Skip to main content

Full text of "The stories of Wagner's operas"

See other formats 


THE   STORIES  OF 
WAGNER'S  OPERAS 


Brunhilde  knelt  at  his  feet 


THE    STORIES    OF 
WAGNER'S  OPERAS 


0TV  BY 

^WALKER  McSPADDEN 

"  OPERA*  STOOPSES  "  ETC. 


AUTHOR  OF 


WITH   SIXTEEN    ILLUSTRATIONS    BY 

FEED.  LECKE  &  HERMANN  HENDRICH 


FAf;  :3!G 

/0,0/7 

UNIYERJ  h  OF  TORONTO 

/    -   cf-    6-1 

LONDON 
GEORGE   G.    HARRAP  ^   COMPANY 

26-3   PORTSMOUTH   STREET   KINGSWAY  W.C. 

1915 


too 


2034 


THE    RIVERSIDE   PRESS   LIMITED,   EDINBURGH 
GREAT     BRITAIN 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

INTRODUCTION ix 

THE  RING  OF  THE  CURSE 1 

PART      I.     THE   RHINE-GOLD 1 

PART     II.     THE   WAR  MAIDENS 26 

PART  III.     SIEGFRIED   THE   FEARLESS      ....  46 

PART    IV.     THE  DOWNFALL  OF  THE  GODS   ...  70 

PARSIFAL  THE  PURE 95 

LOHENGRIN,  THE  SWAN  KNIGHT 121 

TANNHAUSER,  THE  KNIGHT  OF  SONG  • 147 

THE  MASTER  SINGERS .      .172 

RlENZI,  THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES 204 

THE   FLYING  DUTCHMAN 229 

TRISTAN  AND  ISOLDE 256 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

Drawings  by  H.  Hendrich  and  F.  Lecke 

Brunhilde  knelt  at  his  feet Frontispiece 

OPP.  PAGE 

The  Giants  bore  Freia  away 12 

The  two  were  re-united  in  a  fond  embrace 34 

Instantly  a  stream  of  fire  gushed  forth 44 

Then  in  the  silence  a  bird  sang  to  him .60 

The  three  maidens  swam  close  to  the  shore  ....      88 

The  death  of  Siegfried 90 

The  funeral  of  Siegfried 92 

Thus  it  was  that  Parsifal  began  his  pilgrimage  .      .      .112 

He  was  compelled  to  yield .      .128 

He  saw  a  beautiful  woman 150 

Wolfram  looked  after  her 166 

Walter  began  his  song 202 

At  the  head  of  a  large  body  of  men  rode  Rienzi  .      .      .212 

Daland  looked  at  the  stranger  keenly 240 

The  two  stood  silent  looking  at  each  other 270 


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  be- 
fore 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  treas- 
ured not  only  for  their  deep  interest  but  also  be- 
cause 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  bet- 
ter part  of  the  last  century.  He  was  born  at  Leip- 
zig, May  22,  1813;  he  died  at  Venice,  February  13, 
1883.  His  whole  life  was  a  struggle,  for  his  musi- 
cal ideas  were  unlike  any  that  had  gone  before. 
But  he  lived  to  witness  a  splendid  triumph;  and 
j  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 

Tannhauser,  1845 

Lohengrin,  1850 

Tristan  and  Isolde,  1865 

The  Master  Singers,  1868 

The  Ring  of  the  Nibelung,  1876 

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- 


INTRODUCTION  xi 

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  Wag- 
ner obtained  the  first  idea  for  his  opera. 

With  "Tannhauser,"  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  Tjgck  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  Tannhauser  himself  has  been  sel- 
dom written  about,  Walter  von  der  Vogelweide — 
the  minnesinger,  and  friend  of  Tannhauser  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  fa- 
mous old  poem  entitled  "Parziyal."  Here  Wag-_ 
ner  discovered  the  germ  of  his  beautiful  story  of 
"Lohengrin,"  following  the  lines  of  an  old  and 
well-nigh  forgotten  legend.  The  opera  of  "Parsi- 


xii  INTRODUCTION 

fal,"  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  re- 
mind 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  Ger- 
many, where  it  was  a  frequent  theme  with  minne- 
singers, or  wandering  minstrels,  like  Walter  von 
der  Vogelweide.  One  of  the  earliest  German  au- 
thors to  write  down  a  version  of  it  was  a  certain 
Godfried  of  Strasburg;  and  Wagner  had  at  his 
command  this  and  numerous  other  versions.  Eng- 
lish poets,  also,  have  been  greatly  attracted  by  the 
tale.  Sir  Walter  Scott,  in  "Thomas  the  Rhymer," 
told  the  simplest  version.  Matthew  Arnold,  Ten- 
nyson, 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 


INTRODUCTION  xiii 

_^M_VH^_^___^_«_^«M— ———•-—•— H*—*^———^— ^^—^——••——^^•^^MM^^^^M^^.M*. 

droll  use  of  them.  The  Master  Singers  have 
left  substantial  proof  that  they  really  lived.  There 
are  poems  still  in  existence,  signed  by  Sixtus  Beck- 
messer,  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 
"Sangerkrieg."  He  made  use  of  the  same  idea  in 
"Tannhauser." 

Although  "The  Ring  of  the  Nibelung,"  Wag- 
ner's grand  lifework,  was  not  presented  until  1876,  I/ 
he  had  been  at  work  upon  its  four  parts  for  more 
than  twenty-five  years  previously..  He  had  pub- 
lished 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 


xiv  INTRODUCTION 

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  Ger- 
man 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  "Nibel- 
ungenlied,"  and  it  is  the  most  famous  of  all  early 
German  poems. 

Of  course  Wagner  had  access  to  all  this  ma- 
terial. 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.  Vol- 
umes have  been  written  pointing  out  the  differ- 
ences between  his  Nibelung  story  and  the  earlier 
legends. 

But  the  purpose  of  this  book  is  not  to  criti- 
cise, dissect,  or  compare.  After  giving  these  few 
needful  names  and  dates,  we  wish  merely  to  fol- 
low 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 


INTRODUCTION  xv 

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  sometime  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  Nibelungeri) 
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  un- 
tamed giants  roamed  amid  the  valleys.  Swarthy, 
misshapen  dwarfs,  called  Nibelungs,1  toiled  in  the 
caves  of  the  under-world  heaping  up  treasures  of 
gold  and  silver  which  never  did  any  one  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. 

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. 

i  Pronounced  Nee'bel-oongs. 
B  1 


STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 


In  the  clear  depths  of  the  river  Rhine,  in  Ger- 
many, 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  sor- 
row; 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  frol- 
icsome 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  wonder- 
ful 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  price- 
less treasure. 


THE  RING  OF  THE  CURSE  3 

One  bright  morning  the  maidens  seemed  unusu- 
ally 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  glanc- 
ing from  time  to  time  up  at  the  precious  Rhine- 
Gold,  to  see  if  it  still  glittered  upon  its  protecting 
crag. 

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  treas- 
ure 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,  croak- 
ing 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,  sing- 
ing as  she  went: 


4  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

"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  un- 
usual 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,  re- 
fusing 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,  re- 
flecting 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  con- 
cealed his  amazement  and  waited  to  learn  some- 
thing about  this  splendid  treasure  without  betray- 
ing his  own  interest.  Fortune  favoured  him.  His 


THE  RING  OF  THE  CURSE  5 

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  in- 
difference. 

"What!  Haven't  you  ever  heard  of  the  wonder- 
ful 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  some 


STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 


one  lay  hands  upon  it  and  do  all  these  great 
things?" 

"Sister,  sister!  be  carefull"  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  some  one  seize  the  Gold?"  she  re- 
peated. "  '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." 


THE  RING  OF  THE  CURSE 


"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  Al- 
berich  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 


8  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

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  some  one  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  an- 
other way  out  of  the  bargain." 

Now  Loki,  god  of  fire,  was  the  craftiest  of  all  the 


THE  RING  OF  THE  CURSE  9 

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  cas- 
tle 'gainst  another  sunrise.  It  shall  be  Walhalla 
— the  supreme  home  of  gods  and  men." 

The  giants  bowed  and  went  their  way.  Pres- 
ently 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  splen- 
did 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  pay- 
ment 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." 


10  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

"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,  stretch- 
ing 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  im- 
patiently from  side  to  side.  He  was  looking  for 
his  crafty  counsellor,  Loki,  and  wondering  why  he 


THE  RING  OF  THE  CURSE  11 

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  any  one  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  de- 
stroy it!" 

"Yes,  yes,"  replied  Wotan,  impatiently,  begin- 
ning 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  sur- 
prise. 


12  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

"A  substitute  for  kerf"  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 


The  giants  bore  Freia  away 


THE  RING  OF  THE  CURSE  13 

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  god- 
dess." 

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  fol- 
low 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  pre- 
vent. 


14  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

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  al- 
ready 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. 

"Lookl"  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,  Lokil"  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. 


THE  RING  OF  THE  CURSE  15 

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  any 
one  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. 
x  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." 


16  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

"Yes,  you  have  1  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  ob- 
tained 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,  car- 


THE  RING  OF  THE  CURSE  17 

rying  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  ha,ve  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  Albe- 
rich?" 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  lat- 
ter, bending  forward  admiringly.  "Is  it  really 
made  from  the  far-famed  Rhine-Gold?" 

"It  is,"  said  Alberich,  swelling  up.  "I  made  it 
c 


18  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

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  some  one  stole  the  Ring  while  you 
slept?"  persisted  Loki. 

"They  couldn't,"  retorted  the  dwarf  quickly. 
"See  this  helmet?  That  silly  brother  of  mine  yon- 
der 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 
sliest  of  robbers." 

"Oh,  that  cannot  be!"  replied  Loki.  "Only  the 
gods  can  do  such  things.  Unless  I  saw  such  a  mar- 
vel 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  ser- 
pent 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. 


THE  RING  OF  THE  CURSE  19 

"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!" 


20  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

"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. 

"Holdl"    commanded    Wotan;    "bear    her    no 
farther.    We  have  brought  the  gold  to  ransom 
her." 
}     "Is  it  the  far-famed  Rhine-Gold  ?"  asked  Faf ner. 

"See  for  yourselves!"  said  Loki,  casting  the  glit- 
tering heap  upon  the  earth.  "In  all  the  world  ye 
wiU  not  find  its  like." 

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


THE  RING  OF  THE  CURSE  21 

"  '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  Wotan,  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  re- 
lease ;  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  be- 
tween 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  re- 
lease 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  Wo- 
tan saw  it  was  useless  to  refuse.  He  made  a  sign 
of  command  to  the  unwilling  Loki,  and  the  lat- 
ter cast  the  helmet  on  the  heap. 


22  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

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  val- 
leys, 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. 


THE  RING  OF  THE  CURSE  23 

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  en- 
tails!" 

"Who  art  thou,  boding  spirit?"  demanded  Wo- 
tan. And  in  a  chanting  voice  came  back  the  re- 


"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. 


24  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

"Here  is  the  Ring,"  said  he  sternly,  drawing  it 
from  his  finger  and  placing  it  upon  the  heap.  "Be- 
gone, 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  de- 
parted, while  the  gods  stood  around  silent  and 
amazed  that  the  curse  should  descend  so  swiftly. 
And  Wotan  foresaw  in  this  tragic  moment  the  aw- 
ful 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  por- 
tals. 


THE  RING  OF  THE  CURSE  25 

"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  god- 
desses, 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  arch- 
ing bridge  he  heard  voices  from  the  valley  far  be- 
neath 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   WAB-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  rain- 
bow-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  green- 
swards, and  groves  of  stately  trees.  And  in  the 
midst  of  the  largest  grove  of  all  grew  the  wonder- 
ful 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. 

26 


THE  RING  OF  THE  CURSE  27 

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. 


28  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

"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,  swell- 
ing into  a  splendid  strain  of  triumph.  Then  flying 
figures  were  descried,  and  the  watchers  at  the  win- 
dow saw  Wotan  returning  to  them  as  it  were 
through  the  clouds.  He  was  in  the  midst  of  a  com- 
pany 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 


THE  RING  OF  THE  CURSE  29 

sprightliness  of  youth  that  he  led  the  nine  fair  war- 
riors 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  bat- 
tle, 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  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  be- 
came 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  under- 
world. 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. 


30  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

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  re- 
moved. 

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  Faf- 
ner 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 


THE  RING  OF  THE  CURSE  31 

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  sor- 
row 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  aim- 
lessly in  the  forests,  hunting  the  wild  beasts,  help- 
ing 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 


32  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

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  has- 
tened to  give  him  a  drink.  It  revived  him  some- 
what, 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. 


THE  RING  OF  THE  CURSE  33 

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  condi- 
tion— 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 
D 


34  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

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  an- 
swered, 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  yon- 
der 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,  where  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  shin- 
ing blade  as  easily  as  though  the  tree  had  been  its 
scabbard. 


THE  RING  OF  THE  CURSE  35 

"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  play- 
mate 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. 

"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  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  sum- 
moned 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. 


36  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

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  desirestl"  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,"  re- 
plied 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 


THE  RING  OF  THE  CURSE  37 

belonged  there.  Yet  in  his  heart  he  longed  to  pro- 
tect 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  an- 
swered. 

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 
thundercloud,  leaving  Brunhilde  full  of  sorrow  at 
the  strange  tale  she  had  heard  and  the  sad  errand 
she  must  perform. 


38  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

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  Sieg- 
mund  had  borne  her  into  the  cave  and  was  support- 
ing 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. 

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  Wal- 
halla,  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." 


THE  RING  OF  THE  CURSE  39 

"Will  I  find  my  father  there,  and  my  sweet  com- 
rade Sieglinde?" 

The  search  for  these  two  had  consumed  the  youth- 
ful 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  ex- 
claimed. 

"Greet  for  me  Wotan ! 
Hail  to  my  father 
And  all  the  heroes ! 
Hail  the  War  Maidens; 
For  now  I  follow  not  thee!" 

By  this  time  Brunhilde's  heart  had  become  so 
touched  that  she  boldly  resolved  to  disobey  Wotan's 
last  command,  and  do  as  he  really  desired.  Smil- 
ing upon  Siegmund,  she  bade  him  be  of  good  heart, 
as  she  had  only  been  testing  his  courage.  Then  she 
told  him  she  would  be  with  him  and  aid  him  in  the 
coming  strife. 

Even  while  she  spoke  the  hunter's  horn  was  heard, 
and  soon  the  man  himself  came  hastening  fiercely 
along.  He  did  not  see  Siegmund  at  first,  for  a 
heavy  storm  had  come  up,  while  the  heavens  seemed 
rent  with  terrific  crashes  of  thunder.  The  din 
finally  aroused  the  sleeping  Sieglinde,  and  she 


40  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

gazed  around  wildly.  Siegmund  had  sprung  out 
of  the  cave  to  confront  his  enemy;  and  there  in 
front  of  the  cave  he  stood  revealed  by  a  flash  of 
lightning  battling  strongly  with  the  hunter.  Sieg- 
linde  uttered  a  cry  of  grief  and  was  about  to  rush 
'between  them  when  another  sudden  blaze  of  light 
made  her  draw  back.  At  one  side  she  beheld  the 
War  Maiden  standing  ready  to  protect  Siegmund. 
The  young  man  pressed  upon  the  hunter  and  was 
about  to  strike  him  to  the  earth  with  his  trusty 
sword,  when  a  glowing  red  flame  burst  through  the 
clouds.  Wotan  himself  appeared  with  his  dread 
Spear  and  stretched  it  across  the  sword.  The 
magic  blade  broke  in  sunder,  and  Siegmund  fell 
dead,  pierced  by  the  hunter's  weapon.  But  the 
hunter  himself  did  not  survive  the  conflict,  for  a 
glance  from  the  single  blazing  eye  of  the  angry  god 
stretched  him  lifeless  on  the  sward. 

When  Wotan  appeared,  Brunhilde  started  back 
amazed  and  fearful.  She  began  to  realise  what  it 
meant  to  disobey  the  god's  command.  Hastily 
seizing  the  fainting  form  of  Sieglinde  she  sprang 
upon  her  winged  steed  and  fled  swiftly  from  the 
tragic  scene.  Far  and  fast  through  the  storm  she 
sped,  glancing  around  fearfully  ever  and  anon,  and 
fancying  each  rumble  of  the  thunder  was  Wotan's 
voice.  Then  she  turned  her  horse's  head  toward 
the  summit  of  a  lofty  crag.  It  was  the  usual  meet- 


THE  RING  OF  THE  CURSE  41 

ing-place  of  all  the  War  Maidens  on  their  way  to 
Walhalla.  Soon  the  crag  came  in  sight,  and  there 
awaiting  her  were  her  eight  companions,  hailing 
her  swift  approach  with  "Hoyo-to-ho !"  their  battle 
cry. 

Hardly  taking  time  to  answer  their  joyous  greet- 
ings, Brunhilde  placed  Sieglinde  gently  on  the 
ground  and  cried, 

"Save  us,  O  my  sister!  Save  us  from  the  wrath 
of  Wotan!" 

"Why,  what  crime  hast  thou  committed?"  cried 
the  other  War  Maidens  in  alarm. 

"I  have  disobeyed  the  god's  command,  and  even 
now  he  rides  hard  after  me  upon  the  wings  of  the 
tempest!  Save  this  innocent  mortal,  at  least! 
She  has  done  no  wrong." 

"I  do  not  wish  for  life!"  exclaimed  Sieglinde, 
who  had  just  recovered  consciousness.  "Why 
should  I  live  when  Siegmund  is  dead?  I  pray  you 
draw  your  sword  and  slay  me!" 

"Not  so,"  said  Brunhilde  soothingly.  "The 
Fates  decree  that  thou  must  live.  And  see,  I  have 
saved  for  thee  the  Sword  of  Need  which  was  broken 
in  Siegmund's  hands.  Keep  it  for  his  son,  the 
hero  who  shall  know  no  fear,  and  he  shall  do  mighty 
deeds  with  its  mended  blade." 

So  saying  Brunhilde  drew  from  the  folds  of  her 
cloak  the  two  pieces  of  the  broken  sword  and  gave 


42  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

them  to  Sieglinde  and  whispered  in  her  ear  words 
of  tenderness  and  balm.  And  Sieglinde's  face  lost 
its  hopeless  look,  and  she  promised  to  go  wherever 
the  War  Maiden  might  direct. 

"Haste  thee,  then!"  urged  Brunhilde.  "The 
time  is  short.  In  only  one  place  wilt  thou  be  safe 
from  Wotan,  and  that  is  the  depth  of  yonder  forest. 
There  dwells  Fafner  the  dragon,  and  there  Wotan 
never  ventures  because  of  the  curse  of  the  Ring. 

The  tempest  had  increased  in  fury  while  Brun- 
hilde was  speaking.  The  dense  darkness  shielded 
Sieglinde  while  she  hurried  away.  She  was  scarce 
gone,  hugging  the  precious  sword,  when  a  terrific 
clap  of  thunder  shook  the  whole  cliff  and  Wotan 
appeared  in  a  flash  of  light. 

"Brunhilde !    Brunhilde !"  he  called. 

Brunhilde  did  not  answer;  and  the  other  War 
Maidens,  braving  his  anger  through  loyalty  and 
love  for  their  sister,  hid  her  in  their  midst. 

"Brunhilde!"  again  thundered  Wotan,  "stand 
forth!  Art  afraid  to  hear  thy  doom?" 

"Not  so,  O  mighty  father!"  replied  Brunhilde; 
and  she  stepped  forward  proudly  and  knelt  at  his 
feet. 

"Ah,  Brunhilde!  how  couldst  thou  disobey  my 
command?"  asked  Wotan  more  in  sadness  than  in 
anger.  "Thou  hast  brought  thy  fate  upon  thy- 
self." 


THE  RING  OF  THE  CURSE  43 

"I  but  tried  to  save  one  who  was  dear  to  thee," 
she  answered. 

"But  thou  didst  violate  my  will,  and  henceforth 
can  be  a  War  Maiden  no  more.  Thou  must  de- 
scend to  earth,  lose  thy  immortality,  and  live  the 
life  of  any  other  woman." 

On  hearing  this  terrible  decree,  by  which  she  lost 
the  rank  of  goddess,  Brunhilde  sank  upon  the 
ground  with  a  piteous  cry. 

"Have  mercy,  O  Wotan!"  she  pleaded.  "I  tried 
to  meet  the  wishes  of  thy  heart,  as  given  in  thy 
first  command.  Do  not  banish  me  for  ever  from 
my  dear  sisters  and  thy  beloved  presence.  Have 
mercy!" 

"Have  mercy!"  cried  her  sisters,  stretching  out 
their  hands  toward  the  god. 

"Silence!"  said  Wotan  solemnly.  "I  have 
spoken,  and  it  must  be  done.  Ah,  dearly  loved 
maiden,  how  gladly  would  I  save  thee  if  it  were 
so  decreed!  But  thou  must  sink  to  the  ground  in 
deep  sleep.  And  it  shall  come  to  pass  that  in  after 
years  the  man  who  shall  awaken  thee  shall  claim 
thee  for  his  bride." 

"As  for  ye  other  maidens,"  He  continued,  glanc- 
ing around  with  a  flash  of  the  eye,  "beware  how  ye 
fail  to  keep  faith  with  me  again!  And  come  not 
again  into  my  presence  this  day." 

The  War  Maidens  fled  in  woe  and  terror  at  this 


44  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

speech,  leaving  Brunhilde  and  Wotan  alone  upon 
the  rock.  The  sky  was  clearing,  the  wind  was  dy- 
ing away,  and  the  moon  came  forth  and  looked 
down  upon  the  scene.  There  was  silence  for  many 
long  moments,  until  Brunhilde,  unable  to  endure  it, 
rose  slowly  to  her  feet  in  all  her  beauty  and  pride, 
yet  with  wild  entreaty  in  her  voice. 

"Oh,  father,  father!"  she  pleaded,  "save  me  from 
this  fate,  for  the  honour  of  all  gods !  Do  not  place 
me  within  reach  of  any  coward  among  men,  who 
might  chance  to  awaken  me.  If  I  must  fall  asleep 
to  wake  a  mortal  woman,  grant  me  this  last  request. 
Place  me  in  some  spot  so  hedged  about  with  danger 
that  none  but  the  bravest  of  all  men  may  find  me 
and  claim  me  for  his  own!" 

Wotan  gazed  at  her — all  the  old  love  and  pride 
for  her  shining  in  his  eyes.  He  gently  drew  her  to 
him  and  kissed  her  upon  the  eyelids. 

"It  shall  be  as  thou  dost  wish,"  he  said.  "I  shall 
shield  thee  with  a  barrier  of  living  fire  so  that  none 
save  a  true  hero  can  rescue  thee.  And  now  fare- 
well, my  darling  child!  How  I  shall  miss  thee  in 
Walhalla,  and  on  our  rides  of  glory,  thou  dost  little 
know.  Farewell!  farewell!" 

Brunhilde  clasped  her  arms  about  his  neck  and 
smiled  for  the  last  time  in  his  face.  He  bent  down 
and  kissed  her  again,  and  yet  again.  A  deep  sleep 
came  over  her  and  she  sank  slowly  down.  Wotan 
carried  her  tenderly  to  a  low  mound  of  moss  upon 


THE  RING  OF  THE  CURSE 


45 


the  very  crest  of  the  towering  rock,  and  there  he 
placed  his  shield  over  her  to  protect  her  from  all 
harm.  Again  he  gazed  long  and  mournfully  on 
her  features,  then  closed  the  visor  of  the  helmet  she 
wore,  and  turning  began  a  mystic  waving  of  his 
Spear  of  Authority.  He  ended  by  summoning 
Loki,  god  of  fire. 

"Loki,  hark, 
Hitherward  haste, 

As  I  found  thee  first,  7 

In  a  fiery  waste; 
As  once  thou  didst  fly 
In  fiery  display; 
As  then  I  did  call  thee 
I  call  thee  to-day! 
Arise  with  thy  flaming — 
Encircle  this  place, 
To  daunt  the  craven 
Whom  my  spear  could  not  face! 
Loki!     Loki!  arise!" 

At  the  last  call  he  struck  the  rock  thrice  with  his 
Spear,  and  instantly  a  stream  of  fire  gushed  forth 
and  licked  upward  in  tongues  of  flame  from  every 
side.  Higher  and  wider  they  spread,  leaping  and 
crackling  till  they  formed  a  complete  circle  round 
the  mossy  bed  where  Brunhilde  lay  sleeping.  And 
as  they  swept  upward  in  the  night  air  they  seemed 
to  blend  in  strains  of  music  sweet  as  the  thrumming 
of  a  harp  and  soft  as  the  lullaby  of  a  mother  croon- 
ing her  child  to  sleep. 


PART  III 

SIEGFRIED   THE  FEARLESS 

SEVERAL  yiears  passed  by  while  Brunhilde 
lay  in  her  enchanted  sleep.  Summers  and 
winters  came  and  went,  yet  still  she  lay  there 
unharmed  in  her  magic  circle  of  fire,  and  growing 
no  whit  older  than  when  she  first  sank  down  in 
slumber,  in  all  her  youth  and  beauty. 

Down  in  the  depths  of  the  forest  far  below  the 
crag  on  which  she  rested,  Fafner  the  dragon  still 
guarded  the  Rhine-Gold  and  Ring.  He  had  come 
to  be  known  only  as  the  dragon,  because — giant 
though  he  was — he  had  always  been  afraid  to  leave 
this  hideous  shape  lest  some  one  should  overcome 
him  and  seize  the  treasure. 

And  he  had  good  cause  to  fear.  Although  the 
Gold  bore  a  curse  with  it,  there  was  more  than  one 
who  sought  to  lay  hand  upon  it.  Wotan  the  mighty 
had  even  forsaken  the  beautiful  palace  of  Walhalla 
which  cost  him  so  much,  and  was  now  roaming  over 
the  earth  seeking  some  hero  to  slay  the  dragon. 
He  had  indeed  come  to  be  known  as  the  "Wan- 
derer" because  of  his  constant  search.  The  dwarfs 


THE  RING  OF  THE  CURSE  47 

also  had  by  no  means  forgotten  the  glittering  hoard 
which  had  been  taken  away  from  them.  Alberich 
went  about  in  sullen  discontent,  biding  his  time; 
while  Mime,  his  brother  who  had  made  the  magic 
helmet,  could  not  forget  the  Gold  night  or  day. 
Mime  knew  where  the  dragon  lay  hid,  so  he  set 
about  laying  plans  to  outwit  or  slay  him. 

Now  the  dwarfs  had  always  lived  deep  down  in 
the  caves  of  the  earth.  They  had  seemed  actually 
afraid  of  the  sunlight,  and  it  may  be  that  they  were 
afraid  of  their  own  shadows,  for  no  greater  cow- 
ards ever  lived.  But  with  all  their  cowardice  they 
were  sly,  and  had  a  wonderful  faculty  of  finding 
out  all  sorts  of  secrets.  Mime  had  discovered  the 
whole  story  of  the  Gold,  the  helmet,  the  Ring,  the 
curse,  the  building  of  Walhalla,  and  the  dread  which 
had  fallen  upon  the  gods.  He  learned  of  all  this 
and  many  other  things ;  and  he  laughed  and  rubbed 
his  hands  craftily. 

"Ahal"  he  said,  "I  will  find  a  way  to  seize  the 
Ring  and  rule  the  whole  world !  I  will  watch  this 
dragon  day  and  night,  and  sooner  or  later  I  shall 
surprise  him." 

So  Mime  the  dwarf  summoned  up  courage 
enough  to  appear  above  ground.  He  betook  him- 
self to  Fafner's  forest,  where  he  soon  found  the 
huge  monster  crouched  before  the  door  of  his  cave. 
For  many  days  and  nights  Mime  lay  hid,  waiting 


48  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

for  a  chance  to  slip  past  the  great  beast,  but  no  such 
chance  came. 

"I  shall  have  to  kill  him,"  said  Mime  to  himself. 
And  at  the  bare  thought  his  teeth  chattered  with 
fear.  "But  even  if  I  had  a  sword  stout  enough 
and  long  enough  to  reach  his  heart,  I  should  never 
have  courage  enough  to  wield  it." 

This  thought  was  very,  discouraging  to  him,  yet 
he  was  unwilling  to  give  up  hope  of  the  Gold.  For 
many  more  days  he  pondered  and  plotted,  till  at 
last  he  thought  of  a  plan. 

"I  have  it  1"  he  exclaimed,  slapping  his  thigh.  "I 
shall  build  a  blacksmith's  forge  hard  by  here  in  the 
wood,  where  I  shall  make  nothing  but  swords.  At 
last  my  skill  will  bring  forth  the  best  blade  in  the 
world,  and  I  shall  offer  it  to  the  mightiest  hero  who 
may  come  riding  by.  Who  knows?  Perhaps  one 
will  be  found  brave  enough  to  fight  the  dragon, 
when  I  tell  him  just  how  to  do  it.  Then  after  he 
kills  the  dragon — we  will  see!" 

He  chuckled  at  the  cunning  plan  he  had  made, 
while  the  evil  light  in  his  eyes  boded  no  good  for  the 
after  fate  of  the  chosen  hero.  . 

This  plan  seemed  wild,  yet  it  was  the  best  that 
offered,  so  Mime  began  at  once.  He  built  his 
smithy,  a*nd  having  been  used  to  this  trade  all  his 
life  in  the  under-world,  he  speedily  felt  quite  at 
home.  Soon  his  forge-fires  shone  brightly  through 


THE  RING  OF  THE  CURSE  49 

the  forest,  and  the  sound  of  his  hammering  dis- 
turbed the  birds  and  beasts. 

One  day  during  a  lull  in  his  work  he  heard  a  faint 
tap  at  his  door.  He  asked  harshly  who  was  there, 
but  receiving  no  reply  he  peered  cautiously  outside. 
There  on  the  threshold  lay  a  poor  woman  feebly 
holding  a  little  child  in  her  arms.  Her  strength 
seemed  spent,  and  even  the  rough  Mime  felt  pity 
for  her  distress.  He  carried  her  into  the  smithy 
and  laid  her  near  the  forge-fire,  then  hastened  to 
pour  some  cordial  down  her  throat.  The  drink  re- 
vived her  slightly  and  she  sat  up  and  tried  to  lift 
the  child. 

"Take  care  of  him,"  she  gasped.  "His  name  is 
Siegfried.  He  comes  from  a  race  of  heroes." 

"How  am  I  to  know  that  he  is  of  hero  born?" 
asked  the  dwarf  bluntly. 

"Here,  here!"  she  answered  eagerly,  drawing 
some  fragments  of  a  sword  from  the  folds  of  her 
dress.  "It  was  his  father's  sword — the  wonderful 
Sword  of  Need.  Keep  it  safe  for  him  and  he  shall 
do — mighty — deeds — ' ' 

Her  voice  trailed  into  silence,  and  the  dwarf 
bending  down  perceived  that  she  was  dead. 

It  was  poor  Sieglinde  who  had  hid  away  from  the 
wrath  of  Wotan,  as  Brunhilde  had  bidden  her.  "At 
last  her  sad  life  was  ended,  and  perchance  her  spirit 
found  peace  with  that  of  Siegmund  in  some  happier 

clime. 
E 


50  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

Mime  now  turned  his  attention  to  the  little  child 
for  the  first  time.  He  saw  that  its  limbs  were 
sturdily  knit,  and  that  already  it  held  its  head  erect 
and  looked  one  squarely  in  the  eye — which  was 
more  than  the  dwarf  had  ever  done  in  his  whole  life. 

"Who  knows?"  muttered  Mime.  "This  may  be 
the  hero  for  whom  I  have  been  waiting.  I  will 
bring  him  up  as  my  son,  and  train  him  to  my  set 
purpose.  At  any  rate  he  could  soon  be  useful  blow- 
ing the  fire." 

So  he  adopted  the  little  Siegfried  and  cared  for 
him,  during  his  helpless  days,  in  a  dwarf's  rude 
way.  He  hollowed  out  a  log  for  the  baby's  cradle, 
and  spread  a  bearskin  over  it.  He  gave  him  goat's 
milk  to  drink,  and  let  him  play  with  the  broken 
handles  of  swords.  Every  fair  morning  he  car- 
ried him  out  into  the  bright  sunshine  and  left  him 
to  kick  his  heels  and  shout  back  answers  to  the  sing- 
ing birds.  But  the  dwarf  himself  rarely  ventured 
outdoors.  He  seemed  to  prefer  the  soot  and 
smoke  of  his  forge-fire.  He  hammered  away,  and 
hummed  a  moody  tune,  and  took  comfort  in  think- 
ing of  the  day  when  this  foster-child  should  be  sent 
to  slay  the  dragon. 

But  if  Mime  had  expected  the  lad  to  mend  the 
fires  and  work  in  the  shop,  he  soon  found  himself 
mistaken.  The  little  fellow  thrived  wonderfully 
and  took  to  the  life  of  the  forest  naturally.  On  the 


THE  RING  OF  THE  CURSE  51 

other  hand,  he  had  no  use  for  the  forge  or,  it  must 
be  confessed,  for  his  foster-father.  He  soon  came 
to  despise  the  dwarf  as  a  coward,  for  he  himself 
showed  no  fear  of  anything.  So  he  roamed  every 
day  in  the  forest  returning  only  at  nightfall  with 
some  animal  he  had  slain.  Once  he  harnessed  a 
wild  bear  with  ropes  and  drove  it  into  the  black- 
smith's shop,  nearly  causing  Mime  to  fly  out  of  his 
wits  from  terror. 

When  Siegfried  arrived  at  young  manhood  he 
was  a  goodly  sight  to  look  upon.  His  limbs  were 
strong  and  powerful,  yet  rounded  and  graceful. 
His  skin  was  tinged  with  the  ruddy  hue  of  outdoor 
life.  His  fair  hair  fell  in  soft  curls  to  his  shoul- 
ders, as  the  manner  then  was ;  and  his  blue  eyes  met 
one's  look  frankly  and  fearlessly. 

Though  he  had  been  taught  to  look  upon  Mime 
as  his  father,  Siegfried  soon  rejected  this  belief 
with  scorn.  He  felt  no  love  for  the  dwarf,  such  as 
a  son  would  feel ;  and  he  could  not  help  contrasting 
his  own  powerful  frame  and  courage  with  the 
smith's  weak,  cringing  way.  The  only  tie  which 
now  bound  them  together  was  a  promise  made  by 
the  dwarf  that  he  would  forge  a  sword  with  which 
Siegfried  could  win  every  battle.  The  young  man 
waited  impatiently  for  this  sword  to  be  made;  and 
Mime  actually  worked  early  and  late  to  finish  it. 
But  alas!  no  sooner  would  he  temper  a  blade  so 


52  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

that  it  seemed  perfect,  when  Siegfried  would  return 
from  the  chase  and  say, 

"Ho !  this  is  the  sword  you  have  made  for  me  to- 
day!" 

And  he  would  shiver  it  to  bits  upon  the  anvil. 

This  went  on  day  after  day,  until  Siegfried  lost 
all  patience  and  began  to  threaten  the  dwarf. 

"Hark  you,  Mime!"  he  cried.  "Give  me  the 
stout  blade  you  promised,  or  it  will  not  go  well 
with  you  to-morrow  nigfrL" 

"You  would  not  harm  your  father!"  whined  the 
dwarf.  "Remember  how  I  have  cared  for  you  and 
sheltered  you." 

"I  have  long  since  paid  that  score  in  meat  and 
skins,"  answered  Siegfried.  "And  as  for  you  be- 
ing my  father,  you  know  that  is  false.  Answer  me 
directly!  I  would  know  who  my  father  was!" 

His  manner  was  so  threatening  that  the  dwarf 
was  thoroughly  frightened. 

"I — I — do  not  know  who  your  father  was,"  he 
stammered;  "your  mother  was  Sieglinde,  a  poor 
woman  whom  I  sheltered  here  when  you  were  a 
baby.  She  gave  me  an  eld  broken  sword.  See, 
here  it  is!" 

And  he  rummaged  beneath  a  pile  of  skins  and 
brought  to  light  the  pieces  of  the  magic  Sword  of 
Need. 

"Ha!  that  is  good  metal!"  cried  Siegfried,  as  he 


THE  RING  OF  THE  CURSE  53 

examined  it.  "I  will  have  no  sword  but  this.  See 
to  it  that  'tis  mended  for  me  'gainst  another  night." 

The  smith  promised,  though  in  a  quaking  voice, 
for  he  was  by  no  means  certain  that  he  could  mend 
the  weapon.  His  fears  were  well  founded.  When 
he  tried  to  do  so,  the  next  day,  the  pieces  refused  to 
unite  in  his  hands.  After  making  repeated  at- 
tempts he  sank  down  behind  the  anvil  in  despair. 

At  this  moment  a  strange-looking  man  entered 
the  doorway.  He  was  tall  and  powerful.  He 
wore  a  long  dark  cloak,  and  carried  a  spear  instead 
of  a  staff.  On  his  liead  was  a  large  hat  whose 
broad  brim  shaded  one  eye  that  was  evidently  in- 
jured or  missing. 

"The  Wanderer!"  muttered  the  dwarf  in  abject 
fear. 

It  was  indeed  Wotan  the  Wanderer. 

"What  are  you  doing  here?"  he  demanded  in  a 
voice  of  thunder,  pointing  to  the  broken  blade. 

"I — I  am  trying  to  mend  the — the  Sword  of 
Need,"  said  the  dwarf.  He  knew  there  was  no  use 
in  telling  an  untruth,  as  Wotan  had  already  recog- 
nised the  weapon. 

"Where  did  you  get  it?"  Wotan  asked. 

"  'Twas  given  me  by  Sieglinde  the  mother  of 
Siegfried.  Mercy,  mercy!  I  cannot  mend  it!" 

"Peace,  fool!  You  speak  truth.  No  one  but 
the  hero  who  knows  no  fear  can  weld  those  pieces 
together !" 


54  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

So  saying  he  struck  his  spear  upon  the  floor  with 
a  noise  like  thunder  and  turning  strode  away  into 
the  forest. 

Mime  dared  not  look  after  him  or  ask  any  ques- 
tions. Indeed,  he  was  in  such  utter  terror  that  he 
did  not  venture  from  behind  the  anvil,  where  he 
lay  hid  all  day.  And  here  it  was  that  Siegfried 
found  him  when  he  returned  home. 

"Mime,  have  you  got  my  sword  done  yet?"  he 
called. 

"Pardon!  pardon!"  whined  the  dwarf.  "Oh,  I 
have  had  such  an  awful  scare!" 

"A  scare?    What  is  that?"  asked  Siegfried. 

"I  mean,  I  have  been  in  dreadful  fear,"  answered 
Mime. 

"Fear?    What  is  that?"  asked  Siegfried. 

"Know  you  not  what  fear  is?"  said  Mime,  start- 
ing up  and  remembering  Wotan's  words  that  only 
the  hero  who  knew  no  fear  could  mend  the  sword. 

The  young  man  shook  his  head. 

Mime  pressed  the  subject  further.  "Suppose 
you  should  meet  a  great  monster  in  the  forest,"  he 
said;  "a  huge  dragon  whose  eyes  and  mouth  shot 
fire,  whose  tail  lashed  this  way  and  that,  tearing 
down  the  trees,  whose  tongue  was  sharp  as  a  sword, 
and  whose  terrible  fangs  could  crush  you  like  an 
insect.  Suppose  this  terrible  dragon  should  come 
rushing  down  to  devour  you.  How  would  you 
feel?" 


THE  RING  OF  THE  CURSE  55 

"There  is  no  such  beast  as  that,"  replied  Sieg- 
fried, smiling. 

"Oh,  but  there  is!"  urged  the  dwarf,  his  own  eyes 
growing  big  with  alarm  as  he  thought  of  Fafner. 
"There  is !  Down  in  the  depths  of  this  very  forest 
lurks  a  dragon  ten  times  more  dreadful  than  I  have 
said.  He  lies  crouched  in  a  thicket  before  a  cave, 
and  even  the  gods  are  afraid  to  come  near  him." 

"Then  he  would  be  worth  fighting!"  exclaimed 
Siegfried  with  flashing  eyes.  "Forge  me  this 
sword  as  you  promised,  and  then  show  me  the  way 
to  his  lair !" 

"I  cannot  mend  the  blade,"  confessed  Mime  sul- 
lenly. "Only  he  who  has  no  fear  in  his  heart  can 
mend  it  or  wield  it." 

Siegfried  glanced  at  him  a  moment  in  anger; 
then  as  if  despairing  of  getting  the  dwarf  to  do  the 
work,  he  seized  the  fragments  with  one  hand  and 
the  bellows  with  the  other. 

"Stand  aside!"  he  commanded.  "I  will  mend 
the  blade." 

And  he  set  to  work  while  the  dwarf  looked  on 
in  wonder. 

First  Siegfried  took  a  file  and  began  rubbing  the 
steel  into  fine  powder. 

"Stop!"  screamed  the  dwarf.  "You  are  ruining 
it." 

"Oh,  no,  I  am  not,"  laughed  Siegfried,  filing  the 
faster. 


56  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

Soon  the  sword,  all  but  the  handle,  was  changed 
into  powder.  Then  Siegfried  placed  the  powder 
over  the  fire  and  blew  a  bright  blaze  underneath  it. 
And  as  he  worked  the  bellows  he  sang  from  pure 
joy  in  his  work, 

"Hoho!  hoho! 
Hahei!  hahei! 
Bellows  blow 
The  blaze  on  high! 
Deep  in  the  wood 
There  lived  a  tree. 
Its  ashes  here 
In  the  flames  I  see. 

Hoho!  hoho! 
Hahei!  hahei! 
Bellows  blow: 
The  tree  must  die! 
But  the  flashing  fire 
Hath  won  its  way; 
It  sputters  and  flares 
In  the  metal's  spray. 

Hoho!  hoho! 

Hahei!  hahei! 

Bellows  blow 

The  flame  on  high! 

The  Sword  of  Need 

Will  soon  be  made 

And  then  aloft 

I  shall  flash  my  blade !" 


THE  RING  OF  THE  CURSE  57 

When  he  finished  the  song  the  powder  had  be- 
come a  molten  mass.  He  ran  this  into  a  mould 
and  plunged  it  into  the  water.  The  loud  hiss  of 
cooling  metal  was  heard.  Presently  he  seized  the 
new  blade  with  a  pair  of  pincers  and  heated  it  red 
hot.  Allowing  it  to  remain  but  a  moment  in  the 
coals,  he  placed  it  upon  the  anvil  and  beat  it  mighty 
blows  till  the  blade  was  sharp  and  thin.  Then  heat- 
ing it  once  again  he  fastened  it  to  the  handle. 

He  swung  the  weapon  critically  and  tested  its 
temper.  Again  he  heated  it,  and  beat  it  till  the 
shop  was  filled  with  flying  sparks.  But  now  it 
emerged  bright  and  keen — the  most  perfect  blade 
in  all  the  world.  Triumphantly  he  sang, 

"Ah,  Sword  of  Need! 
Anew  thou  art  wrought; 
Back  unto  life  and  strength 
Thou  art  brought!" 

"See,  Mime!  This  is  the  sword  I  wished  you  to 
forge!" 

And  making  the  sword  whistle  about  his  head  he 
brought  it  down  squarely  upon  the  anvil.  From 
top  to  bottom  the  heavy  anvil  was  cleaved,  falling 
into  two  pieces  with  a  thundering  noise. 

"Farewell!"  cried  Siegfried;  "the  smithy  sees  me 
no  more  from  this  day.  I  go  to  seek  the  dragon!" 
And  he  hurried  forth  with  his  wonderful  new  sword 
into  the  forest. 


58  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

"Wait  a  moment!"  called  Mime,  running  after 
him;  "you  cannot  find  the  cave  unless  I  show  you 
the  way." 

"I  thought  you  were  too  great  a  coward  for  that," 
laughed  Siegfried. 

"Who's  afraid?"  panted  the  dwarf  as  he  caught 
up  with  him.  "Besides  I  am  only  going  to  point 
out  the  place.  You  are  the  one  that's  going  to  be 
eaten!" 

In  fact  Mime  was  quite  anxious  to  have  the 
young  man  meet  the  dragon.  No  matter  how  the 
fight  turned  out,  he  reasoned  that  he  himself  would 
be  the  gainer.  In  the  event  of  Siegfried  killing 
the  beast  and  escaping  unharmed,  Mime  intended 
to  give  him  a  poisonous  draught  which  he  had  pre- 
pared. Then  with  both  these  foes  out  of  the  way, 
the  dwarf  believed  that  the  wonderful  Gold  of  the 
curse  would  be  his  without  any  further  struggle. 

But  in  this  Mime  was  wrong,  for  his  brother  Al- 
berich,  who  had  first  stolen  the  Gold  from  the 
Rhine-maidens,  was  even  then  watching  the  drag- 
on's cave  and  had  been  on  guard  there  night  and 
day.  Wotan  the  Wanderer  found  him  there  upon 
this  day  of  fate,  and  unheeding  the  dwarf's  taunts 
and  reproaches  told  him  of  Siegfried's  and  Mime's 
approach.  Alberich  now  hid  behind  some  rocks  to 
watch  what  should  happen. 

"See,  that  is  the  cave,"  said  Mime,  pointing  it 


THE  RING  OF  THE  CURSE  59 

out  to  Siegfried  when  they  were  still  some  distance 
away.  "I  can  go  no  farther,  as  I  am  very  tired 
from  running  to  catch  up  with  you.  But  go 
straight  ahead,  and  I  wish  you  success — and  the 
dragon  an  equal  amount!"  The  last  words  he  mut- 
tered to  himself,  then  scurried  for  a  safe  place 
where  he  could  watch  the  fight. 

It  was  a  beautiful  morning,  and  the  birds  were 
carolling  sweetly  in  the  tree-tops.  Siegfried  cast 
himself  down  upon  the  sward  to  rest  himself  and 
enjoy  the  quiet  sylvan  scene  a  little  while.  The 
birds  seemed  to  be  talking  to  him.  He  could  not 
understand  their  sweet  language,  but  he  tried  to 
imitate  it  upon  a  reed  whistle.  Failing  in  his  at- 
tempt he  seized  the  horn  which  was  slung  around 
his  shoulders  and  blew  a  loud  clear  note  as  a  chal- 
lenge to  the  dragon.  At  once  a  tremendous  crash- 
ing sound  was  heard  in  a  near-by  thicket. 

"Ah!  that  must  be  the  dragon!"  said  Siegfried, 
craning  his  neck  without  getting  up. 

Again  he  heard  the  roar,  followed  by  a  terrible 
snorting  and  hissing  and  yawning,  and  out  came 
a  huge  lizard-like  serpent  plunging  through  the  un- 
derbrush toward  him. 

"Who  are  you?"  it  growled. 

"Oh,  you  can  talk,  can  you?"  said  Siegfried.  "I 
am  a  man  who  has  been  sent  to  you  to  learn  what 
fear  is." 


60  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

"You  will  find  out  if  you  live  long  enough!" 
roared  the  dragon,  showing  its  fangs  and  licking 
out  a  long  forked  tongue.  "I  will  devour  you  in 
two  mouthfuls." 

"Oh,  no!"  laughed  Siegfried.  "I  object.  But 
if  you  do  not  teach  me  what  fear  is,  it  will  be  the 
worse  for  you!" 

This  taunt  angered  the  dragon,  as  Siegfried  in- 
tended. It  sprang  forward,  lashed  about  with  its 
tail  and  poured  forth  flame  and  smoke  from  its 
nostrils.  Siegfried  leaped  easily  to  one  side  and 
evaded  both  dangers.  The  dragon  turned  upon 
him  at  close  range  and  struck  again  with  its  tail. 
Siegfried  vaulted  high  in  the  air,  so  that  the  tail 
swept  the  ground  smoothly  under  him  without 
touching.  Quick  as  a  flash  he  smote  the  scaly  back 
with  his  keen  sword,  so  that  the  black  blood  poured 
forth  in  torrents.  The  dragon  uttered  loud  bellows 
of  rage  and  pain,  and  reared  upon  Siegfried  with 
the  forepart  of  its  body  in  order  to  crush  him;  but 
as  it  reared,  its  breast  was  exposed,  and  Siegfried 
was  swift  to  seize  his  advantage.  With  a  powerful 
blow  he  drove  the  Sword  of  Need  up  to  the  hilt  in 
the  monster's  heart. 

"Woe  is  me!"  gasped  the  dragon,  rolling  upon 
the  earth  in  a  dying  condition.  "Reckless  youth,  do 
you  know  what  you  have  done?" 

"I  know  I  have  slain  a  foul  beast  because  he 
would  not  teach  me  fear." 


Then  in  the  silence  a  bird  sang  to  him 


THE  RING  OF  THE  CURSE  61 

"Ah,  I  perceive  you  are  the  tool  of  others,"  said 
the  dragon  in  a  weak  voice.  "Know  then  that  I  am 
Fafner,  the  last  of  the  giants'  race.  I  guarded  the 
Rhine-Gold;  but  beware  of  it!  a  curse  follows  all 
who  possess  it!  Beware!" 

Then  with  a  dreadful  groan  the  dragon  expired. 

Siegfried  drew  his  sword  from  its  breast,  and  as 
he  did  so  a  drop  of  blood  fell  upon  his  hand.  It 
burned  like  a  coal  of  fire,  and  instinctively  he  licked 
it  with  his  tongue  to  stop  the  pain.  Suddenly  a 
strange  new  power  came  upon  him.  Hewnew  not 
what  it  was,  but  stood  silent  and  amazed  waiting 
to  discover  what  it  could  be.  Then  in  the  silence  a 
bird  sang  to  him  from  a  linden-tree — the  same  song 
he  had  heard  before;  but  this  time  he  could  under- 
stand it !  It  was  as  though  the  bird  were  speaking 
his  own  tongue ! 

"The  Rhine-Gold  is  now  yours,"  it  sang.  "There 
in  the  cave  you  will  find  it.  Be  careful  to  take 
also  the  helmet  of  darkness  and  the  Ring  of 
Power." 

Siegfried  thanked  the  friendly  bird,  and  hastened 
into  the  cave.  While  he  was  gone,  Mime  and  Al- 
berich  crept  up  and  for  the  first  time  became  aware 
of  each  other's  presence.  A  violent  quarrel  at  once 
began  as  to  which  should  claim  the  treasure,  but  it 
was  speedily  silenced  by  the  return  of  Siegfried 
clad  in  shining  armour  and  bearing  the  helmet  and 


62  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

Ring.  The  two  dwarfs  slunk  away  again  unper- 
ceived  by  the  young  man,  who  walked  thoughtfully 
along  listening  to  the  wood-bird,  which  had  recom- 
menced its  song.  And  these  were  the  words  of  the 
song: 

"Ha!     Siegfried  now  holds 
Both  the  helmet  and  the  Ring; 
Beware  of  sly  Mime — 
Trust  him  not  in  anything!" 

