  Produced by Al Haines. [image] Wotan's Farewell to Brunhilde K. Dielitz By permission of the Berlin Photographic Co., New Bond St., W STORIES BY J. WALKER McSPADDEN AUTHOR OF "He cometh unto you with a tale which holdeth children from play, and old men from the chimney-corner." SIR PHILIP SIDNEY LONDON Letterpress: The Riverside Press Ltd., Edinburgh Illustrations: The Ballantyne Press, London CONTENTS THE RING OF THE CURSE— LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS Introduction 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 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":
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. [image] 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
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
"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
"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:
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:
|
|