DER RING DES NIBELUNGEN (“The Ring of the Nibelungs”)

by Richard Wagner

Prelude: The Rhinegold

Argument. (as given by Jameson)

Scene I. The depths of the Rhine. Three Rhine-maidens guard the magical Rhine-gold which lies on the top of a rock. Alberich, a Nibelung,

approaches and, fascinated by their beauty, clumsily and unsuccessfully makes love to each in turn. The sun rises and the Rhine-gold, touched

by its rays, floods the waters with golden light. Alberich, astonished, is told by the maidens of the magic power of the gold and how a ring

made of it confers unmeasured power on its possessor, if he forswears love. Alberich, enraged and disappointed in his ,wooing curses love and

steals the gold. The scene changes to

Scene II. An open place from which across the Rhine the newly built castle, Walhall, is visible. Wotan and Fricka lie asleep. On waking, Wotan

greets the castle, but Fricka reproachfully reminds him of the price to be paid to the Giants for building it, viz: the goddess Freia, the apples

from whose garden confer eternal yo9uth on the gods, if eaten daily. Freia enters, pursued by Fasolt and Fafner: the giants, who demand her

as the promised reward of their work. Wotan temporizes with them until the entrance of Loge, the fire god, who has engaged to save the

goddess. Tempted by Loge’s account of the marvels of the Rhine-gold, the giants offer to take it in lieu of Freia, whom, however, they take

away with them as a hostage until Wotan pays the gold. Wotan and Loge depart for Nibelheim. The scene changes to

Scene III. Nibelheim, the subterranean home of the Nibelungs. Wotan and Loge find Mime, Alberich’s brother, bewailing the fate of the

Niblungs, groaning under the tyranny Alberich exercises through the power of the Ring. Alberich enters presently and is induced by Loge to

exhibit the virtues of the ―Tarnhelm‖, a wishing cap, just made by Mime. He first transforms himself into a serpent, and then into a toad in

which form he is seized by Wotan and, on returning to his own shape, bound and carried off. The scene changes to

Scene IV. An open place, as in Scene II. Alberich dragged in by Loge, is forced to deliver up the hoard of gold he has amassed, together with

the Tarnhelm and the Ring. When then released from his bonds, he solemnly curses the Ring and all future possessors of it and departs. Fricka,

Donner and Froh enter, followed soon by the Giants who bring Freia back. They refuse to release her until fully paid and claim the Ring as

well as the hoard and the Tarnhelm. This Wotan refuses, but warned by Erda, the all-wise one, who rises from the earth, he at length gives it

up. The giants quarrel over the possession of the Ring and Fafner kills his brother Fasolt with a stroke of his club and carries off the gold.

Donner then calls the clouds together and, on the clearing away of the storm, a rainbow bridge is seen across the Rhine over which the gods

pass to Walhall, as the plaints of the Rhine-maidens for the loss of the gold arise from the river far below.

Commentaries derived from:

(1) Gustav Kobbé, ―How to Understand Wagner‘s Ring of the Nibelung‖ (1895)

(2) Richard Aldrich, ―A Guide to The Ring of the Nibelung‖ (1905)

(3) William C. Ward, “A Study of the inner Significance of Richard Wagner’s Music-Drama” (1889; revised for reprint 1904)

(4) Gertrude Hall, “The Wagnerian Romances” (1907)

(5) Jessie L. Weston, The Legends of the Wagner Drama: Studies in Mythology (1896) (6) George Theodore Dippold, “Richard Wagner's Poem ... Explained” (1888)

Ward’s Introduction (1904).

The contest between light and darkness forms the subject of innumerable myths, varied according to the circumstances and character of the nations among

which they were developed. But the great myths of antiquity may be rightly interpreted in relation to more than one plane of existence, and by no means solely,

or even chiefly, in relation to the physical plane. The actual origin of mythology is lost to us in the distance of prehistoric time, but as far back as we are ble to

trace it there seems little reason to doubt that it possessed a spiritual significance. Questionless, to our ancestors of the early myth-making ages the wondrous

sights and sounds of the phenomenal world appealed with a force foreign to our own jaded minds. From an intense sensibility to the life and movement of nature

they endowed the objects of their wonder with all the attributes of personal and sentient beings. The earth, the water, and the air were populated with hosts of

living creatures who, to the qualities proper to the objects of which—or rather, of the life in which—they were personifications, added the passions and emotions

of humanity. Yet perhaps at no period to which we can point was the resemblance between the external life of nature and the inner life of the soul of man wholly

unrecognized, and the most ancient myths may be held to symbolize, on their different planes, both the one and the other. Their physical interpretation—as of the

sun dispelling the darkness of night, or awakening the earth from its wintry slumber—remain valid in its own field as a part of the truth, and as itself symbolic of

a higher truth. For the contest of light and darkness on the physical plane is but the counterpart of a similar context on the mental and moral planes. Indeed, as an

ancient philosopher has observed (Sallust, De Diis et Mundo, c: III.), what is the visible world itself but a myth, suggesting by sensible symbols the truths of that

invisible world in which existence is not phenomenal, but real—the world of Mind and Soul?

But, from many causes, it often happens that the mythological traditions of antiquity which have been handed down to us, have reached us in a form

differing doubtless considerably from that in which they were primarily conceived. In the course of ages the original meaning of a myth would become lost; the

names applied to the various personifications, and once expressive of their various attributes, would no longer convey their original sense to a people whose very

language perhaps had changed, but would become regarded as proper names merely. Poets would take up the materials already, it may be, unavoidably altered in

passing down from generation to generation, and would mould them anew according to their own fancy or inspiration. Moreover, names borrowed from the old

myths would, particularly when their meaning was forgotten, be bestowed upon mortal men, and the fame of their deeds, when the lapse of time had drawn

before them a veil of partial oblivion, would be reflected back upon the myths themselves. Thus, for example, in the Nibelungen Lied, the old German version of

the legend which supplied Wagner with the materials for his Nibelung’s Ring, the original tradition has been so bedecked with stories of Mediæval chivalry and

dim reminiscences of history, that, although it can still be partially discriminated, few of the pristine features remain. Wagner, therefore, for the materials of his

poem, had recourse to the older and more primitive form of the story preserved in the Norse Eddas and the Volsunga Saga. It is believed, however, that the

legend existed at a still earlier period in Germany, whence it was carried to the North, there to be adopted and secured when lost to its native land. But even here

the root is not reached. The beginning of the immortal tale was doubtless shaped in that prehistoric age when our Aryan progenitors still dwelt in their Asiatic

homes. When they separated and migrated the myth gradually assumed different forms with each branch of the race; and where the Greeks tell of the victory of

Apollo over the Python, of Hercules over the Dragon of the Hesperides, and many other stories, all symbolizing in various aspects the triumph of Light over

Darkness, the Teutonic races speak of Siegfried‘s contest with the Serpent Fafner, or of Beowulf‘s slaying of the Fire-Drake.

But the investigation of ancient folk-lore is not our present object. Our task is to inquire into the manner in which Wagner has succeeded in connecting the

old-time legend of his adoption with the life of our own day, its aspirations and beliefs; in re-animating it with a spiritual significance, true, not only for the past,

but for the present and for all time to come—a significance, it may be, dimly adumbrated, it may be, in some of its principal features, clearly comprehended by

the ancient seers who modeled in bygone ages the wondrous tale [note: it should be noticed that although Wagner has, in the main, followed the great outlines of

the Norse legend, he has modified them wherever it seemed desirable, in order to express more clearly his thought; also that the drama is filled with significant

details, often introduced or applied with a purpose entirely his own]. But this, at all events, is beyond our scope. It suffices us to know that by the genius of

Richard Wagner, the inner meaning of the great Teutonic legend was for the first time brought home to the heart and made intelligible to the intellect of the

nineteenth century.

The true subject, then, of the Nibelung’s Ring is the gradual progress of the human soul, its contests, its victories and defeats, and its ultimate redemption by

the power of Divine Love. We find the same idea underlying antecedent works of the author, although in the Ring more than elsewhere it is consistently

developed into a history of Humanity from the earliest dawn of individual consciousness to the final attainment of a purely spiritual existence. In the Nibelung’s

Ring, as I trust I shall be able to show, we have a poem of which the main purport is distinctly allegorical, and which is built upon a deep foundation of spiritual

truth. Few artists have been so consistently faithful as Wagner to the principle which he himself proclaimed (in Religion and Art),—that ―Art has fulfilled her

true mission only when she has led to comprehension of the inner sense by ideal presentment of the allegorical form.‖

Notes on Forman’s Translation

―In the alliterative verse of the original. The only version approved by the author, and the first translation of the work into any language.‖ (from the title page)

—A Note from Richard Wagner:

―For their love and zeal I give my warmest thanks, and am very glad if you use this beautiful work of the Wagner Society and my special friend Mr. Forman.‖

―I do not wonder at the cordiality of commendation bestowed by the master on such a version of his great work.‖ —Algernon Charles Swinburne

―Mr. Alfred Forman has successfully accomplished a task which might rebut the boldest of translators.‖ —John Payne

―Mr. Forman's translation is a marvellous tour deforce.‖ —Richard Garnett

―The extraordinary difficulty of the task may be imagined when it is said that not merely is the English version fitted to the music, the rhythm and metre being

closely adhered to, but that even the alliterative verse has been preserved in the translation.‖ —Academy

―In Mr. Forman's work we are borne into an ideal sphere. We wonder at the wealth of pregnant words; we are entranced by the unity of style and feeling; and

under his guidance we traverse the new world of poetry which Wagner himself has revealed to us. —Daily Chronicle

―Mr. Alfred Forman's admirable translation of the gigantic tetralogy "Der Ring des Nibelungen," is entitled to rank as a valuable contribution to the dramatic

literature of the day.‖ —Evening News

―Wagner is to be greatly congratulated on having found an interpreter who has recognized in "Der Ring des Nibelungen" a tragic poem of the first importance,

and who has rendered it into English in such a manner as to convey the same impression.‖ —Court Circular

―The philological import of Mr. Forman's work is as great as its poetic charm. We rise from perusal of the transcription with the consciousness that we have

passed through the same world and received the same impressions as during our reading of the original.‖ —Musical Standard

―None but a genuine enthusiast would have dreamed of undertaking so herculean a work as this translation. ... It can be honestly recommended as giving an

excellent idea both of the spirit and form of the work.‖ —Musical Times

A Note on Jameson’s Translation (by Mark D. Lew)

Frederick Jameson's translation of the Ring is sometimes criticized as an inferior product. Nevertheless, I have chosen to use it here, for a variety of reasons.

First and foremost, of the four Ring translations which can reasonably be considered to be standard, Jameson's is the only one not protected by copyright, and

thus the only one readily available for this project. Of other, non-standard translations which are in the public domain, I have found none that are an improvement

over Jameson.

I would not go so far as to say that Jameson's is the best Ring translation there is. (The three other standard translations — Salter/Mann, which accompanies

most CDs; Andrew Porter's singing translation for ENO; and Stewart Spencer's new translation with its detailed annotations — are all excellent.) I would say,

however, that Jameson's work is underrated, and much of the criticism is undeserved.

The common complaint is that it is outdated and incomprehensible; yet the old-fashioned style which Jameson adopts is in conscious imitation of Wagner's

equally old-fashioned German. Most of the criticism against Jameson's text — that it sounds artificial and is hard to understand — could just as easily be (and

indeed is) leveled against Wagner's original text in German. In fact, of all the translations, Jameson's comes closest to preserving Wagner's tone. The more recent

translators may have improved the libretto by making it more readable, but in the process they have, as Spencer acknowledges, to a certain extent misrepresented

the authentic obscurity of Wagner's original.

Jameson's English no more incomprehensible than Shakespeare's, and few readers of Shakespeare insist that his writing be modernized. The old-fashioned

grammar, with its unusual word order and littered with "hath"s and "dost"s, is awkward at first, but there is a logic to it, and after a few pages one grows

accustomed to it (or, as one of Jameson's characters might say, it becomes "wonted"). For the handful of archaic words which Jameson uses (uses repeatedly, in

many cases), a short glossary has been provided on the final page of each libretto.

Alfred Forman (1877) Frederick Jameson (1900) Commentaries

SCENE I: At the Bottom of the Rhine

(Greenish twilight—lighter upwards, darker downwards.

The upper part is filled with waves of moving water that

stream restlessly from right to left. Toward the bottom the

water is dissolved into a gradually finer and finer wet mist,

so that the space of a man’s height from the ground seems

to be quite free from water, which flows like a train of

clouds over the dark depth. Everywhere rugged ridges of

rock rise from the bottom, and form the boundary of the

scene. The whole floor is broken into a wilderness of

jagged masses, so that it is nowhere perfectly level, and

indicates in every direction deeper passages stretching into

thickest darkness.

In the middle of the scene, round a ridge which, with its

slender point, reaches up into the thicker and lighter water,

one of the Rhine-Daughters swims in graceful movement.)

WOGLINDE.

Weia! Waga!

Waver, thou water! Crowd to the cradle!

Wagalaweia! Wallala weiala weia!

WELLGUNDE‘S (voice from above).

Watchest thou, Woglind‘, alone?

WOGLINDE.

Till Wellgund‘ is with me below.

WELLGUNDE (dives down from the flood to the ridge).

Is wakeful thy watch?

(she tries to catch Woglinde.)

WOGLINDE (swims out of her reach).

Safe from thee so.

(They incite & seek playfully to catch each other)

FLOSSHILDE‘S (voice from above).

Heiala weia! Wisdomless sisters!

WELLGUNDE.

Flosshilde, swim! Woglinde flies;

help me her flowing to hinder!

FLOSSHILDE

(dives down & swims between them as they play).

The sleeping gold slightly you guard;

Better beset the slumberer‘s bed,

Or grief will bring us your game!

FIRST SCENE: At the Bottom of the Rhine

Greenish twilight, lighter above, darker below. The upper

part of the scene is filled with moving water, which

restlessly streams from right to left. Towards the bottom

the waters resolve themselves into a fine mist, so that the

space, to a man‘s height from the stage, seems free from

the water which floats like a train of clouds over gloomy

depths. Every-where are steep points of rock jutting up

from the depths and enclosing the whole stage; all the

ground is broken up into a wild confusion of jagged pieces,

so that there is no level place, while on all sides darkness

indicates other deeper fissures.

One of the RHINE-DAUGHTERS circles with graceful

swimming motions round the central rock.

Woglinde.

Weia! Waga!

Wandering waters, swing ye our cradle!

wagala weia!walala, weiala weia!

Wellgunde‘s (voice from above).

Woglinde, watchest alone?

Woglinde.

If Wellgunde came we were two

Wellgunde (dives down to the rock).

How safe is they watch?

Woglinde (eludes her by swimming).

Safe from thy wiles!

(they playfully chase one another.)

Flosshilde‘s (voice from above).

Heiaha weia! Heedless, wild watchers!

Wellgunde.

Flosshilde, swim! Woglinde flies:

help me to hinder her flying!

Flosshilde

(dives down between them).

The sleeping gold badly ye guard!

Better beset the slumberer‘s bed,

Or both will pay for your sport!

1. The Motive of the Rhine (The Primeval Element)

In ―The Rhinegold‖ we meet with supernatural beings of

German mythology—the Rhine-daughters Woglinde,

Wellgunde and Flosshilde, whose duty it is to guard the

precious Rhinegold; Wotan, the chief of the Gods, his spouse

Fricka; Loge, the God of Fire (the diplomat of Walhalla);

Freia, the Goddess of Youth and Beauty; her brothers Donner

and Froh; Erda, the all-wise woman; the giants Fafner and

Fasolt; Alberich and Mime of the race of Nibelungs, cunning,

treacherous gnomes who dwell in Nibelheim in the bowels of

the earth.

The first scene is laid on the Rhine, where the Rhine-daughters

guard the Rhinegold. The work opens with a wonderfully

descriptive prelude, which depicts with marvelous art

(marvelous because so simple), the transition from the

quietude of the water-depths to the wavy life of the Rhine-

daughters.

The double basses intone E flat. Only this note is heard during

four bars. Then three contra bassoons add a B flat. The chord,

thus formed, sounds until the 136th bar. With the sixteenth bar

there flows over this seemingly immovable triad, as the current

of a river flows over its immovable bed, the MOTIVE OF THE

RHINE. A horn intones this Motive. Then one horn after

another takes it up until its wave-like tones are heard on the

eight horns. On the flowing accompaniment of the cellos the

Motive is carried to the woodwind. It rises higher and higher,

the other strings successively joining in the accompaniment

which now flows on in gentle undulations until the Motive is

heard on the high notes of the woodwind, while the violins

have joined in the accompaniment. When the theme thus

seems to have stirred the waters from their depth to their

surface the curtain rises. (1)

The prelude to ―The Rhine Gold‖ is purely descriptive music,

and is without significance apart from the scene to which it

introduces us. In heightening the effect of that scene, however,

and in preparing the listener’s mood, it is wonderfully

effective. The scene is the lowest depths of the Rhine; a

greenish light penetrates but dimly from above. There is the

motion of the waters; but before it is seen, it is felt and heard

in the music. As the curtain parts, we see the three Rhine

Maidens joyously swimming, and as they swim, singing. (2)

(With merry cries they swim away from each other;

Flosshilde tries to catch first one and then the other; they

slip from her, and then together give chase to Flosshilde;

so, laughing and playing, they dart like fish from ridge to

ridge.

Meanwhile ALBERICH has come out of a dark chasm

from below, and climbs up a ridge. Still surrounded by the

darkness, he stops and observes with growing pleasure the

games of the water-maidens.)

ALBERICH.

Hi hi! You Nodders!

How neat I find you! Neighbourly folk!

From Nibelheim‘s night I soon will be near,

If made I seem to your mind.

(The maidens, on hearing Alberich’s voice, stop their play)

WOGLINDE.

Hi! What is here?

WELLGUNDE.

It whispered and gleamed.

FLOSSHILDE.

Watch who gazes this way.

(They dive deeper down, and perceive the Nibelung.)

WOGLINDE and WELLGUNDE.

Fie! What frightfulness!

FLOSSHILDE (swimming swiftly up).

Guard the gold!

Father said that such was the foe.

(The two others follow her, and all three gather quickly

round the middle ridge.)

ALBERICH.

You there aloft!

THE THREE.

What leads thee below?

ALBERICH.

Spoil I your sport, if here you hold me in spell?

Dive to me deeper; with you to dance

And dabble the Nibelung yearns!

With merry cries they swim apart. FLOSSHILDE tries to

catch first one and then the other; they elude her and then

together chase her and dart laughing and playing like fish

between the rocks.

From a dark chasm ALBERICH climbs up one of the

rocks. He remains watching the water-maidens with

increasing pleasure.

Alberich.

He he! Ye nixies!

How ye delight me, daintiest folk!

From Niebelheim‘s night fain would I come,

Would ye turn but to me!

(The maidens stop playing on hearing ALBERICH’s voice)

Woglinde.

Hei! Who is there?

Wellgunde.

A voice in the dark.

Flosshilde.

Look who is below!

(They dive deeper down and see the Niblung.)

Woglinde and Wellgunde.

Fie! Thou grisly one!

Flosshilde (swimming quickly up).

Look to the gold!

Father warned us such foe to fear.

(The two others follow her, and all three gather quickly

round the middle rock.)

Alberich.

You, above there!

The Three.

What wouldst thou, below there?

Alberich.

Spoil I your sport, if still I stand here and gaze?

Dive ye but deeper, with you fain

Would a Nibelung dally and play.

2. The Motive of the Rhine-daughters (Rhine Maidens)

The scene shows the bed and flowing waters of the Rhine, the

light of day reaching the depths only as a greenish twilight.

The current flows on over rugged rocks and through dark

chasms. Woglinde is circling gracefully around the central

ridge of rock. To an accompaniment as wavy as the waters

through which she swims, she sings the much discussed

―Weia! Waga!...‖ Some of these words belong to what may be

termed the language of the Rhine-daughters. Looked at in print

they seem odd, perhaps even ridiculous. When, however, they

are sung to the MOTIVE OF THE RHINE-DAUGHTERS they have

a wavy grace which is simply entrancing. In wavy sport the

Rhine-daughters dart from cliff to cliff. (1)

Das Rheingold is the title which distinguishes the first portion of our drama, to the remainder of which it forms a prologue wherein are sown the seeds which hereafter, like the Colchian Dragon’s teeth, produce so abundant a harvest of strife and discord. It is not divided, like the three subsequent parts, into acts, but into four scenes of considerable length, connected by the music, which is uninterrupted from beginning to end. The first scene is laid at the bottom of the Rhine. This famous river, with whose name is interwoven so large a section of German legend and romance, is here employed as a symbol of the water-element, which again, as often in the Aryan mythology, is regarded as a type of the material universe, the sphere of all generated life. It thus corresponds with the earth-encircling Oceanus of the Greeks, which Homer describes as the origin of all things (Iliad, xiv., 246). In the songs of the Edda, indeed, we meet with a different conception of the cosmogony, but recent researches have proved that the former idea was at one time no stranger to the Teutonic peoples. It has been shown that a Vana-cult, i.e. a worship of the Vaenir or water-deities, preceded, among the Teutons, the religion of Odin and the gods of Asgarth. The Elder Edda (Völuspá) contains a brief and obscure allusion to the fierce struggle which took place between the two creeds, and in which the older faith finally succumbed, yet was not wholly uprooted, a compromise being effected by which certain of the Vanic divinities were received into the circle of the Aesir. Of these Vaenir two have been introduced by Wagner among the dramatis personæ of the Nibelung’s Ring—Froh (Freyr) and Freia, the children of the sea-god Niord. Many evidences of this ancient water-worship still survive in popular tradition. I need but instance the well-known story of the Fisherman in the collection of the brothers Grimm. (3)

Meanwhile Alberich has clambered from the depths up to one

of the cliffs, and watches, while standing in its shadow, the

gambols of the Rhine-daughters. As he speaks to them there is

a momentary harshness in the music, whose flowing rhythm is

broken. (1)

The clear fluency of the music is at once disturbed; minor

harmonies, short, crabbed phrases; sharp, sudden discords;

trouble its flow, as he calls to them and tries to catch them. (2)

WELLGUNDE.

Our play will he join in?

WOGLINDE.

Passed he a joke?

ALBERICH.

How fast and sweetly you flash and swim!

The waist of one I would soon undauntedly wind,

Slid she dreadlessly down!

FLOSSHILDE.

Now laugh I at fear; the foe is in love.

(The laugh).

WELLGUNDE.

And look how he longs!

WOGLINDE.

Now shall we near him?

(She lets herself down to the point of the peak, whose foot

Alberich has reached.)

ALBERICH.

She lets herself low.

WOGLINDE.

Now come to me close!

ALBERICH (climbs with imp-like agility, but stopping

often on the way, towards the point of the peak).

Sleek as slime the slope of the slate is!

I slant and slide!

With foot and with fist I no safety can find

On the slippery slobber!

(He sneezes)

A sniff of wet has set me sneezing;

The cursed snivel!

(He has reached the neighbourhood of Woglinde.)

WOGLINDE (laughing).

With winning cough my wooer comes!

ALBERICH.

My choice thou wert, thou womanly child!

(He tries to embrace her.)

WOGLINDE (winding out of his way).

Here, if thy bent I heed, it must be!

Wellgunde.

Would he be our playmate?

Woglinde.

Doth he but mock?

Alberich.

How bright and fair in the light ye shine!

Fain are my arms to enfold a maiden so fair,

Would she come to me here!

Flosshilde.

I laugh at my fear: the foe is in love!

(They laugh.)

Wellgunde.

The languishing imp!

Woglinde.

Let us go near him!

(She lets herself sink to the top of the rock, the foot of

which ALBERICH has reached.)

Alberich.

One sinks down to me.

Woglinde.

Come close to me here!

Alberich (climbs with imp-like agility, but with frequent

checks, to the top of the rock).

Loathsome, slimy, slippery pebbles!

I cannot stand!

My hands and my feet cannot fasten or hold

On the treacherous smoothness!

(He sneezes.)

Water drops fill up my nostrils:

Accursed sneezing!

(He has come near WOGLINDE.)

Woglinde (laughing).

Sneezing tells of my love‘s approach!

Alberich.

My sweetheart be, thou loveliest child!

(He tries to embrace her.)

Woglinde (avoiding him).

Me wouldst thou woo? Then woo me up here!

The three Rhine-daughters are simply personifications in human form of the Rhine, or water-element, and their names—Woglinde, Wellgunde, and Flosshilde—contain a reference to the flow and undulation of water. Their laughing play about the glistening treasure may be interpreted as an indication that the opening of the drama is laid in that Golden Age of the poets, when, as is sung in the “Völuspá,” the Gods knew not yet the greed of gold, and possessed the metal but as a shining toy. In the “Völuspá,” as in the “Nibelung’s Ring,” it is the fatal thirst for gold (metaphorically speaking) which puts an end to this period of peace and serenity, and brings war and death into the world. But as in every individual life the whole great world-drama is re-enacted, so to each of us the days of childhood are the Golden Age, the Eden from which we pass, eating of the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge; and thus by Wagner this golden spring-tide of life is suggested in the childish play of the Rhine-maidens, and in their child-like heedless chatter, betraying with innocent carelessness the fatal secret. (3)

Characteristically descriptive of Alberich‘s discomfiture is the

music when, in futile endeavours to clamber up to them, he

inveighs against the ―slippery slime‖ which causes him to lose

his foothold. (1)

In the beginning was the Gold —beautiful, resplendent, its obvious and simple part to reflect sunlight and be a joy to the eyes; containing, however, apparently of its very nature, the following mysterious quality: a ring fashioned from it would endow its possessor with what is vaunted as immeasurable power, and make him master of the world. This power shows itself afterwards undefined in some directions and circumscribed in others, one never fully grasps its law; one plain point of it, however, was to subject to the owner of the ring certain inferior peoples and reveal to him the treasures hidden in the earth, which he could force his thralls to mine and forge and so shape that they might be used to buy and subject the superior peoples, thus making him actually, if successful in corruption, master of the world. But this ring could by no possibility be fashioned except by one who should have utterly renounced love. For these things no reason is given: they were, like the Word. One feels an allegory. As the poem unfolds, one is often conscious of it. It is well to hold the thread of it lightly and let it slip as soon as it becomes puzzling, settling down contentedly in the joy of simple story. The author himself, very much a poet, must be supposed to have done something of the sort. He does not follow to any trite conclusion the thought he has started, he has small care for minor consistencies. Large-mindedly he drops what has become inconvenient, and prefers simply beauty, interest, the story. Thus his personages have a body, and awaken sympathies which would hardly attach to purely allegorical figures; a charm of livingness invests the world he has created. The Gold's home was in the Rhine, at the summit of a high, pointed rock, where it caught the beams of the sun and shed them down through the waves, brightening the dim water-world, gladdening the

(She has reached another ridge. The sisters laugh.)

ALBERICH (scratches his head).

O grief! Thou art gone! Come though again!

Large for me is the length of thy leap.

WOGLINDE (springs to a third ridge lower down).

Sink to my side,

And fast thou shalt seize me!

ALBERICH (climbs quickly down).

Below it is better!

WOGLINDE (darts quickly upwards to a high side-ridge).

Aloft I must bring thee!

(All the maidens laugh.)

ALBERICH.

How follow and catch I the crafty fish?

Fly not so falsely!

(He attempts to climb hastily after her.)

WELLGUNDE

(has sunk down to a lower reef on the other side).

Heia! Thou sweetheart! Hear what I say!

ALBERICH (turning round).

Wantest thou me?

WELLGUNDE.

I mean to thee well;

This way turn thyself, try not for Woglind‘!

ALBERICH

(climbs quickly over the bottom to Wellgunde).

More fair I find thee than her I followed,

Who shines less sweetly and slips aside.—

But glide more down, if good thou wilt do me!

WELLGUNDE (sinking down still lower towards him).

And now am I near?

ALBERICH.

Not yet enough!

Thy slender arms O set me within;

Feel in thy neck how my fingers shall frolic;

In burying warmth

Shall bear me the wave of thy bosom.

WELLGUNDE.

Art thou in love, and aim‘st at delight?

If so, thy sweetness I first must see!—

(She has reached another rock. The sisters laugh.)

Alberich (scratches his head).

Alas! Thou escap‘st? Come but nearer!

Thou canst fly where I scarcely can creep.

Woglinde (swims to a third rock, deeper down).

Climb to the ground,

Then safe wouldst thou clasp me.

Alberich (clambers hastily down).

‗Tis better down lower!

Woglinde (darts quickly to a high rock at the side).

Now let us go higher!

(All the maidens laugh.)

Alberich.

How catch in her flight the timid fish?

Wait awhile, false one!

(He tries to climb hastily after her.)

Wellgunde

(has sunk down to a lower rock on the other side).

Heia, thou fair one! Hear‘st thou me not?

Alberich (turning round).

Call‘st thou to me?

Wellgunde.

I counsel thee well:

To me turn thee and Woglinde heed not!

Alberich

(clambers hastily over the ground to WELLGUNDE).

Far fairer seemest thou than that shy one,

Who gleams less brightly, and looks too sleek.

Yet deeper dive, if thou wouldst delight me.

Wellgunde (letting herself sink down a little nearer to him).

Now, am I not near?

Alberich.

Not near enough!

Thy slender arms come fling around me;

That I may touch thee and toy with thy tresses,

With passionate heat

On thy bosom so soft let me press me!

Wellgunde.

Art thou bewitched and longing for love joys?

Then shew, thou fair one, what favour is thine!

water-folk. That was its sole use, but for thus making golden daylight in the deep it was worshipped, besung, called adoring names, by nixies swimming around it in a sort of joyous rite. The mysterious potentiality of the gold was known to the Rhine-god; three of his daughters had been instructed by him, and detailed to guard the treasure. Some faculty of divination warned him of danger to it, and of the quarter from whence this danger threatened. But nixies—even when burdened by cares of state—are just nixies; those three seem to have lived to laugh before all else—to laugh and chase one another and play in the cool green element, singing all the while a fluent, cradling song whose sweetness might well allure boatmen and bathers. Below the Rhine lay Nibelheim, the kingdom of mists and night, the home of the Nibelungs,—dark gnomes, dwarfs, living in the bowels of the earth, digging its metals, excelling in cunning as smiths. The Rhine did not continue flowing water quite down to its bed; the boundary-line of Nibelheim seems to have been just above it; the water there turned to fine mist; among the rough rocks of the river-bed were passages down into the Under-world. Up through one of these, one day before sunrise, while the Rhine was melodiously thundering in its majestic course—they are the Rhine-motifs which open the piece,—came clambering, by some chance, the Nibelung Alberich. His night-accustomed eyes, as he blinked upward into the green light, were caught by a silvery glinting of scales, flashes of flesh-pink and floating hair. The Rhine-maidens, guardians of the gold, were frolicking around it; but this did not appear, for the sun had not yet risen to wake it into radiance. The dwarf saw just a shimmering of young forms, was touched with a natural desire, and called to them, asking them to come down to him, and let him join in their play. At the sound of the strange voice and the sight of the strange figure, Flosshilde, a shade more sensible than her sisters, cries out to them: "Look to the gold! Father warned us of an enemy of the sort!" and the three rally quickly around the treasure. But it soon appears that the stranger is but a dark, small, hairy, ugly, harmless-seeming, amorous creature, uttering his wishes very simply. The watch over the gold is relinquished, and a little amusement sought in tantalizing and befooling the clumsy wooer. Alberich, later a figure touched with terror and followed with dislike, is likeable in this scene, almost gentle, one's sympathies come near being with him. The music describes him awkward and heavy, slipping on the rocks, sneezing in the wet; a note of protest is frequent in his voice. All the music relating to him, now or later, is joyless, whatever beside it may be. The sisters have their fun with the poor gnome, whose innocence of nixies' ways is apparent in the long time it is before all reliance in their good faith leaves him. Woglinde invites him nearer. With difficulty he climbs the slippery rocks to reach her. When he can nearly touch her—he is saying, "Be my sweetheart, womanly child!"—she darts from him. And the sisters laugh their delicious inhuman laugh.

Fie! How humpy and hidden in hair!

Black with brimstone and hardened with burns!

Seek for a lover liker thyself!

ALBERICH (tries to hold her by force).

Unfit though I‘m found I‘ll fetter thee safe!

WELLGUNDE (darting quickly up to the middle peak).

Quite safe, or forth I shall swim!

(All three laugh.)

ALBERICH (out of temper, scolding after her).

Fitful child! Chafing and frosty fish!

Seem I not sightly,

Pretty and playful, smiling and smooth?

Eels I leave thee for lovers,

If at my skin thou can scold!

FLOSSHILDE.

What say‘st thou, dwarf? So soon upset?

But two thou hast asked, try for the other—

With healing hope let her allay thy harm!

ALBERICH.

Soothing words to-wards me are sung.—

How well in the end that you all are not one!

To one of a number I‘m welcome;

Though none of one were to want me!—

Let me believe thee, and draw thee below!

FLOSSHILDE (dives down to Alberich).

What silly fancy, foolish sisters,

Fails to see he is fair?