Siegfried  again  thanked  the  bird  for  its  warning, 
which  was  indeed  timely;  for  Mime  now  approached 
him  with  great  pretended  delight  in  his  safety. 

"Have  you  learned  what  fear  is?"  he  asked  with 
a  grin. 

"No,  I  have  not,"  answered  Siegfried. 

"Then  sit  you  down  and  rest,  bravest  of  men!" 
said  the  dwarf.  "And  see,  here  is  a  cooling  cup  of 
mead  I  have  brought  for  you.  It  will  quiet  you 
and  cause  you  to  forget  your  weariness." 

"It  is  poison,"  retorted  the  young  man.  "Thanks 
to  the  dragon's  blood,  I  can  read  all  your  wicked 
heart!  Wretch,  take  your  just  deserts!" 

With  that  he  dashed  the  poison  cup  to  the  ground, 
and  stretched  the  dwarf,  with  one  blow,  dead  at  his 
feet. 

"It  was  his  life  or  mine  at  the  last,"  he  said,  as 
he  wended  his  way  thoughtfully  into  the  forest. 
In  spite  of  his  victory  over  the  dragon,  he  was  not 


THE  RING  OF  THE  CURSE  63 

elated.  Instead,  he  was  thinking  how  barren  his 
life  had  been  without  friends  or  kindred,  and  how 
aimless  it  seemed  even  now,  despite  the  Gold. 
Sighing  heavily  he  sat  down  upon  a  log  and  buried 
his  face  in  his  hands. 

"Lonely,  lonely!  Of  all  men  I  am  most  lonely  1" 
he  cried. 

"Would  you  find  a  love  to  comfort  you?"  sang 
the  clear  voice  of  the  bird  over  his  head.  "I  know 
where  you  might  find  the  fairest  lady  in  all  the 
world. 

"On  a  lofty  crag  she  sleeps, 
Her  guard  is  a  flaming  fire; 
And  he  must  bravely  pierce  the  blaze 
Who  would  win  his  heart's  desire." 

Siegfried  sprang  to  his  feet.  "This  quest  is  to 
my  liking!  Tell  me  more  about  it!"  he  exclaimed. 

"The  bride  to  win, 
Brunhilde  to  wake, 
Is  no  coward's  task, 
Or  whom  fear  doth  shake." 

Thus  sang  the  wood-bird  again,  and  Siegfried  lis- 
tened to  him  joyfully. 

"Show  me  the  way  to  the  lofty  crag,  I  pray  you, 
good  bird !"  he  exclaimed.  "Show  me  the  way,  that 
I  may  greet  the  lady  or  look  into  the  face  of  fear!" 

By  way  of  answer  the  little  bird  fluttered  away 


64  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

toward  the  heights  leading  up  the  mountain-side. 
Siegfried  eagerly  followed,  over  stones,  through 
thickets,  beneath  huge  trees,  across  dangerous 
chasms,  but  always  being  careful  not  to  lose  sight 
of  the  bird. 

At  last  they  came  to  a  wild  rocky  gorge,  extend- 
ing to  the  last  line  of  cliffs,  and  there  the  bird  sud- 
denly disappeared.  But  Siegfried  saw  a  narrow 
chasm  like  a  giant's  pathway  leading  upward  to  the 
crest,  and  this,  he  decided,  was  the  route  he  must 
follow.  After  a  last  look  to  see  where  the  bird  had 
gone,  he  prepared  to  ascend  the  path,  when  he  came 
face  to  face  with  Wotan. 

Siegfried  had  never  seen  the  god  before,  and  now 
was  in  nowise  dismayed,  although  the  strange- 
looking  figure  in  long  cloak  and  broad  hat  was 
larger  and  more  commanding  than  any  he  had  ever 
met  before  this  day.  In  Wotan's  hand  was  the 
Spear  of  Authority,  with  which  he  ruled  the  world. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  asked  the  god. 

"I  know  not,"  replied  Siegfried.  "A  little  bird 
told  me  of  a  rock  surrounded  by  fire,  and  a  lovely 
maiden  who  sleeps  there.  But  now  the  bird  is  gone, 
and  I  must  find  my  way  alone." 

"Do  you  not  fear  the  fire?" 

"Fear?  That  also  have  I  come  to  seek.  Know 
you  the  way?" 

"It  lies  up  through  yonder  rift,"  replied  Wotan, 


THE  RING  OF  THE  CURSE  65 

wishing  to  test  the  young  man's  bravery  yet  further; 
"but  the  journey  is  one  of  terror.  Upon  the  moun- 
tain-top the  flames  leap  fiercely.  Sheets  of  fire 
driven  before  the  wind  rage  on  every  side." 

"The  fiery  foe  I  challenge!"  answered  Siegfried. 
"I  must  rescue  Bnmhilde  at  any  cost."  And  he 
strode  toward  the  rocky  chasm. 

"Back,  rash  youth!"  commanded  Wotan,  stretch- 
ing out  his  Spear.  "You  shall  not  pass  while  this 
all-powerful  weapon  prevents!" 

"It  shall  not  avail  against  this  magic  blade!"  re- 
plied Siegfried,  drawing  the  Sword  of  Need. 

Wotan  started  at  sight  of  the  fateful  blade. 

"Where  got  you  the  weapon?"  he  asked. 

"At  Mime's  forge  I  made  it — the  best  metal  in 
the  world!" 

"But  it  shall  not  avail  against  the  Spear,  for  by 
it  was  the  Sword  first  broken,"  answered  Wotan. 

"Ah!"  cried  Siegfried,  rushing  forward.  "Then 
you  were  my  father's  foe!  On  guard,  before  my 
Sword  brings  vengeance  upon  you!" 

He  swung  the  Sword  with  terrific  force  through 
the  air.  It  met  the  Spear  with  a  crash  like  thun- 
der, and  the  once  powerful  Spear  was  broken.  The 
owner  of  the  Ring  was  indeed  master  of  the  world ! 

"Go  forward!"  said  Wotan  sadly.  "No  longer 
can  I  hold  you.  The  doom  of  the  gods  was  fore- 
told before  you  came  into  the  world.  You  are  but 

the  instrument  of  fate." 
F 


66  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

And  he  disappeared. 

Siegfried  glanced  at  the  spot  where  he  had  stood, 
in  astonishment.  Then  seeing  no  further  bar  to 
his  progress,  he  ran  lightly  up  the  rough  pathway. 
Presently  he  heard  a  dull  roaring  sound  and  saw, 
on  the  mountain  height,  a  huge  mass  of  flames 
which  leaped  in  every  direction  and  seemed  to  touch 
the  very  sky.  Red  and  wrathful  they  shone,  shut- 
ting off  the  pathway  by  what  appeared  to  be  a 
solid  body  of  fire,  while  clouds  of  smoke  hid  the 
view  on  every  side. 

But  Siegfried  pressed  forward  undaunted.  Put- 
ting his  hunting-horn  to  his  lips  he  sounded  a  merry 
note  as  if  in  challenge.  And  as  he  went  on,  a  won- 
derful thing  happened.  The  fire  parted  slightly 
to  right  and  left,  letting  him  pass  by  unharmed. 
On  he  went  until  he  came  to  the  inner  circle  which 
the  flame  had  guarded ;  and  now  it  vanished  utterly, 
leaving  the  blue  sky  and  the  free  air  of  heaven. 

On  the  moss-covered  rock  Siegfried  saw  some 
one  lying  asleep,  beneath  a  heavy  shield.  He  lif  ted 
this  and  beheld  what  appeared  to  be  a  youth  clad 
in  bright  armour.  The  helmet  hid  the  face,  but 
when  he  carefully  removed  the  heavy  head-dress  a 
mass  of  beautiful  golden  hair  was  loosened.  The 
features  were  those  of  the  lovely  Brunhilde. 

"Ah!  it  is  not  a  man!"  exclaimed  Siegfried,  gaz- 
ing at  the  face  in  rapture.  "It  is  the  maid  I  have 


THE  RING  OF  THE  CURSE  67 

come  to   seek!    How  still  she  is!    How  can  I 
waken  her  from  this  slumber?" 

He  tried  gently  to  rouse  her  by  calling,  but  there 
was  no  response.  Only  her  deep  breathing  told 
him  that  she  was  alive. 

'Tis  the  fairest  vision  I  could  ever  have  dreamed 
of  seeing!"  he  murmured;  "the  one  maid  I  could 
worship  and  serve !  Now  I  cannot  waken  her,  and 
all  my  past  hardships  have  been  in  vain." 

He  knelt  down  and  gazed  long  and  rapturously 
into  her  face.  Then  unable  to  restrain  his  emo- 
tions any  longer  he  bent  and  pressed  his  lips  full 
and  fervently  upon  hers. 

Instantly  the  maid  awoke.  While  Siegfried 
started  back  in  rapture  she  sat  up  as  easily  as 
though  yesterday  had  witnessed  the  beginning  of 
her  long  sleep.  She  gazed  about  her  in  delight, 
and  burst  forth  into  a  little  cry  of  gladness: 

"Hail  to  thee,  Sun, 
Hail  to  thee,  Light, 
Hail,  thou  luminous  Day! 
Deep  was  my  sleep, 
Long  was  the  night!" 

Then  looking  about  she  asked,  "Who  is  the  hero 
that  has  come  to  waken  me?" 

"I  am  Siegfried,"  he  replied  modestly. 

"Siegfried,  son  of  Sieglinde?"  she  cried.  "Then 
I  knew  your  mother  in  those  past  years  before  I  fell 
asleep!" 


68  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

"Oh,  tell  me  of  her  and  of  my  father!"  he  ex- 
claimed, his  eyes  shining.  "But,  I  am  not  thought- 
ful," he  added  in  another  tone.  "You  are  in  need 
of  refreshment  after  your  long  slumber." 

"I  am  a  daughter  of  the  gods,"  she  answered, 
"and  feel  no  faintness  or  weariness  as  mortals  do." 

Siegfried,  who  had  come  near  to  her,  drew  back 
as  though  struck  by  a  blow. 

"A  daughter  of  the  gods!"  he  exclaimed.  "I — 
I  hoped  to  claim  you  for  my  bride  1" 

In  his  ingenuous  youth,  his  inner  thoughts  rose 
naturally  to  his  lips. 

Brunhilde  smiled  sadly  and  shook  her  head. 

"See  yonder  horse,  which  also  has  been  asleep?" 
she  asked.  "It  is  Grani,  my  winged  steed,  upon 
which  I  used  to  ride  through  the  clouds  with  my 
sisters.  Would  you  bid  me  stay  upon  earth?" 

"Ah,  Brunhilde,  my  love  is  selfish,  I  know!  But 
if  your  heart  could  feel  half  the  fire  that  burns  in 
mine,  you  would  gladly  stay  upon  earth  like  other 
women!" 

"Like  other  women!"  the  words  brought  back  the 
decree  of  Wotan  in  a  flash,  and  Brunhilde  sat  as 
though  stunned.  Then  she  looked  proudly  at  the 
fearless  hero  with  his  frank  face  and  deep  blue  eyes ; 
and  as  she  looked  the  love-light  shining  in  his  face 
was  lit  upon  her  own. 

Siegfried  knelt  and  pressed  his  lips  to  her  hands, 


THE  RING  OF  THE  CURSE  69 

with  bowed  head.  He  dared  not  look  again  for 
very  joy,  and  afraid  lest  the  light  he  had  seen  should 
be  vanished. 

"Brunhilde!  Brunhilde!"  he  whispered.  "Can  it 
be  true?" 

For  answer  Brunhilde  clasped  her  arms  around 
his  neck  and  looked  up  laughingly  into  the  sky. 
And  again  she  sang — this  time  a  note  of  glad  re- 
nunciation. The  proud  War  Maiden,  the  daugh- 
ter of  the  gods,  had  found  a  joy  in  the  mortal  life 
of  a  loving  woman,  such  as  she  had  never  dreamed. 

"Away,  Walhalla' 
Glorious  world! 
Farewell  thou  gorgeous 
Realm  of  the  gods ! 
End  in  delight 

0  lofty  race! 
Night  of  destruction 
Thy  terrors  are  gone; 

1  stand  in  the  glow 
Of  Siegfried's  star!" 

Then  Siegfried  in  his  turn  sang  of  love  and  Brun- 
hilde. And  the  two  sweet  voices  blended  together 
at  the  last  in  a  triumphant  strain, 

"My  own  for  ever, 
And  parting  never, 
For  aye  and  ever. 
Shining  in  Love! 
And  smiling  at  Death !" 


PART  IV 

THE  DOWNFALL  OF  THE  GODS 

WHEN  Brunhilde  promised  to  become  Sieg- 
fried's wife  she  well  knew  what  it  would 
cost  her.  She  would  no  longer  be  of  the 
family  of  the  gods,  nor  would  she  have  strength  and 
wisdom  beyond  other  mortal  women.  Yet  she  now 
had  no  regrets.  Her  love  for  her  hero  eclipsed 
every  other  thing,  and  she  knew  only  that  she  was 
entirely  happy  in  the  present. 

Long  the  lovers  sat  and  talked,  forgetful  of  all 
the  outside  world.  Siegfried  told  Brunhilde  of  his 
adventures;  his  fight  with  the  dragon;  his  posses- 
sion of  the  Ring;  and  finally  his  encounter  with  the 
mysterious  stranger  whose  spear  he  had  shattered. 

Brunhilde  started  up  at  this.  She  had  recog- 
nised Wotan  at  once  from  the  description. 

"The  spear  was  broken,  you  say?"  she  exclaimed 
questioningly.  "Are  you  sure  it  was  broken?" 

"It  fell  shivered  upon  the  ground  beneath  my 
sword." 

"What  did  the  stranger  do?" 

"He  looked  sadly  at  me,  saying  that  he  was  pow- 

70 


THE  RING  OF  THE  CURSE  71 

erless  to  hinder  me  further.  Then  he  vanished  sud- 
denly." 

"Ah,  woe  to  the  gods!"  cried  the  maiden. 
"Their  doom  is  indeed  coming  upon  them!  Sieg- 
fried, the  spear  you  broke  was  the  dread  Spear  of 
Authority  with  which  great  Wotan  ruled  the  world. 
Now,  all  the  old  order  of  things  shall  pass  away. 
Walhalla  itself  must  fall,  because  of  the  curse  of 
the  Ring." 

"The  curse  of  the  Ring?"  asked  Siegfried  in  an 
astonished  voice.  "What  is  that?" 

"It  is  the  sad  fate  which  has  followed  upon  the 
heels  of  a  bad  deed,"  she  answered.  "King  Wotan 
himself  told  me  the  tale  upon  that  day  so  long  ago 
when  I  disobeyed  him."  She  shuddered  slightly  at 
the  memory,  then  went  on:  "It  is  bound  up  in 
your  own  fate,  so  I  will  tell  you  also  the  story." 

Then  Siegfried  listened  with  wide-open  eyes 
while  Brunhilde  told  him  of  the  lost  Rhine-Gold; 
the  building  of  Walhalla ;  the  reward  of  the  giants ; 
and  the  curse  of  the  Ring.  His  breath  was  bated 
and  his  eyes  were  very  moist  when  she  told  further 
of  Siegmund  and  Sieglinde  and  the  wrath  of  Wo- 
tan. 

"Then  you  were  the  protector  of  my  father  and 
mother!"  he  said,  embracing  her  joyfully.  "Ah, 
how  much  love  and  devotion  do  I  owe  you,  fairest 
and  dearest  of  goddess-maidens!" 


72  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

"Will  you  never  forget  me?"  she  asked. 

By  way  of  reply  he  drew  the  magic  Ring  from 
his  finger  and  placed  it  upon  hers. 

"Let  this  be  our  troth,"  he  said.  "From  this 
moment  it  becomes  a  blessing  instead  of  a  curse, 
and  our  lives  shall  be  one  life  for  evermore." 

"It  shall  tell  me  always  of  you,"  answered  Brun- 
hilde.  "For  I  know  you  cannot  linger  here,  dearly 
as  I  should  desire  it.  You  come  of  a  race  of  heroes, 
and  great  deeds  await  you  upon  earth.  Your 
sword  must  not  grow  rusty  in  idleness,  nor  your 
strength  weak  through  ease." 

"'Tis  true,"  he  said,  with  a  sad  but  resolute  look 
in  his  blue  eyes,  as  he  glanced  far  over  the  nestling 
valleys.  "'Tis  true  that  my  lifework  is  yet  to  be 
begun.  But,  alas!  Brunhilde,  how  can  I  leave 
you?  You  are  the  only  person  I  have  ever  known 
that  gave  me  sympathy  or  love." 

Brunhilde  pressed  his  hands  tenderly. 

"My  sympathy  and  love  shall  always  be  for 
you!"  she  whispered;  "and  here  shall  I  wait  your 
return  to  me.  Loki  will  build  his  barrier  of  fire 
about  me  once  more,  and  only  you,  the  hero  who 
knows  no  fear,  can  find  your  way  back  again. 

"And  now  take  with  you  Grani,  my  good  horse. 
He  can  no  longer  fly  through  the  clouds  as  for- 
merly, when  his  mistress  was  one  of  the  immortals. 
But  he  will  go  through  fire  and  water  for  you,  and 
will  be  your  devoted  slave." 


THE  RING  OF  THE  CURSE  73 

The  maiden  called  the  beautiful  horse,  which  had 
been  aroused  out  of  sleep  at  the  same  time  she  was 
awakened,  and  which  was  now  grazing  near  by. 
Grani  came  to  them  whinnying  gently.  Siegfried 
patted  the  steed's  soft  nose,  then  took  the  bridle 
slowly,  as  if  unwilling  to  speak.  He  girded  on  his 
sword,  placed  his  helmet  firmly  upon  his  head,  and 
slung  his  bugle  around  his  shoulders. 

"Farewell,  beloved!"  said  Brunhilde  softly. 

"Farewell,  beloved!"  he  answered.  "My  hunt- 
ing-horn shall  tell  you  from  the  valley  all  that  I 
cannot  say." 

One  lingering  embrace,  and  he  turned  and  led 
his  steed  down  the  steep  path.  Brunhilde  watched 
his  descent  with  shining  eyes.  Presently  from  the 
valley  below  she  heard  the  mellow  notes  of  the  horn 
sweet  and  clear.  Then  the  faint  gallop  of  hoofs 
told  her  that  Siegfried  had  gone  forth  into  the  world 
to  play  the  part  Fate  gave  him. 

Several  days  passed  by.  Grani  steadily  and 
swiftly  bore  his  rider  over  mountains,  through  val- 
leys, and  across  rivers  with  untiring  zeal.  It  was 
not  until  they  reached  the  noble  river  Rhine  that 
Siegfried  drew  rein.  Upon  the  crest  of  a  hill, 
across  the  stream  from  where  they  stood,  rose  a 
splendid  castle.  It  seemed  to  belong  to  the  king 
of  the  country,  for  it  was  very  large,  and  a  pennant 


74  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

floated  from  an  upper  turret.  The  current  of  the 
river  was  deep  and  swift  at  this  point,  but  a  small 
boat  was  moored  not  far  from  Siegfried. 

"Come,  Grani!"  he  said,  dismounting;  "I  will 
take  the  boat,  while  you  swim  beside  me  across  the 
stream.  This  promises  an  adventure!" 

Grani  obeyed,  and  they  were  soon  in  the  channel, 
heading  toward  the  castle. 

Now  this  castle  was  the  seat  of  a  king  of  an  an- 
cient and  warlike  tribe.  His  name  was  Gunther, 
and  he  tried  to  deal  fairly  with  every  man.  He  had 
a  beautiful  sister  Gudrun;  and,  also,  a  half-brother 
named  Hagen,  a  sly  fellow  who  was  always  plot- 
ting mischief.  Hagen,  in  fact,  was  the  evil  genius 
of  the  castle.  You  will  not  wonder  at  this  when 
I  tell  you  that  he  was  of  kin  to  the  Nibelungs, 
Alberich  and  Mime. 

Like  all  of  dwarf  blood,  Hagen  had  a  passion  for 
gold,  and  was  also  adept  at  discovering  secrets. 
He  knew  of  the  stolen  Rhine-Gold ;  and  he  had  also 
learned — perhaps  through  Alberich — of  Siegfried's 
quest  of  Brunhilde.  Thereupon  he  began  to  plot, 
and  he  told  King  Gunther  just  enough  of  his  plot- 
ting to  get  the  monarch's  interest  aroused. 

On  this  very  day  when  Siegfried  had  started 
across  the  river  toward  the  castle,  Hagen  had  been 
telling  the  King  that  he  ought  to  find  a  queen. 
And  then  he  told  of  the  beauty  of  Brunhilde,  and 


The  three  maidens  swam  close  to  the  shore 


THE  RING  OF  THE  CURSE  75 

how  she  slept  upon  a  lofty  cliff  surrounded  by  a 
barrier  of  fire. 

"None  but  the  bravest  of  heroes  can  rescue  her," 
Hagen  continued.  "But  there  is  one  who  is  even 
now  upon  this  quest.  He  is  called  the  bravest  of 
the  brave,  and  his  name  is  Siegfried." 

Then  turning  to  the  Princess  Gudrun,  he  added 
slyly,  "Perchance  Siegfried  is  the  hero  you  have 
been  awaiting,  O  Princess !  He  is  handsome  as  he 
is  brave." 

Now  Gunther  liked  not  the  idea  of  another  man 
being  braver  than  he.  But  he  only  said,  "I  should 
like  much  to  see  the  fair  Brunhilde;  but  if  I  could 
not  pierce  the  flame,  how  could  I  persuade  Sieg- 
fried to  do  so  in  my  stead,  seeing  this  is  his  own 
quest?" 

"Leave  that  to  me,"  laughed  Hagen.  "I  would 
brew  him  a  drink  that  would  make  him  forget  all 
his  past — his  plans  and  wishes — and  he  would  love 
the  first  lady  his  eyes  fell  upon." 

He  looked  again  slyly  at  Gudrun,  who  blushed 
red,  but  wished  within  her  heart  that  she  could  see 
this  Siegfried.  Her  wish  was  soon  to  be  gratified, 
for  just  as  Hagen  finished  speaking  they  heard  the 
sound  of  a  horn,  out  on  the  river,  blown  in  chal- 
lenge. 

"Who  dares  challenge  Gunther  in  his  own  cas- 
tle?" exclaimed  the  King,  starting  up. 


76  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

Hagen  hurried  to  the  battlements. 

"I  see  a  knight  clad  in  glittering  gold  armour," 
he  said.  "  He  is  in  a  boat  alone;  and  by  the  boat 
swims  a  horse.  With  your  favour  I  will  meet  him 
at  the  landing."  And  Hagen  seized  sword  and 
helmet  and  hastened  out. 

King  Gunther  followed  him,  his  curiosity  being 
aroused  by  the  challenge  and  Hagen's  description. 
Together  in  silence  they  awaited  the  coming  of  the 
boat  which  made  swift  progress  against  the  current, 
driven  by  Siegfried's  muscular  arms.  Soon  it 
touched  the  bank,  and  the  young  man  sprang  out. 
Drawing  his  sword  he  saluted  the  two  and  then 
placed  himself  on  guard. 

"I  am  Siegfried,"  he  said  simply,  "and  if  any 
man  gainsay  my  landing  on  these  shores,  I  am 
ready  to  meet  him  in  honourable  combat!" 

"Not  so!"  said  Gunther,  stretching  out  his  hand 
cordially.  "If  your  name  be  Siegfried,  then  am  I 
right  glad  to  welcome  you !  Much  have  I  heard  of 
your  prowess,  and  more  would  I  fain  hear  while 
you  rest  yourself  at  my  board.  I  am  Gunther." 

Siegfried  looked  him  frankly  in  the  eye,  then 
gripped  his  hand.  Hagen  also  exchanged  greet- 
ings with  him  and  led  Grani  away  to  the  stables. 
Hagen  was  overjoyed  at  the  turn  affairs  had  taken. 
With  his  swift  cunning  he  lost  no  time  in  putting 
his  own  schemes  into  play;  and  before  he  joined  the 


THE  RING  OF  THE  CURSE  77 

King  and  his  guest  he  found  time  to  brew  the  drink 
of  forgetfulness,  about  which  he  had  told  the  King 
only  a  few  minutes  previously. 

Returning  to  the  hall,  Hagen  found  the  King 
and  his  guest  breaking  bread  together  and  chatting 
in  a  friendly  way.  Gunther  with  true  hospitality 
had  thrown  open  his  home  and  realm  to  the  hero. 
Siegfried  on  his  part  offered  to  serve  the  King  with 
his  sword  and  steed  when  any  need  should  arise. 

"But  how  did  you  know  of  me,  or  even  that  I 
am  Siegfried?"  he  asked  bluntly. 

"We  have  already  heard  great  things  of  your 
prowess,"  replied  Hagen,  joining  in  the  talk;  "and 
the  magic  helmet  would  betray  you,  else." 

"The  magic  helmet?"  repeated  the  young  man. 

"Yes,  the  cap  of  darkness  you  have  at  your  belt. 
Have  you  never  tried  its  wonderful  properties  ?  By 
its  aid  you  can  assume  any  shape  you  choose." 

Siegfried  had  never  heard  of  the  helmet's  power 
before.  He  did  not  attempt  to  conceal  his  surprise, 
but  said  nothing. 

Just  then  the  beautiful  Princess  Gudrun  entered 
the  room.  She  bore  a  golden  salver,  upon  which 
stood  a  goblet.  She  had  already  beheld  the  hero 
secretly,  and  now  willingly  brought  him  the  fatal 
cup  of  forgetfulness  which  Hagen  had  made. 

"Welcome  to  the  palace  of  King  Gunther!"  she 
said  with  downcast  eyes.  "Will  my  lord  Siegfried 
drink  a  refreshing  brew?" 


78  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

Siegfried  thanked  her  courteously  and  placed  the 
goblet  to  his  lips.  But  though  he  bowed  to  her 
and  the  King,  the  toast  which  he  whispered  to  him- 
self was,  "To  the  health  of  my  Brunhilde!  May 
her  memory  never  grow  dim!" 

But  alas !  no  sooner  had  he  swallowed  the  potion 
than  all  his  past  life  was  blotted  out!  He  seemed 
like  one  awakened  from  a  heavy  slumber,  for  he 
rubbed  his  eyes  and  glanced  wildly  about  him. 

"Where  am  I?"  he  asked,  leaning  upon  a  chair 
for  support.  "What  has  happened?" 

Then  his  glance  fell  upon  Gudrun  who  stood 
silent  and  ashamed  of  what  she  had  done.  As  he 
looked,  a  flame  of  love  was  kindled  in  his  heart  for 
her,  by  the  power  of  the  magic  draught. 

"Who  is  this  fair  creature?"  he  asked,  turning 
to  the  King.  "Is  she  your  wife?" 

"She  is  my  sister,"  answered  Gunther.  "I  have 
no  wife." 

"It  is  not  well  for  man  to  live  alone ;  and  all  the 
more  if  he  be  king." 

"That  is  what  my  brother  Hagen  has  told  me. 
But  the  one  woman  I  could  wish  to  win,  methinks, 
is  not  attainable." 

"How  so?"  asked  Siegfried. 

"She  is  hedged  about  by  a  barrier  of  fire." 

"A  barrier  of  fire?"  said  Siegfried  slowly,  and 
rubbing  his  eyes  again.  "A  barrier  of  fire?" 


THE  RING  OF  THE  CURSE  79 

"She  can  only  be  reached  by  one  who  is  brave 
enough  to  force  his  way  through  the  flame,"  con- 
tinued Gunther;  "by  one  who  knows  no  fear." 

"One  who  knows  no  fear?"  again  repeated  Sieg- 
fried. "I  knew  such  a  man  once."  But  he  shook 
his  head  sadly  and  gave  up  trying  to  think. 

"Yes,"  added  the  King,  "he  who  knows  no  fear 
can  alone  win  Brunhilde  for  his  bride." 

Siegfried  made  no  immediate  reply.  The  potion 
had  done  its  full  work,  and  he  had  utterly  forgot- 
ten Brunhilde.  Presently  he  said: 

"I  know  not  the  maid  of  whom  you  speak.  But 
methinks  she  could  not  be  as  fair  as  your  sweet 
sister." 

Gudrun  ran  hastily  from  the  room  at  this. 

"I  would  be  willing  to  go  far  to  win  her  favour," 
he  continued  with  the  frankness  of  youth. 

"Would  you  be  willing  to  aid  King  Gunther 's 
wooing?"  asked  Hagen. 

"Right  gladly,"  answered  Siegfried.  "But 
how?" 

"Your  magic  helmet  would  give  you  his  appear- 
ance," replied  Hagen;  "that  is,  if  you  would  dare 
face  the  barrier  of  fire." 

Siegfried's  eyes  flashed.  "Dare?  I  dare  any- 
thing, if  only  King  Gunther  and  his  fair  sister  give 
me  their  regard!" 

The  King  sprang  to  his  feet  quickly. 


80  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

"Spoken  like  a  man  and  a  brother!"  he  exclaimed. 
"Upon  my  soul,  I  love  you!  And  if  you  will  obtain 
Brunhilde  for  me,  I  shall  undertake  to  win  Gudrun 
for  you." 

"Done!"  said  Siegfried,  grasping  his  hand.  "I 
shall  go  with  you  when  you  wish." 

Then  the  King  ordered  wine  to  be  poured. 

"Come,  drink  a  pledge  with  me!"  he  said. 
"From  this  day  we  are  brothers.  And  on  the  mor- 
row we  will  set  forth." 

Together  they  drank  the  pledge  and  vowed  vows 
of  eternal  friendship. 

Meanwhile  Brunhilde  had  grown  very  lonely. 
Although  she  had  urged  Siegfried  to  go  out  into  the 
world  and  win  greater  fame,  her  heart  still  cried 
for  him,  and  she  wondered,  as  the  days  crept  by, 
when  he  would  return.  She  no  longer  thought  of 
Walhalla,  or  the  War  Maidens.  Her  whole 
thought  was  of  Siegfried  the  fearless. 

One  day  as  she  sat  and  brooded,  she  heard  the 
long-silent  cry  of  the  War  Maidens,  "Hoyo-to-ho !" 
and  looked  up  in  astonishment  to  see  one  of  her 
sisters  come  flying  on  her  steed  through  the  clouds. 
The  next  instant  the  two  maidens  were  sobbing 
upon  each  other's  necks  in  the  joy  of  reunion. 

"How  came  you  to  brave  Wotan's  displeasure?" 
exclaimed  Brunhilde.  "Do  you  not  know  that  I 


THE  RING  OF  THE  CURSE  81 

am  cut  off  from  you,  and  that  you  incur  a  great 
danger  in  coming  thus  to  me?" 

"Wotan  no  longer  cares,"  answered  her  sister. 
"Since  his  Spear  of  Authority  was  broken  he  sits 
in  Walhalla  with  moody  brow.  And,  O  my  sister! 
that  is  why  I  have  come  to  you!  I  heard  him  say 
that  if  you  but  gave  up  the  Ring  of  the  Rhine- 
maidens,  of  your  own  accord,  the  curse  would  be 
removed,  and  the  home  of  the  gods  saved." 

"But  I  cannot  give  it  up !"  exclaimed  Brunhilde, 
wildly  pressing  the  Ring  to  her  heart.  "It  is  my 
betrothal  ring  from  Siegfried,  and  I  have  promised 
to  guard  it  always!" 

"That  is  the  only  way  Walhalla  can  be  saved! 
Surely  you  can  do  that  little  thing!"  her  sister  en- 
treated. 

"What  care  I  for  Walhalla?"  said  Brunhilde, 
stormily.  "I  have  so  long  been  denied  its  halls 
that  I  have  ceased  to  care.  The  love  of  Siegfried 
is  the  dearest  thing  I  have  in  the  world.  Wotan 
cannot  take  that  away  from  me.  Go  back  and  tell 
him  so!" 

"Then  woe  must  come  upon  us  all!"  cried  her  sis- 
ter; and  seeing  further  entreaty  was  useless,  she 
sprang  hastily  upon  her  steed  and  rode  away. 

Brunhilde  made  no  effort  to  stay  her,  but  fell 
again  into  brooding  silence.  Presently,  however, 
she  heard  the  sound  of  a  horn  and  sprang  eagerly 


82  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

to  her  feet.  It  was  Siegfried's  horn  and  he  was 
returning!  She  rushed  to  the  edge  of  the  rock. 
The  flames  which  had  been  burning  fiercely  parted 
to  right  and  left,  as  once  before,  and  the  form  of 
a  man  appeared.  It  was  indeed  Siegfried,  but  she 
did  not  recognise  him.  He  had  put  the  magic  hel- 
met upon  his  head  and  taken  the  form  of  Gunther. 
With  Gunther's  voice  he  also  spoke  to  her. 

In  a  tremble  she  asked,  "Who  has  dared  come 
where  only  the  fearless  hero  finds  a  way?" 

"I  am  Gunther  the  King,"  he  answered,  "and 
have  come  to  claim  you  as  my  bride." 

"That  cannot  be,"  she  answered.  "I  am  Sieg- 
fried's promised  wife." 

"Siegfried?  You  are  mad!  He  is  promised  to 
another.  Come  with  me." 

"Away!  It  is  not  true!"  she  cried.  "This  is 
his  Ring,  and  in  its  name  I  tell  you  to  begone !" 

She  waved  it  threateningly,  but  he  stepped  for- 
ward. 

"If  that  is  his  Ring,  I  must  take  it,"  he  said. 
And  before  she  could  avoid  him  he  seized  her  hand 
and  removed  the  golden  hoop  from  her  ringer. 

"Come  with  me !"  he  commanded.  "In  the  name 
of  this  bauble,  I  tell  you  to  obey." 

He  had  said  the  words  in  imitation  of  her  man- 
ner, and  not  at  all  expecting  her  to  yield  so  easily, 
for  the  power  of  the  Ring  also  had  gone  from  his 


THE  RING  OF  THE  CURSE  83 

memory.  But  what  was  his  amazement  to  see  her 
come  forward  meekly  and  prepare  to  go  with  him. 
Only  as  she  left  the  rock,  she  turned  her  eyes  toward 
the  sky,  and  moaned. 

"Ah,  Wotan!  I  see  thy  hand  in  this!  Forgive 
me  for  having  defied  thee!" 

Siegfried  could  make  nothing  of  this  outcry;  but 
delighted  that  he  should  succeed  in  his  wooing  for 
Gunther  so  easily,  he  led  her  down  the  mountain- 
side and  bade  her  rest  a  moment  by  a  fountain. 
She  did  so,  when  he  went  swiftly  around  a  rock  and 
disappeared.  The  real  Gunther  who  had  awaited 
him  there  now  came  forward  in  his  stead  with  horses 
and  bade  Brunhilde  mount.  She  sadly  obeyed  and 
rode  with  him  toward  his  castle,  while  Siegfried 
dashed  swiftly  ahead  to  greet  Gudrun  and  await 
their  coming. 

Hagen,  meanwhile,  had  not  been  idle  at  the  pal- 
ace. He  had  seen  Alberich  and  they  had  plotted 
together  as  to  the  best  means  to  seize  the  Ring, 
no  matter  who  should  return  wearing  it.  Hagen 
had  also  talked  with  Gudrun  and  easily  persuaded 
her  to  accept  Siegfried  without  delay  upon  his  re- 
turn. 

Siegfried,  therefore,  found  a  pleasing  welcome 
when  he  presently  arrived;  and  he  had  exchanged 
vows  with  the  Princess  before  the  horns  announced 
that  the  King  was  returning  with  his  bride. 


84  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

Siegfried  and  Gudrun  with  Hagen  met  the  royal 
party  at  the  landing. 

"Welcome  home,  brother!"  said  Siegfried.  "I 
am  overjoyed  to  see  that  you  have  been  as  success- 
ful in  your  suit  as  I  have  been  in  mine." 

Gudrun  also  had  kissed  her  brother.  Brunhilde, 
however,  at  sight  of  Siegfried  started  back. 

"Siegfried !  You  here?  Is  it  true  then  that  you 
are  plighted  to  another?" 

"I  am  plighted  to  Gudrun,"  he  answered  calmly. 

Brunhilde  felt  a  deathly  faintness  come  over  her 
and  came  near  falling  to  the  ground.  Siegfried 
sprang  forward  and  supported  her. 

"Ah,  Siegfried  beloved!  do  you  not  remember 
me?"  she  asked  faintly. 

The  voice  stirred  strange  chords  within  him,  but 
he  did  not  understand  them.  He  quietly  seated 
her,  then  turning,  said,  "Gunther,  your  bride  is  ill." 
And  as  the  King  approached,  he  added  to  her, 
"You  have  been  faint.  See,  here  comes  your  hus- 
band." 

As  he  pointed  to  the  King,  Brunhilde  saw  the 
fatal  Ring  gleaming  upon  Siegfried's  finger. 

"Ha!  the  Ring!"  she  cried.  "Siegfried's  Ring! 
My  Ring!  Where  got  you  it,  if  you  are  not  my 
hero  himself?" 

"She  is  excited  and  overcome  by  her  journey," 
said  Siegfried  to  the  others.  Then  as  if  talking  to 


THE  RING  OF  THE  CURSE  85 

himself  he  went  on,  "This  Ring?  Where  did  I  get 
it,  I  wonder?  It  seems  to  me  that  some  time, 
somewhere — I  forget  just  where — I  fought  a 
dragon  and  wrested  the  Ring  from  him." 

Siegfried  knitted  his  brow  and  strove  to  recall 
the  past.  Hagen  stepped  quickly  forward. 

"This  excitement  is  proving  too  much  for  both 
our  brides  and  bridegrooms,"  he  said  gaily.  "Come, 
let  us  within  where  a  feast  is  spread  in  honour  of 
the  great  day." 

The  King  was  swift  to  see  his  suggestion. 

"Yes,  order  the  trumpets  to  blow!"  he  ordered. 
"We  will  rest  from  our  journey  and  have  public 
f  eastings." 

The  party  entered  the  castle,  Brunhilde  with  the 
rest.  She  had  looked  once  again  beseechingly  at 
Siegfried,  but  all  his  attention  was  bestowed  upon 
Gudrun.  At  last  the  proud  spirit  of  Brunhilde 
flashed  up  at  what  she  deemed  an  insult.  She,  a 
daughter  of  the  gods,  to  be  wooed  and  then  for- 
saken! She  vowed  revenge  upon  Siegfried  for  his 
rudeness. 

However,  she  gave  no  sign  of  all  this.  She 
joined  the  feast,  and  sat  smilingly  at  Gunther's 
side.  She  became  his  wife,  while  still  her  heart 
cried  out  for  her  hero,  and  cried  in  no  less  measure 
for  revenge! 

Hagen  alone  knew  of  the  struggle  that  was  going 


86  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

on  in  Brunhilde's  mind.  He  watched  anxiously 
her  every  action;  and  now  that  he  saw  her  smile 
and  accept  King  Gunther  before  them  all,  he 
rubbed  his  hands  in  glee,  under  the  banquet  board. 
He  saw  that  his  evil  schemes  were  succeeding  just 
as  he  had  planned. 

And  so,  after  the  feast  was  ended,  while  all  was 
laughter  and  music  within  the  hall,  Hagen  came  up 
and  talked  to  Brunhilde.  At  first  it  was  only  idle 
talk  and  hidden  flattery;  then  he  touched  upon 
Siegfried. 

"Speak  not  to  me  of  him,"  said  Brunhilde  coldly. 

"Why  not?"  asked  Hagen  in  feigned  surprise. 
"He  is  said  to  be  the  bravest  hero  in  the  world." 

"He  may  be  brave,  but  I  care  not  to  talk  of  him. 
He  is  the  falsest  man  alive." 

Some  rash  impulse  made  her  say  these  words, 
and  she  regretted  them  as  soon  as  spoken.  But 
Hagen  was  quick  to  follow  them  up. 

"You  amaze  and  alarm  me!"  he  said.  "I  had 
supposed  him  to  be  honourable.  If  he  is  false  he 
is  a  menace  to  our  kingdom,  and  I  for  one  would 
wish  that  he  were  out  of  it." 

"It  would  indeed  be  better  if  he  were  gone,"  said 
Brunhilde,  her  pride  still  making  her  utter  rash 
things. 

"I  am  glad  you  have  advised  me  of  his  true  char- 
acter," said  Hagen  craftily.  "The  King  purposes 


THE  RING  OF  THE  CURSE  87 

to  give  a  hunting  party  to-morrow.  Now  if  Sieg- 
fried should  not  return  from  it,  do  you  think  it 
would  be  better  so?" 

"Yes,"  said  Brunhilde  indifferently,  and  turned 
to  speak  to  the  King. 

But  if  she  gave  no  more  thought  to  these  fate- 
ful words,  Hagen  fairly  hugged  them  in  his  heart. 
He  saw  in  them  a  license  to  do  evil  to  Siegfried. 

The  next  day,  as  he  had  said,  the  King  gave  a 
hunting  party  in  honour  of  the  two  brides.  All 
were  to  meet  at  noonday  for  a  repast  in  a  grove, 
but  were  at  liberty  to  follow,  that  morning, 
wherever  the  chase  might  lead. 

Siegfried's  horse  Grani  soon  outdistanced  all  the 
others  and  led  him  into  a  deep  wood.  There  he 
started  a  bear,  but  after  pursuing  it  for  some  time 
it  disappeared,  and  Siegfried  found  himself  upon 
a  wild  part  of  the  banks  of  the  Rhine.  Being 
thirsty  and  weary  he  dismounted,  drank  at  the 
river's  brink  and  threw  himself  down  upon  a  mossy 
knoll. 

Just  then  he  heard  the  sound  of  singing — a 
melodious  but  unearthly  strain  ending  almost  in 
a  wail.  Looking  around,  he  saw  three  river  nymphs 
rise  out  of  the  water  and  swim  toward  him.  They 
were  the  Rhine-maidens,  but  Siegfried  had  never 
seen  them  before.  However,  he  was  undaunted  at 
the  vision,  and  sought  to  make  a  jest  at  their  ex- 
pense. 


88  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

"Hail,  fair  maidens!"  he  exclaimed.  "Some  elf 
has  led  me  astray,  so  I  desire  your  aid.  This  elf 
was  in  the  shape  of  a  bear,  and  if  he  was  not  a  friend 
of  yours,  I  wish  you  would  help  me  find  him." 

"What  will  you  give  us  if  we  help  you?"  they 
asked. 

"I  have  nothing  to  give  until  I  catch  him,"  re- 
plied Siegfried,  laughing.  "What  do  you  de- 
sire?" 

One  of  the  maidens  swam  to  him  with  out- 
stretched hand. 

"A  golden  Ring  enwraps  your  finger,"  she  said. 
"Give  us  the  Ring  and  we  will  help  you  find  the 
bear." 

"I  think  I  slew  a  huge  dragon  to  win  this  Ring," 
replied  Siegfried  lightly.  "That  would  be  a  sorry 
trade  for  me  to  barter  it  for  a  bear." 

"You  are  selfish,"  the  maidens  sang  teasingly. 
"Be  wise  and  give  us  the  Ring!" 

They  dived  in  and  out  of  the  water  and  Siegfried 
laughed  to  watch  them,  secretly  resolving  to  throw 
them  the  Ring  before  he  left  them,  for  it  had  no 
present  value  in  his  eyes.  But  soon  the  three 
maidens  swam  close  to  the  shore  and  lifted  up  their 
arms  warningly. 

"Beware,  Siegfried!"  they  exclaimed.  "The 
Ring  has  a  curse  upon  it!  Better  give  it  to  us!" 

"A  curse?"  he  asked.  "That  makes  it  interest- 
ing! I  must  hear  about  this  curse." 


THE  RING  OF  THE  CURSE  89 

Then  the  Rhine-maidens  sang, 

"Siegfried!    Siegfried!     Siegfried! 
Sorrow  dire  we  foresee: 
If  thou  wardest  the  Ring, 
A  curse  it  will  be. 
From  the  Gold  of  the  Rhine 
It  was  craftily  wrought, 
Then  cursed  by  the  dwarf 
When  its  magic  he  sought. 
Whoever  shall  own  it 
Is  fated  to  fall; 
The  dragon  thou  slewest 
Was  but  one  among  all. 
To-day  thou  art  stricken — 
Thy  doom  we  divine — 
Unless  thou  returnest 
The  Ring  to  the  Rhine !" 

Siegfried  heard  the  song  through,  then  placed 
the  Ring  tightly  on  his  finger. 

"Ah,  ye  are  trying  to  frighten  me  into  giving  up 
the  trinket!"  he  said.  "But  ye  have  sung  your 
song  to  the  wrong  ears.  I  know  not  what  fear  is 
and  have  been  hunting  it  all  my  life." 

"Beware,  Siegfried!"  the  maidens  cried  entreat- 
ingly,  sinking  once  more  into  the  water's  depths. 

"Farewell!"  he  called  after  them  laughingly.  "I 
must  hasten  to  join  the  hunt." 

The  sound  of  a  far-away  horn  was  now  heard, 
and  he  answered  it  with  his  bugle,  then  hastily 


90  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

mounted  Grani  and  rode  away.  Thanks  to  his 
swift  steed  he  soon  reached  the  spot  agreed  upon 
for  the  noontide  repast.  He  greeted  the  two  ladies, 
the  King,  Hagen  and  the  retainers,  and  seated  him- 
self between  Hagen  and  Gudrun.  Brunhilde  sat 
directly  opposite,  by  the  King's  side. 

As  Siegfried  had  brought  no  game  to  the  feast, 
it  was  jestingly  decreed  that  he  should  entertain 
the  company  by  telling  some  of  his  past  adventures. 
Hagen  passed  goblets  of  wine  to  each  one  present, 
and  took  the  opportunity  to  pour  into  Siegfried's 
cup  a  few  drops  of  a  potion  which  caused  him  to  re- 
member again  some  of  his  past. 

So  Siegfried  began  to  tell  of  his  early  life  in  the 
forest  with  Mime ;  of  how  he  harnessed  the  bear  to 
frighten  the  dwarf;  of  his  Sword  of  Need  and  the 
fight  with  the  dragon. 

The  company  applauded  his  story  and  begged 
him  to  go  on.  He  gladly  did  so,  for  it  now  seemed 
new  and  strange  to  him  also ;  or  as  if  it  had  been  a 
dream.  Hagen  poured  more  of  the  potion  into 
his  goblet. 

"After  I  slew  the  dragon,"  continued  Siegfried, 
"a  strange  thing  happened.  I  chanced  to  get  a 
drop  of  its  blood  upon  my  tongue,  when  I  heard  a 
bird  singing  to  me  and  I  understood  all  it  said.  It 
told  me  of  this  magic  Ring  I  have  on  my  finger  and 
of  the  Rhine-Gold  in  a  cave.  It  also  told  me  of  a 


THE  RING  OF  THE  CURSE  91 

maiden  on  a  mountain  height  surrounded  by  a  bar- 
rier of  fire.  Her  name  was — Brunhilde!" 

He  sprang  to  his  feet,  rubbed  his  eyes,  and 
looked  across  the  table. 

"Her  name  was  Brunhilde!"  he  exclaimed  again; 
and  then  he  stretched  out  his  arms. 

"Brunhilde,  it  was  you,  oh,  my  beloved!  Where 
have  you  been  so  long?" 

Brunhilde  rose  hastily  as  if  to  reply;  but  before 
she  could  utter  a  word  Siegfried  fell  backward. 
Hagen  had  struck  him  treacherously  from  behind 
with  his  spear. 

"What  have  you  done?"  shouted  the  King,  while 
Gudrun  leaned  her  head  swooningly  upon  her 
knees. 

"I  have  slain  a  traitor!"  boldly  replied  Hagen. 
"Did  you  not  hear  him  admit  that  he  had  sought 
Brunhilde  before  he  was  wed  with  the  Princess 
Gudrun?  And  Brunhilde  herself  ordered  his 
death." 

"No,  no!"  shrieked  Brunhilde,  rushing  to  her 
dying  hero's  side.  "Ah,  beloved,  I  see  it  all  now! 
The  curse  of  the  Ring  was  upon  us  and  you  knew 
not  what  you  did!" 

She  lifted  his  head  upon  her  lap  and  tried  to  pour 
wine  down  his  throat.  His  eyes,  which  were  al- 
ready fast  glazing,  opened  again  at  the  touch  of  her 
hand. 


92  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

"Brunhilde !"  he  whispered.  "Where  have  you 
been?  I — have — sought  you — " 

"Siegfried!  Siegfried!  forgive  me!  It  has  all 
been  a  cruel  mistake!  Do  not  die!  Ah,  beloved, 
look  at  me  with  your  dear  eyes  again!  Your  kiss 
awakened  me  from  a  slumber  of  years.  See,  I  kiss 
you  and  love  you.  Why  do  you  not  awaken  as  I 
did?  Do  not  go  away  and  leave  me  again !  I  shall 
not  let  you  go !" 

She  pressed  her  lips  wildly  upon  his,  and  the  kiss 
stayed  his  soul  yet  a  moment  more. 

"Brunhilde — mother — we  will — not — part — 

The  hero  who  knew  no  fear  had  ended  his  brief 
earth  battle. 

Brunhilde  wept  bitterly  in  the  first  outburst  of 
grief.  Then  summoning  all  her  pride  and  resolu- 
tion, she  rose  and  confronted  Hagen. 

"This  is  your  evil  deed!"  she  said.  "You  shall 
not  fasten  thoughtless  words  of  mine  upon  it. 
There  has  been  conspiracy  here,  and  I  fear  that  ye 
all  are  in  it." 

"There  has  indeed  been  conspiracy,"  the  King 
answered  sadly;  "but  Hagen  alone  is  the  doer  of 
this  deed,  and  for  it  he  shall  answer.  Our  con- 
spiracy lay  only  in  giving  Siegfried  a  drink  of  for- 
getfulness.  We  did  not  know  he  had  become 
plighted  to  you ;  and  he  himself  was  made  to  forget 


THE  RING  OF  THE  CURSE  93 

it  by  the  potion.     He  served  us  in  all  innocence." 

Brunhilde  looked  at  Hagen,  Gunther,  and  Gud- 
run  scornfully;  then  turned  to  the  retainers. 

"Take  up  the  body  of  Siegfried,"  she  com- 
manded, "and  bear  it  to  the  river's  brink.  There 
we  will  burn  it  upon  a  funeral  pyre,  and  there  will 
I  consign  this  Ring  of  the  curse  back  to  the  Rhine- 
maidens." 

They  placed  Siegfried  upon  his  shield  and  laid 
the  Sword  of  Need  across  his  breast.  Then  they 
bore  him  as  she  had  commanded  to  the  bank  of  the 
river.  At  sunset  a  great  funeral  pyre  had  been 
erected,  and  the  body  was  laid  upon  it.  A  torch 
was  applied  and  as  the  heap  burst  into  flame,  Brun- 
hilde called  her  steed  Grani  and  mounted  him. 

