth serve me alone, and pile up all your treasure in the royal vaults. I have this day obtained the powers of magic which make you my servants. At this moment you see me not; but I shall make myself felt among you, I promise you!"

And with this speech he clapped the helmet upon his head and instantly vanished. But in his stead there came a pillar of mist, and out of the mist came his voice sternly commanding them to obey. Then the sharp lashes of a whip were heard right and left; and Mime fell groaning to the ground while the others retreated in terror, seemingly driven along a narrow way on the far side of the cavern. Alberich was beginning his reign with a vengeance!

Meanwhile the two celestial visitors had stood unnoticed in a side passage. While they debated as to the best means of making their presence known, Alberich came back in his true shape, carrying the helmet in his hand, fondling the Ring upon his finger and chuckling with glee. Then he espied the two gods, and his brow wrinkled darkly.

"Why come you to my caverns?" he demanded. "Know you not that I am king here, and that strangers are not welcome?"

"We have but come to see some of the marvels of which we have heard so much," said Wotan pacifically.

"Humph!" said Alberich. "You look quiet enough, but I think I know you both. Yet I fear you not, whether gods or men; for I am master here."

"And what if we are indeed gods, dear Alberich?" said Loki, taking off his mantle. "See, I am the god of fire, and your best friend. Do I not keep all your forges going?"

"Yes, that may be true," retorted Alberich. "But for all that I fear neither you nor Wotan the mighty. With this Ring made from the Rhine-Gold I can defy you all."

Alberich's accustomed low cunning had vanished before his sudden access of power. He was no match for the crafty god Loki.

"Oh, what a beautiful ring!" exclaimed the latter, bending forward admiringly. "Is it really made from the far-famed Rhine-Gold?"

"It is," said Alberich, swelling up. "I made it myself, and its possession gives me everything in the whole world except love."

"But some people think that love is the chief thing," said Loki.

"Pooh! that's because they haven't the gold I have. The two do not go together anyway, and never will. As for me, give me gold and power." And he kissed the Ring.

"But what if someone stole the Ring while you slept," persisted Loki.

"They couldn't," retorted the dwarf quickly. "See this helmet? That silly brother of mine yonder in the corner has just made it for me out of some more of this fine Rhine-Gold. With it I can change myself into any form I choose, and defy the slyest of robbers."

"Oh, that cannot be!" replied Loki. "Only the gods can do such things. Unless I saw such a marvel with my own eyes, I never would believe it."

Alberich looked with scorn upon this doubting fellow; then willing to prove his boast, he put the helmet upon his head and muttered a few words. Instantly he was gone, and in his stead a huge serpent came wriggling along the floor, stretching its hideous jaws toward Wotan and Loki. The latter fled in pretended terror, while Wotan laughed calmly. The snake then disappeared, and the dwarf once more stood before them.

"Now do you doubt my power?" he asked proudly.

"Oh, it was wonderful!" exclaimed Loki, rolling his eyes. "I couldn't have believed it possible! But I should think it would be a great deal harder to turn yourself into something small?"

"Not at all," replied the Nibelung. "Watch this!"

And before the gods were aware, he was gone again. They looked high and low, and there among the small stones a toad came hopping toward them.

"Quick, put your foot on him!" exclaimed Loki.

Wotan put his foot upon the toad, and instantly it was gone, and in its place Alberich lay struggling vainly to get out.

"Let me up! You are crushing me!" screamed the dwarf.

"Not until you give us every bit of the Rhine-Gold, the helmet and the Ring," said Wotan.

"You can have all but the helmet and the Ring; and there's a lot of it—beautiful Gold!" whined Alberich.

"No, all of it!" said Wotan.

"You can have the helmet, too. Ough! you're smashing me!"

"The Ring and all, I tell you! Here, Loki, bind him with that rope!"

"Then take the Gold, the helmet and the Ring!" cried the dwarf despairingly.