ALBERICH (quickly approaching her).

Both dull and hateful here I may deem them,

Since I thy sweetness behold.

FLOSSHILDE (flatteringly).

O sound with length thy lovely song;

My sense it loftily lures!

ALBERICH (touching her trustfully).

My heart shakes and shrivels to hear

Showered so pointed a praise.

FLOSSHILDE (gently repulsing him).

Thy charm besets me and cheers my sight;

In thy leaping laughter my heart delights!

(she draws him tenderly to her).

Sorrowless man!

Fie! Thou hairy and hideous imp!

Swarthy, spotted and sulphury dwarf!

Seek thee a sweet-heart whom thou dost please!

Alberich (tries to hold her by force).

Though foul be my face,my hands hold thee fast!

Wellgunde (quickly swimming up to the middle rock).

Hold fast, I flow from thy hands!

(All three laugh.)

Alberich (calling angrily after her).

Faithless thing! Bony, chilly-skinned fish!

Seem I not comely,

Pretty and playful, brisk and bright?

Hei! Go wanton with eels, then,

If so loathsome am I!

Flosshilde.

Why child‘st thou, elf? So soon cast down?

But twain hast thou wooed: try but the third one;

Sweetest balm surely her love would bring!

Alberich.

Soothing song comes to my ears!

How good that ye are not but one!

Of many some one I may win me,

Alone no maiden would choose me!—

If I may trust thee, then glide down to me!

Flosshilde (dives down to ALBERICH).

How foolish are ye, senseless sisters,

If ye find him not fair!

Alberich (quickly approaching her).

Both dull and hideous well may I deem them,

Now that the fairest I see!

Flosshilde (flattering).

O sing still on thy soft sweet song,

Its charm enraptures mine ear!

Alberich (confidently caressing her).

My heart bounds and flutters and burns

When such sweet praise laughs to me.

Flosshilde (with gentle resistance).

Thy winsome sweetness makes glad mine eyes

And thy tender smile all my spirit cheers!

(She draws him tenderly to her.)

Dearest of men!

Woglinde then plunges to the river-bed, calling to Alberich, "Come down! Here you surely can grasp me!" He owns it will be easier for him down there, and lets himself down, when the sprite rises, light as a bubble, to the surface. He is calling her an impudent fish and a deceitful young lady, when Wellgunde sighs, "Thou beautiful one!" He turns quickly, inquiring naively, "Do you mean me?" She says, "Have nothing to do with Woglinde. Turn sooner to me!" He is but too willing, vows that he thinks her much the more beautiful and gleaming, and prays she will come further down. She stops short of arm's-length. He pours forth his elementary passion. She feigns a wish to see her handsome gallant more closely. After a brief comedy of scanning his face, with insulting promptness she appears to change her mind, and with the unkindest descriptive terms slipping from his grasp swims away. And again rings the chorus of malicious musical laughter. Then the cruelest of the three, Flosshilde, takes the poor swain in hand. She not only comes down, she allows herself to be held, she wreathes her slender arms around him, presses him tenderly and flatters him in music well calculated to daze with delight. He is not warned by her words, as, while they sit embraced, she says, "Thy piercing glance, thy stubborn beard, might I see the one, feel the other, forever! The rough locks of thy prickly hair, might they forever flow around Flosshilde! Thy toad's shape, thy croaking voice, oh, might I, wondering and mute, see and hear them exclusively for ever!" It is the sudden mocking laughter of the two listening sisters which draws him from his dream—when Flosshilde slips from his hold, and the three again swim merrily around, and laugh, and when his angry wail rises call down to him to be ashamed of himself! But not even then do they let him rest; they hold forth new hopes, inviting and exciting him to chase them, till fairly aflame with love and wrath he begins a mad pursuit, climbing, slipping, falling to the foot of the rocks, starting upwards again, clutching at this one and that, still eluded with ironical laughter, until, realizing his impotence, breathless and quaking with rage, he shakes his clenched hand at them, foaming, "Let me catch one with this fist!" (4)

In adapting the Nibelung Legend to the operatic treatment Wagner has made use of the license that is legitimately granted to the dramatist, and therein he exhibits several departures from the story as told in the Volsunga Saga. But his discriminations are never disfigured with inconsistencies. Moreover, the famous composer ever manifests critical literary judgment throughout, and a just regard for proportions and congruities in the argument upon which his trilogy is based. For it must be understood that, like all ancient and very popular tales, The Nibelungen-lied has many versions, in which while the main thread is preserved, material variations are discoverable. Wagner therefore has exercised the justified privilege of using material from not only all the several versions of the legend but also borrowed from Norse Mythology such incidents as have a bearing upon the tale and then, like a great master, he blended the whole into a harmonious story, in design, texture and color, that age nor study cannot divest of ever living interest. (5)

ALBERICH.

Sweetest of maids!

FLOSSHILDE.

Art thou my own?

ALBERICH.

All and for ever!

FLOSSHILDE (holding him quite in her arms).

I am stabbed with thy stare,

With thy beard I am stuck;

O let me not loose from the bliss!

In the hold of thy fixed and furrowing hair

Be Flosshild‘ floated to heaven!

At thy shape like a toad,

To the shriek of thy tongue,

O let me in answerless spell,

Look and hearken alone!

(Woglinde and Wellgunde have dived down close to them

and now break out into ringing laughter.)

ALBERICH (staring in alarm out of Flosshilde’s arms).

Make you laughter at me?

FLOSSHILDE (breaking suddenly from him).

We send it as last of the song.

(She darts upwards with her sisters and joins in their

laughter.)

ALBERICH (with shrieking voice).

Woe! Ah, Woe! O grief! O grief!

The third to my trust is treacherous too?—

You giggling, gliding

Gang of unmannerly maidens!

Feel you no touch,

You truthless Nodders, of faith?

THE THREE RHINE-DAUGHTERS.

Wallala! Lalaleia! Lalei!

Heia! Heia! Haha!

Lower thy loudness!

Bluster no longer!

Learn the bent of our bidding!

What made thee faintly free in the midst

The maid who fixed thy mind?

True finds us and fit for trust

The wooer who winds us tight.

Freshen thy hope, and hark to no fear;

In the flood we hardly shall flee.

Alberich.

Sweetest of maids!

Flosshilde.

Wert thou but mine!

Alberich.

Might I e‘er hold thee!

Flosshilde (ardently).

O, the sting of thy glance

And the prick of thy beard

For ever to see and to feel!

Might the locks of thy hair, so shaggy and sharp,

But float round Flosshilde ever!

And thy shape like a toad

And the croak of thy voice,

O might I, dazzled and dumb,

See and hear nothing but these!

(WOGLINDE and WELLGUNDE have dived down close to

them and now break out into ringing laughter.)

Alberich (starting up, alarmed).

Wretches, laugh ye at me?

Flosshilde (suddenly darting from him).

As fits at the end of the song!

(She swims quickly up with her sisters and joins in their

laughter.)

Alberich (in a wailing voice).

Woe‘s me! Ah woe‘s me! Alas! Alas!

The third one, so dear, doth she too betray?

Ye shameless, shifting,

Worthless and infamous wantons!

Feed ye on falsehood,

Treacherous watery brood?

The Three Rhine-Maidens.

Wallala! Lalaleia! Lalei!

Heia! Heia! Haha!

Shame on thee, imp!

Why chid‘st thou down yonder!

Hear the words that we sing thee!

Say wherefore, faintheart, didst thou not hold

The maiden thou dost love?

True are we, free from all guile,

To him who holds us fast.

Gaily to work, and grasp without fear;

In the floods not fleet is our flight.

3. Motive of the Nibelung’s Servitude (the Menial)

Flosshilde sings him a mocking love song, and finally yields

herself to his embrace, till suddenly she breaks from it and

joins her sisters with scornful laughter. Alberich, lamenting,

breaks out in bitter rage and the Motive of the Menial is heard.

The music depicts his wild chase of the three fair swimmers,

his stumbling and falling over the rocks. As he finally pauses

breathless, and shakes his fist at them, a chord succession is

heard fortissimo, in the insistent rhythm that a little later will

be completely identified with the race of the Nibelungs to

which he belongs. (2)

When after Woglinde, Wellgunde and Flosshilde have in turn

gamboled almost within his reach, only to dart away again, he

curses his own weakness, you hear the MOTIVE OF THE

NIBELUNG‘S SERVITUDE. Swimming high above him the

Rhine-daughters incite him with gleeful cries to chase them.

Alberich tries to ascend, but always slips and falls back.

Finally, beside himself with rage, he threatens them with

clenched fist. The music accompanying this threat is in the

typical rhythm of the Nibelung Motive. (1)

In the study of the legends which lie at the basis of the series of immortal works which Wagner has bequeathed to the world, we should place in the forefront the great Siegfried legend, the primæval heritage of the German people. For, in spite of the fascinating garb in which, through the darkness of the long Northern nights and sunless Northern days, the skill of Icelandic bards has clothed the story, the home of the legend was originally the home of the German Folk, the Rhine-land. How old the legend is we cannot tell; we only know that it comes to us fraught with dim reminiscences and hints of a time when the worlds of sense and of spirit were not so far apart as now we hold them; when the gods, clad in the likeness of men, walked the earth, and visibly turned and guided as they would the lives of mortals; a time when the sons of God beheld the daughters of men, and saw that they were fair. (5)

4. Motive of the Rhine Gold

We come now to an object upon which turns the entire tragic development of the fateful story, and which gives its title to the preliminary drama. This object is the Rhinegold, the wondrous treasure whose lustre illumines the gloom of the watery depths. Those who are familiar with the Norse poetry will not have failed to remark the continual metaphorical use of such phrases as “the water’s flame,” “the ocean’s fire,” and the like, significative of gold; and again, in the Edda, when Oegir, the sea-god, gives a banquet to the deities, his hall beneath the waves is described as lighted with gleaming gold in place of fire. The origin of these phrases is perhaps connected with the ancient view of the cosmogony before alluded to, which regards the sea as the parent and giver of all things. This belief in the inexhaustible wealth of the sea is of frequent occurrence in legends and folk-lore.”

(They swim away from each other, hither and thither, now

higher and now lower, to provoke Alberich to chase them.)

ALBERICH.

How in my body blistering heat

Upheaves the blood!

Lust and hate with heedless longing

Harrow my heart up!

Laugh and lie as you will,

Wide alight is my want

Till ease from one of you end it!

(With desperate efforts he begins to pursue them, with

fearful nimbleness he climbs ridge after ridge, springs from

one to the other, and tries to seize now this maiden, now

that, who always escape from him with mocking laughter;

he stumbles, falls into the depth below, and then climbs

hastily up again—till at last he loses all patience;

breathless, and foaming with rage, he stops, and stretches

his clenched fist up towards the maidens.)

ALBERICH (almost beside himself).

This fist on one to fix!

(He remains looking upwards in speechless rage till his

attention is suddenly caught and held by the following

spectacle:

Through the flood from above a gradually brighter light

has penetrated, which now, at a high spot in the middle

peak, kindles into a blinding golden glare; a magical

yellow light breaks thence through the water.)

WOGLINDE.

Look, sisters! The wakener‘s laugh is below.

WELLGUNDE.

Through the grassy gloom

The slumberer sweetly it greets.

FLOSSHILDE.

Now kisses its eye and calls it to open;

Lo, it smiles in the smiting light;

Through the startled flood

Flows the stream of its star.

THE THREE (gracefully swimming round the peak)

Heiayaheia! Heiayaheia!

Wallalallalala leiayahei!

Rhinegold! Rhinegold! Burning delight,

How bright is thy lordly laugh!

(They swim apart hither and thither, now deeper now

higher, to incite ALBERICH to chase them.)

Alberich.

Through all my frame what passionate fire

Now burns and glows.

Rage and longing, fierce and mighty,

Lash me to madness!

Though ye may laugh and lie,

Yearning masters my heart,

And one to me now shall yield her!

He begins the chase with desperate exertions. With terrible

agility he climbs the rocks, springs from one to the other

and tries to catch first one then another of the maidens who

always elude him with mocking laughter. He staggers and

falls into the abyss, then clambers hastily aloft again to

renew the chase. They let themselves sink a little. He

almost reaches them, falls back again, and again tries to

catch them. Foaming with rage, he pauses breathless and

stretches his clenched fist up towards the maidens.

Alberich.

Could I but capture one!

He remains in speechless rage gazing upwards, when

suddenly he is attracted and chained by the following

spectacle.

Through the water from above breaks a continuously

brightening glow which on a high point of the middle rock

kindles to a blinding, brightly-shining gleam. A magical

light streams from this through the water.

Woglinde.

Look, sisters! The wakener laughs to the deep.

Wellgunde.

Through the waters green

The radiant sleeper he greets.

Flosshilde.

He kisses her eyelids, so to unclose them.

Look, she smiles in the shining light.

Through the floods afar

Flows her glittering ray!

The Three (together swimming round the rock).

Heiajaheia! Heiajaheia!

Wallalallalala leiajahei!

Rhinegold! Rhinegold! Radiant joy,

Thou laughest in glorious light! Glistening beams

In the Nibelung’s Ring the Rhinegold, sleeping by turns, and by turns awakened by the Divine Intelligence (the “Wakener”), indicates the activity of the human soul in its pristine purity. By its sleep is signified the essential conjunction of the soul with its divine source, in which aspect its activity is said to sleep as regards the lower plane of existence; sleep here denoting transcendency. By its illumination of the waters is intimated its essential and sinless activity upon the lower plane, diffusing life and light in the material world. But into this condition of innocence and tranquility enters a disturbing element. As Evil from the darkness of Matter, rises Alberich the Nibelung from the lowest depths of the Rhine. His efforts at first are futile: the universe, as a whole, is exempt from the power of ill. It is only the individual soul, involved in matter, that Evil, sprung from matter, is mighty to degrade. This connection of the soul with matter is indicated by the wakening of the Rhinegold within the waters. Its illumination of the material world is an essential function, and of itself implies no degradation. But when Alberich seizes the gold, and drags it down from its rightful place, the universality of the soul is lost. The curse which the Nibelung pronounces upon love severs, as far as it may be severed, the bond which binds the soul to the highest Good; its pure and universal energy, filling the world with light and joy, is now perverted into base self-seeking Egoism—which becomes henceforth, as embodies in the Ring, the type of material might and mastery, although at the cost of spirituality and Divine Love. Thus the light of innocence is withdrawn from the world, and replaced by the darkness of guilt; nor shall the atonement be completed until selfishness and sensualism be eradicated from the soul, and the light of love and holiness re-illumine the realms of existence. Alberich’s curse of love strikes the keynote of the whole poem, which becomes a record of the strife between the two opposing principles, Love and Self, which constitutes man’s mortal life. (3)

Alberich‘s gaze is attracted and held by a glow which

suddenly pervades the waves above him and increases until

from the highest point of the central cliff a bright, golden ray

shoots through the water. Amid the shimmering

accompaniment of the violins is heard on the horn the

RHINEGOLD MOTIVE. (1)

5. The Rhine-Daughters’ Shout of Triumph

The Rhine Gold in the rock suddenly begins to glow with an

increasing brightness, sending out a magical golden light

through the water. As they see it, the maidens circle around

the rock, hymning a gracious melody to the rippling

accompaniment of the orchestra; and the ―Motive of the Rhine

Gold‖ is intoned by the horns, thus, a sort of fanfare. The

Rhine Daughters break into joyous song in ―Praise of the

Rhine Gold.‖ (2)

With shouts of triumph the Rhine-Daughters swim around the

rock. Their cry, ―Rhinegold!‖ is a characteristic motive, heard

again later in the cycle, and the new accompanying figure on

the violins may also be noted, as later on further reference to it

will be necessary. THE RHINE-DAUGHTERS‘ SHOUT OF

TRIUMPH and the accompaniment to it follows. (1)

Holy and red the river behold in thy rise!

Heiayahei! Heiayaheia!

Waken, friend, fully wake!

Gladdening games around thee we guide;

Flames are aflow, floods are on fire;

With sound and with song,

With dives and with dances,

We bathe in the depth of thy bed.

Rhinegold! Rhinegold!

Heiayaheia! Wallalaleia yahei!

ALBERICH (whose look is strongly attracted by the light,

and remains fixed on the gold).

What‘s that, you gliders,

That there so gleams and glows?

THE THREE MAIDENS (by turns).

Where is the wonderer‘s home,

Who of Rhinegold never has heard?

He guessed not aught of the golden eye

That wakes and wanes again?

Of the darting star that stands in the deep

And lights the dark with a look?—

See how gladly we swim in its glances!

Bathe with us in the beam thy body,

And fear no further its blaze!

(They laugh.)

ALBERICH.

Is the gold but good for your landless games?

I lean to it a little!

WOGLINDE.

To the matchless toy more he would take,

Were he told of its wonder!

WELLGUNDE.

The world‘s wealth is by him to be won,

Who has from the Rhinegold hammered the ring

That helps him to measureless might.

FLOSSHILDE.

Father it was who warned us, fast

And whole to guard him the gleaming hoard

That no foe from the flood might seize it;

So check your chattering song!

WELLGUNDE.

What brings, besetting sister, thy blame?

Hast thou not learned who alone,

That lives, to forge it is fit?

Thy splendor shoots forth o‘er the waves!

Heiajahei! Heiajaheia!

Waken, friend! Wake in joy!

Games will we play so gladly with thee;:

Flsheth the foam, flameth the flood,

As, floating around,

With dancing and singing,

We joyously dive to thy bed!

Rhinegold! Rhinegold!

Heiajaheia! Wallalaleia jahei!

Alberich (whose eyes, strongly attracted by the gleam, are

fixed on the gold).

What is‘t, ye sleek ones,

That there doth gleam and glow?

The Three Maidens (alternately).

Where hast thou, churl, ever dwelt,

Of the Rhinegold ne‘er to have heard?

Knows not the elf of the gold‘s bright eye, then,

That wakes and sleeps in turn?

Of the wondrous star in watery deeps,

Whose glory lightens the waves?—

See how blithely we glide in its radiance!

Wouldst thou, faintheart,

Then, bathe in brightness?

Come float and frolic with us!

(The laugh.)

Alberich.

For your water games is the gold alone good?

Then nought would it boot me!

Woglinde.

The golden charm wouldst thou not flout,

Knewest thou all of its wonders.

Wellgunde.

The world‘s wealth would be won by the man

Who out of the Rhinegold fashioned the ring

Which measureless might would bestow.

Flosshilde.

Our father said it, and bade us ever

Guard with wisdom the shining hoard,

That no false one should craftily steal it:

Then peace, ye chattering brood!

Wellgunde.

Most prudent sister, why chidest thou so?

Well knowest thou, only by one

The golden charm may be wrought?

He is glaring upward at them, speechless with fury, when his eyes become fixed upon a brilliant point, growing in size and radiance until the whole flood is illumined. There is an exquisite hush of a moment. The sun has risen and kindled its reflection in the gold. The music describes better than words the spreading of tremulous light down through the deep. Through the wavering ripples of water and light cuts the bright call of the gold, the call to wake up and behold. Again and again it rings, regularly a golden voice. The Rhine-daughters have quickly forgotten their victim. They begin their blissful circumswimming of their idol, with a song in ecstatic celebration of it, so penetratingly, joyously sweet, that you readily forgive them their naughtiness: "Rhine-gold! Rhine-gold! Luminous joy! How laugh'st thou so bright and clear!"... Alberich cannot detach his eyes from the vision. "What is it, you sleek ones," he asks in awed curiosity, "glancing and gleaming up there?" "Now where have you barbarian lived," they reply, "never to have heard of the Rhine-gold?" They mock his ignorance; returning to their teasing mood, they invite him to come and revel with them in the streaming light. (4)

6. The Ring Motive

But Alberich has no eyes for them. His gaze is fixed on the

gleaming gold. He asks them what it is; they deride his

ignorance and Wellgunde tells him of its wonders. The world’s

wealth would be won by him who would fashion a ring of it.

The orchestra for the first time proclaims the Ring Motive, that

plays a part of the great importance through all the rest of the

score, under manifold transformations and developments. (2)

As the river glitters with golden light the RHINEGOLD MOTIVE

rings out brilliantly on the trumpet. The Nibelung is fascinated

by the sheen. The Rhine-Daughters gossip with one another,

and Alberich thus learns that the light is that of the Rhinegold,

and that whoever shapeth a ring from this gold will become

invested with great power. Then is heard THE RING MOTIVE in

the woodwind. (1)

7. The Motive of the Renunciation of Love

But this power would belong only to him who would renounce

love; and Woglinde goes on to disclose this fateful proviso, in

the ―Motive of Renunciation‖ gloomy and ominous. The light-

hearted sisters go on with their babbling: but Alberich, still

gazing at the gold, forms his resolve. The Ring Motive and the

Motive of Renunciation are heard in succession. He clambers

up the rock from which the gold is gleaming, and at last seizes

it, wrenches it from its place and makes way with it. (2)

When Flosshilde bids her sisters cease their prattle, lest some

sinister foe should overhear them, the music which

accompanied Alberich‘s threat in the typical Nibelung rhythm

reappears for an instant. Wellgunde and Woglinde ridicule

their sister‘s anxiety, saying that no one would care to filch the

gold, because it would give power only to him who abjures or

renounces love. The darkly prophetic MOTIVE OF THE

WOGLINDE.

Who from delight of love withholds,

Who for its might has heed no more,

Alone he reaches the wonder

That rounds the gold to a ring.

WELLGUNDE.

No dread behoves it to daunt us here;

For life without love is unknown of;

None with its pastime will part.

WOGLINDE.

And hardest the deed to the hankering dwarf;

With fire of love he looks to be faint!

FLOSSHILDE.

I fear him not as I found him now;

With his love he soon would have set me alight.

WELLGUNDE.

Like a brimstone brand in the waves he burned;

With heat of love he hissed aloud.

THE THREE (together).

Wallalalleia! Lahei!

Wildering lover, wilt thou not laugh?

In the swaying gold how softly thou gleam‘st!

Why sound we our laughter alone?

(They laugh.)

ALBERICH (with his eyes fixed on the gold has listened to

the hurried chatter of the sisters).

The world‘s wealth

By the might of thy means I may win—

And forced I not love,

Yet delight at the least I might filch!

(Fearfully loud.)

Laugh as you like!

The Nibelung nears you at last!

(With rage he leaps to the middle peak and climbs with

terrible speed towards its top. The maidens dart asunder

with cries and swim upwards in different directions.)

THE THREE RHINE-DAUGHTERS.

Heia! Heia! Heiahahei!

See to yourselves! The dwarf is unsafe!

How the water spits where he has sprung;

With love his wits he has lost!

(They laugh in maddest merriment.)

Woglinde.

He who the sway of love forswears,

He who delight of love forbears,

Alone the magic can master

That forces the gold to a ring.

Wellgunde.

Secure then are we and free from care:

For all that liveth loveth,

None from love‘s fetters would free him.

Woglinde.

And the least of all he, the languishing dwarf,

With love-desire wasting away.

Flosshilde.

I fear him not whom here we have found:

In his passion‘s blaze nearly I burned.

Wellgunde.

A sulphur brand in the water‘s surge,

In lover‘s frenzy hissing loud!

The Three (together).

Wallalalleia! Lahei!

Loveliest Niblung! Laughest thou not too?

In the golden shimmer how fair thou dost shine!

O come, lovely one, laugh too with us!

(The laugh.)

Alberich (with his eyes fixed on the gold, has listened well

to the sisters’ hasty chatter).

The world‘s wealth

By thy spell might I win for mine own?

If love be denied me,

My cunning shall win me delight!

(Terribly loud.)

Mock ye, then, on!

The Nibelung neareth your toy.

Raging, he springs to the middle rock and clambers with

terrible haste to its summit. The maidens separate,

screaming, and swim upwards on different sides.

The Three Rhine-Daughters.

Heia! Heia! Heiahahei!

Save yourselves! The elf is distraught!

How the water swirls where‘er he swims:

For love has lost him his wits!

(They laugh in unrestrained arrogance.)

RENUNCIATION OF LOVE is heard here, sung by Woglinde.

As Alberich reflects on the words of the Rhine-Daughters the

Ring Motive occurs both in voice and orchestra in mysterious

pianissimo (like an echo of Alberich‘s sinister thoughts), and

is followed by the Motive of Renunciation. Then is heard the

sharp, decisive rhythem of the Nibelung Motive, and ALberich

fiercely springs over to the central rock. The Rhine-Daughters

scream and dart away in different directions. The threatening

measures of the Nibelung—this time loud and relentless—and

Alberich has reached the summit of the highest cliff. (1)

"If it is no good save for you to swim around, it is of small use to me!" is Alberich's dejected observation. As if their treasure had been disparaged, Woglinde informs him that he would hardly despise the gold if he knew all of its wonder! And Wellgunde follows this part-revelation with the whole secret: The whole world would be his inheritance who should fashion out of the Rhine-gold a magic ring. Vainly Flosshilde tries to silence her sisters. Wellgunde and Woglinde laugh at her prudence, reminding her of the gold's assured safety in view of the condition attached to the creation of the ring. This is described in a solemn phrase, serious as the pronouncing of a vow: "Only he who forswears the power of love, only he who casts from him the joys of love, can learn the spell by which the gold may be forced into a ring."—Wherefore, they hold, the gold is safe, "for all that lives wishes to love, no one will give up love," least of all this Nibelung, the heat of whose sentiments had come near scorching them! And they laugh and swim around the gold with their light-hearted “Wallalaleia!” diversified with mocking personalities to the gnome down in the gloom. But they have miscalculated. Without suspecting it, they have gone too far. The dwarf stands staring at the gold, dreaming what it would be to own the world. He is hardly at that moment, thanks to them, in love with love. His resolution is suddenly taken. He springs to the rock, shouting: "Mock on! Mock on! The Nibelung is coming!" With fearful activity, hate-inspired strength, he rapidly climbs the rock on which he had so slipped and floundered before. The foolish nymphs, though they see his approach, are still far from understanding. They still believe it is themselves he seeks to seize. They now not only laugh—they laugh, as the stage-directions have it, “in utter arrogance,” the craziest towering insolence of high spirits. "Save yourselves, the gnome is raving! He has gone mad with love!" He has reached the summit of the rock, he has laid hands on the gold. He cries, "You shall make love in the dark!... I quench your light, I tear your gold from the reef. I shall forge me the ring of vengeance, for, let the flood hear me declare it: I here curse love!" Tearing from its socket their splendid lamp, which utters just once its golden cry, all distorted and lamentable, he plunges with it into the depths, leaving sudden night over the scene in which the wild sisters, shocked at last into sobriety, with cries of Help and Woe start in pursuit of the robber. His harsh laugh of triumph drifts back from the caves of Nibelheim. (4)

ALBERICH (at the top of the peak stretching his hand

towards the gold.)

Dream you no dread?

Then smother the dark your driveling smiles!

Your light let I begone;

The gold I clutch from the rock

And clench to the greatening ring;

For lo! How I curse love,

Be witness the water!

(He seizes, with fearful force, the gold from the ridge, and

plunges headlong with it into the depth where he swiftly

disappears. Thick night breaks suddenly in on all sides.

The maidens dart straight after the thief down into the

depth.)

THE RHINE-DAUGHTERS (screaming).

Grasp the stealer! Stop the gold!

Help! Help! Woe! Woe!

(The flood falls with them down towards the bottom; from

the lowest depth is heard Alberich’s yelling laughter. The

ridges disappear in thickest darkness; the whole scene,

from top to bottom, is filled with black waves of water that

for some time still seem to sink downwards.)

SCENE II

(By degrees the waves change into clouds which become

gradually clearer, and when at last they have quite

disappeared, as it were in fine mist,

An Open District on Mountain-Heights

Becomes visible, at first still dim with night. The breaking

day lightens with growing brightness a castle with shining

battlements that stands upon a point of rock in the

background; between this castle-crowned rock and the

foreground of the scene lies, as is to be supposed, a deep

valley, with the Rhine flowing through it. At the side on

flowery ground lies Wotan with Fricka beside him; both

are asleep.)

FRICKA (awakens, her eye falls on the castle; she is

surprised and alarmed).

Wotan! Husband! Awaken!

WOTAN (lightly in his dream)

The happy hall of delight

Is locked amid gate and guard;

Manhood‘s worship, measureless might,

Mount to unfinishing fame!

Alberich (with a last spring reaches the summit and

stretches his hand out towards the gold).

Fear ye not yet?

Then wanton in darkness, watery brood!

My hand quenches your light,

I wrest from the rock the gold,

Fashion the ring of revenge;

For, hear me ye floods—

Love henceforth be accursed!

He tears the gold from the rock with terrible force and

plunges with it hastily into the depths where he quickly

disappears. Thick darkness falls suddenly on the scene. The

maidens dive down after the robber.

The Rhine-Daughters (crying out).

Seize on the spoiler! Rescue the gold!

Help us! Help us! Woe! Woe!

The water sinks down with them. From the lowest depth is

heard Alberich’s shrill mocking laughter. – The rocks

disappear in thickest darkness; the whole stage is from top

to bottom filled with black water waves, which for some

time seem to sink downwards.

SECOND SCENE

The waves have gradually changed into clouds which little

by little become lighter, and at length disperse into a fine

mist. As the mist disappears upwards in little clouds

An Open Space on a Mountain Height

Becomes visible in the twilight. – The dawning day lights

up with growing brightness a castle with glittering

pinnacles which stands on the top of a cliff in the

background. Between this cliff and the foreground a deep

valley through which the Rhine flows is visible. – At one

side, on a flowery bank, lies WOTAN with FRICKA near

him, both asleep.

Fricka

(awakes: her gaze falls on the castle; alarmed).

Wotan, give ear! Awaken!

Wotan (dreaming).

The sacred dwelling of joy

Is guarded by gate and door:

Manhood‘s honour, might without bound,

Rise now to endless renown!

―Hark, ye floods! Love I renounce forever!‖ he cries, and amid

the crash of the Rhinegold Motive he seizes the gold and

disappears in the depths. With screams of terror the Rhine-

Daughters dive after the robber through the darkened water,

guided by Alberich‘s shrill, mocking laugh. Waters and rocks

sink; as they disappear, the billowy accompaniment sinks

lower and lower in the orchestra. Above it rises once more the

Motive of Renunciation. The Ring Motive is heard, and then

as the waves change into nebulous clouds the billowy

accompaniment rises pianissimo until, with a repetition of the

Ring Motive, the action passes to the second scene. One crime

has already been committed—the theft of the Rhinegold by

Alberich. How that crime and the ring which he shapes from

the gold inspire other crimes is told in the course of the

following scenes of ―Rhinegold‖. Hence the significance of the

Ring Motive as a connecting link between the first and second

scenes. (1)

Sudden darkness falls; the maidens’ merriment turns to

lamentation. Alberich’s mocking laughter is heard from the

depths, and in the darkness the scene changes, as the

orchestra plays a passage composed of motives previously

employed. The music becomes subdued and more measured as

the Motive of Renunciation and the Ring are heard. These are

interrupted by a harp passage delicately suggesting the Motive

of Freia that will later appear in more characteristic form. (2)

8. The Motive of Valhalla

The dawn illumines a castle with glittering turrets on a rocky

height at the back. Through a deep valley between this and the

foreground the Rhine flows. With the opening of the second

scene the stately VALHALLA MOTIVE is heard. This is a motive

of superb beauty. It greets us again and again in ―Rhinegold‖

and frequently in the later music-dramas of the cycle. Yet

often as it occurs, one hears it with ever-growing admiration.

Valhalla is the dwelling of gods and heroes, and its motive is

divinely and heroically beautiful. Though it is essentially

broad and stately it often assumes a tender mood, like the

chivalric gentleness which every true hero feels toward

woman. Thus it is at the opening of the second scene, for here

this motive, which when played forte or fortissimo is one of

the stateliest of musical inspirations, is marked piano and

molto dolce. In crescendo and decrescendo it rises and falls, as

rises and falls with each breath the bosom of the beautiful

Fricka, who slumbers at Wotan‘s side. (1)

The stage gradually brightens, and the castle of Valhalla is

disclosed, standing upon a cliff overlooking the Rhine. Wotan

and Fricka lie asleep in the foreground. Day is dawning. The

Motive of Valhalla is softly intoned by the brass instrument.

The motive is one of the most grandiose and imposing of all,

and wonderfully expressive of the power and dignity of the

gods. It is generally played by the brass choir of the orchestra,

which Wagner reinforced by the so-called ―Bayreuth tubas,‖

FRICKA (shakes him).

Up from the dreadless drift of thy dreams!

Awake, and weigh what thou doest!

WOTAN (awakes, and raises himself a little; his eye is

immediately caught by sight of the castle).

Behold the unwithering work!

With heeding towers the height is tipped;

Broadly stands the stately abode!

As I drew it in my dream—

As it was in my will—

Safe and fair finds it my sight,—

Holy, sheltering home!

FRICKA.

So meet thou deemest

what most is my dread?

Thy welcomed walls

for Freia beware of.

Waken and be not unmindful

to what a meed thou art bound!

The work is ended

and owed for as well;

forgettest thou what thou must give?