"Hoyo-to-ho  I"  she  cried,  giving  for  the  last  time 
the  call  of  the  War  Maidens.  "Siegfried,  beloved, 
I  come  to  thee!" 

And  straight  into  the  fire  she  rode,  and  the  flames 
leaping  high  hid  her  and  her  steed  from  view.  But 
out  of  the  midst  of  the  pyre  her  voice  called  to  the 
Rhine-maidens. 

"Behold  the  Ring ;  the  Ring  of  the  curse !  Come, 
seize  it,  and  may  gods  and  men  be  relieved  of  its 
ban!" 

At  her  cry  a  wondrous  thing  was  seen  by  the 
watchers  round  about  the  pyre.  A  great  wave  rose 
out  of  the  bed  of  the  river,  and  on  its  crest  the  three 


94  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

Rhine-maidens  appeared.  Up  over  the  bank 
rushed  the  wave,  quenching  the  fire  as  it  came  and 
sweeping  all  before  it  into  the  water's  depths. 

Suddenly  Hagen  gave  a  fearful  cry.  He  beheld 
the  Ring  again  being  swept  from  beyond  his  grasp, 
and  he  plunged  into  the  current  and  attempted  to 
take  it  from  one  of  the  maidens  who  held  it  ex- 
ultingly  aloft.  But  the  other  two  twined  their 
arms  about  him  and  dragged  him  down  with  them. 
When  the  wave  had  subsided  he  was  no  longer  to 
be  seen;  nor  was  there  any  vestige  of  the  funeral 
pyre  or  Brunhilde.  The  curse  of  the  Ring  was 
wiped  away. 

Just  then  a  reddish  glow  was  seen  in  the  sky. 
Swiftly  it  grew  and  spread  like  the  light  of  many 
auroras.  In  speechless  amazement  the  onlookers 
beheld  this  awe-inspiring  sight.  The  doom  of  the 
gods  had  come  with  the  recovery  of  the  Ring.  Wal- 
halla  was  being  destroyed.  Wotan's  kingdom  was 
at  an  end.  Henceforth  the  world  was  to  press  for- 
ward to  new  and  better  things. 


Parsifal  the  Pure 

(Parsifal) 

YOU  have  just  read  of  the  downfall  of  the 
gods  through  broken  promises,  and  of  a 
great  hero  of  those  early  days  who  fell  a 
victim  to  fate.  And  now  you  may  like  to  hear  of 
another  hero  who  was  even  greater,  for  he  was  su- 
perior to  every  enemy  and  every  temptation  to  the 
end.  The  old  order  of  things  had  long  since  passed 
away.  The  gods  were  indeed  dead,  and  men  be- 
lieved instead  in  one  true  God  and  in  His  beloved 
Son.  A  beautiful  legend  had  grown  out  of  the 
last  days  of  the  Christ  upon  earth ;  and  this  legend 
is  the  golden  thread  upon  which  is  hung  our  present 
story. 

You  remember  that  in  the  Bible  account  of  the 
Last  Supper,  Christ  took  a  cup  and  blessed  the 
wine  in  it  and  gave  it  to  His  disciples  to  drink. 

"  Galahad,  as  Tennyson  portrays  him,  will  always  hold  the  first 
place  with  English  readers  as  the  ideal  Knight  of  the  Holy  Grail. 
The  matchless  diction  of  Tennyson  has  given  the  less  perfect  form  of 
the  legend  a  supreme  charm  and  beauty.  But  Wolfram  von  Eschen- 
bach's  Parsifal,  as  spiritualised  and  humanised  in  Wagner's  lyric 
drama,  will  be  seen  to  be  in  fuller  accord  with  the  whole  cycle  and 
development  of  the  Grail  legends,  and  at  the  same  time  gives  the 
nobler  story."— OLIVER  HUCKEL. 

95 


96  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

The  legend  goes  on  to  relate  that  Joseph  of  Arima- 
thea,  the  man  who  provided  a  tomb  for  Christ, 
obtained  the  blessed  cup  of  the  sacrament,  and  that 
at  the  crucifixion  he  caught  in  it  a  few  drops  of 
blood  from  Christ's  bleeding  side. 

Henceforth  the  Cup  possessed  the  magical  power 
of  healing  all  wounds  and  sicknesses.  It  brought 
perfect  peace  to  its  possessor;  and  the  mere  sight 
of  it  was  esteemed  the  greatest  privilege  on  earth. 
But  it  was  rarely  seen  of  men.  Spirited  away  by 
divine  power,  the  Holy  Grail — as  it  was  called — 
was  shown  only  on  rare  occasions  and  to  the  noblest 
and  most  self-sacrificing  among  its  seekers.  And 
so  its  quest  came  to  be  the  highest  task  a  man  could 
set  himself,  for  it  meant  the  conquering  of  his  own 
baser  nature  first  of  all,  and  the  putting  aside  of 
every  selfish  interest. 

You  may  have  read  the  fine  old  story  of  the  quest 
of  King  Arthur's  Knights  of  the  Round  Table 
for  this  Holy  Grail,  and  how  it  made  them  all 
nobler  and  better,  although  the  inspiring  vision  was 
granted  only  to  two  or  three.  At  that  time  it  had 
no  fixed  place,  and  men  did  not  know  where  or  how 
to  seek  it.  So  it  is  no  wonder  that  so  few  ever  suc- 
ceeded in  the  quest. 

Finally  in  another  land  a  brave  knight,  Titurel 
by  name,  decided  to  devote  his  whole  life  to  seeking 
the  sacred  Cup.  Taking  with  him  his  son,  and  a 


PARSIFAL  THE  PURE  97 

small  but  chosen  body  of  knights,  he  set  forth  trust- 
ing to  the  mercy  of  Heaven  to  favour  his  search. 
Many  days  he  led  his  little  band  across  deserts, 
through  valleys,  and  over  stony  mountain-sides. 
And  as  they  went  they  aided  every  person  who 
crossed  their  path;  they  forsook  all  worldly  pride; 
and  they  spoke  only  in  kindness  and  humility  of 
spirit.  Night  and  morning,  also,  they  prayed  that 
they  might  be  led  to  the  Holy  Grail. 

On  and  on  they  went,  dusty  and  travel-worn  and 
weary,  but  with  the  same  brave  hearts.  Late  one 
evening  they  stopped  for  the  night  in  the  shelter 
of  a  dense  forest.  They  had  travelled  all  day  and 
had  eaten  little,  but  after  resting  a  brief  while  some- 
thing seemed  to  urge  them  forward. 

"Rise,  my  brave  knights,"  said  Titurel,  standing 
stiffly  upon  his  feet.  "Rise,  and  let  us  go  still 
farther  into  this  wood.  I  feel  that  it  is  the  divine 
will." 

Without  murmuring  they  once  more  resumed 
their  march,  and,  wonderful  to  relate,  the  farther 
they  went  the  less  tired  they  grew.  A  strange  feel- 
ing of  rest  and  content  came  over  them  until  in  a 
great  wave  of  joy  they  all  fell  upon  their  knees 
and  gave  thanks.  They  felt  that  at  last  they  were 
nearing  the  Holy  Grail. 

As  they  knelt  a  great  light,  like  noonday,  shone 
round  about  them,  and  a  voice  said: 

H 


98  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

"Arise,  ye  blessed  among  mankind!  For  your 
labours  are  rewarded  and  it  is  given  to  you  to  guard 
the  Holy  Grail.  Near  unto  you  is  a  mountain 
which  shall  be  called  Mount  Salvat,  and  thereupon 
must  ye  build  a  temple.  And  ye  shall  be  called 
the  Knights  of  the  Holy  Grail." 

The  voice  ceased.  The  knights  fell  upon  their 
faces  in  prayer  and  thanksgiving.  When  they 
arose  the  light  had  disappeared,  but  in  each  face 
was  reflected  a  lofty  purpose  born  of  its  glory. 

The  next  morning  they  went  their  way  to  Mount 
Salvat  and  there  built  the  temple.  High  were  its 
walls,  with  lofty  arches  and  beautiful  windows,  and 
its  fame  as  the  most  imposing  temple  in  all  the 
world  soon  went  abroad.  And  when  it  was  fin- 
ished and  they  held  the  solemn  service  of  dedica- 
tion, a  light  came  and  glowed  steadily  in  the  crypt. 
While  all  the  knights  fell  upon  their  knees,  Titurel 
drew  near  and  lifted  a  veil.  There  in  all  its  beauty 
shone  the  Holy  Grail! 

Then  Titurel  and  the  knights  were  filled  with 
great  joy,  and  they  vowed  eternal  service  to  the 
sacred  charge.  They  became,  indeed,  a  sort  of 
priesthood  and  forsook  all  other  aims  or  desires. 
Daily  they  worshipped  in  the  temple,  and  were  fed 
from  the  holy  altar.  And  if  any  among  them  be- 
came wounded  or  ill,  the  mystic  fire  which  glowed 
about  the  Cup  speedily  restored  them  to  health. 


PARSIFAL  THE  PURE  99 

For  many  years  they  kept  their  charge  with 
zealous  faith.  Titurel  their  head  became  an  old 
man,  and  Amfortas  his  son  was  appointed  chief 
guardian  of  the  Grail  in  his  stead. 

Meanwhile,  as  you  may  suppose,  many  other 
knights  were  desirous  of  being  admitted  into  the 
temple;  but  none  save  those  who  led  pure  and  sin- 
cere lives  were  ever  accepted.  Among  those  who 
were  rejected  because  they  were  unworthy  was  a 
powerful  magician  named  Klingsor.  When  he 
failed  to  win  entrance  in  the  usual  way  he  tried  to 
bribe  the  keepers  of  the  gates  and  to  make  use  of 
other  base  methods,  but  without  success. 

In  his  rage,  Klingsor  swore  vengeance  and  de- 
voted all  his  wicked  arts  to  overthrowing  the  Tem- 
ple of.  the  Grail.  He  made  a  beautiful  garden  on 
the  other  side  of  the  mountain,  which  he  filled  with 
flowers,  fruits,  music  and  dancing  girls.  By  this 
means  he  deluded  many  knights  who  had  come  from 
afar  earnestly  seeking  the  Holy  Grail,  so  that,  al- 
most at  the  goal,  they  forgot  their  quest  and  tarried 
idly  in  the  gardens. 

Hearing  of  Klingsor's  wicked  arts,  Amfortas 
was  filled  with  righteous  anger.  He  determined 
to  go  forth  and  strike  down  the  magician  with  the 
sacred  Spear,  which  was  his  high  badge  of  office. 
This  Spear  was  second  only  to  the  Grail  itself  in 
value.  It  was  the  same  that  had  pierced  the 


100  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

Saviour's  side  while  He  was  on  the  cross.  It  gave 
to  its  bearer  the  power  of  overcoming  all  his  ene- 
mies, so  long  as  he  was  true  to  the  faith.  But 
Amfortas  though  zealous  was  too  confident  of  his 
own  strength.  Going  over  the  mountain  hastily 
in  search  of  Klingsor,  he  grew  tired  and  thirsty; 
so  when  he  came  to  a  shady  grove  of  fruit-trees 
by  a  splashing  fountain,  he  did  not  recognise  this 
as  one  of  the  wiles  of  the  magician,  but  ate  and 
drank,  then  threw  himself  down  on  the  cool  grass 
and  fell  asleep.  The  Spear  was  loosened  from  his 
grasp,  in  his  slumber,  and  he  was  only  awakened 
by  a  keen,  smarting  pain  in  his  side.  He  found 
that  he  had  been  wounded;  and  as  he  sprang  to  his 
feet  he  confronted  Klingsor  who  was  waving  aloft 
the  Spear  in  triumph. 

"Go  back  to  your  temple!"  sneered  Klingsor; 
"and  bid  the  next  man  be  not  weary  so  soonl" 

In  shame  and  sorrow  Amfortas  departed,  know- 
ing that  he  had  sinned  and  could  do  nothing  against 
the  Spear  now  in  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  Ear- 
nestly he  did  penance  in  the  temple  and  confessed 
his  fault,  but  the  wound  in  his  side  never  healed. 
It  gave  him  daily  torment,  and  the  sight  of  the 
Grail  which  had  once  brought  healing  seemed  only 
to  increase  the  pain. 

It  had  been  Amfortas'  duty  to  uncover  the  Grail 
each  day  at  sacrament,  but  so  dire  was  his  suffer- 


PARSIFAL  THE  PURE  101 

ing  that  he  came  to  do  it  less  and  less  frequently. 
The  knights  were  very  sorrowful  because  of  these 
things,  and  they  sent  far  and  wide  for  healing  bal- 
sams, but  all  remedies  were  powerless.  Long  did 
Amfortas  kneel  before  the  altar  praying  in  his  pain, 
and  seeking  for  a  word  of  hope  from  above.  At 
length  one  day  an  added  radiance  glowed  about  the 
Grail,  and  he  heard  a  voice  saying, 

"By  pity  enlightened, 
My  guileless  one, — 
Wait  thou  for  him 
Till  my  will  is  done!" 

Amfortas  could  not  understand  these  words,  but 
somehow  his  heart  was  lightened,  and  he  thanked 
God  that  one  day,  be  it  near  or  far,  he  should  find 
relief.  The  other  Knights  of  the  Grail  also  heard 
with  joy  of  the  strange  message,  for  they  did  not 
doubt  that  it  meant  healing  and  peace. 

For  many  days  they  waited  patiently  and  prayer- 
fully without  receiving  any  further  sign.  Amfor- 
tas strove  to  sustain  his  courage,  but  it  was  a  bitter 
test.  Daily  he  tried  the  baths  and  also  the  balms 
which  his  knights  often  went  to  much  peril  to  obtain 
for  him ;  yet  the  wound  still  showed  no  signs  of  heal- 
ing, and  deep  gloom  settled  down  over  the  temple. 

One  day  while  the  aged  keeper  of  the  gate  was 
sitting,  as  was  his  wont,  with  his  face  toward  the 


102  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 


little  lake  which  nestled  in  the  valley,  his  eye  was 
attracted  by  a  wild  swan  which  soared  peacefully 
above  the  lake.  Suddenly  it  turned  sidewise  with 
a  wild  flutter  of  pinions  and  began  to  fall  toward 
the  water.  The  keeper  saw  that  it  was  wounded 
by  an  arrow,  and  he  hastened  down  to  the  lake  to 
see  who  had  done  the  deed ;  for  it  was  forbidden  to 
harm  any  creature,  great  or  small,  within  sight  of 
the  temple. 

Just  as  he  reached  the  bank,  the  swan  fell  at  his 
feet  and  expired,  while  at  the  same  moment  a  youth 
ran  up  to  claim  his  prize.  He  was  clothed  in  mot- 
ley animal  skins,  but  he  was  strong  and  well  knit, 
and  with  that  frank  look  about  the  eye  which  de- 
notes both  fearlessness  and  innocence. 

''Shame,  shame  upon  you,  boy,  for  shooting  the 
swan !"  said  the  old  man  sternly. 

"Why,  what  have  I  done?"  answered  the  youth. 
"Do  not  men  hunt  birds  and  beasts?  Methought 
it  was  a  fine  thing  that  I  struck  the  bird  so  high." 

"But  you  are  now  within  holy  ground,  where  'tis 
sacrilege  to  harm  any  creature.  And  think  what 
sorrow  you  have  brought  with  your  idle  deed.  This 
beautiful  bird  will  soar  in  the  clouds  no  more.  It 
may  have  a  mate,  or  perhaps  little  ones  awaiting 
its  coming.  They  will  never  see  it  again." 

The  boy  stood  with  downcast  eyes  and  troubled 
face.  "Indeed,  I  never  thought  evil,"  he  said. 


PARSIFAL  THE  PURE  103 

And  seized  by  a  sudden  impulse  he  broke  his  bow 
across  his  knee  and  flung  his  arrows  away. 

"What  is  your  name,  boy?"  asked  the  knight. 

"I  am  Parsifal,"  he  answered  simply. 

"Whence  come  you?" 

"I  do  not  know." 

"Where  go  you?" 

"I  go  to  become  a  knight,"  answered  the  boy. 
"I  have  always  wanted  to  be  a  knight." 

"But  do  you  not  know  that  great  things  are  ex- 
pected of  a  knight?  They  must  do  other  deeds 
than  roaming  about  shooting  harmless  swans." 

The  boy  flushed,  but  looked  straight  at  the  stern 
old  man.  "I  know  that  a  man  must  be  brave  and 
true,"  he  said;  "and  that  he  must  keep  his  heart 
pure.  My  father,  who  died  long  ago,  was  such  a 
knight,  and  my  mother  has  always  taught  me  to  be 
like  him." 

"But  you  will  have  many  strong  trials  before  you 
can  become  a  knight.  You  may  have  to  wander 
all  over  the  world  and  endure  many  hardships." 

"I  am  ready  for  them,"  answered  the  boy 
sturdily. 

"Truly  you  are  a  guileless  fellow,"  said  the  old 
keeper;  "but  I  like  your  spirit.  Would  you  like 
to  witness  a  service  in  the  temple  and  hear  the 
choir-boys  sing?  Perchance  you  would  like  to  be 
a  choir-boy  for  awhile?" 


104  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

"Nay,  but  I  came  to  be  a  knight.  Nathless  I 
will  hear  the  singing." 

The  boy  said  this  so  calmly,  that  the  knight  was 
half  sorry  he  had  given  the  invitation;  for  chances 
to  obtain  entrance  to  the  service  were  exceedingly 
rare.  However,  the  word  had  been  spoken  and 
he  would  abide  by  it. 

They  cast  the  dead  swan  into  the  lake  and  went 
together  up  the  hill.  Service  of  the  sacrament  was 
just  being  begun  in  the  temple  as  they  entered  its 
doors.  High  up  in  the  organ  loft  the  rolling  waves 
of  music  poured  forth,  filling  every  arch  of  the 
lofty  building.  Then  the  sweet  voices  of  boys 
were  heard  chanting  the  refrain  to  which  Amf ortas 
had  set  music: 

"By  pity  enlightened, 
My  guileless  one, — 
Wait  thou  for  him 
Till  my  will  is  done!" 

Parsifal  plucked  the  old  knight's  sleeve.  "What 
do  they  mean  by  that?"  he  asked. 

"Hush.     I  do  not  know,"  replied  the  knight. 

Parsifal  thought  it  strange  that  they  should  sing 
words  no  one  understood,  but  he  kept  silence  and 
looked  upon  the  solemn  service  with  wide-open 
eyes. 

The  aged  Titurel  was  present  at  the  service. 
His  days  were  almost  numbered  now,  but  he  still 


PARSIFAL  THE  PURE  105 

had  his  couch  conveyed  into  the  presence  of  the  be- 
loved Grail  when  he  felt  strong  enough.  To-day 
he  joined  the  other  knights  in  urging  his  son  Am- 
fortas  to  uncover  the  Cup  and  serve  the  sacrament. 

"Let  me  have  the  sacrament  from  out  the  blessed 
Cup  once  more  before  I  die,"  said  Titurel. 

Amfortas  shook  his  head  and  groaned  aloud. 

"Not  yet,  my  father!  I  am  unworthy  to  un- 
cover the  Grail!" 

Nevertheless  the  feeble  Titurel  urged  the  point, 
and  all  the  knights  knelt  with  solemn  upturned 
faces,  until  at  last  Amfortas  went  and  unveiled  the 
Cup  and  poured  wine  therefrom,  so  that  all  might 
partake.  Then  he  fell  to  the  floor  with  a  shudder 
of  pain.  The  old  wound  had  broken  open  afresh. 
But  Titurel  and  the  other  knights  partook  of  the 
sacrament,  while  the  choir-boys  chanted  respon- 
sively  and  the  deep  organ  pipes  thrilled  all  the  lofty 
arches. 

The  old  keeper  of  the  gate  went  forward  and 
partook  with  the  rest,  while  the  boy  Parsifal  stood 
spellbound  behind  a  pillar  and  could  make  no  mean- 
ing of  what  he  saw. 

At  last  the  keeper  came  and  led  him  forth  again 
to  the  open  air,  and  then  the  lad's  tongue  was 
loosed. 

"I  pray  thee,  why  did  the  King  fall  to  the  floor 
as  if  in  pain?"  he  asked. 


106  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

"The  wound  in  his  side  pained  him,"  answered 
the  keeper. 

"Why  doesn't  it  heal?" 

"That  is  a  long  story.  But  the  wound  was  made 
hy  the  sacred  Spear,  and  'tis  said  that  only  the 
touch  of  that  Spear  again  can  make  it  well." 

"Then  why  does  he  not  go  and  lay  hold  of  the 
Spear?" 

"It  is  in  a  powerful  magician's  hands." 

"Can  no  one  take  it  from  him?" 

"No  one  has  yet  succeeded  in  the  quest,"  an- 
swered the  knight.  "But,  boy,  how  did  you  like  the 
service  of  the  Holy  Grail?" 

"I  could  make  nothing  of  it,"  said  Parsifal,  turn- 
ing as  if  to  go. 

"Could  make  nothing  of  it!"  exclaimed  the  old 
knight.  "Truly  you  would  not  be  much  of  a  choir- 
boy. But  where  are  you  going?" 

"I  go  to  seek  the  Spear  that  will  heal  the  King," 
answered  Parsifal. 

The  old  knight  let  him  go  without  further  words. 
He  even  shook  his  head  in  some  impatience. 

"Truly  a  guileless  youth,"  he  said  to  himself. 
"A  little  knocking  about  in  the  world  will  not  hurt 
him.  He  is  too  foolish  to  do  us  any  good  here. 
And  as  to  being  a  knight — pish!" 

But  just  then  the  closing  words  of  the  service 
came  echoing  through  the  windows,  and  caused  the 


PARSIFAL  THE  PURE  107 

old  man  to  start.     He  had  heard  again  the  mystic 
song, 

"By  pity  enlightened, 
My  guileless  one!" 

Now  Klingsor  the  magician  had  cast  a  spell  over 
a  poor  woman  so  that  she  was  obliged  to  obey  him 
in  all  things.  Usually  she  was  old  and  wrinkled, 
and  passed  for  a  witch  in  the  countryside.  But 
when  Klingsor  waved  his  wand  over  her  she  be- 
came the  most  beautiful  maiden  ever  seen.  Kundry 
was  her  name,  and  she  it  was  who  had  charge  of  the 
groves  and  flowers  and  music  and  dancing  girls 
which  had  caused  so  many  knights  to  turn  aside  be- 
fore ever  they  reached  the  Temple  of  the  Grail. 
Kundry,  indeed,  had  caused  Amfortas  himself  to 
sin,  on  the  day  he  lost  the  Sacred  Spear. 

But  when  the  spell  was  removed  from  poor  Kun- 
dry she  always  bitterly  repented  her  misdeeds.  She 
had  been  very  sorry  for  Amfortas,  in  her  wild  way, 
and  had  herself  brought  balsam  from  distant  lands 
to  heal  his  wound,  but  without  avail. 

No  sooner  was  Parsifal  on  his  way  in  search  of 
the  sacred  Spear,  than  Klingsor  was  on  the  alert. 
Once  more  he  summoned  Kundry  and  bade  her  pre- 
pare the  same  kind  of  a  trap  for  Parsifal  as  had 
lured  the  knights  aside.  But  Kundry  hotly  pro- 
tested ,at  this.  She  had  seen  the  youth  and  greatly 


108  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

liked  his  open  face  and  frankness.     She  rebelled 
against  doing  harm  to  one  so  harmless  as  he. 

"Let  him  pass  on  his  way,"  she  pleaded.  "He 
has  done  no  evil  and  is  too  simple  to  find  you  un- 
aided, and  even  if  he  did,  he  could  not  take  the 
Spear  from  you." 

"Do  as  I  bid  you!"  replied  the  magician,  angrily. 
"It  is  precisely  because  he  is  pure  and  innocent  that 
I  fear  him.  Such  an  one's  coming  has  long  been 
foretold." 

So  Kundry  had  nothing  to  do  but  sadly  obey. 

When  Parsifal  drew  near,  walking  over  the  crest 
of  the  hill,  the  palace  of  Klingsor  suddenly  sank 
into  the  earth  and  vanished,  leaving  in  its  stead  a 
lovely  flower-garden.  Presently  Parsifal  stopped 
and  listened,  for  he  heard  strains  of  music. 

"How  sweet  it  sounds!"  he  said;  "yet  it  seems  to 
make  the  air  heavy  and  uncomfortable.  I  wonder, 
where  it  comes  from?" 

Louder  grew  the  music,  and  with  it  came  the 
sound  of  girls'  voices.  Just  then  he  came  to  the 
entrance  of  the  garden,  where  he  paused  spellbound. 
The  flowers  themselves  were  singing  to  him !  Each 
flower  was  in  the  lovely  tints  of  a  rose,  lily,  pansy 
or  carnation,  and  out  of  the  centre  of  each  blossom 
peeped  the  bright  eyes  and  laughing  face  of  a  be- 
witching maiden. 

"Come!"  they  sang  to  him;  "come  and  rest,  by 


PARSIFAL  THE  PURE  109 

the  fountains !  Come,  drink  nectar,  and  let  us  sing 
to  you  while  you  rest  in  the  shade!" 

"Nay,"  said  Parsifal,  simply.  "I  like  you  all, 
and  would  gladly  listen  to  your  song;  but  I  cannot 
tarry,  for  I  am  on  an  urgent  errand." 

"Come!"  they  pleaded;  and  the  flowers  seemed  to 
weave  in  and  out  in  a  wonderful  dance,  nodding  to 
him  and  beckoning  him.  "Come!  Only  a  little 
while !  Then  you  will  start  forth  rested  and  make 
better  speed." 

Parsifal  shook  his  head.  "I  cannot  enter,"  he 
said,  and  turned  to  go,  when  another  voice  softer 
than  the  rest  called  his  name. 

"Who  called  me?"  he  asked,  turning  about. 

"I  called  thee,  lad,"  said  the  sweet  voice. 

He  looked  whence  it  came  and  saw  a  leafy  bower 
opened  wide,  and  in  it  sat  a  maiden  fairer  than 
ever  heart  could  dream.  It  was  Kundry,  the  ugly 
old  witch,  transformed  by  the  power  of  the  magi- 
cian into  this  glorious  vision. 

"How  did  you  know  my  name?"  he  asked, 
bluntly. 

"I  knew  thy  mother,  lad,  and  thy  father,  too. 
Wouldst  hear  of  them?" 

"Yes,  yes!"  he  cried  eagerly.  "Tell  me  of 
them!" 

"Then  come  within  the  bower  and  rest  awhile. 
Here  thou  canst  listen  to  the  music  and  eat  and 
drink  and  dance  with  these  lovely  flowers." 


110  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

"Nay,  but  tell  me  now!  Why  should  I  pause 
when  I  am  not  faint?  No  good  deed  was  ever  done 
by  stopping  on  the  way." 

"  Thou  art  a  foolish  youth,"  said  the  maiden. 
"Why  art  thou  in  so  great  haste?" 

"I  seek  a  magician,"  he  answered,  frankly;  "a 
magician  who  has  stolen  the  sacred  Spear." 

"Ah,  I  can  tell  thee  of  him!"  she  cried — an  evil 
light  lurking  in  her  eyes.  "Come,  sit  by  my  side, 
and  I  will  tell  not  only  of  him  but  of  thy  father 
and  mother." 

Parsifal  turned  at  this,  but  entered  the  garden 
slowly.  He  knew  no  reason  why  he  should  not 
come  in,  and  yet  a  great  force  seemed  holding  him 
back.  "But  how  can  I  go  on  my  errand,"  he 
thought,  "unless  I  find  the  way?" 

"I  would  hear  about  my  mother  first,"  he  said, 
seating  himself  by  the  maiden's  side.  "Is  she 
well?" 

"She  is  well,  but  has  mourned  sadly  since  thou 
didst  go  away.  I  saw  her  only  a  few  days  ago,  and 
she  sent  thee  her  love  and  a  kiss." 

Here  the  witch  leaned  forward  suddenly  and 
printed  a  kiss  upon  his  lips.  It  was  intended  to  en- 
chant him,  but  for  once  it  failed  of  its  effect.  Par- 
sifal sprang  up  as  if  stung  by  an  asp. 

"Amfortas!  O  Amfortas!"  he  cried.  "I  know 
it  now!  The  spear- wound  in  your  side!  Ah,  the 
anguish  of  it  has  come  upon  me  also!" 


PARSIFAL  THE  PURE  111 

"Thou  art  wrong,"  said  the  woman  softly.  "I 
have  harmed  thee  not.  Only  stay!" 

"Not  another  moment!"  exclaimed  Parsifal. 
"Your  garden  is  evil  and  brings  death  to  men's 
souls." 

He  turned  to  go,  but  the  witch  called  aloud  to 
the  magician,  for  she  knew  her  power  was  gone. 
And  as  she  called,  Parsifal  saw  a  dark,  dreadful 
figure  before  him  that  blocked  his  way. 

"Stay!"  commanded  Klingsor,  waving  the  sacred 
Spear  aloft.  "Those  who  enter  my  garden  can- 
not leave  it  so  easily!" 

"Stand  aside!"  cried  Parsifal.  "I  have  done  no 
hurt,  and  I  fear  you  not!" 

"Thou  wilt  fear  me  when  thou  dost  feel  this 
spearpoint!  'Tis  the  same  that  undid  Amfortas." 

"Ha!  say  you  so?  Then  I  have  come  to  claim  it 
in  his  name." 

"Take  it!"  shouted  the  magician  angrily.  And 
he  threw  the  weapon  straight  at  Parsifal  with  ter- 
rific force. 

But  miracle  of  miracles !  it  stopped  of  itself  mid- 
way, and  floated  gently  round  about  Parsifal's 
head.  He  grasped  it  reverently  and  made  the 
sign  of  the  cross. 

"In  this  sign,  perish!"  he  exclaimed.  "Let  all 
your  wicked  magic  vanish  from  the  face  of  the 
earth!" 


112  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

As  he  uttered  these  words  a  tremendous  crash 
was  heard,  followed  by  an  earthquake.  The  gar- 
den, its  flowers  and  music  and  running  streams, 
were  swallowed  up  in  an  instant,  with  all  its  in- 
mates. Parsifal  alone  remained  on  solid  ground. 

He  looked  about  him,  but  could  see  only  a  track- 
less forest  with  close  spreading  trees  that  shut  out 
the  blue  sky  and  the  light  of  the  sun.  He  did  not 
know  which  way  to  turn,  or  where  stood  the  Temple 
of  the  Grail.  But  the  sacred  spear  was  still  in  his 
hand,  and  its  presence  seemed  to  bring  comfort. 
He  knelt  and  prayed  for  guidance,  and  as  if  in 
answer,  the  words  of  the  old  knight  came  into  his 
memory, 

"You  may  have  to  wander  all  over  the  world  and 
endure  many  hardships." 

The  young  Parsifal  wondered  at  this  message. 
It  seemed  to  come  in  answer  to  his  prayer,  and  yet 
his  spirit  rose  in  questioning.  "Why  should  I 
roam  over  the  world  when  the  King  needs  me  so 
much,  and  his  wound  is  not  healed?" 

But  no  other  answer  came,  and  no  path  led  out 
of  the  forest.  So  he  made  no  further  questions  but 
went  his  way,  trusting  to  Heaven  to  guide  him,  and 
the  sacred  Spear  to  protect  him.  When  at  last  he 
reached  the  borders  of  the  wood  he  found  himself 
in  a  strange  country. 

Thus  it  was  that  Parsifal  began  his  pilgrimage. 


Thus  it  was  that  Parsifal  began  his  pilgrimage 


PARSIFAL  THE  PURE  113 

Long  and  hard  it  was,  yet  he  did  not  falter  or  com- 
plain. And  always  his  hand  was  ready  to  help  the 
poor  or  the  suffering,  while  little  children  came  to 
him  gladly  knowing  they  had  found  a  friend. 

Often  his  path  led  over  steep,  rough  mountains; 
again  it  lay  in  burning  sands  of  the  desert;  and 
again  it  was  close  to  treacherous  quicksands  or 
yawning  pits.  But  steadily  he  pressed  forward, 
learning  many  things  as  he  went,  but  never  part- 
ing from  any  of  his  early  purity  or  courage. 

Slowly,  also,  the  great  truth  of  the  Holy  Grail 
dawned  upon  him.  He  heard  men  speak  of  it  with 
reverence  and  longing  as  the  dearest  treasure  the 
earth  possessed.  Then  he  realised  how  lightly  he 
had  thrown  away  his  own  privilege  through  ig- 
norance and  why  the  old  knight  at  the  gate  had 
turned  from  him  with  impatience,  as  "guileless." 
With  humility  and  prayer  he  resolved  that  he  would 
always  try  to  be  worthy  of  this  vision,  in  the  hope 
that  it  would  again  come  to  him.  And  in  moments 
like  this,  when  his  whole  soul  was  stirred  with 
anguish,  he  seemed  to  hear  an  inner  voice  saying, 

"Courage!     The  Holy  Grail  is  not  far  away!" 

Thus  years  passed  by,  and  al  last  Parsifal,  for 
true  and  heroic  service,  was  made  a  knight.  Never 
was  there  a  comelier.  Strong  and  straight  and 
graceful  he  stood,  while  his  face  was  fair  and  pleas- 
ing and  seemed  continually  to  glow  with  an  inner 


114 


light.  His  eye  was  the  very  mirror  of  truth.  He 
was,  indeed,  the  image  of  that  ancient  ideal,  a  knight 
without  fear  and  without  reproach;  and  always  he 
sought  the  deed  that  was  most  valorous  and  the 
duty  that  was  most  severe,  hoping  that  his  steps 
might  be  directed  again  to  the  Temple  of  the  Grail. 

One  night  he  heard  the  bleating  of  a  lamb  that 
had  lost  its  way.  Parsifal  was  far  from  shelter, 
and  the  night  was  stormy,  yet  he  did  not  hesitate. 
He  turned  aside  and  sought  in  the  darkness  until 
he  had  found  the  little  wanderer,  then  he  wrapped 
it  in  his  cloak  and  carried  it  to  its  mother.  When 
he  again  sought  his  road  he  could  not  find  it  be- 
cause of  the  storm.  He  wandered  on,  and  pres- 
ently saw  that  he  was  in  the  midst  of  a  dense 
forest.  Somehow  even  in  the  night  it  seemed  fa- 
miliar to  him,  and  his  heart  gave  a  great  leap.  He 
felt  that  the  Holy  Grail  was  close  at  hand! 

Then  a  flash  of  lightning  disclosed  to  him  a  little 
cavern,  hollowed  out  of  a  rock,  and  he  entered  it 
for  shelter  during  the  night,  with  thankfulness. 

The  next  morning  the  sun  shone  bright  and 
warm,  gilding  the  wet  leaves  of  the  forest  with 
radiance.  Parsifal  followed  a  shining  beam  of  gold 
straight  through  the  forest — and  there  before  his 
feet  lay  the  lake  where  he  had  shot  the  swan  so 
long  ago.  On  the  hill  near  by  stood  the  Temple 
of  the  Grail. 


PARSIFAL  THE  PURE  115 

Parsifal  stuck  the  Spear  upright  in  the  soil  and 
knelt  in  prayer  and  rejoicing  that  his  long  pilgrim- 
age was  at  an  end ;  then  rose  and  took  his  steps  to- 
ward the  hill. 

"I  wonder  if  the  old  knight  of  the  gates  is  still 
alive,"  he  said  to  himself;  "I  should  dearly  like  to 
see  him  again." 

No  sooner  had  he  said  this,  than  he  saw  an  aged 
man  tottering  feebly  along,  and  lo!  it  was  the 
keeper  himself.  By  his  side  walked  a  woman  whom 
Parsifal  seemed  to  remember,  but  could  not  quite. 
It  was  Kundry  the  former  witch  of  the  flower-gar- 
den. After  this  garden  was  destroyed  she  had 
been  released  from  the  magician's  spell,  and  she 
was  now  carrying  water  and  doing  other  menial 
tasks  around  the  temple  in  the  hope  of  atoning  for 
her  past  wickednesses. 

When  the  keeper  saw  the  knight  in  splendid 
armour  standing  there  motionless,  he  greeted  him 
courteously  and  said, 

"Good-morrow,  Sir  Knight?  Do  you  come  seek- 
ing the  Temple  of  the  Grail?  Then  know  that 
you  are  even  now  on  consecrated  ground,  where 
it  is  forbidden  to  come  bearing  arms  or  with  helmet 
closed." 

For  answer  Parsifal  once  more  thrust  his  Spear 
into  the  earth,  and  laying  aside  his  helmet  knelt 
with  his  face  toward  the  temple.  Then  the  old 
knight  remembered  him. 


116  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

"It  is  the  youth  of  the  swan!"  he  exclaimed  to 
Kundry.  "And  see  what  he  has  brought  back  with 
him!  The  sacred  Spear!  O  happy  day  on  which 
the  Spear  comes  home!" 

Then  Parsifal  rose  to  his  feet,  and  seeing  love 
and  joy  in  the  old  man's  face  he  opened  his  arms 
and  the  two  embraced  right  gladly. 

"All  hail  to  thee,  good  friend!"  cried  Parsifal. 
"Long  did  I  fear  that  I  should  never  see  thy  face 
again." 

"Dost  thou  remember  me?"  asked  the  keeper. 
"Long  years  have  passed  and  much  grief  has  bent 
my  back,  since  the  day  I  let  thee  go  forth  as  guile- 
less and  crack-brained." 

"As  indeed  I  was,"  answered  Parsifal,  "but 
through  failures  and  hardships  and  many  trials  the 
guileless  one  has  been  at  last  enlightened,  even  as 
they  sang  in  that  strange  sweet  song  of  the  temple. 

"But  tell  me,"  the  young  man  continued,  "is 
there  not  something  changed  about  this  holy  place? 
Oft  have  I  heard  about  it  in  my  wanderings.  Men 
told  me  that  Mount  Salvat  was  the  abode  of  de- 
light; that  here  the  birds  sang,  the  knights  went 
hither  and  thither  with  joy  upon  their  faces,  and 
the  very  air  was  filled  with  the  spring-time  of  glad- 
ness. Is  it  not  so;  or  is  this  only  an  idle  dream?" 

"It  was  so,"  answered  the  old  man  sadly,  "but 
dark  days  have  come  upon  Mount  Salvat.  For 


PARSIFAL  THE  PURE  117 

pain  of  his  wound,  Amfortas  has  ceased  entirely  to 
serve  the  sacrament  from  the  sacred  Cup,  and 
therefore  are  all  the  knights  sad  in  their  hearts. 
They  have  betaken  themselves  to  cells  like  monks. 
The  aged  Titurel  has  died  because  he  could  no 
longer  behold  the  Grail;  and  I  am  only  living  on  in 
penance  waiting  till  I  can  join  him." 

"Nay,  but  all  these  things  must  not  be!"  said 
Parsifal.  "Dost  thou  remember  telling  me,  long 
ago,  that  the  sacred  Spear — this  Spear! — would 
heal  Amfortas  of  his  wound?  I  set  forth  to  seek 
it  that  very  day.  Come,  let  us  take  it  into  his  pres- 
ence!" 

"Pray  God  the  oracle  may  come  true!"  exclaimed 
the  keeper  joyfully.  "And  thou  dost  come  at  a 
good  season,  for  it  is  the  Good  Friday  service  to- 
day, and  Amfortas  has  promised  to  uncover  the 
Holy  Grail  once  again,  be  the  cost  what  it  may. 
But  before  we  go  up,  thou  must  rest  and  be  cleansed 
at  this  spring;  and  I  will  procure  a  white  robe  for 
thee." 

So  Parsifal  laved  his  face  and  his  hands  at  the 
spring,  while  the  old  man  went  in  haste  for  the 
white  robe.  And  while  he  sat  there,  the  woman 
came  up  timidly  and  knelt  down  and  unfastened  his 
sandals  and  washed  his  feet.  Then  Parsifal 
looked  down  and  remembered  her. 

"Thou  art  Kundry,"  he  said;  "thou  hast  come  a 


118  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

long  hard  way,  even  as  I  have  come."  He 
sprinkled  her  brow  with  a  few  drops  of  water  from 
the  spring.  "I  baptise  thee  into  a  new  life,"  he 
said ;  "come  with  us  this  day  to  the  temple." 

The  tears  rained  down  glad  Kundry's  face;  and 
as  she  knelt  there,  it  was  transformed  again  into  the 
loveliness  of  the  maiden  of  the  flower-garden,  but 
purer,  sweeter,  and  of  a  radiance  not  of  earth. 
She  was  redeemed! 

Just  then  the  soft  chimes  of  the  temple  bells 
rang  forth  bidding  them  come  to  the  service.  The 
keeper  returned  with  the  garment  which  he  put 
upon  Parsifal  and  the  three  went  up  the  path  to 
the  gates,  Parsifal  in  the  centre,  bearing  the  sacred 
Spear. 

They  had  no  sooner  entered  than  the  procession 
of  knights  filed  by,  preceded  by  the  choir-boys  who 
sang  of  the  Holy  Grail.  Last  of  all  came  Am- 
fortas,  slowly  and  as  if  in  great  pain.  He  paused 
before  the  shrine  and  made  as  if  to  open  it,  while 
all  the  knights  gathered  about  in  reverent  waiting. 

Suddenly  he  paused,  clasped  his  hands  to  his 
side  and  cried  out : 

"No!  no!  I  cannot  do  it!  Death  is  so  near  me, 
only  let  me  die!  slay  me  with  your  swords  and 
choose  another  Guardian  of  the  Grail!  I  cannot 
bear  to  unveil  the  Holy  Cup!  Kill  me,  kill  me,  I 
pray  you!" 


PARSIFAL  THE  PURE  119 

His  brow  was  wet  with  agony  and  he  writhed 
with  pain  so  that  the  knights  drew  back  from  him 
in  terror. 

Just  then  Parsifal  drew  near  in  his  flowing  white 
robe  bearing  the  Spear  aloft. 

"Peace,  O  Amfortas!"  he  said  quietly.  "Only 
one  weapon  will  ease  thee  of  that  pain:  it  is  the 
one  that  caused  it." 

And  with  the  sacred  Spear  he  touched  the 
wound,  and  lo!  it  was  healed  in  an  instant,  and 
Amfortas'  agony  was  changed  to  rapture  as  he 
knelt  before  the  altar. 

"Thou  art  forgiven,"  Parsifal's  voice  went  on; 
"forgiven  to  continue  in  thy  service  of  the  Grail. 
But  nevermore  shalt  thou  be  its  Guardian.  The 
words  of  the  oracle  have  come  true. 

"  'By  pity  enlightened, 
My  guileless  one, — 
Wait  thou  for  him 
Till  my  will  is  done !'  " 

Then  Parsifal  went  reverently  to  the  shrine  and 
uncovered  it,  while  all  the  knights  fell  on  their 
knees  and  prayed,  and  the  ransomed  Kundry  fell 
prostrate  and  bathed  the  altar  steps  with  her  happy 
tears.  He  drew  forth  the  Holy  Grail  and  held 
it  aloft,  and  instantly  a  ray  of  dazzling  light  fell 
from  above  and  struck  within  the  Cup,  so  that  it 
glowed  with  glory  which  flooded  all  the  temple. 


120  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

And  down  from  the  lofty  dome  fluttered  a  pure 
white  dove  which  hovered  lightly  over  his  head. 
The  knights  saw  and  understood  the  sign;  a  new 
Guardian  of  the  Grail  was  come  to  them.  The 
temple  had  awakened  to  a  higher  service  through 
the  stainless  life  of  Parsifal. 

Let  us  leave  them  there,  in  that  holy  service  be- 
fore Easter,  while  the  music  rose  and  swelled  tri- 
umphant, telling  of  victory  over  sin  and  death! 


Lohengrin  the  Swan  Knight 

(Lohengrin) 

'  'TT  EAR  ye!  hear  ye!  The  King  has  come 
to  Antwerp!  Who  fights  upon  the 
King's  side?" 

The  silvery  blast  of  a  trumpet  rang  out,  follow- 
ing the  clear  tones  of  a  herald's  voice;  and  in  an- 
swer a  great  shout  arose  from  a  multitude  of 
throats,  for  all  the  people  in  this  wide  stretching 
plain  were  eager  to  follow  the  standard  of  their 
warlike  ruler. 

It  was  in  the  days  not  long  after  Parsifal  had 
come  to  the  Temple  of  the  Grail.  The  kingdom 
of  Germany,  so  long  a  prey  to  warring  states,  had 
found  a  strong  head  in  Henry  the  Fowler  who  pro- 
tected the  land  from  foes  within  and  without.  In 
times  of  peace  it  was  his  custom  to  travel  from  city 
to  city  holding  court  and  listening  to  the  grievance 
of  every  one,  great  or  small.  In  war  time,  he 
levied  troops  and  led  them  in  person.  His  visit  to 
Antwerp,  on  this  occasion,  was  for  both  purposes, 
as  the  Hungarians  had  lately  declared  war  against 
him  and  were  threatening  to  invade  Germany. 

Antwerp  was  capital  of  the  ancient  dukedom  of 


121 


122  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

Brabant,  and  one  of  King  Henry's  chief  cities. 
On  his  coming,  therefore,  he  was  greatly  troubled 
to  find  the  state  rent  with  quarrels  and  secret  dis- 
content. 

The  King  held  his  court  in  the  open  air,  under 
the  spreading  branches  of  a  stately  tree,  called  the 
"Oak  of  Justice,"  which  stood  on  the  bank  of  the 
winding  river  Scheldt.  Here  all  the  people  gath- 
ered to  pay  him  homage,  and  here — on  the  bright 
spring  morning  when  our  story  opens — he  caused 
the  herald  in  brilliant  livery  to  stand  forth  and  blow 
upon  a  trumpet. 

"Hear  ye!"  cried  the  herald  again.  "The  King 
has  come!  Who  fights  for  the  King?" 

Then  all  the  people  answered  as  with  one  voice, 
and  came  and  knelt  before  the  throne  in  token  of 
allegiance. 

The  King's  eye  gladdened  at  the  sight. 
"Verily,"  he  said,  "with  such  stout  arms  and  loving 
hearts  as  these,  we  will  drive  the  enemy  into  the 
sea!" 

After  he  had  greeted  many  by  name,  and  many 
others  had  been  presented  to  him,  he  saw  one  noble 
who  had  fought  with  him  against  the  Danes. 

"Come  hither,  Frederick  of  Telramund,"  he 
commanded.  "As  an  oft-tried  friend,  I  have  a 
question  to  ask  of  you.  How  is  it  that  Brabant  has 
no  head,  but  is  rent  with  inner  quarrels?" 


LOHENGRIN  THE  SWAN  KNIGHT    123 

Frederick  of  Telramund  stepped  forward  and 
bowed  low.  He  was  a  tall  man,  with  beetling 
brows  and  deep,  piercing  eyes. 

"I  am  thankful,  my  King,"  he  began  in  a  heavy 
voice  and  with  ill-concealed  excitement,  "that  you 
have  seen  our  troubles  and  will  lend  ear  to  the  story 
of  them.  I  will  tell  you  the  truth.  The  former 
Duke  of  Brabant  was  my  friend,  and  when  he  died 
he  chose  me  as  guardian  for  his  children,  Godfrey 
and  Elsa.  I  brought  them  up  as  carefully  as 
though  they  were  my  own,  and  looked  forward 
fondly  to  the  time  when  Godfrey  should  be  duke; 
also — shall  I  confess  it? — when  I  might  win  Elsa 
for  my  wife.  But  all  these  hopes  were  destined  to 
fail.  Elsa  was  a  proud  girl,  and  I  fear  now  that 
she  coveted  the  dukedom  for  herself,  though  she 
pretended  to  have  great  love  for  her  brother. 

"One  day  they  went  roaming  in  the  woods  and 
by  the  river's  brink,  as  they  often  did.  When  night 
came,  Elsa  returned  without  her  brother.  She  was 
pale  and  trembling,  and  when  we  asked  her  where 
he  had  gone,  she  would  only  reply  by  wringing  her 
hands  and  sobbing.  That  is  all  the  answer  we  have 
got  from  her,  from  that  day  to  this,  and  we  cannot 
help  fearing  that  she  drowned  him,  or  laid  other 
violent  hands  upon  him. 

"Of  course,  after  this  happening,  I  could  no 
longer  choose  her  hand  in  marriage.  But  I  chose 


124  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

instead  a  lady  whom  I  now  wish  to  present  to  you 
— Ortrud,  daughter  of  the  brave  King  Radbod. 
In  former  times  he  was  king  over  all  this  land ;  and 
in  my  wife's  name  I  lay  claim  to  Brabant." 

As  he  finished  speaking,  Frederick  took  his  wife 
by  the  hand  and  led  her  forward.  She  was  a  very 
handsome  woman,  though  almost  of  masculine  type, 
and  her  eye  had  a  watchful  look  like  that  of  a 
crouching  tigress.  She  bent  her  head  with  the 
grace  of  a  queen. 

The  King  knitted  his  brow  at  the  story,  and 
looked  about  as  though  seeking  some  one  else  whom 
he  might  question.  Seeing  his  doubt,  Frederick 
resolved  upon  a  bold  stroke.  Turning  he  ad- 
dressed the  people  in  a  loud  voice,  saying: 

"I  accuse  Elsa  of  Brabant  of  the  murder  of  her 
brother.  If  there  be  any  here  who  can  deny  my 
charge,  I  challenge  him  to  come  forth  I" 

No  one  moved,  although  there  were  mutterings 
here  and  there  and  sullen  shakings  of  the  head. 

The  King  rose  suddenly  and  hung  his  shield  upon 
a  limb  of  the  tree. 

"This  is  the  Oak  of  Justice !"  he  said,  "and  I  prom- 
ise ye  that  I  will  not  depart  from  its  shade  this  day, 
until  I  have  made  trial  of  this  charge. 

"This  shield  no  longer  shall  I  wear 
Till  judgment  is  pronounced,  I  swear." 


LOHENGRIN  THE  SWAN  KNIGHT    125 

At  a  signal,  the  herald  came  forward  again  and 
announced,  "Now  shall  this  cause  be  tried  as  an- 
cient law  demands!"  Then  he  blew  a  loud  blast 
upon  his  trumpet  and  called  upon  Elsa  of  Brabant 
to  come  before  her  King  for  judgment. 

The  people  had  received  the  announcement,  that 
the  King  would  try  the  cause,  with  breathless  eag- 
erness. Now  they  parted  to  right  and  left  and 
looked  intently  along  the  path  Elsa  was  expected 
to  come.  They  were  not  disappointed.  After  a 
few  moments  a  train  of  ladies  appeared  walking 
slowly,  two  by  two,  toward  the  Oak  of  Justice. 
Among  them  was  one  dressed  in  pure  white.  Her 
head  was  uncovered,  and  her  golden  hair  fell  in  soft 
curls  about  her  shoulders.  Her  blue  eyes  had  a 
far-away  look  in  them,  and  her  pale  face  was 
marked  by  lines  that  told  of  suffering.  The  lady 
Ortrud  looked  balefully  at  her  as  she  came  forward, 
but  the  people  drew  nearer  to  the  maiden  with 
marks  of  pity  that  showed  their  old  love  for  her. 