They bound him, and let him up. As soon as he could catch his breath, he continued,

"Take the Ring and all! But listen well to what I say. My curse rests upon it for ever. Cursed be he who owns it, whether eating or sleeping or waking. Cursed be he and all his, whether god or devil. Sorrow and unhappiness shall go with this Gold through all the ends of the earth!"

Notwithstanding this dread curse, the gods seized the Ring from off his finger and lost no time in making off with the treasure, leaving the dwarf grovelling upon the floor and muttering fierce words against them. All their care now was to ransom their sister and drive away the mists of old age.

On their way up the mountain height they met the two giants bearing away the struggling Freia in their clutches.

"Hold!" commanded Wotan; "bear her no farther. We have brought the gold to ransom her."

"Is it the far-famed Rhine-Gold?" asked Fafner.

"See for yourselves!" said Loki, casting the glittering heap upon the earth. "In all the world ye will not find its like."

The giants gazed greedily upon the hoard, and drew near to parley.

"'Tis indeed a wonderful treasure," they said; "but the mass must equal in height and breadth the stature of this comely goddess."

"So be it," answered Wo-tan, and he commanded that staves be set upright in the ground and that the Gold be heaped between them. Thor and Fro and others of the gods had now arrived upon the scene—all overjoyed at the prospect of Freia's release; for already the blighting mist was beginning to lift, though it yet concealed the fair towers of Walhalla. Meanwhile Loki had been careful to withhold the Ring and the helmet from the rest of the hoard, which was now quickly heaped up between the upright staves.

At last, just as the Gold was exhausted, the pile rose above the top of Freia's head.

"Here, take the treasure," said Wotan, "and release our sister unto us."

"Nay, not so," said Fafner. "I see a hole in the heap, and through it gleams the goddess's hair, brighter than any gold. You must fill the hole. Cast on the helmet which yonder Loki is bearing."

Wotan could scarce restrain his rage at this rude bartering of his sister, while the impetuous Thor fingered his mighty hammer nervously. But Wotan saw it was useless to refuse. He made a sign of command to the unwilling Loki, and the latter cast the helmet on the heap.

Fafner again walked around it looking closely on every side.

"Ah!" he exclaimed. "Here is just one more little crack. But through it I can see the gleam of the goddess's lovely eyes. You must place the Ring here to make the ransom complete."

"Never!" cried Wotan furiously.

"Very well, then. We shall be forced to take the goddess with us."

And once more Fasolt laid his rude hands upon the shrinking maiden.

Thereupon a great tumult began. The voices of the gods rose in entreaty to Wotan to give up the Ring and save their sister and themselves. Thor sprang forward with uplifted hammer, while the hoarse voices of the giants bade defiance to them all. Again the dread mist crept up from the valleys, and darkness descended from the clouds. Still Wotan remained defiant. He was turning away in anger from the tumult, when out of a cleft in the rock a weird bluish light broke forth, and there emerged a woman of dignified and noble mien. Her long black hair swept upon the ground, and her flowing robe seemed made of all the leaves and growing things of the soil. She was Erda, the spirit of Mother-Earth, gifted with wisdom and foresight such as was not given even to the gods themselves.

Erda stretched her hand out warningly toward Wotan.

"Yield, O Wotan!" she cried. "Escape the curse of the Ring, and all the hopeless woe it entails!"

"Who art thou, boding spirit?" demanded Wotan. And in a chanting voice came back the reply:

"All that was I know,

All that is I know,

All that ever shall be done,

This as well I know.

Erda the name I bear,

The Fates my daughters are,

Danger threatens dire,

This has drawn me near;

Hearken! hearken! hearken!

All that is shall end.

Heed ye well, ere dawn of doom,—

Beware the cursed Ring!"

As the chant ended, the bluish light died away and with it vanished the warning figure.

"O stay, dread spirit!" cried Wotan. "More would I learn!"

But only silence answered him; and after gazing into the darkness in anxious thought, he turned suddenly and approached the giants.

"Here is the Ring," said he sternly, drawing it from his finger and placing it upon the heap. "Begone, and leave us our sister! But a curse has fallen upon the Gold."