WOTAN.

Forgotten not is the guerdon

they named who worked at the walls;

the unbending team

by bargain I tamed,

that here the lordly

hall might be lifted;

they piled it thanks befall them;

for the pay fret not thy thought.

FRICKA.

O light unmerciful laughter!

Loveless masterly mischief!

Had I but heard of your freak,

its fraud would wholly have failed;

but boldly you worked it

abroad from the women,

where safe from sight you were left

alone with the giants to juggle.

So without shame

or shyness you sold them

Freia, my flowering sister,

and deemed it sweetly was done.

What to you men

for worship is meet,

when your minds are on might?

Fricka (shakes him).

Up from thy vision‘s blissful deceit!

My husband, wake and bethink thee!

Wotan (awakes and raises himself a little. His eyes are at

once fixed by the view of the castle).

Achieved the eternal work!

On mountain summit the gods‘ abode!

Proudly stand the glittering walls!

As in dreams ‗twas designed,

As by will ‗twas decreed,

Strong and fair stand it in sight:

Hallowed, glorious pile!

Fricka.

What thee delighteth

brings me but dread!

Thou hast thy joy,

my fear is for Freia!

Heedless one, dost thou remember

the truly promised reward!

The work is finished

and forfeit the pledge:

forgettest thou what thou must pay?

Wotan.

I mind me well of the bargain

they made who raised me the walls:

by a bond bound

were the rebels in thrall,

that they this hallowed

dwelling might build me;

it stands now — thank the workers: —

for the wage fret not thyself.

Fricka.

O laughing, impious lightness!

loveless, cold-hearted folly!

Had I but known of thy pact,

the trick I then had withstood;

but ever ye men

kept afar from the women,

that, deaf to us and in peace,

alone ye might deal with the giants.

So without shame

ye base ones abandoned

Freia, my loveliest sister,

pleased right well with your pact!

What to our hard hearts

is holy and good,

when ye men lust for might!

an instrument devised by him for his Nibelung instrumentation.

The relationship of this motive with that of the Ring will

appear on examination; but its form is more massive, its

harmonies simplified and its intervals made diatonic instead of

chromatic. This inter-relation of themes of allied significance

will be met with through the whole Trilogy. It is one of the

most subtle and potent devices employed by Wagner to

enhance their suggestiveness, and to secure coherency and

unity in his system. (2)

The second scene of the Rheingold introduces us to the world of the Gods; the forms, that is to say, in which the human mind embodies its ideas of the ruling powers of the universe. Wotan, Fricka, and the others, here represent not merely the Northern Divinities, from whom their names are borrowed, but all religious creeds whatsoever that have held sway over the human race; and Wotan himself, as the typical figure, symbolizes the Power of Creed. (3)

Then occurs a gradual transformation-scene both to the eye and the ear. The rocks disappear, black waves flow past, the whole all the while appearing to sink. Clouds succeed the water, mist the clouds. This finally clears, revealing a calm and lovely scene on the mountain-heights. The music has during this been painting the change, too: Sounds of running water, above which hovers a moment, a memory of the scene just past and a foreboding of its sorrowful consequences, the strain signifying the renunciation of love; when this dies away, the motif of the ring, to be heard so many times after, its fateful character plainly conveyed by the notes, which also literally describe its circular form. By what magic of modulation the uninitiated cannot discern, the ring-motif, as the water by degrees is translated into mist, slides by subtle changes into a motif which seems, when it is reached, conspicuously different from it, the motif of the Gods' Abode. There in the distance it stands, when the mists have perfectly cleared, bathed in fresh morning light, the tall just-completed castle, with shimmering battlements, crowning a high rocky mountain, at whose base, far down out of sight, flows the Rhine. For the Rhine is the centre of the world we are occupied with: under it, the Nibelungs; above it, the Gods; beside it, the giants and the insignificant human race. The music itself here, while the dwelling of the gods is coming into sight, seems to build a castle: story above story it rises, topped with gleaming pinnacles, one lighter and taller than all the rest, piercing the clouds. (4)

As Fricka awakens her eyes fall on the castle. In her surprise

she calls to her spouse. Wotan dreams on, the Ring Motive,

and later the Valhalla Motive being heard in the orchestra, for

with the ring Wotan is finally to compensate the Giants for

building Valhalla. As he opens his eyes and sees the castle you

hear the ―Spear Motive,‖ which is a characteristic variation of

the Motive of Compact‖. For Wotan should enforce, if

needful, the compacts of the Gods with his spear. (1)

WOTAN.

Was Wotan's want

from Fricka so far,

who sought for the fastness herself ?

FRICKA.

Of my husband's truth was my heed;

I tried, in soundless sorrow,

how to find him the fetters

fittest to hold him at home;

lordly abode

and blissful living

lightly with bitless reins

should bind thee to lingering rest;

thy bent for the building leaned

on fence and fight alone;

worship and might

thou mean'st it to widen;

that steadier storm may betide thee

thou turn'st to its towering strength.

WOTAN (smiling).

Wert thou to grasp me

in guard like a woman,

thou yet must yield to my godhood

that, in the bulwarks

irked and bounded,

the world it outwards should win.

Freedom and freshness

he loves who lives;

I part not lightly with pastime.

FRICKA.

Hard, unmoved

and harassing man!

For might and lordship's

meaningless lure,

thou scatter'st in loudness of scorn

love and a woman's worth!

WOTAN (earnestly),

To earn a wife in thee was it

my other eye

went into pledge when I wooed;

how blindly passed is thy blame!

Women I worship

too far for thy wish;

and Freia, the sweet'ner,

sell I not forth;

I meant not such in my mind.

Wotan.

Was like greed

to Fricka unknown,

when she for the building did beg?

Fricka.

For my husband's truth aye in care

with sorrow must I ponder,

how to hold him beside me,

lured by his fancy afar:

halls fair and stately,

joys of the homestead,

surely should bind thee

in peaceful repose.

But thou in this work hast dreamed

of war and arms alone:

glory and might

ever to win thee,

and ne'er ending strife to enkindle,

were builded the towering walls.

Wotan (smiling).

Wouldst thou, o wife,

in the fortress then fix me,

to me, the God, must be granted,

that, in the castle

prisoned, yet from

outside I must win me the world:

ranging and changing

love all who live;

forego that game, then, I cannot!

Fricka.

Cold, unloving,

pitiless heart!

For the vain delights

of power and sway

thou stakest in insolent scorn

love and a woman's worth?

Wotan (gravely).

When I for wife sought to win thee,

an eye as forfeit

placed I wooing in pledge:

how vainly now dost thou chide!

Women I worship

e'en more than thou wouldst;

and Freia, the fair one,

will I not grant;

in truth, such thought ne'er was mine.

In the foreground lie sleeping side by side, on a flowery bank, the god and goddess Wotan and Fricka. He lies dreaming happily of the abode from which the world is to be commanded by him, to the display of immeasurable power and his eternal honour. His wife's sleep is less easy. For the situation is not as free from complications as his untroubled slumbers might lead one to suppose. Wotan has employed to build him this stronghold the giants Fasolt and Fafner, formerly his enemies, but bound to peace by treaties, and has promised them the reward stipulated for, Freia, goddess of beauty and youth, sister of Fricka. And this he has done without any serious thought of keeping his word. "It has never seriously entered my mind," he assures Fricka, when, starting in dismay from her sleep and beholding the completed burg, she reminds him that the time is come for payment, and asks what shall they do. Loge, he enlightens her, counselled the compact and promised to find the means of evading it. He relies upon him to do so. This calm frankness in the god, with its effect of personal clearness from all sense of guilt, suggests the measure of Wotan's distinguishing simplicity. Referring later to the dubious act which so effectually laid the foundation of sorrows, he says, "Unknowingly deceitful, I practised untruth. Loge artfully tempted me." He explains himself to Fricka, when she asks why he continues to trust the crafty Loge, who has often already brought them into straits: "Where frank courage is sufficient, I ask counsel of no one. But slyness and cunning are needed to turn to advantage the ill-will of adversaries, and that is the talent of Loge." (4)

9. The Motive of Compact

Wotan sings of the glory of Walhalla. All through his

apostrophe resounds the Walhalla Motive. Fricka reminds him

that he has made a compact with the Giants to deliver over to

them for their work in building Walhalla, Freia, the Goddess

of Youth and Beauty. This introduces on the cellos and double

basses the MOTIVE OF COMPACT. A theme more expressive of

the binding force of law it is impossible to conceive. It has the

inherent dignity and power of the idea of justice. (1)

The god and the goddess rejoice in the sight of the ―eternal

work,‖ but the troubling thoughts of the price to be paid comes

speedily. With it we hear in the orchestra the motive of the

Compact, by which that price, the person of Freia, goddess of

Love and Youth, was agreed upon with the giants. Another

suggestion of the forces of Fate that work for destruction

through the drama. Those who like may see in the steady

downward course of the melody a suggestion of the fall of the

gods of which this fatal compact was the starting point. (2)

10. The Fricka Motive (The Enchainment of Love)

Fricka upbraids her spouse for his recklessness in entering

into it—what had led her to consent was the hope of keeping

him with her in these stately halls and thereby curtailing his

wanderings; and this she expresses in a motive characteristic

of the enchaining power of woman’s love in marriage. (2)

FRICKA.

Then shield her to-day;

in shelterless dread

hither she dashes for help!

FREIA (entering hurriedly).

Ward me, sister! See to me, Wotan!

For Fasolt roars,

from the ridge of his fastness,

his fist is ready to fetch me.

WOTAN.

Let him howl!

Beheld'st thou not Loge?

FRICKA.

How besettingly try'st thou

his slyness with trust!

Though harm we have stood at his hands,

he clouds thee still with his cunning.

WOTAN.

Where manly mood counts

I call none of my neighbours;

but to find in hate

of foes a friendship,

cunning only and craft,

with Loge to lead them, can aid.

He, whom 1 hearkened to, swore

to find a safety for Freia;

on him my hope I have set.

FRICKA.

And he leaves thee alone.

Here stride instead

the giants in storm;

where slinks thy slippery stay?

FREIA.

What hinders my brothers

from help they should bring me,

when of Wotan's my weakness is bare?

Behold me, Donner!

Hither! Hither!

Haste to Freia, my Froh!

FRICKA.

In the heartless bargain who bound thee,

they hide their best from thee here.

(FASOLT and FAFNER enter, both of giants' stature, and

armed with strong stakes.)

Fricka.

Then shelter her now:

defenceless, in fear,

hither she hastens for help.

Freia (enters as if in hasty flight).

Help me, sister! shelter me, brother!

From yonder mountain

threatened me Fasolt,

he comes now hither to take me.

Wotan.

Let him threat!

Saw'st thou not Loge?

Fricka.

That thou still on the trickster

bestowest thy trust — !

Much wrong he ever has wrought,

yet aye again he ensnares thee.

Wotan.

Where simple truth serves,

alone I seek no helper.

But, to force the spite

of foes to serve me,

guile and cunning alone,

as Loge has learned them, can teach.

He who this treaty designed

gave promise Freia to ransom:

on him I fix now my faith.

Fricka.

And he leaves thee alone! —

There stride the giants

hither in haste:

where lurks thy crafty ally?

Freia.

Where linger, then, my brothers,

when help they should bring me,

now that Wotan abandons the weak!

help me, Donner!

Hither, hither!

Rescue Freia, my Froh!

Fricka.

The disgraceful band who betrayed thee,

have all now hidden away!

Fasolt and Fafner

(both of gigantic stature, armed with strong clubs, enter).

And so this powerful clan-chief had had a fancy for a house to live in worthy of their greatness. Fricka had fallen in with his desire, but for reasons of her own. To him the citadel was a fresh addition to his power. But Fricka had been "ill at ease with regard to her consort's fidelity," and had thought the beautiful dwelling might keep him at home. With her words, "Beautiful dwelling, delectable household order," first occurs the winning strain which afterward stands for Fricka in her love of domesticity, or, separate from her, for the pure charm of home. When the giants, however, had been subsidised for the great work of building the house, the narrow-conscienced women had been kept out of the way while an agreement was reached with the builders; a grievance which Fricka remembers, and does not let her spouse forget, when the evil consequences of his act are upon them. Fricka constitutes something of a living reproach to her husband, though a certain tender regard still exists between them through the introductory opera. A thankless part is Fricka's, like that of Reason in opposition to Feeling and Genius. (4)

Then follows a little domestic spat between Wotan and Fricka,

Wotan claiming that Fricka was as anxious as he to have

Walhalla built, and Fricka answering that she desired to have it

erected in order to persuade Wotan to lead a more domestic

life. At Fricka‘s words, ―Halls, bright and gleaming,‖ the

FRICKA MOTIVE is heard for the first time. It is a caressing

motive of much grace and beauty. It is also prominent in

Wotan‘s reply immediately following. When Wotan tells

Fricka that he never intended to really give up Freia to the

Giants, chromatics, like little tongues of fire, appear in the

accompaniment. They are suggestive of the Loge Motive, for

with the aid of Loge, Wotan hopes to trick the Giants. ―Then

save her at once!‖ calls Fricka, as Freia enters in hasty flight.

At this point is heard the first bar of the FREIA MOTIVE

combined with the FLIGHT MOTIVE. (1)

11. The Flight Motive

And now Freia comes running to him in terror, crying that one of the giants has told her he is come to fetch her. With her entrance we first hear the slender sweet phrase, delicately wandering upward, which after for a time denoting Freia, comes to mean for us just beauty. Wotan calms the maiden in distress, and asks, as one fancies, a little uneasily, "Have you seen nothing of Loge?" (4)

Disjected chords in the orchestra foreshadow the approach of

Freia, fleeing from the giants who are trying to seize her as

their promised reward. The Flight Motive is sounded in the

orchestra, combined with the first clause of the motive

representative of herself, only later appearing in its full and

complete form. (2)

FASOLT.

Soft sleep sealed thy sight;

we set meanwhile

unslumb'ringly the walls.

Nameless toil tired us not;

strength of stone on high we stowed;

deep in towers, tight with doors,

holds and seals the slender house its hall.

Well stands what we steepened,

decked with light of laughing dawn;

pass the gate, and give the pay!

WOTAN.

Name, neighbours, your meed;

what like you most to light on?

FASOLT.

The rate we mean

already is marked;

I find thy memory faint.

Freia, the holder

Holda, the freer

we have thy word

her win we for home.

WOTAN.

Sick is thy brain

with bargain and sale?

Think on fitter thanks;

Freia I sell not so.

FASOLT

(for a moment speechless with rage and surprise).

What hear I? Ha!

Brood'st thou on harm,

on hurt to the bond?

On thy spear written

read'st thou as sport

the runes that bound the bargain?

FAFNIR (sneering).

My trusty brother!

Tells the blockhead a trap?

FASOLT.

Light-son, lightly made and minded,

hark with timely heed

and truthful be to bonds!

All thou art abides but under a bargain;

in measured mood

wisely weighed was thy might.

Fasolt.

Soft sleep closed thine eyes;

the while we twain

unslumb'ring built the walls.

Mighty toil tired us not,

heavy stones we heaped on high;

lofty tower, gate and door

guard and keep thy castle halls secure.

There stands what we builded,

shining bright in day-light's beams:

wend ye in, pay us our wage!

Wotan.

Name, workers, your wage;

what deem ye fitting guerdon?

Fasolt.

The price was fixed

as fit it was deemed;

is all so soon forgot?

Freia, the fair one,

Holda, the free one, —

the bargain holds,

we bear her with us.

Wotan.

Has, then, your bargain

blinded your wits?

Other guerdon ask:

Freia may I not grant!

Fasolt (for a moment stands speechless with angry

astonishment).

What say'st thou? Ha!

Traitor art thou?

thy treaty a trick?

What thy spear wards

serves but for sport,

all the runes of weighty bargains?

Fafner (mockingly).

My trusty brother,

seest thou, fool, now his guile?

Fasolt.

Son of light, light of spirit!

hear and heed thyself;

in treaties aye keep troth!

What thou art, art thou only by treaties;

by bargains bound,

bounded too is thy might:

12. The Giant Motive (and Compact with the Giants)

Fasolt was the giant who had threatened her; and at the

mention of his name a suggestion of the Giants’ Motive comes

from the orchestra, but not its complete form—only one giant

is mentioned! Wotan bids her not to fear—did she see Loge?

For upon Loge he relies to free him from his predicament; and

his name, too, calls forth a suggestion of his flickering theme,

but not yet in well recognizable shape. Come the giants,

stamping in clumsily and quite unmistakably. They point to the

newly completed burg and ask their pay; Wotan jauntily

inquires what they want. The Compact Motive is sounded, as

they say that of course it is the fair Freia, as agreed; and her

motive, not even yet in its definite form, is heard. The giants

are speechless with rage at this treachery. (2)

With Freia‘s exclamations that the Giants are pursuing her the

first suggestion of the Giant Motive appears, and as these

―great, hulking fellows‖ enter, the heavy, clumsy GIANT

MOTIVE is heard in its entirety. Fasolt and Fafnir have come to

demand that Wotan deliver up to them Freia, according to his

promise when they agreed to build Walhalla for him. In the

ensuing scene, in which Wotan parleys with the giants, the

Giant Motive, the Walhalla Motive, the Motive of the

Compact and the first bar of the Freia Motive figure until

Fasolt‘s threatening words: ―Peace wane when you break your

compact,‖ when there is heard a version of the Motive of

Compact characteristic enough to be distinguished as the

MOTIVE OF COMPACT WITH THE GIANTS. (1)

The arrival of the giants is one of the great comedy moments of the play. Their colossally heavy tread, musically rendered, never fails to call forth laughter from some corner in us of left-over childhood. It is like the ogre's Fee-faw-fum. Fasolt is a good giant, his shaggy hair is blond, his fur-tunic white, and his soft big heart all given over to the touchingly lovely Freia. Fafner is a bad giant and his hair and furs are black. He is much cleverer than his brother. They carry as walking-sticks the trunks of trees. They make it known that they have come for their wages. Wotan bids them, with a sturdy aplomb worthy of his godhead, state their wishes. What shall the wages be? Fasolt, a shade astonished, replies, "That, of course, which we settled upon. Have you forgotten so soon? Freia.... It is in the bond that she shall follow us home."

"Have you taken leave of your senses... with you bond?" asks Wotan, with a quick flash. "You must think of a different recompense. Freia is far too precious to me." The giant is for a moment still, unable to speak for indignation; but recovering his voice he makes to the "son of light" a series of observations eminently to the point. Wotan to these makes no more retort than as if the words had not been spoken; but--to gain time till Loge shall arrive--when the giant has quite finished, he inquires, "What, after all, can the charm of the amiable goddess signify to you clumsy boors?" Fasolt enlarges, "You, reigning through beauty, shimmering lightsome race, lightly you offer to barter for stone towers woman's loveliness. We simpletons labour with toil-hardened hands to earn a sweet woman who shall dwell with us poor devils.... And you mean to call the bargain naught?..." (4)

Thou warier wert than we in thy wits,

wielded'st our freedom to friendly ways;

curses await thy wisdom,

far I keep from thy friendship,

find I thee aught but open and fair

when faith to thy bargains is bid!

A senseless giant so has said;

though wiser, see it his way!

WOTAN.

How slyly thou say'st we meant

what passed at playtime among us!

The flowery goddess, gleaming and fleet,

would blind you both with a glance!

FASOLT.

Must thou mock? Ha! is it meet?

You who for fairness rule,

young unfaltering race,

like fools you strive

for a fastness of stone,

put for house and hall

worth of woman in pledge!

We sorely hasten

and sweat with hardening hand,

till won is a woman

with sweetening ways

beside us to wait;

and upset wilt thou the sale?

FAFNER.

Balk thy worthless babble!

For wealth woo we no bit!

Faintly help us Freia's fetters;

yet much grows

if once from the gods we can get her.

Golden apples

there are in her gleaming garden;

none but her has the knowledge to nurse them;

the kindly fruit kindles her fellows

to youth that bears unyellowing blossom;

far at once they wane from their flower,

weak and low will they be left,

when Freia feeds them no longer;

from their faces let her be led!

WOTAN (to himself).

Loge saunters long!

FASOLT.

Make swiftly thy mind!

art wiser thou than wary are we,

pledged are we freemen in peace to thee:

cursed be all thy wisdom,

peace be no more between us,

if, no more open, honest and free,

in bargains thou breakest thy faith!

A foolish giant gives this rede:

thou, wise one, learn it from him!

Wotan.

How sly to take in earnest

what but in sport we have spoken!

The loveliest goddess, light and bright,

what boots you dullards her grace?

Fasolt.

Mock'st thou us? ha, how unjust!

Ye who by beauty reign,

hallowed radiant race!

how vainly strive ye

for towers of stone,

place for court and hall

woman's beauty in pledge!

We, dullards, plague ourselves,

sweating with toil-hardened hands —

to win us a woman,

who, winsome and sweet,

should dwell aye among us:

and the pact call'st thou a jest?

Fafner.

Cease thy foolish chatter;

no gain look we to win:

Freia's charms help little,

but much it boots

from 'mongst the gods now to wrest her.

Golden apples

ripen within her garden,

she alone knoweth how they are tended;

the garden's fruit grants to her kindred,

each day renewed, youth everlasting:

pale and blighted passeth their beauty,

old and weak waste they away,

if e'er Freia should fail them.

From their midst let us bear her away!

Wotan (aside).

Loge lingers long!

Fasolt.

Straight speak now thy word!

To return to the second scene of the Rheingold, we find that already the disturbing element of selfish Desire, by which hereafter the doom of the creeds is brought about, has entered into the world of the Gods. Its introgression here is typified by the building of Walhall, the symbol of selfish sway for their race, and of parallel significance to the Ring, in the lower sensual sphere of the Nibelungs. Wotan has ratified with the Giants, Fafner and Fasolt, a compact by virtue of which the latter are to erect for the Gods the castle Walhall, and to receive in return Freia, the goddess of love and beauty. The original suggestion of this scene is to be found in the Younger Edda, where a certain smith of the giant kin bargains to build a burg for the Aesir, and he shall have, as his hire, Freia and the Sun and Moon. In the Eddaic Songs the Giants are huge elemental beings, older than the Gods, and their home—Riesenheim, Giant-home, the Old Norse Jötunheim—is in the region of ice and snow, lying far in the North beyond the great mid-earth ocean. Wagner speaks of them as “they who once ruled the world, the towering race of Giants,” and the Edda relates how of the Giant Ymir’s body the earth itself was formed. They represent then the chaotic condition of the primæval world, barren and unproductive, ere yet the beneficent Gods, their constant enemies, had sent the fertilizing showers and the ripening warmth of the summer sun; and thus in our poem these uncouth beings may be regarded as an appropriate type of Ignorance, and the bargain by which the Gods are bound to them denotes that inevitable period in the history of all creeds when, by the aid of man’s ignorance, they commence to set limits to the exercise of his free thought, and to assert an absolute and dogmatic rule over his mind. This limitation is suggested by the walls of Walhall. But hereby is determined the doom of creeds; their freedom has departed, and the bond that binds them to ignorance, although it give them temporary power, is the cause of their downfall when the human mind at length breaks the shackles of credulity and superstition. Runes of Bargain are cut in Wotan’s spear-shaft, as a token of this unenduring sovereignty over humanity. (3)

13. The Motive of Eternal Youth (The Golden Apples)

The Walhalla, Giant and Freia motives again are heard until

Fafner speaks of the golden apples which grow in Freia‘s

garden. These golden apples are the fruit of which the gods

partake in order to enjoy eternal youth. THE MOTIVE OF

ETERNAL YOUTH, which now appears, is one of the loveliest

in the cycle. It seems as though age could not wither it, nor

custom stale its infinite variety. Its first bar is reminiscent of

the Ring Motive, for there is subtle relationship between the

Golden Apples of Freia and the Rhinegold. The motive is

finely combined with that of the Giant Motive at Fafner‘s

words: ―Let her forthwith be torn from them all.‖ (1)

Fafner gloomily checks Fasolt: Words will not help them. And the possession of Freia in itself is to his mind of little account. But of great account to take her from the gods. In her garden grow golden apples, she alone has the art of tending these. Eating this fruit maintains her kinsmen in unwaning youth. Were Freia removed, they must age and fade. Wherefore let Freia be seized! Wotan frets underbreath, "Loge is long acoming!" (4)

WOTAN.

Point to lighter pay!

FASOLT.

No lower; Freia alone!

FAFNER.

Thou there, follow forth!

(They press towards Freia.)

FREIA (fleeing).

Help! Help! they will have me!

(Donner and Froh hurry in.)

FROH (taking Freia in his arms).

To me, Freia!

Meddle no further!

Froh saves his sister.

DONNER (placing himself before the giants).

Fasolt and Fafner

have halted before

at my hammer's hearty fall!

FAFNER.

What wilt thou threat?

FASOLT.

Who thrusts this way?

Fight fits us not now;

we need what fairly we named.

DONNER (swinging his hammer).

I judged oft what giants are owed;

rested no day in wretches' debt;

behold! your guerdon here

I give you in worthy weight!

WOTAN (stretching out his spear bet-ween the opponents)

Hold, thou haster! Force is unfit!

I shield the words on my weapon's shaft;

beware for thy hammer's hilt!

FREIA.

Sorrow! Sorrow!

Wotan forsakes me!

FRICKA.

As hitherto hard

find I thy heart?

Wotan.

Ask for other wage!

Fasolt.

No other, Freia alone!

Fafner.

Thou, there, follow us!

(Fafner and Fasolt press towards FREIA.)

Freia (getting away).

Help! help from the hard ones!

(Donner and Froh enter in haste).

Froh (clasping Freia in his arms).

To me, Freia!

Back from her, miscreant!

Froh shields the fair one!

Donner (planting himself before the two giants).

Fasolt and Fafner,

know ye the weight

of my hammer's heavy blow?

Fafner.

What means thy threat?

Fasolt.

Why com'st thou here?

Strife have we not sought,

nought ask we now but our wage.

Donner (swings his hammer).

Full oft paid I, giants, your wage.

In debt to thieves I ne'er remain.

Approach and take your due

weighed with a generous hand.

Wotan (stretching out his spear between the disputants).

Hold, thou fierce one! Nought booteth force!

All bonds the shaft of my spear doth shield:

spare then thy hammer's haft!

Freia.

Woe's me! Woe's me!

Wotan forsakes me !

Fricka.

Is this thy resolve,

merciless heart?

Fafnir, in replying to Wotan’s scornful query as to what such

dullards want of her, recalls the Golden Apples that ripen in

her garden; and their motive is a musical expression of the

everlasting youth and joy they bring. The commentators

request us to notice the relationship of this with the motives of

the Ring, of Renunciation and of Valhalla. (2)

Another, or rather a continued, parallelism is to be noticed in this scene; for Wotan’s renunciation of Freia, as the price of Walhall, corresponds exactly with Alberich’s renunciation of love to obtain the Ring. But Freia is the life of the Gods: the Goddess of Love is the emblem of spiritual life. It is she who feeds them with the golden apples of everlasting youth; deprived of her they are already dying, and it is therefore evident that means must be found of recovering her without delay. (3)

Froh (Freyr) and Donner (Thor), Freia‘s brother, enter hastily

to save their sister. As Froh clasps her in his arms, while

Donner confronts the Giants, the Motive of Eternal Youth

rings out triumphantly on the horns and woodwind. But Freia‘s

hope is short-lived. The Motive of the Compact with the

Giants, with its weighty import, resounds as Wotan stretches

his spear between the hostile groups. For though Wotan

desires to keep Freia in Walhalla, he dare not offend the

Giants. (1)

14. The Freya Motive

Freia's cries, as the giants lay hands upon her, bring her brothers Donner and Froh—the god of Thunder and the god of the Fields—quickly to her side. A combat between them and the giants is imminent, when Wotan parts the antagonists with his spear, "Nothing by violence!" and he adds, what it might be thought he had lost sight of, "My spear is the protector of bargains!"

Strong and calm is Wotan; music of might and august beauty, large music, supports every one of his utterances. There is no departure from this, even when his signal fallibility is in question. Waftures of Walhalla most commonly accompany his steps; the close of his speech is frequently marked by the sturdy motif of his spear, the spear inseparable from him, cut by him from the World-Ash, carved with runes establishing the bindingness of compacts, by aid of which he had conquered the world, subdued the giants, the Nibelungs, and Loge, the Spirit of Fire. Athirst for power he is, before all: in this trait lie the original seeds of his destruction; it is for the sake of the tokens of power, the castle and later the ring, that he commits the injustices which bring about ruin. Athirst, too, for wisdom: he has given one of his eyes for Wisdom, in the person of Fricka, who combines in herself law and order and domestic virtue. And athirst for love,--something of a grievance to Fricka. "I honour women more than pleases you," he retorts to her reproach of contempt for woman's love and worth, evidenced in his light ceding of Freia. He calls himself and all call him a god, adding "eternal" even when the gods' end is glaringly at hand. The other gods look to him as chief among them. But he is ever acknowledging the existence of something outside and above himself, a law, a moral necessity, which it is no use to contend

WOTAN (turns away and sees Loge coining).

Loge at last!

Com'st thou so soon to see me unclasped

from the cursed bond of thy bargain?

LOGE

(has come in from the background, out of the valley).

Why? from what bargain

where I have bound thee?

The one that the giants

joined thee wisely to work?

For heights and for hollows hankers my heart;

house and hearth not a day I hold;

Donner and Froh

are fonder of roof and room;

when they will woo,

a house wait they to have;

a stately hall, a standing home,

were what stirred Wotan's wish.

House and hall wall and wing

the laughing abode at last is broadly built;

the soaring towers I tested myself;

if all was hard I asked with heed;

Fasolt and Fafner I found were fair;

not a stone flinched where it stood.

No sloven was I like some I see;

he lies who says I was lame!

WOTAN.

So slily

slipp'st thou aside ?

How thou betray'st me

take the whole of thy heed !

Among us all

not another moved

even with me

to up-aid thee into our midst.

Now spur thy wits and speak !

When first as worth of their walls

the workmen fixed upon Freia,

thou saw'st I would

no sooner be won

than on thy oath I had put thee

to loosen the lordly pledge.

LOGE.

With lasting heed to look for hints

of how we might loose her

such wholly I swore;

but now to find thee what never fits

what needs must fail,

a bond could nowhere have bound me!

Wotan (turns away and sees Loge coming).

There is Loge!

Such is thy haste bargains to mend

that were struck by thy evil counsel?

Loge

(has come up out of the valley).

How? what bargain

have I then counselled?

Belike 'twas the pact

that ye with the giants did make?

To hollow and height my whim drives me on;

house and hearth delight me not.

Donner and Froh

are dreaming of household joys;

if they would wed,

a home e'en must they find.

A proud abode, a castle sure,

thereto leaned Wotan's wish.

House and hall, court and keep,

the blessed abode now standeth firmly built.

The lordly pile I proved myself,

if all be firm, well have I tried:

Fasolt and Fafner faithful I found:

no stone stirs on its bed.

Not idle was I like many here;

who calls me laggard, he lies.

Wotan.

Craftily

wouldst thou escape?

If thou betray me,

truly I bid thee beware!

Of all the Gods,

as thy only friend,

I took thee up

mid the troop who trusted thee not.

Now speak and counsel well.

Whenas the builders did crave

from us Freia as guerdon,

thou know'st, I only

yielded my word

when, on thy faith, thou didst promise

to ransom the hallowed pledge?

Loge.

With greatest pains thereon to ponder,

how we might free her,

that — promise I gave.

But there to prosper where nought will fit

and nought will serve —

could e'er such promise be given?

against; through which, do what he may, disaster finally overtakes him for having tried to disregard it. There is a stray hint from him that the world is his very possession and that he could at will destroy it; but this which so many facts contradict we may regard as a dream. Yet he feels toward the world most certainly a responsibility, such as a sovereign's toward his people; a duty, part of which is that for its sake he must not allow his spear to be dishonoured. Compacts it must sacredly guard. All his personal troubles come from this necessity, this constant check to him: he must respect covenants, his spear stands for their integrity. Alberich in a bitter discussion declares his knowledge of where the god is weak, and reminds him that if he should break a covenant sanctioned by the spear in his hand, this, the symbol of his power, would split into spray!