The  King  himself  was  struck  by  this  fair  vision. 
The  set  look  came  out  of  his  eyes,  and  he  leaned 
forward  and  gently  took  her  by  the  hand. 

"  Are  you  Elsa  of  Brabant?"  he  asked. 

The  young  girl  bowed  and  wrung  her  hands  in 
silence. 

"You  are  accused  of  the  murder  of  your  brother," 
continued  the  King.  "What  have  you  to  say?" 


126  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

"Oh,  my  poor  brother!"  cried  Elsa;  and  not  an- 
other word  would  she  answer  to  the  charge. 

"Speak!"  said  the  King.  "Do  you  not  know 
that  I  must  adjudge  you  guilty  unless  you  confide 
in  me?" 

Elsa  looked  up  at  the  King  and  seemed  to  gain 
courage.  The  people  gazed  on  the  scene  with  still- 
ness as  of  death.  Elsa's  voice  was  low  but  clear, 
and  its  tones  were  distinctly  heard. 

"When  I  have  been  in  deep  trouble,"  she  said, 
"I  have  prayed  to  Heaven  for  help.  It  has  been 
many  times  of  late— O,  many,  many  times!  At 
last  I  was  answered.  I  have  had  a  dream,  and  it 
is  such  a  beautiful  dream  that  I  know  it  must  come 
true.  A  knight  in  glittering  armour  appeared  in 
a  vision  and  promised  to  be  my  champion  whenever 
I  should  call  upon  him.  O  King,  I  claim  him  for 
my  champion  to-day!  He  will  prove  my  inno- 
cence !" 

\  * 

Her  words  answered  nothing  and  proved  noth- 
ing; yet  such  was  her  manner  that  the  people  be- 
lieved in  her  and  shouted  aloud  that  she  was  guilt- 
less. The  King  himself  seemed  to  seek  a  pretext  to 
let  her  go  free;  but  Frederick  of  Telramund 
stepped  boldly  forward. 

"A  likely  story  this,  your  Majesty!"  he  sneered. 
"Dream  knights  never  yet  have  done  anything; 
and  if  the  Lady  Elsa  can  but  find  her  champion 


LOHENGRIN  THE  SWAN  KNIGHT     127 

upon  earth,  here  I  stand  ready  to  fight  him  to  de- 
cide this  cause." 

The  King  looked  at  the  maiden  anxiously,  and 
her  face  lit  up  at  once. 

"I  agree  to  these  terms,"  she  said. 

Upon  this  the  King  gave  orders  that  lists,  or 
open  spaces,  should  be  cleared;  and  then  he  an- 
nounced that,  following  ancient  custom,  they  would 
rest  the  issue  of  Elsa's  guilt  or  innocence  upon 
single  combat  between  champions.  The  herald 
once  again  came  forward  and  blew  a  long  blast 
upon  his  trumpet,  and  proclaimed, 

"Let  him  stand  forth  by  Hea/en's  right 
Who  would  for  Elsa's  just  cause  fight!" 

There  was  a  painful  silence,  while  Frederick  and 
Ortrud  looked  in  smiling  disdain  upon  the  poor 
girl. 

"O  my  King!"  she  cried.  "Summon  him  again! 
His  home  is  far  away  and  he  may  not  have  heard." 

"Sound  once  again!"  commanded  the  King,  and 
again  the  trumpet  call  rang  out. 

Again  there  was  intense  silence.  Elsa  dropped 
upon  her  knees  andL  prayed  until  it  seemed  as 
though  her  very  soul  would  burst  with  emotion. 
Suddenly  a  man  nearest  the  bank  of  the  river 
startled  the  silence  with  a  cry. 

"A  swan!  a  swan!  And  in  its  wake  a  boat  bear- 
ing a  knight!" 


128  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

Every  eye  turned  and  gazed  up  the  winding 
stream,  and  there,  sure  enough,  was  a  beautiful 
white  bird  swimming  easily  and  gracefully  along 
and  drawing  a  little  boat  with  a  knight  in  it. 

"A  miracle!  a  miracle!"  shouted  the  people. 

As  he  drew  near,  they  saw  that  the  knight  was 
clad  in  silver  armour  which  shone  dazzling  white 
in  the  sun.  Amid  a  general  hush,  the  swan  drew 
the  boat  to  the  shore,  and  the  knight  stepped  out. 
Before  greeting  the  King  or  court,  he  dismissed  the 
swan  in  a  tender  little  song  of  farewell: 

"I  give  thee  thanks,  my  faithful  swan, 
Turn  thee  again  and  stem  the  tide; 
Go  back  to  that  blest  land  of  dawn 
Where  thou  and  I  did  once  abide. 
Full  well  thy  loving  task  is  done, 
Farewell,  farewell,  beloved  swan! 
My  faithful  swan!" 

Then  while  the  swan  bent  its  head  in  sad  obedi- 
ence and  sailed  away  on  the  current,  the  knight 
turned  to  the  King. 

"Hail,  O  King!"  he  said  courteously.  "I  have 
come  in  answer  to  your  summons  to  do  battle  in 
Elsa's  cause." 

"You  are  right  welcome,  noble  knight,  from 
wheresoever  you  come,"  answered  the  King.  Then 
turning  to  Elsa,  he  continued,  "Do  you  accept  this 
knight  to  be  your  champion?" 


He  was  compelled  to  yield 


LOHENGRIN  THE  SWAN  KNIGHT    129 

'Tis  the  knight  of  my  dream!"  she  murmured, 
sinking  at  his  feet. 

The  King  struck  his  shield  three  times  with  his 
sword. 

"Sound  the  call  to  combat!"  he  commanded. 

The  call  was  given,  and  Frederick  of  Telramund 
took  his  place  sullenly  in  the  lists.  He  liked  not 
the  turn  affairs  were  taking,  but  his  word  was  given 
and  could  not  be  withdrawn. 

The  stranger  knight  lifted  Elsa  gently  to  her 
feet,  then  prepared  to  face  his  enemy.  Another 
stroke  upon  the  King's  shield,  and  the  two  antag- 
onists had  crossed  blades  with  a  sharp  crash. 

But  not  long  did  they  fight.  Frederick  was 
clearly  outclassed  from  the  first;  and  after  a  few 
wild,  furious  blows,  which  the  other  lightly  par- 
ried, his  sword  was  sent  flying  from  his  hand,  and 
he  was  compelled  to  yield  to  the  mercy  of  his  con- 
queror. 

The  Knight  of  the  Swan  refused  to  take  his  life ; 
but  according  to  the  law  the  defeated  man  was  ac- 
counted a  perjurer  and  doomed  to  exile.  With 
downcast  head  he  slunk  away,  followed  by  the 
proud  Ortrud,  who  glared  about  defiantly  to  the 
last. 

But  the  victorious  knight  now  heeded  them  not. 
He  had  turned  to  where  Elsa  stood,  and  held  out 
his  hands  in  the  old  gesture  which  every  maiden 
K 


130  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

must  one  day  understand.  With  a  glad  cry  she 
ran  and  nestled  in  his  arms. 

"My  hero  1"  she  whispered. 

Then  the  knight  turned  proudly  toward  the 
King,  and  said  in  the  hearing  of  all : 

"I  would  have  the  Lady  Elsa  as  my  wife." 

"You  have  my  consent  with  hers,"  replied  King 
Henry,  heartily.  "And  with  her  hand  goes  the 
dukedom  of  Brabant." 

At  this  all  the  people  shouted  and  threw  their 
caps  high  in  the  air;  for  the  new  duke  presented  a 
handsome  figure,  while  they  had  never  liked  the 
usurping  Frederick. 

"Only  one  promise  must  I  exact  from  the  fair 
Elsa,"  continued  the  champion.  "If  she  cannot 
give  it,  I  must  release  her  from  her  silent  pledge." 

"What  is  that?"  asked  the  King. 

"She  must  never  ask  me  my  name,  or  whence  I 
come.  That  I  am  well  born  and  worthy  of  her 
she  can  decide  for  herself.  But  no  question  must 
be  asked  as  to  my  past  life.  Can  you  promise  this, 
my  Elsa?" 

He  looked  down  anxiously  at  her,  and  she  met 
his  gaze  frankly  and  trustingly. 

"I  promise — my  husband!"  she  answered  in  low, 
sweet  tones. 

The  Knight  of  the  Swan  kissed  her  upon  the 
brow,  while  the  King  himself  came  forward  and 
took  each  by  the  hand. 


LOHENGRIN  THE  SWAN  KNIGHT    131 

"I  shall  take  this  maiden  in  my  charge,"  said 
Henry  the  Fowler,  "and  remain  in  Antwerp  long 
enough  to  bestow  her  in  marriage  upon  this  man. 
Come,  let  us  to  the  place  and  prepare  for  the  ring- 
ing of  the  joy  bells!" 

Then  once  again  the  people  shouted  with  de- 
light, and  came  crowding  up  to  share  in  the  scene. 
The  King's  shield  was  seized  from  the  limb  where  it 
hung,  and  Elsa  was  placed  upon  it  and  borne  forth 
in  triumph,  while  the  Swan  Knight  was  likewise 
carried  upon  his  own  shield. 

To  have  heard  the  noise  and  rejoicing  you  would 
have  thought  that  there  was  no  one  in  all  Brabant 
who  did  not  share  in  the  general  happiness.  But 
there  were  two  who  found  it  gall  and  wormwood, 
and  these  two  were  Frederick  and  Ortrud.  De- 
prived of  their  wealth  and  power,  and  in  danger 
of  their  lives,  they  suffered  a  just  punishment  for 
their  wickedness.  Frederick  was  for  leaving  Bra- 
bant at  once,  and  seeking  their  fortunes  in  other 
countries.  But  Ortrud,  whose  spirit  remained  un- 
broken, would  not  hear  of  this.  All  along  she  had 
been  his  evil  counsellor,  and  now  she  set  going  other 
schemes  of  mischief. 

The  two  stole  forth  at  nightfall,  clothed  in  beg- 
gar's tattered  garments,  and  made  their  way  to  the 
palace  steps,  where  they  listened  to  the  sounds  of 
rejoicing  within  the  palace. 


132  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

"Ah !  I  should  still  be  there,  if  I  had  not  listened 
to  you,"  groaned  Frederick,  who  was  a  man  .of  poor 
courage. 

"Cease  your  complaining!"  answered  Ortrud. 
"We  will  win  the  victory  yet,  and  you  shall  be  in 
power  again,  if  you  listen  to  me  now." 

"What  can  we  do?" 

"Have  you  not  heard  of  the  promise  made  by 
Elsa  to  this  Swan  Knight?  He  is  a  magician,  I 
warrant  you,  and  all  we  need  do  is  to  prove  it.  She 
has  promised  never  to  ask  his  name.  Now  if  we 
can  get  her  to  break  that  promise,  he  will  vanish — 
mark  my  words!" 

Frederick  sat  up  and  looked  around  eagerly. 

"Ortrud,  you  are  a  genius!"  he  said.  "But  how 
can  we  do  this?  We  are  beggared  and  exiled." 

"Trust  me — but  hush!  I  hear  some  one  on  the 
balcony!" 

It  was  Elsa  herself,  who  came  out  for  a  moment 
to  look  at  the  stars  and  commune  with  her  own 
great  happiness.  At  sight  of  the  girl's  face  in  the 
glow  of  the  window,  Ortrud  crept  softly  round  the 
balustrade  and  suddenly  appeared  before  her 
startled  gaze. 

"Pardon — pardon!"  cried  the  crafty  woman  in 
a  low  tone,  and  sinking  on  the  step  at  Elsa's  feet. 

"Who  are  you?"  demanded  Elsa. 

"I  am  an  outcast.  Out  of  your  great  happiness 
pity  my  deep  misery!" 


LOHENGRIN  THE  SWAN  KNIGHT     133 

"It  is  Ortrud!"  exclaimed  the  girl,  her  heart 
made  tender  by  her  own  love.  "Poor  woman,  I  did 
not  seek  to  harm  you.  Your  husband  brought  it 
on  himself." 

"I  had  naught  to  say,"  coaxed  the  kneeling 
woman.  "And  now  you  would  not  send  me  forth 
from  your  door,  to  wander  into  the  wide  world  a 
beggar!" 

"No!"  exclaimed  the  generous  Elsa,  "I  will 
shelter  and  protect  you.  Come  with  me!" 

She  turned  to  order  lights  from  two  servants  at 
the  door;  and  Ortrud  shot  a  quick  glance  of  cun- 
ning triumph  at  her  hidden  husband,  before  enter- 
ing the  palace. 

All  that  night  Frederick  lurked  amid  the 
shadows  of  the  neighbouring  cathedral  and  waited. 
He  knew  that  their  wicked  schemes  were  in  safe 
hands,  with  Ortrud  on  the  inside;  and  although 
only  a  few  short  hours  remained  he  took  heart  of 
hope. 

The  wedding  had  been  set  for  early  the  next 
morning,  so  that  Henry  the  Fowler  could  go  to  the 
wars. 

Hardly  had  the  sun  struck  the  lowest  range  of 
windows  on  the  building,  before  an  army  of  serv- 
ants appeared,  as  if  by  magic,  and  began  decorat- 
ing walls,  porticos,  and  pillars  with  streamers  and 


134  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

flowers.  When  the  sunlight  had  penetrated  every 
corner  of  the  court  a  herald  came  out  and  announced 
the  approaching  wedding.  The  King's  business 
demanded  haste  and  so  there  had  been  no  delay. 
The  herald  further  announced  that  the  stranger 
knight  would  accept  the  dukedom,  but  would  be 
styled  simply  the  Protector  of  Brabant;  and  that 
he  was  to  go  with  the  King's  troops  and  lead  the 
men  into  battle  against  the  Hungarians. 

The  herald  had  scarcely  ceased  ere  four  pages 
appeared  on  the  palace  steps  crying,  "Make  way 
for  the  Lady  Elsa!" 

Again  the  ladies-in-waiting  came  forth,  clad  in 
white,  and  behind  them  came  Elsa  looking  very 
lovely  in  her  bridal  robes  and  attended  by  her 
friends  and  some  of  the  noblest  ladies  of  the  state. 
Near  her  walked  Ortrud  whom  Elsa  wished  to  hon- 
our, and  who  was  attired  in  rich  and  costly  robes. 

Slowly  the  wedding  party  filed  across  the  palace 
courtyard  to  the  wide-open  doors  of  the  great 
cathedral.  The  maids  arrayed  themselves  on  either 
side  to  let  their  mistress  pass;  but  just  as  Elsa 
reached  the  portal,  Ortrud  suddenly  rushed  in  front 
of  her  exclaiming, 

"No!  you  shall  not  enter  first!  I  am  higher 
born  than  you,  and  must  take  the  lead !" 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Elsa,  starting  back. 

"I  mean  that  your  nameless  knight  won  his  vie- 


LOHENGRIN  THE  SWAN  KNIGHT    135 

tory  yesterday  by  fraud,  and  that  I  am  still  the 
rightful  duchess  of  Brabant." 

Elsa  flushed  red  and  answered  her  proudly,  "A 
fitting  return  is  this  for  my  late  kindness  to  you! 
And  as  to  the  victory  it  was  won  fairly  in  sight  of 
all  the  people.  Stand  aside,  rash  woman,  and  let 
me  pass!" 

Ortrud  stood  unmoved.  "You  would  wed  a 
pretty  champion!"  she  sneered.  "Why,  you  do  not 
know  his  name !  And  as  for  knowing  his  origin  or 
character — forsooth!"  (Here  she  snapped  her  fin- 
gers.) "I  tell  you  he  is  a  magician,  and  won  his 
fight  with  my  husband  by  powers  of  evil!" 

"It  is  false!"  cried  Elsa  wildly.  ".You  are  a 
slanderous " 

"The  King!  the  King!"  shouted  the  attendants 
at  this  moment.  "Make  way  for  the  King!" 

The  quarrel  at  the  doorway  ceased  as  the  King 
approached  followed  by  his  knights.  At  his  right 
hand  came  the  Knight  of  the  Swan,  who  seeing  the 
commotion  stepped  quickly  forward  to  Elsa's  side. 

"What  is  the  trouble,  beloved?"  he  asked  quietly. 

"This  dreadful  woman!"  exclaimed  the  girl, 
pointing  to  Ortrud.  "She  will  not  let  me  pass,  and 
she  has  been  saying  wicked  things  about  you." 

The  knight  gave  Ortrud  one  stern  look  before 
which  even  her  vengeful  spirit  quailed. 

"Stand  aside!"  he  commanded  in  a  low  voice. 


136  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

"What  is  wrong?"  demanded  the  voice  of  the 
King,  who  had  come  up  with  the  group. 

"Nothing  now,  your  Majesty.  We  will  go  for- 
ward," answered  the  Swan  Knight,  taking  his 
trembling  bride  upon  his  arm  and  mounting  the 
cathedral  steps. 

But  at  the  threshold  they  met  another  inter- 
ference. Frederick  of  Telramund,  who  had  been 
lurking  about  watching  all  that  happened,  sud- 
denly stepped  from  behind  the  door  shouting, 

"Stay  a  moment,  Elsa  of  Brabant.  You  are 
being  deceived,  foolish  girl!  You  do  not  know 
whom  you  are  marrying.  He  is  a  sorcerer,  and 
overcame  me  by  magic  1" 

Elsa  was  like  to  swoon  away  at  this  unlooked-for 
happening.  But  the  stranger  knight  whispered 
tenderly  to  her  and  reassured  her. 

The  King,  on  his  part,  was  thoroughly  aroused 
by  the  second  interruption. 

"Begone,  sirrah!"  he  exclaimed.  "The  fight  was 
fair  and  the  champion  sent  of  Heaven.  Come  not 
into  our  presence  again  on  peril  of  your  life!" 

Without  further  hindrance  the  wedding  party 
entered  the  church;  and  while  the  great  organ 
pealed  its  strains  of  joyful  music  the  knight  and 
his  lady  were  blessed  and  pronounced  man  and 
wife. 

All  that  day  the  festivities  lasted.     The  King 


LOHENGRIN  THE  SWAN  KNIGHT     137 

had  commanded  that  a  feast  be  spread  for  every 
man,  woman  and  child  in  the  city.  The  new  Pro- 
tector of  Brabant  was  publicly  acclaimed  in  the  aft- 
ernoon; while,  that  evening,  a  state  banquet  was 
held  in  the  palace. 

Then  following  an  old  custom  the  maidens  went 
ahead  of  the  newly  wedded  couple  to  conduct  them 
to  the  bridal-chamber.  And  as  they  entered  its 
door  they  sang  a  beautiful  refrain  that  has  greeted 
the  ears  of  countless  brides  from  that  to  this: 

"Fairest  and  best 
Weleadtheeon!" 

There  the  maidens  left  them  and  went  away 
singing  as  they  had  come.  When  the  last  sweet 
note  had  died  away,  the  knight  took  his  wife's  two 
hands  tenderly  within  his  own. 

"Elsa,"  he  murmured,  "do  you  indeed  love  me; 
or  have  you  wed  me  only  from  a  sense  of  duty?" 

"I  have  loved  you  ever  since  I  beheld  you  in  my 
dreams,"  she  answered.  "But  how  came  you  to 
seek  me  out?" 

"I  am  indeed  Heaven-sent,  as  I  told  you.  But 
without  your  peril,  I  think  that  Love  would  have 
guided  me  to  you.  For  I  love  you  dearly,  Elsa!" 

"Ah,  how  sweet  my  name  sounds  upon  your 
lips!"  she  cried  softly.  "If  I  could  but  utter  your 
own,  my  happiness  would  be  full." 


138  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

The  knight  gazed  at  her  in  silence  a  moment, 
then  led  her  to  an  open  casement. 

"Breathe  all  the  fragrance  of  eventide,"  he  said. 
"Do  you  not  distinguish  many  sweet  odours  beside 
the  dew-laden  roses  near  you?  The  breeze  comes 
soft  across  the  meadow  and  sea,  bringing  strange 
memories  and  hints  of  foreign  shores.  Is  it  not 
all  the  more  delightful  because  we  cannot  pene- 
trate all  these  mysteries?  Love  itself  is  the  great- 
est mystery  of  all.  Let  us  love  then  and  be  happy 
in  each  succeeding  day;  for  when  they  are  past  we 
cannot  recall  them.  We  can  only  remember,  but 
the  mystery  is  gone  I" 

"Yes,  let  us  love  and  be  happy,"  she  answered 
doubtfully.  "But,  O  my  husband,  what  shall  I 
say  when  evil  remarks  are  made,  as  like  those  by 
that  wicked  woman  to-day?" 

"Still  thinking  of  her?"  he  replied  with  an  at- 
tempt at  lightness.  "She  will  not  annoy  you  again. 
For  the  rest,  can  you  not  trust  me?" 

"Can  you  not  trust  me?"  she  insisted.  "Am  I 
not  your  wife  and  worthy  of  some  degree  of  con- 
fidence?" 

"Elsa,  once  for  all,  this  must  not  be !  You  have 
given  your  word  to  respect  my  secret.  I  assure 
you  it  is  not  a  dark  secret,  and  that  I  may  look 
you  frankly  and  joyfully  in  the  face,  as  my  wife. 
Isn't  that  enough?" 


LOHENGRIN  THE  SWAN  KNIGHT     139 

"But  Frederick  and  Ortrud?  What  do  they 
know  about  you?  Why  did  they — oh,  I  cannot 
get  their  words  out  of  my  mind  I" 

Elsa  was  in  fact  growing  hysterical.  She  clung 
to  him  wildly  as  they  stood  in  the  window.  Poor 
girl!  her  recent  trials  had  left  her  an  easy  prey  to 
the  insidious  attack  of  this  day. 

The  knight  was  very  patient  with  her.  He 
realised  her  unstrung  condition,  and  tried  to  divert 
her  mind  by  placing  her  gently  in  a  chair  where 
she  could  look  out  upon  the  river. 

"See  how  white  the  waters  gleam  in  the  moon- 
light!" he  said.  "The  river  seems  like  a  silver  rib- 
bon stretching  away." 

"And  look!"  she  cried,  pointing.  "There  comes 
the  swan-boat  to  take  you  from  me!  Ah,  do  not 
go!" 

"Calm  yourself,  dear  one!     There  is  no  boat." 

"Oh,  I  cannot  bear  this  mystery!  I  must  ques- 
tion you!" 

"Elsa!" 

"I  must,  I  must!    What  is  your  name?" 

"Alas,"  he  exclaimed.  "Beware  of  what  you 
say!  Not  another  word  I  implore  you!" 

"Whence  do  you  come?"  she  continued  wildly. 

At  this  moment  a  slight  noise  was  heard  at  the 
door,  and  Frederick  of  Telramund  burst  in.  He 
had  enlisted  the  services  of  four  of  his  former 


140  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

party,  resolved  to  make  one  last  bold  stroke  and 
kill  the  Knight  of  the  Swan.  But  again  he  was 
no  match  for  the  knight.  Alarmed  by  the  noise, 
the  latter  sprang  quickly  for  his  sword  and  met 
Frederick  midway  in  the  room.  A  few  swift 
strokes  and  that  evil  man  lay  dead  upon  the  floor. 
The  four  nobles  were  seized  with  fear  and  came  and 
knelt  before  the  knight  craving  pardon. 

"Bear  him  to  the  King,"  he  said  quietly,  pointing 
to  his  fallen  foe.  "An  audience  will  be  held  at 
early  sunrise  under  the  Oak  of  Justice." 

The  men  bowed  humbly  and  went  away  with 
their  burden. 

Elsa  had  well-nigh  fainted  from  the  excitement 
and  now  laid  her  head  sobbing  upon  the  knight's 
shoulder. 

"Forgive  me !"  she  cried.  "I  recall  my  thought- 
less words." 

For  answer  he  kissed  her  lingeringly  on  the 
brow  and  then  struck  a  gong  which  summoned  her 
attendants. 

"I  leave  the  Lady  Elsa  in  your  hands,"  he  said. 
"Array  her  as  befits  a  bride,  at  the  rising  of  the 
sun,  and  conduct  her  to  the  King.  There  I  will 
answer  all  she  asks." 

The  wondering  maids  hastened  to  Elsa's  side. 
She  held  out  her  hands  to  the  knight  beseechingly, 
but  he  passed  from  the  room  in  silence  with  bowed 
head. 


LOHENGRIN  THE  SWAN  KNIGHT     141 

The  next  morning  early  the  King  held  court 
again  beneath  the  Oak  of  Justice.  This  was  the  day 
he  was  to  start  for  the  wars,  and  many  knights  and 
soldiers  had  assembled  to  march  with  their  leader, 
the  new  Protector  of  Brabant.  Henry  had  just 
come,  and  was  answering  the  greetings  of  his  cap- 
tains, when  the  four  nobles  appeared  bearing  the 
body  of  Frederick  of  Telramund  upon  his  shield, 
and  followed  by  the  weeping  Ortrud. 

In  answer  to  the  King's  question  as  to  the  mean- 
ing of  this,  they,  replied  that  the  Knight  of  the 
Swan  would  soon  appear  and  explain  everything. 
They  had  hardly  finished  speaking  when  Elsa  and 
her  maids  came  in  view.  Elsa  was  attired  as  yes- 
terday, in  her  bridal  dress,  but  her  face  was  woebe- 
gone, her  hair  dishevelled  and  her  eyes  red  with 
weeping.  So  pitiable  was  her  appearance  that  the 
crowd  near  broke  into  exclamations  of  pity,  while 
the  King  rising  hastily  came  forward  and  led  her 
to  a  seat. 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  all  this?"  he  demanded. 
"By  Heaven,  I  wiU  know  the  truth!" 

"Your  Majesty,  the  Knight  of  the  Swan  will 
soon  appear  and  answer  all  questions,"  said  one 
of  the  maids. 

The  King  was  about  to  make  a  quick  remark, 
when  the  knight  himself  entered  the  throng.  The 
men  who  expected  to  follow  him  into  battle  greeted 


142  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

him  with  cheers,  but  he  made  no  response  beyond 
a  sad  smile  and  shake  of  the  head.  He  wore  the 
same  glittering  armour  of  his  first  appearance,  but 
his  head  was  slightly  bent  as  if  in  thought,  and  his 
steps  were  slow  and  reluctant. 

The  hot-blooded  King  could  no  longer  restrain 
himself. 

"I  would  know  the  meaning  of  these  things!"  he 
said,  scarcely  responding  to  the  Swan  Knight's 
silent  greeting.  He  pointed  to  the  body  of  Fred- 
erick. "Who  has  done  this  deed?" 

"I  slew  him  in  self-defence,"  answered  the 
knight.  Then  he  told  of  the  attack  within  his 
room,  and  took  the  four  nobles  to  witness  that  he 
told  the  truth.  "With  your  Majesty's  permission 
I  will  leave  the  verdict  to  all  the  people,"  he  ended. 

Thus  appealed  to,  the  people  cried  loudly  that 
he  was  innocent  of  wrong,  and  that  Heaven  had 
sent  him  to  rid  the  land  of  a  usurper  and  a  coward. 

"I  also  deem  that  you  have  done  justly,"  said 
the  King.  "But  what  means  the  sorrow  of  this 
lady  whom  I  took  under  my  especial  protection? 
Answer,  and  carefully!" 

"I  have  promised  the  Lady  Elsa  to  answer  her 
questions,  and  I  shall  likewise  answer  yours,"  re- 
plied the  knight,  courteously.  "The  fighting  men 
of  Brabant — stout  hearts  and  true — have  gathered 
here  to-day  expecting  that  I  shall  lead  them  to  the 


LOHENGRIN  THE  SWAN  KNIGHT     143 

wars.  This  cannot  be.  I  must  tell  my  story  and 
then  bid  farewell  to  all." 

A  general  murmur  of  dissent  arose  at  this,  but 
the  knight  stood  unmoved  waiting  for  silence. 
Presently  as  a  hush  fell,  he  began  to  speak  again, 
slowly  and  earnestly. 

"In  a  far-away  land,"  he  said,  "there  stands  a 
sacred  hill  called  Mount  Salvat.  Upon  this  hill 
rise  the  walls  and  towers  of  a  mystic  castle,  called 
the  Temple  of  the  Grail,  for  within  it  is  preserved 
the  most  precious  relic  in  all  the  world — the  Holy 
Grail.  The  knights  who  guard  this  shrine  are  a 
close  brotherhood  who  have  renounced  the  world 
and  given  their  lives  to  self-sacrifice  and  good  deeds. 
In  reward  for  this,  the  sacred  Cup  gives  them  power 
beyond  that  of  other  men.  They  may  journey 
into  distant  lands  to  help  the  weak  and  relieve  dis- 
tress, and  always  will  they  be  victorious.  But  if 
they  disclose  the  secret  of  their  power,  they  must 
return  to  Mount  Salvat. 

"Thus  was  I  sent  to  become  the  Lady  Elsa's 
champion ;  and  I  had  fondly  hoped  to  dwell  among 
you  and  be  worthy  of  her  love  and  trust.  But  now 
this  cannot  be.  Enemies  have  persuaded  her  that 
my  name  and  rank  must  be  revealed;  so  it  only  is 
left  for  me  to  tell  my  lineage.  I  am  not  ashamed 
of  this.  I  am  the  son  of  Parsifal,  chief  Guardian 
of  the  Grail.  My  name  is  Lohengrin." 


144  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

As  he  ceased  speaking,  amid  the  profound 
silence,  voices  were  heard  from  the  river's  bank. 

"The  swan!  the  swan!     See,  he  comes  again!" 

Elsa  threw  herself  upon  the  ground  in  an  agony 
of  grief. 

"Ah,  do  not  go  away!"  she  moaned,  clasping 
the  knight's  feet.  "Do  not  go  away  and  leave  me! 
I  shall  die!" 

Lohengrin  extended  his  finger  sadly  toward  the 
bend  in  the  stream,  where  the  swan  drew  the  boat 
majestically  forward. 

"  It  is  the  summons  of  Heaven,"  he  said.  "I 
have  no  other  choice.  Farewell,  beloved,  forever!" 

He  raised  her  and  she  clung  wildly  to  him  as 
though  she  could  not  let  him  go.  He  gently  re- 
sisted her. 

"See  1"  he  said.  "Here  is  my  sword  and  ring  and 
bugle,  which  will  bring  victory  in  every  battle- 
field. Keep  them  for  your  brother,  of  whom  I 
give  you  good  news.  He  is  alive  and  may  return 
in  safety  one  day.  I  had  hoped  to  bring  him  back 
to  you  within  the  year  if  I  had  been  permitted  to 
remain." 

"But  you  have  failed,  my  fine  hero!"  cried  a 
taunting  voice  which  made  them  all  turn  quickly. 
It  was  Ortrud  who  had  come  forward  for  one  last 
bitter  triumph.  "You  have  failed,  so  you  and  your 
poor  pretty  little  bride  may  hear  the  truth.  It  was  I 


LOHENGRIN  THE  SWAN  KNIGHT    145 

who  caused  her  to  ask  those  troublesome  questions ! 
And  it  was  I  who  made  away  with  her  precious 
brother!  I  know  one  or  two  tricks  of  magic  my- 
self, and  one  of  them  turned  the  boy — into  yonder 
swan!  Ha,  ha,  ha!" 

She  laughed  harshly  and  pointed  to  the  mystic 
bird  now  at  the  river's  brink,  while  King  and  cour- 
tiers looked  on  in  amazed  silence. 

Lohengrin  alone  remained  at  her  outburst.  He 
sank  upon  his  knees  and,  lifting  his  noble  face  so 
that  the  sunlight  seemed  to  irradiate  it  with  a  glory, 
he  prayed  to  Heaven  earnestly  and  silently  for 
aid.  Suddenly,  down  a  beam  of  light,  a  white 
dove  fluttered.  It  was  the  dove  of  the  Grail. 
Accepting  this  as  a  sign  that  his  prayer  was  an- 
swered, Lohengrin  unfastened  the  swan  from  the 
boat,  when  the  bird  vanished  beneath  the  surface 
of  the  water,  and  in  its  stead  rose  a  fair  young 
knight.  Lohengrin  took  his  hand  and  led  him  for- 
ward. 

"This  is  Godfrey,  the  rightful  Duke  of  Bra- 
bant!" he  said.  "Behold  your  chief,  who  will  lead 
you  to  victory!" 

Godfrey  knelt  in  homage  to  the  King  who 
had  raised  him  up  and  embraced  him,  while  the 
people  promised  him  their  glad  allegiance.  Then 
Godfrey  and  Elsa  rushed  into  each  other's  arms  in 
the  joy  of  reunion.  Overcome  with  rage,  Ortrud 


146  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

sank  swooning  across  the  steps  of  the  throne. 
Meanwhile  Lohengrin,  seeing  that  Elsa  was  in 
the  arms  of  her  brother,  entered  the  boat,  whose 
chains  were  seized  by  the  tiny  dove.  A  flutter  of 
its  wings,  and  lo!  the  boat  moved  easily  out  on  the 
stream  and  went  swiftly  forward  against  the  cur- 
rent. 

When  Elsa  raised  her  eyes  from  her  dear 
brother's  face,  she  beheld  the  boat  already  far  out 
upon  the  sunlit  water.  The  knight  stood  leaning 
upon  his  shield,  his  whole  figure  shining,  it  seemed, 
with  unearthly  radiance,  and  alas !  fading  away  like 
some  splendid  dream. 

With  a  last  despairing  cry  of  "My  husband!  my 
husband!"  Elsa  sank  prostrate  upon  the  shore. 
Her  dream  it  had  been,  and  it  was  ended. 


Tannhauser  the  Knight  of  Song 

(Tannhduser) 

AFTER  the  coming  of  Christianity  into  the 
world,  people  no  longer  believed  in  the  old 
gods  and  goddesses.  They  were  called  evil 
spirits,  or  else  people  said  that  they  had  never 
really  existed  at  all.  But  there  was  one  goddess 
who  was  still  believed  in,  although  she  was  feared 
and  even  hated.  She  was  Venus,  goddess  of  Love, 
and  in  the  heyday  of  her  power  she  was  worshipped 
in  many  lands.  For  did  not  Love  stir  the  hearts  of 
all  men,  and  would  it  not  rule  all  the  world  at  the 
last?  And  so  Venus  had  been  given  all  honour 
and  affection ;  and  in  return  she  had  been  the  kind- 
est of  all  the  deities  and  had  tried  to  make  her  sub- 
jects happier  and  more  considerate  one  with  an- 
other. 

But  now,  as  I  say,  all  this  was  changed.  People 
had  ceased  to  worship  Venus,  and  in  revenge  she 
began  to  do  everything  she  could  to  injure  them. 
Instead  of  pure  affection  which  makes  the  heart 
glad,  she  sent  a  baser  love  which  is  only  selfish  and 
which  brings  jealousy  and  quarrels  and  heart-aches 
in  its  train.  And  Venus  herself,  from  being  a  god- 

147 


148  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

dess,  became  a  witch.  She  went  to  dwell  in  a  deep 
cavern  within  a  mountain  in  Germany  which  came 
to  be  called  the  Venusberg.  Here  she  would  lie 
in  wait  for  men  whom  she  would  enchant  and  keep 
imprisoned  within  the  mountain  forever.  They 
would  forget  their  homes  and  loved  ones — every- 
thing— while  they  served  her  and  were  subject  to 
her  wiles.  They  no  longer  saw  the  sun  or  moon 
or  stars  or  the  fresh  green  of  the  springing  grass. 
Instead,  they  lived  in  a  rose-coloured  twilight  filled 
with  beautiful  clouds,  the  heavy  perfume  of  flowers, 
and  the  dancing,  laughing  figures  of  youths  and 
maidens — spirits  of  this  mysterious  underworld 
ruled  by  the  witch  Venus. 

One  day  while  this  enchantress  was  watching 
and  waiting  near  the  entrance  to  her  grotto  she 
saw  a  knight  coming  slowly  over  the  mountains. 
He  was  young  and  handsome,  with  the  first  fine 
strength  of  early  manhood,  but  just  now  he  seemed 
moody  and  dispirited.  Venus  who  could  read  the 
hearts  of  men  knew  who  he  was  and  whence  he 
came,  but  as  you  have  not  yet  heard,  I  will  pause 
to  tell  you. 

The  young  knight's  name  was  Tannhauser  and 
he  lived  in  the  country  of  Thuringia.  At  this  time 
there  were  many  minstrels,  or  strolling  singers,  in 
the  land,  and  so  popular  were  they  at  all  the  courts 
that  even  the  knights  laid  aside  their  swords  and 


TANNHAUSER,  KNIGHT  OF  SONG    149 

spears  and  forgot  their  joustings  for  the  harp  and 
its  music  and  the  contests  of  song.  The  King  of 
this  country,  in  his  castle  at  Wartburg,  had  held 
many  song  contests  or  tournaments,  and  great  was 
the  honour  to  any  knight  or  minstrel  who  won  his 
prizes. 

One  of  the  best  harpers  and  sweetest  singers  of 
them  all  was  Tannhauser.  He  had  early  shown  a 
fine  ear  for  music,  and  when  the  time  came  for  him 
to  enter  the  contests,  he  won  many  prizes  and  bade 
fair  to  outdistance  all  the  others.  Indeed,  it  was 
whispered  that  so  appealing  were  his  harp  chords 
and  so  wonderful  was  his  voice,  that  he  had  quite 
won  the  heart  of  the  King's  niece,  the  Princess 
Elizabeth. 

Yet  Tannhauser  was  not  entirely  happy.  He 
loved  the  Princess  and  he  loved  his  music,  but  al- 
though both  smiled  upon  him  he  felt  vaguely  dis- 
satisfied. It  seemed  to  him  as  though  the  hon- 
ours and  pleasures  of  the  world  had  come  with  too 
little  effort.  He  wanted  to  reach  out  beyond  for 
other  things  still  unattainable — he  knew  not  what. 

Finally  he  bade  farewell  to  the  Princess,  and  to 
his  friends  at  the  castle,  saying  that  he  was  going 
to  travel  in  distant  lands.  The  parting  was  sor- 
rowful, although  he  had  fully  resolved  upon  it; 
and  now  as  he  set  forth  across  the  mountains  car- 
rying only  his  harp  he  was  doubly  sad  and  cast 
down. 


150  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

Suddenly  the  rock  door  of  a  cavern  swung  aside 
before  his  gaze  as  if  by  magic.  In  the  dimly  lighted 
entrance  he  saw  a  beautiful  woman  standing  and 
stretching  out  her  arms  to  him.  Her  figure  was 
outlined  by  a  halo,  as  it  were,  caused  by  the  rosy 
glow  which  came  from  within  the  cave.  It  was 
Venus  who  sought  to  lure  him.  Her  terrible 
witches'  eyes  were  hid  behind  a  smiling  face,  and 
she  was  once  again  the  fairest  woman  in  all  the 
world.  Now  she  wove  a  spell  while  she  beckoned 
to  him. 

"Come,"  she  said  softly.  "I  have  seen  your  un- 
rest and  alone  can  bring  you  happiness.  In  my 
blest  land  you  will  find  all  the  music  and  beauty  for 
which  you  seek.  Cornel" 

Scarcely  knowing  what  he  did,  the  knight  obeyed 
the  enchantress  and  entered  the  portal.  As  he  did 
so  the  heavy  stone  closed  behind  him  and  at  the 
same  moment  the  memory  of  his  earth-life  vanished 
like  a  dream.  He  had  become  in  a  moment  a  sub- 
ject of  Venus.  Taking  him  by  the  hand  she  led 
him  far  into  the  depth  of  her  mysterious  realm,  and 
at  every  step  his  wonder  and  delight  increased. 
Here  the  very  trees  seemed  attuned  to  harmony. 
There  the  waves  of  a  deep  blue  lake  sang  of  love 
as  they  beat  upon  the  shore.  Out  on  the  water 
swam  bewitching  mermaids;  while  on  the  strand 
the  light  graceful  figures  of  elves  and  sirens  en- 
gaged in  mimic  warfare. 


He  saw  a  beautiful  woman 


TANNHAUSER,  KNIGHT  OF  SONG    151 

Here  at  last  Tannhauser  thought  he  had  found 
true  beauty  and  happiness.  And  so  he  gladly 
served  his  queen  for  a  whole  year,  thinking  of  it 
only  as  a  single  day.  He  had,  in  fact,  completely 
forgotten  his  old  life,  and  lived  wholly  in  the  pres- 
ent, content  with  the  joys  of  the  moment. 

But  at  last  a  change  came  over  him.  Some- 
thing, he  knew  not  what,  stirred  within  him  and 
told  him  that  he  was  a  slave.  He  began  to  realise 
that  he  was  under  the  power  of  a  spell  and  that  he 
had  given  up  many  things  for  which  he  now  dimly 
longed.  He  began  to  grow  restless  and  silent. 

The  watchful  Venus  saw  this  new  mood  almost 
before  he  was  aware  of  it.  Anxious  to  overcome 
it,  she  prepared  new  and  wilder  pleasures  day  by 
day.  Dances,  pageants,  masquerades,  tableaux, 
banquets  and  tournaments  followed  each  in  be- 
wildering succession.  Concerts  were  given  which 
far  excelled  the  music  of  earth.  Her  wiles  seemed 
successful.  For  the  time,  Tannhauser  forgot  his 
moodiness ;  and  when  Venus  asked  him  to  compose 
a  song  in  her  honour,  he  responded  with  one  full  of 
praise  of  her  beauty  and  charm.  Then  he  sang  of 
the  life  at  Venusberg  and  its  attractiveness.  But 
even  as  he  sang  his  new  found  longing  gained  hold 
of  him  and  he  ended  with  an  outburst  which  sur- 
prised even  him: 


152  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

"  'Tis  freedom  I  must  win  or  die, 
For  freedom  I  can  all  defy. 
In  rose-hued  grottos  I  am  longing 
For  all  the  soft  wood  zephyrs  thronging, 
For  vision  of  fair  heaven's  blue, 
The  songs  of  birds,  the  old  earth's  view! 
Come  life,  come  death,  forth  would  I  go 
To  taste  of  human  joy  or  woe. 
No  more  in  slavery  would  I  lie, — 
O  queen,  O  goddess,  let  me  fly!" 

Venus  was  full  of  anger  at  this  direct  appeal  for 
freedom,  in  spite  of  all  her  arts;  but  she  hid  her 
feelings  behind  a  smile  and  said  in  soft  tones, 

"Whither  would  you  fly?  Are  not  all  things 
here  in  perfection?  What  more  would  you  desire? 
Ask,  and  you  shall  be  obeyed!" 

"I  want  only  freedom,"  said  the  knight  mourn- 
fully. 

"What  is  freedom?  Where  could  you  go?  The 
earth  you  speak  of  has  forgotten  you.  Here  you 
are  immortal  and  all  things  are  yours." 

"Still  I  would  away,"  persisted  Tannhauser. 
"I  know  not  where.  O  queen,  give  me  leave  to 
try  another  life  for  myself — something  that  will 
meet  this  new  found  longing  within  my  breast !  I 
will  not  be  disloyal  to  your  memory.  Indeed,  I 
will  sing  your  praise,  and  yours  alone.  But  give 
me  leave  to  go!" 

"Then  depart!"  said  Venus,  her  voice  growing 


TANNHAUSER,  KNIGHT  OF  SONG    153 

cold  with  anger.  "Out  of  my  sight,  ungrateful 
mortal!  But  heed  well  my  warning.  You  have 
lost  your  hold  upon  the  other  world  by  lingering 
here,  and  men  will  shun  you  when  they  find  whence 
you  come.  Some  day  you  will  return  to  me,  and 
willingly.  Till  then,  away!" 

She  stamped  her  foot,  and  in  a  moment  the 
scene  changed  like  the  dissolving  picture  upon  a 
stage.  Instead  of  the  grotto  with  its  perfume  and 
dim  lights  and  dancing  figures,  Tannhauser  found 
himself  lying  upon  a  grassy  knoll  under  the  wide 
Hue  sky  of  heaven  and  with  the  bright  sunlight 
streaming  full  upon  him.  He  rose  as  if  waking 
from  a  deep  sleep,  stretched  his  limbs  and  took  a 
long  breath  of  the  sweet  pure  air.  As  he  did 
so  he  cast  his  eyes  across  the  valley  and  instantly 
his  past  life  came  back  to  him  fresh  and  distinct  as 
if  but  yesterday. 

There  stood  the  noble  castle  of  Wartburg  where 
he  had  taken  part  in  the  contests  of  song;  where 
the  King  had  been  gracious  to  him;  and  where  the 
beautiful  Elizabeth  had  smiled  at  his  coming.  A 
pang  smote  his  heart  when  he  remembered  her 
sweet  graciousness.  Where  was  she  now ;  and  how 
long  had  it  been  since  he  proved  so  unworthy  of 
her? 

Near  by,  a  shepherd  played  upon  his  pipe  while 
his  flock  grazed  contentedly  near  him.  Presently 


154  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

the  piper  called  the  sheep  and  they  followed  him 
down  the  valley  to  fresh  pastures. 

Then  the  sound  of  men's  voices  singing  came  to 
the  knight's  ears  from  a  distant  mountain  path. 
Slowly  it  drew  near  and  grew  more  distinct — a 
mournful  yet  beautiful  melody  chanted  by  a  group 
of  pilgrims  on  their  way  to  Rome.  As  the  words  of 
the  penitential  song  reached  him,  the  knight  felt 
for  the  first  time  the  weight  of  his  sin  in  turning 
aside  from  the  path  of  duty.  Overcome  with  re- 
morse he  fell  upon  his  knees  before  a  wayside  cross 
and  prayed  fervently  for  forgiveness. 

While  he  knelt  a  new  sound  smote  the  air.  It 
was  the  blast  of  hunting  horns  mingled  with  the 
joyous  baying  of  hounds.  Presently  the  King 
himself  entered  with  a  troop  of  huntsmen  starting 
out  upon  the  chase.  As  they  passed  near  the  kneel- 
ing knight  the  King  recognised  him,  and  reigning 
his  horse  he  asked  kindly  where  Tannhauser  had 
been. 

"I  have  been  in  strange  lands,  your  Majesty," 
answered  the  minstrel  knight  sadly.  "I  went  in 
search  of  many  things,  but  I  found  them  not.  I 
pray  you  let  me  fare  on  my  way." 

"Not  so,"  answered  the  King.  "We  have  missed 
you  greatly  in  the  lists  of  song,  and  upon  the  chase. 
Stay  with  us  at  least  for  a  time." 

The  other  knights  joined  the  entreaties  of  the 


TANNHAUSER,  KNIGHT  OF  SONG    155 

King.  To  tell  the  truth,  some  were  not  over  anx- 
ious for  his  return,  as  they  remembered  only  too 
well  how  he  had  vanquished  them  in  singing.  But 
there  was  one  of  their  number  who  had  been  Tann- 
hauser's  steadfast  friend — Wolfram  von  Eschen- 
bach  by  name — who  hastened  to  greet  him  and  urge 
him  to  remain  with  them.  Wolfram  had  been  a 
rival  of  Tannhauser,  not  only  in  song  but  also  for 
the  favour  of  the  Princess.  Yet  this  did  not  de- 
tract from  his  generous  welcome. 

But  still  the  wandering  minstrel  hesitated  to  re- 
turn; and  it  is  probable  that  he  would  have  gone 
on  his  way  had  not  Wolfram  said  in  a  low  voice, 

"Let  the  welcome  of  still  another  win  you  back 
to  us.  There  is  one  yonder  in  the  castle  to  whom 
the  sight  of  your  face  will  bring  back  the  light  in 
her  eyes  and  the  smile  on  her  lips.  In  sooth  she 
has  drooped  sadly  since  you  went  away.  And  the 
contests  of  song  which  she  was  wont  to  grace  with 
her  presence  are  now  forsaken  by  her.  Need  I 
tell  her  name  to  you?  Have  you  indeed  forgotten 
the  fairest  among  maidens,  the  Princess  Eliza- 
beth?" 

Tannhauser  trembled  violently  at  the  mention 
of  her  name.  A  deep  longing  came  over  him  to 
behold  her  face  once  more  and  hear  the  sound  of 
her  voice,  although  he  felt  with  tenfold  anguish  the 
sense  of  his  own  unworthiness.  His  eyes  were  full 


156 


STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 


of  tears  as  he  turned  and  looked  toward  the  castle 
shining  in  the  sunlight  upon  the  farther  hill. 

"I  pray  you  lead  me  to  her  presence,"  he  said 
simply. 

"Come!"  commanded  the  King,  seeing  Wolfram 
take  Tannhauser  by  the  hand.  And  turning  with 
all  his  cavalcade  he  escorted  the  wanderer  back  to 
the  castle  with  all  the  pomp  of  a  conqueror. 

That  very  night  had  been  set  apart  for  one  of 
the  yearly  contests  of  song;  and  though  the  lists 
had  long  been  closed,  the  King  gave  command  that 
Tannhauser's  name  should  be  added.  The  Prin- 
cess Elizabeth  had  not  been  visible  when  the  com- 
pany first  returned  to  the  castle.  But  she  had 
heard  of  her  knight's  return,  and  had  joyfully 
promised  to  attend  the  contest ;  so  the  occasion  bade 
fair  to  be  of  more  than  usual  splendour. 

In  the  evening,  before  the  expected  guests  were 
assembled,  the  Princess  went  to  the  Minstrels'  Hall 
— a  large  circular  chamber,  with  high  columns  and 
arched  roof — to  attend  personally  to  setting  it  in 
order,  and  also  perchance,  as  her  heart  confessed, 
to  catch  an  early  glimpse  of  her  beloved  knight. 

Fair  was  the  Princess  as  a  May  morning,  with 
deep  blue  eyes  that  had  caught  some  of  the  far-off 
sky  in  them.  Her  hair  was  soft  and  golden  and 
curly  as  that  of  a  little  child.  Slight  of  frame  was 


TANNHAUSER,  KNIGHT  OF  SONG    157 

she,  but  with  a  gracefulness  and  height  that  gave 
her  a  queenly  dignity.  Her  cheeks,  too  often  pale 
of  late,  were  to-day  flushed  with  animation.  She 
had  indeed  missed  her  minstrel  sadly,  and  now  her 
heart  bounded  at  the  news  of  his  return. 

Presently  she  heard  a  familiar  footfall  in  the 
room,  and  knew  without  looking  up  that  it  was  he. 

"O  Princess,  forgive!"  said  a  voice.  Tannhauser 
was  kneeling  at  her  feet,  his  hands  stretched  out 
imploringly. 

"You  must  not  kneel  to  me,"  she  answered, 
gently  endeavouring  to  raise  him.  "It  is  not  for 
me  to  forgive.  Only  tell  me  where  you  have  been 
so  long." 