And so it proved. The gods themselves were witness of the first-fruits of the curse. For as the two giants fell greedily to work gathering up the treasure, a dispute arose. Fasolt claimed that Fafner was taking more than his rightful share. They came to blows over it, when Fafner smote Fasolt to the ground with a blow so heavy that it killed him. Then the victor, unmindful of his deed, hastily gathered up all the wealth and departed, while the gods stood around silent and amazed that the curse should descend so swiftly. And Wotan foresaw in this tragic moment the awful doom which was one day to descend upon them all, because the Gold had not been restored to the Rhine-Daughters.

But his gloomy thoughts were broken just then by a mighty crash, like a peal of thunder. There upon the cliff leading to the beautiful new palace which had cost so much, stood Thor wielding his hammer upon the encircling clouds. Flashes of lightning burst forth. The clouds and mist rolled away, revealing Walhalla in all its splendour; while from their feet, in dazzling radiance, gleamed a rainbow-bridge leading across the chasm to its portals.

"Come! let us go over to our new home!" said Wotan, taking his wife Fricka by the hand.

And followed by the laughing gods and goddesses, who surrounded Freia, fairest of the group, they went across the rainbow-bridge and entered the stately halls of Walhalla.

The setting sun shone brightly on the scene. The clouds had melted away into blue sky, leaving a soft radiance which seemed to encircle their new home in a halo of delight. The evening fragrance of the valleys came up to them redolent with the springtime of growing things. As they trod the shining pathway the jests and merriment of the gods showed their gladness in this new home that had been made for them at so great a cost.

Still Wotan was not happy. He had decided seemingly for the best; but as he crossed the arching bridge he heard voices from the valley far beneath him, rising like the tones of conscience or the warnings of fate. It was the mournful song of the Rhine-Daughters:

"Rhine-Gold! purest Gold!

How fair thy gleam,

Thy wealth untold!

But now thy rays

Light not the stream;

Ah! give them back—

Give back the gleam,

Rhine-Gold!"

PART II

THE WAR-MAIDENS

The new home of the gods proved to be as beautiful within as it had appeared without. When they had all crossed the arching rainbow-bridge, loud shouts of joy and admiration arose; for it was the most splendid palace that gods or mortals could ever imagine. Long porticos and galleries with huge sculptured pillars ran in every direction, leading to cool fruit arbours, or open courts where silvery fountains splashed. Great rooms opened up with ceilings so high that they seemed to take in the sky itself. The spacious floors were paved with burnished gold, and the walls set with polished stone and fine jewels, so that they blazed with light as bright as the noonday.

On every side of the palace were smooth greenswards, and groves of stately trees. And in the midst of the largest grove of all grew the wonderful tree bearing apples of gold, from which Freia fed all the divine family to make them immortal.

For a long time the gods and goddesses lived in Walhalla quite happily. Each morning they found some new beauty to admire. Each evening they came together for a feast or entertainment.

But in one heart there was no happiness, and that was the heart of the mighty Wotan himself. His beautiful home, the dream of his life, was finished. But at what a cost! The curse of the Rhine-Gold would come upon them, unless the stolen treasure were returned to its rightful guardians. The gods themselves would be destroyed, if they kept not their honour.

So Wotan sat apart from the rest, and his brow grew dark with forebodings. Fricka, his wife, gently chided him for his gloom but to no avail, and even the beautiful Freia could no longer make him smile. When any of the other gods praised the beauty of the palace, he would nod his head and answer; "Its price was great."

Finally Wotan could endure his anxiety no longer. Knowing that unless some way were found to restore the Gold they would be in constant peril, he resolved to consult Erda, the earth-spirit. So, one day he took his Spear of Authority and went forth into the world to find a way out of the trouble which had come to him with Walhalla.

The weeks grew into months and the months into years, while Wotan was gone. The other gods sought him in vain, but could hear no tidings. They wondered what had become of him, and the feasting and revelry gave way to sad forebodings. Only Fricka, the queen, went about with some measure of confidence.