He is perhaps best understood, on the whole, with his remorse and despair, the tortures of his heart and his struggle with his soul, if one can conceive him as a sort of sublimated aristocrat; a resplendent great personage--just imaginable in the dawn of history, when there were giants upon earth--lifted far above the ordinary of the race by superior gifts, "reigning through beauty," as Fasolt describes; possessing faculties not shared by common mortals, but these rudimentary or else in their decline: the power of divination, not always accurate or clear; the power of miracle, not altogether to be relied upon; remaining young indefinitely, yet not wholly enfranchised from time and circumstance; living indefinitely, but recognising himself as perishable, and passing at last, swallowed in twilight. A great warrior and leader of heroes, inciter of men to bold actions and novel flights; some of his titles: Father of Hosts, Father of Battles, Father of Victory; riding in the storm-clouds on his “Luft-ross,” his air-horse, whose hoof-beats and neigh fill us with excited delight. But his air-horse cannot overtake Bruennhilde's air-horse, in his pursuit of her, and Grane reaching the goal falls exhausted.... A great reveller: reference is repeatedly made to the light-minded, light-hearted, careless humour of the gods, their glorious feasts and joyous life in the light up there. Their tribe is qualified as "laughing." Wotan's unshakable dignity indeed does not prevent a quick easy laugh. And he shows the true aristocratic temper in being little moved by the sorrows of those beneath and unrelated to him: one of his laughs, which we witness, is for the howls of a poor wee dwarf who had been savagely beaten. (4)

15. Loki’s Motive / 16. The Magic Fire

The situation is becoming critical, when a respite is gained

through the arrival of the long-expected Loge, the fire god, the

intriguer, the shifty and adroit. The motive that accompanies

him and his doings has been described as the most

characteristic one in the whole Trilogy—a sparkling,

scintillating passage in chromatics, ending with trills in sixths.

Its descriptive quality is unmistakable. Closely associated with

it is the motive of his Fire Magic. He has much to say of his

efforts to think of some way to help Wotan, which rouses the

anger of the gods Froh and Donner; but Wotan calms them

with assurances of the worth of Loge’s counsel. We hear the

motive of Reflection that later, in ―Siegfried,‖ is to be the

audible symbol of much thought. (2)

FRICKA (to Wotan).

Wronged I lately the lingering rogue?

FROH.

Thou art known as Loge, but liar I name thee!

DONNER.

Thou cursed fire, I'll crush thee flat!

LOGE.

Their blame to screen scold me the babies.

(Donner and Froh prepare to attack him.)

WOTAN (forbidding them).

In freedom leave me my friend,

and scorn not Loge's skill;

richer worth in his words is read

when counted well as they come.

FAFNER.

Push the counting! Quickly pay!

FASOLT.

Much palters the meed!

WOTAN (to Loge).

Await, harasser! Hark to me well!

What was it that held thee away?

LOGE.

Threats are what Loge learns of thanks !

In heed for thy strait I hied like a storm,

I drifted and drove

through the width of the world,

to find a ransom for Freia

fit for the giants and fair.

I looked soundly, but see that at last

in the wheeling world lies not the wealth,

that can weigh in mind of a man

for woman's wonder and worth.

(All fall into surprise and confusion.)

Where life is to be lit on,

in water, earth, and wind,

I asked always, sought without end,

where forces beset, and seeds are unfettered,

what has in mind of man more weight

than woman's wonder and worth?

But where life is to be lit on,

Fricka (to Wotan).

See what traitorous knave thou didst trust!

Froh.

Loge art thou, but liar I call thee!

Donner.

Accursed flame, I will quench thy glow!

Loge.

Their disgrace to cover, fools now revile me!

(DONNER and FROH threaten to strike LOGE.)

Wotan (steps between them).

In quiet leave now my friend!

Ye know not Loge's craft:

richer count I his counsel's worth,

when 'tis haltingly paid.

Fafner.

Halt no longer! Promptly pay!

Fasolt.

Long waiteth our wage!

Wotan (turns sharply to Loge).

Now hear, crabbed one! keep thy word!

Say truly, where hast thou strayed?

Loge.

Thankless was ever Loge's toil !

In care but for thee, looked I around

and restlessly searched

to the ends of the world,

to find a ransom for Freia,

fit for the giants and fair.

In vain sought I, and see now full well,

in the world's wide ring nought is so rich

that a man will take it as price

for woman's worth and delight!

(All show astonishment and perplexity.)

Where life ever is moving,

in water, earth and air,

much sought I, asking of all men,

where force doth but stir and life hath beginning:

what among men more mighty seems

than woman's worth and delight?

But where life ever is moving,

At this critical moment Wotan sees his cunning adviser, Loge,

approaching, and we hear the characteristic motives of the

LOGE MOTIVE, coupled with the MAGIC FIRE MOTIVE. They

are heard throughout the ensuing scene, in which Wotan

upbraids Loge for not having discovered something which the

Giants would be willing to accept as a substitute for Freia.

Loge says he has traveled the world over without finding aught

that would compensate man for the renunciation of a lovely

woman. At this point is heard the Motive of Renunciation.

Then follows Loge‘s narrative of his wanderings. With great

cunning he intends to tell Wotan of the theft of the Rhinegold

and of the wondrous worth of a ring shaped from the gold in

order to incite the listening Giants to ask for it as a

compensation for giving up Freia. Hence Wagner, as Loge

begins his narrative, has blended, with a marvelous sense of

musical beauty and dramatic fitness, two phrases: the Freia

Motive and the accompaniment to the Rhine daughters‘ shout

of triumph in the first scene. Whoever will turn to the vocal-

piano score, will find the Freia Motive in the treble and the

somewhat simplified accompaniment to the cry ―Rhinegold!‖

in the bass. This music continues until Loge says that he

discovered but one (namely, Alberich) who was willing to

renounce love. Then the Rhinegold Motive is sounded tristly

in a minor key, and immediately afterward is heard the Motive

of Renunciation. (1)

The Spirit of Hypocrisy now steps in to the aid of the troubled deities. This is Loge, the Fire-element, the Norse Loki. In the Edda, as in the Nibelung’s Ring, he appears as an embodiment of evil, a liar and a mocker, the Mephistopheles of Northern mythology. There, as here, he is represented as the sometime associate of the Gods, afterwards confined by them in punishment for his treachery and maleficence; and as in the Völuspá he fares against the Aesir on the great day of their doom, so in the Götterdämmerung Walhall, with its host of deities and heroes, is finally consumed in Loge’s flames. It is by Loge’s counsel that Wotan has made the evil compact with the

giants, and it is under his guidance that the Gods, having once

set their feet on the downward path, proceed thereon with fatal

celerity. Sent to search the earth for aught that may be offered

to Fafner and Fasolt in place of Freia, as of greater value than

love and beauty, he narrate the story of Alberich‘s theft of the

gold, and instills into the minds of Gods and giants a lust for

the delusive treasures of the Nibelung. (3)

And then finally, finally, comes in sight Loge. Wotan lets out his breath in relief: "Loge at last!" The music has introduced Loge by a note-painting as of fire climbing up swiftly through airiest fuel. There is a quick flash or two, like darting tongues of flame. A combination of swirling and bickering and pulsating composes the commonest Loge-motif, but the variety is endless of the fire's caprices. Fantastical, cheery, and light it is mostly, sinister sometimes, suggestive of treachery, but terrible never; its beauty rather than its terror is reproduced. So characteristic are the fire-motifs that after a single hearing a person instinctively when one occurs looks for some sign or suggestion of Loge.

to scorn I was laughed for my questioning skill;

in water, earth, and wind,

nothing will loose from woman and love.

But one I learned of

at last who had warred on love;

for gleaming gold from woman he widely goes.

The Rhine's bemoaning children

chattered to me their wrong;

the Nibelung, Night-Alberich,

bade them in vain bend to his voice in their bath;

the Rhinegold then

and there from the river he rent;

he holds its glance his holiest good,

and greater than woman's worth.

For the flickering toy, so torn from the flood,

they sounded their tale of sorrow;

thy side, Wotan, soon they will seek;

thou wilt rightly see to the robber,

its wealth again wilt give the water,

and sink it away into safety.

Such are the tidings I said I would take thee;

so Loge told them no lie.

WOTAN.

Wanton thou art,

or else bewildered!

Myself see'st thou in need;

what help is now in my hands?

FASOLT (who has carefully listened, to Fafner).

The gold from the dwarf should be guarded,

much wrong he has done us already;

but slyly always slipped he

out of reach of our wrath.

FAFNER.

Harm anew

the Niblung will hatch us,

now that the gold he has got.

Swiftly, Loge, say without lies,

what good is known of the gold,

that the Niblung sought it so?

LOGE.

A lump was it

below the water,

children to laughter it charmed :

but when to a ring

it rightly is welded,

it helps to highest might

and wins its master the world.

still scorned alone was my questioning craft:

in water, earth and air,

none will forego the joy of love—

But one I looked on

who love's delights forswore;

for ruddy gold renouncing all woman's grace—

The Rhine's fair winsome children

told to me all their woe:

the Nibelung, Night-Alberich,

seeking in vain grace from the swimmers to win;

the Rhinegold the robber

then stole in revenge:

he deems it now the holiest good,

greater than woman's grace.

For the glittering dross, so reft from the deep,

resounded the maidens' wailing :

to thee, Wotan, turning their prayers

that thy vengeance fall on the Niblung,

the gold they pray thee now to give them

to shine in the water for ever.

This to tell thee I promised the maidens:

and now has Loge kept faith.

Wotan.

Foolish art thou,

if not e'en knavish!

Myself seest thou in need:

what help for others have I?

Fasolt (who has listened attentively, to Fafner).

The gold I begrudge the Niblung;

much ill he ever has wrought us,

but slyly still the dwarf

has slipped away from our hands.

Fafner.

Still the Niblung

broods on new ill

if gold but grant him power. —

Listen Loge! say without lie:

what glory lies in the gold

which the Niblung holds so dear?

Loge.

A toy 'tis

in the waters sleeping,

serving for children's delight;

but if to a rounded

ring it be fashioned,

measureless might it grants

and wins the world for its lord.

Now Loge, who had been tamed by the conquering spear, hated his tamer. He craved back his liberty, and, as the Norn tells us later in “Goetterdaemmerung,” "tried to free himself by gnawing at the runes on the shaft of the spear." He gave counsel to Wotan which followed must create difficulties from which the god could deliver himself only by an injustice; and this injustice Loge seems clearly to have recognised from the first as the beginning of the end of the strength of the gods. The subtle Loge is more widely awake than Wotan to the "power not ourselves which makes for righteousness." He counselled him to buy the giants' labor by the promise of Freia, knowing that the gods could never endure to let the amiable goddess go. He led them to believe that when the time came he would give them further counsel by which to retain her. And his word Wotan chose to trust, and gave his heart over to the untroubled enjoyment of his plans' completion. (4) Loge recites his long search for a ransom for Freia—

something that man will take as a substitute for woman’s love,

―her worth and delights.‖ Now for the first time we hear

Freia’s Motive, the motive of eternal youth, as its full value.

Several motives reappear in the course of this recital; the

Rhine Gold, Praise of the Rhine Gold, the Rhine Maidens, the

Ring, Loge, and Renunciation (upon which he seems to harp

with special pleasure). He rouses everybody’s cupidity, the

Giants, Wotan’s, Fricka’s; and in explaining the work of the

dwarfs in thrall to Alberich, he brings up the Smithy Motive,

but in a reversed rhythm, later to appear in its proper form.(2)

Loge next tells how Alberich stole the gold. All through this

portion of the narrative are heard, in the accompaniment,

reminiscences of the motives of the first scene. It should be

noticed that when Loge gives Wotan the message of the

Rhine-Daughters, that the chief of the gods wrest the gold

from Alberich and restore it to them, the Rhinegold Motive

rings out brilliantly in a major key. Loge has already excited

the curiosity of the Giants, and when Fafner asks him what

power Alberich will gain through the possession of the gold,

he dwells upon the magical attributes of the ring shaped from

Rhinegold. As Wotan ponders over Loge‘s words the Ring

Motive is heard, for Wotan is planning how he may possess

himself of the ring.

With true knowledge of human, and especially of feminine

nature, Wagner makes Fricka ask if articles of jewelry could

be made of gold. As Loge tells her that the possession of the

ring will insure Wotan‘s fidelity to her and that Alberich‘s

Nibelungs are at that moment forging a ring of the Rhinegold,

he sings the Fricka Motive (Fricka being the guardian of

marriage-fidelity), while when he refers to the Nibelungs there

is heard for the first time the Nibelung Motive. Wotan is

evidently strongly bent on wresting the gold from Alberich and

retaining it in his own possession instead of restoring it to the

Rhine-Daughters, for, as he stands wrapt in meditation, the

Rhinegold Motive is heard in a minor key, and as he asks Loge

how he may shape the gold into a ring we have the Ring

WOTAN.

Of the Rhinegold were already whispers;

runes of booty abide in its ruddy blaze.

Might and riches

would make without measure a ring.

FRICKA.

Would not as well the golden wealth

be worn with its gleam

by women for shining show?

LOGE.

A wile might force her husband to faith,

held she in hand the sparkling heaps

that spring from hurrying hammers

raised at the spell of the ring.

FRICKA.

My husband will get the gold to him here ?

WOTAN.

The hoop to have with me

hold I wholly for wisdom.

But hark, Loge, how shall I learn

the means that let it be made?

LOGE.

By spell of runes is wrought the speeding ring;

none has known it;

yet each can wield its aid,

who weans from love his life.

(Wotan turns away with disgust.)

Thy loss were ill, and late moreover;

Alberich lingered not off;

swiftly he severed the wonder's seal;

and rightly welded the ring.

DONNER.

Ill would dwell for us all in the dwarf,

if long we the ring were to leave him.

WOTAN.

The robber must lose it!

FROH.

Lightly lo without curse of love will it come.

LOGE

Gladly as laughter,

without pain in a game of play!

Wotan.

Rumours came to me of the Rhinegold:

runes of booty hide in its ruddy glow;

might and wealth

unmeasured a ring would gain.

Fricka.

Serves as well the golden trinket's

glittering dross

to deck forth a woman's grace?

Loge.

Her husband's faith were fixed by the wife

who ever bore the glist'ning charm

that busy dwarfs are forging

toiling in thrall to the ring.

Fricka.

O, might but my husband win him the gold?

Wotan.

Methinks it were wise now

sway o'er the ring to ensure me. —

But say Loge, what is the art

by which the trinket is shaped?

Loge.

A rune of magic makes the gold a ring ;

no one knows it;

but he can use the spell

who blessed love forswears.

(WOTAN turns away in ill-humour.)

That likes thee not; too late, too, cam'st thou:

Alberich did not delay.

Fearless the might of the spell he won;

and rightly wrought was the ring!

Donner.

Slaves should we be all to the dwarf,

were not the ring from him wrested.

Wotan.

The ring I must win me!

Froh.

Lightly now without curse of love were it won.

Loge.

Right well,

without art, as in children's play!

Motive. Loge tells Wotan that Alberich has abjured love and

already forged the ring. Here the Motive of Renunciation is

sounded with a harsh power expressive of Alberich‘s tyranny,

which we are soon to witness. (1)

He stands now upon the rock, a vivid, charming, disquieting apparition, with his wild red hair and fluttering scarlet cloak. The arch-hypocrite wears always a consummately artless air. He comes near winning us by a bright perfect good-humour, which is as of the quality of an intelligence without a heart. The love of mischief for its own sake, which is one of his chief traits, might be thought to account easily for his many enemies. He is related to the gods, a half-god, but is regarded coldly by his kin. Wotan is his single friend in the family, and with Wotan he preserves the attitude of a self-acknowledged underling. He stands in fear of his immediate strength, while nourishing a hardly disguised contempt for his wit, as well as that of his cousins collectively. A secret hater of them all, and clear-minded in estimating them. A touch of Mephistophelian there is in the pleasure which he seems to find in the contemplation of the canker-spot in Wotan's nature, drawing from the god over and over again, as if the admission refreshed him, that he has no intention of dealing justly toward the Rhine-maidens. "Is this your manner of hastening to set aright the evil bargain concluded by you?" Wotan chides, as he appears from the valley. "How? What bargain concluded by me?..." Pinned down to accounting for himself, "I promised," he says, "to think over the matter, and try to find means of loosing you from the bargain.... But how should I have promised to perform the impossible?" Under the pressure of all their angers, he finally airily delivers himself: "Having at heart to help you, I travelled the world over, visiting its most recondite corners, in search of such a substitute for Freia as might be found acceptable to the giants. Vainly I sought, and now at last I plainly see that nothing upon this earth is so precious that it can take the place in man's affection of the loveliness and worth of woman." Struck and uplifted by this thought, the gods, moved, look in one another's faces, and the music expresses the sweet expansion of the heart overflowing with thoughts of beauty and love. It is one of the memorable moments of the Prologue. "Everywhere," proceeds Loge, "far as life reaches, in water, earth, and air, wherever is quickening of germs and stirring of nature's forces, I investigated and inquired what there might be in existence that a man should hold dearer than woman's beauty and worth? Everywhere my inquiry was met with derision. No creature, in water, earth, or air, is willing to renounce love and woman." As he pauses, the gods again gaze at one another, with tender tearful smiles, in an exalted emotion over the recognition of this touching truth; and the music re-expresses that blissful expansion of the heart.

WOTAN.

But hear me, how?

LOGE.

By theft! What a thief stole

thou steal'st from the thief;

could gain be more thankfully got?

But with artful foil fences Alberich ;

brisk and sly be in the business,

call'st thou the robber to claim,

that the river's maidens their ruddy mate,

the gold, back may be given;

for so as I said they will beg.

WOTAN.

The river's maidens? What mean they to me?

FRICKA.

Of the trickling breed bring me no tidings;

for many men,

with loss to me already they reft from the light.

(Wotan stands in silent conflict with himself; the other

gods, in speechless anxiety, fix their eyes on him.

Meanwhile, Fafner, aside, has consulted with Fasolt.)

FAFNER.

Mark that more than Freia

fits us the glittering gold;

and endless youth is as good,

though by spell of gold it be got.

(They come near again.)

Hear, Wotan, A word while we halt!

Live with Freia in freedom;

lighter rate find I of ransom;

for greedless giants enough

is the Nibelung's ready gold.

WOTAN.

Wander your wits?

What is not my wealth,

to askers like you can I yield?

FAFNER.

Long work uplifted thy walls;

light were it, by warier ways

than our hatred happened to know,

to fetter the Niblung fast

Wotan.

Then counsel, how?

Loge.

By theft! What a thief stole,

steal thou from the thief:

couldst better gain aught for thine own?

But with weapons dire fighteth Alberich;

deep and shrewd must be thy working,

if the thief thou wouldst o'erreach,

so that thou may'st render the ruddy dross,

the gold once more to the maidens,

for therefor pray they to thee.

Wotan.

The river maidens? What boots me that rede?

Fricka.

Of the watery brood let nought be spoken;

to my distress,

many a man they lured to their watery lair.

WOTAN stands silently struggling with himself. The other

gods fix their eyes on him in mute suspense. — Meanwhile

FAFNER has been conferring aside with FASOLT.

Fafner.

Trust me, more than Freia

boots the glittering gold:

and endless youth would be won

if the golden charm were our own.

(FAFNER and FASOLT approach WOTAN again.)

Hear, Wotan, our word as we wait!

Free with you leave we Freia;

guerdon less great shall content us:

for us rude giants

enough were Nibelheims's ruddy gold.

Wotan.

Are ye distraught?

What is not mine own,

how can I, ye shameless ones, grant you?

Fafner.

Hard labour built yonder walls:

light were't for thy cunning and force

(what our spite e'er failed to achieve)

to fetter the Niblung fast.

"Only one did I see," Loge says further—the light fading out of the music—"who had renounced love; for red gold he had forsworn the favor of woman." He relates Alberich's theft of the gold, as it had been told him by the Rhine-daughters, who had made him their advocate with Wotan, to procure its restitution. But their plea meets with a deaf ear. "You are stupid, indeed, if not perverse," the god answers Loge, when he delivers their appeal. "You find me in straits myself, how should I help others?" (4)

Loge‘s diplomacy is beginning to bear results. Fafner tells

Fasolt that he deems the possession of the gold more important

than Freia. Notice here how the Freia motive, so prominent

when the Giants insisted on her as their compensation, is

relegated to the bass, and how the Rhinegold Motive breaks in

upon the Motive of Eternal Youth as Fafner and Fasolt again

advance toward Wotan, for they now request Wotan to wrest

the gold from Alberich and give it to them as ransom for Freia.

Wotan refuses, and the Giants, having proclaimed that they

will give Wotan until evening to determine upon his course,

seize Freia and drag her away. Here the music is highly

descriptive. Pallor settles upon the faces of the gods; they seem

to have grown older. Alas, they are already affected by the

absence of Freia, the Goddess of Youth, whose motives are but

palely reflected by the orchestra, as Loge, with cunning alarm,

explains the cause of the gods‘ distress; until Wotan proclaims

that he will go with Loge to Nibelheim. (1)

The giants have been listening to this talk about Alberich, an ancient enemy of theirs. The cleverer brother asks Loge, "What great advantage is involved in the possession of the gold, that the Nibelung should find it all-sufficient?" Loge explains. There drift back to Wotan's memory runes of the Ring, and the thought readily arises that it would be well he possessed the ring himself. "But how, Loge, should I learn the art to shape it?" At the reply that he who would practise the magic by which it could be shaped must renounce love, the god turns away in conclusive disrelish. Loge informs him that he would in any case have been too late: Alberich has already successfully forged the ring. This alters the face of things. "But if he possesses a ring of such power," says simple Donner, "it must be taken from him, lest he bring us all under its compulsion!" Wotan hesitates no more. "The ring I must have!" "Yes, now, as long as love need not be renounced, it will be easy to obtain it," says simple Froh. "Easy as mocking—child's-play!" sneers Loge. "Then do you tell us, how?..." Wotan's fine majestic simplicity has no false pride.

WOTAN.

For such now to seize on the Niblung?

For such fight with the foe ?

Unabashed and overbearing

I think you under my thanks !

FASOLT

(suddenly seizes Freia and takes her with Fafner aside).

To me, Maid! For home we make!

In pledge rest for our toil,

till thy ransom is paid.

(Freia shrieks; all the gods are in the greatest alarm.)

FAFNER.

Fast along let her be led!

Till evening hear me out

her we pin as a pledge;

we back will bring her;

but if it be that we find ready no ransom

of Rhinegold fit and red

FASOLT.

We wrangle no further,

Freia, as forfeit, for ever follows us off!

FREIA.

Sister! Brother! Save me, both!

(The giants hurriedly drag her off: the troubled gods hear

her cries of distress die away in the distance.)

FROH.

Up, to her aid!

DONNER.

Bar me not any!

(They question Wotan -with their looks.)

LOGE (looking after the giants).

Over stump and stone they heave

hence like a storm;

through the river's forded reach

fiercely they flounder;

Freia seems far from sweetly

to sit the shape of their shoulders!

Heia! Hei! How bluster the blockheads along!

In the land hang not their heels;

nought but Riesenheim's bound

now will bring them to rest!

Wotan.

For you shall I deal with the Niblung?

for you fetter the foe?

Insolent and greedy, ye dullards,

are ye made by my debt!

Fasolt (suddenly seizes FREIA and draws her with

FAFNER to the side).

To us, maid! We claim thee now!

As pledge stay thou with us

till thy ransom be paid!

(FREIA screaming.)

Fafner.

Far from here let her be borne!

Till evening, heed me well!

held is she as a pledge;

at night return we;

but when we come, if at hand lie not the ransom,

the Rhinegold fair and red —

Fasolt.

At end is her shrift then,

Freia is forfeit: for ever dwell she with us!

Freia.

Sister! Brothers! Save mel Help!

(She is borne away by the hastily retreating giants.)

Froh.

Up, to her aid!

Donner.

Perish then, all things!

(They look at WOTAN enquiringly.)

Loge (looking after the giants).

Over stock and stone they stride

down to the vale:

through the water heavily

wade now the giants.

Sad at heart hangs Freia,

so roughly borne on their shoulders! —

Heia ! hei I the churls, how they lumber along!

Now they tramp up through the vale.

First at Riesenheim's bound

their rest will they take.

The Serpent gleefully replies, "By theft! What a thief stole, you steal from the thief! Could anything be easier? Only, Alberich is on his guard, you will have to proceed craftily if you would overreach the robber... in order to return their treasure to the Rhine-daughters, who earnestly entreat you." "The Rhine-daughters?" chafes Wotan. "What do you trouble me with them?" And the goddess of Wisdom,—more sympathetic on the whole in this exhibition of weakness than in her hard justice later—exposing the core of her feminine being, breaks in: "I wish to hear nothing whatever of that watery brood. Many a man, greatly to my vexation, have they lured under while he was bathing, with promises of love." The giants have been listening and have taken counsel together. Fafner now approaches Wotan. "Hear, Wotan.... Keep Freia.... We have fixed upon a lesser reward. We will take in her stead the Nibelung's gold." Wotan comes near losing his temper. "What I do not own, I shall bestow upon you shameless louts?" Fafner expresses a perfect confidence in Wotan's equipment for obtaining the gold."For you I shall go to this trouble?" rails the irritated god, "For you I shall circumvent this enemy? Out of all measure impudent and rapacious my gratitude has made you clowns!..." Fasolt who has only half-heartedly accepted his brother's decision in favor of the gold, stays to hear no more, but seizes Freia. With a warning that she shall be regarded as a hostage till evening, but that if when they return the Rhinegold is not on the spot as her ransom, they will keep her forever, the giants hurry her off. Her cry for help rings back. Her brothers, in the act of rushing to the rescue, look at Wotan for his sanction. No encouragement is to be gathered from his face. He stands motionless, steeped in perplexity, in conflict with himself. Loge has now a few moments' pure enjoyment in safely tormenting his superiors. He stands, with his fresh, ingenuous air, on a point overlooking the valley, and describes the giants' progress, as does the music, too. "Not happy is Freia, hanging on the back of the rough ones as they wade through the Rhine...." Her dejected kindred wince. The heavy footsteps die away. Loge returning his attention to the gods, voices his amazement at the sight which meets him: "Am I deceived by a mist? Am I misled by a dream? How wan and fearful and faded you do look! The glow is dead in your cheeks, the lightening quenched in your glances. Froh, it is still early morning! Donner, you are dropping your hammer! What ails Fricka? Is it chagrin to see the greyness of age creeping over Wotan?" Sounds of woe burst from all, save Wotan, who with his eyes on the ground still stands absorbed in gloomy musing.

(He turns to the gods.)

Why left is Wotan so wild?

How goes the luck of the gods?

(A pale mist with increasing thickness fills the stage; in it

the gods soon put on a look of growing whiteness and age;

all stand looking with trouble and expectation at Wotan, -

who fixes his eyes on the ground in thought. )

LOGE.

Mocks me a dream, or drowns me a mist?

How sick and sad you suddenly seem!

In your cheeks the light is checked;

the cheer of your eyes is at end!

Up, my Froh, yet early it is!

In thy hand, Donner, what deadens the hammer?

Why grieved is Fricka?

Greets she so faintly the grayness Wotan has got,

to warn him all must be old?

FRICKA.

Sorrow! Sorrow! Why are we so?

DONNER.

My hand is stayed.

FROH.

My heart is still.

LOGE.

Behold it! Hark what has happened!

On Freia's fruit I doubt if you feasted to-day ;

the golden apples out of her garden

have yielded you dower of youth,

ate you them every day.

The garden's feeder in forfeit is guarded;

on the branches frets and browns the fruit

and rots right to its fall.

My need is milder; to me never Freia has given

gladly the fostering food;

for barely half so whole I was bred as you here!

But your welfare you fixed

on the work of the fruit,

and well were the giants ware;

a trap they laid to tangle your life,

which look how to uphold!

Without the apples, old and hoar

hoarse and helpless

worth not a dread to the world,

the dying gods must grow.

(He turns to the gods.)

How darkly Wotan doth brood?

Alack, what aileth the gods?

A pale mist fills the stage, gradually growing denser. In it

the god's appearance becomes increasingly wan and aged.

All stand in dismay and expectation looking at Wotan, who

fixes his eyes on the ground in thought.

Loge.

Mists, do ye trick me? mocks me a dream?

Dismayed and wan ye wither so soon!

From your cheeks the bloom dies out;

and quenched is the light of your eyes! —

Courage Froh! day is at dawn! —

From thy hand, Donner, escapeth the hammer!

What grief hath Fricka?

is she in sorrow for Wotan, gloomy and grey,

who seems already grown old?

Fricka.

Woe's me! Woe's me! What has befall'n?

Donner.

My hand doth sink!

Froh.

My heart stands still!

Loge.

I see now! hear what ye lack!

Of Freia's fruit not yet have ye eaten to-day.

The golden apples that grow in her garden

have made you all doughty and young,

ate ye them day by day.

The garden's keeper in pledge now is granted;

on the branches droops and dies the fruit,

decayed soon it will fall.

It irks me little; for meanly ever Freia to me

stinted the sweet tasting fruit:

but half as godlike am I, ye great ones, as you!

But ye set your fortune

on the youth-giving fruit:

that wotted the giants well;

and at your lives this blow now is aimed:

to save them be your care!

Lacking the apples old and grey,

worn and weary, withered,

the scoff of the world,

dies out the godly race.

The solution of the puzzle suddenly, as he feigns, flashes upon Loge: This is the result of Freia's leaving them! They had not yet that morning tasted her apples. Now, of necessity, those golden apples of youth in her garden, which she alone could cultivate, will decay and drop. "Myself," he says, "I shall be less inconvenienced than you, because she was ever grudging to me of the exquisite fruit, for I am only half of as good lineage as you, Resplendent Ones. On the other hand, you depended wholly upon the rejuvenating apples; the giants knew that and are plainly practising against your lives. Now bethink yourselves how to provide against this. Without the apples, old and grey, a mock to the whole world, the dynasty of the gods must perish!" With sudden resolution, Wotan starts from his dark study. "Up, Loge! Down with me to Nibelheim! I will conquer the gold!" "The Rhine-daughters, then," speaks wicked Loge, "may look to have their prayer granted?" Wotan harshly silences him. "Be still, chatterer!... Freia the good, Freia must be ransomed!" Loge drops the subject and offers his services as guide. "Shall we descend through the Rhine?" The Rhine, with its infesting nymphs?... "Not through the Rhine!" says Wotan. "Then through the sulphur-cleft slip down with me!" And Loge vanishes down a cleft in the rock, through which Wotan, after bidding his family wait for him where they are until evening, follows. (4) Let us here permit ourselves a brief digression in order to consider the reverent and appreciative sympathy which Wagner displays for the faiths of mankind, as typified in Wotan. By these faiths are begotten and nourished the noblest thoughts of man, until, hardening at length within their self-imposed limits, they appear no longer as aids to the development, but as barriers to the expansion, of his mind. It is Wotan who, in conjunction with the all-knowing Earth-mother, Erda—may we say Religious Belief in concert with the Law of the Universe?—produces the race of Valkyries, in whom are symbolized all noble passions and emotions which elevate the soul. It is Wotan again who begets the Wälsungs, types of the heroic principle in man, by whom he is himself finally overcome, when his ways have wandered from truth, and Erda warns him no more. Here also I would indicate a passage, replete with significance, from the last act of Siegfried, wherein the poet gives clear expression to his belief that in our creeds lies hidden the germ of the highest, although they are unable to bring to perfection that which they have half unconsciously nurtured. Brünnhilde, the Spirit of divine Truth and Love, is made to say:— “by me alone was Wotan’s thought conceived. The thought that never I dared to name; which I did not think, but only felt; for which I fought, struggled and strove; for which I braved him who thought it; for which I suffered, punishment bound me, since I did not think it and only felt.” Wotan’s secret aim is, indeed, the redemption and purification of the human soul, but the freedom to accomplish it is denied him. It is Brünnhilde—Love—who “did not think it, and only felt,” by whom the conception of the God is fulfilled, though at last in opposition to his will. (3)

FRICKA.

Wotan! Husband! Where is thy hope?

Own that thy laughing lightness has ended

in wrong and wreck for all

WOTAN (starting up—with, sudden decision).

Up, Loge! And let us be off!

To Nibelheim now together!

At hazards I'll have the gold.

LOGE.

The Rhine-maidens moan for their rights

and may they not hope for thy hearing?

WOTAN (impetuously).

Tush, thou talker! Freia befriending

Freia rests for her ransom.

LOGE.

Fast as thou like let it befall;

right below nimbly

I lead through the Rhine.

WOTAN.

Not through the Rhine!

LOGE.

Then come to the brim

of the brimstone cleft,

and slip inside with me so!

(He goes first and. disappears sideways in a cleft, out of

which, immediately lows a sulphurous mist.)

WOTAN.

You others, halt till evening here;

for faded youth

the fresh'ner is yet to be found!

(He goes down after Loge into the cleft; the mist that rises

out of it spreads itself over the whole scene and quickly

fills it with a thick cloud. Already those who stay behind

have become invisible.)

DONNER.

Farewell, Wotan!

FROM.

Good luck! Good luck!

FRICKA.

O soon again be safe at my side!

Fricka.

Wotan, my lord! unhappy man!

See how thy laughing-lightness has brought us

all disgrace and shame!

Wotan (starting up with a sudden resolve).

Up, Loge! descend with me!

To Nibelheim go we together:

for I will win me the gold.

Loge.

The Rhinedaughters called upon thee:

ah, may they then hope for a hearing?

Wotan (violently).

Peace, thou babbler, Freia, the fair one,

Freia needs must be ransomed!

Loge.

At thy command, swiftly we go:

down the steeps shall we

make way through the Rhine?

Wotan.

Not through the Rhine!

Loge.

Then swing we ourselves

through the sulphur-cleft:

down yonder slip in with me!