"I  cannot  tell  you  that,"  he  replied  brokenly. 
"I  have  wandered  far  away  from  your  dear  pres- 
ence ;  and  between  yesterday  and  to-day  the  veil  of 
oblivion  is  dropped.  Every  remembrance  has  for- 
ever vanished  save  one  thing  only  rising  from  the 
darkness, — the  thought  that  some  day  I  might  be- 
hold your  face  again  and  hear  you  say,  *  I  for- 
give.' " 

Elizabeth  covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  but 
the  glad  tears  trickled  between  her  ringers;  and 
Tannhauser,  beholding  her  emotion,  realised  how 
deeply  he  had  been  loved  and  what  a  pearl  he  had 
cast  away. 

But  the  Princess  like  all  loving  women  was  for- 


158  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

giving.  She  asked  no  more  questions  of  the  min- 
strel, but  when  he  took  one  of  her  hands  and  then 
the  other,  as  all  lovers  will,  she  let  them  linger  in 
his  own  in  perfect  content. 

The  entrance  of  the  King  broke  upon  their  little 
scene  of  reconciliation.  He  saw  it  all  at  a  glance 
and  came  forward  with  a  frank  smile. 

"Ah,  it  is  as  I  had  hoped !"  he  said,  as  he  took  a 
hand  of  each  and  held  it  for  a  moment.  "Now  let 
us  have  no  more  quarrels,  but  live  together  as  har- 
moniously as  one  of  our  minstrel's  songs." 

Thus  it  was  that  Tannhauser  realised,  in  a  great 
wave  of  thankfulness,  that  his  old  life  was  still  open 
to  him,  and  not  closed  as  Venus  had  said.  He  re- 
solved to  be  worthy  henceforth  of  his  position  and 
honours.  Above  all  would  he  cherish  this  sweet 
Princess  who  loved  him  so  unselfishly. 

Not  long  after  this,  the  sound  of  trumpets  pro- 
claimed that  the  contest  was  about  to  begin.  The 
King  and  the  Princess  took  their  places  upon  a 
dais  at  one  side  of  the  hall,  while  Tannhauser  re- 
tired to  make  his  proper  entry  with  the  other  min- 
strel knights. 

Soon  the  people  began  to  throng  the  hall.  No- 
bles and  ladies  came  first  and  passed  before  the 
throne  and  bowed  before  taking  their  seats.  Then 
came  warriors  and  chosen  guests.  And  finally  with 
another  flourish  of  the  trumpets  entered  the  singers 


TANNHAUSER,  KNIGHT  OF  SONG    159 

of  the  evening.  Each  was  a  famous  knight  who 
like  Tannhauser  had  laid  aside  the  sword  in  favour 
of  the  gentler  harp.  The  fame  of  some  of  these 
knights,  like  Wolfram  von  Eschenbach  and  Walter 
von  der  Vogelweide,  is  known  to  this  day.  But 
among  them  all  none  was  more  handsome  or  of  bet- 
ter renown  than  Tannhauser. 

As  these  knights  did  obeisance  and  took  the 
places  assigned  to  them,  the  King  rose  and  thanked 
them  all  for  their  attendance.  The  subject  of  the 
songs,  he  said,  was  to  be  "Love" ;  and  whoso  should 
sing  best  on  this  lofty  theme  should  receive  the  prize 
from  the  hand  of  the  Princess  Elizabeth.  Let  him 
ask  what  he  would  added  the  generous  King,  and  it 
should  be  granted. 

More  than  one  of  the  knights  had  been  a  suitor 
for  the  Princess's  hand,  and  they  saw  in  this  prom- 
ise a  reward  for  their  dearest  hopes.  So  you  may 
imagine  what  a  wave  of  suppressed  excitement  went 
around  all  the  crowded  hall  at  this  announcement. 
The  hands  of  the  minstrels  trembled  as  they  drew 
lots  for  the  order  of  their  songs. 

The  lot  of  Wolfram  came  first,  and  amid  a  pro- 
found hush  he  rose  to  begin. 

Thrumming  the  harp  strings  with  a  practised 
hand  he  began  in  a  low  clear  voice  to  sing  of  un- 
selfish devotion  and  chivalry.  Wolfram  had  long 
loved  the  Princess,  but  had  generously  yielded  place 


160  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

in  favour  of  his  friend  Tannhauser.  Now  his  song 
showed  the  nobility  of  the  man.  He  paid  tribute 
to  the  ladies  of  the  court  among  whom  the  Princess 
shone  as  some  rare  gem.  Then,  his  voice  rising 
steadily  higher  till  it  thrilled  his  hearers,  he  sang 
of  the  one  true  love  that  counted  its  highest  joy  the 
sacrifice  of  even  life  itself  for  the  loved  one. 

When  Wolfran  had  finished,  the  hall  resounded 
with  cries  of  acclamation;  for  indeed  his  song  had 
been  beautiful,  and  no  less  true.  Tannhauser  alone 
did  not  join  in  the  applause.  While  the  song  was 
being  sung  he  had  sat  silent  as  one  in  a  dream. 
Again  before  his  eyes  came  the  vision  of  the  fairy 
grotto  with  its  gorgeous  pictures  and  entrancing 
music.  He  seemed  to  see  the  bewitching  figure  of 
Venus  and  to  hear  his  own  voice  as  he  promised  her, 
"  I  will  sing  your  praise  and  yours  alone." 

Scarcely  knowing  what  he  did,  Tannhauser 
sprang  to  his  feet,  before  the  applause  for  his  rival 
had  subsided,  and  began  to  sing  an  answer  to  Wol- 
fram's strain.  But  how  different  was  his  theme! 
Instead  of  the  pure  exalted  love  which  gloried  in 
self-sacrifice,  he  sang  of  selfish  desire  which  sought 
only  for  personal  gratification.  Truly  the  enchant- 
ment was  still  upon  him,  for  he  could  think  only  of 
the  life  of  the  grotto  and  the  round  of  pleasures 
which  had  been  planned  for  him,  rather  than  of  any 
devotion  upon  his  own  part.  But  that  was  the 


TANNHAUSER,  KNIGHT  OF  SONG    161 

way  in  which  Venus,  once  the  goddess  of  true  love, 
now  weakened  men's  minds. 

When  Tannhauser  began  to  sing,  the  audience 
gave  him  close  heed.  He  had  not  proceeded  far, 
however,  with  his  strange  theme,  when  murmurs 
of  anger  and  dissent  began  to  be  heard,  which  in- 
creased until  one  of  the  minstrels  at  length  sprang 
to  his  feet. 

"The  love  you  sing  is  false!"  he  cried;  "false  as 
your  own  heart !  We  will  not  hear  it  in  silence,  nor 
suffer  you  thus  to  cast  a  slur  upon  all  true  knights. 
I  challenge  you  to  mortal  combat !" 

These  words  were  loudly  cheered  by  other  min- 
strels. The  entire  hall  was  in  an  uproar  until  the 
King  arose  and  commanded  silence.  Then  Wol- 
fram was  seen  standing  once  more  with  harp  in 
hand,  beckoning  to  be  heard. 

In  words  of  kindly  reproach  he  rebuked  Tann- 
hauser for  his  selfish  and  unworthy  song.  He 
could  not  know  what  real  devotion  was,  Wolfram 
said,  if  he  placed  it  upon  so  low  a  plane.  Then 
Wolfram  again  touched  his  harp  strings  and  sang 
a  pleasing  tender  refrain  in  praise  of  the  love  to 
which  they  all  aspired. 

But  Tannhauser  rudely  interrupted  him,  and 
heeding  not  the  clamour  which  broke  forth  again, 
he  sang  in  wild  reckless  fashion  of  the  life  he  had 
led  during  the  past  year.  He  told  of  the  grotto, 

M 


162  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

its  music,  its  perfumes,  its  exquisite  scenes  and 
round  of  delights  presided  over  by  Venus  herself. 

"Your  heroic  self -sacrifice,"  he  ended  sneeringly, 
"is  cold  and  tame  in  comparison  with  this!  And 
the  fairest  women  of  earth  pale  into  insignificance 
beside  this  wonderful  goddess.  Ah,  Venus,  I 
have  kept  my  promise!  Thine  be  the  praise!" 

He  ended  as  one  in  a  trance — as  in  truth  the 
poor  knight  must  have  been.  He  stood  motion- 
less with  gaze  fixed  as  it  were  upon  some  hidden 
scene,  while  his  harp  fell  clattering  from  his  hand 
to  the  ground. 

Then  the  outcry  burst  forth  with  redoubled  fury. 
The  minstrels  surged  forward  tumultuously  cry- 
ing: 

"He  has  been  to  the  Venusberg!  He  has  fallen 
under  the  power  of  the  evil  one!  Away  with  him! 
Kill  him!" 

In  their  anger  and  horror  of  him  they  must  have 
slain  him,  had  not  some  one  interposed.  But  quick 
as  thought  a  slender,  white-robed  figure  stood  be- 
tween them  and  the  misguided  knight,  and  held 
out  her  hands  entreatingly.  It  was  Elizabeth. 
She  had  sat  there  sick  at  heart  listening  to  her 
chosen  minstrel's  song.  All  too  well  she  saw  how 
unworthy  was  the  one  to  whom  she  had  given  her 
heart;  but,  once  given,  she  could  not  recall  it  in  a 
moment.  She  would  pray  for  him,  and  live  in  the 
hope  that  he  might  yet  prove  worthy. 


TANNHAUSER,  KNIGHT  OF  SONG     163 

"Stopl"  she  cried  to  the  nobles  who  circled  about 
Tannhauser,  with  swords  drawn.  "Stop,  I  com- 
mand you!  Would  you  slay  him  with  all  his  sins 
ripe  upon  his  head?" 

"He  has  dishonoured  knighthood!"  muttered  the 
minstrel  who  had  previously  challenged  him.  "He 
deserves  no  mercy." 

"Then  that  is  all  the  more  reason  why  you  should 
grant  mercy,"  she  answered. 

By  this  time  the  King  had  asserted  his  authority, 
and  soon  the  semblance  of  peace  was  restored. 
Then  Elizabeth  in  all  her  sweet  dignity  pleaded  the 
cause  of  Tannhauser.  Addressing  now  the  King, 
now  the  nobles,  and  now  the  knight  himself,  she 
pointed  out  that  Tannhauser  was  still  under  the 
spell  of  evil  into  which  he  had  fallen,  and  was  not 
accountable  for  his  deeds. 

"Give  him  another  opportunity,  O  my  King!" 
she  concluded.  "Perchance  in  the  doing  of  some 
penance  or  some  gracious  act,  his  better  heart  will 
assert  itself,  and  he  will  then  see  how  he  has 
wounded  all  our  hearts  this  day." 

As  she  finished  speaking  she  turned,  to  find  at 
her  feet  the  penitent  knight.  The  vision  had 
passed  leaving  him  bowed  down  under  the  burden 
of  his  sin  and  unworthiness.  He  kissed  the  hem  of 
her  garment  while  tears  flowed  fast  and  unchecked 
from  his  eyes.  For  his  life  he  cared  not  a  straw. 


164  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

But  that  he  should  have  sunk  so  low  in  the  eyes  of 
this  noble  woman — the  thought  smote  his  heart  with 
keenest  anguish! 

Then  the  voice  of  the  King  came  to  him,  as  it 
were  an  echo, — 

"One  path  alone  can  save  you  from  perdition  and 
everlasting  woe,  abandoned  man!  That  path  is 
now  open  to  your  steps.  To-day  a  band  of  pil- 
grims are  setting  forth  on  their  toilsome  way  to 
Rome.  Depart  with  them  and  seek  pardon  for 
your  sins." 

Even  as  the  King  spoke,  a  chant  was  heard 
through  the  open  portal.  Tannhauser  recognised 
it  as  the  same  sweet  strain  he  had  heard  that  morn- 
ing by  the  wayside  cross.  He  kissed  the  hem  of 
Elizabeth's  robe  once  again  and  dared  to  look  with 
mute  entreaty  into  her  eyes.  Then  he  sprang 
quickly  to  his  feet  and  addressed  the  King  in  two 
wild,  hopeful  words. 

"To  Rome!"  he  cried,  and  hurried  from  the  hall 
to  join  the  pilgrim  band. 

One  year  passed  slowly  by.  Again  it  was  spring- 
time, fragrant  with  the  bursting  of  buds  and 
melodious  with  the  song  of  nesting  birds.  And 
now  the  return  of  the  pilgrims  was  anxiously  ex- 
pected at  Wartburg.  But  among  them  all,  no 
heart  was  more  anxious  than  Elizabeth's.  Day 


TANNHAUSER,  KNIGHT  OF  SONG    165 

after  day  she  had  sat  in  the  casement  overlooking 
the  valley.  Night  after  night  she  had  knelt  in  fer- 
vent prayer  for  the  safety  of  one  who  was  a  wan- 
derer over  the  face  of  the  earth.  And  daily  would 
she  go,  attended  by  her  maids,  to  the  little  way- 
side cross  where  Tannhauser  had  knelt  when  the 
pilgrims  passed  by.  Indeed,  her  whole  life  seemed 
to  hang  upon  the  love  which  she  had  given  and 
could  not  recall.  Her  prayer  was  only  that  her 
loved  one  might  be  forgiven,  and  that  she  might  see 
his  face  again  before  she  died. 

One  afternoon  just  at  sunset  while  she  knelt,  as 
her  custom  was,  before  the  cross,  Wolfram  von 
Eschenbach  approached  her.  His  love  was  still  as 
noble  and  unselfish  as  it  had  been  in  former  days, 
and  so  he  longed  almost  as  earnestly  as  she  for  the 
return  of  her  pilgrim,  forgiven.  That  she  might 
be  happy  and  restored  to  health  was  his  great  de- 
sire. To-day  the  sight  of  her  pale  and  wasted  fea- 
tures alarmed  him. 

"Health  to  you,  my  Princess!"  he  said,  saluting 
her,  and  then  continued,  "Methinks  it  is  now  about 
the  time  of  year  when  our  pilgrim  band  should  re- 
turn." 

"Hast  heard  any  news?"  she  asked,  starting  up. 

"None.  But  the  hermit  Peter  is  of  opinion  that 
they  will  be  back  before  another  change  of  the 
moon." 


166  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

"Ah,  God  grant  that  they  may!"  the  Princess 
said  wearily  sinking  again  before  the  cross. 

While  Wolfram  stood  gazing  sadly  at  her  dear 
face,  she  suddenly  turned  her  head,  and  a  look  of 
rapt  attention  came  into  her  eyes. 

"Listen!"  she  exclaimed  softly,  while  she  sprang 
again  to  her  feet.  "Listen!  do  you  not  hear  it? 
It  is  their  song!" 

It  was  indeed  the  far-off  chant  of  the  pilgrims 
which  her  quick  ear  had  caught.  They  were  re- 
turning at  last ! 

Soon  the  little  company  came  in  sight,  and  then 
filed  slowly  by,  rejoicing  that  their  penance  had 
been  accepted  and  their  sins  forgiven.  But  to  the 
eager  eyes  of  the  two  onlookers  one  figure  did  not 
appear.  Tannhauser  was  not  among  them. 

"He  will  never  return!"  said  Elizabeth  quietly; 
and  giving  one  last  despairing  glance  down  the  val- 
ley she  fell  upon  her  knees  and  made  a  last  pitiful 
little  prayer.  It  was  that  death  might  soon  come 
to  ease  her  aching  heart.  Until  then  she  vowed  de- 
voted service  to  the  church,  and  she  asked  in  return 
that  Tannhauser  might  still  be  forgiven. 

The  prayer  ended,  Elizabeth  rose  and  slowly 
walked  away  toward  the  castle.  Wolfram  looked 
after  her,  as  long  as  she  was  in  sight,  with  a  strange 
foreboding  clutching  at  his  heart-strings, — it  was 
that  he  would  never  see  her  again  alive. 


Wolfram  looked  after  her 


TANNHAUSER,  KNIGHT  OF  SONG    167 

The  sun  had  long  since  sunk,  and  the  twilight 
was  deepening,  but  Wolfram  still  lingered  by  the 
little  cross  made  sacred  by  her  presence.  As  he 
tarried,  the  evening  star  rose  above  the  rim  of  hills 
and  began  to  glow  with  peaceful  brilliancy.  It 
seemed  to  Wolfram  as  though  the  soul  of  Eliza- 
beth were  there,  shining  in  that  far-off  sky.  He 
began  to  sing  a  beautiful  measure  filled  with  this 
thought  and  beginning, 

"O  thou  sublime,  sweet  evening  star!" 

Scarcely  were  the  last  notes  silent  when  a  pil- 
grim drew  near.  He  was  tattered,  footsore  and  de- 
jected, yet  at  the  first  glance  Wolfram  knew  him. 

"Tannhauser!"  he  exclaimed.  "What  does  this 
mean?  Do  not  tell  me  that  you  have  not  received 
pardon,  for  the  King  would  not  allow  you  to  re- 
turn otherwise." 

Tannhauser  did  not  reply  to  his  question,  but 
merely  said: 

"Show  me  the  road  to  the  Venusberg.  I  have 
lost  my  way." 

"You  have  indeed  lost  your  way,  unhappy  man, 
if  you  would  return  to  that  evil  place !"  exclaimed 
his  friend.  "But  first  tell  me,  have  you  been  to 
Rome?" 

"I  have  been  to  Rome." 

"Were  not  your  sins  forgiven?" 


168  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

"You  see  how  I  return,"  answered  Tannhauser 
defiantly. 

"I  pray  you,  for  old  friendship's  sake,  tell  me 
all!"  pleaded  Wolfram.  "Did  you  not  do  penance, 
and  then  go  before  the  Pope?" 

"Aye,  so  I  did!  Every  pain  and  penance  set 
forth  in  the  calendar  I  did  faithfully  perform.  I 
afflicted  my  body  with  grievous  blows.  I  gave  all 
my  substance  to  the  poor.  I  ministered  to  the  sick. 
I  prayed  night  and  morning  before  every  shrine. 
I  asked  forgiveness  continually,  yet  my  soul  felt 
heavy  and  oppressed.  Then  I  went  before  the 
Holy  Father  and  confessed  all  my  sin.  He  had 
pardoned  the  other  members  of  our  band;  but  when 
he  heard  that  I  had  lived  a  year  in  the  Venusberg  he 
was  filled  with  horror  and  indignation. 

"'Out  of  my  sight!'  he  exclaimed.  'There  is 
no  mercy  for  such  as  you !  As  soon  would  I  expect 
this  staff  in  my  hand  to  bud  and  bring  forth  green 
leaves.' 

"Thus  am  I  for  all  time  accursed,"  continued  the 
wanderer  bitterly.  "There  is  but  one  thing  left  for 
me  to  do.  The  enchantress  told  me  that  all  men 
would  renounce  me  and  that  when  I  was  driven 
from  the  world  I  could  find  refuge  again  in  her 
grotto.  I  must  turn  to  her." 

"Ah,  do  not  go!"  said  Wolfram,  laying  a  de- 
taining hand  upon  his  friend's  shoulder.  "Do  not 


TANNHAUSER,  KNIGHT  OF  SONG     169 

throw  your  last  slender  chance  of  salvation  away; 
but  live  a  life  of  good  deeds  and  self-sacrifice! 
There  was  one  who  knelt  at  this  cross  only  this 
evening  and  prayed  to  heaven  for  your  pardon. 
Such  prayers  do  not  go  unheeded!" 

"Too  late!"  groaned  Tannhauser.  "I  am  ut- 
terly unworthy  and  cast  off!  If  you  will  not  di- 
rect my  steps  to  the  Venusberg,  I  must  summon 
the  goddess  herself  to  my  aid." 

And  raising  his  voice  he  called  aloud  to  Venus, 
under  the  name  of  goddess,  and  asked  her  to  aid  his 
distress. 

Instantly  the  shades  of  evening  were  lighted  by 
a  ruddy  glow,  while  a  heavy  fragrance  smote  the 
senses.  In  a  radiant  mist  dim  figures  were  seen 
which  danced  forward  laughingly  and  beckoned  and 
pointed.  And  down  the  bright  broad  pathway 
they  trod,  a  flood  of  rose-coloured  light  streamed 
from  a  portal  in  the  side  of  the  hill,  while  there  in 
the  entrance  stood  Venus,  a  vision  of  evil  beauty 
and  charm. 

"Farewell,  forever!"  cried  Tannhauser  to  his 
friend.  "I  go  to  the  only  haven  left  for  me." 

"No,  no!"  exclaimed  Wolfram;  "an  angel  is  even 
now  pleading  your  cause  in  Heaven.  It  is  the  soul 
of  Elizabeth!  See!" 

He  pointed  as  he  spoke  to  a  procession  of  woe 
that  was  filing  out  of  the  castle  gate.  It  was  a 


170  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

group  of  mourners  bearing  torches  and  chanting  a 
solemn  refrain.  As  it  drew  near  a  bier  was  dis- 
cerned in  the  midst,  and  thereon  lay  the  lifeless 
form  of  the  Princess. 

"Elizabeth!  Ah,  dear  Lord  have  pity!"  said 
Tannhauser  in  hushed  tones  while  he  watched  the 
procession  advance.  "Have  pity  and  save  me  from 
the  power  of  the  evil  one!" 

At  these  words  the  magic  light  of  the  Venusberg 
vanished  as  suddenly  as  it  had  come.  The  en- 
chantress realised  that  her  victim  was  lost  to  her 
forever. 

But  Tannhauser  paid  no  heed  to  these  things. 
He  stood  only  gazing  at  the  mournful  procession 
which  was  passing  by.  At  a  gesture  from  Wolfram 
it  halted;  and  then  Tannhauser  came  with  slow, 
reverent  steps  to  the  side  of  the  bier.  As  he  sank 
upon  his  knees  his  strength  suddenly  left  him  and 
he  felt  as  though  his  hold  upon  life  were  slipping 
away.  But  with  it  went  his  burden  of  sin  and  sor- 
row, leaving  behind  a  blessed  peace  such  as  he  had 
never  known  before. 

"Elizabeth — dear  saint  in  heaven — pray  for  me!" 
he  murmured. 

His  head  sank  down  until  his  forehead  touched 
her  hand. 

Suddenly  the  intense  stillness  was  broken  by  a 
thrilling  cry  from  the  outer  edge  of  the  circle. 


TANNHAUSER,  KNIGHT  OF  SONG    171 

"A  miracle!  a  miracle!"  said  a  voice. 

Wolfram  pushed  his  way  gently  to  his  friend's 
side.  In  his  hand  was  the  Pope's  staff — and  it  had 
budded  and  brought  forth  green  leaves! 

"See  the  sign  which  God  hath  sent!"  he  said  in 
hushed  tones.  "It  is  a  token  that  all  your  sins  are 
forgiven." 

Tannhauser's  face  brightened  into  a  glorious 
smile,  but  he  uttered  no  sound.  Instead,  his  head 
fell  forward  again  until  it  was  pillowed  by  Eliza- 
beth's white  arm.  The  way-worn  pilgrim  had 
ended  his  journey.  The  Knight  of  Song  had  heard 
the  harmony  of  true  love  sung  by  a  celestial  choir. 
His  wandering  steps  had  been  guided  by  the  faith 
of  one  steadfast  soul  into  the  ways  of  peace. 


The  Master  Singers 

(Die  Meister singer  von  Number g) 

YOU  and  I  have  just  read  of  a  song  contest 
which  ended  sadly;  so  I  know  we  shall  be 
glad  to  read  about  another  which  ended  in 
quite  different  fashion.  But  how  that  was,  I  can- 
not tell  you  beforehand.  You  must  follow  the 
story  for  yourself. 

At  the  time  when  the  knights  were  glad  to  be 
known  as  minstrels — or  "minnesingers,"  as  they 
were  called  in  Germany — the  plain  citizens  and 
tradespeople  were  likewise  interested  in  the  art  of 
song-writing.  Sometimes  they  formed  musical  so- 
cieties, or  guilds,  which  laid  down  certain  rules 
and  offered  prizes;  and  any  one  was  at  liberty  to 
try  for  these  prizes,  provided  he  obeyed  all  the 
rules. 

The  quaint  old  city  of  Nuremberg  was  one  of 
the  chief  music  centres  of  the  day,  being  widely 
noted  for  its  guilds  and  contests.  One  of  the  lead- 
ing societies  was  composed  entirely  of  tradespeople, 
such  as  the  butcher,  the  baker,  and  the  candlestick- 
maker,  and  every  fellow  became  so  filled  with  the 
spirit  of  the  times  that  he  couldn't  sharpen  a  knife 

172 


THE  MASTER  SINGERS  173 

or  blow  a  bellows  without  keeping  time  with  his 
feet  and  trying  to  whistle  a  brand  new  tune  in  the 
doing  of  it!  In  fact,  Hans  Sachs,  the  genial  old 
cobbler,  was  perpetually  hammering  out  new  ditties 
with  lusty  blows  upon  his  leather,  so  that  many  of 
his  verses  are  known  to  this  day. 

The  rules  of  this  guild,  I  am  telling  you  about, 
were  somewhat  odd.  When  a  person  composed  a 
certain  number  of  tunes  he  was  called  a  singer. 
When  he  could  compose  the  words  to  fit  a  given 
piece  of  music,  he  was  called  a  poet.  And  when 
he  could  write  both  words  and  music  he  was  given 
the  title  of  Master  Singer,  spelled  in  capital  letters, 
and  mightily  proud  was  he  of  this  distinction!  Of 
course,  the  music  sung  before  this  society  had  to 
conform  to  set  principles  which  they  believed  right. 
But  this  was  the  great  trouble  with  such  societies; 
for  while  they  fostered  much  song- writing,  very  lit- 
tle of  it  was  original  or  different  from  the  tweedle- 
dum, tweedle-dee  which  had  gone  before. 

Nevertheless,  the  citizens  of  Nuremberg  were 
quite  vainglorious  over  their  guild,  and  believed  it 
turned  out  the  finest  singers  in  the  land.  Its  yearly 
contests  were  widely  attended,  and  great  was  the 
rivalry  each  year  to  secure  the  chief  prize,  which 
was  the  title  of  Master  Singer. 

But  great  as  had  been  the  contests  of  the  past, 
the  excitement  was  increased  tenfold  upon  a  day 


174  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

when  the  leading  goldsmith  of  the  city,  Veit  Pog- 
ner  by  name,  announced  a  special  prize  for  the  com- 
ing contest.  He  said  that  he  would  give  his  for- 
tune to  the  winner  and  also  bestow  upon  him  the 
hand  of  his  daughter  Eva.  But  one  proviso  was 
made  to  this  generous  offer:  the  suitor  must  be  to 
some  extent  suitable  to  Eva  herself.  By  this  means 
Herr  Pogner  hoped  not  only  to  bring  out  new  and 
great  musicians  at  the  contest,  but  also  to  wed  his 
daughter  only  to  a  Master  Singer — upon  which  last 
his  heart  had  been  set. 

Eva  herself  had  held  quite  different  ideas  on  the 
subjects  of  music  and  marriage.  A  light-hearted 
and  somewhat  coquettish  girl,  her  pretty  head  had 
been  interested  in  many  other  things  besides  the 
monotonous  singing  of  the  butcher  and  the  baker, 
or  the  pompous  airs  of  the  dried-up  little  town  clerk, 
Sixtus  Beckmesser,  who  had  long  aspired  in  secret 
for  her  favour. 

It  must  be  confessed,  indeed,  that  Eva  was  not 
always  as  sedate  as  she  might  be.  On  the  day 
when  our  story  opens,  she  had  attended  church  very 
dutifully,  but  her  eyes  had  wandered  from  her 
hymn-book  more  than  once  despite  the  energetic 
nudges  of  her  maid  Magdalen.  The  secret  of 
Eva's  inattention  was  revealed  at  the  close  of  the 
service  when,  as  they  turned  to  leave  the  church,  a 
handsome  young  knight  stepped  forward.  His 


THE  MASTER  SINGERS  175 

name  was  Walter  von  Stolzen,  and  although  he 
lived  in  an  adjoining  province,  this  was  not  the  first 
time  he  had  sought  speech  with  the  pretty  Eva. 

To-day  he  had  hastened  to  church  to  see  her  and 
ask  her  a  momentous  question.  He  had  heard  some 
rumours  of  her  father's  plan  to  wed  her  to  a  Mas- 
ter Singer  and  it  had  filled  his  heart  with  wild  un- 
rest. 

"A  word  with  you,  I  beseech,"  he  said  to  Eva 
in  a  low  tone  as  she  and  her  maid  drew  near  where 
he  stood. 

"Magdalen,  I  have  forgotten  my  kerchief,"  said 
Eva,  turning  to  the  maid.  "Will  you  not  see  if  it 
is  in  the  pew?" 

The  maid  went  in  search  of  the  missing  article 
and  presently  returned  with  it. 

"Oh,  I  am  so  careless  1"  exclaimed  her  mistress. 
"I  had  a  little  scarf-pin  on,  when  I  came  in.  See 
if  I  have  dropped  it  thereabouts." 

Magdalen  went  and  after  some  little  time  she 
came  back  with  the  pin. 

"Thank  you.  You  are  a  good  girl,"  said  Eva. 
"Now  if  you  will  find  where  I  have  left  my  prayer- 
book,  I  think  we  will  be  quite  ready  to  start." 

The  maid  returned  to  the  pew  a  third  time,  and 
when  she  brought  the  book,  her  mistress  appeared 
immensely  relieved.  So  did  the  handsome  young 
knight,  for,  as  you  may  guess,  he  had  been  making 


176  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

the  most  of  these  moments.  The  question  which 
had  so  troubled  him  and  which  he  had  found  time 
to  ask  Eva  was  this: 

"Has  your  father  promised  your  hand  in  mar- 
riage?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  mischievous  Eva;  but  seeing  how 
cast  down  her  reply  made  the  young  man,  she 
added,  "but  the  bridegroom  has  not  yet  been 
chosen." 

"Not  chosen?    How  can  you  be  promised  else?" 

Eva  laughed  teasingly,  but  as  the  maid  would 
soon  return  she  told  him  in  a  few  hurried  words 
about  the  contest  of  song. 

"It  is  to  be  held  to-morrow,"  she  ended,  "and 
whoever  is  declared  the  victor  and  Master  Singer 
will  also  win  my  hand — so  my  father  says." 

The  little  light  in  her  eyes  as  she  added  the  last 
words  would  have  set  Walter's  heart  still  farther 
at  rest,  if  he  had  seen  it ;  but  as  it  was,  his  first  keen 
anxiety  had  given  way  to  a  yet  keener  interest  in 
the  contest  of  the  morrow. 

"Tell  me  farther  of  the  singing,"  he  said  entreat- 
ingly;  "for  you  know  I  must  needs  take  part  in  it. 
My  whole  happiness  hangs  upon  the  result!" 

Eva  felt  her  cheeks  grow  red.  However  the 
maid  had  come  back  for  the  third  time,  and  she  saw 
no  excuse  to  tarry  longer. 

"Magdalen,"  she  said,  "this  gentleman — one  of 


THE  MASTER  SINGERS  177 

my  father's  friends — has  heard  about  the  song 
tournament  to-morrow.  Can  you  tell  him  any- 
thing about  it?"  And  Eva  gave  the  young  man 
a  smile  of  encouragement  and  left  the  church. 

Now  Magdalen  was  not  so  blind  as  her  mistress 
thought.  She  had  seen  the  knight  on  other  occa- 
sions and  had  liked  his  face  and  manner.  "That's 
a  good  match!"  she  had  whispered  within  herself. 
To-day  she  had  gone  back  to  the  pew  willingly 
enough,  for  her  mistress  wished  it.  Besides,  was 
not  David  the  sexton  back  there?  And  David  was 
a  likely  lad  himself,  albeit  he  was  somewhat  awk- 
ward. 

Magdalen  did  not  tarry  long  after  her  mistress. 
She  gave  the  knight  a  swift  look  out  of  her  black 
eyes  and  said: 

"There's  David — he  that's  the  sexton.  Go  ask 
him  about  the  contest  and  tell  him  Magdalen  sent 
you.  Belike  he  can  tell  you  all  about  it."  She 
then  curtseyed  and  hastened  after  Eva. 

Without  more  ado  the  knight  went  in  search  of 
the  sexton.  David  was  easily  found,  for  he  had 
seen  the  handsome  stranger  talking  with  Magdalen 
and  his  own  jealous  interest  had  been  aroused.  But 
when  Walter  greeted  him  courteously  and  stated 
his  errand,  David  grinned  and  pulled  at  a  shock 
of  sandy  hair. 

"Oho,  my  master!"  quoth  he,  "so  you  would 


178  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

thrum  a  harp  with  the  best  of  them  to-morrow! 
But  know  you  the  rules?" 

"No,  I  do  not,"  answered  Walter  a  trifle  impa- 
tiently, "and  that  is  what  I  would  learn,  an  it  please 
you." 

"Ah,  but  the  rules  are  the  chief  thing,  good  sir! 
They  are  not  to  be  learned  in  a  moment,  and  they 
are  more  important  than  the  song  itself.  No  one 
can  be  a  Master  Singer  unless  he  knows  the  rules 
by  heart.  I  have  been  learning  both  cobbling  and 
singing  from  Hans  Sachs,  the  shoemaker,  and  I  do 
assure  you,  sir,  it  is  no  easy  task." 

"But  can  you  tell  me  some  of  these  rules?"  per- 
sisted Walter. 

"That  can  I,  as  far  as  I've  gone,"  answered 
David.  "You  take  your  harp  so,  and  hold  it  so, 
and  you  thrum  a  chord  with  your  thumb  sticking 
up  in  the  air  like  this.  Then  you  thrust  one  knee 
out  in  advance  of  the  other  until  you  go  through 
your  first  measure,  which  must  have  so  many  beats 
and  pauses." 

"But  what  has  that  to  do  with  the  music?"  cried 
Walter,  almost  in  despair. 

"Oh,  everything,  I  guess!"  said  David;  "only 
that's  about  as  far  as  I've  studied.  But  I'll  tell  you 
what  to  do.  This  very  day  they  are  going  to  hold 
an  examination  here  in  this  chapel.  You  stay  and 
apply  for  admission  into  the  guild.  Then  you  will 


THE  MASTER  SINGERS  179 

see  the  rules  you  will  have  to  follow.  Here  come 
the  'prentices  now  to  get  the  chairs  in  readiness." 

As  he  spoke  a  number  of  young  men  came  in  and 
began  pushing  a  curtained  platform  out  into  the 
middle  of  the  room.  Around  it  they  placed  benches 
and  chairs. 

'  That  is  the  marker's  box,"  said  David,  point- 
ing to  the  platform. 

''What  is  it  for?"  asked  Walter. 

"Why  the  marker  sits  inside,  while  the  singing 
is  going  on,  and  marks  up  the  mistakes  on  a  slate. 
When  a  singer  has  seven  marks  against  him,  the 
marker  declares  he  is  outsung  and  outdone." 

The  astonished  knight  was  about  to  ask  other 
questions  when  the  door  opened  and  members  of 
the  guild  began  to  arrive.  Among  the  first  were 
Herr  Pogner  the  goldsmith  and  Sixtus  Beckmes- 
ser  the  town  clerk.  Beckmesser  was  to  be  marker 
and  his  usual  sense  of  importance  was  much  in- 
creased by  the  fact.  He  swelled  out  his  thin  chest 
and  strutted  grandly  by  the  goldsmith's  side,  tell- 
ing him  of  his  own  aspirations  in  the  coming  con- 
test. Beckmesser  was  bald-headed  and  a  widower 
who  had  seen  the  best  side  of  fifty  years,  yet  he  felt 
that  Eva  would  be  doing  well  if  she  got  him,,  es- 
pecially if  his  dignity  as  town  clerk  was  heightened 
by  that  of  Master  Singer.  But  when  he  saw  Wal- 
ter step  forward  and  greet  the  goldsmith,  who  re- 


180  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

ceived  him  kindly,  and  begin  to  ask  questions  about 
the  contest,  Beckmesser's  face  grew  glum,  and  he 
inwardly  resolved  that  if  this  young  fellow  tried 
to  enter  as  his  rival,  there  would  be  plenty  of  marks 
against  him  on  the  marker's  slate. 

Hans  Sachs  the  cobbler  and  all  the  other  mem- 
bers of  the  guild  now  having  taken  their  places,  the 
roll  was  called  by  Beckmesser.  Then  Herr  Pog- 
ner  arose  and  stated  the  terms  of  the  contest  for 
the  ensuing  day,  and  repeated  his  offer  to  give  his 
fortune  and  daughter  to  the  winner  of  the  prize. 
He  continued: 

"It  is  our  purpose  this  day  to  enter  candidates 
for  the  contest.  So  I  have  the  pleasure  of  present- 
ing one  who  has  but  now  arrived  and  who  hands  me 
good  letters  from  friends  of  mine  in  the  neighbour- 
ing state  of  Franconia.  His  name  is  Walter  von 
Stolzen." 

Walter  stood  forward,  and  the  members  of  the 
guild  eyed  him  solemnly. 

"Who  taught  you  the  art  of  music?"  asked  one. 

"Nature  has  been  my  teacher,"  answered  the 
young  man  modestly.  "I  have  heard  her  voice  in 
the  rustling  leaves,  the  babbling  brook,  and  the 
singing  birds." 

"Humph!"  said  Beckmesser.  "But  who  has 
taught  you  the  rules?" 

"I  have  known  very  few  rules  save  only  such  as 


THE  MASTER  SINGERS  181 

were  taught  me  by  Walter  von  der  Vogelweide." 

"A  good  master!"  said  the  genial  Hans  Sachs. 

"But  long  since  dead!  So  what  could  he  know 
of  our  rules?"  grumbled  Beckmesser. 

After  further  questions  and  quibbling  on  the  part 
of  the  members,  they  agreed  to  give  the  knight 
a  trial  and  judge  for  themselves.  So  Beckmesser 
climbed  into  his  curtained  platform  with  alacrity, 
and  Walter  was  asked  to  begin  his  song. 

Walter  did  so,  singing  a  sweet  tender  melody  of 
his  own,  which  he  had  undoubtedly  composed  to 
the  accompaniment  of  the  whispering  winds.  For 
while  it  was  beautiful  and  original  it  paid  no  at- 
tention whatever  to  the  artificial  rules  of  the  guild. 
Before  he  had  sung  two  measures,  Beckmesser 
thrust  his  head  out  of  the  curtain  crying, 

"Stop,  stop!  you  are  outsung  and  outdone!" 

And  the  clerk  showed  a  slate  covered  with  marks. 

"You  should  have  let  him  finish  his  song,"  said 
Hans  Sachs.  "For  my  part,  I  thought  it  had  great 
merit." 

"No  one  asked  for  your  opinion,"  said  the  clerk 
rudely.  "If  you  do  not  know  more  than  that  about 
singing,  you  would  better  stick  to  your  last  and 
finish  that  pair  of  shoes  you  promised  me  to-mor- 
row." 

Hans  Sachs  laughed  good-naturedly,  but  insisted 
that  the  singer  be  allowed  to  finish.  Others  took 


182  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

up  the  argument,  and  Walter  finally  ended  the 
song,  though  amid  some  confusion. 

But  the  verdict  at  the  last,  given  with  much  sol- 
emn shaking  of  the  heads,  fell  like  lead  upon  Wal- 
ter's hopes. 

"Outsung  and  outdone!"  they  said. 

So  Walter  was  denied  membership  in  the  guild, 
and  the  chance  of  winning  Eva's  hand  seemed  slim 
indeed.  v 

The  only  member  who  had  been  friendly  to  the 
young  knight  was  Hans  Sachs.  This  jolly  cobbler 
lived  just  across  the  street  from  the  goldsmith — 
his  modest  shop  standing  in  sharp  contrast  to  Herr 
Pogner's  stately  mansion. 

That  same  evening  while  David  the  apprentice 
was  keeping  shop  during  his  master's  absence,  a 
woman  came  cautiously  out  of  the  side  gate  of  the 
mansion  with  a  basket  on  her  arm,  and  approached 
him. 

"Good-evening,  David,"  she  said. 

"Good-evening,  Lena,"  he  answered,  for  it  was 
Magdalen  the  maid.  "What  have  you  got  in  your 
basket?" 

"Look  and  see,"  she  said,  tipping  the  lid. 

What  he  saw  made  his  eyes  grow  large.  There 
were  cookies  and  doughnuts  and  pretzels  so  tempt- 
ing that  he  at  once  forgot  his  own  late  supper. 


THE  MASTER  SINGERS  183 

"Who  are  they  for?"  he  asked. 

"Let  me  ask  you  a  question  first.  How  did  it 
go  with  the  young  knight  to-day?" 

"Why,  marry,  he  was  declared  outdone  and  out- 
sung." 

"Are  you  sure?  Didn't  you  help  him  and  teach 
him  the  rules  as  I  told  you  to?" 

"Marry,  that  did  I.  But  he  didn't  sing  my  way 
and  the  judges — " 

"A  plague  upon  you  and  the  judges!"  exclaimed 
the  maid  much  disturbed.  "I  will  just  take  my 
cookies  back  home."  And  away  she  flounced,  leav- 
ing David  staring  open-mouthed  at  the  vanishing 
dainties. 

Some  other  'prentices  who  had  been  hiding  be- 
hind the  corner  no  sooner  saw  David's  discomfiture 
than  they  raised  a  shout  and  began  to  make  all  man- 
ner of  fun  at  his  expense.  They  were  a  merry  lot 
of  rogues — these  'prentices — and  lost  no  chance 
when  their  masters'  backs  were  turned  to  get  into 
mischief.  Now  as  they  began  to  dance  around 
David  he  lost  his  temper  and,  willing  to  vent  his 
rage  upon  some  one,  he  fell  to  fighting  the  whole 
crowd.  The  noise  was  becoming  uproarious  when 
suddenly  a  stout  man  with  ruddy  cheeks  strode 
briskly  round  the  corner. 

"Here  you  boys!"  he  shouted.  "Be  off  home, 
every  mother's  son  of  you !  And  David,  if  I  catch 


184  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

you  fighting  out  here  in  the  street  again,  you  will 
have  to  hunt  other  shoes  to  cobble." 

"They  began  it,  sir!"  whined  David,  while  the 
other  boys  lost  no  time  in  taking  to  their  heels. 

"That  makes  no  difference,"  said  Hans  Sachs. 
"Get  in  with  you,  and  help  me  finish  those  shoes  for 
Herr  Beckmesser." 

David  scratched  his  head  ruefully,  but  obeyed  his 
master;  and  soon  the  light  streamed  out  from  the 
little  shop,  and  the  cobbler's  lusty  blows  were  heard 
along  the  street,  keeping  time  to  a  song  of  his  own 
making. 

Across  the  way  there  was  one  heart  that  was  much 
cast  down.  Eva  had  learned  from  Magdalen  the 
result  of  Walter's  trial,  and  so  she  now  approached 
her  father  in  regard  to  the  next  day's  festival.  She 
did  not,  of  course,  mention  the  knight's  name,  but 
she  asked  about  those  who  were  to  sing,  and  timidly 
suggested  that  perhaps  she  need  not  marry  a  Mas- 
ter Singer  after  all,  if  he  did  not  suit  either  of  them. 
But  her  father  seemed  more  determined  than  ever, 
though  he  could  not  help  wondering  secretly,  if  she 
had  heard  about  the  young  knight. 

As  she  left  her  father,  Eva  heard  the  cobbler 
pounding  away,  and  so  she  determined  to  find  out 
if  he  knew  anything  about  the  contest.  Hans 
Sachs  had  just  dismissed  his  apprentice  for  the 
night  when  Eva  tripped  lightly  to  the  door  and 
looked  in. 


THE  MASTER  SINGERS  185 

"A  good-evening  to  you,  old  Peg-at-work,"  said 
she  saucily.' 

"Why,  'tis  my  little  Eva!"  he  exclaimed,  his 
broad  face  smiling  a  welcome ;  for  she  was  a  special 
pet  of  his. 

"What  makes  you  work  so — pound,  pound, 
pound! — so  that  your  neighbours  cannot  sleep?" 

"I  am  finishing  two  pairs  of  shoes :  one  for  your 
little  feet  to  wear  to-morrow  at  the  festival;  and 
the  other  for  the  worthy  Sixtus  Beckmesser  who 
aspires  to  outsing  us  all." 

"Oh,  he  can't  do  that,  you  know!"  said  Eva, 
laughing,  but  tossing  her  head  uneasily.  "Before 
we'd  let  him  do  that,  you  and  I,  why  I  would  get 
you  to  mount  the  stump  and  outsing  him.  And 
then  just  think  what  a  nice  old  husband  you  would 
be!" 

Hans  Sachs  laughed  heartily  at  her  banter.  He 
had  known  her  all  her  life  and  was  used  to  her 
ways  by  now.  But  he  decided  to  set  a  trap  and 
find  out  just  where  her  affections  lay. 

"You  have  already  had  one  narrow  escape  to- 
day," he  said  shrewdly.  "There  was  a  likely-look- 
ing young  gallant  up  before  the  guild  trying  to 
sing.  His  name  was  Walter  something-or-other, 
and  he  wanted  to  enter  the  contest  to-morrow.  But 
bless  you!  he  couldn't  sing — and  it's  a  good  thing 
for  you  that  he  couldn't.  I'll  warrant  he's  an  idle 


186  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

fellow  that  will  never  amount  to  a  side  of  sole- 
leather!" 

"What  do  you  know  about  him?"  burst  forth  Eva 
indignantly.  "I'll  warrant  your  stupid  crowd 
never  gave  him  half  a  chance  to  sing.  You  ought 
to  be  ashamed  of  yourselves!" 

But  just  then  she  caught  sight  of  the  broad  grin 
upon  the  cobbler's  face  and  realised  she  was  betray- 
ing herself.  Her  cheeks  reddened,  and  she  turned 
and  fled  across  the  street,  while  Hans  Sachs  chuck- 
led in  great  glee  over  the  success  of  his  scheme. 

This  was  not  the  only  game  the  shoemaker  played 
that  evening,  as  you  shall  presently  see.  For  just 
then  Walter  came  along  the  street  looking  for  Eva. 
He  had  found  opportunity  to  send  word  through 
Magdalen  that  he  was  coming,  so  Eva  was  on  the 
lookout  for  him.  But  fearful  lest  her  father  should 
see  her  leaving  the  house,  she  had  changed  dresses 
with  her  maid;  and  it  was  as  Magdalen  that  she 
now  hastened  out  to  join  her  lover. 

But  Hans  Sachs'  keen  eyes,  right  across  the  way, 
were  not  to  be  deceived.  He  recognised  both  the 
young  people  at  once ;  and  as  they  drew  under  the 
shade  of  a  linden  tree  that  grew  near  his  door,  he 
was  able  to  hear  most  of  their  words.  He  heard 
Walter  tell  Eva  of  his  ill  success  that  day,  and  how 
he  would  not  be  able  to  compete  on  the  morrow  be- 
cause of  a  lot  of  musty  old  rules.  Walter,  in  fact, 


THE  MASTER  SINGERS  187 

was  in  despair  and  he  now  proposed  the  only  way 
out  that  seemed  possible  to  him. 

"You  must  go  away  with  me,  dear  Eva,  this  very 
night,"  he  urged.  "We  will  get  the  good  minister 
on  the  farther  side  of  the  town  to  marry  us,  and  I 
have  horses  and  coach  in  waiting.  By  the  time  the 
sun  rises  on  that  contest  we  will  be  miles  away  from 
Nuremberg  and  nearing  my  old  home  in  Fran- 
conia.  Will  you  not  come?" 

Eva  hesitated.  She  loved  her  father  and  did  not 
want  to  bring  him  sorrow.  But  then  that  odious 
Beckmesser,  or  some  other  man  who  might  become 
Master  Singer! — Yes,  she  would  go  to  the  ends  of 
the  world  with  her  dear  Walter,  she  said. 

Hans  Sachs  shook  his  head  when  he  heard  this. 
These  foolish  children  must  be  held  in  check.  So 
he  arose  and  made  as  though  he  were  opening  the 
shutter  of  his  door,  at  the  same  time  setting  his 
lamp  in  such  a  way  that  it  threw  a  broad  beam  of 
light  across  the  street.  Walter  and  Eva  would 
have  to  cross  the  lighted  space,  and  this  he  knew 
they  would  not  attempt,  lest  they  should  be  seen. 

The  cobbler  was  unexpectedly  aided  in  his  ruse 
by  the  appearance  of  Beckmesser.  The  town  clerk 
had  decided  to  serenade  Eva  in  the  most  approved 
style,  by  way  of  proving  his  devotion  and  also  show- 
ing what  he  could  do  on  the  morrow. 

While  the  two  young  people  crouched  still  farther 


188  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

behind  the  tree,  Beckmesser  struck  his  harp  vigor- 
ously and  cleared  his  throat  with  a  loud  ahem !  pre- 
paratory to  launching  forth  upon  his  ditty.  But 
before  he  could  get  started,  Hans  Sachs  began 
pounding  again  upon  his  last,  whack,  whack,  whack! 
to  the  tune  of  a  hearty  cobbling-song. 

"By  all  the  powers!"  groaned  the  clerk  disgust- 
edly. Then  he  called  to  the  shoemaker,  "Here, 
you,  Hans  Sachs!  Don't  you  know  you  are  dis- 
turbing the  peace?  Why  don't  you  do  all  your 
work  in  the  daytime?" 

"Oh,  I'm  just  working  a  little  to-night  to  finish 
up  that  pair  of  shoes  you  were  so  anxious  to  have 
to-morrow,"  retorted  Hans  Sachs;  "and  I  always 
sing  at  my  work.  It  makes  it  go  better." 

Thereupon  he  began  in  a  louder  voice  than  ever. 

Beckmesser  was  at  his  wits'  end.  He  had  sent 
word  to  Eva  that  he  was  coming  to  serenade  her. 
Now  he  was  afraid,  in  his  conceit,  that  she  would 
mistake  the  cobbler's  song  for  his  own.  Just  then 
Magdalen  appeared  at  an  upper  window  in  Eva's 
dress.  Beckmesser  waved  frantically  to  her  and 
threw  a  kiss.  Then  he  turned  to  the  cobbler. 

"I'll  tell  you  what,  Hans  Sachs,  you  needn't 
mind  about  those  shoes,  to-morrow.  I'm  afraid  the 
neighbours  will  make  complaint  against  you." 

"No,  indeed,"  replied  the  cobbler,  "they  don't 
mind  about  my  singing.  They  say  it  soothes 
them." 


THE  MASTER  SINGERS  189 

"Well,  speaking  of  singing,"  persisted  the  clerk, 
"perhaps  you  would  like  to  hear  my  new  song  that 
I  have  just  composed  and  intend  to  sing  to-mor- 
row. Shall  I  go  over  it  for  you?" 