"Be not sad," she said. "Wotan will return soon, bringing with him some great means of safety and content."

Fricka spoke true. One fair day at early dawn the gods were awakened by the sound of war-like singing. It was entirely different from their own music, and it seemed borne to them on the wings of the wind. Nearer and nearer came the song, swelling into a splendid strain of triumph. Then flying figures were descried, and the watchers at the window saw Wotan returning to them as it were through the clouds. He was in the midst of a company of maidens, whose faces were fair but who were strong and soldier-like. Each rode upon a powerful horse, and, wonder of wonders, the horses had wings like eagles and flew swiftly through the air!

There were nine of these horses and riders in all, and so fast did they ride that they had reached the palace gates, dismounted, and were being led within by Wotan almost before the first strains of music had died away.

You may believe that all the gods and goddesses were exceedingly glad when they saw Wotan again; and they hastened out upon the battlements to greet him and give him love and honour. To one and all he replied full pleasantly. His brow was clearer than it had been in many a day; and it was with the sprightliness of youth that he led the nine fair warriors up the broad palace steps. Then turning he addressed his court.

"These are the War Maidens," he said, "who come to guard our kingdom from its enemies. It is their mission to ride up and down in all the world, to choose the bravest heroes who have fallen in battle, and to bring them to Walhalla. With all these heroes we shall be protected from peril in the evil days to come."

Then Wotan introduced each War Maiden by name, beginning with Brunhilde who was the strongest and the loveliest. And they were welcomed royally to the palace by all who lived therein. The golden apples of life were given them to eat, and they became immortal.

Day by day the War Maidens rode forth into battle, seeking for the bravest men. Whenever they found one who had fallen in the forefront of conflict, they carried him to Walhalla where he became immortal. There was much fighting in the world in those days, so the palace soon received many mighty soldiers, and Wotan grew light of heart. For now, he thought, he could defy the dwarf's curse and all the powers of the underworld. So he trained his soldiers constantly, and had them continually in battle, one against another. And if one by chance received a wound it healed of itself through magic power.

Still the loss of the Gold and of the Ring was an ever-present danger. Wotan knew this, and cast about for some means to restore the treasure to the Rhine-Daughters so that the peril might be removed.

Now Fafner the giant had taken the Gold to a cave in the midst of a dense forest. By the aid of the magic helmet he had changed himself into a fierce dragon, and in this shape he guarded the mouth of the cave night and day. So you see that he wasn't getting very much pleasure out of his hoard.

Being a god, Wotan of course knew where Fafner the dragon lay hid. But neither he nor any of the gods could attack Fafner or lay hands upon the treasure. It had been given the giant in open barter and so was beyond their recall. But Wotan reasoned that if some earth-born hero could be found brave enough to slay the dragon, the Gold could be secured. Failing this, the dwarf Alberich might in the end be crafty enough to regain it and wreak his vengeance upon the gods.

The peril was still great therefore, in spite of the warriors in Walhalla. Wotan realised all this and resolved to journey again through the world in quest of a hero to attack the dragon. For many days he searched without success. Then he chose a son of his own for the great task, living with him as a simple forester while the boy grew up, and training him to warlike deeds. The boy's name was Siegmund, and as he reached young manhood he was straight as a young pine-tree in the forest and strong as the oak which defies the winds of heaven.

While Siegmund was still a youth a great sorrow befell him. Sieglinde a young girl of his own age with whom he had grown up, and whom he looked upon as a sister, was seized by a fierce hunter and carried away to his home in the forest. For many months Siegmund sought to rescue her, but without success. He grew to manhood with this object before him, and vowed eternal warfare against the hunter and all his clan,—a vow Wotan aided him to keep, until the very name of Siegmund became a terror to the hunter.

Then another sudden grief befell the young warrior. Wotan mysteriously went away one day, leaving no trace and no message save that when Siegmund should be in direst need he would find a trusty sword at hand to aid him. Siegmund now felt forsaken indeed; and he roamed about aimlessly in the forests, hunting the wild beasts, helping people in distress, or fighting against the hunter's tribe.