He goes first and disappears at the side in a cleft from

which immediately afterwards a sulphurous vapour arises.

Wotan.

Ye others wait till evening here:

the golden ransom

to win back our youth will I gain!

He descends after Loge into the cleft. The sulphurous

vapour issuing therefrom spreads over the whole stage and

quickly fills it with thick clouds. Those remaining on it are

soon hidden.

Donner.

Fare thee well, Wotan!

Froh.

Good luck! Good luck!

Fricka.

O soon return to thy sorrowing wife!

17. The Nibelung Motive (Smithy Motive) Wotan having spurned the giants’ offer to take the gold instead

of Freia, they make off with her. A gloom comes upon the

scene and the gods begin to look old and wan, as the goddess

of youth is torn from them, and her motive is heard in

chromatic distortion. With Loge, Wotan starts off for

Nibelheim to gain the gold which the giants may be induced to

accept as a substitute for Freia. The scene changes behind a

black cloud, and we hear in the orchestra Loge’s flickering

motive, the motive of Renunciation, which suggests the fateful

outcome of Wotan’s plan; the motive of the Menial, leading

into the Flight Motive in dotted triple rhythm and into the Ring

Motive, also in triple rhythm—a rhythmic elaboration that has

prepared us for the Smithy Motive which now resounds, first in

the orchestra, in its proper form accompanied by the Rhine

Gold fanfare, then hammered furiously upon unseen anvils

behind the scene. With it the Flight Motive is combined, in the

bass. The hammering on the anvils gradually dies away; the

motive of the Menial becomes prominent; the whole merges

into the Ring Motive and the third scene, in Nibelheim, is

shown with Alberich belaboring the unfortunate Mime, above

the insistent repetition of the Menial’s Motive. (2)

Loge disappears down a crevice in the side of the rock. From it

a sulphurous vapor at once issues. When Wotan has followed

Loge into the cleft the vapor fills the stage and conceals the

remaining characters. The vapors thicken to a black cloud,

continually rising upward, until the rocky chasms are seen.

These have an upward motion, so that the stage appears to be

sinking deeper and deeper. During this transformation scene

there is an orchestral interlude. First is heard the Loge Motive,

four times interrupted by the Motive of Renunciation; the

Motive of Servitude is heard during four bars. Then, with a

molto vivace the orchestra dashes into the Motive of Flight.

Twice the Ring and Rhinegold motives are heard, the latter

appearing the second time with the typical NIBELUNG MOTIVE

expressive of the enslaved Nibelungs constantly working at the

forge. The motive accompanies for sixteen bars., during eight

of which the rhythm is emphasized by the anvils on the stage,

a broad expansion of the Flight Motive. Meanwhile from

various distant quarters ruddy gleams of light illumine the

chasms, and when the Flight Motive has died away, only the

increasing clangor of the smithies is heard from all directions.

Gladually the sound of the anvils grows fainter; and, as the

Ring Motive resounds like a shout of malicious triumph

(expressive of Alberich‘s malignant joy at his possession of

power), there is seen a subterranean cavern apparently of

illimitable depth, from which narrow shafts lead in all

directions. (1)

(The mist darkens till it becomes a perfectly black cloud,

which moves from below upwards: this changes itself into

a firm dark chasm of rock, that still moves in an upward

direction, so that it seems as if the stage were sinking

deeper and deeper into the earth.

SCENE III.

At length from different directions in the distance dawns a

dusky red light : a vast far-stretching

SUBTERRANEAN CAVERN.

becomes visible, which on all sides seems to issue in

narrow passages.

Alberich drags the shrieking Mime by the ear out of a side-

cleft.)

ALBERICH.

Hihi! Hihi! To me! To me!

Try not thy tricks!

Lustily now

look to be lashed,

find I not finished

fitly and well

at once the work that I fixed!

MIME (howling),

Oho! Oho! Oh! Oh!

Let me alone!

Ready it lies!

Rightfully wrought,

with sores and sweat

not to be named;

off with thy nail from my ear!

ALBERICH (loosing him).

Why saunter so long to let me see?

MIME.

It struck me something might still beseem it.

ALBERICH.

What stays to be settled?

MIME (confused) .

This . . . and that . . .

ALBERICH.

What "that and this"? Hither the whole!

The vapour thickens to a quite black cloud which rises

from below upwards; this then changes to a dark rocky

chasm which continues to rise so that the theatre seems to

be gradually sinking into the earth.

THIRD SCENE.

A ruddy glow shines from various places in the distance,

increasing clamour as from smithing is heard on all sides.

Anvils behind the scene. — The clang of the anvils dies

away.

A subterranean chasm appears, which fills the whole scene

and seems to open into narrow clefts on all sides.

ALBERICH drags the shrieking MIME from a side cleft.

Alberich.

Hehe! hehe! to me! to me!

mischievous imp!

Prettily pinched,

now shalt thou be,

if in a trice thou

forgest me not

the work as I did command.

Mime (howling).

Ohe! Ohe! Au! Au!

Let me alone!

Forged it is,

as thou did'st bid,

with moil and toil

all is now done:

take but thy nails from my ear!

Alberich (letting him go).

Why waitest thou then, and shew'st it not?

Mime.

I only faltered lest aught were failing.

Alberich.

What, then, was not finished?

Mime (embarassed).

Here — and there —

Alberich.

What here and there? Give me the thing!

Thick vapour pours forth from the sulphur-cleft, dimming and shortly blotting out the scene. We are travelling downward into the earth. A dull red glow gradually tinges the vapour. Sounds of diminutive hammers upon anvils become distinct. The orchestra takes up their suggestion and turns it into a simple monotonous strongly rhythmical air—never long silent in this scene—which comes to mean for us the little toiling Nibelungs, the cunning smiths. A great rocky subterranean cave running off on every side into rough shafts is at last clearly visible, lighted by the ruddy reflection of forge-fires. This is where Alberich reigns and by the power of the ring compels his enslaved brothers to labour for him. Renouncing love has not been good for the disposition of Alberich. It is not only the insatiable lust of gold and power now darkening the soul-face of the earlier fairly gentle-natured Nibelung, it is a savage gloating cruelty, bespeaking one unnaturally loveless; it is a sanguinary hatred, too, of all who still can love, of love itself, a thirst and determination to see it completely done away with in the world, exterminated—a sort of fallen angel's sin against the Holy Ghost. A state, beneath the incessant excitement of slave-driving and treasure-amassing, of inexpressible unhappiness, lightened by moments of huge exaltation in the sense of his new power. (4) The red glow of furnaces and the ringing of anvils distinguish the third scene as laid in the abode of the Dwarfs or Nibelungs. The Niflheim—Nibelheim, the home of mist or darkness—of the Edda is the subterranean domain of Hel, the Goddess of Death; a realm of gloom and sadness, inhabited by the souls of those whose unhappy fate has forbidden them to fall in battle, and thereby to deserve the joys of Walhall, and the companionship of Odin and the Aesir. In the Nibelungen Lied the land of the NIbelungs is a terrestrial region, populated, like other lands, by ordinary mortals, and the Nibelung Hoard is simply a vast treasure, the property of its King Nibelung, and guarded by his servant, Alberich the Dwarf. Now the dwarfs of the Edda are beings whose work it is to penetrate the hidden recesses of the earth, and to forge the metals contained therein. The treasure produced by them is the Nibelung’s Hoard, the measureless wealth preserved in a dark cavern by its owners, the Children of the Mist; and Wagner has therefore fairly identified these Nebelungs with the dwarfs, and given the name of Nibelheim to the subterranean home of the latter. Again, the dwarfs of the Edda belong to a class of elementary beings—the Elves—who are broadly divided into two kinds, Light-Elves and Dark-Elves or Dwarfs. Of the latter Wagner makes Alberich the ruler; his name Alberich, or Elberich, signifies simply King of the Elves, and is connected etymologically with a name well known to us—Shakespeare’s Oberon. The Light-Elves properly are the dwellers in Elfhome, the abode of the Sun-God Freyr (Froh). But as the entire Northern mythology, roughly speaking, is in some sense a record of the contest between light and darkness, Wagner has applied the appellation of Light-Elves to the whole race of the Gods, and in one passage speaks of Odin (Wotan) as their ruler by the name of Light-Alberich, in opposition to Black-Alberich, the King of the Black-Elves or Dwarfs (Siegfried, Act I, sc. 2).

(He seeks to seize him again by the ear: in fright Mime lets

fall a piece of metal-work that he held convulsively in his

hands. Alberich instantly ticks it up and examines it with

care.)

So thou rogue! See it is ready,

and finished as most fits to my mind!

So fancied the sot slyly to foil me,

and take the masterly toy that he made

only by help of a hint of my own?

Thoughtless and hasty thief!

(He puts the work as "Tarn-helm" on his head.)

The helm sets to my head;

see, if the wonder will work?

"Night and darkness, know me none!"

(His figure disappears; in his place a pillar of cloud is

seen.)

See'st thou me, brother?

MIME (looks wonderingly about).

What bars thee? I see thee no bit.

ALBERICH'S (voice),

Then feel me instead, thou standing fool!

Be weaned from thy stealthy whims!

(Mime screams and writhes under the strokes of a whip

whose fall is heard, without the -whip itself being visible.)

ALBERICH'S (voice, laughing).

Thanks, thou thinker,

for wise and thorough work. Hoho! Hoho!

Nibelungs all, kneel now to Alberich!

Everywhere waits he and watches his workmen;

rest and room are you bereft of;

now you must serve him

though not in your sight;

when he seems to be far he fully besets you;

under him all are for ever! Hoho! Hoho!

Lo he is near, the Nibelungs' lord!

(The pillar of cloud disappears towards the background;

Alberich's angry scolding is heard gradually farther and

farther off; from the lower clefts he is answered by howls

and cries, the sound of which by degrees dies out in the

further distance. Mime for pain has fallen to the ground;

his whimpering and groaning are heard by Wotan and

Loge who descend by a cleft from above.)

He tries to catch his ear again. MIME, in his terror, lets

fall a piece of metal work which he held convulsively in his

band. ALBERICH picks it up quickly and examines it

carefully.

See, thou rogue! All has been forged

as I gave my command, finished and fit.

Ah, would then the dolt cunningly trick me?

and keep the wonderful work for himself,

that my craft alone taught him to forge?

Known art thou, foolish thief?

(He places the "Tarnhelm" on his head.)

The helm fitteth the head:

now will the spell also speed?

"Night and darkness — Nowhere seen!"

(His form vanishes; in its place a column of mist is seen.)

Seest thou me, brother?

Mime (looks about him in astonishment).

Where art thou? I see thee not.

Alberich (invisible).

Then feel me instead, thou lazy rogue!

Take that for thy thievish thought!

(Mime writhes under the blows he receives, whose sound is

heard without the scourge being seen).

Alberich (laughing, invisible).

I thank thee, blockhead,

thy work is true and fit! Hoho! Hoho!

Nibelungs all, bow ye to Alberich!

Everywhere over you waits he and watches;

peace and rest now have departed;

aye must ye serve him,

unseen though he be;

unaware he is nigh ye still shall await him!

Thrall to him are ye for ever! Hoho! Hoho!

hear him, he nears: the Nibelungs' lord!

The column of vapour disappears in the background. The

sounds of ALBERICH's scolding become fainter in the

distance. — MIME cowers down in pain. — WOTAN and

LOGE come down from a cleft in the rock.

With Wagner, I believe, the Nibelungs are an embodiment of the entirely material and sensual part of humanity. By the virtue of the Ring, Alberich has become their prince, and at his bidding they “rifle the bowels of their mother Earth for treasures, better hid;” and forge therefrom, with unceasing labour, the baneful Hoard of the Nibelung. Or, leaving the language of mythology—by the power of selfishness the Spirit of Evil turns to its own ends every base and carnal instinct of human nature; while by the Hoard are symbolized the paltry objects of worldly covetousness, with special reference to the greed of gold. (3)

18. The Tarnhelm Motive

At the beginning of the third scene we hear again the measures

heard when Alberich chased the Rhine daughters. Alberich

enters from a side cleft, dragging after him the shrieking

Mime. The latter lets fall the helmet which Alberich at once

seizes. It is the tarnhelmet, made of Rhinegold, the wearing of

which enables the owner to become invisible or assume any

shape. As alberich closely examines it, the MOTIVE OF THE

TARNHELM its motive is heard. To test its power Alberich puts

it on and changes into a column of vapor. He asks Mime if he

is visible, and when Mime answers in the negative Alberich

cries out shrilly, ―Then feel me instead,‖ at the same time

making poor Mime writhe under the blows of a visible

scourge. Alberich then departs—still in the form of a vaporous

column—to announce to the Nibelungs that they are

henceforth his slavish subjects. Mime cowers down in fear and

pain. (1)

We find Alberich, when the cavern glimmers into sight, brutally handling his crumb of a gnome brother. Mime, like Alberich, wins some part of our heart on first acquaintance, which he later ceases to deserve; but in the case of Mime I think it is never wholly withdrawn, even when he is shown to be an unmitigated wretch; he is, to begin with, so little, and he has a funny, fetching twist or quaver in his voice, indicated by the notes themselves of his rather mean little sing-song melodies. Alberich's nominal reason for indulging his present passion for hurting—he is haling Mime by the ear—is that the latter is overslow with certain piece of work which, with minute instructions, he has been ordered to do. Mime, under pressure, produces the article, which he had in truth been trying to keep for his own, suspecting in it some mysterious value. It is the “Tarnhelm,” a curious cap of linked metal. Its uncanny character is confided to us even before we see it at work, by the motif which first appears with its appearance: a motif preparing for some unearthly manifestation the mind pricked to disquieted attention by the weirdness of the air. Alberich places it upon his head, utters a brief incantation, and disappears from sight. A column of vapour stands in his place. "Do you see me?" asks Alberich's disembodied voice. Mime looks around, astonished. "Where are you? I see you not!" "Then feel me!" cries the power-drunken tyrant, and Mime winces and cowers under blows from an unseen scourge, while Alberich's voice laughs. Out of measure exhilarated by his successful new device for ensuring diligence and inspiring fear, he storms out of hearing with the terrible

LOGE.

Nibelheim here;

through hindering film

what a sputter of fiery sparkles!

WOTAN.

Who groans so loud; what lies on the ground?

LOGE (bends down to Mime).

Who is the whimperer here?

MIME.

Oho! Oho! Oh! Oh!

LOGE.

Hi, Mime! merry dwarf!

What frets and forces thee down?

MIME.

Mind not the matter!

LOGE.

Such is my meaning; and more, behold;

help I have for thee, Mime!

MIME (raising himself a little).

Who sides with me?

I serve the mastering son of my mother,

who bound me safely in bonds.

LOGE.

But, Mime, to bind thee

what bred him the might?

MIME.

With evil wit welded Alberich,

of gold he wrung from the Rhine, a ring;

at its stubborn spell we stammer and stumble;

with it bridles he all

of us Nibelungs now to his bent.

Once in our forges freely we welded

gifts for our women, winningest gear;

neatly like Niblungs we toiled,

and laughed for love of the time.

Now hotly he works us

in holes and in hollows;

for him alone we hammer and live.

Through the golden ring

his greed can guess

what ore unhewn is withheld in the earth;

then straight we must strike it, grovel and stir it;

Loge.

Nibelheim here.

Through pallid vapours

there glisten bright sparks from the smithies.

Wotan.

One groans aloud: what lies on the ground?

Loge (bends over Mime).

Say, wherefore moanest thou here?

Mime.

Ohe! Ohe! Au! Au!

Loge.

Hei, Mime! merry dwarf!

What plagues and pinches thee so?

Mime.

Leave me in quiet!

Loge.

That will I surely, and more yet, hark!

help I promise thee, Mime.

Mime (he raises him with difficulty to his feet).

What help for me!

I must obey the behests of my brother,

who makes me bondsman to him.

Loge.

But, Mime, to bind thee,

what gave him the power?

Mime.

By evil craft moulded Alberich

from yellow gold of the Rhine a ring:

at its mighty spell we tremble in wonder;

by that now he enthralls us,

the Nibelungs' darksome host. —

Blithely we smiths once worked at our anvils,

forged for our women trinkets so fair.

delicate Nibelung toys:

we lightly laughed at our toil.

The wretch now compels us

to creep into caverns,

for him alone we ever must toil.

Through the ring of gold

his greed still descries

where'er new treasure lies hid in the clefts:

there must we all seek it, trace it and dig it,

words, "Nibelungs all, bow to Alberich!... He can now be everywhere at once, keeping watch over you. Rest and leisure are done and over with for you! For him you must labour.... His conquered slaves are you forever!" The moment of his overtaking the Nibelungs is indicated by their sudden distant outcry. (4)

As Alberich seizes the miraculous Tarnhelm, bestowing

invisibility, we hear the Tarnhelm Motive. Note its vague,

mysterious character, with its ending on the open fifth. We

hear Loge’s flickering chromatics, and know that the

adventurers from the upper world are approaching. They find

Mime moaning from his brother’s blows, and ask him what his

trouble is; and his reflections on the subject are accompanied

by the motive thereto appropriate. (2)

Wotan and Loge enter from one of the upper shafts. Mime tells

them how Alberich has become all-powerful through the ring

and the Tarnhelmet made of the Rhinegold. The motives

occurring in Mime‘s narrative are the Nibelung, Servitude and

Ring Motives, the latter in the terse, malignantly powerful

form in which it occurred just before the opening of the third

scene. (1)

The Tarn-helm—literally Helmet of Concealment, from an old German verb tarnen, to conceal—which Mime forges for Alberich, is used in our poem as an emblem of deceit. In the Eddas and the Volsunga Saga mention is made of a “helm of terror,” which Siegfried (Sigurd) discovered in Fafner’s hoard, after the slaying of the latter; but no further reference to it occurs. In the Nibelungen Lied, however, the Tarnkappe, or cloak of darkness, plays an important part. Here also it forms one of the treasures of the Nibelung’s Hoard which comes into the possession of Siegfried, and here, as in Wagner’s poem, it is employed by Siegfried in the winning of Brünnhilde for Gunther. It possesses the properties of rendering its wearer invisible, and of endowing him with twelve men’s strength. The Tarnhelm is a favourite subject of Aryan myth and legend. In the Iliad it appears as the helmet of Hades, wherewith Athena hides herself that she may take part, unseen, in the battle against Troy (Iliad, v., 845). Out of the dark nether world the “daughters three” of Hesperus procure it for Perseus, that by its aid he may overcome the dreadful Gorgon. And lastly, it is the cloud wherewith the Homeric Gods envelope their favourite heroes, the veil wherein Khriemhild, in the Heldenbuch, wraps her betrothed Siegfried, to withdraw them from the adverse fight. Already, then, we perceive in our poem the presence of three opposing principles. First, the Gods, representing the higher, or spiritual, development of human nature (I do not, of course, intend to suggest that in these Gods is embodied the height of spiritual wisdom, attainable only through their downfall; but the creeds of even the rudest people may be regarded as embodying so much of spiritual knowledge as the minds of men in that state are capable of.]; secondly, the Giants,—the element of mere ignorance; and thirdly, the Nibelungs, the lowest or sensual element, becoming actively pernicious under the influence of the Spirit of Evil,—Alberich. Then we have the Spirit of Deceit,—Loge, the pretended friend and actual

we smelt the booty and smite at the bars,

without room or rest,

to heap our ruler the hoard.

LOGE.

What laggard was latest under his lash?

MIME.

He looks on me, alas! without mercy;

a helm he wished heedfully welded;

he hinted well the way he would have it.

I marked in mind what boundless might

must be in the work, as I wove the brass;

so, hoped to save the helm for myself,

and in its force from Alberich's fetter be free

perhaps, yes perhaps,

outwit my unwearying header

with fetters to rise and befall him

the ring wrench from his finger

so that, then, such as I find him,

a master in me he might feel!

LOGE.

What let thy wisdom limp by the way?

MIME.

Ah, though the helm I had welded,

the wonder, that in it hides,

I read not aright how to hit!

Who bespoke the work,

and spoiled it away,

he led me to learn,

when truly too late,

what a trick lurked in the toy;

from my face he faded,

and blows, that from nowhere

known abounded, I bore.

For such, my unthoughtful self I thank!

(With cries, he rubs his back. The gods laugh.)

LOGE (to Wotan).

To seize, not light at least he seems.

WOTAN.

But the foe, ere fail thy wits, must fall.

MIME (struck with the laughter of the gods examines them

more carefully).

Who are you that stir me

so strongly for answers ?

to melt the booty, to forge him the gold,

with no peace nor rest

for him to heap up the hoard.

Loge.

Just now, then, an idler wakened his ire!

Mime.

Poor, Mime, ah! my fate was the hardest.

A helm of mail had I to forge him;

with care he gave commands for its making.

My wit conceived the mighty power

that lay in the work I had forged of steel;

the helm I fain had held for my own;

to use the spell to free me from Alberich's sway:

perchance — yes, perchance

the tyrant himself to o'ermaster

and place him by guile in my power;

the ring then had I ravished,

that, as a slave now I serve him,

in thrall he should then be to me!

Loge.

And wherefore, wise one, didst thou not thrive?

Mime.

Ah! though the work I fashioned,

the magic that lurks therein,

the magic I guessed not aright.

He who planned the work

which then he seized,

he taught me, alas,

— but now all too late —

what a spell lay in the helm.

From my sight he vanished;

but, lurking unseen,

sharp strokes he showered on me.

Such pay for my pains I, fool, did win!

(He rubs his back. WOTAN and LOGE laugh.)

Loge (to WOTAN).

Confess, not light will be our task.

Wotan.

But the foe will fall, if thou but help!

Mime

(observes the gods more attentively).

What mean all your questions?

who are ye then, strangers?

destroyer of each in turn, the giver of evil counsel to the higher powers, of capacity for active evil to the lower (in the deepest sense, sin is always a consequence of self-deception). It is the fire of Loge which heats the Devil’s furnaces, wherein at his bidding our baser impulses are ever forging the noxious and illusory temptations of the material world (see Loge’s address to Alberich, Rheingold, sc.3). It is Loge who enkindles in our higher nature the wasting flames of ambition and vain-glory, whereby the noblest expressions of human thought, the religious creeds of all ages—here symbolized in Wotan and the Gods—become gradually corrupted, until their vitality has perished, and they are ultimately consumed in the fire of their own self-deceit, to be replaced by a purer faith—the religion of Infinite Love. And finally, the Ring, by virtue of which all the evil is wrought, represents the perversion of the soul’s activity from universal to separate and selfish aims. It stands thus for selfishness, egoism, the beginning of all crime in the material world, and corresponds with Walhall, the emblem of selfish power and sovereignty, and the consequent seed of downfall in the spiritual world. Alberich’s tyrannical rule over the Nibelungs denotes the bitterness and restlessness of her dominion whose wages are Death. At the stage at which we have now arrived, the Gods already have obtained, by the aid of man’s ignorance, an undue supremacy, symbolized in the fortress Walhall. Undue, we will call it, because it is to be distinctly understood that the Gods are not here intended as types of the Eternal Verities, but only of those limited ideas of the motive powers of the universe which proceed from the human imagination; and therefore when they—when any religious creeds—commence to enclose themselves within the Walhall walls of dogmatism, and to impose these limitations upon the minds of their votaries—as what creeds do not?—the hours of their existence are already numbered, and the day of their doom is surely, if slowly, approaching. The loss of their freedom, the bond that binds them to ignorance, is their actual death-warrant, whatever temporary power and unreal splendor it may lend them. The “Runes of Bargain” in Wotan’s spear-shaft mark his present sovereignty at the price of ruin hereafter. (3)

Mime has been left crouching and whimpering on the rocky floor. Thus Wotan and Loge find him. Loge is in all the following scene Wotan's very active vizier, furnishing the invention and carrying out the stratagems. Wotan, except to the eye, takes the background and has little to say; but as the blue of his mantle and the fresh chaplet on his locks strike the eye refreshingly in the fire-reddened cave, so his voice, with echoes in it of the noble upper world, comes like gusts of sweet air. Loge sets the cowering dwarf on his feet and by artful questions gets the whole story from him of the ring and the Nibelungs' woe. About the Tarnhelm, too, Mime tells Loge. At the recollection of the stripes he has suffered, he rubs his back howling. The gods laugh. That gives Mime the idea that these strangers must be of the great. He is in his turn questioning them, when he hears Alberich's bullying voice approaching. He runs hither and thither in terror and calls to the strangers to look to themselves, Alberich is coming! Wotan quietly seats himself on a stone to await him. (4)

LOGE.

Friends to thy kin; we come to free

the Nibelungs forth from their need.

(Alberich' s scolding and beating approach again.)

MIME.

Heed to yourselves! He is at hand!

WOTAN.

We wait for him here.

(He seats himself quietly on a stone; Loge leans at his side.

Alberich, who has taken the tarn-helm from his head and

hung it in his girdle, with the swing of his whip drives

before him a crowd of Nibelungs upwards from the lower

hollow; they are laden with gold and silver treasure which,

under Alberich' s continued abuse and blame, they store all

in a pile and so heap to a hoard.)

ALBERICH.

To-wards! Away!

Hihi! Hoho! Lazy lot,

here aloft heighten the hoard!

Thou there! On high! Hinder not thus!

Harassing herd, down with it hither!

Am I to help you? All of it here!

(he suddenly sees Wotan and Loge)

Hi! Who beholds? What walks this way?

Mime! To me, rubbishing rogue!

Ply'st thou thy tongue

with the trespassing pair ?

Forth, thou failer!

Hence to thy forge and thy hammer!

(With strokes of his whip he drives Mime in among the

crowd of the Nibelungs.)

Hi! to your work!

Wontedly hasten! Lighten below!

From the greedy places pluck me the gold!

The whip shall dint you, dig you not well!

If listlessly Mime lets you be minded,

he hardly will shield

from my hand his shoulders;

that I lurk like a neighbour when nobody looks,

enough he lately has learned.

Linger you still? Loiter and stay?

Loge.

Friends to thee; from all their need

the Niblungen folk we shall free!

(MIME, on bearing ALBERICH's approach, shrinks back

frightened.)

Mime.

Look to yourselves; Alberich nears.

Wotan.

We wait for him here.

WOTAN seats himself quietly on a stone. — ALBERICH,

who has removed the Tarnhelm from his head and hung it

on his girdle, drives before him with brandished whip a

host of NIBLUNGS from the caverns below. They are laden

with gold and silver handiwork which, under Alberich's

continuous abuse and scolding, they heap together so as to

form a large pile.

Alberich.

Hither! Thither!

Hehe! Hoho! Lazy herd!

There in a heap pile up the hoard!

Thou there, go up! Wilt thou get on?

Indolent folk, down with the treasure!

Shall I, then, help you? Here with it all!

(He suddenly perceives WOTAN and LOGE.)

Hey! who is there? What guests are these? —

Mime, to me! Pestilent wretch!

Pratest thou here

with the vagabond pair?

Off, thou sluggard!

Back to thy smelting and smithing!

(He drives MIME with blows of his whip into the crowd of

the Niblungs.)

Hey! to your labour!

Get ye hence straightway! Quickly below!

From the new made shafts go get me the gold!

"Who slowly digs shall suffer the whip!

That no one be idle, Mime be surety,

or scarce shall he scape

from my scourge's lashes!

That I ev'rywhere wander when no one is ware,

that wots he, think I, full well!

Linger ye still? Loiter ye then?

19. Alberich’s Cry of Triumph

Then Alberich, who has taken off the tarnhelmet and hung it

from his girdle, is seen in the distance, driving a crowd of

Nibelungs before him from the caves below. They are laden

with gold and silver, which he forces them to pile up in one

place and so form a hoard. He suddenly perceives Wotan and

Loge. After abusing Mime for permitting strangers to enter

Nibelheim, he commands the Nibelungs to descend again into

the caverns in search of new treasure for him. They hesitate.

You hear the Ring Motive. Alberich draws the ring from his

finger, stretches it threateningly toward the Nibelungs and

commands them to obey the ring‘s master. The Nibelungs

disperse in headlong flight and with Mime rush back into the

cavernous recesses. (1)

Alberich enters, full of his triumph, and now certain of his

mastery over the race of dwarfs, expressed through the motive

of Alberich’s cry of Triumph, developed out of the Motive of

the Menial. The ensuing conversation with Loge and Wotan is

accompanied largely by Loge’s chromatic motive. (2)

Alberich enters driving before him with his scourge a whole army of little huddling, hurrying Nibelungs, groaning under the weight of great pieces of gold and silver smithwork, which, while he threatens and urges them, they heap in a duskily glimmering mound. In the fancy that they are not obeying fast or humbly enough, he takes the magic ring from his finger, kisses and lifts it commandingly over them, whereupon with cries of dismay they scramble away, scattering down the shafts, in feverish haste to be digging and delving. Heavy groans are in the music when it refers to the oppression of the Nibelungs; groans so tragic and seriously presented that they bring up the thought of other oppressions and killing labours than those of the Nibelungs. The music which later depicts the amassing of riches, indicates such horror of strain, such fatigue, such hopeless weariness of heart and soul, that the hearer must think with sharpened sympathy of all that part of humanity which represents the shoulder placed against the wheel. Alberich turns an angry eye upon the intruders: "What do you want?" It is then most especially that the calm notes of Wotan fall healingly upon the sense: They have heard tales of novel events in Nibelheim, of mighty wonders worked there by Alberich, and are come from curiosity to witness these. After this simple introduction from the greater personage, his light-foot, volatile, graceful minister takes Alberich in hand and practising confidently upon his intoxicated conceit of power, his pride in the cleverness which had contrived ring and wishing-cap, uses him like a puppet of which all the strings should be in his hand. Alberich recognises in Loge an old enemy. Loge's reply to Alberich's, "I know you well enough, you and your kind!" is perhaps, with its cheerful dancing flicker, his prettiest bit of self-description. "You know me, childish elf? Then, say, who am I, that you should be surly? In the cold hollow where you lay shivering, how would you have had light and cheering warmth, if Loge had never laughed for you?..." But Alberich seems to remember too many reasons for distrusting him. "I can now, however," he boasts, "defy you all!" and he calls to their notice the heaped riches—the “Hort”.(4)

(He draws his ring from his finger, kisses it, and stretches

it threateningly out.)

Shake in your harness,

you shameful herd;

fitly fear the ruling ring !

(With howling and crying, the Nibelungs, with Mime

among them, disperse and slip, in all directions, down into

the pits.)

ALBERICH

(fiercely approaching Wotan and Loge).

What hunt you here?

WOTAN.

From Nibelheim's hiding land

we lately in news have heard

of endless wonders worked under Alberich,

and greed to behold them

gained thee hither thy guests.

ALBERICH.

Your grudge you ran rather to glut;

such nimble guests I know well enough.

LOGE.

Know me indeed, drivelling dwarf?

What seems there, so to bark at, in sight?

When low in cowering cold thou lay'st,

who fetched thee light and fostering fire,

ere Loge laughed to thee first?

What for were thy hammer,

had I not heated thy forge?

Kinsman I count thee, and friend I became,

I think but faulty thy thanks!

ALBERICH.

For light-elves now is Loge's laughter,

and slippery love;

art thou fully their friend,

as once my own thou wert

ha ha! behold!

I fear no further their hate!

LOGE.

So me to hope in thou mean'st!

ALBERICH.

In thy falsehood freely, not in thy faith!

But at ease face I you all.

(He draws his ring from his finger, kisses it and stretches it

out threateningly.)

Tremble in terror,

ye vanquished host!

All obey he rings's great lord!

With howls and shrieks, the NIBLUNGS — among whom is

MIME — separate and slip into different clefts in all

directions.

Alberich

(looks long and suspiciously at WOTAN and LOGE).

What seek ye here?

Wotan.

Of Nibelheim's darksome land

strange tidings have reached our ears:

great the wonders worked here by Alberich;

on these now to feast us

greed has made us thy guests.

Alberich.

Led hither by envy ye came:

such gallant guests, believe, well I know!

Loge.

Know'st thou me well, ignorant imp?

Then say, who am I? why dost so bark?

In chilly caves when crouching thou lay'st,

where were thy light and comforting fire then,

had Loge not on thee laughed?

What boots thee thy forging,

were not thy forge lit by me?

Kin to thee am I and once was kind:

not warm, methinks, are thy thanks!

Alberich.

On light-elves laughs now Loge,

the crafty rogue?

Art thou, false one, their friend,

as my friend once thou wert?

Haha! I laugh!

from them, then, nought need I fear.

Loge.

Methinks, then, me mayst thou trust.

Alberich.

In thy untruth trust I, not in thy truth!

Undismayed now I defy you.