"On  one  condition,  and  that  is,  to  allow  me  to 
make  note  of  every  error  by  tapping  upon  my  shoes. 
Thus  I  can  criticise  you  and  get  my  work  done  at 
the  same  time." 

"Agreed,"  said  the  clerk,  and  began  his  song. 
But  he  was  so  nervous  and  irritated  that  his  mis- 
takes became  more  and  more  frequent.  The  cob- 
bler's taps  became  hammering,  and  the  hammering 
a  constant  clattering,  while  Beckmesser  tried  in 
vain  to  sing  against  the  noise.  Finally  the  uproar 
became  so  loud  that  windows  were  opened  all  along 
the  street  to  see  what  was  the  trouble. 

David  was  one  of  the  first  ones  to  look  out  upon 
the  scene.  His  jealous  eyes  saw  Beckmesser  sing- 
ing or  rather  shouting  toward  the  window  where 
Magdalen  stood,  and  his  rage  was  kindled  in  an 
instant.  Springing  from  the  window  to  the  ground 
he  seized  the  unlucky  clerk  and  began  to  beat  him 
soundly  with  a  cudgel.  The  other  apprentices,  al- 
ways ready  for  a  fight,  came  rushing  forth  and,  tak- 
ing sides,  joined  in  a  general  fisticuff. 

Walter  and  Eva  tried  to  take  advantage  of  the 
tumult  to  effect  their  escape,  but  Hans  Sachs  was 
too  quick  for  them.  Pretending  to  mistake  Eva 


190  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

for  Magdalen  he  thrust  her  toward  her  own  home, 
whose  door  was  just  then  opened,  and  Herr  Pog- 
ner,  crying,  "Lena!"  pulled  her  within  and  closed 
the  door.  At  the  same  moment,  Hans  Sachs 
dragged  Walter  into  his  own  shop  just  as  the  sound 
of  the  approaching  night-watch  was  heard.  As  if 
by  magic  the  street  was  cleared  of  brawlers,  and 
when  the  watchman  sang  in  a  sonorous  voice,  "Ten 
o'clock  and  all's  well!"  there  was  nothing  in  sight 
to  dispute  his  assertion. 

The  morning  of  the  festival  dawned  clear  and 
bright.  The  friendly  sun  streaming  through  the 
open  door  into  the  cobbler's  shop  seemed  to  give 
promise  of  a  perfect  day.  The  cobbler  was  up 
early  for  he  had  a  good  many  singing  rules  to  look 
over  before  the  time  of  the  contest.  While  he  was 
busily  turning  over  the  pages  of  a  huge  book  David 
came  sneaking  in  bearing  a  basket  which  looked 
suspiciously  like  the  one  his  Lena  had  carried  the 
evening  before.  Seating  himself  in  a  distant  cor- 
ner he  began  to  busy  himself  with  its  contents,  all 
the  while  watching  his  master  with  furtive  glances. 
But  Sachs  was  so  intent  upon  his  book  that  he  paid 
no  heed  to  his  apprentice.  This  also  made  David 
uncomfortable.  He  thought  his  master  was  angry 
with  him  for  the  brawling  of  the  night  before;  so 
he  now  tried  to  make  his  peace  by  offering  some  of 


THE  MASTER  SINGERS  191 

the  dainties  to  the  cobbler.  They  were  good-na- 
turedly refused,  Hans  Sachs  telling  the  young  man 
to  keep  them  for  himself  to  eat  at  the  festival. 
Then  after  hearing  him  sing  his  morning  song, 
David  was  given  his  freedom  for  the  day  and  joy- 
fully departed. 

Presently  another  person  entered  the  shop,  and 
this  time  the  shoemaker  looked  up  quickly. 

"Why  good-morrow,  Sir  Walter.  Did  you  sleep 
well?"  he  asked  kindly. 

"Aye,  what  sleep  I  had  was  good,  and  thank 
you,"  replied  the  knight.  "How  was  it  with 
you?" 

"Oh,  so,  so!  There  were  so  many  serenades  and 
lovers'  meetings,  the  early  part  of  the  evening,  that 
I  lost  some  of  my  rest — but  not  enough  to  hurt." 

The  young  knight  smiled  at  his  banter,  then  re- 
marked : 

"I  had  a  marvellous  sweet  dream." 

"Pray  tell  it  to  me." 

"I  am  not  able  to  do  that,  for  it  came  to  me  as  a 
song." 

"Then  sing  it,"  urged  the  cobbler. 

"What  is  the  good  of  my  singing?"  replied  Wal- 
ter moodily.  "  'Tis  not  for  me  to  sing  upon  this 
day  above  all  others  when  my  song  might  have  been 
of  some  service." 

"Tut,  tut,  my  friend,"  said  Hans  Sachs.     "You 


192  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

must  not  take  things  so  hardly.  We  may  yet  find 
some  way  of  making  one  of  your  songs  count.  Now 
do  you  sing  me  this  one  and  I  will  mark  down  the 
errors  in  it,  and  show  you  why  they  are  errors. 
Thus  you  will  soon  learn,  perchance,  how  to  sing 
a  Master  Song." 

"But  that  soon  will  be  too  late." 

"Come  let  us  have  the  song." 

So  while  the  cobbler  took  paper  and  pen  and 
prepared  to  set  down  the  words  as  well  as  the  mis- 
takes, Walter  began  to  sing: 

"The  morning  dawned  with  rosy  light; 
The  scented  air — 
With  flowers  rare — 
A  vision  of  beauty  rose  to  my  sight; 
A  garden  a-gleam 
This  was  my  dream !" 

"Good,  good!"  said  Hans  Sachs  heartily.  "That 
is  all  right.  Now  you  must  be  careful  to  have  the 
next  stanza  just  like  that;  the  same  number  of 
measures  and  beats." 

Walter  began  again: 

"There  in  the  garden  stood  a  tree, 
A  wondrous  sight 
Of  rich  delight: 

Its  boughs  full-fruited,  wide  and  free, 
All  golden  did  seem 
In  this  my  dream!" 


THE  MASTER  SINGERS 


193 


"Upon  my  word!"  cried  the  cobbler  delightedly. 
"You  have  got  the  beginning  of  a  rare  good  song 
there!  And  it  conforms  to  all  the  rules!  Now  if 
you  will  complete  it  as  well  as  you  have  begun  it, 
and  be  careful  to  keep  the  measures  just  as  I  have 
set  them  down,  you  will  win  the  next  contest  you 
try." 

"But  I  have  forgotten  the  rest  of  my  dream," 
said  Walter. 

"Never  mind.  Perhaps  it  will  come  to  you 
later,"  replied  the  cobbler.  "You  have  made  a 
fine  start."  And  giving  him  a  few  other  sugges- 
tions, he  then  bade  his  guest  come  into  the  living- 
rooms  and  don  some  festival  finery.  Walter 
obeyed,  though  he  felt  anything  but  merry  over 
the  occasion. 

While  they  were  absent  from  the  room,  who 
should  come  in  but  Beckmesser.  His  vanity  had 
led  him  to  come  after  his  new  shoes,  if  perchance 
they  were  ready;  and  now  seeing  that  the  shop  was 
empty  he  began  to  prowl  about  to  see  what  he 
might  discover.  Soon  his  eye  lighted  upon  the 
fresh  copy  of  verses  which  Hans  Sachs  had  left  be- 
hind on  the  cobbler's  bench.  He  read  them,  saw 
their  value,  and  decided  to  pocket  them  to  use  for 
himself.  But  the  cobbler  returning  just  then  upset 
him  somewhat,  and  he  resolved  to  brazen  it  out. 

"I  thought  you  said  you  were  not  going  to  take 
o 


194  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

part  in  the  contest,"  said  the  clerk  blusteringly. 

"I  meant  it.  I  am  not,"  replied  Hans  Sachs 
quietly. 

"But  I  have  proof  that  you  are." 

"What  proof?" 

"Why,  this  poem  I  have  found  on  your  bench." 

"Hum.     Then  how  did  it  get  into  your  pocket?" 

"That  doesn't  matter.  You  were  intending  to 
use  it  against  me,"  sputtered  Beckmesser,  growing 
more  and  more  red  in  the  face. 

"No,  I  wasn't  going  to  use  it  against  you.  I  re- 
peat, I  am  not  going  to  sing." 

Beckmesser  looked  at  him  a  moment  in  a  sly  way 
and  then  suddenly  began  to  wheedle. 

"You  and  I  have  always  been  good  friends,  Herr 
Sachs.  I  pray  you  to  forgive  me  if  I  said  any- 
thing hasty.  I  expect  I  shall  need  a  good  many 
shoes  this  winter.  Now  have  you  any  objection  to 
my  using  this  song?" 

"No,  I  haven't  any  objection,"  replied  Hans 
Sachs  with  a  smile. 

"And  you  won't  claim  it  as  yours?" 

"No,  I  won't  claim  it  as  mine." 

"You  are  a  good-hearted  friend!"  cried  the  clerk, 
fairly  hugging  him  in  his  delight,  and  then  capering 
out  of  the  door  with  his  verses. 

"And  you  are  an  evil-hearted  fool!"  said  Sachs, 
looking  after  him.  "But  the  pit  you  fall  into  will 
be  of  your  own  digging." 


THE  MASTER  SINGERS  195 

The  cobbler  knew  that  the  clerk  would  never  be 
able  to  find  the  right  tune  to  fit  the  words,  and 
that  he  was  liable  to  forget  even  the  words.  So  he 
felt  no  uneasiness  when  Beckmesser  took  them 
away  with  him. 

The  next  visitor  to  his  workshop  was  Eva,  look- 
ing very  winsome  in  her  festival  attire  of  white. 
She  had  come  over  to  see  what  had  become  of  Wal- 
ter, though  she  had  made  another  excuse  for  her 
errand. 

"Herr  Sachs,"  she  said,  answering  his  jovial 
greeting,  "I  came  over  to  see  what  was  the  matter 
with  one  of  these  shoes  you  finished  for  me  last 
night.  It  does  not  feel  comfortable." 

She  placed  one  small  foot  upon  a  rest,  and  the 
cobbler  knelt  to  see  what  was  the  matter.  But  he 
did  not  discover  it  until  Walter,  dressed  in  the  rich 
garb  of  a  knight,  entered  the  room. 

"Ah,  that  is  where  the  shoe  pinches!"  he  ex- 
claimed quietly;  and  willing  to  allow  the  young 
people  a  few  minutes  to  themselves  he  took  off  the 
shoe  and  went  chuckling  to  his  last,  where  he  began 
to  hammer  furiously.  But  seeing  that  the  two  oth- 
ers were  rather  shy  in  his  presence  he  paused  and 
looked  up. 

"Mistress  Eve,"  he  said,  "I  take  back  what  I 
said  about  this  young  man  not  being  able  to  sing. 
He  sang  me  a  fine  song  awhile  ago,  but  the  last  part 


196  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

was  lacking.    Perhaps  he  will  sing  it   for  you 
through  to  the  end." 

Thus  encouraged  and  looking  Eva  in  the  face 
Walter  began  his  song  again.  He  sang  the  first 
two  stanzas  just  as  the  cobbler  had  set  them  down; 
then  gaining  inspiration  from  his  sweetheart's  pres- 
ence he  added  a  beautiful  third  part  filled  with  the 
hopes  of  love  and  desires  of  fame : — 

"Lingered  the  stars  in  dance  of  delight 
And  rested  there 
Upon  the  hair 

Of  a  maiden  lovely,  star-bedight ! 
The  light  of  day 
Had  twofold  ray — 

"Her  eyes — bright  suns — on  me  shone  down 

With  splendour  sweet. 

In  bliss  complete 
I  saw  her  take  her  heavenly  crown — 

Both  Fame  and  Love 

Came  from  above! 
Ah,  blest  was  I  with  joy  extreme 

In  Love's  sweet  dream!" 

"Hark,  child!"  exclaimed  Sachs  to  Eva,  who  had 
been  listening  as  if  enchanted.  "That  is  a  true 
Master  Song  I  Come,  put  on  your  shoe!  Doesn't 
it  feel  better?  You  don't  hear  songs  like  that  every 
day,  even  in  Nuremberg!" 

But  Eva  was  so  overcome  with  her  emotions  that 


THE  MASTER  SINGERS  197 

she  leaned  her  head  upon  the  good  shoemaker's 
shoulder  and  burst  into  tears. 

"Tut,  tut!"  said  he.  "You  know  that  the  song 
wasn't  as  bad  as  all  that !  And  as  for  you,  master 
poet,  rest  easy  about  the  contest!  Just  put  your- 
self in  my  hands  and  we  will  see  if  we  cannot  still 
show  the  guild  a  few  points  about  singing.  Hark 
you,  David!"  (to  his  apprentice  who  had  entered 
while  the  song  was  in  progress)  "bear  witness  with 
us  that  this  is  an  original  song  belonging  to  Sir 
Walter  and  to  none  other.  But.  you  cannot  bear 
witness,  being  an  apprentice;  so  I  herewith  make 
you  a  journeyman!" 

He  accompanied  these  words  with  a  sound  slap 
on  the  ear,  which  was  the  quaint  custom  of  releas- 
ing apprentices,  and  David  overjoyed  thanked  him 
and  hopped  first  on  one  foot  and  then  on  the  other 
across  the  street  to  tell  Lena  his  good  fortune. 

We  will  now  leave  the  shoemaker's  shop,  where 
so  many  things  have  happened,  and  go  with  the 
throng  of  merrymakers  to  a  broad  grassy  meadow 
lying  just  outside  of  Nuremberg.  The  whole  town 
seems  to  be  wending  its  way  there,  the  'prentices 
and  their  lasses,  ribbon-decked,  dancing  on  ahead, 
the  burghers  and  their  wives  walking  more  sedately 
in  the  rear.  These  annual  festivals  were  in  fact 
noted  for  miles  around ;  and  the  news  of  Herr  Pog- 


198  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

ner's  offer  on  the  present  event  was  bringing  rec- 
ord-breaking crowds. 

Before  the  singing  began,  a  dance  was  held  upon 
the  green.  In  and  out  the  merry  parties  weaved  in 
May-pole  fashion  until  a  cry  arose,  "The  Master 
Singers!  the  Master  Singers!"  and  everybody  fell 
back  respectfully  to  make  way  for  the  members  of 
the  guild.  Two  by  two  they  filed  in,  looking  very 
important  and  taking  seats  reserved  for  them  upon 
a  stage. 

Last  of  all  came  Herr  Pogner,  with  his  daughter 
leaning  upon  his  arm,  and  Hans  Sachs  and  Walter. 
You  may  be  sure  there  were  many  curious  glances 
directed  toward  the  white-robed  girl  whose  hand 
had  been  promised  to  the  victor  of  the  day,  but  she 
bore  the  ordeal  bravely,  albeit  blushingly.  The 
handsome  knight  walking  along  with  the  shoe- 
maker also  came  in  for  his  share  of  attention,  and 
"Who  can  he  be?"  was  on  many  lips,  especially 
those  of  the  maidens. 

Hans  Sachs  was  Master  of  Ceremonies  for  the 
day.  He  was  one  of  the  most  widely  beloved  men 
in  all  Nuremberg  town ;  so  a  hearty  cheer  went  up 
as  he  came  to  the  front  of  the  platform  to  address 
the  throng.  In  a  neat  little  speech  he  told  the  pur- 
pose of  the  festival  and  spoke  of  the  high  regard 
in  which  the  occasion  had  been  held  in  the  past. 
He  spoke  of  the  conditions  governing  the  contest, 


THE  MASTER  SINGERS  199 

and  of  the  unusual  prize  offered  by  his  esteemed 
fellow-townsman  and  neighbour  to  the  victor  of  the 
day.  At  this  there  was  still  louder  cheering  by  the 
crowd  and  still  more  blushing  on  the  part  of  Eva. 
When  the  applause  subsided,  the  speaker  concluded 
his  remarks  by  saying  that  the  contest  was  now 
open  to  any  one,  and  the  first  singer  to  present  him- 
self would  be  listened  to. 

As  Hans  Sachs  ceased  speaking,  and  the  final 
applause  ended,  there  was  a  tremendous  craning  of 
necks  to  see  who  would  be  the  first  candidate.  With 
a  bow  and  a  smirk,  Beckmesser  lost  no  time  in  com- 
ing forward.  He  was  dressed  with  fantastic  care, 
and  as  he  clambered  painfully  up  the  steps  to  the 
singer's  platform,  people  nudged  one  another  and 
smiled.  One  pert  young  girl  said  to  another, 
"What I  that  old  fool?"  and  the  other  replied, 
"Wonder  what  his  first  wife  would  think  of  his 
capers?" 

However,  the  town  clerk  did  not  hear  any  of 
these  and  other  comments,  but  began  thrumming 
the  harp  he  carried,  by  way  of  a  prelude.  Then  he 
lifted  up  his  voice  and  sang — and  such  singing! 
He  had  tried  at  the  last  moment  to  adapt  a  tune  of 
his  own  to  Walter's  poem.  The  tune  did  not  suit 
the  words,  and  moreover  he  had  not  had  time  to 
memorise  them  well — just  as  the  shrewd  cobbler 
had  anticipated.  He  stumbled  in  the  lines  and 


200  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

tried  to  refresh  his  memory  by  looking  slyly  at  the 
written  copy  he  held  in  his  harp  hand.  The  result 
was  a  strange  jumble  of  poem,  song,  and  sense. 
So  ludicrous  was  the  ending  that  the  people  did  not 
try  to  keep  within  bounds,  but  laughed  aloud  right 
in  the  unlucky  singer's  face. 

Beckmesser  was  filled  with  shame  and  rage  at  the 
way  his  song  had  ended.  Willing  to  put  the  blame 
upon  some  one  else  if  he  could,  he  threw  the  paper 
at  Sachs'  feet  exclaiming: 

"Well,  at  any  rate,  it  was  not  my  song!  There 
is  the  man  you  have  been  ridiculing — your  dear 
Hans  Sachs!" 

The  cobbler  arose  and  quietly  picked  up  the  pa- 
per. 

"No,"  he  said,  "this  song  is  none  of  mine." 

"Do  you  deny,"  raged  the  other,  "that  it  is  your 
writing  and  I  found  it  in  your  workshop?" 

"I  do  not  deny  it,  but,  as  I  told  you,  I  will  not 
claim  it  as  mine ;  for  it  is  not." 

Then  seeing  that  the  people,  as  well  as  Beck- 
messer, were  interested  in  what  he  had  to  say,  he 
turned  to  them  and  told  them  the  true  history  of 
the  song — how  that  a  young  knight  had  composed 
and  sung  it  to  him  only  that  morning.  He  had 
merely  written  down  the  words  which  had  later 
been  seized  upon  by  Beckmesser,  who  had  now  tried 
to  fit  them  to  a  tune  of  his  own. 


THE  MASTER  SINGERS  201 

Beckmesser  interrupted  him  here.  He  saw  that 
he  himself  was  standing  upon  very  thin  ice  and  it 
behooved  him  to  bluster  it  out. 

"A  pretty  story  this!"  he  cried.  "The  young 
knight  of  whom  he  speaks  was  publicly  discredited 
before  all  our  guild  only  yesterday.  He  does  not 
know  how  to  write  such  a  song  as  I  have  sung!" 

"Thank  Heaven  that  he  doesn't!"  retorted  Sachs, 
amid  general  laughter.  In  a  moment  he  continued, 
"Now  I  crave  the  indulgence  of  every  one  here 
present.  You  have  known  me  to  be  just  with  every 
man.  All  I  ask  of  you  is  to  be  allowed  to  prove 
what  I  say.  The  true  owner  of  this  song  is  present 
here  to-day  and  desires  to  sing  it  in  the  contest. 
Then  you  shall  be  the  judge  as  to  whether  it  be  his 
or  Beckmesser's." 

"Yes,  yes;  let  him  come  forward!"  came  an  an- 
swering shout. 

Hans  Sachs  turned  and  looked  inquiringly  at  the 
members  of  the  guild.  They  likewise  nodded  ap- 
proval. Indeed,  they  would  hardly  have  dared  do 
otherwise,  even  if  they  had  been  so  disposed,  in  the 
face  of  the  popular  desire.  Then  the  Master  of 
Ceremonies  beckoned  to  Walter,  and  every  eye  was 
fastened  upon  him  while  he  rose,  bowed  gracefully 
and  walked  toward  the  stage.  As  for  Beckmesser 
he  took  advantage  of  the  moment  to  slink  away 
without  waiting  for  his  rival,  and  he  was  not  seen 
again  that  day! 


202  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

Before  Walter  began  his  song,  Hans  Sachs  gave 
the  paper  to  members  upon  the  stage. 

"Masters,"  he  said,  "I  pray  you  note  well  this 
song — errors  and  all — and  see  if  it  be  not  indeed  a 
Master  Song!" 

During  the  most  intense  silence  Walter  opened 
his  lips  and  began  the  refrain  of  the  morning.  The 
first  two  stanzas  were  sung  even  more  sweetly  than 
he  had  sung  them  before,  while  the  third  and 
fourth — not  even  known  to  the  clerk — proved  a 
marvellously  fitting  close.  As  the  last  notes  of  the 
harp  died  away  to  the  thrill  of  his  rich  voice  the 
audience,  masters,  burghers,  'prentices  and  all, 
stood  for  a  moment  spellbound.  Then  like  the 
crashing  of  a  mighty  wave  upon  the  shore  the  ap- 
plause broke.  They  shouted,  they  cried,  they 
clapped  their  hands,  they  flung  their  hats  into  the 
air — even  the  most  sedate  of  them — while  their  joy 
seemed  to  know  no  bounds. 

For  the  Master  Song  had  been  sung!  the  event 
to  this  music-loving  people  would  go  down  into 
history. 

When  order  was  in  some  measure  restored  Hans 
Sachs  asked  if  there  was  another  contestant.  (He 
did  not  need  to  ask  the  verdict  on  the  song.)  No 
one  else  presented  himself;  and  Herr  Pogner  walk- 
ing forward  publicly  declared  Walter  von  Stolzen 
a  Master  Singer  and  made  him  a  member  of  the 
guild  of  Nuremberg. 


Walter  began  his  song 


THE  MASTER  SINGERS 


203 


"Personally,  I  am  proud  and  delighted  to  wel- 
come you  among  us  and  proclaim  you  victor,"  he 
said,  genially,  "and  as  to  my  daughter's  hand,  I 
leave  you  to  plead  your  cause  with  her.  If  she 
proves  intractable — sing  to  her.  That  will  win  her 
if  anything!" 

"I  have  already  sung  to  her,  and  await  my  an- 
swer," said  Walter  clearly. 

Her  face  radiant  with  rose-colour,  which  but  set 
off  the  sparkling  light  in  her  eyes,  Eva  approached 
her  knight  and  placed  the  laurel  wreath  upon  his 
head,  as  he  knelt  there  on  the  step  before  her. 

And  the  people  ?  Once  again  they  fairly  eclipsed 
all  their  previous  efforts  at  applauding.  Finally 
it  ended  in  a  spontaneous  note  of  admiration  and 
love  for  Hans  Sachs  who  had  found  this  rare  singer 
for  them,  and  made  all  things  come  about  as  they 
should. 

"Hail,  Sachs!  Hans  Sachs!  Hail,  Nurem- 
berg's beloved  Sachs!"  they  cried. 

And  Eva  and  Walter,  listening  with  tears  of 
joy,  felt  that  all  this  sea  of  sound  could  not  express 
a  hundredth  part  of  the  gratitude  which  welled  up 
in  their  two  happy  hearts. 


Rienzi  the  Last  of  the  Tribunes 

(Rienzi) 

IN  the  days  of  Rome's  early  greatness  there  were 
leaders  chosen  by  the  people  who  were  called 
Tribunes.  These  Tribunes,  though  subject  to 
the  popular  will,  often  had  vast  power,  for  they 
could  make  laws,  declare  war,  and  do  other  things 
that  few  kings,  even,  have  had  power  to  do.  But 
the  Tribunes  passed  away,  in  the  course  of  cen- 
turies, and  after  the  mighty  Roman  Empire  had 
fallen,  the  people  often  had  no  real  governing 
head.  They  were  the  prey  of  strong  enemies  with- 
out, and  of  fierce  quarrels  within.  So,  you  may 
believe,  their  lot  was  not  happy,  nor  their  state 
prosperous. 

About  the  middle  of  the  fourteenth  century, 
Rome  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  several  nobles, 
or  barons,  who  fought  among  themselves  and  cared 
no  whit  for  the  rights  of  the  common  people. 
Chief  among  these  barons  were  the  rival  houses  of 
Orsini  and  Colonna.  Each  maintained  strong 
retinues  of  armed  men  and  lived  in  fortified  castles ; 
and  as  there  was  no  real  government  to  hold  them 
in  check  they  became  a  menace  to  the  whole  city. 

904 


RIENZI,  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES     205 

Shopkeepers  hardly  dared  to  open  their  places  in 
broad  daylight,  lest  they  should  be  robbed.  Mer- 
chants were  afraid  to  send  goods  from  one  place 
to  another,  lest  they  should  be  seized.  And  the 
worst  was  that  women  and  little  children  were  in 
continual  danger  from  the  street  brawls  and  sudden 
excursions  of  these  cruel  and  lawless  men. 

So  you  may  see  how  desperate  was  the  condition 
of  things  at  Rome  and  how  sadly  they  needed  some 
one  to  restore  peace  and  safety.  Even  the  author- 
ity of  the  Pope  was  disregarded,  and  he  had  to  flee 
for  protection  to  the  city  of  Avignon. 

But  there  was  one  young  man,  risen  from  the 
ranks  of  the  people,  who  as  he  grew  up  was  filled 
with  noble  ambition.  He  saw  the  distress  of  all 
his  fellow-townsmen  and  he  longed  to  avenge  their 
wrongs  and  make  the  city  free  and  prosperous  as 
it  was  in  the  olden  days.  This  desire  was  finally 
roused  to  a  fever  heat  by  a  sad  accident  which  hap- 
pened within  his  own  family.  His  little  brother,  a 
beautiful  child  with  curly  hair  and  engaging  ways, 
was  playing  one  day  in  the  open  street  when  a 
small  company  of  soldiers  belonging  to  the  Orsini 
house  dashed  by.  They  were  met  by  others  of  the 
Colonna  faction,  and  in  one  of  their  usual  fierce 
fights  the  little  boy  was  slain.  Yet  the  young  lord 
who  had  chanced  to  do  this  dreadful  thing  rode 
away  without  a  word  of  regret. 


206  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

From  that  time  forth  Rienzi — for  that  was  the 
name  of  the  people's  champion — worked  constantly 
among  the  people,  striving  to  rouse  them  to  action. 
His  fiery  eloquence,  his  earnestness,  and  the  justice 
of  the  cause,  brought  him  a  constantly  increasing 
band  of  followers,  until  at  last  he  had  practically 
all  the  common  people  secretly  enlisted  under  his 
banner  and  only  awaiting  the  signal  to  rise  against 
the  barons  and  regain  their  liberties.  And  the  peo- 
ple loved  their  enthusiastic  young  leader.  They 
were  willing  to  follow  him  anywhere  and  give  him 
any  title  he  might  see  fit  to  assume.  But  he  chose 
the  simple  name  of  "Tribune"  in  memory  of  the 
former  Tribunes  who  had  led  the  people;  and  his 
earnest  prayer  was  that  he  might  prove  worthy  of 
it. 

After  the  tragic  death  of  his  brother,  Rienzi's 
affections  centred  in  a  sister,  Irene,  a  fair  young 
girl  just  reaching  womanhood,  who  was  no  less  de- 
voted to  her  brother  than  he  to  her.  A  fine  picture 
they  made,  sauntering  along  some  quiet  path  to- 
gether, he  with  his  dark  hair  and  dreamy  eyes,  she 
with  her  light  hair  and  smile  like  an  imprisoned 
sunbeam.  Rienzi,  indeed,  was  a  dreamer  and 
would  have  liked  nothing  better  than  his  books  or 
a  stroll  like  this  by  the  side  of  a  stream,  had  not 
the  stern  call  of  his  country  roused  him  to  heroic 
things.  But  the  fine  stuff  that  dreamers  are  made 


RIENZI,  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES     207 

of — a  trusting  confidence  in  all  men — was  the  one 
thing  which  unsuited  him  for  leadership.  This, 
however,  you  will  see  for  yourself  as  we  go  on  with 
our  story. 

While  Irene  was  strolling  along  one  day,  she  had 
the  misfortune  to  attract  the  notice  of  one  of  the 
Orsini  noblemen.  He  fell  in  love  with  her,  but, 
knowing  that  she  would  scorn  him,  he  did  not  at- 
tempt to  win  her  in  an  honourable  way.  Instead, 
he  planned  to  carry  her  away  by  force  from  the 
shelter  of  her  own  home!  This  was  a  wicked  and 
audacious  thing  to  do ;  but  the  fact  that  such  plots 
had  actually  succeeded  before  shows  how  dreadful 
were  the  times  when  Rienzi  lived. 

Accordingly,  one  dark  night,  an  armed  band 
stole  quietly  along  under  the  shadow  of  the  houses 
until  they  reached  the  one  where  dwelt  Rienzi  and 
his  sister  Irene.  They  were  wise  enough  to  choose 
a  night  when  Rienzi  was  absent  addressing  the  peo- 
ple, so  Irene  was  left  alone  and  helpless.  Quickly 
placing  their  scaling-ladders  to  the  windows  of  the 
house,  they  soon  broke  into  it  and  seized  the  poor 
girl.  Despite  her  frantic  outcries  and  appeals  for 
help,  they  were  on  the  point  of  carrying  her  down 
the  ladder  and  making  good  their  escape,  when  a 
lucky  intervention  occurred.  A  young  man  bear- 
ing the  arms  of  Colonna  dashed  up  with  a  band  of 
followers.  Seeing  his  ancient  foes,  he  lost  no  time 


208  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

in  attacking  them  at  the  foot  of  the  ladders.  The 
Orsini,  though  taken  by  surprise,  fought  stoutly, 
and  the  noise  of  the  conflict  brought  many  people 
running  to  the  scene.  But  meanwhile  the  leader 
of  the  Colonna  forces  found  means  to  rescue  the 
fainting  girl  and  carry  her  to  one  side  to  a  place  of 
safety. 

Among  those  whom  the  tumult  attracted  was  the 
Papal  Legate.  He  came  into  the  midst  of  the 
throng  and  besought  them  to  cease  fighting  in  the 
name  of  religion  and  of  the  church,  since  they  paid 
no  heed  to  the  law.  But  the  nobles  laughed  at  him, 
and  would  probably  have  resumed  the  fight,  had 
not  a  commanding  voice  cried  out,  "Hold!" 

It  was  Rienzi,  who  had  just  come.  Addressing 
the  people,  who  were  his  followers,  he  bade  them 
respect  the  law;  while  he  prayed  the  barons  also 
to  go  quietly  to  their  homes.  The  people  cheered 
his  words  and  drew  back.  The  barons  shrugged 
their  shoulders  at  this  champion  of  the  people,  and 
were  fain  to  continue  hostilities,  but  the  company 
about  Rienzi  was  now  so  large  that  they  yielded 
and  sheathed  their  weapons.  But  they  agreed 
among  themselves  to  meet  on  the  morrow  outside 
the  city  gates,  where  they  could  renew  the  contest 
without  interruption. 

No  sooner  had  the  barons  withdrawn  than 
Rienzi's  followers  began  to  urge  him  to  do  what 


RIENZI,  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES    209 

he  had  so  long  been  planning — strike  a  decisive 
blow  against  the  barons  and  make  the  city  free. 
Rienzi  saw  that  this  would  be  a  good  opportunity. 
He  had  heard  the  barons  plan  to  withdraw  outside 
the  city.  Now,  when  they  went  forth  to  fight  on 
the  morrow,  why  not  close  the  gates  against  them, 
and  not  let  them  in  again  until  they  had  sworn  to 
obey  the  laws? 

So  Rienzi  was  only  too  willing  to  fall  in  with  the 
popular  suggestion,  for  he  perceived  that  the  tem- 
per of  the  people  was  with  him.  In  an  impassioned 
speech  he  begged  them  to  uphold  him  now ;  to  strike 
as  one  man  for  the  freedom  of  the  ancient  city. 
Then  he  unfolded  his  plan  to  them.  The  next 
morning  his  banner  should  be  unfurled  and  his 
trumpet  should  sound.  Then  let  every  man  there 
present,  and  every  neighbour  of  his,  rally  to  the 
standard  of  liberty  and  peace! 

Rienzi's  speech  was  wildly  applauded,  and  a 
unanimous  support  was  pledged  him.  The  crowd 
then  dispersed,  and  Rienzi  had  opportunity,  for 
the  first  time,  to  learn  the  cause  of  the  tumult.  He 
found  that  the  girl  who  had  been  rescued  was  his 
own  sister.  She  had  recovered  from  her  fainting  fit 
and  was  now  leaning  against  her  doorstep,  where 
she  was  being  tenderly  watched  over  by  a  young 
man. 

"Irene!    Adrian!"  exclaimed  Rienzi  in  alarm. 


210 


"All  is  well,  dear  brother,"  replied  the  girl. 
"But  had  it  not  been  for  this  chivalrous  stranger,  I 
fear  it  would  have  been  terribly  different.  Some 
men  of  Orsini  invaded  our  home  and  tried  to  carry 
me  away,  when  this  gentleman  interfered.  Our 
thanks  are  due  to  him." 

"And  they  are  given  in  overflowing  measure,  Ad- 
rian," said  Rienzi,  extending  his  hand  to  the  noble- 
man. "We  owe  you  much." 

Adrian  of  Colonna,  in  fact,  was  a  boyhood  friend 
of  Rienzi,  though  public  matters  and  a  difference 
in  station  had  long  kept  them  apart.  The  noble- 
man flushed  and  laughed,  declaring  that  the  service 
was  nothing.  He  was  afraid  indeed,  he  said,  that 
the  sight  of  his  enemy  moved  him  to  battle  before 
ever  he  saw  there  was  a  lovely  maiden  in  distress. 
Here  he  laid  his  hand  upon  his  heart  and  bowed 
gallantly. 

Meanwhile,  Rienzi  was  troubled  at  heart.  Real- 
ising that  Adrian  had  heard  his  speech  and  there- 
fore knew  his  plans,  he  feared  the  cause  was  un- 
done. He  swiftly  decided  to  throw  himself  upon 
the  generosity  of  the  nobleman,  whom  he  knew  to 
be  highly  honourable,  and  he  therefore  asked  him, 
for  old  friendship's  sake,  not  to  reveal  anything  he 
had  heard  that  night. 

Adrian  at  first  hesitated.  One  word  from  him 
would  put  the  barons — who  had  laughed  at  Rienzi's 


RIENZI,  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES    211 

pretensions  and  did  not  suspect  his  strength — on 
their  guard.  What  should  he  do  ? 

Rienzi  saw  his  hesitancy.  "It  is  not  alone  for 
myself  or  my  people  that  I  ask  it,"  he  pleaded;  "it 
is  for  Rome — the  place  of  our  fathers  for  genera- 
tion upon  generation.  Let  us  restore  the  old  gov- 
ernment and  the  old  glory  to  our  country.  Let  its 
cause  plead  with  you !" 

"And  let  me  also  add  my  word  of  entreaty,"  said 
Irene  timidly.  "You  have  done  so  much  for  us  al- 
ready. Can  we  ask  this  one  thing  more?" 

"I  consent  1"  said  the  young  man  impetuously. 
"For  my  country — and  for  you!" 

Irene  blushed  and  her  eyes  could  not  conceal  the 
little  ray  of  pleasure  that  came  into  them.  The 
young  nobleman  saw  the  gleam  and  his  heart  beat 
with  a  strange  thrill,  such  as  he  had  never  known 
before.  It  seemed  to  him  in  a  moment  that  he 
would  give  all  he  possessed — houses  and  lands  and 
titles — if  he  could  but  call  up  that  glance  at  his 
every  coming. 

The  next  morning  the  whole  city  was  early  astir. 
The  barons  and  their  adherents  had  withdrawn  to 
a  plain  outside  the  walls  as  they  had  agreed. 
Rienzi  and  his  followers  meanwhile  were  busied 
with  warlike  preparations.  Armed  men  ran  hither 
and  thither  about  the  streets  greeting  other  citi- 


212  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

zens.  And  it  was  seen  that  whenever  a  shopkeeper 
or  craftsman  was  approached,  he  straightway  for- 
sook whatever  he  was  doing  and  hastened  to  arm 
himself  also  and  fall  in  line. 

When-  the  sun  was  well  up  in  the  heavens  the 
sound  of  a  trumpet  was  heard.  It  blew  the  call  of 
Rienzi;  and  straightway  through  the  streets  came 
the  steady  tread  of  marching  feet.  At  the  head  of 
a  large  body  of  determined-looking  men  rode 
Rienzi,  clad  in  the  glittering  armour  of  a  Tribune. 
Before  the  great  square  of  the  Capitol  he  turned 
and  addressed  the  populace  telling  them  to  be  va- 
liant upon  this  day  and  stand  for  the  honour  and 
freedom  of  their  beloved  city  and  for  their  own 
security.  Then  giving  orders,  he  posted  men  at 
the  gates  and  upon  the  walls,  where  they  awaited 
the  return  of  the  barons. 

It  was  really  an  easy  victory.  For  when  the 
barons  came  back  wearied  and  weakened  by  the 
fighting  among  themselves,  they  found  the  gates 
so  securely  barred  and  the  walls  so  strongly  de- 
fended that  they  were  forced  to  make  terms.  They 
agreed  to  respect  the  laws  and  recognise  Rienzi  as 
Tribune,  before  ever  they  were  allowed  to  enter  or 
continue  to  their  homes. 

You  may  be  sure  this  defeat  sat  ill  with  the 
haughty  lords  who  had  despised  the  common  peo- 
ple and  sneered  at  their  champion.  But  they  saw 


At  the  head  of  a  large  body  of  men  rode  Rienzi 


RIENZI,  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES    213 

it  would  not  do  to  employ  force,  as  they  were  greatly 
outnumbered.  So  they  decided  to  plot  secretly 
against  the  Tribune  while  outwardly  they  bowed 
to  his  authority. 

Accordingly  when  Rienzi  held  his  first  public 
audience,  a  few  days  later,  in  the  audience-chamber 
of  the  Capitol,  the  barons  were  present,  as  well  as 
ambassadors  from  foreign  courts  and  many  other 
dignitaries.  It  was  an  imposing  assemblage  worthy 
of  a  king.  Messengers  were  despatched  hither  and 
thither  with  orders.  Pages  stood  in  waiting. 
Heralds  announced  each  person  who  had  business 
with  the  Tribune.  Couriers,  dust-covered,  strode 
in  to  bring  good  news:  one  reported  that  the 
brigands  had  been  suppressed;  another,  that  all  the 
roads  were  safe ;  another,  that  peace  was  an  assured 
fact  in  all  the  country  round  about,  and  people 
were  blessing  the  new  Tribune's  rule. 

This  news  was  received  with  great  joy  by  all  the 
court,  with  the  exception  of  the  barons.  They  saw 
in  it  a  death-blow  to  their  own  power,  and  knew 
that  so  long  as  the  Tribune  held  sway,  the  people 
would  be  more  than  a  match  for  them.  So  they 
resolved  to  lose  no  time  in  putting  Rienzi  to  death. 
That  very  day  they  met  together — putting  aside 
their  own  animosities  for  the  time  being — and  laid 
their  plans.  Adrian  who  was  present  indignantly 
upbraided  them,  telling  them  they  were  breaking 


214  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

their  word;  but  he  was  not  heeded.  Instead,  his 
own  father,  who  was  head  of  the  house  of  Colonna, 
asked  him  if  he  were  going  to  turn  against  them, 
his  own  flesh  and  blood.  Hot  words  rushed  to 
Adrian's  lips.  He  was  on  the  point  of  replying 
that  his  country's  welfare  came  first;  but  the  barons 
did  not  pause  to  listen.  They  went  in  search  of 
Rienzi,  each  with  a  dagger  under  his  cloak. 

Rienzi  had  been  addressing  the  people  from  a 
gallery  in  the  Capitol,  when  of  a  sudden  Adrian 
ran  swiftly  from  behind  a  row  of  pillars  and  whis- 
pered to  him, 

"Be  on  your  guard!  There  are  those  who  seek 
your  life!"  Then  he  darted  away. 

He  did  not  have  time  to  say  more,  for  the  group 
of  conspirators  were  even  then  drawing  near.  They 
surrounded  Rienzi  under  pretence  of  asking  him 
some  question  with  regard  to  the  new  government. 
Then  quickly  they  drew  their  daggers  and  each  one 
struck  him  in  turn. 

But  the  Tribune  had  been  too  vigilant  for  them. 
Suspecting  treachery  on  their  part  he  had  taken 
the  precaution  to  don  a  coat  of  mail,  under  his  robe 
of  state,  and  this  turned  aside  all  their  blows. 

Those  below  who  had  seen  their  dastardly  attack 
cried  aloud  for  vengeance. 

"Seize  them!  Kill  them!  Murderers!  Vil- 
lains!" resounded  on  all  sides;  and  in  a  moment  the 


RIENZI,  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES    215 

gallery  was  thronged  with  excited  men,  led  by 
Cecco  a  burly  blacksmith,  and  the  conspirators  were 
disarmed  and  bound.  They  were  thrown  into  sep- 
arate dungeons,  and  so  fierce  was  the  rage  against 
them  that  they  were  glad  to  hear  the  heavy  doors 
clang,  for  they  had  been  afraid  of  being  torn  to 
pieces. 

As  it  was,  their  hours  seemed  numbered,  for  the 
people  surged  about  the  chair  of  state  whereon 
Rienzi  had  now  taken  his  seat,  and  clamoured  loudly 
for  the  execution  of  the  barons.  Rienzi  also  was 
justly  indignant.  He  did  not  care  so  much  for  the 
attack  made  against  his  own  person  as  for  the  bar- 
ons' total  want  of  honour  and  disregard  of  the 
state's  welfare.  He  saw  that  they  were  working 
for  their  own  interests  to  the  ruin  of  every  one  else, 
and  that  the  people's  new-found  liberty  would  be 
safer  if  they  were  put  to  death.  So  he  was  about 
to  yield  to  the  popular  clamour  and  sign  their  death 
warrant  when  Adrian  and  Irene  entered. 

The  young  nobleman  had  realised  the  serious 
danger  threatening  his  father  and  the  other  barons 
when  their  attack  failed.  Wishing  to  save  his  kin- 
dred and  friends,  althpugh  he  knew  they  deserved 
punishment,  he  had  hastened  in  search  of  Irene 
and  begged  her  to  plead  with  her  brother  for  the 
prisoners'  lives.  This  the  tender-hearted  girl  con- 
sented to  do;  and  they  now  came  to  present  the 


216  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

petition  together.  Falling  on  their  knees  before 
Rienzi  they  begged  him  to  show  mercy  rather  than 
justice  and  prove  the  greatness  of  his  high  office. 

This  was  just  the  sort  of  petition  that  appealed  to 
the  high-souled  Tribune.  He  impulsively  tore  up 
the  sentence  which  he  was  about  to  sign,  and  call- 
ing the  people  together  he  addressed  them  again 
with  that  eloquence  of  which  he  was  so  great  a 
master.  He  asked  to  be  allowed  to  pardon  the 
barons,  as  it  was  him  only  that  they  had  attacked. 
The  people  gave  their  consent,  though  not  without 
murmurs,  and  the  prisoners  were  then  summoned 
to  the  throne-room. 

Rienzi  received  them  in  state,  and  for  once  they 
were  cowed  into  submission.  Indeed,  they  ex- 
pected nothing  less  than  sentence  of  death;  and  if 
any  of  them  had  been  in  Rienzi's  place  he  would 
have  lost  no  time  in  pronouncing  this  sentence. 
But  as  we  have  before  seen,  the  chief  fault  of  Rienzi 
was  too  great  faith  in  the  promises  of  other  men. 
Now  it  led  him  into  the  great  mistake  of  his  life. 
To  the  utter  surprise  of  the  prisoners,  the  Tribune 
addressed  them  in  words  of  kindness  and  pardon. 

"Friends,"  he  said  quietly,  "I  have  been  deeply 
grieved  by  the  outbreak  for  which  ye  are  now  in 
chains.  As  concerns  my  own  life,  I  care  not  a 
straw.  I  will  gladly  offer  it  up  at  any  moment  for 
the  good  of  my  country.  But  in  your  late  attack 


RIENZI,  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES    217 

I  cannot  but  see  that  ye  were  aiming  at  my  country 
rather  than  me.  Ye  were  violating  your  words. 
Ye  were  breaking  the  laws.  If  I  regarded  only 
the  justice  of  the  case  and  the  requests  of  my  peo- 
ple, I  should  order  you  to  immediate  execution; 
for  this  ye  have  deserved.  But  the  teachings  of 
holy  church  are  that  we  shall  temper  our  deeds  with 
mercy.  I  have  therefore  asked  the  people,  whom 
ye  have  offended,  to  forgive  you  for  my  sake.  This 
they  will  do  if  ye  renew  your  allegiance, — promising 
solemnly  upon  your  honour  as  gentlemen  and  Chris- 
tians to  respect  the  laws  of  the  people  and  my  au- 
thority as  their  representative." 

During  this  speech  the  barons  looked  at  one  an- 
other in  doubt  and  amazement.  Never  had  they 
heard  its  like.  Their  whole  lives  had  been  spent 
under  the  principle  of  "kill  or  be  killed,"  and  the 
nobility  of  this  young  dreamer  struck  no  responsive 
note  in  their  own  breasts.  But  when  he  ended  his 
speech  of  pardon  with  the  condition  that  they  take 
a  new  oath  of  allegiance,  they  saw  it  was  their  only 
hope  of  escape.  And  so  they  all  promised,  though 
sullenly  and  reluctantly,  and  each  one  resolved  in 
his  heart  to  pay  no  heed  to  a  promise  wrung  from 
him  by  force  of  circumstances. 

Thus  you  see  the  Tribune's  good  deed  brought 
forth  no  good  fruit — only  evil ;  for  as  the  prisoners 
were  set  free,  their  faces  wore  such  heavy  scowls 


218  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

and  their  teeth  set  so  savagely  that  the  people  were 
filled  with  foreboding  and  for  the  first  time  began 
to  doubt  the  wisdom  of  their  ruler. 

The  citizens  had  good  cause  to  be  alarmed.  That 
very  night  the  barons  secretly  fled  from  the  city, 
and  the  next  day  reports  reached  the  market-place 
that  they  were  collecting  a  large  army  in  the  prov- 
inces and  would  soon  march  against  Rienzi  to  crush 
him.  The  reports  were  soon  confirmed  and  grew 
more  portentous  day  by  day.  The  people  became 
terrified  and  openly  reproached  the  Tribune  for  his 
lack  of  foresight.  Yet  they  still  clung  to  him  as 
their  leader,  and  implored  him  to  save  them  from 
their  enemies. 

Rienzi  went  about  with  calm  and  cheerful  counte- 
nance. His  very  presence  inspired  confidence,  and 
his  speeches  brought  the  people  flocking  to  his 
standard  and  ready  to  shed  their  last  drop  of  blood 
in  the  beloved  cause. 

But  there  was  one,  in  this  troublous  time,  whose 
heart  was  torn  with  conflicting  emotions.  Poor 
Adrian  did  not  know  which  way  to  turn.  Loyalty 
to  his  kindred  and  father's  house  demanded  that  he 
side  with  the  barons.  A  new-found  devotion  to  his 
country  and  belief  in  Rienzi  urged  him  to  support 
the  people.  And  in  addition  he  had  become  deeply 
in  love  with  the  gentle  Irene  and  felt  that  she  re- 
sponded to  his  devotion.  It  was  indeed  a  heart- 


RIENZI,  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES    219 

breaking  situation  for  him  and  one  that  seemed 
more  hopeless  as  the  days  of  battle  grew  imminent. 

Finally  the  barons'  army  drew  proudly  on  the 
city,  and  halting  before  the  gates  demanded  its  in- 
stant surrender.  The  wardens  shouted  back  de- 
fiance, while  from  within  came  the  sound  of  singing 
and  marching  men.  Rienzi's  forces  approached  the 
gates  with  resolute  step  keeping  time  to  a  sonorous 
war-chant.  At  their  head  rode  the  Tribune,  his 
dark  eyes  flashing  with  the  light  of  conflict.  But 
before  he  could  give  orders  to  throw  open  the  gates 
and  meet  the  enemy  on  open  ground,  Adrian  sprang 
forward  and  cast  himself  before  Rienzi's  charger. 

"Halt!  I  beseech  you,  O  Tribune!"  he  cried, 
while  the  steed  reared  and  its  rider  drew  in  the  reins 
sharply. 

"What  is  the  cause  of  this?"  demanded  Rienzi 
sternly. 

"Let  me  plead  with  the  barons  once  more!" 
begged  Adrian.  "Perchance  they  will  listen  to  me, 
and  there  will  be  no  need  of  bloodshed.  Ah,  let  us 
have  an  armistice!" 

"It  is  too  late,"  replied  the  Tribune.  "They 
have  shown  us  that  we  can  put  no  faith  in  speeches. 
Stand  aside!  What  ho,  wardens!  Open  the 
gates,  and  let  us  give  these  rebels  all  the  fighting 
they  desire!" 

And  so  they  did !    While  the  unfortunate  Adrian 


220  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

was  brushed  aside,  the  gates  were  unbarred  and 
the  two  armies  rushed  together  in  the  shock  of 
battle.  Rome  the  ancient  seat  of  many  fierce 
struggles  never  saw  one  more  fierce  or  deadly  than 
this.  The  barons  were  spurred  on  by  hatred  and 
greed.  The  people  were  fighting  for  their  liber- 
ties. And  here  and  there  and  everywhere  the  black 
horse  of  Rienzi  was  seen,  bearing  his  triumphant 
rider  into  the  thickest  of  the  fray.  Rienzi's  plume 
waving  above  his  dark  hair  was  the  signal  of  vic- 
tory. Rienzi's  clear  voice  was  encouragement  and 
conquest. 

Finally  after  fearful  slaughter  the  barons  broke 
and  fled.  The  Tribune  had  once  again  defeated 
them.  Among  the  heaps  of  slain  was  Adrian's 
father,  the  head  of  the  house  of  Colonna.  While 
the  victorious  citizens  buried  the  dead,  they  sang 
praises  to  their  leader,  whom  they  idolised  more 
than  ever.  And  it  did  indeed  seem  that  a  bright 
day  had  dawned  for  Rome. 