One night, utterly spent from his wanderings, he sought shelter in a house built in a peculiar manner round the trunk of a great oak-tree. Seeing no one within the main room he entered, closed the door behind him, and lay down exhausted in front of the fire, where he soon fell fast asleep.

Presently a maiden came into the room. She expected to find the hunter there, for this was none other than his house, although Siegmund did not know it. When instead of the master of the house the maiden saw the stranger lying upon the hearth, she sprang back in sudden fear. But the poor man did not move, so she came gently to his side, to see whether he were alive or dead. Siegmund stirred uneasily in his sleep, then, wakening, tried to utter a few words, but his parched lips gave forth little sound. Seeing his pitiable state, the maiden hastened to give him a drink. It revived him somewhat, and he sat up and gazed around. The maiden gave him more of the cup and gently asked him whence he came. He answered and began telling her of his wanderings without revealing his name. Just then the hunter himself arrived; but neither he nor Siegmund recognised the other as his sworn enemy; and the hunter noting the young man's distressed condition bade him welcome for the night and invited him to the table to share his food. Siegmund accepted the invitation joyfully, and soon found his strength returning to him in the meat and drink.

In answer to his host's questions, he told the story of his past adventures; and the hunter found, for the first time, that his guest was the foe whom he had long been seeking to slay.

"Ha! I know you now!" he exclaimed, springing to his feet. "It is you who have done so much harm to me and mine! I would make you answer for your deeds here and now, were it not for the sacred laws of hospitality. But to-morrow I shall meet you! At sunrise be ready to fight and give me full satisfaction!"

Siegmund was astonished in his turn, but could not refuse the challenge. The hunter left him with these words, bidding the maiden also go into another room.

Left to himself the young man fell again into heaviness of spirit. It seemed to him that sorrow and trouble had followed him all the days of his life. He mused over his present defenceless condition—alone, unarmed and under his enemy's very roof. Then he recalled his father's promise, that a sword would be ready at his hand when his need was direst. Somehow the thought of this promise brought comfort to him, and he fell into a quiet slumber.

After a time, during the stillness of night, a door opened softly and the maiden came toward him.

"Up!" she said, gently rousing him. "Up and flee for your life! The hunter has been planning mischief against you, but I gave him a sleeping draught."

"Why should I flee?" said Siegmund. "Give me but a sword and I turn my back upon no man! But who are you, fair lady, who do this kindness to a stranger? Methinks I have seen your face in earlier days than this."

"And I also seem to remember you," she answered, gazing at him earnestly. "My story is not a long one, but it is sad. When I was a little girl, this cruel hunter carried me away from home, and he has compelled me to live with him ever since. But one day during a feast a strange-looking man with only one eye came in, bearing a mighty sword. He drove the sword to the hilt in the trunk of yonder tree, with one sweep of his arm, declaring that it was for only one man—the man who should be able to pull it forth again. Many stout men that day and since have tried to claim the sword, but there it sticks, there you may see the firelight strike the handle. Perchance, poor stranger, it was left for you!"

"Ah, now I know my father's words were true!" Siegmund cried, joyously. "See! the sword is mine!"

And laying hold of the handle he drew the shining blade as easily as though the tree had been its scabbard.

"And thou, also, I know, my heart's best! Thou art Sieglinde, for whom I have sought all these years. Dost thou not remember thine old playmate Siegmund?"

She gazed at him first with startled look; then a tender light of memory and love dawned in her eyes. Siegmund stretched out his arms to her and the two were reunited in a fond embrace.

"The Two were reunited in a fond Embrace"
H. Hendrich
By permission of the "Illustrirte Zeitung" (J. J. Weber, Leipzig)

"Come!" said Siegmund; "now will I flee, and thou must go with me. My father's sword shall shield us both, and never again while I live shall this robber have thee in his clutches."

The moon was shining brightly on this warm night in early spring. The wide world seemed to beckon her two children forth; and answering her summons and the glad call of their own hearts they fled away.