20. The Motive of the Rising Hoard

As Alberich boasts of his waxing store of gold wrought by the

Nibelungs, there is heard the Motive of the Rising Hoard, a

little further on appearing in a somewhat more developed

form. He mocks the life of the gods, ―who laugh and love,

lapped in gently wafting brezes,‖ and Freia’s Motive is heard,

and those of Renunciation, the Rising Hoard, and the motive of

the Rhine Gold. (2)

"But," remarks Wotan, "of what use is all that wealth in cheerless Nibelheim, where there is nothing to buy?" "Nibelheim," replies Alberich, "is good to furnish treasures and to keep them safe. But when they form a sufficient heap, I shall use them to make myself master of the world!" "And how, my good fellow, shall you accomplish this?" Alberich has apprehended in this guest one of the immortals,—which, taken into consideration a speech suggestive every time it resounds of calm heights and stately circumstances, is not strange. Alberich hates him, hates them all. This is his exposition of his plan: "You who, lapped in balmy airs, live, laugh, and love up there, with a golden fist I shall catch you all! Even as I renounced love, all that lives shall renounce it! Ensnared and netted in gold, you shall care for gold only! You immortal revellers, cradling yourselves on blissful heights in exquisite pastimes, you despise the black elf! Have a care!... For when you men have come to be the servants of my power, your sweetly adorned women, who would despise the dwarf's love, since he cannot hope for love, shall be forced to serve his pleasure. Ha ha! Do you hear? Have a care, have a care, I say, of the army of the night, when the riches of the Nibelungs once climb into the light!" Wotan, whose Olympian self-sufficiency is usually untroubled by what any mean other-person may say, at this cannot contain himself, but starting to his feet cries out a command for the blasphemous fool's annihilation! Before Alberich, however, has caught the words—his deafness perhaps it is which saves his life—Loge has called Wotan back to his reason. Practising on Alberich's not completely outlived simplicity, he by the ruse of feigning himself very stupid and greatly impressed by his cleverness, now induces him to show off for their greater amazement the power of the Tarnhelm, which it appears has not only the trick of making the wearer at will invisible, but of lending him whatever shape he may choose. Later we find that it has also the power to transport the wearer at pleasure to the ends of the earth in a moment of time. (4)

Alberich looks with mistrust upon Wotan and Loge. He asks

them what they seek in Nibelheim. Wotan tells him they have

heard reports of his extraordinary power and have come to

ascertain if they are true. After some parleying the Nibelung

points to the hoard, saying: ―It is the merest heap compared to

the mountain of treasure to which it shall rise.‖ Here appears

the RISING HOARD MOTIVE. Alberich boasts that the whole

world will come under his sway (you hear the Ring Motive),

that the gods who now laugh and love in the enjoyment of

youth and beauty will become subject to him (you hear the

LOGE.

Lofty mood has lent thee thy might;

great and grim thy strength has grown.

ALBERICH.

See'st thou the hoard

my sullen host set me on high ?

LOGE.

Such harvest I never have known.

ALBERICH.

A daylight's deed, of scanty deepness;

mighty measure must it end in hereafter.

WOTAN.

How helps thee now such a hoard

in hapless Nibelheim,

where nought for wealth can be won?

ALBERICH.

Goods to gather and hide when together,

helps me Nibelheim's night;

but from the hoard, in the hollow upheaped,

unheard of wonders I wait for;

the world with all

its wideness my own is for ever.

WOTAN.

To thy kindness how will it come?

ALBERICH.

Though in listless breezes' breadth

above me you live, laugh and love;

with golden fist

you gods I will fall on together!

As love no more to me belongs,

all that has breath must be without her;

though gold was your bane,

for gold you blindly shall grapple.

On sorrowless heights

in happy sway you hold yourselves;

and dark-elves

you look in their deepnesses down on;

Have heed! Have heed!

When first you men

have fall'n to my might,

shall your frisking women

who failed to be wooed,

though dead is love to the dwarf,

feed under force his delight.

Hahahaha!

Loge.

Courage high thy might doth confer;

grimly great waxes thy power!

Alberich.

See'st thou the hoard,

by my host heaped for me there?

Loge.

A goodlier never was seen.

Alberich.

It is to-day but scanty measure!

Proud and mighty shall the hoard be hereafter.

Wotan.

But what can boot thee the hoard,

in joyless Nibelheim,

where treasure nothing can buy?

Alberich.

Treasure to gather, and treasure to bury,

serves me Nibelheim's night.

But with the hoard that in caverns I hide

shall wonders be worked by the Niblung!

and by its might

the world as my own I shall win me!

Wotan.

How beginn'st thou that, then, good friend?

Alberich.

Lapped in gently wafting breezes

ye who now live, laugh and love:

with golden grasp,

ye godlike ones all shall be captured!

As love by me was once forsworn,

all that have life shall eke forswear it!

Enchanted by gold,

the greed for gold shall enslave you!

On glorious heights

abide ye in gladness, rocked in bliss;

the dark elves

ye disdain in your revels eternal!

Beware! Beware!

For first your men

shall bow to my might,

then your winsome women,

who my wooing despised,

shall yield to Alberich's force,

though love be his foe!

Hahahaha !

Freia Motive); for he has abjured love (you hear the Motive of

Renunciation). Hence, even the gods in Walhalls shall dread

him (you hear a variation of the Walhalla Motive), and he bids

them beware of the time when the night-begotten host of the

Nibelungs shall rise from Nibelheim into the realm of daylight

(you hear the Rhinegold Motive followed by the Walhalla

Motive, for it is through the power gained by the Rhinegold

that Alberich hopes to possess himself of Walhalla). (1)

In this introduction to the Trilogy we find ourselves at once transported to a world of mystery, a world in which neither the bodily nor the spiritual eye can at once see clearly, and we apprehend with difficulty alike the actions and the motives of those who dwell within it. Nor is this atmosphere of mystery other than fitting for the representation of a legend which finds its roots far back in the earliest period of man’s conscious thought and incomplete expression; and with which Wagner has thought well to interweave the early searchings of his race after eternal truths, shrouded by them in obscure mythological parables, and interpreted by him in accordance with that system of philosophic thought most in harmony with his genius. The object of the Rhine-Gold is to set forth, in accordance with the indications of the legend, such an account of the origin of the Treasure, and of the Ring which is its symbol, as shall explain its fatal power and render intelligible the curse which pursues all who, even innocently, possess it. Now, in all this mysterious story which has woven into itself so many varying threads of history and legend, there is no more mysterious element than the Treasure itself. Whence did it come? Who were its original possessors? Why does it exercise so baneful an influence? Of all the versions, the Volsunga-saga alone professes to answer these questions, and even here the evidence is incomplete, and we are perforce led to the conclusion that before the legend had been transcribed, probably before it reached its settled form, the origin of the Nibelungen Hoard had been forgotten. The ethical idea of which the legend is an expression is undoubtedly that of the evil influence of gold, which, according to old German mythology, was operative alike on gods and men. The golden age, the time of the innocence of the gods, was before they knew gold; before the creation of the dwarf-race, who wrought the precious metal out of the earth, and thus brought the lust of gold and the passions of greed and avarice into the world. This idea is deeply imbedded in German mythology, and has been expressed under varying forms, of which undoubtedly the myth of the Nibelungen Hoard was originally one; therefore when Wagner, in his drama, brings into sharp relief the fatal effects of the desire of gold, and yet triumphantly proclaims it less powerful and less enduring than love, he is but expressing a thought which, from the first, was a vital and integral part of the legend. Whence, then, came this gold, here represented as reft from, and returning to, the bosom of the waters? The versions of the legend give varying accounts; in the Volsunga-saga, as we see, it was originally the property of the dwarf, Andvari, a dweller in the waters, and is taken from him by Loke, who hands it over to

Hear you not how? Have heed!

Have heed of the night and her host,

when Niblungs heave up the hoard

from depth and dark into day!

WOTAN (vehemently).

The false, slandering fool!

ALBERICH.

What says he?

LOGE (stepping between them).

Thy senses see to!

(To Alberich.)

Who of wonder is empty,

that haps on Alberich's work?

If half thou would'st meet from the hoard

should come as means it thy cunning,

of all I must own thee most mighty;

for moon and stars

and the sun in the middle

would, like everything other,

work but under thy will.

But weighty holds it my wisdom,

that the hoard's upheavers

the Nibelungs' host

hold thee not in hate.

Thou hast raised fiercely a ring,

and fear rose on thy folk;

but say, in sleep a thief on thee slipped

and reft slily the ring,

in safety would ward thee thy wits?

ALBERICH.

The longest of head is Loge;

others holds he always unhinged;

if he were but wanted to help my work

for heavy thanks,

how high were his thievish heart!

The safening helm I hit on myself,

the heedfullest smith,

Mime, had it to hammer;

ably to alter whither I aim,

to be held for another,

helps me the helm;

neighbours see me not

when they search;

but everywhere am I,

unsighted by all.

So at my ease

I settle at even thy side,

my fond unslackening friend!

Hear ye my word? Beware!

Beware! of the hosts of the night,

when rises the Niblung hoard

from silent deeps to the day!

Wotan (violently).

Away, impious wretch!

Alberich.

What says he?

Loge (stepping between them).

Lose not thy senses!

(To ALBERICH.)

Who were not seized with wonder,

beholding Alberich's work?

If only thy craft can achieve

all thou dost hope of the treasure:

the mightiest then must I call thee,

for moon and stars

and the sun in his splendour,

could not then withstand thy power,

they too must be thy slaves.

Yet, well 'twould seem before all things

that the host of the Niblungs

who heap up thy hoard

should serve thee free from spite.

When thy hand held forth a ring,

then trembling cowered thy folk :

but, in thy sleep a thief might slink by

and steal slyly the ring —

how, crafty one, then wouldst thou speed?

Alberich.

The deepest one Loge deems him;

others takes he ever for fools:

that e'er I should need him,

and dearly pay for word and aid,

that fain would the thief now hear!

This covering helm myself I conceived;

the cunningest smith,

Mime, forced I to forge it:

swiftly to change me, into all shapes

at my will to transform me,

serves the helm.

None can see me,

though he may seek;

yet ev'ry-where am I,

though hidden from sight.

So, free from care

not even thy craft need I fear,

thou kind, provident friend!

Hreidmar, and Sigurd wins it from Hreidmar’s sons; the final destination of the Hoard, too, is the Rhine - thus it comes from, and returns to, the water. In the Thidrek-saga, on the other hand, there is no account of the original home of the Hoard; we learn casually that Sigfrid won it form the dragon; but how Regin, who is here the dragon, came into possession of it we are not told. Of the final fate of the Treasure we have an explicit account: it is hidden in a mountain-cave, where it remains concealed forever from the sight of men. When we come to the Nibelungen-lied, we find that the Treasure is originally brought forth from a cave, and that Siegfried wins it from two brothers, Schilbung and Nibelung, though we are not told how they became possessed of it; its final destination is again the Rhine. A popular version of the Siegfried story, the Siegfrieds-lied, gives a different but analogous account of the Treasure. Kriemhild has been carried off by a dragon and imprisoned in a cave on the Drachenfels; Siegfried slays, not only the dragon, but the giant Kuperan, who guards the mountain, and rescues the princess. Near at hand, in a cave, the dwarf Eugel and his brothers have hidden the Treasure of their father, Niblung, who died of grief when his mountain was captured by the giant. Siegfried finds the Treasure, and, thinking it the Hoard of the dragon, carries it off; but as Eugel has foretold that he shall have but a short life, he reflects that the gold will be of little use ot him, and when he comes to the Rhine he throws it into the waters. We have here four versions of the winning and the hiding of the Treasure; in one instance we find it comes from the water, in two from the earth (being found in a cave); the fourth, the Thidrek-saga, gives no explicit account of its home. The three first all agree in making its final resting-place the Rhine, but the Thidrek-saga again differs from them, and represents it as hidden in a cave, i.e. it returns to the earth, and not to the water. Now, in every case it is noticeable, that it is the version, either purely German in development, or avowedly based upon German tradition, which knows of the cave; the distinctively Northern variant only knows of the water. It is perfectly true that this Northern version as a whole is the more archaic in form, and more suggestive of the mythic character underlying the legend; but the original source is, as before said, German, and therefore, where the versions differ as decidedly as is here the case, it is necessary to examine more closely into the story before deciding that the Northern is, as a matter of course, the nearest to the original form. An inquiry as to who were the original owners of the Treasure is necessary before we can solve the difficulty; and here we find that, in three out of the four versions, a dwarf is closely connected with it. In the Volsunga-saga it is taken from Andvari, and is his rightful property; in the Nibelungen-lied it is guarded by Alberich as the servant, first of the Nibelung brothers, then of Seigfried; in the Siegfrieds-lied it is the property of Eugel and his brothers. Further, in two out of these three instances a giant is also connected with it; in the Nibelungen-lied twelve giants help the Nibelungs to defend the Hoard, and a giant assists Alberich to guard the Treasure for Siegfried. Though the Volsunga-saga mentions no giant, yet the description of Fafnir as “the greatest and

LOGE.

Life I have looked on, much have been led to,

but such a wonder not once I have seen.

The helm to believe in hardly I hasten;

if thou hast told me truly,

for thy might is there no measure.

ALBERICH.

Deem'st thou I lie and drivel like Loge?

LOGE.

Weight it with work,

or, dwarf, I must doubt thy word.

ALBERICH.

The blockhead with wind

of his wisdom will burst;

now grip thee thy grudge!

For say, in what kind of a shape

shall I come to thy sight?

LOGE.

The most to thy mind;

but dumb must make me the deed!

ALBERICH (has put on the helm).

"Wheeling worm wind and be with him!"

(He immediately disappears; in his place an enormous

snake is seen winding on the ground; it rears and stretches

its open jaws towards Wotan and Loge.)

LOGE (pretends to be seized with fear).

Oho! Oho!

Snap not so fiercely,

thou fearful snake!

Leave my life to me further!

WOTAN (laughs).

Right, Alberich!

Right, thou rascal!

How deftly waxed

the dwarf to the width of the worm!

(The snake disappears, and in its place Alberich

immediately is seen again in his real form)

ALBERICH.

How now! you doubters,

did I enough?

Loge.

Many wonders oft have I looked on,

but such a marvel ne'er met my eyes.

This work without equal, none would believe in;

couldst thou but work this wonder,

thy might then were unending!

Alberich.

Think'st thou I lie and boast me like Loge?

Loge.

Till it is proved

I trust not, dwarf, thy word.

Alberich.

Art puffed up with prudence,

fool, well nigh to bursting !

Then envy me now!

Command, and say in what shape

I shall presently stand?

Loge.

Be shaped as thou wilt;

but make me dumb with amaze!

Alberich (puts the Tarnhelm on his head).

"Dragon dread, wind thee and coil thee!"

He immediately disappears: in his place a huge serpent

writhes on the floor; it lifts its head and stretches its open

jaws toward WOTAN and LOGE.

Loge (pretends to be seized with terror).

Ohe! Ohe!

Terrible dragon,

oh, swallow me not!

Spare his life but to Loge!

Wotan (laughing).

Good, Alberich!

Good, thou rascal!

How quickly grew

the dwarf to the dragon so dread!

The dragon disappears and immediately ALBERICH is

seen in his place.

Alberich,

Hehe! ye doubters!

trust ye me now?

grimmest of Hreidmar’s sons, who would have all things according to his will,” is distinctly suggestive of his giant origin; and when Wagner in the drama represented him as a giant, he probably, as we shall see is often the case, instinctively reverted to the true form of the story. If we turn to Northern mythology, we shall find that dwarf and giant alike are closely connected with each other and with the earth; the world itself was said to be formed out of the flesh of the giant Ymir, the first father of the race; and according to the Edda the dwarfs were the maggots which bred in the flesh of the giant, and were endowed by the gods with the shape and mind of men; another account represents them as formed directly out of the earth. Their dwelling is in rocks and in the earth, and from it they make gold. It is, of course, true that the sea-dwellers, mermen and maidens and their kings, are also held to possess great treasures; but even there the gold is heaped up in caves, and belongs rather to the bed of the sea than the sea itself, to the earth rather than the water. On the whole, it seems more in accordance with the indications of the legend to believe that originally the home of the Nibelungen Hoard was a mountain-cave, and its owner a dwarf, who most probably entrusted the guardianship of the Treasure to a giant, by whose death it was won; the dwarf himself does not seem to have been slain. (5)

21. The Dragon Motive (Serpent Motive)

Tempted by Loge to show his power, he puts on the Tarnhelm

(the motive comes forth), and turns himself into a dragon. The

description is wonderfully vivid. Having trapped him into

becoming a toad, the two visitors seize him and his tarnhelm

and drag him up to the earth’s surface. (2)

To put Loge's incredulity to shame, Alberich, Tarnhelm on head, turns himself into a dragon, drawing its cumbersome length across the stage to a fearsome tune which gives all of its uncouthness, and never fails to call forth laughter, like the giants' tread. As a further exhibition of his power, after full measure of flattery in Loge's pretended fright, he at the prompting of the same changes himself into a toad, which has but time for a hop or two, before Wotan places his calm foot upon it. Loge snatches the Tarnhelm off its head and Alberich is seen in his own person writhing under Wotan. Loge binds him fast, and the gods, with their struggling prey between them, hurry off through the pass by which they came. (4) Loge cunningly flatters Alberich, and when the latter tells him

of the Tarnhelmet feigns disbelief of Alberich‘s statements.

Alberich, to prove their truth, puts on the helmet and

transforms himself into a huge serpent. THE SERPENT MOTIVE

expresses the windings and writhings of the monster. The

serpent vanishes and Alberich reappears. When Loge doubts if

Alberich can transform himself into something very small, the

Nibelung changes into a toad. Now is Loge‘s chance. He calls

to Wotan to set his foot on the toad. As Wotan does so, Loge

LOGE.

My fear is fully the witness.

The clumsy worm

becam'st thou at once;

since what I watched,

thy word I take for the wonder.

But works it likewise

when to be little

and light thou wantest?

A safer trick were such,

in time of danger or dread;

only too deep after all!

ALBERICH.

Too deep indeed it sounds for a dunce!

How slight shall I seem?

LOGE.

That the closest cleft may befit thee,

a toad can take to in fear.

ALBERICH.

Nought is lighter! Look at me now!

(He puts the tarn-helm on again.)

"Grizzly toad twist and grovel!"

(He disappears; the gods perceive among the stones a toad

creeping towards them.)

LOGE (to Wotan).

Trap with fleetest fetter the toad!

(Wotan puts his foot on the toad; Loge grasps at its head

and seizes the tarn-helm in his hand.)

ALBERICH (becomes suddenly visible in his real shape as

he writhes under Wotan's foot).

Oho! Be cursed! Behold me corded!

LOGE.

Tread him hard, till he is tied.

(He has taken out a rope and with it fastens Alberich's

arms and legs; they both seize him as he writhes in his

attempts to defend himself, find drag him with them

towards the cleft by which they had descended.)

LOGE.

Now swiftly up! So he is ours!

(They disappear upwards.)

Loge.

My trembling truly may prove it!

A giant snake

thou straight didst become:

now I have seen,

surely must I believe it.

But, as thou grewest,

canst also shape thee

quite small and slender?

The shrewdest way were that,

methinks, all danger to escape:

that, truly, would be too hard.

Alberich.

Too hard for thee, dull as thou art!

How small shall I be?

Loge.

That the smallest cranny could hold thee,

where a frightened toad might be hid.

Alberich.

Pah! nought simpler! Look at me now!

(He puts the Tarnhelm on his head.)

"Crooked toad, creep thou hither!"

He disappears. The gods perceive a toad on the rocks,

crawling towards them.

Loge (to WOTAN).

There, grasp quickly! Capture the toad!

Wotan places his foot on the toad. LOGE makes for his

head and holds the Tarnhelm in his hand.

Alberich (becomes suddenly visible in his own form,

writhing under WOTAN's foot).

Ohe! Accurst! Now am I captive!

Loge.

Hold him fast till he is bound.

LOGE binds his hands and feet with a rope. Both seize the

prisoner, who struggles violently, and drag him to the shaft

by which they came down.

Loge.

Now swiftly up! There he is ours.

(They disappear, mounting upwards.)

puts his hand to its head and seizes the Tarnhelm. Alberich is

seen writhing under Wotan‘s foot. Loge binds Alberich; both

seize him, drag him to the shaft from which they descended

and disappear ascending. (1)

Who, then, are the Nibelungs, from whom the Hoard eventually takes its name? Certainly not the rightful owners; in every version they are subject to the curse, equally with the hero; and in whatever form we find them they suffer defeat, loss, and death. It is very difficult to discover who these Nibelungs originally are, from the fact that the name clings to the Treasure, and is transferred to its possessors for the time being; thus, in the Volsunga-saga, the Gibichungs become Niflungs after they are possessed of the Treasure by Sigurd’s death; in the Nibelungen-lied, Siegfried and his men are Nibelungs after they have won the Hoard from the original bearers of the name, while, at the end of the poem, the title is transferred to the Burgundians, the last owners of the gold. In the Thidrek-saga, Aldrian and his sons are Nibelungs throughout. It will be noticed that the name clings with strange persistency to the royal family into which Siegfried marries and through whom he comes to his death; the reason seems to be that, though not now the representatives of the original Nibelungs of the primitive legend, they have retained certain of their characteristics, and have become closely interwoven with a personality which is certainly part of the original myth. The name undoubtedly comes from the same root as Nifl-heim and Nifl-hell, the lowest of the nine worlds of Northern mythology, the home of mist and darkness, and abode of departed spirits; and it clearly indicates the other world origin of the bearers of the name and one source of the fatal influence of the Treasure; for even had it not been cursed by its rightful owner, the very fact of its having been won from the under-world would make it a dangerous possession. The bearers of the name who committed the first theft of the gold were probably a father and two, or perhaps three, sons. In the Volsunga-saga it is Hreidmar and his sons Fafnir and Regin; in the Nibelungen-lied it is the two brothers Schilbung and Nibelung, and the gold to be divided has generally been held to have been their inheritance from their father; in the Siegfrieds-lied we have Eugel and his brothers - their father, Niblung, is dead. The Thidrek-saga, though so scanty in indication, has two brothers, Mimir and Regin, both of whom Sigfrid slays, and from one of whom he wins the Treasure. This regular recurrence of father and sons as owning the Treasure before it comes into the hero’s hands cannot be a merely accidental coincidence, and the explanation seems to be that in them we have a survival of the original Niblungs or Niflungs, beings of evil origin, who reft the gold from its rightful owner, and by so doing themselves fell victims to the curse which pursues all who become possessed of it. The manner in which the curse affects the hero himself will be discussed when we come to the closing scenes of the drama; on Siegfried it appears to work indirectly, but directly on his murderers, whose death, as related in the Volsunga-saga, was undoubtedly at first due to their possession of the fatal gold. (5)

SCENE IV.

(The scene gradually changes back to the

OPEN DISTRICT ON MOUNTAIN HEIGHTS,

as in the second scene; it is however still veiled in a pale

mist, as, before the second change, after Freia's

disappearance. Wotan and Loge, dragging with them

Alberich in his bonds, come up out of the cleft.)

LOGE.

Here, kinsman,

come to thy halt!

Watch, beloved,

and learn the world

thou wilt bend to thy beggarly will;

bespeak the spot,

where Loge his life may spend.

ALBERICH.

Rascally robber!

Thou wretch! Thou rogue!

Loosen the rope, let me alone,

or pay at the last for thy pastime.

WOTAN.

With fetters hast thou

fairly been haltered,

since to the world,

that wheels and slides,

thou meantest thy will for master.

In fear thou art tied at my feet,

and feel'st the truth as I tell it;

thy wriggling limbs

now loose with a ransom.

ALBERICH.

Fie! the dunce,

the fool for my dream!

To think of trust

in the treacherous thieves!

Withering vengeance wipe out the whim!

LOGE.

Ere vengeance befall us

thou first must vaunt thyself free;

to a foe in fetters

pay the free for no plunder.

So for vengeance to find us,

veer from thy fierceness

and reach us a ransom in full!

FOURTH SCENE.

The scene changes as before, only in reverse order.

Open space on Mountain Heights.

The prospect is shrouded in pale mist as at the end of the

second scene. WOTAN and LOGE, bringing with them

ALBERICH bound, come up out of the chasm.

Loge.

There, kinsman,

take now thy seat!

Look around thee,

there lies the world,

that so fain thou wouldst win for thine own:

what corner, say,

wilt give to me for a stall?

Alberich.

Infamous robber!

Thou rogue! Thou knave!

Loosen the rope, let me go free;

or dearly shalt pay for thy trespass!

Wotan.

A captive art thou,

fast in my fetters,

as thou didst ween

the living world

now lay at thy will before thee.

Thou liest bound at my feet:

deny it, trembler, thou canst not!

To make thyself free,

now pay me the ransom.

Alberich.

O, thou dolt,

thou dreaming fool,

to trust blindly

the treacherous thief!

Fearful revenge shall follow his crime!

Loge.

Art thirsting for vengeance?

must first, then, win thyself free:

to a man in bonds

the free pay nought for a trespass.

Then, dream'st thou of vengeance,

quickly bestir thee,

think of thy ransom betimes!

The scene now changes in the reverse direction to that in

which it changed when Wotan and Loge were descending to

Nibelheim. The orchestra accompanies the change of scene.

The Ring Motive dies away from crashing fortissimo to piano,

to be succeeded by the dark Motive of Renunciation. Then is

heard the clangor of the Nibelung smithies, and amid it the

Motive of Flight in its broadly-expanded form. The Giant,

Walhalla, Loge and Servitude Motives follow, the last with

crushing force as Wotan and Loge emerge from the cleft,

dragging the pinioned Alberich with them. His lease of power

was brief. He is again in a condition of servitude. (1)

The scene changes and the orchestral interlude brings up the

Valhalla Motive and Loge’s flicker, the Ring, Renunciation,

the Smithy, Flight, the Giants and Valhalla, and so on. The

mountain heights of the second scene are disclosed as Alberich

is dragged forth, abusing his captors. They demand his hoard

as a ransom, and as he summons the Nibelungs to bring it, the

motive of the Rising Hoard is sounded. (2)

Then reoccurs, but reversed, the transformation between Nibelheim and the upper world. The region of the stithies is passed, the little hammers are heard. At last Wotan and Loge with Alberich reappear through the sulphur-cleft. "Look, beloved," says Loge to the unhappy captive, "there lies the world which you think of conquering for your own. Tell me now, what little corner in it do you intend as a kennel for me?" And he dances around him, snapping his fingers to the prettiest, heartlessly merry fire-music. Alberich replies with raving insult. Wotan's cool voice reminds him of the vanity of this and calls him to the consideration of his ransom. When Alberich, after a time, grumblingly inquires what they will have, he says, largely and frankly, "The treasure, your shining gold." If he can only retain the ring, reflects Alberich, the loss of the treasure may be quickly repaired. At his request they free his right hand; he touches the ring with his lips and murmurs the spell by which after a moment the swarm of little smoke-grimed Nibelungs arrives groaning and straining under the weight of the Hort; again they pile it in a heap, and at Alberich's command scurry home. (4) A pale mist still veils the prospect as at the end of the second

scene. Loge and Wotan place ALberich on the ground and

Loge dances around the pinioned Nibelung, mockingly

snapping his fingers at the prisoner. Wotan joins Loge in his

mockery of Alberich. The Nibleung asks what he must give for

his freedom. ―Your hoard and your glittering gold,‖ is Wotan‘s

answer. Alberich assents to the ransom and Loge frees the

gnome‘s right hand, Alberich raises the ring to his lips and

murmurs a secret behest. The Nibelung Motive is heard,

combined at first with the Motive of the Rising Hoard, then

with the Motive of Servitude and later with both. The three

motives continue prominent as long as the Nibelungs emerge

from the cleft and heap up the hoard. Then, as Alberich

stretches out the Ring toward them, they rush in terrors toward

the cleft, into which they disappear. (1)

ALBERICH (sharply).

Unfold what fix you to have?

WOTAN.

The hoard and thy glancing gold.

ALBERICH.

Wretched and ravening rogues!

(To himself.)

Yet let me but hold the ring,

the hoard without risk I can lose;

for again it shall gather

and sweetly shall grow

in the might of the mastering gold;

and the trick were a way

of turning me wise,

no further than fittingly paid,

if for it I part with the pile.

WOTAN.

The hoard shall we have?

ALBERICH.

Loosen my hand and let it be here.

(Loge unties his right hand.)

ALBERICH

(touches the ring with his lips and mutters the command).

And now the Nibelungs hastily near;

my behest they bend to;

hark how they bring

from the deepness the hoard into day.

Now free me from press of the bonds!

WOTAN.

No bit till first thou hast paid.

(The Nitelungs rise out of the cleft laden with the treasure

of the hoard.)

ALBERICH.

O withering wrong

that the wary rascals

should see me suffer such woe!

Settle it here! Hark what I say!

Strait and high stow up the hoard!

Move it not lamely,

and look not at me!

Downwards deep

at once from the daylight!

Alberich (roughly).

Then say what ye demand!

Wotan.

The hoard and thy gleaming gold.

Alberich.

Thievish and ravenous gang!

(Aside.)

But if only I keep the ring,

the hoard I may lightly let go;

for anew were it won,

and right merrily fed

were it soon by the spell of the ring;

and a warning 'twould be

to render me wise;

not dearly the lesson were paid,

though for its gain I lose the gold.

Wotan.

Dost yield up the hoard?

Alberich.

Loosen my hand to summon it here.

(LOGE unties the rope from his right hand.)

Alberich (touches the ring with his lips and secretly

murmurs a command).

Behold, the Nibelungs hither are called!

By their lord commanded,

now from the dark

to the daylight they bring up the hoard;

then loosen these torturing bonds!

Wotan.

Not yet, till all hath been paid.

The NIBLUNGS ascend from the cleft, laden with the trea-

sures of the hoard.

Alberich.

O shame and disgrace!

that my shrinking bondsmen

themselves should see me in bonds!

There let it lie, as I command!

In a heap pile up the hoard!

Dolts, must I help you?

Nay, look not on me!

Haste, there! haste!

Then hence with you homeward,

22. The Motive of the Curse / 23. The Nibelung’s Hate

(The Nibelung’s Work of Destruction)

The next step displays the desire of mere worldly aggrandizement on the part of Religion. From Alberich Wotan extorts the fatal treasure, that by its means the empire of the Gods may be assured. But the attempt is vain, and proves at best but a delaying of the doom. In Alberich’s hand the Ring was an emblem of material might, the Hoard and the Helm were the means of his mastery:—egoism, desire of wealth, hypocrisy, are the tools wherewith the Evil Spirit fortifies himself in the heart of man. But with these in the possession of the Gods the case is widely different; they are then no longer a source of strength, but of destruction. Alberich’s curse is on them. To none but him shall they bring profit, but wherever they come the curse shall cling, until either the Devil regain his hold, or the Ring be purified and restored to its original sinlessness in the waters of the Rhine. We now enter upon the last scene of this preliminary drama, a scene wherein the Deities, by a reluctant concession, secure a fancied immunity, but in reality a brief respite, from their impending destiny. In assuming Alberich’s scepter the Gods renounce their own; retaining the treasures of the Nibelung, Freia is lost to them for ever. But the possession of Freia is, as we have seen, essential to their very existence. Nourished no longer by her golden fruit, they wither and decay like sapless leaves, when autumn yields to winter: they have no choice but to ransom her, even at the cost of their ill-gotten riches. Now the giants also covet the evil treasure. They are opposed alike to the Gods and to the Nibelungs, as ignorance is at war with both spiritual and material knowledge. In the first place they aim at extirpating the Spiritual by taking Freia from the Gods; but afterwards, as material advantage seems always the more real to ignorance, they willingly accept the treasure in exchange for her. The Gods thus gain a new lease of life, but the curse, once incurred, clings to them in spite of their renunciation, and, in the words of a German commentator, “this deliverance is but in seeming; the Goddess of Youth indeed, but not youth itself, is regained.” (3)

The Rhine-gold plays no conspicuous part in the story as told in the Volsunga Saga, but in the Wagner version it is the subject around which interest in the developments revolves. If we look beyond the action of the drama for the true signification of the mystical incidents so delightfully unfolded, we cannot fail to perceive that gold is the curse-mark of ambition and that Alberich, the swart, hairy, repulsive, but powerful dwarf, is the embodied principle of lust for riches. Rape of the magic ring from the miserly manikin, by which he is impoverished of his wealth-created power, so infuriates him that he declares a curse shall overtake all who possess the ring or the gold accumulated through its influence. Wagner, departing from the earliest version of the legend, represents the rape of the magic gold as having been made by the dwarf from the three guardian water nymphs. (5)

Back to the work

that waits in your burrows!

Harm to him that is faint,

for I fast shall follow you home!

(The Nibelungs, after they have piled up the hoard, slip

eagerly down again into the cleft.)

ALBERICH.

The gold I leave you;

now let me go;

and the helm at least

that Loge withholds,

again you will give me for luck?

LOGE (throwing the tarn-helm on the hoard).

By rights it belongs to the ransom.

ALBERICH.

The cursed thief!

But comes a thought!

Who aided in one,

he welds me another;

still hold I the might

that Mime must heed.

Yet ill it feels that eager foes

should have such a harbouring fence.

But lo! Alberich all has left you;

so loose the bite of his bonds!

LOGE (to Wotan).

Now is he needless,

here in his knots?

WOTAN.

A golden hoop

behold on thy finger;

hear'st thou, dwarf?

Without it the hoard is not whole.

ALBERICH (horrified).

The ring?