But  though  the  barons  were  defeated  and  dis- 
persed, they  had  by  no  means  given  up  the  struggle. 
They  now  tried  by  underhand  means  to  gain  their 
ends.  The  Emperor  of  Germany  had  for  some 
time  asserted  sovereignty,  in  nominal  fashion,  over 
Rome.  To  him  the  barons  now  appealed  saying 
that  the  city  was  in  the  hands  of  a  dangerous  rebel. 
They  also  visited  the  Pope  at  Avignon  and  artfully 


RIENZI,  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES     221 

persuaded  him  that  Rienzi  was  a  dangerous  heretic 
who  openly  scoffed  at  all  authority.  Though  the 
Pope  had  formerly  felt  compelled  to  flee  from 
Rome  because  of  the  barons,  he  now  listened  to 
their  speeches  and,  strange  to  say,  fell  in  with  their 
plans.  The  Emperor  also  sent  orders  that  his  am- 
bassadors were  to  be  recalled. 

This  news,  reaching  Rome,  caused  a  new  up- 
heaval in  the  minds  of  the  fickle  people.  Many 
were  ready,  without  delay,  to  turn  against  the  man 
they  had  been  worshipping.  Their  emotions  were 
still  further  worked  upon  by  some  designing  dema- 
gogues, one  being  Cecco,  the  blacksmith  we  have 
before  noticed.  Cecco  and  his  band  thought  they 
could  push  themselves  to  power  in  this  general  dis- 
turbance, and  they  lost  no  chance  of  poisoning  the 
ears  of  the  crowd. 

Finally,  a  new  leader  appeared.  It  was  none 
other  than  Adrian,  who,  frantic  with  grief  over  the 
death  of  his  father,  now  publicly  announced  that 
he  had  vowed  to  slay  Rienzi,  and  called  upon  the 
people  to  help  him  to  put  down  the  usurper  and 
tyrant.  And  soon  the  cry  arose  in  this  street  and 
that,  "Down  with  Rienzi!"  For  the  people  had 
forgotten — as  people  wjll  forget. 

But  still  there  were  others  who  argued  stoutly 
for  the  Tribune's  cause,  so  that  words  ran  high  and 
many  citizens  did  not  know  what  to  believe. 


222  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

In  the  midst  of  the  disturbance  the  great  bell  of 
the  cathedral  rang  out  calling  the  people  to  wor- 
ship. A  public  service  of  thanksgiving  had  been 
announced  in  celebration  of  the  great  victory;  and 
presently  the  Papal  Legate  and  all  his  train  ap- 
peared going  to  the  service.  This  made  the  crowd 
still  more  doubtful  in  their  beliefs,  though  public 
sentiment  began  to  veer  again  toward  Rienzi. 

"See!"  they  said,  "the  Pope  himself  is  helping  to 
celebrate  the  victory.  Then  surely  he  has  not  with- 
drawn his  favour  from  Rienzi!" 

Just  then  Rienzi  himself  appeared,  leading  his 
sister  by  the  hand  and  proceeding  with  firm  step 
to  the  cathedral.  Adrian  was  among  the  throng 
who  saw  him  pass;  but  though  Adrian  had  vowed 
to  slay  him,  and  there  were  many  in  the  press  who 
had  been  shouting  "Down  with  Rienzi!"  there  was 
not  a  finger  stirred  against  him — such  was  the  ma- 
j  esty  of  his  calm  demeanour.  Adrian  himself  could 
not  strike  this  man  while  he  walked  hand  in  hand 
with  Irene! 

Her  face  was  pale,  and  her  eyes  bore  traces  of 
suffering  as  though  she  had  feared  for  her  brother's 
safety,  or  sorrowed  over  another's  grief.  Indeed, 
she  had  done  both ;  and  if  Adrian  could  have  looked 
upon  her  heart  he  would  have  seen  a  struggle  as 
keen  as  the  one  he  was  undergoing;  a  grief  whose 
reason  would  have  caused  him  both  pain  and  joy. 


RIENZI,  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES     223 

Just  as  Irene  and  Rienzi  drew  near  to  the  door 
of  the  cathedral  the  crowd  saw  a  startling  scene. 
The  Papal  Legate  came  forth  clad  in  the  full  re- 
galia of  the  church  and  forbade  them  to  enter.  In 
a  loud  voice  he  pronounced  a  curse  upon  Rienzi. 
He  was  forbidden  to  partake  of  the  sacrament  or 
have  any  part  in  the  church's  privileges.  All  men, 
likewise,  were  forbidden  to  aid  him  in  any  way,  lest 
they  should  incur  a  similar  penalty. 

This  was  what  was  known  as  excommunication. 
It  was  the  severest  punishment  in  the  power  of  the 
church,  and  was  usually  directed  only  against  crim- 
inals or  desperate  characters. 

When  Rienzi  heard  these  unjust  and  unexpected 
words,  he  staggered  back  filled  with  amazement 
and  horror.  He  had  not  looked  for  such  reward 
as  this  for  his  great  services,  and  he  knew  not  which 
way  to  turn.  The  citizens  on  'their  part  shrank 
away  from  him  as  from  one  smitten  with  the  plague. 
Meanwhile,  Adrian  sprang  to  Irene's  side. 

"Come  away  with  me!"  he  said  gently.  "The 
anathema  was  not  directed  against  you,  and  I  can 
conduct  you  to  safety." 

"No!"  she  cried,  clinging  the  closer  to  her 
brother.  "No!  where  he  goes,  there  will  I  go!  I 
will  never  forsake  him  or  refuse  to  share  his  curses 
or  his  perils !" 

"But  you  cannot  protect  him!  Come  while  there 
is  yet  time  I" 


224  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

"No!"  she  again  exclaimed,  and,  pressing  to 
Rienzi's  side,  the  brother  and  sister  proceeded 
slowly  down  the  street,  while  the  crowd  parted  to 
right  and  left  and  watched  them  depart  in  sullen 
silence. 

Though  momentarily  crushed  by  the  blow, 
Rienzi  was  still  undaunted.  He  believed  that  if  he 
could  yet  gain  the  ear  of  the  people  he  could  win 
his  cause  with  them,  and  then  he  would  lay  it  in 
its  true  light  before  the  Pope.  Now  his  soul  was 
filled  with  sorrow  instead  of  anger,  and  as  he  went 
on  his  way  he  busied  himself  with  new  plans  for  the 
city's  good. 

"Let  us  go  to  the  Capitol,"  he  said  in  low  tones 
to  his  sister.  "There  on  the  outer  balcony  I  vill 
address  my  people." 

"No,  no,  dear  brother,  let  us  flee!"  replied  Irene. 
"Rome  has  been  ungrateful  and  you  owe  her  no 
further  service.  I  pray  you  do  not  tarry  in  her 
gates!" 

"And  thus  proclaim  myself  guilty?"  answered 
Rienzi.  "Not  so.  Besides,  where  could  I  go? 
Rome  has  been  my  one  passion — my  very  life! 
Without  her  my  life  would  be  aimless.  Ah,  no !  let 
me  lay  it  down  in  her  service,  if  she  demands  it,  and 
it  will  be  given  gladly — if  only  Rome  may  rise  up 
better  for  the  gift!"  " 

Irene  shook  her  head  sadly  but  did  not  remon- 


RIENZI,  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES    225 

strata  further.  In  silence  they  drew  near  the  Capi- 
tol and  ascended  its  broad  stone  steps.  The  guards 
on  each  side  saluted  the  Tribune  as  he  passed. 
Once  within,  he  gave  certain  orders  to  heralds  who 
stood  near,  and  went  to  an  ante-room  where  he 
poured  out  his  very  heart  in  earnest  prayer.  But  it 
was  not  for  himself  that  he  prayed:  it  was  for  the 
safety  of  his  beloved  Rome. 

And  how  were  the  Romans  requiting  him?  The 
news  of  the  excommunication  ran  through  the  city 
like  wildfire,  and  caused  the  most  intense  excite- 
ment. People  talked  of  nothing  else.  Cecco  and 
the  other  plotters  made  the  utmost  of  it,  assuring 
the  crowds  that  Rienzi's  many  sins  had  found  him 
out,  and  that  he  was  too  dangerous  a  man  to  be  suf- 
fered to  live  another  day. 

Adrian,  on  the  contrary,  ashamed  of  his  previous 
part,  did  all  he  could  to  turn  the  tide  in  favour  of 
the  wronged  Tribune.  But  it  was  in  vain.  His 
own  former  words  were  shouted  back  against  him, 
while  the  crowds  that  followed  Cecco  and  the  plot- 
ters constantly  grew  larger  and  more  noisy.  They 
had  heard  that  the  Tribune  had  taken  refuge  in 
the  Capitol;  and  to  their  increasing  cry  of  "Down 
with  Rienzi!"  was  added  the  still  more  ominous  one 
of  "Burn  the  Capitol!" 

Finally  Adrian  saw  that  only  the  most  desperate 
means  would  save  the  Tribune's  life;  nothing  short 
0 


226 


of  instant  and  secret  flight  would  avail  him.  Has- 
tening by  side  streets,  the  young  nobleman  burst 
into  the  Capitol,  where  he  found  Irene  guarding 
the  door  to  her  brother's  room. 

"Where  is  Rienzi?"  he  said  swiftly.  "We  must 
all  flee!  The  people  are  coming  with  torches  to 
burn  the  Capitol!" 

"He  is  there,  but  he  will  not  flee,"  she  answered ; 
"and  my  place  is  with  him." 

"Oh,  Irene,  Irene!  Can  you  not  see  that  my 
heart  is  burning  up  with  love  for  you?  I  have 
loved  you  since  that  night  I  first  saw  you  in  the 
street.  Come  with  me,  I  beseech  you!  We  will 
implore  your  brother  also  to  flee;  but  if  he  will  not 
be  persuaded,  why  need  you  sacrifice  yourself?" 

Then  without  waiting  for  her  reply,  he  dashed 
past  her  into  the  room  where  Rienzi  knelt  in  prayer. 

"Come!"  said  Adrian,  "the  people  are  approach- 
ing to  fire  the  Capitol!  You  and  your  sister  will 
be  lost,  if  you  do  not  follow  me  by  a  secret  way 
which  I  know.  Listen!  do  you  not  hear  the  noise 
in  the  streets?" 

The  dull  roar  was  indeed  becoming  louder  and 
louder;  but  Rienzi  only  smiled. 

"I  am  used  to  the  people  and  do  not  fear  them," 
he  said.  "But  Irene,  child,  this  is  no  place  for 
you.  I  entreat  you  to  go  with  this  good  friend." 

Irene  had  also  entered  the  room,  and  now  flushed 
red,  but  said  no  word. 


RIENZI,  LAST  OF  THE  TRIBUNES    227 

"I  have  asked  her  to  go  with  me  for  always," 
said  Adrian.  "God  knows  how  in  this  hour  of  dis- 
tress I  love  her  and  will  protect  her!  I  pray  you 
join  your  word  with  mine." 

"Do  you  love  this  man,  sister?"  asked  Rienzi, 
gazing  at  her  kindly. 

Irene  bowed  a  silent  "yes"  and  then  burst  into 
tears,  clinging  to  her  brother's  hand. 

"Then  go  with  him,"  he  continued,  placing  her 
hand  in  Adrian's.  "I,  too,  have  loved,  and  the  ob- 
ject of  my  love  has  been  Rome.  As  you  two  must 
cling  to  one  another  now,  so  must  I  cling  to  my  un- 
happy city.  Go!" 

It  was  high  time.  The  advance  guard  of  the 
mob  was  already  surging  into  the  square.  Without 
waiting  a  moment  longer  Adrian  wrung  his  friend's 
hand  and  lifted  the  swooning  form  of  Irene.  Car- 
rying her  down  a  dim  corridor  and  through  the  se- 
cret passage  of  which  he  had  spoken,  he  bore  her 
speedily  to  safety. 

But  Rienzi !  Faithful  to  the  last  to  his  noble  en- 
deavour, the  brave  Tribune  ascended  the  open  bal- 
cony in  full  view  of  the  people  and  tried  to  address 
them.  But  Cecco  and  the  other  demagogues  would 
not  permit  this.  They  were  afraid  lest  his  match- 
less eloquence  should  once  more  win  the  people's 
hearts.  Hooting  and  yelling,  they  picked  up  great 
stones  and  hurled  them  into  the  balcony  where  he 


228  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

stood.  Others  of  the  mob  applied  torches  to  the 
balcony  and  other  parts  of  the  building.  Soon  the 
heavy  smoke  rolled  up,  and  then  the  bright  scorch- 
ing flame.  The  smoke  shut  the  dreadful  scene  from 
view,  but  in  the  light  of  the  fire  it  again  stood  out 
clearly.  There,  with  hands  uplifted,  Rienzi  still 
sought  to  address  the  people.  The  splendid 
dreamer  had  no  thought  of  flying  from  his  martyr- 
dom. 

With  a  mighty  crash  the  walls  of  the  Capitol  fell 
in — symbol  of  the  destruction  of  the  government. 
Long  were  the  people  to  mourn  their  work  of  this 
day!  A  shower  of  burning  embers  rose  into  the 
sky,  then  slowly  settled  back  again  upon  a  grey 
and  smoking  pile.  It  was  the  tomb  of  the  Last  of 
the  Tribunes. 


The  Flying  Dutchman 

(Der  Fliegende  Hollander) 

HAVE  you  ever  seen  a  full-rigged  ship? 
What  a  creature  of  mystery  and  delight  it 
is,  as  it  rides  at  anchor!  It  seems  to  tell 
of  distant  shores  and  places  far  more  wonderful 
than  any  we  have  ever  seen.  Then,  as  it  spreads 
its  broad  white  wings,  it  seems  a  thing  of  life,  awak- 
ing out  of  sleep  and  eager  to  start  again  upon  its 
travels.  What  majesty  and  beauty  are  then  dis- 
played as  it  turns  and  breasts  the  open  sea — rising 
and  dipping  as  though  in  challenge  to  its  ancient 
enemy ! 

Our  admiration  for  the  ship  is  only  heightened 
when  we  remember  that  for  centuries  such  craft  as 
this  have  ploughed  the  waves.  They  have  discov- 
ered the  uttermost  ends  of  the  earth.  They  have 
made  all  men  neighbours,  one  with  another, — shar- 
ing the  fruits  of  the  tropics  with  the  grain  of  the 
colder  zones.  Ages  before  steam  was  put  to  use, 
sailing  vessels  much  like  this  of  the  present  time 
were  busy  in  the  service  of  man.  And  they  will 
continue  to  serve  him  so  long  as  men  "go  down  to 
the  sea  in  ships." 


230  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

Seamen,  since  the  beginning  of  time,  have  been 
a  race  unto  themselves,  having  their  own  mode  of 
life,  customs  and  beliefs.  They  believe  in  lucky 
and  unlucky  days,  signs,  clouds,  birds,  and  breezes ; 
and  so  completely  are  they  at  the  mercy  of  wind 
and  wave,  that  we  cannot  marvel  greatly  at  these 
superstitions.  Above  all  they  believe  in  an  Evil 
Spirit  of  the  sea,  who  delights  to  bring  harm  to 
mariners,  send  adverse  winds  and  waves,  and  drag 
them  down  into  the  depths  of  the  ocean.  T^his 
Spirit,  they  say,  can  change  a  gentle  breeze  to  a  ter- 
rific gale  in  an  instant.  He  can  cause  vessels  to 
sink  that  have  no  leak.  He  can  set  strange  lights 
ahead  and  thus  lure  a  crew  to  dangerous  reefs. 
Terrible  is  his  wrath,  also,  if  any  sailor  presumes 
to  defy  him.  How  this  wrath  was  visited  upon  one 
reckless  seaman  is  the  subject  of  our  present  tale. 

Many  years  ago  a  bold  Dutch  captain  named 
Vanderdecken  sailed  the  Southern  ocean  with  a 
picked  crew  of  hardy  fellows.  For  months  he 
traded  in  various  ports  until  he  grew  exceedingly 
prosperous.  The  hold  of  his  ship  became  so  heavy 
with  gold  that  the  vessel  set  deep  in  the  waves. 
Then  Vanderdecken  grew  tired  of  his  voyaging. 
He  pictured  to  himself  the  joys  of  a  cosy  little 
home — such  as  his  gold  would  buy — presided  over 
by  a  loving  wife.  So  he  set  all  sail  around  the 
Cape  of  Good  Hope,  eager  to  reach  his  beloved 
Holland  and  bid  the  sea  farewell. 


THE  FLYING  DUTCHMAN  231 

But  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope  is  ill-named,  so 
mariners  say,  and  it  proved  ill  hope  for  Vander- 
decken.  A  furious  storm  arose  beating  him  di- 
rectly in  the  face  and  keeping  his  ship  from  round- 
ing the  point  of  land.  Again  and  again  he  turned 
his  prow  in  the  teeth  of  the  gale,  and  tried  to  tack 
against  it,  but  without  success.  Finally  he  became 
enraged  and  swore  a  fearful  oath  that  he  would 
sail  around  the  Cape  if  it  took  him  till  doomsday. 

The  Evil  Spirit  heard  this  oath  and  laughed  ma- 
liciously. He  resolved  to  hold  the  captain  to  his 
word,  and  keep  him  sailing  the  ocean  until  the  end 
of  the  world.  So  he  cast  a  spell  upon  the  whole 
crew,  by  which  they  could  not  die  and  their  ship 
could  not  sink.  Year  in  and  year  out  they  were 
compelled  to  sail  wearily  without  ever  reaching  their 
journey's  end.  The  ship  grew  crazy  and  worm- 
eaten,  but  still  never  sprang  a  leak.  The  sails  were 
kept  unharmed  through  magic,  and  in  the  course  of 
time  they  became  red  as  blood,  as  though  all  the  life 
had  been  drawn  from  the  hearts  of  the  ghostly 
mariners  who  grew  old  and  grizzled  and  shrivelled. 
They  came  to  long  for  death,  but  all  in  vain  would 
they  face  the  gales  with  all  sails  set,  or  steer  straight 
upon  the  angry  reefs.  On  and  on  must  they  voy- 
age, and  but  one  ray  of  hope  was  left  them.  Their 
captain — who  alone  kept  his  youthful  look — was 
told  that  if  he  could  find  a  woman  who  would  love 


232  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

him  and  be  faithful  until  death,  the  curse  would  be 
removed.  Once  in  every  seven  years  he  was  per- 
mitted to  land;  but  if  he  found  no  one  to  become 
his  wife,  he  was  obliged  to  set  sail  again  upon  his 
weary  voyage. 

Time  after  time  Vanderdecken  sought  for  the  one 
who  would  save  him,  but  without  success.  His 
strange  appearance  and  the  tales  told  of  his  "Phan- 
tom Ship,"  as  it  was  called,  daunted  even  the  brav- 
est. All  the  maidens  shuddered  when  he  ap- 
proached, for  did  not  their  fathers  and  sweethearts 
say  that  of  all  ill  omens  this  black  ship  with  its 
blood-red  sails  was  the  worst?  It  was  always  met 
in  a  storm  or  before  some  great  disaster.  Sailors 
would  cross  themselves  as  they  told  how  it  would 
be  met  driving  furiously  before  a  gale,  and  how  the 
spectral  crew  would  hail  them  and  ask  where  they 
were — pretending  to  have  lost  both  chart  and  com- 
pass. Then  they  would  ask  leave  to  send  a  pack- 
age of  messages  and  letters  home  by  them;  and 
without  waiting  for  reply,  the  ancient-looking 
sailors  would  row  over  in  a  battered  boat,  caring 
naught  how  high  the  seas  ran.  After  they  left 
their  letters  and  rowed  back,  the  Phantom  Ship 
would  plunge  onward,  while  the  wind  whistled 
through  its  rigging.  The  sailors  with  whom  the 
letters  were  left  would  perforce  try  to  deliver  them, 
for  though  it  was  deemed  unlucky  to  take  them  it 


THE  FLYING  DUTCHMAN  233 

was  still  more  unlucky  to  keep  or  destroy  them. 
But  no  one  to  whom  they  were  addressed  was  ever 
found,  though  often  the  old  parish  records  would 
show  there  had  been  people  of  that  name  two  hun- 
dred or,  maybe,  three  hundred  years  before. 

So  the  quest  of  the  Phantom  Ship  passed  into 
a  proverb,  and  many  were  the  tales  told  of  its  cap- 
tain. He  was  known  far  and  wide  as  the  Flying 
Dutchman,  and  in  the  gloom  of  some  gathering 
storm  seamen  spoke  of  seeing  his  pale  face  peering 
anxiously  over  the  low  prow  of  his  black  ship,  seek- 
ing a  way  around  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope.  While 
at  sunset,  when  the  last  rays  tinged  the  dancing 
waves  with  ruddy  glory,  the  children  on  the  strand 
would  be  shown  the  Flying  Dutchman's  blood-red 
sail. 

At  the  time  when  our  story  begins,  a  fierce  storm 
had  been  raging  in  the  North  Sea.  To  escape 
its  fury  a  stout  Norwegian  ship  sailed  hastily  be- 
fore the  wind  into  the  nearest  port  and  cast  anchor. 
Its  captain,  a  stout  weather-beaten  man,  was  pro- 
voked at  having  to  do  this,  as  he  was  nearly  home 
and  anxious  to  get  there  and  greet  his  only  daugh- 
ter, after  a  long  voyage.  Daland  was  the  cap- 
tain's name,  and  Senta  that  of  his  daughter.  She 
had  been  left  motherless  when  very  young,  and 
now  lived  quietly  with  her  old  nurse  while  her 


234  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

father  was  away  upon  his  voyages.  Senta  was  a 
quiet,  dark-eyed  girl  given  much  to  day  dreams  on 
account  of  her  somewhat  lonely  life.  She  was  de- 
voted to  her  father,  and  believed  in  him  implicitly. 

Daland  was  not  a  bad  man,  but  he  had  one  great 
passion,  and  that  was  for  gold.  His  life-long  de- 
sire was  to  be  rich,  and  this  desire  led  to  his  taking 
long  voyages  and  braving  many  dangers.  Never- 
theless, his  money  did  not  accumulate  so  fast  as  he 
wished — does  it  ever  do  that? — and  Daland  was 
often  discontented. 

His  last  voyage  had  been  anything  but  a  success. 
His  ship  had  met  one  adverse  wind  after  another, 
and  in  two  heavy  storms  it  had  come  so  near  sink- 
ing that  they  were  forced  to  throw  overboard  some 
of  the  cargo.  And  now  when  they  were  within 
forty  miles  of  home,  another  gale  sent  them  scud- 
ding into  the  wrong  harbour.  It  was  hard  luck,  but 
sailor-like  they  prepared  to  make  the  best  of  it. 
Daland  allowed  all  the  weary  crew  to  go  below  and 
get  a  good  rest.  He  himself  followed  their  exam- 
ple, leaving  only  one  man  at  the  wheel. 

The  air  was  heavy,  as  it  often  is  during  a  thun- 
der-storm, and  the  dark  clouds  rolled  fiercely  across 
the  sky.  But  within  the  bay  the  water  was  com- 
paratively quiet,  and  the  ship  rode  easily  at  her 
anchor.  The  gentle  motion  and  still  air  were  too 
much  for  the  man  on  lookout,  and  he,  also,  went  to 
sleep  with  his  head  leaning  upon  the  wheel. 


THE  FLYING  DUTCHMAN  235 

While  he  slept,  the  storm  burst  again  with  in- 
creased fury  just  beyond,  in  the  open  sea;  and  out 
of  the  teeth  of  the  gale  sped  another  ship  coming 
straight  for  the  same  harbour.  The  rising  waves 
leaped  high  on  all  sides  of  her  low  black  hull,  threat- 
ening to  engulf  her.  But  if  you  could  have  seen 
the  crew  at  work,  you  would  have  noticed  that  they 
paid  no  heed  to  the  tempest  except  to  shake  their 
fists,  perhaps,  in  defiance  of  it.  On  they  came,  the 
wind  howling  shrilly  through  the  rigging  and  tug- 
ging vainly  at  the  bulging  sails.  And,  marvellous 
to  relate,  every  one  of  these  sails  was  set,  as  though 
it  had  been  a  clear  day  instead  of  a  time  to  scud  with 
bare  poles ;  and  the  sails  were  red  as  blood ! 

Not  until  they  had  entered  harbour  and  were 
close  alongside  Daland's  ship  did  the  crew  furl  sail 
or  cast  anchor.  So  quickly  and  noiselessly  was  the 
canvas  dropped  that  the  ship  rode  at  anchor  before 
any  of  the  other  crew  were  even  aware  of  their  ap- 
proach. Then  a  boat  was  lowered  from  the  new- 
comer's side,  and  the  captain  entered  it  and  was 
rowed  ashore.  He  was  a  strange-looking  man, 
with  long  black  hair,  heavy  eyebrows,  and  a  hunted 
expression  about  the  eyes.  His  skin  was  fair,  de- 
spite his  many  other  evidences  of  long  sailing,  and 
he  had  a  certain  air  of  gentleness  and  sadness  which 
lent  him  an  attractive — almost  handsome — appear- 
ance. His  crew  were  even  stranger  in  looks,  for 


236  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

they  all  seemed  to  be  old  men,  grey  and  withered, 
despite  the  vigorous  strokes  with  which  they  sent 
the  long-boat  flying  through  the  waves. 

As  the  boat  grated  upon  the  sand  the  captain 
breathed  a  great  sigh  of  relief,  and  leaped  ashore 
without  heeding  the  shallow  water  between  him  and 
dry  land.  He  walked  with  the  stiffness  of  a  man 
who  has  long  felt  under  his  feet  only  the  rolling 
decks  of  a  ship.  The  first  rock  he  met,  jutting  out 
of  the  beach,  he  fell  upon  his  knees  and  embraced, 
out  of  very  gladness  to  be  on  firm  ground!  Then 
he  mounted  the  crag  and  looked  landward. 

"Seven  long  years!"  he  mused.  "Thank  God, 
that  I  am  permitted  to  set  foot  upon  dry  land  once 
more !  When  will  my  weary  voyaging  cease,  and  I 
become  free  of  this  fickle  ocean?" 

It  was,  as  you  have  doubtless  guessed,  the  Flying 
Dutchman,  home  on  another  search  for  the  woman 
who  would  release  him  from  his  spell. 

Just  then  his  musings  were  cut  short  by  a  voice 
hailing  him.  "Skipper,  ahoy!"  it  said. 

Daland  had  awakened  out  of  his  slumber  and 
come  on  deck  to  find  his  helmsman  asleep  and  the 
strange  ship  anchored  close  by.  He  was  both 
startled  and  provoked,  but  seeing  the  captain  on 
shore  he  now  addressed  him  through  a  speaking 
trumpet. 

"Whence  come  you?"  he  asked,  seeing  the  stran- 
ger turn  and  look  at  him. 


THE  FLYING  DUTCHMAN  237 

For  answer,  the  Dutchman  made  a  wide  sweep 
with  his  arms  and  then  beckoned  to  Daland.  Some- 
thing in  his  manner  so  aroused  the  latter's  curiosity 
that  he  ordered  a  boat  lowered  and  rowed  over  to 
the  beach. 

"My  name  is  Daland,  a  skipper  of  Norway,"  he 
said.  "Whence  and  who  are  you?" 

"I  am  a  Dutchman  and  I  have  been  around  the 
world  since  I  last  set  foot  here,"  answered  the 
stranger  in  a  low  voice. 

"I  should  think  you  would  be  glad  to  come  ashore 
again,"  said  Daland.  ffl  am,  for  I've  had  a  pre- 
cious rough  voyage  of  it.  Did  you  meet  any 
storms?" 

The  Dutchman  smiled.  "  Nothing  but  storms," 
he  said,  "but  my  ship  will  weather  the  best  of  them." 

"What  cargo  do  you  carry?"  asked  Daland, 
mindful  of  his  own  unlucky  experience. 

"Oh,  weighty  enough:  I've  been  trading  in  gold 
and  precious  stones,"  said  the  stranger  indiffer- 
ently. 

An  eager  look  came  into  Daland's  eyes.  "I 
should  think  you  would  hate  to  throw  over  any  of 
that!"  he  said. 

"There  are  a  good  many  things  I  value  more 
highly,"  replied  the  other.  "I  have  known  the  time 
when  I  would  gladly  give  it  all  for  a  little  corner 
of  dry  land  where  I  might  live  in  peace." 


238  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

"And  I,"  laughed  Daland,  "leave  my  little  cor- 
ner and  cruise  around  the  world  in  search  of  that 
same  gold." 

It  was  now  the  stranger's  turn  to  become  inter- 
ested. 

"Do  you  live  near  here?"  he  asked. 

"Aye,  just  around  the  next  headland.  There's 
a  cosy  hearthstone  and  cheering  cup  awaiting  me 
there,  and  I  should  have  been  there  now,  if  it  had 
not  been  for  this  wretched  storm." 

"Perhaps  it  has  blown  you  a  little  good  luck,"  re- 
plied the  Dutchman ;  "that  is,  if  you  really  care  for 
money." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"Just  this.  I  was  in  earnest,  awhile  ago,  when 
I  said  I  would  give  all  my  gold  for  a  plot  of  dry 
land.  My  heart  is  hungry  for  a  bit  of  home  life; 
and  if  you  will  let  me  be  your  guest  while  we  are 
ashore,  I  shall  make  you  a  rich  man." 

"Do  you  mean  that?"  asked  Daland,  staring  at 
him. 

"I  will  pay  you  in  advance,"  said  the  stranger. 
And  he  blew  a  shrill  whistle  to  his  crew  and  shouted 
out  some  orders  in  a  strange  tongue.  In  answer 
some  of  the  curious-looking  sailors  ran  down  into 
the  hold  and  came  up  again  bearing  a  heavy  chest 
which  they  brought  to  the  strand  and  opened. 

There  before  Daland's  greedy  eyes  lay  revealed 


THE  FLYING  DUTCHMAN  239 

a  glittering  mass  of  precious  stones  and  fine  gold, 
richer  than  anything  of  which  he  had  ever  dreamed. 
His  fingers  twitched  and  he  fairly  gasped  with 
amazement. 

"Gorgeous!"  he  exclaimed.  "You  must  be  the 
happiest  man  in  the  world  to  have  all  that!" 

"Happy?"  said  the  other,  in  a  sad  voice.  "Of 
what  use  is  this  treasure  if  I  have  no  treasure  of 
the  heart — no  home,  no  wife,  no  family  ties?  For 
years  I  have  wandered  alone,  till  my  soul  is  weary ; 
and  what  I  have  longed  for,  it  has  been  beyond  the 
power  of  this  paltry  stuff  to  supply!" 

And  the  Dutchman  snapped  his  fingers  in  con- 
tempt at  the  chest. 

D  aland  who  was  really  good  of  heart  was 
touched  by  the  stranger's  words. 

"Come  home  with  me,"  he  said.  "With  or  with- 
out reward  you  shall  have  the  best  my  modest  table 
affords,  and  my  daughter  Senta  shall  cook  and 
serve  it  with  her  own  hands." 

"Then  you  have  a  daughter?"  asked  the  stranger 
turning  quickly.  "How  old  is  she?" 

"She  is  grown  now,  though  I  can  scarcely  think 
of  her  save  as  a  little  girl.  Winsome  is  she,  as  all 
my  neighbours  say,  and  a  better  girl  never  lived. 
My  will  has  been  her  law  ever  since  her  mother 
died." 

"Hark  you,  man!"  said  the  stranger,  gripping 


240  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

his  hand  and  speaking  swiftly  and  earnestly.  "You 
must  judge  me  by  what  you  see  of  me.  But  if  you 
will  promise  me  your  daughter's  hand,  provided  I 
win  her,  all  that  this  chest  contains  shall  be  yours !" 

Daland  looked  at  the  stranger  keenly.  His 
clear-cut  face  and  noble  bearing  told  strongly  in 
his  favour. 

"She  is  my  only  child,"  the  Norwegian  answered 
presently,  "but  I  promise  to  further  your  suit.  As 
you  are  generous,  you  show  me  a  good  and  noble 
heart.  Yes,  I  should  be  glad  to  see  you  my  son- 
in-law.  And  were  your  wealth  not  half  as  great, 
I'd  not  choose  another." 

A  glad  smile  broke  over  the  wandering  seaman's 
face  as  he  heard  these  words.  And  as  if  in  sym- 
pathy the  sun  broke  forth  from  the  bank  of  clouds 
in  the  western  sky,  the  wind  died  down  and  the 
water  grew  calm. 

"See!  it  is  to  be  clear  weather,  after  all!"  he  ex- 
claimed. 

"Yes,  we  can  make  the  home  harbour  by  night- 
fall. Come,  let  us  weigh  anchor  and  hoist  sail!" 
said  Daland. 

"Lead  on,  and  I  will  follow  you  presently.  I 
have  some  sails  to  mend,"  replied  the  Dutchman. 
He  well  knew  that  his  ship's  strange  appearance 
and  red  sails  would  arouse  comment  if  he  entered 
the  harbour  before  night. 


Daland  looked  at  the  stranger  keenly 


THE  FLYING  DUTCHMAN  241 

"So  be  it!"  agreed  D aland;  and  he  went  on 
board  ship  and  ordered  all  sails  set.  Before  a  brisk 
little  breeze  his  vessel  scudded  out  of  harbour,  while 
the  sailors,  delighted  with  the  prospect  of  soon  being 
at  home  after  their  long,  rough  voyage,  sang  a  rol- 
licking song  ending  with  the  shout,  "Hoho!  Hal- 
loho!" 

While  her  father's  ship  was  nearing  harbour  that 
afternoon,  Senta  was  in  the  midst  of  a  merry  group 
at  her  home.  Several  of  her  girl  friends  had  come 
to  pay  her  a  visit,  and,  according  to  the  quaint  Nor- 
wegian custom,  they  had  brought  their  spinning- 
wheels  with  them  so  that  they  might  not  be  idle 
during  the  daylight  hours.  Now  the  wheels 
whirred  and  the  maidens  chattered  at  a  lively  rate. 
But  strange  to  say,  Senta  was  the  idlest  of  the  lot. 
Her  hands  would  fall  into  her  lap,  and  her  gaze 
would  wander  into  space.  She  was  indeed  a  lovely 
picture  as  she  sat  thus,  her  great  dark  eyes  glowing 
and  the  rich  colour  coming  and  going  in  her  cheeks, 
called  up  by  the  romantic  visions  she  saw. 

"What,  dreaming  again,  Senta?"  exclaimed  her 
old  nurse  and  housekeeper,  Maria,  entering  at  one 
of  these  idle  moments.  "You  are  setting  your  visi- 
tors a  fine  example!  And  what  if  your  father 
should  come  home  and  see  you  dawdling  thus?" 

Senta  flushed,  smiled,  and  took  up  her  flax.  The 
other  girls  laughed  mischievously. 


242  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

"You  oughtn't  to  have  told  her  that  old  ballad, 
Maria!"  they  said.  "Now  she  can't  get  her  mind 
off  the  Flying  Dutchman.  She  sits  here  and  gazes 
at  his  picture  by  the  hour." 

There  was  indeed  an  old  print  supposed  to  be  a 
likeness  of  the  wandering  seaman,  on  the  wall.  It 
had  been  picked  up  with  many  other  curious  things 
by  Daland  upon  his  travels ;  and  Maria  who  knew 
a  ballad  telling  of  the  Dutchman's  weary  search  for 
a  wife  had  recited  it  to  them.  The  story  was  just 
of  the  sort  to  attract  Senta. 

"  'Tis  strange,"  she  murmured,  as  though  speak- 
ing to  herself,  "strange  that  the  poor  Flying  Dutch- 
mas  is  doomed  to  sail  on  forever,  because  he  can 
find  no  one  who  will  love  him  till  death  1  Are  we 
maidens,  then,  all  so  fickle  and  heartless?" 

"No,  we  are  not  heartless,  at  any  rate!"  laughed 
one  of  the  girls.  "But  who  wants  to  wed  the  cap- 
tain of  a  Phantom  Ship  that  comes  to  port  only 
once  in  seven  years?" 

"And  who  will  outlive  you,  and  marry  some  one 
else,  a  hundred  years  from  now?"  chimed  in  an- 
other. 

"No,  no!"  said  Senta;  "that  would  be  because 
you  did  not  love  him!" 

"But  who  could  love  him — a  ghost  like  that? 
Ugh!"  said  a  third. 

"I  could!"  exclaimed  Senta,  her  fine  eyes  flash- 


THE  FLYING  DUTCHMAN  243 

ing.  "If  I  knew  that  I  could  save  him,  I  would  de- 
vote myself  to  him  gladly!" 

"Oh,  Senta!  What  are  you  saying!"  cried  the 
girls  in  a  chorus. 

"You  forget  Erik!"  said  one. 

Erik  was  a  young  hunter  who  lived  in  the  moun- 
tains, and  who  was  devoted  in  his  attentions  to 
Senta.  She  had  always  liked  him,  having  grown 
up  with  him,  but  she  had  not  given  him  all  her 
love. 

"No,  I  do  not  forget  Erik,"  she  said  stoutly,  "but 
he  is  not  the  Flying  Dutchman." 

"Nor  do  I  want  to  be !"  exclaimed  a  hearty  voice, 
as  Erik  himself  burst  into  the  room.  "What  is  this 
I  hear,  Senta?  Be  careful,  or  I  shall  grow  jealous 
even  of  the  Flying  Dutchman!" 

He  greeted  the  visitors,  and  then  continued: 
"But  I  just  ran  in  to  tell  you  that  I  sighted  your 
father's  ship  rounding  the  headland,  and  back  of  it 
some  distance  is  another  vessel.  Doubtless  your 
father  is  bringing  guests  with  him,  so  you  had  bet- 
ter tell  the  good  Maria  to  bestir  herself." 

Senta  jumped  up  and  clapped  her  hands  at  the 
news  of  her  father's  return.  Instantly  the  whole 
room  was  in  confusion.  The  spinning-wheels  were 
quickly  set  aside,  and  the  maidens  helped  to  bring 
the  long  table  to  the  centre  of  the  room  and  set  it 
for  the  expected  company.  Then  they  hastily 


244  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

gathered  up  their  belongings  and  bade  their  hos- 
tess good-day,  leaving  her  alone  with  Erik. 

"What  was  this  I  heard  about  the  Flying  Dutch- 
man, Senta?"  he  asked  in  a  tender  voice. 

"I  was  just  expressing  pity  for  his  lonely  lot," 
she  answered. 

"Doesn't  my  loneliness  awaken  any  pity,  then?" 

"You  do  not  deserve  so  much  sympathy,"  she 
said  lightly.  "You  are  young  and  strong  and— 
well,  almost  any  of  the  girls  here  to-day  would 
show  you  some  interest.  But  the  poor  wandering 
seaman  is  compelled  to  sail  on  till  doomsday  be- 
cause nobody  cares." 

"Come,  come,  Senta,  you  must  be  jesting!"  said 
the  hunter,  growing  pale.  "You  surely  cannot 
place  this  spectre  ahead  of  all  of  us  flesh-and-blood 
people  in  your  regard !" 

"Why  does  the  thought  alarm  you  so?"  she  said 
evasively. 

"Because  of  a  dream  I  had.  It  was  so  real  that 
I  have  been  able  to  think  of  nothing  else  all  day." 

"Was  it  about — him?" 

"Yes,  it  was  about  the  Flying  Dutchman.  I 
dreamed  that  your  father  came  home  from  sea, 
bringing  with  him  a  mysterious  stranger  whom  no 
one  knew  anything  about,  except  that  he  was  very 
wealthy.  He  was  tall  and  gaunt,  with  pale  face, 
flowing  black  hair  and  eager-looking  eyes.  As 


THE  FLYING  DUTCHMAN  245 

soon  as  he  saw  you  he  could  not  keep  these  eyes  off 
of  you,  and  he  asked  for  your  hand  in  marriage." 

"And  I  consented?"  asked  Senta  breathlessly. 

"Oh,  Senta!  Yes,  you  left  me  at  once  and  went 
with  him.  I  followed  you  down  to  the  beach  im- 
ploring you  to  stay.  But  the  stranger  took  you 
on  board  his  ship,  and  hoisted  a  blood-red  sail.  You 
were  gone  with  the  Flying  Dutchman — lost — lost 
forever!" 

"No,  not  lost!"  she  cried.  "It  was  a  vision!  It 
was  my  destiny!" 

"Senta!  Senta!"  cried  Erik  almost  beside  himself 
with  grief ;  and  unable  to  control  his  emotion  longer 
he  rushed  from  the  house. 

And  then — as  if  in  answer  to  the  dream,  Senta 
thought — presently  the  door  opened  and  her  father 
came  in,  and  with  him1 — the  stranger!  He  was  like 
Erik's  description,  even  like  the  old  print  that  hung 
upon  the  wall;  and  as  he  directed  his  gentle  blue 
eyes  to  her  face,  Senta  knew  instinctively  that  this 
was  none  other  than  the  Flying  Dutchman  himself. 

Springing  to  meet  her  father,  she  hid  her  face 
upon  his  shoulder  and  burst  into  tears.  Daland 
kissed  her  and  patted  her  upon  the  cheek. 

"There,  little  daughter!"  he  said.  "Have  you 
really  missed  your  old  daddy  while  he  was  away? 
Well,  he  has  missed  you,  too.  But  you  are  forget- 
ting your  manners.  You  have  not  yet  greeted  our 
guest." 


246  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

Senta  had  by  this  time  regained  some  of  her  com- 
posure, and  she  now  turned  to  the  visitor  and 
greeted  him,  but  in  a  cold,  constrained  voice.  She 
was  in  reality  holding  herself  in  check,  for  her  whole 
heart  went  out  to  him. 

But  her  father  thought,  "She  is  cold,  the  little 
minx!  I  must  tell  her  my  wishes  in  this  matter, 
and  hint  about  the  chest  of  gold."  The  foolish  old 
captain  measured  everything  by  gold — even  his 
daughter's  affection,  but  this  only  showed  how  lit- 
tle he  understood  her. 

So,  while  the  evening  meal  was  being  prepared 
and  the  stranger  had  been  shown  to  his  room  to 
make  himself  ready,  Daland  took  his  daughter  aside 
and  told  her  what  little  he  knew  of  the  stranger; 
that  he  had  been  a  wanderer  without  kith  or  kin; 
and  that  he  had  immense  wealth  and  was  now  de- 
sirous of  settling  down  and  having  a  home  of  his 
own. 

"He  has  asked  me  to  receive  him  as  a  guest," 
Daland  concluded;  "and  he  has  also  obtained  my 
permission  to  sue  for  your  hand.  Will  you  be 
obedient  to  my  wish  in  this  as  heretofore,  and  con- 
sent to  become  his  wife?" 

"I  will  give  my  answer  to  him,  father,"  she  re- 
plied quietly,  "after  I  learn  from  his  own  lips  how 
much  or  little  he  needs  me." 

Daland  was  fain  to  be  content  with  this  reply, 


THE  FLYING  DUTCHMAN  247 

but  something  in  his  daughter's  tone  reassured  him, 
and  he  wisely  decided  not  to  press  the  matter  fur- 
ther until  the  stranger  had  been  given  the  chance  to 
urge  his  own  case. 

There  was  an  air  of  constraint  about  the  evening 
meal,  despite  the  host's  attempts  to  be  jovial  after 
his  long  absence.  'Tis  true  Senta  gave  a  willing 
ear  to  the  story  of  his  voyage,  and  asked  questions 
from  time  to  time  which  showed  how  anxious  she 
had  been  for  his  welfare  while  he  was  away.  But 
the  guest  courteously  evaded  all  inquiries  about  his 
own  wanderings,  and  though  he  strove  to  be  agree- 
able, it  was  plain  to  see  that  he  was  long  unaccus- 
tomed to  quiet  home  life  such  as  this. 

Finally  the  supper  was  over,  and  D  aland,  saying 
that  he  had  business  that  evening  in  the  village,  left 
Senta  and  the  stranger  alone. 

Then  the  girl,  with  an  almost  bursting  heart, 
heard  her  visitor  cross  the  room  slowly  and  come  to 
her  side. 

"Senta!"  he  said — and  there  was  both  authority 
and  entreaty  in  his  low  tone — "look  at  me!" 

She  raised  her  eyes  and  met  his  gaze  unflinch- 
ingly and  in  that  glance  each  saw  the  soul  of  the 
other  laid  bare  and  knew  that  each  was  beloved. 

"Senta,"  he  continued,  taking  her  hand,  "I  am 
a  plain,  rough  man  of  the  sea,  and  know  not  how 
to  mend  my  speech  for  gentle  ears  like  yours.  But 


248  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

from  the  first  moment  I  saw  you,  I  loved  you.  And 
your  father  has  already  given  his  consent  to  my  suit. 
What  is  your  answer?  Do  I  read  your  eyes 
aright?" 

"Yes,"  she  answered  simply;  "it  was  Fate  that 
brought  you  to  me." 

The  seaman  felt  a  great  wave  of  joy  rush  over 
him.  He  was  loved  1  Freedom  from  the  Evil 
Spirit  was  within  his  grasp !  Then  for  the  first  time 
he  realised  how  much  he  was  asking  of  this  inno- 
cent young  girl.  A  curse  was  hanging  over  him; 
how  could  he  ask  one  he  loved  to  share  it? 

"Stay!"  he  said,  gently  releasing  her  hand,  "I 
have  no  right  to  obtain  your  promise  thus.  You 
do  not  know  who  I  am." 

A  bright  smile  broke  over  Senta's  face. 

"Ah,  but  I  do !"  she  exclaimed. 

"What!  Is  it  possible  that  you  know  I  am  a 
wretched  wanderer  over  the  earth — " 

"You  have  been,"  she  said. 

"That  men  look  upon  me  with  superstition  and 
dread—" 

"We  will  change  all  that." 

"In  short,  that  a  curse  is  upon  me?  Hear  me 
out!"  (He  raised  his  hand,  as  she  was  about  to 
speak  again.)  "Hear  me  out,  and  then  send  me 
forth  into  the  night,  where  I  belong !  I  sought  you 
selfishly  to-day,  to  obtain  your  aid  in  the  lifting  of 


THE  FLYING  DUTCHMAN  249 

this  curse,  of  which  I  speak.  The  Evil  One  has 
decreed  that  I  shall  wander  forever,  unless  some 
true  woman  gives  me  her  love  and  remains  faith- 
ful until  death.  If  her  faith  in  me  should  waver, 
the  curse  would  descend  upon  her  also.  Before 
I  had  even  seen  you,  I  asked  your  father  for  you, 
and  was  willing  to  sacrifice  you  to  my  own  selfish 
ends.  I  thought  not  at  all  of  what  I  asked  of  you! 
I  see  now  how  selfish  I  was,  and  I  release  you. 
Will  you  not  dismiss  me,  as  I  deserve?  I  shall  re- 
member you  only,  with  gratitude  for  the  glimpse  I 
have  had  of  your  brave  heart." 

"But  do  you  not  love  me?"  asked  Senta. 

"It  is  just  because  I  do  love  you  that  I  cannot 
ask  this  sacrifice,"  he  replied,  his  pale  face  showing 
the  struggle  through  which  he  passed. 

"Then  this  is  my  answer.  Here  is  my  hand;  my 
heart  goes  with  it,  and  even  to  death  will  I  be  faith- 
ful!" 

"She  gives  her  hand,  and  promises  to  be  faithful 
till  death!"  exclaimed  the  Dutchman,  shaking  his 
fist  as  if  at  some  unseen  foe.  "Dost  thou  hear  this 
—dread  Spirit?  I  am  free,  and  I  defy  thee!" 

And  falling  upon  his  knees  he  pressed  her  hands 
again  and  again  to  his  lips. 

Just  at  this  moment  Daland  re-entered  the  room, 
and  was  overjoyed  at  the  turn  of  affairs.  He  gave 
the  two  his  blessing,  saying: 


250  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

"To-morrow  I  give  a  feast  to  my  sailors,  accord- 
ing to  custom ;  and  with  your  permission  I  shall  an- 
nounce your  betrothal  at  once." 

The  next  day  dawned  bright  and  clear.  On 
board  the  Norwegian  ship  all  was  bustle  and  activ- 
ity. The  sailors  were  dressing  it  in  its  finest  pen- 
nants and  colours,  making  it  ready  for  the  visit  of 
the  townspeople  and  for  the  feast.  All  was  noise 
and  laughter  and  song,  for  they  were  as  delighted 
as  schoolboys  when  the  long-looked-f  or  vacation  has 
come. 

But  on  board  the  Dutch  vessel  everything  was  as 
quiet  as  the  grave.  No  one  was  seen  stirring  above 
decks,  and  not  a  flag  fluttered  except  a  single  tiny 
one  which  told  that  the  captain  was  gone  upon 
shore. 

Then  a  group  of  laughing  girls  came  down  to  the 
beach.  Most  of  them  we  have  already  seen  at 
Senta's  house.  They  brought  great  baskets  of  fruit 
and  dainties  to  the  sailors  and  when  Daland's  crew 
saw  this  treat  they  lost  no  time  in  coming  on  shore. 
But  still  the  Dutchman's  black  ship  gave  no  sign 
of  life. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  your  fellow-voyagers?" 
asked  the  maidens. 

"No  fellows  of  ours,"  answered  the  Norwegians, 
"we  never  saw  them  until  yesterday,  and  they 


THE  FLYING  DUTCHMAN  251 

haven't  budged  since  they  cast  anchor  last  night." 

"Hey,  sleepy-heads!"  called  out  the  girls  taunt- 
ingly. "Come  out  and  be  sociable!" 

"You  sleep  like  land-lubbers!"  called  a  sailor. 

But  no  answer  came  back. 

"Let  them  alone,"  said  another  sailor;  "if  they 
don't  care  for  good  things  to  eat  and  drink,  there 
will  be  just  that  much  more  for  us." 

"Greedy  fellows!"  laughed  the  girls. 

"Well,  if  I  was  as  old  and  grizzled  as  that  grey- 
beard crew  yonder,"  said  the  one  who  had  just* 
spoken,  "I  wouldn't  care  for  feasts  either — nor  yet 
for  pretty  girls."  Here  he  gave  a  sly  glance 
around. 

"They  look  like  the  crew  of  the  Phantom  Ship," 
said  another,  laughing.  And  lifting  his  voice  he 
called :  "  Ho  there,  old  black  ship !  What  has  be- 
come of  the  Flying  Dutchman?" 

At  this  call  a  cold  wind  swept  along  the  shore, 
so  that  all  the  merrymakers  shuddered,  and  a  name- 
less dread  seized  them.  Then  a  strange  thing  hap- 
pened. The  waves  in  the  harbour  remained  calm, 
while  just  around  the  black  ship  they  rose  and 
tossed  angrily  as  though  in  a  violent  storm.  It 
grew  dark,  the  wind  howled  through  the  rigging, 
and  weird  blue  lights  played  about  the  mast-heads. 
In  the  midst  of  the  miniature  tempest,  the  ship's 
crew  appeared  and  began  to  hoist  sail  as  though 


252  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

preparing  to  depart ;  and  as  they  worked  they  sang 
a  dirge-like  song  that  told  of  the  Flying  Dutchman 
and  his  seven-year  quest.  He  was  even  now  in 
search  of  the  wife  that  would  save  them  all,  they 
sang. 