King Wotan knew of all these things. He knew that his dearly loved son Siegmund had found the magic sword, and had fled from the hunter's home. He foresaw also that the hunter would rise up full of wrath the next day, and pursue Siegmund to kill him. This must be prevented. The god summoned Brunhilde before him.

"Wisest and fairest of War Maidens," he said, "in yonder mountain gorge thou wilt discover a young man and a maiden who are dear to me. The maiden has been stolen away from a hunter who held her against her will, and the hunter now pursues the young man with intent to slay him. It is my will that he be not slain, but that he gain the victory over the hunter. See thou to it!"

Brunhilde gladly listened to Wotan's behest.

"It shall be done as thou desirest!" she exclaimed. "Hoyo-to-ho!"—the musical shout of the War Maidens came from her lips as she sprang from cliff to cliff and disappeared.

But she had hardly gone before Fricka, Wotan's queen, entered in a chariot drawn by two rams. Now Fricka was goddess of love and justice, and it grieved her that Siegmund should be allowed to take Sieglinde away with him as he had done.

"Justice, O Wotan!" she cried, "against the young man Siegmund! The hunter from whose house he fled away, carrying the maiden Sieglinde, has called to me for help, and I have promised to aid him."

"The hunter held the maid against her will," replied Wotan.

"Nathless his right to her had become recognised among men. So she must be restored to him, else men will say that there is no justice in the world."

Wotan's brow was wrinkled moodily. He knew that Sieglinde had dwelt so many years under the hunter's roof that all men believed she rightfully belonged there. Yet in his heart he longed to protect his son.

Fricka saw the struggle but would not relent. She added many words to what she had said and urged her case so strongly that every law the gods had made seemed enlisted in the hunter's cause. At last Wotan, heavy in spirit, agreed to give the victory to him.

After Fricka had departed, he called Brunhilde again to him and told her of his last decision. Brunhilde was full of grief when she learned that she must aid the hunter against Siegmund.

"Why dost thou do this, O father?" she asked gently.

"Because the laws of the gods demand it," he answered.

Then the sorrow-stricken Wotan unburdened his heart to her and told her of the Rhine-Gold; of the Ring that had been fashioned from it; of the curse that had followed; and of many other things which we have set forth in this book.

"The curse of the Ring is the fate of Siegmund," he concluded. "That is why I am powerless to protect him. See that thou dost obey my latest command!"

So saying he departed, amid the rumblings of a thunder-cloud, leaving Brunhilde full of sorrow at the strange tale she had heard and the sad errand she must perform.

But she turned her steps dutifully down the mountain gorge, and there in a sheltering cave she found the young man and maiden. Sieglinde had become tired out from their wanderings, and Siegmund had borne her into the cave and was supporting her head upon his knee, while smoothing back the stray locks of gold from her lovely forehead. So intent was he upon this devotion that he did not see Brunhilde when she came into the entrance.

"Siegmund was supporting her Head upon his Knee"
J. Wagrez
Photo, Braun, Clément & Co.

If the War Maiden had longed to befriend these two before she saw them, how much more did her heart soften when she beheld this sweet picture! But her duty must be done. She called softly to Siegmund and he raised his head.

"I am the War Maiden," she said, "and am sent to warn thee of thy fate. Thine enemy follows hard upon thy heels; and none who look upon my face survive a battle."

"I fear not for the battle," answered Siegmund stoutly. "This magic sword was left me by my father, and with it I must surely be victorious!"

"It will avail thee not; for the gods have decreed that thou must die. But glory awaits thee in Walhalla, whither I am summoned to bear thee after death."

"What is Walhalla?" he asked.

"It is the Hall of Heroes, among whom thou wilt be first."

"Will I find my father there, and my sweet comrade Sieglinde?"

The search for these two had consumed the youthful warrior's whole life, so his voice trembled eagerly as he asked this question.

Brunhilde smiled, then shook her head sadly.

"Thy father?—Yes, in Walhalla shalt thou find him. But Sieglinde cannot come to thee there."

"Then take my greetings to Walhalla!" he exclaimed.