WOTAN.

Along with the ransom's

rest thou must leave it.

ALBERICH.

My life ere I lose the ring!

straight to your work!

off to your smithing!

Woe, if idlers ye be!

At your heels I follow you hard!

He kisses his ring and stretches it out commandingly. As if

struck with a blow, the NIBLUNGS rush cowering and

terrified towards the cleft, into which they quickly

disappear.

Alberich.

Here lies ransom;

now let me go:

and the tarnhelm there,

that Loge yet holds;

that give me in kindness again!

Lege (throwing the tarnhelm on the hoard)

The plunder must pay for the pardon.

Alberich.

Accursed thief!

But, wait awhile!

He who forged me the one

makes me another;

still mine is the might

that Mime obeys.

Sad it seems that crafty foes

should capture my cunning defence!

Well then! Alberich all has given;

now loose, ye tyrants, his bonds!

Loge (to WOTAN).

Art thou contented?

Shall he go free?

Wotan.

A golden ring

gleams on thy finger:

hear'st thou, dwarf?

that also belongs to the hoard.

Alberlch (horrified).

The ring?

Wotan.

To win thee free,

that too must thou leave us.

Alberich.

My life, but not the ring !

Alberich now asks for his freedom, but Loge throws the

Tarnhelmet on to the heap. Wotan further demands that

Alberich also give up the ring. At these words dismay and

terror are depicted on Alberich‘s face. He had hope to save the

ring, but in vain. Wotan tears it from the gnome‘s finger. Then

Alberich, impelled by hate and rage, curses the ring, and the

MOTIVE OF THE CURSE follows. To it should be added the

syncopated measures expressive of the threatening and ever-

active NIBELUNGS‘ HATE. Amid the heavy thuds of the Motive

of Servitude Alberich vanishes in the cleft. (1)

Even the ring is forced from him, to his complete despair—for

with that left him, he could regain all the rest. The motive of

Compact is heard, and as the ring is seized, the Rhine Gold

Motive is launched with a blast, and then that of Renunciation.

Alberich is set free. He turns to his captors in deadly rage and

bitterness, and the motive of the Nibelung’s Work of

Destruction is heard, its chief characteristic being its

syncopated beat. Alberich curses the gold and its possessors

forevermore. It is the only power left to him; but, as Wolzogen

says, it is the power that won him the gold and the ring, the

power that can destroy the world and the gods. (2)

"Now I have paid, now let me go," says the humbled Nibelung-lord, "and that helmet-like ornament which Loge is holding, have the kindness to give it me back." But Loge flings the Tarnhelm on the heap as part of the ransom. Hard to bear is this, but Mime can after all forge another. "Now you have gotten everything; now, you cruel ones, loose the thongs." But Wotan remarks, "You have a gold ring upon your finger; that, I think, belongs with the rest." At this, a madness of terror seizes Alberich. "The ring?..." "You must leave it for ransom." "My life--but not the ring!" With that bitter coldness of the aristocrat which in time brings about revolutions, Wotan replies, "It is the ring I ask for--with your life do what you please!" The dull Nibelung pleads still after that, and his words contain thorns which he might reasonably expect to tell: "The thing which I, anguish-harried and curse-crowned, earned through a horrible renunciation, you are to have for your own as a pleasant princely toy?... If I sinned, I sinned solely against myself, but against all that has been, is, or shall be, do you, Immortal, sin, if you wrest this ring from me...." Wotan without further discussion stretches out his hand and tears from Alberich's finger the ring, which gives once more, under this violence, the golden call, saddened and distorted. "Here, the ring!—Your chattering does not establish your right to it!" Alberich drops to earth, felled. Wotan places the ring on his hand and stands in gratified contemplation of it. "I hold here what makes me the mightiest lord of the mighty!"

WOTAN.

The ring I look for;

thou art welcome well to thy life!

ALBERICH.

Rendered, with breath and body,

the ring must be to the ransom;

hand and head, eye and ear,

are my own no rather

than here is this ruddy ring!

WOTAN.

Thy own thou wilt reckon the ring?

Ravest thou openly of it?

Soundly here to me

say whence thou hadst

the gold for the glimmering hoop?

Ere thou torest it to thee under

the water, was it thy own?

From the river's daughters

rightfully draw whether the gold

was so willingly given

from which the ring thou hast wrenched.

ALBERICH.

Sputtering slander! Slovenly spite!

Me to blot with the blame thy mind

so much was set on itself!

How long wouldst thou

have wished to leave them their wealth,

hadst thou not held

the wisdom to weld it too hard?

And well, thou feigner, fell it that once,

when the Niblung here was gnawed to the heart

at a nameless harm,

on the harrowing wonder he happed,

whose work now laughs to thy look!

By woe seized upon, searched and wildered,

a deed of crowded curses I did

and dreadly to-day

shall the fruit of it deck thee,

my curse to befriend thee be called?

Guard thyself more, masterful god!

Wrought I amiss, I wrecked but a right of mine;

but on all that will be, is and was,

god, thou raisest a wrong,

if got from my grasp is the ring!

WOTAN.

Off with the ring!

No right to it takest thou out of thy tongue.

Wotan.

The ring surrender;

with thy life do what thou wilt.

Alberich.

If but my life be left me,

the ring too must I deliver;

hand and head, eye and ear

are not mine more truly

than mine is this golden ring!

Wotan.

Thine own thou callest the ring?

Ravest thou, impudent Niblung?

Truly tell how thou gottest the gold,

from which the bright trinket was shaped.

Was't thine own, then,

which thou, rogue,

from the Rhines deep waters hast reft?

To the maidens hie thee,

ask thou of them if their gold

for thine own they have given,

which thou hast robbed for the ring!

Alberich.

Infamous tricksters! Shameful deceit!

Thief, dost cast in my teeth the crime,

so dearly wished for by thee?

How fain wert thou

to steal the gold for thyself,

were but the craft

to forge it as easily gained?

How well, thou knave, it works for thy weal

that the Niblung, I, from shameful defeat,

and by fury driven,

the terrible magic did win

whose work laughs cheerly on thee!

Shall this hapless and anguish-torn one's

curseladen, fearfullest deed

but serve now to win thee

this glorious toy?

shall my ban bring a blessing on thee?

Heed thyself, o'erweening god!

If I have sinned, I sinned but against myself:

but against all that was, is and shall be

sinn'st, eternal one, thou,

if rashly thou seizest my ring!

Wotan.

Yield the ring!

No right to that can all thy prating e'er win.

Loge unties Alberich and bids him slip home. But the Nibelung is past care or fear, and rising to insane heights of hatred lays upon the ring such a curse as might well shake its owner's complacency. "As it came to me through a curse, accursed be this ring! As it lent me power without bounds, let its magic now draw death upon the wearer! Let no possessor of it be happy.... Let him who owns it be gnawed by care and him who owns it not be gnawed by envy! Let every one covet, no one enjoy it!... Appointed to death, fear-ridden let its craven master be! While he lives, let his living be as dying! The ring's master be the ring's slave,--until my stolen good return to me!... Now keep it! Guard it well! My curse you shall not escape!" "Did you hear his affectionate greeting?" asks Loge, when Alberich has vanished down the rocky cleft. Wotan, absorbed in the contemplation of the ring, has heard the curse with the same degree of interest he might have bestowed upon the trickle of a brook. He replies magnanimously, "Grudge him not the luxury of railing!" (4)

As to the final destination of the Treasure, the legend which represents it as being cast into the Rhine is probably correct; to throw it into the water would be the speediest means of restoring it to the powers of the underworld, to whom it undoubtedly belonged. That the Thidrek-saga gives a different version is easily to be accounted for by the fact that the compiler knew, and followed, both Northern and German tradition; having followed the Volsunga-saga by making Siegfried win the gold from the dragon, he preserved the German version by altering its ultimate fate; such instances of transposition are not unusual. On the whole, the evidence seems to point to the fact that Wagner’s version, poetical as it undoubtedly is, does not represent the true origin of the Hoard, and that the Rhine was not the cradle, though it was the final resting place, of the fatal gold. But leaving the baleful Treasure, let us now turn to the consideration of the feud between the gods and the giants, so vividly depicted in the drama. All students of German mythology know that the giants were the first of the unearthly races to come into existence, that their character and influence are represented as distinctly evil, and that they are the deadly enemies of the Asas, the gods who dwell in Asgard, who have overcome the giants and succeeded to their power. The story of the building of Walhalla, as given in the Rhine-Gold, is based upon the myth of Swadilfari, which runs as follows: After the gods had built Midgard and Walhalla (which according to mythology, they built themselves) a certain master-builder came to them, and offered to build them a Burg which should serve as defence against the giants, asking as reward the goddess Freyja, and the sun and moon. The gods held counsel together, and at Loke’s advice, promised to give him what he asked, provided that the Burg was built within the winter months, and that no man should aid him; were one stone lacking on the first summer day, he should

(With, impetuous force he pulls the ring from Alberich's

finger.)

ALBERICH (with horrible shrieks).

So! Uprooted! and wrecked!

Of wretches the wretchedest slave!

WOTAN (has put the ring on his finger and gazes on it

with satisfaction).

And lo what makes me at last

of masters the mastering lord!

LOGE.

Leave has he got?

WOTAN.

Let him go!

LOGE (unfastens Alberich's bands).

Haste to thy home!

Not a link withholds thee;

fare freely below!

ALBERICH

(raising himself from the ground, with raging laughter).

So am I free? Safely free?

Then fast and thickly

my freedom's thanks shall flow!

As by curse I found it first,

a curse rest on the ring!

Gave its gold to me measureless might,

now deal its wonder death where it is worn!

No gladness grows where it has gone,

and with luck in its look it no more shall laugh;

care to his heart who has it shall cleave,

and who holds it not shall the need of it gnaw!

All shall gape for its endless gain;

but wield it shall none from now as wealth;

by its lord without thrift it shall lie,

but shall light the thief to his throat!

To death under forfeit,

faint in its dread he shall feel;

though long he live day by day he shall die,

and serve the ring that he seems to rule;

till again its gold

I shall find and fill with my finger!

Such blessing in blackest need

the Nibelung has for his hoard!

Withhold it now, next to thy heart;

till my curse catches thee home!

(He disappears quickly into the cleft.)

(He seizes ALBERICH, and with violence draws the ring

from his finger.)

Alberich (with a horrible cry).

Ha! Defeated! Destroyed!

Of wretches the wretchedest slave!

Wotan

(contemplating the ring. He puts the ring on).

This ring now lifts me on high,

the mightiest lord of all might.

Loge.

Shall he go free?

Wotan.

Set him free!

Loge (sets ALBERICH entirely free).

Slip away home!

Not a fetter holds thee:

free, fare thou now hence!

Alberich

(raising himself, laughing with rage).

Am I now free? Free in sooth?

Thus greets you then

this my freedom's foremost word!

As by curse came it to me,

accurst be aye this ring!

As its gold gave measureless might,

let now its magic deal death to its lord!

Its wealth shall yield pleasure to none,

to gladden none shall its lustre laugh!

Care shall consume aye him who doth hold it,

and envy gnaw him who holdeth it not!

All shall lust after its delights,

yet nought shall it boot him who wins the prize!

To its lord no gain let it bring;

yet be murder drawn in its wake!

To death devoted,

chained be the craven by fear:

his whole life long daily wasting away,

the treasure's lord as the treasure's slave!

Till again once more

in my hand regained I shall hold it!

So — blesses, in sorest need,

the Nibelung now his ring I —

Then, hold it fast, ward it with heed!

But my curse canst thou not flee.

(He vanishes quickly in the cleft.)

forfeit all reward. The builder consented to the terms on condition that he might have the aid of his horse, Swadilfari, to which the gods readily agreed; but they were astonished when they saw the size of the blocks which the horse bare to the building, and how it did half as much work again as the man, and as the winter passed on and the Burg grew taller and taller, they became fearful of the ending of the matter. At last it wanted but three days to summer, and the Burg was finished all but the doorway; then the gods called upon Loke to aid them, since it was by his counsel they had made the contract. So Loke changed himself into a mare, and when the builder led his horse in the evening to collect stones for the next day’s work, the mare ran out of the wood and neighed to the horse; and when the horse Swadilfari heard it, it brake the halter and ran into the wood after the mare, and the builder must needs chase the horse all night, and could not catch it, so he gathered together no stones, and the next day he did no work, and the Burg could not be finished in time. So when the builder saw this he flew into a great rage, and the gods knew that this was one of their foes, the mountain-giants who had tried to betray them; and they called on Thor, and he came with his hammer and struck the giant on the head and slew him, and he fell down to Nifl-heim. With this myth Wagner has apparently connected another, which tells how Loke, having fallen into the power of the giant Thjasse, wins his freedom by promising to betray the goddess Idun and her apples of youth into Thjasse’s hands. This he does, and the gods discover the loss of Idun by finding themselves grow old and grey-headed. They inquire into the matter, and find out that Loke is, as usual, the source of the mischief, and therefore order him, on pain of death, to bring back Idun. This he promises to do if Freyja will lend him her falcon-dress, in which disguise he flees to Jötunheim, the abode of the giants, and carries off Idun in the shape of a nut or a swallow (there are two accounts). The form of Freyja’s ransom from the giants, is, of course, based upon the account of Loke’s ransom in the Volsunga-saga, which, alone of all the versions, directly connects the gods with the Nibelungen Hoard, though in the legend, having promptly given up gold and ring, they are in no way affected by the curse. Still, as mythology distinctly connects the fall of the gods, the Götterdämmerung and Weltenuntergang (from which catastrophe, however, gods and men alike are to rise renewed, purified, and restored to their original innocence), with the love of gold. Wagner can hardly be deemed to have exercised too much poetical license in representing them as closely concerned in the fate of the Treasure, and following with the keenest interest the fortunes of the race destined to win it from its evil possessors. But inasmuch as these mythological events form no part of the original legend, it is unnecessary to examine them critically in order to see whether the version given by Wagner does or does not represent the original form of the story; it is sufficient for the comprehension of the drama to indicate the sources from which they are drawn. (5)

LOGE.

So he leaves us and sends his love!

WOTAN (lost in contemplation of the ring).

Losing his spittle in spite!

(The mist in the foreground gradually becomes clearer.)

LOGE (looking towards the right).

Fasolt and Fafner haste from afar;

Freia follows their heels.

(From the other side come in Fricka, Donner, and Froh.)

FROH.

So back they are brought.

DONNER.

Be welcome, brother.

FRICKA (hurrying anxiously to Wotan).

Sound will thy tidings sweetly?

LOGE (pointing to the hoard).

Of trick and of force the fruit we took,

and won what Freia wants.

DONNER.

From the giants' hold joys she to hasten.

FROH.

With freshening breath filled is my face;

sweetness of sunlight into me sinks!

Our hearts were wistful as women's

while here we waited for her,

who only yields us the bliss

of endlessly blossoming youth.

(The foreground has again become bright; the gods'

appearance regains in the light its former freshness; over

the background, however, the mist still hangs, so that the

distant castle remains invisible.)

(Fasolt and Fafner approach, leading Freia between

them.)

FRICKA

(rushes joyously towards her sister to embrace her).

Loveliest sister, sweetest delight!

Bind me again to thy bosom!

Loge.

Didst thou listen to love's farewell?

Wotan (sunk in contemplation of the ring on his hand).

Let him give way to his wrath!

The thick mist in the foreground gradually clears away.

Loge (looking to the right).

Fasolt and Fafner hitherward fare:

Freia bring they to us.

(Through the dispersing mist DONNER, FROH and

FRICKA appear and hasten towards the foreground.)

Froh.

See, they have returned!

Donner.

Now welcome brother!

Fricka (anxiously to WOTAN).

Bring'st thou joyful tidings?

Loge (pointing to the hoard).

By cunning and force the task is done:

there Freia's ransom lies.

Donner.

From the giant's hold neareth the fair one.

Froh.

What balmiest air wafteth to us,

blissful enchantment fills every sense!

Sad, in sooth, were our fortune,

for ever sundered from her,

who painless, ne'er-ending youth

and rapturous joy doth bestow.

The foreground has become bright again and the aspect of

the gods regains in the light its former freshness. The misty

veil, however, still covers the background so that the

distant castle remains invisible.

FASOLT and FAFNER enter, leading FREIA between

them.

Fricka

(hastens joyfully towards her sister).

Loveliest sister, sweetest delight!

Art thou to us once more given?

The mist begins to rise. It grows lighter. The Giant Motive and

the Motive of Eternal Youth are heard, for the giants are

approaching with Freia. Donner, Froh and Fricka hasten to

greet Wotan. Fasolt and Fafner enter with Freia. It has grown

clear, except that the mist still hides the distant castle. Freia‘s

presence seems to have restored youth to the gods. While the

Motive of the Giant Compact resounds, Fasolt asks for the

ransom for Freia. Wotan points to the hoard. With staves the

giants measure off a space of the height and breadth of Freia.

That space must be filled out with treasure. Loge and Froh pile

up the hoard, but the giants are not satisfied even when the

Tarn-helmet has been added. They wish also the ring to fill out

a crevice. Wotan turns in anger away from them. (1)

The sky brightens; the giants are bringing back Freia. The

rhythm of their motive is heard in the bass, and the Freia

Motive above it. The exchange of Freia for the gold is about to

be made, and the Compact Motive sounds, but Fasolt demands

that the treasure be piled so high (motive of the Rising Hoard)

that it shall hide the fair maid from his sight – and the motive

of Renunciation comes, with the Freia Motive and the Smithy

Motive, welded together in a wonderful art. (2)

Fricka, Donner, and Froh hasten to welcome the returning gods. The approach of Freia, whom the giants are bringing between them, is felt before she appears, in a subtle sweetening of the air, a simultaneous lightening of all the hearts and return of youth to the faces, which Froh's daintily expansive greeting describes. Fricka is hurrying toward her. Fasolt interposes: Not to be touched! She still belongs to them until the ransom have been paid. Fasolt does not fall in willingly with the arrangement which shall give them the gold in place of the woman; he has been overpersuaded by the black brother; his regret at losing Freia is so great, he tells the gods, that the treasure, if she is to be relinquished, will have to be piled so high as completely to hide the blooming maid. "Let it be measured according to Freia's stature!" decrees Wotan, and the giants drive their great staves into the earth so that they roughly frame the figure of Freia. Helped by Loge and Froh, they begin stopping the space between with the treasure. Wotan's fastidiousness cannot endure the visible sordid details of his bargain; he turns from the sight of the incarnate rose, as she stands drooping in a noble shame, to be valued against so much gold. "Hasten with the work!" he bids them, "it sorely goes against me!" When Fafner's rough greed orders the measure to be more solidly pressed down, and he ducks spying for crevices still to be stopped with gold, Wotan turns away, soul-sick: "Humiliation burns deep in my breast!" The Hort is exhausted, when Fafner looking for crannies exclaims, "I can still see the shining of her hair," and demands, to shut it from view, the Tarnhelm which Loge has attempted to retain. "Let it go!" commands Wotan, when Loge hesitates.

FASOLT (forbidding her)

Stay! Let her alone!

Still she all is ours.

At Riesenheim's towering rim

rested we two; in blameless plight

the bargain's pledge we held for pay;

though grief it prove, again we give her,

if whole and ready the ransom's here.

WOTAN.

At hand lies it ready;

in friendly mood may it fairly be measured!

FASOLT.

To leave the woman,

lightly will lead me to woe;

so that she wane from my senses,

must the hoard we take

heighten its top, till from my gaze

her flowering face it shall guard!

WOTAN.

At Freia's height the heap shall be fixed.

(Fafner and Fasolt stick their stakes in front of Freia into

the ground, in such manner that they include the same

height and breadth as her figure.)

FAFNER.

The poles we have set to the pledge's size;

the hoard must hide her from sight.

WOTAN.

Hurry the work; hateful I hold it!

LOGE.

Help me, Froh !

FROH.

Freia's harm haste I to finish.

(Loge and Froh quickly heap the treasure between the

stakes.)

FAFNER.

Not so light and loose it must look;

fast and firm let it be found!

(With rude force he presses the treasure close together; he

stoops down to search for spaces.)

Fasolt (restraining her).

Hold! Touch her not yet!

Still we claim her ours. —

On Riesenheim's fastness of rock

took we our rest; in truth and honour

the treaty's pledge tended we.

Though sorely loth, to you I bring her;

now pay us brothers the ransom here.

Wotan.

At hand lies the ransom:

in goodly measure the gold shall be meted.

Fasolt.

To lose the woman,

know ye, my spirit is sore:

if from my heart I must tear her,

the treasure hoard

heap ye then so that from my sight

the blossoming maid it may hide!

Wotan.

By Freia's form, then, measure the gold!

The two giants place FREIA in the middle. They then stick

their staves into the ground in front of FREIA, so that they

give the measure of her height and breadth.

Fafner.

Fast fixed are our poles there to frame her form;

now heap the hoard to their height!

Wotan.

Haste with the work: sorely it irks me!

Loge.

Help me Froh!

Froh.

Freia's shame straight must be ended.

(LOGE and FROH hastily heap up the treasure between

the poles.)

Fafner.

Not so loosely piled be the gold.

Firm and close fill up the gauge!

He roughly presses the treasure together. He stoops down

to look for crevices.

The affair, it now would seem, must be closed; but Fasolt, in his grief over the loss of the Fair one, still hovers about, peering if perchance he may still see her, and so he catches through the screen of gold the gleam of her eye, and declares that so long as the lovely glance is visible he will not renounce the woman. "But can you not see, there is no more gold?" remonstrates Loge. Fafner, who has not failed to store in his brain what he earlier overheard, replies, "Nothing of the kind. There is a gold ring still on Wotan's finger. Give us that to stop the cranny." "This ring?..." cries Wotan, like Alberich before him. "Be advised," Loge says to the giants, as if in confidence. "That ring belongs to the Rhine-maidens. Wotan intends to return it to them." But Wotan has no subterfuges or indirections of his own—not conscious ones; when he needs their aid, he uses another, as he had told Fricka. "What are you prating?" he corrects Loge; "what I have obtained with such difficulty, I shall keep without compunction for myself." Loge amuses himself with probing further the grained spot in his superior. "My promise then stands in bad case, which I made to the Rhine-daughters when they turned to me in their trouble." Wotan, with the coldness of the Pharisee's "Look thou to that," replies, "Your promise does not bind me. The ring, my capture, I shall keep." "But you will have to lay it down with the ransom," Fafner insists. "Ask what else you please, you shall have it; but not for the whole world will I give up the ring." Fasolt instantly lays hands again upon Freia and draws her from behind the Hort. "Everything then stands as it stood before. Freia shall come with us now for good and all." An outcry of appeal goes up from all the gods to Wotan. He turns from them unmoved. "Trouble me not. The ring I will not give up." And the idleness of further appeal, howsoever eloquent, cannot be doubted. (4) Ever since the year 1845 the powerful tragedy of the Nibelungs had exercised a most potent influence on Richard Wagner‟s highly poetic nature. It was during the composition of “Lohengrin” that the old contest in Wagner‟s mind between the mythical and historical principles was finally decided. The representative of the former was Siegfried, the hero of the earliest of Teutonic myths. In the domain of history Wagner perceived merely relations or circumstances and not man himself, or man only so far as he was controlled by the power of circumstances; while in the realm of myth he saw the pure soul of humanity. Desiring to give an artistic form and expression to the ardent study of Teutonic antiquity, especially of the mediaeval German poems and the old Scandinavian epics and sagas. By stripping the Teutonic myth of the various garbs in which it had been clad, and to some extent disfigured, by later poetic productions and sagas, it was revealed to him at last in its pure, primitive raiment and chaste beauty; and with it he found in the myth what he sought - the true man; that is, what is purely human, freed from all conventionalism - the tragedy of the human soul.

A gap I behold;

the holes are forgotten!

LOGE.

Withhold, thou lubber! Lift not a hand!

FAFNER.

But look! A cleft to be closed!

WOTAN (fuming away in disgust).

Right to my heart hisses the wrong.

FRICKA (with her eyes fixed on Freia).

See how in shame she

shyly and sweetly shrinks;

to be loosed she lifts

wordless woe in her look.

O harmful man!

So much at thy hand she has met!

FAFNER.

Still more I miss!

DONNER.

Beside myself makes me the wrath

roused by the mannerless rogue!

Behold, thou hound!

Must thou measure,

thy size thou shalt settle with me!

FAFNER.

Softly, Donner! Roll when thy sound

will help thee sooner than here!

DONNER.

With thy bark see if thou balk it!

WOTAN.

Hold thy rage! Already Freia is hid.

LOGE.

The hoard is drained.

FAFNER (measuring- with his eye).

Still dazzles me Holda's hair;

more is at hand meet for the heap!

LOGE.

Mean'st thou the helm?

FAFNER.

Quickly let it come!

Here still I see through:

come, stop me these crannies!

Loge.

Away, thou rude one! touch thou not aught!

Fafner.

Look here! this cleft must be closed!

Wotan (turning away moodily).

Deep in my breast burns this disgrace!

Fricka.

See how in shame

standeth the glorious maid:

for release beseeches

her suffering look.

Heartless man !

Our loveliest bears this through thee!

Fafner.

Pile on still more!

Donner.

I bear no more; foaming rage

wakens the rogue in my breast!

Come hither, hound!

Wouldst thou measure,

then take thy measure with me!

Fafner.

Patience, Donner! Roar where it serves:

thy thunder helps thee not here.

Donner (aiming a blow).

It will serve, scoundrel, to crush thee.

Wotan.

Peace, my friend! Methinks now Freia is hid.

Loge.

The hoard is spent.

Fafner (measures the hoard closely with his eye).

Yet shines to me Holda's hair:

there, yonder toy throw on the hoard!

Loge.

What? e'en the helm?

Fafner.

Quickly, here with it!

The poem of the “Ring of the Nibelung” was printed for circulation among the friends of the composer in the year 1853; it was published in 1863. Although the master deemed music the only language befitting the ideal sphere of the myth, his dramas could not be called operas in the ordinary sense of the word. He named them, therefore, musical dramas, and the “Ring of the Nibelung” is a festival play for three days and a fore-evening. The fore-evening is entitled “The Rheingold.” As early as 1848 he had written the drama “Siegfried‟s Death,” which later, considerably modified, came to form the fourth and last part of the Ring. He then wrote “Siegfried,” afterwards “Die Walküre,” and last “Das Rheingold.” The poem is written in alliterative lines, a form of versification most appropriate to the contents and the whole atmosphere of the drama. Wagner says that the at the mythical source where he found the youthful Siegfried he also found the melody of speech, the only one in which such a being could express himself. It is a well-known fact that alliteration („Stabreim,‟ stave-rhyme) is used in the “Elder Edda” and in all the other earliest remnants of Scandinavian and German poetry. The most melodious alliterative rhymes are formed in German by the letters l, w and s, as is evident from the well-known Spring-song of Siegmund in the Walküre.” Besides the Spring-song there are many other instances of beautiful alliterative versification; there are necessarily also lines of a different character, though they are just as appropriate to the contents therein. The gold according to ancient Teutonic traditions was imagined to lie in the waters‟ depths. It was common belief that the golden sun descended every evening into the sea to repose there at night, and thus the ocean came to be considered as the abode of all wealth. In northern sagas the gold is often called the fire of Aeger (the sea-god). Later the sea-gold became the river-gold, the Rhinegold, since in old German traditions the gold was thought to be concealed especially in the waters of the Rhine, the national river, hallowed in history, saga and legend. When in the heroic era the dangers and abuses of wealth began to be seen in the increasing power and overbearing might of the kings and chieftains, the ideas of evil, guilt, and misfortune were easily connected with the acquisition of riches. Thus the leading thought in the “Rheingold” is this: the gold is ravished from its primitive innocent abode and its original possessors, personified here by the Rhine-daughters, the guardians of the treasure, in order to acquire riches and power. To this conception is added the ethical idea that he only can rob the gold and employ it for that purpose by whom love has been forsworn and accursed; by him alone can be wrought from the gold the ring, the symbol of sensuous splendor and material power. But as soon as the gold has ceased to be what it has been – the playful sport of the spirits of the deep – as soon as it has become the object of acquisition for the sake of wielding infinite power alone, the curse rests upon it, and whoever owns it is doomed to destruction by the envy of others. It is the curse of the first evil deed that it ever must bring forth new evils.

WOTAN.

Keep it not longer!

LOGE (throws the helm on the heap).

Enough it is heightened. Now are you happy?

FASOLT.

Freia's no longer free to my look;

is she then loosed? Am I to leave her?

(He steps close up to the hoard and spies through it.)

Woe! yet gleams her glance to me well;

her eyelight's star streams without end;

here through a cleft it comes to me whole!

While with her look I am lighted,

from the woman I will not loose.

FAFNER.

Hi! what bring you its brightness to hinder?

LOGE.

Hunger-holder!

Hast thou forgot that gone is the gold?

FAFNER.

Not fully, friend!

From Wotan's finger glean the glimmering ring,

and choke the chink in the ransom.

WOTAN.

What! with the ring ?

LOGE.

Madly mean you!

To Rhine-maidens belongs its gold;

to their guard back he must give it.

WOTAN.

What blab'st thou about?

With work and wear I found it,

and freely save it myself.

LOGE.

Ill then weighs it all for the word

that I gave them over their grief.

WOTAN.

But thy word can bar not my right;

as booty wear I the ring.

Wotan.

Let it go also!

Loge (throws the Tarnhelm on the pile).

Then all is now finished! Are ye contented?

Fasolt.

Freia, the fair one, see I no more!

then, is she released? must I now lose her?

(He goes close up and peers through the hoard.)

Ah! yet gleams her glance on me here;

her eyes like stars send me their beams;

still through a cleft I look on their light. —

While her sweet eyes shine upon me,

from the woman will I not turn!

Fafner,

Hey! I charge you, come stop me this crevice!

Loge.

Ne'er contented!

See ye then not, all spent is the hoard?

Fafner.

Nay, not so, friend!

on Wotan's finger gleams the gold of a ring:

give that to fill up the crevice!

Wotan.

What? this my ring?

Loge.

Hear ye counsel!

the Rhine-daughters should own the gold;

and to them Wotan will give it.

Wotan.

What pratest thou there?

The prize that 1 have won me,

without fear I hold for myself!

Loge.

Evil chance befalls the promise

I gave the sorrowing maids!

Wotan.

But thy promise bindeth me not:

as booty mine is the ring.

Wotan had made a solemn compact with the giants, and the stability of his realm depends on the sacredness of his oath. As if to remind him of this limit of his power, the orchestra intones a solemn theme, which might be called the law or bond motive. Another important melody of great sweetness, which first occurs in this scene, is that which marks the entrance of Freyja, the goddess of youth; to its sounds she implores the assistance of Wotan against her pursuers, whose clumsy footsteps, following the lovely maiden, are characterized by a heavy rhythmical phrase in the orchestra. The contrast between the natures here brought in contact is thus expressed by the music with an intensity wholly unattainable by verbal explanation. As to Loki, the chromatic motive expressive of his character resembles the fitful flickering of fire. In Loki‟s flames the splendor of Valhall is doomed to perish, and it is also by his means that the moral guilt of the gods, which already in the Eddic poems is the cause of their fate, is brought about. The mist that had risen out of the cleft after Loki and Wotan disappeared and spread itself over the whole scene gradually clears. Loki, looking towards the right, perceives Fasolt and Fafnir from afar, leading Freya. From the other side Fricka, Thor and Frô appear. Fricka anxiously inquires after the success of Wotan‟s undertaking, whereupon Loki points to the hoard. The foreground has become bright again; the appearance of the gods assumes in the light its former freshness. Over the background, however, the mist is still visible, so that the distant castle cannot be seen. Fafnir and Fasolt appear, with Freyja between them. Fricka joyously hastens towards her and embraces her. Fasolt and Fafnir thrust their staves in front of Freyja into the ground in such a way as to comprise the same height and breadth as her figure. Loki and Frô swiftly heap up the treasure between the staves. Fafner with rude force presses it close together, and stoops down to see if there are any open spaces. In the meantime, while Wotan can hardly suppress his rage against the giants, Fricka, fixing her glance on Freyja, bewails the shameful treatment to which the lofty goddess is thus exposed. Fafnir rudely calls for more gold; and Thor is about to attack the giant, when Wotan exclaims that Freyja‟s figure is hidden by the hoard. At the same time Loki says that all the gold had been parted with. Fafnir, measuring the hoard with his eyes, replies that he can see Freyja‟s hair, and demands the magic helmet. Loki throws it on the pile of gold. Fasolt then approaches the hoard and spies through it; he perceives Freyja‟s gleaming eye, and at once declares that she cannot be freed unless she be wholly concealed from sight. Fafnir demands the ring, but Wotan stubbornly refuses to give it up. Fasolt then furiously drags Freyja from behind the hoard, and cries out that the goddess must follow the giants to their home. Despite the entreaties of Fricka, Frô and Thor to yield the ring and thereby procure Freyja‟s ransom, Wotan is still determined to keep it. Fafnir for a moment holds off Fasolt, who is about to lead Freyja awawy. The gods stand amazed, and Wotan wrathfully turns away from them. Darkness reigns again on the scene. (6)

FAFNER.