This  scene  was  too  much  for  the  merrymakers. 
The  panic-stricken  maidens  fled  in  every  direction, 
while  the  sailors  seized  with  superstitious  fear  has- 
tened to  their  ship  and  ran  below,  making  the  sign 
of  the  cross. 

At  sight  of  the  panic,  the  strange  crew  burst  into 
wild  laughter,  and  the  storm  subsided  as  quickly  as 
it  had  arisen,  leaving  the  blue  sky  and  clear  water 
as  before. 

Just  then  the  door  of  Daland's  house  opened, 
and  Senta  appeared  and  came  down  to  the  beach. 
She  was  followed  by  the  hunter  Erik,  who  had  come 
to  plead  his  cause  once  again.  He  could  not  bring 
himself  to  believe  that  his  dream  was  coming  true, 
and  that  Senta  had  plighted  herself  to  the  mysteri- 
ous stranger,  as  he  had  just  heard.  He  reminded 
her  of  their  lifelong  comradeship,  and  how  he  had, 
even  as  a  little  boy,  claimed  her  as  his  future  wife. 

"Indeed  you  do  belong  to  me!"  he  exclaimed, 
carried  away  by  his  emotion.  "You  gave  me  your 
heart — you  know  you  did!  Now  you  cannot  take 
it  away  and  give  it  to  a  stranger!" 

"Oh,  Erik!  you  misjudge  me!"  Senta  replied, 


THE  FLYING  DUTCHMAN  253 

wounded  deeply  by  his  words.  And  sorry  for  his 
evident  distress  she  tried  to  comfort  him  with  sym- 
pathy and  tenderness.  She  could  not  bear  to  see 
her  old  playmate  suffer,  or  have  him  think  badly  of 
her. 

Her  attitude,  however,  was  misunderstood  by  a 
third  person  who  had  approached  unnoticed.  It 
was  the  Flying  Dutchman.  He  now  believed  that 
Senta  was  already  regretting  her  promise  to  him, 
and  with  a  wild,  despairing  cry  of  "Lost!  All 
lost!"  he  sprang  down  the  beach  and  prepared  to 
take  boat  for  his  ship. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Senta,  hastening 
towards  him. 

"Farewell,  Senta!"  he  cried.  "To  sea,  to  sea,  till 
time  is  ended!  I  release  you  from  your  promise! 
It  is  the  only  way  I  can  save  you  from  my  fate!" 

"Ah,  do  not  go!"  implored  Senta.  "I  will  not 
take  back  my  word.  I  love  you,  love  you !  I  knew 
you  from  the  first  moment  I  saw  you,  and  whereso- 
ever you  go,  there  will  I  go !" 

"Think  what  you  are  saying,  Senta!"  exclaimed 
Erik,  trying  to  restrain  her.  "They  say  that  he 
and  his  ship  are  bewitched!" 

"I  care  not  for  that!  My  place  is  by  his  side!" 
she  said,  struggling  to  free  herself. 

"Be  advised  by  your  friend,"  said  the  seaman, 
who  had  mastered  his  own  emotion  in  some  meas- 


254  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

ure.  "I  am  indeed  under  a  spell.  Ask  any 
mariner  who  sails  the  seas,  and  he  will  tell  you,  with 
a  shudder,  to  beware  of  the  Flying  Dutchman!" 

But  Senta  did  not  shrink  back  as  he  expected. 
Instead  she  stretched  out  her  arms  triumphantly, 
crying,  "Ah,  I  told  you  I  knew  you!  Now  you 
cannot  go  and  leave  me !  I  will  save  you  in  spite  of 
yourself!" 

Nevertheless  the  Dutchman  turned  away  as 
though  pushed  forward  by  some  unseen  power. 

"No!  'tis  I  who  must  save  you!"  he  exclaimed. 
And  going  aboard  his  ship  hastily  he  blew  his  whis- 
tle and  ordered  the  ship  to  be  got  under  way. 

It  had  grown  dark  again,  but  through  the  gloom 
the  blood-red  sails  glowed  like  a  flame,  while  a 
strange  signal-light  burned  in  the  prow,  and  the 
waves  lapped  eagerly  about  the  bow  as  it  began  to 
move  forward. 

With  a  shriek  Senta  endeavoured  to  follow,  but 
Erik  and  her  father,  who  had  just  run  up  with 
other  villagers,  held  her  back.  The  Phantom  Ship 
was  now  fast  leaving  the  harbour  and  directing  its 
course  to  the  headland,  when  Senta  by  a  quick 
movement  wrenched  herself  free  and  fled  swiftly 
along  the  shore  to  the  jutting  point  of  rock. 

"Senta,  you  are  beside  yourself!"  the  others 
cried,  trying  to  follow  her.  But  she  outdistanced 
them  all,  leaping  over  boulders  and  across  chasms 
in  her  flight,  till  she  had  reached  the  headland. 


THE  FLYING  DUTCHMAN  255 

The  Phantom  Ship  was  close  beneath  her  in  the 
seething  spray. 

"Senta!"  cried  Erik,  hastening  to  the  point  of 
rock  where  she  stood. 

But  she  did  not  heed  him.  Instead,  she 
stretched  out  her  arms  once  more  to  the  pale-faced 
man,  standing  in  the  prow  of  the  oncoming  vessel. 

"Here  stand  I,  faithful  even  unto  death!"  she 
exclaimed,  a  heroic  light  shining  in  her  dark  eyes. 
"Give  thanks  to  heaven  that  one  way  was  left  for 
your  salvation!" 

With  this  she  flung  herself  from  the  cliff  into 
the  raging  sea.  And  instantly — wonder  on  won- 
der!— the  waves  grew  calm.  One  last  leap  they 
gave  as  she  touched  them,  and  the  Phantom  Ship 
and  all  in  it  sank  as  she  disappeared  from  view. 
But  to  the  watchers  on  the  shore  a  beautiful  pic- 
ture was  given,  which  sent  them  their  separate 
ways  with  peace  in  their  hearts. 

Above  the  spot  where  the  Phantom  Ship  had 
gone  down,  never  to  be  seen  again,  a  rosy  light 
hovered,  making  as  it  were  a  path  leading  straight 
through  the  bursting  clouds  to  the  bright  sky  be- 
yond. And  in  this  glory  two  figures  were  seen 
hovering,  locked  in  each  other's  arms  and  rising 
upward.  They  were  the  radiant  spirits  of  Senta 
and  the  lover  she  had  saved.  The  Flying  Dutch- 
man's voyages  were  ended;  the  curse  was  lifted 
from  him  for  evermore. 


Tristan  and  Isolde 

(Tristan  und  Isolde) 

ONCE  upon  a  time  a  brave  knight  of  Brit- 
tany went  across  the  English  Channel  to 
the  court  of  King  Mark  of  Cornwall.  The 
knight  was  noted  for  his  valiant  deeds,  so  the  King 
was  right  glad  to  welcome  him  and  attach  him  to  his 
retinue.  The  knight  also  was  willing  to  tarry,  for 
the  King  had  a  sister  who  because  of  her  beauty 
was  called  the  "White  Lily."  Indeed,  the  knight 
had  fallen  deeply  in  love  with  this  fair  Princess, 
and  so  he  was  overjoyed  when  at  length  he  found 
that  his  love  was  returned.  He  obtained  the 
King's  consent  to  make  her  his  wife;  and  after  a 
splendid  ceremony  the  knight  and  his  lady  set  sail 
for  their  castle  in  Brittany.  Fate  had  so  smiled 
upon  them,  that  they  thought  themselves  the  hap- 
piest people  in  the  whole  world,  and  that  none  had 
been  so  favoured  as  they. 

But  after  a  few  short  months  of  wedded  life  the 
knight  fell  sick  and  died.     The  poor  bride  was 

It  will  be  interesting  to  compare  this  story  with  the  version  by 
Malory.  The  differences  are  characteristic  of  the  distance  between 
the  colder  ideals  of  Malory  and  the  warmer  and  more  human  age  of 
Wagner. 

•M 


TRISTAN  AND  ISOLDE  257 

broken-hearted,  and  although  a  little  boy  was  pres- 
ently given  to  her,  the  child  did  not  assuage  her 
grief.  Instead  he  reminded  her  constantly  of  the 
husband  she  had  lost.  She  called  the  boy's  name 
Tristan,  which  means  "sadness." 

Realising  that  she  would  soon  follow  her  beloved 
husband  she  entrusted  the  boy  to  a  trusty  knight, 
Kurneval  by  name,  to  be  taken  over  to  her  brother 
in  Cornwall.  Shortly  afterward  she  died,  and  the 
little  orphan  was  conveyed  to  his  uncle  as  the  mother 
had  desired. 

King  Mark  was  without  wife  or  children  of  his 
own,  so  he  gladly  received  Tristan  into  his  lonely 
home.  He  brought  him  up  as  his  own  son,  and 
publicly  proclaimed  him  heir  to  the  throne  of  Corn- 
wall. 

Tristan  grew  rapidly  in  beauty  and  strength, 
rinding  so  especial  a  delight  in  horsemanship  and 
knightly  warfare,  that  by  the  time  he  was  fifteen 
he  could  joust  with  the  best  of  the  knights.  Cour- 
teous in  speech  and  bearing  was  he,  likewise,  for  he 
had  been  carefully  trained  by  the  knight  Kurneval. 
And  so,  when  the  time  of  his  knighting  had  ar- 
rived, Sir  Tristan  was  already  famed  for  his  chiv- 
alry and  prowess  alike.  His  name  became  a 
proverb  for  true  knighthood,  and  there  was  no  man 
in  Cornwall  who  could  stand  against  him. 

A  few  years  before  this  time,  King  Mark  had 


258  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

been  defeated  in  battle  by  the  King  of  Ireland, 
and  had  promised  to  pay  him  a  yearly  tribute. 
Each  year  since  that  defeat  the  tribute  had  been 
collected  by  Sir  Morold  a  gigantic  knight  whom  all 
men  feared  because  of  his  courage  and  cruelty. 
His  demands  grew  heavier,  year  by  year,  until  at 
last  they  became  so  great  that  the  whole  country 
groaned.  Thus  it  went  on  until  Tristan  had  be- 
come a  knight,  when  eager  for  some  splendid  serv- 
ice to  prove  his  spurs,  he  resolved  to  put  an  end  to 
this  oppression.  So  he  challenged  the  huge  war- 
rior to  mortal  combat. 

The  challenge  was  promptly  accepted,  Morold 
liking  nothing  better  than  a  fight,  though — as  he 
expressed  it — he  greatly  feared  this  rash  youth 
would  not  last  long  enough  to  get  his  blood  warm. 
King  Mark  was  also  fearful  of  the  fate  of  his  fos- 
ter-son, but  the  word  had  gone  forth  and  could  not 
be  withdrawn. 

The  day  came  for  the  conflict,  and  many  anxious 
spectators  assembled  to  watch  the  champions  fight 
— the  one  for  the  honour  of  Ireland,  the  other  for 
the  freedom  of  Cornwall.  But  Morold  did  not  en- 
ter the  lists  fairly.  Enraged  that  any  one  should 
presume  to  oppose  him,  he  bore  a  poisoned  spear 
which  he  flung  at  Tristan  without  warning.  It 
made  a  slight  wound  which  was  unnoticed  in  the 
heat  of  the  conflict  that  immediately  began. 


TRISTAN  AND  ISOLDE  259 

The  young  knight  sprang  forward  with  sword 
drawn  and  met  his  towering  opponent  fiercely  but 
with  the  most  finished  skill.  Morold  soon  found 
that  he  had  met  more  than  his  match  at  sword  play, 
and  he  tried  by  his  superior  strength  to  beat  down 
his  antagonist.  But  in  this  also  he  was  defeated, 
after  a  thrilling  contest.  At  last  growing  rash  he 
raised  his  sword  and  brought  it  about  with  a  terrific 
swish  that  would  certainly  have  cut  Tristan  in  two, 
if  he  had  not  leaped  nimbly  backward.  Before 
the  Irish  knight  could  recover  himself,  Tristan 
sprang  forward  again  and  by  one  swift  stroke  cut 
his  head  from  his  body. 

Cornwall  was  now  free,  and  instead  of  sending 
his  yearly  tribute,  King  Mark  sent  the  head  of 
Morold  back  to  Ireland  to  show  this  freedom  for 
all  time  to  come.  Now  Morold  had  been  betrothed 
to  an  Irish  Princess  named  Isolde;  and  when  his 
severed  head  was  received  at  court,  she  swore  bit- 
ter vengeance  against  the  one  who  had  done  this 
deed.  Looking  closely  at  the  head,  she  chanced  to 
find  a  bit  of  sword-point  sticking  in  the  skull,  and 
she  knew  this  must  have  been  broken  from  the 
weapon  which  had  done  the  deed.  So  she  kept  the 
sword-point  carefully  by  her,  in  the  hope  that  it 
might  lead  her  to  find  her  enemy. 

Meanwhile  Tristan,  though  showered  with 
praises  from  the  court  and  people  he  had  delivered, 


260  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

was  faring  but  ill.  The  wound  from  the  poisoned 
spear  refused  to  heal.  The  best  physicians  of  the 
country  were  called  in,  but  the  wound  only  grew 
more  grievous  and  painful,  day  by  day.  Finally, 
when  Tristan  was  beginning  to  despair  of  his  life, 
an  old  soothsayer  told  him  to  go  to  the  land  whence 
the  wound  was  received  and  there  he  would  find 
an  antidote  for  the  poison.  So  Tristan  set  forth 
without  delay;  but  knowing  that  it  would  not  be 
safe  for  him  to  travel  in  Ireland  under  his  own 
name,  he  went  alone  as  Tantris  a  wandering  min- 
strel. 

The  fame  of  Isolde's  skill  in  mixing  draughts 
and  potions  presently  reached  his  ears,  and  he  di- 
rected his  steps  to  the  court.  Both  Isolde's  mother 
and  maid-servant  knew  the  secrets  of  drugs  and 
they  had  taught  her  many  of  these  arts.  So  when 
a  poor  minstrel  came  to  her  attention,  suffering 
from  a  poisoned  wound,  both  her  sympathy  and 
skill  were  enlisted,  and  all  the  more  because  he 
seemed  of  noble  bearing,  and  his  eyes  sought  hers 
in  an  appealing  way. 

So  Isolde  called  in  her  maid  and  they  undertook 
to  heal  Tristan  of  his  wound,  applying  many  bal- 
sams and  soothing  herbs.  It  was  a  long  time,  how- 
ever, before  even  their  skill  availed  and  the  harper 
began  to  rally  from  his  illness. 

It  chanced  one  day  while  he  slept,  that  Isolde  sat 


TRISTAN  AND  ISOLDE  261 

by  his  side  watching  the  progress  of  his  fever.  And 
as  she  sat  there  she  happened  to  notice  the  beauty 
of  his  sword-hilt,  and  wishing  to  examine  it  closely 
she  drew  the  sword  from  its  scabbard.  Suddenly 
she  saw  that  a  piece  was  missing  from  the  point. 
A  thought  occurred  to  her  that  made  the  blood  rush 
to  her  head.  She  hastened  to  the  place  where  she 
had  concealed  the  broken  piece,  and  placed  it  in  the 
gap.  It  fitted  exactly.  She  had  been  nursing  her 
sworn  enemy! 

Just  then  Tristan  called  to  her,  and  she  turned 
and  went  to  his  bedside  with  the  blade  uplifted 
ready  to  strike.  Neither  spoke,  but  he  read  her 
purpose  to  slay  him  in  her  face  and  action;  yet  he 
did  not  flinch.  He  merely  looked  up  sadly  and 
tenderly  with  those  eyes  which  she  had  found  it 
hard  to  resist,  the  first  time  she  ever  saw  him.  And 
instantly,  she  knew  not  why,  the  sword  fell  from 
her  hand  clashing  upon  the  floor. 

After  that  she  continued  to  nurse  him  more  ten- 
derly than  ever,  but  without  either  of  them  saying 
a  word  about  the  incident.  Her  care  and  skill 
were  rewarded,  and  at  last  Tristan  was  wholly  re- 
covered and  ready  to  set  sail  for  home.  Still  he 
did  not  speak  to  the  Princess  of  the  strange  new 
feeling  that  possessed  him,  for  he  thought  that  only 
pity  on  her  part,  for  his  defenceless  state,  had  saved 
his  life  on  that  day  when  she  guessed  the  truth. 


262  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

He  contented  himself  with  thanking  her  in  the  best 
phrases  his  oddly  faltering  tongue  could  repeat; 
begged  permission  to  kiss  her  hand  in  token  of  the 
gratitude  he  could  not  utter;  and  asked  leave  to 
return  upon  some  future  day. 

When  he  had  come  to  the  court  of  Cornwall,  he 
found  the  King  overjoyed  to  see  him,  for  he  had 
given  him  up  as  dead.  To  the  King  and  court  he 
related  his  adventures,  praising  without  stint  the 
beauty  and  kindness  of  the  Princess  Isolde.  In- 
deed he  spoke  with  such  youthful  enthusiasm  that 
it  unwittingly  set  his  hearers  to  thinking.  Some  of 
the  courtiers  had  long  been  jealous  of  Tristan  and 
wished  to  keep  him  from  the  throne.  They  had 
been  trying  to  persuade  the  King  to  seek  a  wife 
and  thus  provide  a  son  of  his  own  for  the  kingdom. 
Now  they  urged  him  to  ask  for  the  hand  of  the 
Princess  Isolde.  It  would  cement  the  peace  of 
the  two  kingdoms,  they  said,  and  from  all  accounts 
she  was  indeed  worthy  to  be  his  Queen. 

King  Mark  pondered  long  over  this  advice,  and 
asked  many  questions  of  the  unsuspecting  Tristan ; 
and  the  more  the  monarch  thought  of  it,  the  more 
the  picture  of  Isolde  filled  his  fancy.  Finally  he 
decided  to  send  a  formal  request  for  her  hand ;  and 
as  Tristan  was  familiar  with  the  Irish  court  he  was 
entrusted  with  the  embassy. 

The  request  of  the  King  sent  a  sudden  chill 


TRISTAN  AND  ISOLDE  263 

through  Tristan's  heart.  He  realised  all  at  once 
how  much  Isolde  meant  to  him.  But  his  uncle  had 
been  a  father  to  him,  and  he  could  not  requite  his 
kindness  in  any  other  way  than  by  obedience.  So 
he  gave  no  outward  sign,  and  prepared  to  execute 
his  hard  task. 

When  messengers  came  to  Isolde  and  told  her 
that  Sir  Tristan  was  come  to  seek  audience  with  her, 
her  heart  leaped  for  joy.  Surely,  she  thought,  he 
had  come  in  his  own  proper  guise,  as  he  promised,  to 
say  the  things  he  dared  not  utter  when  he  went 
away.  So  she  hastened  to  greet  him  and  show  him 
all  graciousness.  But  when  she  learned  the  truth  of 
his  errand,  her  new  hopes  were  dashed.  Anger  and 
pride  took  their  place,  that  she  should  be  rejected 
by  this  man  whom  she  had  cared  for — and  pardoned 
despite  her  oath  of  vengeance!  But  hiding  her 
emotions  she  instantly  resolved  to  go  to  King  Mark 
and  become  his  Queen,  without  letting  the  world — 
least  of  all,  Sir  Tristan — know  how  she  suffered. 

To  the  King  and  Queen  of  Ireland  the  news  of 
the  embassy  was  welcome.  They  had  become 
weary  of  the  feud  with  Cornwall  and  were  glad 
to  conclude  the  peace  and  ally  their  house  with  that 
of  King  Mark.  They  received  the  ambassador, 
therefore,  with  every  sign  of  honour,  and  held  feast- 
ing and  revelry  until  he  should  conduct  the  Prin- 
cess to  his  ship. 


264  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

But  through  it  all  Isolde  remained  cold  and  si- 
lent. Her  conduct  alarmed  her  mother,  who 
wished  her  to  be  contented  in  the  new  home  she  was 
entering.  So  the  Queen  brewed  a  powerful  love 
potion  which  she  entrusted  to  Isolde's  maid,  Bran- 
geane,  telling  her  to  give  the  potion  to  Isolde  and 
her  husband  on  the  day  of  their  wedding,  when  it 
would  fill  their  hearts  with  mutual  love  and  cause 
their  after  lives  to  be  happy. 

So  Tristan  conducted  Isolde  to  his  ship  and  set 
sail  for  Cornwall;  and  of  the  deep  love  which  had 
come  to  fill  his  own  heart  he  uttered  no  word;  nor 
so  much  as  by  a  look  or  sign  would  he  betray  the 
trust  reposed  in  him  by  his  uncle  the  King.  In- 
deed, Tristan  went  to  the  farther  side  of  caution, 
and  when  the  Princess  was  once  upon  shipboard 
he  did  not  linger  in  her  presence  or  speak  with  her, 
but  busied  himself  with  the  steering  of  the  vessel. 

This  courteous  reserve  Isolde  did  not  under- 
stand. She  had  been  accustomed,  all  her  life,  to 
much  attention  and  to  seeing  her  lightest  wish 
obeyed.  And  now  it  angered  her  more  than  ever 
that  Tristan — who  owed  her  so  much1 — should  treat 
her  like  the  veriest  stranger.  She  endured  his  neg- 
lect in  sullen  silence  until  the  last  day  of  the  voy- 
age, when  the  ship  was  within  sight  of  the  shores 
of  Cornwall.  Then  despair  at  the  thought  of  be- 
coming the  bride  of  a  man  she  had  never  seen,  and 


TRISTAN  AND  ISOLDE  265 

anger  at  the  conduct  of  Tristan,  overcame  her.  In 
a  violent  outburst  she  lamented  her  fate  and  wished 
that  the  waves  could  rise  and  swallow  her  up. 

Brangeane  her  maid  was  alarmed  at  this  unusual 
mood  and  endeavoured  to  calm  her.  Finally  Isolde 
raised  her  head  and  looked  out  through  the  door- 
way. She  was  in  a  pavilion  on  a  raised  portion  of 
the  deck,  which  commanded  a  view  of  the  entire 
ship.  As  she  looked,  her  eyes  rested  upon  Sir 
Tristan  who  stood  at  the  wheel  steering  the  vessel. 
His  brown  muscular  arms  were  bare,  as  also  was 
his  head  save  for  a  wealth  of  soft  brown  curls.  A 
cloak  fastened  about  his  shoulders  swept  in  grace- 
ful folds  to  his  feet.  His  whole  frame  spoke  of 
grace  and  strength.  But  his  clear  blue  eyes,  fas- 
tened intently  upon  the  vessel's  course,  had  a  tense 
look,  almost  stern  in  their  sadness.  He  seemed,  in- 
deed, to  be  fighting  a  hidden  grief. 

Isolde  pointed  to  him  and  asked  mockingly  of 
Brangeane : 

"What  think  you  of  our  fine  hero?" 

''Who — Sir  Tristan,  my  lady?  He  is  said  to  be 
the  bravest  and  knightliest  man  in  Christendom." 

"I  care  not  what  they  say.  He  is  an  arrant  cow- 
ard!" 

"Oh,  my  lady!" 

"He  is  a  coward,  I  tell  you!  Afraid  to  meet  a 
woman's  eyes!  Conducting  me  to  his  royal  mas- 


266  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

ter  as  though  I  were  some  kitchen  wench !  Go  you 
to  him  and  ask  him  why  he  has  neglected  our  pres- 
ence and  treated  us  so  coldly." 

"Shall  I  request  him  to  attend  upon  you?" 
"No.     Command  him!     Tell  him  it  is  the  Prin- 
cess Isolde  who  speaks  1" 

The  maid  was  reluctant  to  deliver  this  message, 
and  walked  slowly  along  the  deck.  But  finally  she 
paused  beside  the  wheel  and  said: 

"A  message,  my  lord,  from  the  Princess  Isolde." 
"Isolde!"     Tristan  started  at  the  name  and  al- 
most released  the  wheel.     Then  recovering  himself 
quickly  he  asked:    "What  is  my  lady  pleased  to 
say?" 

"She  commands  you  to  wait  upon  her." 
Tristan  paid  no  heed  to  the  wording  of  the  mes- 
sage, but  bade  the  maid  excuse  him  in  all  courtesy 
to  her  mistress,  saying  that  he  could  best  serve  her 
at  that  moment  by  steering  the  vessel  safely  be- 
tween the  dangerous  rocks  which  lay  off  the  coast 
of  Cornwall. 

The  gruff  old  knight,  Kurneval,  who  had  at- 
tended Tristan  upon  the  voyage,  broke  into  a 
scornful  laugh  when  he  chanced  to  hear  the  mes- 
sage of  the  Princess. 

"'Command'  forsooth!"  he  exclaimed.  "The 
slayer  of  Morold  is  the  vassal  of  no  one,  be  she  even 
a  queen!" 


TRISTAN  AND  ISOLDE  267 

Isolde  overheard  this  speech,  and  when  her  maid 
returned  to  her,  bearing  Tristan's  refusal,  her  pas- 
sion knew  no  bounds. 

"Do  you  know  who  this  ingrate  is,  who  cannot 
find  a  moment's  time  for  me?"  she  cried.  "He  is 
the  minstrel  whose  life  I  saved  in  Ireland,  and 
whom  you  helped  me  to  nurse  1" 

"Can  it  be  possible!"  exclaimed  Brangeane. 
"But  'tis  strange  that  I  did  not  know  him  again!" 

"That  is  not  the  strange  part,"  continued  Isolde, 
storming.  "I  had  sworn  to  take  vengeance  upon 
the  slayer  of  Sir  Morold.  I  found  out  that  he 
was  the  slayer,  and  yet  I  pardoned  him !  And  this 
is  his  gratitude!" 

"My  lady,  my  lady!"  said  Brangeane,  trying  to 
soothe  her  mistress.  "Perchance  Sir  Tristan  is  not 
to  blame  for  this.  He  is  serving  his  King ;  and  he 
shows  you  only  the  more  honour,  that  he  should 
woo  you  for  the  King  instead  of  for  himself." 

"But  I  care  not  a  whit  for  the  King!  Why 
should  they  all  be  forcing  me  into  this  loveless 
marriage1 — into  a  life  of  misery?" 

"No,  no,  not  that!"  replied  Brangeane  eagerly. 
"It  is  your  mother's  dearest  wish  that  you  should 
be  happy.  See  this  casket?  It  contains  a  love 
potion  which  she  brewed  for  you,  and  which  will 
fill  your  heart  and  that  of  your  husband  with  the 
truest  devotion." 


268  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

The  sight  of  the  potion  diverted  Isolde's  mind 
into  other  channels.  It  reminded  her  that  she  her- 
self could  brew  drinks  and  mix  powders.  She  be- 
gan at  once  to  prepare  a  deadly  poison,  quietly 
telling  her  maid  that  it  would  make  her  forget  her 
unhappy  past. 

By  the  time  she  had  finished  brewing  this  drink 
of  death  the  ship  had  almost  reached  its  anchorage ; 
and  Kurneval  entered  to  announce  that  they  would 
speedily  land,  and  that  Sir  Tristan  awaited  to  es- 
cort her  to  the  King. 

Isolde  drew  herself  up  proudly. 

"Go  back  to  Tristan,"  she  said,  "and  say  that 
we  await  him  here.  We  will  not  leave  this  place 
until  he  appears  to  offer  an  apology  for  his  rude- 
ness !" 

Kurneval  was  moved  to  make  some  retort  to  this, 
but  deeming  that  diplomacy  was  the  wisest  plan 
he  returned  to  Tristan  and  advised  him  to  wait 
upon  the  irate  Princess. 

Isolde,  meanwhile,  handed  the  poison  flask  to  her 
maid,  saying,  "When  he  comes,  give  us  to  drink 
from  it.  We  have  much  to  forget,  and  I  would 
be  at  peace  with  the  world  this  day." 

"Oh,  my  lady!  What  is  it  you  would  have  me 
do?"  asked  Brangeane,  terrified  by  her  mistress's 
manner.  But  Isolde  pressed  her  hand  reassur- 
ingly. 


TRISTAN  AND  ISOLDE  269 

At  that  moment  Tristan  entered,  and  with  tones 
of  the  deepest  respect  he  asked  what  the  Princess's 
will  was  with  him.  But  Isolde  was  in  no  mood  to 
temporise,  and  she  reproached  him  haughtily  for 
his  treatment  of  her  during  the  voyage,  asking 
what  he  meant  by  such  neglect  to  her  station. 

It  was  such  language  as  one  would  address  to  an 
underling,  and  Sir  Tristan  drew  himself  up  with 
quiet  dignity,  replying  that  it  was  the  custom  in 
his  country,  when  an  ambassador  brought  a  bride 
home  to  his  lord,  to  refrain  from  intruding  his 
presence  during  the  journey. 

Isolde  replied  scornfully,  that  if  he  was  such  a 
strict  observer  of  custom,  he  would  do  well  to  recall 
one  other  which  he  had  overlooked. 

"What  is  that?"  asked  Tristan. 

"The  blood  ransom,"  she  answered,  "for  the  life 
of  SirMorold!" 

"But  that  feud  is  healed!"  he  responded  quickly. 
"There  is  now  peace  between  Cornwall  and  Ire- 
land." 

"But  not  between  Tristan  and  Isolde  1"  she  re- 
torted. And  she  recalled  to  him  the  time  when 
he  had  sought  her  care  in  disguise;  how  she  had 
discovered  his  identity  by  the  broken  sword,  and 
yet  had  spared  his  life  and  kept  his  secret  when 
her  own  land  was  filled  with  his  enemies.  His  life, 
she  now  claimed,  was  still  forfeit  to  her. 


270  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

Tristan  had  listened  to  her  with  varied  emotions, 
but  had  made  no  move  to  interrupt  her.  Now 
with  an  indescribable  air  of  sorrow  and  hurt  pride 
he  drew  his  sword  and  presented  it  to  her,  handle 
foremost. 

"It  is  the  same  weapon  that  slew  Sir  Morold  in 
fair  fight,"  he  said.  "If  you  so  bitterly  regret  his 
death  and  your  previous  kindness  to  me,  I  pray  you 
slay  me!" 

"Nay!"  she  answered,  her  face  growing  pale  and 
red  by  turns.  "Such  deed  would  ill  requite  King 
Mark,  whose  ambassador  you  are.  But  we  will 
declare  a  truce,  if  you  will  drink  the  usual  cup  of 
peace  with  me  before  we  land." 

And  turning  to  Brangeane  she  commanded  her 
to  pour  out  a  drink.  The  maid,  pale  and  trem- 
bling, turned  to  fill  the  cup.  Sounds  from  without 
now  told  them  that  the  vessel  was  coming  to  an- 
chor. Isolde  took  the  cup  and  handed  it  to  Tris- 
tan. 

"Your  unwelcome  voyage  is  over,"  she  said 
darkly,  looking  into  his  eyes,  "will  you  drink  with 
me?" 

Tristan  took  the  cup.  He  knew  that  Isolde  had 
been  plotting  his  death,  and  he  now  suspected  that 
the  drink  was  poisonous.  Yet  death  seemed  wel- 
come to  him  at  this  moment. 

"I  thank  you,"  he  said  calmly.     "I  drink  in  glad- 


The  two  stood  silent  looking  at  each  other 


TRISTAN  AND  ISOLDE  271 

ness,  giving  you  my  oath  of  truce  for  all  time — 
the  honour  and  the  pain  of  Tristan!" 

He  put  the  cup  to  His  lips  and  began  to  drink. 
But  before  he  had  drunk  half  its  contents,  Isolde 
with  a  suppressed  cry  snatched  it  from  his  hands 
and  drained  the  rest.  Then  the  massive  cup  fell 
to  the  floor,  unheeded,  and  the  two  stood  silent, 
looking  at  each  other. 

Only  a  few  moments  they  remained  thus,  and 
yet  it  seemed  ages  to  them.  The  drug  had  begun 
to  take  effect  in  a  strange,  unaccountable  way. 
Instead  of  the  icy  chill  of  death,  which  they  had  ex- 
pected to  sweep  through  their  veins,  there  came  a 
wonderful  tingle  of  life  and  love  and  bliss,  all  in- 
termingled in  a  splendid  wave  drawing  each  nearer 
to  the  other. 

"Tristan!" 

"Isolde!" 

The  cries  burst  from  their  lips,  as  though  they 
were  in  a  trance ;  and  forgetful  of  the  whole  world 
without,  each  sprang  forward  and  was  clasped  in 
the  other's  arms. 

"Alas!  What  have  I  done?"  moaned  Bran- 
geane,  wringing  her  hands.  In  her  terror  at  giving 
the  brew  whose  contents  she  feared,  she  had  poured 
the  love  potion  in  its  stead.  Now  she  dreaded 
lest  it  should  be  the  more  fatal  of  the  two  in  its 
consequences.  But  there  was  no  way  of  escape. 


272  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

The  voices  of  the  sailors  and  soldiers  on  the  near-by 
shore  proclaimed  the  fact  that  King  Mark  was  at 
hand.  Brangeane  hastily  seized  the  robe  and 
crown,  which  Isolde  was  to  wear,  and  placed  them 
upon  her  mistress,  urging  her  to  make  herself 
ready. 

Awakened  from  her  brief  dream  of  happiness, 
Isolde  suffered  herself  to  be  clad  in  the  royal  at- 
tire and  led  forward,  weak  and  almost  fainting,  to 
meet  her  future  husband. 

The  generous  and  courtly  King  received  her  with 
every  consideration.  Noting  that  she  was  faint 
and  pale,  which  he  thought  due  to  the  voyage,  he 
ordered  rooms  in  his  castle  to  be  set  aside  for  her 
and  her  maids ;  and  he  postponed  the  betrothal  feast 
and  other  public  events  until  she  should  be  strong 
enough  to  undergo  them.  He  and  all  his  court 
were  delighted  with  this  fair  Irish  Princess,  and 
looked  forward  to  the  time  when  she  should  adorn 
their  throne. 

The  rooms  set  aside  for  her  use  were  the  choicest 
in  the  castle,  opening  directly  out  upon  a  private 
garden.  Here  the  Princess  was  glad  to  take 
refuge  for  a  few  days,  and  thus  put  off  the  wed- 
ding as  long  as  possible.  She  knew  now  that  it 
was  the  love  potion  she  and  Tristan  had  swallowed, 
and  so  violent  was  her  passion  that  she  felt  she 
could  not  live  without  seeing  him.  So  she  pre- 


TRISTAN  AND  ISOLDE  273 

vailed  upon  Brangeane  to  set  a  signal  for  her  lover. 
A  light  was  to  be  left  burning  in  the  window  of  the 
tower,  and  when  it  was  extinguished  Tristan  knew 
that  he  would  find  Isolde  in  the  garden.  His  love 
was  no  less  ardent  than  hers,  and  he  impatiently 
awaited  the  secret  meeting. 

Now  there  was  one  knight  in  the  court  who  had 
long  tried  to  supplant  Tristan  in  the  King's  fa- 
vour. His  name  was  Melot,  and  he  was  wily  and 
treacherous.  Always  on  the  watch  to  trip  up  Tris- 
tan in  some  way,  he  had  noticed  his  confusion  and 
Isolde's  weakness  when  the  ship  had  come  to  land, 
and  had  rightly  guessed  the  cause.  So  he  now 
sought  to  surprise  the  lovers  at  a  meeting  and  then 
inform  the  King. 

Brangeane  had  noticed  Melot's  manner  and 
warned  her  mistress  against  him,  but  Isolde  was 
intent  upon  nothing  else  than  seeing  Tristan  again. 
Scarcely  was  darkness  come,  upon  the  eventful 
evening,  when  she  bade  the  maid  put  out  the  light 
which  was  to  summon  him;  and  when  Brangeane 
hesitated,  she  herself  extinguished  it. 

It  was  a  beautiful  moonlit  night  in  early  sum- 
mer, when  the  flowers  were  in  their  first  freshness 
and  fragrance.  It  seemed  to  the  Princess  that  all 
nature  was  rejoicing  in  her  love.  She  was  not, 
however,  paying  heed  to  the  blossoms  on  every  side. 
She  was  pacing  eagerly  back  and  forth  listening  for 


274  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

a  welcome  footfall.  She  had  not  long  to  wait,  for 
Tristan  sprang  quickly  through  the  shadows  to 
meet  her.  Gladly  the  two  greeted  each  other, 
without  reserve,  and  wandered  together  down  the 
path  talking  in  low  earnest  tones  of  the  happiness 
that  had  come  to  them.  Isolde  confessed  that  she 
had  planned  his  death  upon  that  fateful  day  on 
shipboard;  while  Tristan  said  he  had  expected  noth- 
ing less,  and  would  have  welcomed  it  at  her  hands. 

Meanwhile  the  faithful  maid  had  been  left  upon 
the  tower  to  keep  watch.  Several  times  she  called 
in  low  warning  tones  that  they  would  best  not  lin- 
ger, but  the  lovers  paid  no  heed  to  her,  until  Bran- 
geane  suddenly  gave  a  cry  of  alarm.  At  the  same 
instant  Kurneval  rushed  upon  the  scene  with  drawn 
sword,  imploring  Tristan  to  fly.  But  it  was  too 
late;  the  sound  of  horns  was  heard,  and  the  King 
and  Melot  appeared,  followed  by  a  hunting  party. 

Isolde,  covered  with  shame,  sank  upon  the 
ground.  Tristan  stood  in  front  of  her  trying  to 
shield  her,  but  his  own  head  was  bent  in  trouble  and 
he  did  not  meet  the  King's  gaze. 

"What  does  this  mean?"  demanded  the  latter. 

"It  means  that  my  doubts  have  been  correct,  your 
Majesty!"  answered  Melot.  "Sir  Tristan  has  not 
been  as  faithful  a  servant  as  you  supposed!" 

Grief  was  stronger  than  anger  in  the  King's 
heart.  He  had  loved  Tristan  like  a  son,  and  had 


TRISTAN  AND  ISOLDE  275 

gloried  in  his  knightly  honour.  He  told  Tristan 
this,  in  a  quiet  yet  stern  voice,  and  ended  by  ban- 
ishing him  from  the  kingdom. 

Tristan  was  almost  heart-broken.  He  realised 
that  his  punishment  had  been  but  just,  and  yet  he 
seemed  as  though  one  in  a  dream,  powerless  to 
stem  this  current  which  was  sweeping  him  away. 
He  did  not  answer  the  King,  but,  instead,  turned 
to  Isolde  and  asked  her  if  she  would  go  with  him 
into  exile.  She  replied  that  wherever  he  went, 
there  would  she  go,  even  to  death  itself. 

At  this  new  proof  of  her  devotion  Tristan's  joy 
swept  away  all  his  doubts  and  fears.  He  drew  her 
tenderly  to  him  and  turned  proudly  to  face  the 
King  and  his  party. 

"May  the  King  and  my  foster-father  pardon  me 
out  of  his  great  kindness,"  he  said  in  a  low  tone, 
"but  Isolde  has  elected  to  follow  me,  and  I  can  do 
nothing  less  than  protect  her.  Farewell!" 

The  King  still  stood  a  prey  to  conflicting  emo- 
tions. But  the  traitor  Melot,  enraged  at  the  turn 
of  affairs,  sprang  forward,  drawing  his  sword  and 
crying,  "Think  not  to  scape  so  easily,  villain!  I 
will  avenge  the  King!" 

"Ha,  it  is  you,  traitor,  who  would  protect  the 
King's  honour!"  said  Tristan  haughtily.  "Defend 
yourself,  Melot!" 

He  drew,  and  the  weapons  clashed  sharply.     But 


276  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

only  for  a  moment  did  they  meet.  Tristan  pur- 
posely lowered  his  guard,  and  before  any  one  could 
interpose,  Melot  had  struck  him  with  his  sword. 

"Disarm  him!"  commanded  the  King,  himself 
seizing  Melot's  arm.  Tristan,  sorely  wounded, 
sank  to  the  ground,  Isolde  clinging  to  him  and  sup- 
porting his  head,  while  Kurneval  strove  to  raise  his 
stricken  master. 

King  Mark  gave  orders  to  certain  of  his  attend- 
ants to  wait  upon  Kurneval,  and  then  strode  slowly 
and  sorrowfully  away.  He  realised  all  too  late 
the  injustice  he  had  done  his  nephew  in  sending 
him  upon  the  embassy,  but  he  could  not  understand 
this  breach  of  faith;  it  was  so  unlike  Tristan's 
knightly  honour.  It  seemed  to  the  old  King  that 
he  regretted  this  more  than  the  loss  of  his  fair  young 
bride. 

Kurneval  lost  no  time  in  conveying  his  master 
to  the  ancestral  home  in  Brittany.  Tristan  had  be- 
come unconscious,  and  only  the  promptest  care 
could  save  his  life.  Kurneval  vainly  tried  to  nurse 
him  back  to  health,  but  he  had  made  the  mistake 
of  leaving  Isolde  in  Cornwall.  For  her  Tristan 
continually  called  in  his  delirium,  and  her  skill 
and  loving  care  would  alone  avail  to  save  him. 
Kurneval  soon  realised  this  and  sent  messengers 
entreating  her  to  come  to  Brittany;  and  now  with 


TRISTAN  AND  ISOLDE  277 

the  return  of  the  next  ship  he  expected  her  to  ar- 
rive. 

On  the  day  when  the  ship  was  looked  for,  Tris- 
tan who  had  awakened  out  of  his  fever,  but  was 
very  weak,  lay  under  a  linden-tree.  He  had 
wished  to  look  at  the  blue  sky  again,  and  Kurn- 
eval  had  carried  his  couch  out  in  the  courtyard. 
The  place  had  long  been  deserted  and  was  now 
overgrown  with  vines  and  bushes.  The  ancient 
tower  was  crumbling,  and  the  huge  drawbridge  was 
in  ruins.  But  to  Kurneval  this  was  home,  and  he 
hoped  that  the  pleasant  air  and  old  surroundings 
would  benefit  his  master. 

Tristan  was  more  nearly  himself  to-day,  and 
asked  many  questions  about  how  he  had  come  here, 
how  long  it  had  been,  and  when  the  Lady  Isolde 
was  coming.  Kurneval  told  him  everything,  and 
said  that  the  Princess  was  looked  for,  that  very 
day. 

A  smile  broke  over  Tristan's  face  at  this.  "Ah  1 
then  I  will  live!"  was  all  he  said,  and  sank  into 
slumber  again. 

Meanwhile  a  shepherd  played  upon  his  pipe,  on 
the  rocks  below  the  castle,  looking  out  to  sea.  The 
melody  was  low  and  plaintive,  and  as  Kurneval 
listened  to  it  his  heart  sank;  for  he  had  posted  the 
shepherd  there  and  bidden  him  play  thus  sadly  so 
long  as  there  was  no  sail  in  sight.  Now  he  knew 


278  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

that  if  Isolde  did  not  come  that  day,  the  sun  would 
set  upon  his  master  for  the  last  time. 

And  now,  in  his  delirium,  Tristan  was  telling 
of  the  ship  which  was  bringing  Isolde  from  Corn- 
wall. 

"Do  you  not  see  it?"  he  asked.  "Look!  the  sails 
are  all  filled  up,  and  the  ship  is  steering  straight 
for  us.  How  high  the  waves  pile  up  about  the 
bows!  There  on  deck  is  Tier  pavilion,  just  as  it 
was  on  that  other  lonely  voyage.  And  see!  there 
she  stands  looking  eagerly  toward  me,  her  hair 
garlanded  with  flowers  and  her  arms  outstretched ! 
It  is  my  Isolde!  Mine!  She  is  forsaking  all  the 
world  and  its  thrones  to  come  to  the  side  of  a  poor 
outcast.  Ah,  why  is  that  music  so  sad?  They 
should  pipe  merrily  upon  my  wedding-day!" 

As  if  in  answer  to  his  last  words,  the  shepherd 
on  the  lookout  suddenly  changed  his  tune  and  piped 
shrilly  and  merrily.  The  faithful  Kurneval  sprang 
to  his  feet  and  ran  hastily  to  the  rocks.  Yes,  there 
was  a  broad  sail  and  it  was  heading  straight  for 
them.  And  on  the  deck  stood  a  slender,  white- 
robed  figure  that  waved  a  scarf.  Unable  to  re- 
strain himself,  Kurneval  hastened  back  to  the  sleep- 
ing knight. 

"My  lord,  my  lord!"  he  exclaimed,  shaking  him 
gently.  "Awake!  a  ship  is  sailing  straight  to  the 
foot  of  the  castle.  We  hope  it  may  be  the  Lady 
Isolde!" 


TRISTAN  AND  ISOLDE  279 

"Yes,  it  is  my  dear  lady,"  answered  Tristan,  sit- 
ting up.  "I  saw  her  in  my  dreams.  Go  to  her 
and  welcome  her  in  my  stead.  Hasten,  good 
Kurneval,  hasten!" 

Kurneval  urged  him  to  be  as  quiet  as  possible, 
and  went  to  obey  his  commands.  But  Tristan 
could  not  be  patient.  Not  knowing  what  he  did, 
he  rose  from  his  couch,  in  his  exertion  tearing  his 
bandages  loose  and  causing  his  wound  to  bleed 
afresh.  He  staggered  halfway  across  the  court- 
yard, dizzy  but  unconscious  of  pain;  for  clear  as  a 
bell,  from  the  rocks  below,  he  heard  his  beloved's 
voice:  "Tristan!" 

"She  is  coming1 — my  Princess!"  he  muttered. 
"That  is  the  voice  I  have  heard  in  my  dream." 

He  tried  to  answer  her,  but  could  not.  His 
knees  tottered  beneath  him  and  he  groped  blindly 
as  if  in  the  dark. 

"Tristan!"  called  the  voice,  nearer  this  time. 

"Isolde!"  he  answered  softly,  as  he  sank  to  the 
earth. 

But  the  voice,  weak  as  it  was,  had  reached  his 
beloved's  ears,  for  she  was  bending  over  him  try- 
ing to  raise  him  up  and  imploring  him  to  speak  to 
her  once  again. 

"See,  I  am  here,  Tristan — my  heart's  delight! 
I  came  as  speedily  as  might  be,  but  oh!  how  slow 
the  ship  sailed!  Did  you  not  hear  my  heart  calling 


280  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

to  you,  day  and  night,  Tristan,  Tristan,  Tristan! 
Now  you  will  get  well — you  must  get  well — and 
we  will  be  ah !  so  happy  here  in  Brittany !  But  are 
you  not  glad  to  see  me?  Beloved,  answer  me." 

But  the  voice  she  so  longed  to  hear  again  was 
stilled  forever.  Isolde  tried  in  vain  to  rouse  him, 
then  a  terrible  dread  seizing  her,  she  sank  uncon- 
scious across  his  lifeless  body. 

At  this  moment  Kurneval  was  called  from  the 
pathetic  sight  by  a  great  commotion  outside;  and 
the  shepherd  ran  to  him  crying  that  a  second  ship 
had  come  to  land  and  armed  men  were  disem- 
barking, followed  by  one  who  seemed  to  be  a  King. 
Kurneval's  first  glance  told  him  that  it  was  King 
Mark  himself.  Fearing  in  his  own  wild  grief 
that  the  monarch  was  pursuing  the  two  lovers,  he 
resolved  to  defend  the  castle  gate  to  his  last  breath. 

The  first  man  to  appear  was  Melot.  Kurneval 
drew  his  sword  and  rushed  upon  him. 

"Back,  thou  cursed  spy!"  he  exclaimed. 

"Peace,  fool!"  said  Melot.     "Unbar  the  gate!" 

"Not  to  such  as  thee!"  retorted  the  old  knight, 
and  began  to  engage  him  fiercely. 

"Stop  them!  We  come  in  peace!"  called  out  the 
voice  of  King  Mark. 

"Mistress!  Isolde!"  It  was  Brangeane's  voice 
that  was  now  heard. 

But  the  two  combatants  fought  on.  Presently 
Melot's  sword  inflicted  an  ugly  wound. 


TRISTAN  AND  ISOLDE  281 

"Ha,  master,  I  will  avenge  you  yet!"  cried 
Kurneval.  And  with  a  last  mighty  stroke,  de- 
livered as  he  sank  to  the  ground,  he  gave  Melot 
his  death  wound.  Then  the  old  knight  crept  slowly 
to  his  master's  side  and  tried  to  make  one  last 
stand  there,  but  sank  back  and  breathed  his  last. 

Just  then  King  Mark  burst  in  at  the  gate,  and 
paused  stricken  with  remorse  at  the  scene  which 
greeted  his  eyes.  Brangeane,  sobbing  aloud,  ran 
to  her  mistress  and  tried  to  revive  her.  The  maid 
was  frantic  with  remorse  for  she  felt  as  though  this 
tragedy  was  due  to  her.  She  had  confessed  to  the 
King  the  secret  of  the  love  potion,  and  he  had  at 
once  set  sail  to  assure  the  lovers  of  his  pardon  and 
affection.  He  understood  all  at  last,  but  now  it 
was  too  late. 

Brangeane  brought  her  mistress  to  consciousness, 
and  implored  her  to  greet  the  King. 

"He  comes  as  your  friend,  and  Sir  Tristan's," 
she  said;  "he  is  here  to  aid  you." 

King  Mark  then  hastened  to  speak  to  her,  gently 
and  kindly.  In  his  courtesy  he  asked  her  pardon 
for  the  harm  he  had  unwittingly  done. 

But  Isolde  paid  no  heed  to  his  words.  Her  gaze 
was  fixed  upon  Tristan,  and  when  she  spoke  it  was 
in  praise  of  his  constancy  and  truth.  Then  she 
told  of  a  glorious  land  to  which  they  both  were  go- 
ing, where  they  should  dwell  free  from  sorrow  and 
care  and  heart-break. 


282  STORIES  FROM  WAGNER 

"I  know  not  where  it  is,"  she  murmured,  "but  I 
know  my  Tristan  will  be  there,  and  that  will  be  for 
me  a  bliss  supreme!" 

A  radiant  smile  overspread  her  face  as  she  ended, 
and  with  a  soft  sigh  her  heart  broke  and  she  sank 
down  and  nestled  her  head  close  against  that  of 
Tristan.  And  while  a  sunset  glory  shone  through 
the  trees  of  the  old  courtyard  and  illumined  the 
scene,  as  though  it  were  some  radiant  picture,  those 
who  stood  by  fancied  they  could  hear  strains  of 
music.  Near  and  yet  far-off  it  sounded,  clear  and 
sweet,  rising  in  soft  waves  as  though  bearing  the 
souls  of  these  two  weary  pilgrims  to  the  land  of 
rest  and  eternal  love. 


THE   END 


MT 
100 
W2M3 
Music 


McSpaciaen,   Joseph  Walker 
The  stories  of  Wagner1 
operas 


PLEASE  DO  NOT  REMOVE 
SLIPS  FROM  THIS  POCKET 


UNIVERSITY  OF  TORONTO 
LIBRARY