But here for ransom hast thou to reach it.

WOTAN.

Fleetly fix what you will; all shall await you ;

but all the world not rend me out of the ring!

FASOLT (with rage pulls Freia from behind the hoard).

Then all is off, the time is up,

and Freia forfeit for ever!

FREIA.

Help me! Hold me!

FRICKA.

Stubborn god, stay not the gift!

FROH.

Gone let the gold be!

DONNER.

Hold not the hoop back!

WOTAN.

Leave me at rest! I loose not the ring.

(Fafner still holds off the impetuous Fasolt; all stand in

perplexity; Wotan in rage turns away from them. The stage

has again become dark; from the chasm at the side a bluish

light breaks forth; in it Wotan suddenly perceives Erda,

who, as far as her middle, rises out of the depth; she is of

noble appearance with wide-flowing black hair.)

ERDA

(stretching her hand warningly towards Wotan).

Yield it, Wotan, yield it!

Keep not what is cursed!

Soon is sent darkly and downwards

he who saves the hoop.

WOTAN.

What warning woman is here?

ERDA.

How all has been, count I;

how all becomes, and is hereafter,

tell I too; the endless world's ere-Wala,

Erda, bids thee bethink.

Thrice of daughters, ere-begotten,

my womb was eased, and so my knowledge

sing to thee Norns in the night-time.

But dread of thy harm draws m

Fafner.

But here for ransom must it be rendered.

Wotan.

Boldly ask what ye will, all I will grant you;

for all the world yet I will not yield up the ring!

Fasolt (angrily pulls Freia from behind the hoard).

All's at end! as erst it stands;

now ours is Freia for ever!

Freia.

Help me! Help me!

Fricka.

Cruel god! give them their way!

Froh.

Hold not the gold back!

Donner.

Grant them the ring then!

Wotan.

Leave me in peace: the ring will I hold!

FAFNER holds back FASOLT who is pressing to go. All

stand confounded. WOTAN turns angrily away from them.

The stage has again become dark. From a rocky cleft on

one side breaks forth a bluish light in which ERDA

becomes suddenly visible, rising from below to half her

height.

Erda

(stretching her hand warningly towards WOTAN).

Yield it, Wotan! Yield it!

Flee the ring's dread curse!

Hopeless and darksome disaster

lies hid it its might.

Wotan.

What woman warneth me thus?

Erda.

All that e'er was — know I;

how all things are, how all things will be —

see I too: the endless world's allwise one,

Erda, warneth thee now.

Ere the world was, daughters three

of my womb were born; what mine eyes see,

nightly the Norns ever tell thee.

But danger most dire

24. The Norn Motive (Erda) / 25. The Dusk of the Gods From the rocky cliffs at the side a bluish light breaks forth. In it Wotan immediately perceives Erda, who half emerges from the depth; she is of noble mien, with long black hair. Erda stretches her hand warningly towards Wotan. (6)

To stop the final crevices the Tarnhelm and the Ring must be

added (Praise of the Rhinegold and the Rhine Gold fanfare are

heard), much against Wotan’s will. He is persuaded to it by

the warning of Erda, the wise, all-knowing mother, who

emerges from the bowels of the earth, her dwelling-place, and

whose emergence is accompanied by a motive associated with

the fate-dealing Norns, her daughters. Its connection with the

motive of the Primeval Element is evident. She tells of the dire

danger that has summoned her, and the malignant

syncopations of the Nibelung’s Work of Destruction add

emphasis to her telling. A darksome day dawns for the gods, is

her warning; and it is accompanied by the motive of the Dusk

of the Gods. ―Give up the Ring!‖ she counsels, and Wotan

yields, with the Compact Motive sounding loud, and that of

Renunciation: and the Flight Motive marking the release of

Freia. (2)

A bluish light glimmers in the rocky cleft to the right, and

through it Erda rises to half her height. She warns Wotan

against retaining possession of the ring. The Motives

prominent during the action preceding the appearance of Erda

will be readily recognized. They are the Giant Compact

Motive combined with the Nibelung motive (the latter

combined with the Giant Motive and Motive of the Hoard) and

the Ring Motive, which breaks in upon the action with tragic

force as Wotan refuses to give up the ring to the giants. The

ERDA MOTIVE bears a strong resemblance to the Rhine

Motive. The syncopated notes of the Nibelung‘s malevolence,

so threateningly indicative of the harm which Alberich is

plotting, are also heard in Erda‘s warning. Wotan, heeding her

words, throws the ring upon the hoard. Here the Freia Motive,

combined with the Flight Motive, now no longer agitated but

joyful, rings out gleefully. (1)

But now unaccountable darkness invades the scene; from the hollow alcove in the rocks, letting down to the interior earth, breaks a bluish light; while all, breathless, watch the strange phenomenon, the upper half of a woman becomes discernible in it, wrapped in smoke-coloured veils and long black locks. It is the Spirit of the Earth, the all-knowing Erda, whose motif describes the stately progression of natural things, and is the same as the Rhine-motif, which describes a natural thing in stately progression. She lifts a warning hand to Wotan. "Desist, Wotan, desist! Avoid the curse on the ring... The possession of it will doom you to dark ruin...." Wotan, struck, inquires in awe, "Who are you, warning woman?"

in haste hither to-day;

hearken! hearken! hearken!

Nothing that is ends not;

a day of gloom dawns for the gods;

be ruled and wince from the ring!

She sinks slowly up to the breast, while the bluish light

begins to darken.

WOTAN.

With hiding weight is holy thy word;

wait till I more have mastered!

ERDA (as she disappears).

I warned thee now thou know'st enough;

brood, and the rest forebode!

(She disappears completely.)

WOTAN.

Fear must sicken and fret me?

Not if I seize thee, and search to thy knowledge.

(He attempts to follow Erda into the cleft to hold her;

Donner, Froh, and Fricka throw themselves before him

and prevent him.)

FRICKA.

What mischief maddens thee?

FROH.

Beware, Wotan!

Hallow the Wala, hark to her word!

DONNER (to the giants).

Heed, you giants! Withhold your hurry;

the gold have, that you gape for.

FREIA.

How shall I hope it?

Was then Holda rightly her ransom's worth?

(All look with anxiety at Wotan.)

WOTAN

(has sunk in deep thought and now collects himself with

force to a decision).

To me, Freia! I make thee free;

yield us again the youth

that thy going had reft!

You giants, joy of your ring!

(He throws the ring' on the hoard.)

calleth me hither to-day.

Hear me! Hear me! Hear me!

All that e'er was endeth!

A darksome day dawns for your godhood;

be counselled, give up the ring!

ERDA sinks slowly as far as the breast. The bluish light

begins to fade.

Wotan.

With mystic awe fills me thy word:

go not till more thou teilest!

Erda (disappearing).

I warned thee; thou know'st enough:

brood in care and fear!

(She completely disappears.)

Wotan.

If then care shall torment me,

thee must I capture, all must thou tell me!

WOTAN tries to go into the chasm to stay ERDA. FROH

and FRICKA throw themselves in his way and hold him

back.

Fricka.

What wouldst thou, raging one?

Froh.

Go not, Wotan !

Touch not the Wala, heed well her words!

Donner (turning to the giants with resolution).

Hear, ye giants! come back, and wait ye!

the gold shall be your guerdon.

Freia.

Dare I then hope it?

Deem ye Holda truly such ransom worth?

(All look attentively at Wotan.)

Wotan

(rousing himself from deep thought, grasps his spear and

brandishes it in token of a bold decision).

To me, Freia! Thou shalt be freed.

Bought with the gold,

bring us our youth once again!

Ye giants, take now your ring!

(He throws the ring on the hoard.)

The one who knows all that was, is, and shall be, she tells him; the ancestress of the everlasting world, older than time; the mother of the Norns who speak with Wotan nightly. Gravest danger has brought her to seek him in person. Let him hear and heed! The present order is passing away. There is dawning for the gods a dark day.... At this prophesied ruin, the music reverses the motif of ascending progression, and paints melancholy disintegration and crumbling downfall, a strain to be heard many times in the closing opera of the trilogy, when the prophecy comes to pass and the gods enter their twilight. The apparition is sinking back into the earth. Wotan beseeches it to tarry and tell him more. But with the words, "You are warned.... Meditate in sorrow and fear!" it vanishes. The masterful god attempts to follow, to wrest from the weird woman further knowledge. His wife and her brothers hold him back. He stands for a time still hesitating, uncertain, wrapped in thought. With sudden resolve at last he tosses the ring with the rest of the treasure, and turns heart-wholly to greet Freia returning among them, bringing back their lost youth. (4) The Wala, who rises from a rocky chasm, to chaunt her mysterios warning to Wotan, occurs in several of the Eddaic poems. As in the Nibelung’s Ring she is introduced unher the name of Erda, so also in the Edda she appears as the slumbering Earth, who bears hidden in her womb the seeds of all life, and hence, as the wise Wala, she knows the secrets of futurity. The origin of the word Wala—or Völva—is unknown: it signifies prophetess, and, it has been suggested, is possibly connected with the Greek sibyl. Among the old Germans and Norsemen a belief in witchcraft, in incantations, and in the gift of second sight, was very prevalent. Wise-women or Valas were wont to fare the country round, from one homestead to another, working spells and foretelling the future. Such a one was the Veleda of Tacitus (Germania, 8), who was held as a divinity by the Germans. The most important poem of the Elder Edda, the Völuspá—Vala’s soothsaying—is placed by its author in the mouth of a Vala, who tells to the sons of men tidings of the dawn and dusk of the world. But the archetype of these soothsaying women, the Ur-Wala—primal Vala—of Wagner, was the Earth, from whom all life springs and unto whom all life returns, the dead woman whom Odin’s incantation calls up from the grave to reveal the secrets of the coming time (Elder Edda, Vegtamskvidha), the Gaia of the Greeks, to whom honours were paid as the “first prophetic power” (Æschylus, Eumenides, 2). As foretellers of fate the Valas held a position related to that of the Norns or Destines, the Moiræ of Northern Mythology, and Wagner has therefore appropriately represented the latter as the daughters of the Wala, Erda. Thus, too, we find, among the various traditions respecting the origin of the Moiræ, one in which they are regarded as the offspring of Earth and Ocean; while again, Themis, the Goddess of Law, who, in a passage of Hesiod, is described as their mother, may fitly be compared, as an Earth-born prophetic divinity, with the Erda of Wagner’s poem. (3)

The curse of the ring is instantly operative; for, in a quarrel

over its possession, Fafner slays his brother Fasolt. The Curse

Motive is heard and the Nibelungs baleful syncopations. (2)

(The giants let Freia go; she hastens joyfully towards the

gods, who for some time caress her by turns in greatest

delight.)

(Fafner spreads out an immense sack and attacks the

hoard to pack it in it.)

FASOLT (throwing himself in his brother's way).

Softly, hungerer! Some of it hither!

Both for a wholesome half were the better.

FAFNER.

More to the maid than the gold

hadst thou not given thy heart?

With toil I brought thy taste to the bargain.

Would'st thou have wooed

but half of Freia at once ?

Halve I the hoard, rightly I hold

the roundest sack for myself.

FASOLT.

Slandering rogue! Rail at me so?

(To the gods.)

Try the matter between us;

halve for us meetly here the hoard!

(Wotan turns contemptuously away.)

LOGE.

The rest leave to Fafner;

light with thy fist on the ring!

FASOLT (falls upon Fafner, who meanwhile has been

vigorously packing his sack).

Withhold, thou meddler! Mine is the hoop;

I got it for Freia's glance.

(He grasps sharply at the ring.)

FAFNER.

Forth with thy fist! My right is first!

(They struggle; Fasolt wrenches the ring from Fafner.)

FASOLT.

Mine wholly have I made it!

FAFNER.

Hold it fast! Might it not fall?

The giants let FREIA go: she hastens joyfully to the gods,

who for some time caress her in turn, with the greatest

delight.

Fafner spreads out an enormous sack and sets himself to

pack the hoard into it.

Fasolt (opposing Fafner).

Stay, thou greedy one! Something give me too!

Justice in sharing fits us brothers.

Fafner.

More for the maid than the gold

hungered thy love-sick look;

I scarce could bring thee, fool, to the bargain;

as, without sharing,

Freia thou wouldst have wooed,

if now I share, trust me to seize

on the greater half for myself!

Fasolt.

Shame on thee, thief! Tauntest thou me? —

(to the gods):

You call I as judges:

say how the hoard shall justly be halved!

(WOTAN turns contemptuously away.)

Loge.

The hoard let him ravish;

hold but thou fast to the ring!

Fasolt (throws himself on FAFNER, who has, meanwhile,

been busily packing up).

Away! Thou rascal! mine is the ring,

mine was it for Freia's glance!

(He snatches hastily at the ring.)

Fafner.

Touch thou it not! the ring is mine!

(They struggle together. FASOLT wrests the ring from

FAFNER.)

Fasolt.

I have it, fast I hold it!

Fafner.

Hold it fast lest it should fall!

While the gods are expressing tender rapture over the restoration of Freia, and she goes from one to the other receiving their caresses, Fafner spreads open a gigantic sack and in this is briskly stuffing the gold. Fasolt, otherwise preoccupied, had not thought to bring a sack. He attempts to stay Fafner's too active hand. "Hold on, you grasping one, leave something for me! An honest division will be best for us both!" Fafner objects, "You, amorous fool, cared more for the maid than the gold. With difficulty I persuaded you to the exchange. You would have wooed Freia without thought of division, wherefore in the division of the spoil I shall still be generous if I keep the larger half for myself." Fasolt's anger waxes great. He calls upon the gods to judge between them and divide the treasure justly. Wotan turns from his appeal with characteristic contempt. Loge, the mischief-lover, whispers to Fasolt, "Let him take the treasure, do you but reserve the ring!" Fafner has during this not been idle, but has sturdily filled his sack; the ring is on his hand. Fasolt demands it in exchange for Freia's glance. He snatches at it, Fafner defends it, and when in the wrestling which ensues Fasolt has forced it from his brother, the latter lifts his tree-trunk and strikes him dead. Having taken the ring from his hand, he leisurely proceeds to finish his packing, while the gods stand around appalled, and the air shudderingly resounds with the notes of the curse. A long, solemn silence follows. Fafner is seen, after a time, shouldering the sack, into which the whole of the glimmering Hort has disappeared, and, bowed under its weight, leaving for home. "Dreadful," says Wotan, deeply shaken; "I now perceive to be the power of the curse!" Sorrow and fear lie crushingly upon his spirit. Erda, who warned him of the power of the curse, now proven before his eyes, warned him likewise of worse things, of old order changing, a dark day dawning for the gods. He must seek Erda, learn more, have counsel what to do. He is revolving such thoughts when Fricka, who believes all their trouble now ended, approaches him with sweet words, and directs his eyes to the beautiful dwelling hospitably awaiting its masters. "An evil price I paid for the building!" Wotan replies heavily. Soon these motives are interrupted by the Giant and Nibelung

motives, there being added to these later the Motive of the

Nibelungs‘ Hate and the Ring Motive. Alberich‘s curse is

already beginning its dread work. The giants dispute over the

spoils, their dispute waxes to strife, and at last Fafner slays

Fasolt and snatches the ring from the dying giant. As the gods

gaze horror-stricken upon the scene, the Curse Motive

resounds with crushing force. Loge congratulates Wotan that

he should have given up the curse-laden ring. His words are

accompanied by the Motive of the Nibelungs‘ Hate. Yet even

Fricka‘s caresses, as she asks Wotan to lead her into Walhalla,

cannot divert the god‘s mind from dark thoughts, and the

Curse Motive accompanies his gloomy, curse-haunted

reflections. (1)

(He strikes madly at Fasolt with his stake, and stretches

him, with a blow on the ground; as he dies he snatches the

ring from him.)

Now freely at Freia blink;

with the ring at rest I shall be!

(He puts the ring in the sack, and then leisurely packs the

whole hoard. All the gods stand horrified. Long solemn

silence.)

WOTAN.

Fiercely comes before me the curse's force!

LOGE.

Thy luck, Wotan,

will not be likened!

Much was reaped

when thou met'st with the ring:

but its good is still

greater since it is gone,

for their fellows, see,

slaughter thy foes

for the gold that thou forego'st.

WOTAN (deeply moved).

Still misgivings unstring me!

A threatening fear fetters my thought;

how to end it Erda shall help me;

to her down I must haste!

FRICKA (pressing caressingly to hint).

What weighs on Wotan?

Sweetly await the soaring walls to draw

with welcome wide and warmly their doors.

WOTAN.

I bought with blameful pay the abode!

DONNER

(pointing to the background, which is still veiled in mist).

Harassing warmth hangs in the wind;

ill for breath is the burdened air;

its lowering weight

shall lighten with scattering weather,

to sweep the sky for me sweet.

(He has mounted a high rock in the slope of the-valley, and

begins to swing his hammer.)

FAFNER strikes out with his staff and with one blow

stretches FASOLT on the ground: from the dying man he

then hastily wrests the ring.

Now gloat thou on Freia's glance!

For the ring see'st thou no more!

He puts the ring into the sack and quietly goes on packing

the hoard. All the gods stand horrified. A long solemn

silence.

Wotan.

Fearful now, appeareth the curse's power!

Lege.

Thy luck, Wotan,

where were its equal?

Much was gained

when the ring thou didst win;

but that now thou hast lost

it boots thee yet more:

for thy foemen, see!

murder their friends

for the gold thou hast let go.

Wotan (deeply stirred).

What dark boding doth bind me?

Care and fear fetter my soul —

how I may end them, teach me, then, Erda!

to her must I descend!

Fricka (caressing him cajolingly).

Where stray'st thou, Wotan?

Lures thee not friendly the fortress proud?

Now it awaits with kindly shelter its lord.

Wotan.

With evil wage paid was the work!

Donner (pointing to the background which is still wrapped

in a veil of mist).

Sultrily mists float in the air;

heavy hangeth the gloomy weight!

Ye hovering clouds,

come now with lightning and thunder

and sweep the heavens clear!

DONNER has mounted on a high rock by the precipice and

now swings his hammer.

26. The Donner Motive (Thor’s Storm Magic) Mists are still hanging over the valley, clinging to the heights; nor have the clouds yet wholly lifted from their spirits. Donner, to clear the atmosphere, conjures a magnificent storm, by the blow of his hammer bringing about thunder and lightning. When the black cloud disperses which for a moment enveloped him and Froh on the high rock from which he directs this festival of the elements, a bright rainbow appears, forming a bridge between the rock and the castle now shining in sunset light. A bridge of music is here built, too; the tremulous weaving of it in tender and gorgeous colours is seen through the ear, and its vaulting the valley with an easy overarching spring. Froh, architect of the bridge, bids the gods walk over it fearlessly: It is light but will prove solid under their feet. (4) The first-fruits of Alberich’s curse appear when the Giant Fafner slays, for the Ring’s sake, his brother Fasolt. As Fafner departs from the scene, Donner, the Thunder-God, purifies with a violent storm the sultry, fog-laden atmosphere; then, as he calls on his brother, the Sun-God Froh, the sun bursts forth in its splendor, while its rays are reflected in the rainbow-bridge, over which the Gods now pass in solemn processon into their fastness. The conception of this bridge is derived from the Edda, and includes, I believe, a reference to the swift passing away of their glory and power. The Wala’s warning that a day of doom is impending over the Deities has sunk deep into Wotan’s mind, and has there given rise to a new resolve, which is for the present indicated only by a musical theme from the orchestra, and by the introduction, for the first time into the text, of the name “Walhall.” This resolve, which hereafter we shall see carried out, is to strengthen the dominion of the Gods by the creation of the heroic principle in man, and by filling Walhall for its defence with the souls of the slain heroes (the word Walhall means the Hall of the Slain in battle); the souls, that is, of the brave of all ages, who have put their trust in, and striven to uphold, dogmatic creeds. (3)

Fricka coaxes Wotan to the newly-built and dearly-bought

castle (Motives of Enchantment of Love and Valhalla). Donner

summons a thunder storm to clear the air and the gloom that

hangs over all. With the gathering clouds is heard Donner’s

Storm Magic. The storm clears; a bright rainbow is seen

spanning the abyss between the cliff and the heights of

Valhalla. The Rainbow is prefigured by an iridescent play of

instrumental tone color in the orchestra. (2)

Donner ascends to the top of a lofty rock to the crashing

refrains of the DONNER MOTIVE. He gathers the mists about

him until he is enveloped by a black cloud. He swings his

hammer. There is a flash of lightning, a crash of thunder, and

lo! the cloud vanishes. A rainbow bridge spans the valley to

Walhalla, which is illumined by the setting sun. Wotan

eloquently greets Walhall, and then, taking Fricka by the hand,

leads the procession of the gods into the castle. (1)

Heyda! Heyda! To me with you, mists!

In crowd at my call!

Hark how your lord hails for his host!

At the hammer's swing sweep to me here!

Heyda! Heyda! Deepen the dark!

Donner hails for his host!

(The clouds have drawn themselves round him together; he

disappears entirely in a mass of storm-cloud that gradually

becomes denser and darker. Then the blow of his hammer

is heard falling heavily on the rock; strong lightning leaps

from the cloud; a violent thunder-clap follows.)

Brother, to me!

Mark out its way for the bridge!

(Froh has disappeared with him in the cloud. Suddenly it

draws asunder; Donner and Froh become visible; from

their feet, in blinding brightness, a rainbow bridge

stretches over the valley to the castle, that now, lighted by

the evening sun, shines in clearest splendour.)

(Fafner, near his brother's corpse, having at last packed

the whole hoard into the great sack, has, during Donner s

storm-spell, put it on his back and left the stage.)

FROH.

Though built lightly looks it,

fast and fit is the bridge;

it helps your feet without fear to the hall!

WOTAN.

Evening eyelight aims the sun;

its sinking stream strikes widely the walls;

when they led the morning's look into laughter,

lone and masterless, lost and luring they lay.

From morning to evening, with easeless mind

and might worked I to win them!

The night is near;

her hatred now ward from my head the walls!

So hail to the hall!

Shelter from shame and harm!

(To Fricka.)

Follow me, wife!

To Walhall find we the way!

(He takes her hand.)

FRICKA.

What sense is inside it?

The name till now was unsounded.

Heda! Heda! To me, all ye mists!

Ye vapours, to me!

Donner, your lord, calleth his hosts!

At his hammer's swing hitherward sweep!

Heda! Heda! Vapours and fogs!

Donner, your lord, calleth his hosts!

During the following the mists collect round him. He

disappears entirely in an ever-darkening and thickening

thundercloud. The stroke of his hammer is heard to fall

heavily on the rock. A vivid flash of lightning comes from

the cloud; a violent clap of thunder follows.

Brother, to me!

Shew them the way o'er the bridge!

FROH has also disappeared in the clouds. Suddenly the

clouds disperse; DONNER and FROH become visible:

from their feet a rainbow bridge stretches with blinding

radiance across the valley to the castle which now glows in

the light of the setting sun.

Fafner beside his brother's corpse has at length packed up

the whole hoard and with the great sack on his shoulders

has left the stage during Donner's summons to the storm.

Froh.

The bridge leads you homeward,

light yet firm to your feet:

now tread undaunted its terrorless path!

Wotan (and the other gods contemplate the glorious sight,

speechless).

Golden at eve the sunlight gleameth;

in glorious light glow fastness and fell.

In the morning's radiance, bravely it glistened,

lying lordless there, proudly luring my feet.

From morning till evening, in care and fear,

unblest, I worked for its winning!

The night is nigh:

from all its ills shelter it offers now.

So — greet I the home,

safe from dismay and dread!

(to FRICKA.)

Follow me, wife!

In Walhall dwell now with me.

Fricka.

What meaneth the name, then?

Strange 'tis methinks to my hearing.

27. The Rainbow Motive / 28. The Sword Motive

The music of this scene is of wondrous beauty. Six harps are

added to the ordinary orchestral instruments, and as the

varietgated bridge is seen their arpeggios shimmer like the

colors of the rainbow around the broad, majestic RAINBOW

MOTIVE. Then the stately Walhalla Motive resounds as the

gods gaze, lost in admiration, at the hall. It gives way to the

Ring Motive as Wotan speaks of the day‘s ills; and then as he

is inspired by the idea of begetting a race of demi-gods to

conquer the Nibelungs, there is heard for the first tiem the

SWORD MOTIVE. (1)

Wotan stands sunk in contemplation of the castle; his reflections, still upon the shameful circumstances of his bargain, are not happy. In the midst of them he is struck by a great thought, and recovers his courage and hardihood. The sharp, bright, resolute motif which represents his inspiration is afterward indissolubly connected with the Sword,—a sword aptly embodying his idea, which is one of defence for his castle and clan. A suggestion of his idea is contained, too, in the word which he gives to Fricka as the castle's name, when he now invites her to accompany him thither: Walhalla, Hall of the Slain in Battle, or, Hall of Heroes. (4)

The gods gaze on the glorious sight, as the music increases in

richness and intensity; Wotan apostrophizes the castle as the

shelter of the gods from approaching night. Then he is as

though seized by a great thought—and that thought is

expressed by the brillian and energetic intonation by the

orchestra of the Sword Motive. The thought is of a hero that he

will beget to save the race of the gods, represented thus by his

all-conquering sword. The score contains no stage directions

at this point; the present day tradition at Bayreuth directs that

Wotan shall stoop, pick up and brandish a sword that has been

presumably left over from the Nibelung’s hoard (?), thus

grossly materializing a poetic idea much better left to be

suggested by the music. (2)

Headed by Wotan and Fricka, the gods ascend toward the bridge. Loge looks after them in mingled irony and contempt. "There they hasten to their end, who fancy themselves so firmly established in being. I am almost ashamed to have anything to do with them...." And he resolves in his mind a scheme for turning into elemental fire again and burning them all up, those blind gods. He is nonchalantly adding himself to their train, when from the Rhine below rises the lament of the Rhine-daughters, begging that their gold may be given back to them. Wotan pauses with his foot on the bridge: "What wail is that?" Loge enlightens him, and, at Wotan's annoyed, "Accursed nixies! Stop their importunity!" calls down to them, "You, down there in the water, what are you complaining about? Hear what Wotan bids: No longer having the gold to shine for you, make yourselves happy basking in the sunshine of this new pomp of the gods!" Loud laughter from the gods greets this sally, and they pass over the bridge, Walhalla-ward, followed by the water-nymphs' wail for their lost gold, closing with the reproach, "Only in the pleasant water-depths is truth;

WOTAN.

What, in might over fear,

my manfulness found,

shall matchlessly live

and lead the meaning to light !

(Wotan and Fricka walk towards the bridge; Froh and

Freia follow next, then Donner.)

LOGE

(lingering in ttie foreground and looking after the gods).

To their end they fleetly are led,

who believe themselves founded for ever.

Almost I shame to mix in their matters;

in flustering fire afresh to be loosened

a lurking fondness I feel.

To swallow the teachers who settled me tame,

rather than blindly blend in their wreck,

though godliest gods I may think them,

no fool's thought were it found!

I'll deem about it; who bodes what I do?

(He proceeds leisurely to join the gods. Out of the depth is

heard the song of the Rhine-daughters, sounding upwards.)

THE THREE RHINE-DAUGHTERS.

Rhinegold! Guiltless gold!

How bright and unbarred

was to us once thy beam!

We mourn thy loss that lone has made us!

Give us the gold, O bring us the gleam of it back!

WOTAN (just about to set his foot on the bridge, stops and

turns round).

Whose sorrow reaches me so?

LOGE.

The river-maidens,

who grieve for their missing gold.

WOTAN.

The cursed Nodders !

Keep me clear of their noise!

LOGE (calling down into the valley).

You in the water, why yearn you and weep?

Hear from Wotan a hope

Gleams no more the gold to the maids,

may the gods, with strengthened glory,

sun them sweetly instead!

Wotan.

What my spirit has found

to master my dread,

when triumph is won —

maketh the meaning clear.

He takes FRICKA bv the hand and walks slowly with her

towards the bridge: FROH, FREIA and DONNER follow.

Loge

(remaining in the foreground and looking after the gods).

They are hasting on to their end who now

deem themselves strong in their greatness.

Ashamed am I to share in their dealings;

to flickering fire again to transform me,

fancy lureth my will:

to burn and waste them who bound me erewhile,

rather than blindly sink with the blind —

e'en were they of gods the most godlike —

not ill were it, meseems!

I must bethink me: who knows what may hap?

He goes, assuming a careless manner, to join the gods.

The three RHINE-DAUGHTERS in the valley.

The Three Rhine-daughters.

Rhinegold! Guileless gold!

How brightly and clear

shimmered thy beams on us!

For thy pure lustre now lament we:

give us the gold, o give us its glory again!

Wotan (preparing to set his foot on the bridge, stops and

turns round).

What plaints come hither to me?

Loge.

The river children

bewailing the stolen gold.

Wotan.

Accursed nixies!

Cease their clamourous taunts.

Loge (calling down towards the valley).

Ye in the water! why wail ye to us?

Hear what Wotan doth grant!

Gleams no more on you maidens the gold,

in the newborn godly splendour

bask ye henceforth in bliss!

false and cowardly are those making merry up there!" With Walhalla and rainbow shedding a radiance around them of which we are made conscious through the delighted sense of hearing, the curtain falls.

29. The Valhalla Motive But the cunning Loge knows that the curse must do its work,

even if not until the distant future; and hence as he remains in

the foreground looking after the gods, the Loge and Ring

Motives are heard. The cries of the Rhine-daughters greet

Wotan. They beg him to restore the ring to them, but Wotan is

deaf to their entreaties. He preferred to give the ring to the

giants rather han forfeit Freia. The WALHALLA MOTIVE swells

to a majestic climax and the gods enter the castle. Amid

shimmering arpeggios the Rainbow Motive resounds. The

gods have attained the height of their glory—but the

Nibelung‘s curse is still potent, and it will bring woe upon all

who have possessed or will possess the ring until it is restored

to the Rhine-daughters. Fasolt was only the first victim of

Alberich‘s curse. (1) So we lose sight of them, moving into their new house; in spite of their glory a little like the first family of the county. But while to triumphant strains they seek their serene stronghold, we know that the lines have been laid for disaster. The Ring is in the world, with its terrific power; and there is in the world one whom wrong has turned into a deadly enemy, whose soul is undividedly bent upon getting possession of the Ring, which Wotan may not himself attempt to get —stopped, if not by Erda's warning or by terror of the curse, by the fact that he finally gave it to the giants in payment of an acknowledged debt, and that his spear stands precisely for honor in relations of the sort. (4)

The battlements of the fortress glitter in the light of the evening sun, and a lingering lament over the loss of the sinless serenity of the Golden Age is heard in the sweet song of the Rhine-maidens as this prologue of the drama ends. (3) The Valhalla Motive resounds, and the gods start to walk over

the rainbow arch to the castle. Loge, left behind, is ashamed to

share in their dealings. ―They are hastening on to their end,‖

he says, yet he joins the celestial procession. As they cross the

river, below them are heard the Rhine daughters lamenting the

loss of their gold (Praise of the Rhine Gold, Rhine Gold

fanfare). The gods smile, but pass on in majestic company,

while the full power of the orchestra intones the Valhalla

Motive and the Rainbow Motive; and so the Prelude to the

Trilogy is closed. (2) The building of the rainbow-bridge by the gods themselves is in accordance with the mythological tradition; according to this, the rainbow binds heaven and earth together, and over it the gods ride daily to their seat of judgment by Urd’s Brunnen, the spring which waters the roots of the world-ash Ygdrassil. The home of the gods is in Asgard, with its twelve Himmels-burgen; of these,

(The gods laugh aloud and step on to the bridge.)

THE RHINE-DAUGHTERS (from the depth).

Rhinegold! Guiltless gold!

O would that thy light

in the wave had been left alive!

Trustful and true is what dwells in the depth;

faint and false of heart what is happy on high!

(As all the gods are crossing the bridge to the castle, the

curtain falls.)

The gods laugh and cross the bridge during the following.

The Rhine-daughters.

Rhinegold! Guileless gold!

O would that thy treasure

were glittering yet in the deep!

Tender and true 'tis but in the waters:

false and base are all who revel above!

As the gods cross the bridge to the castle the curtain falls.

according to the Grimnersmal, a song found in the Edda, Gladsheim is the fifth, and within Gladsheim is Walhalla, where Odin has his high seat. Of the swellers in Walhalla we will speak more fully further on; here it is sufficient to say that the root of the name is the word Wal, signifying choice; the slain in war are the elect, chosen of Odin, hence a very general name for a battlefield is Wal-statt or Wal-platz. With this entrance of the gods into Walhalla, Wagner closes the introduction to his Trilogy; the Himmels-burg is built, and the giants are baffled; but the love of gold has already touched with baleful hands the gods, the golden age of their innocence is over; their solemn pledge has been evaded, the fatal theft is accomplished, and the curse has already begun its work. How the evil destiny unrolls itself with relentless force, till it involves gods and men alike in one common ruin, is told in the succeeding drama. (5)