THE SLEEP OF BRUNNHILDE
Thus the wild storm of the ride of the Valkyries passed away. Like
smoke they were borne away on the wings of the tempest, and a windless
calm fell round about the place where Wotan and Brunnhilde abode on the
mountain-top. The sun was already set, though still to westwards there
lingered the reflected fires of its setting, and star by star came out
in the deepening vault of blue overhead, until all heaven was spangled
with their burning and grew bright at eventide. Eastward rose the moon
at its fullest, to climb its silent and appointed journey over the
firmament, and shone with a light exceeding bright and clear as running
water. In the brake the chorus of birds was hushed, and over hill and
valley spread and deepened the spring night. Such a night indeed it was
as that on which, but one sunset ago, had Siegmund come to the house of
Hunding-through the storms which day-long had lashed the hillsides; and
now, even as then, the storm was hushed, and deep peace lay over the
earth. Yet swiftly the finger of fate had written, and swift had been
the accomplishment of that decree, for lover lay dead and husband also,
while through the gloomy forest hurried Sieglinde eastwards, to shield
that which lay within her from the wrath of Wotan. And she, Brunnhilde,
that had befriended the lover and his beloved, lay very still at the
feet of her father making a darkness for her eyes, for on her head had
the wrath come, and stern and terrible was her punishment. For lightly
had she recked of his godhead and his holy behest, and by the maiden of
his will had his will been betrayed; thus she was will-maiden to him
no longer, and should wayfarer hap on her, not maid but woman, for so
had the word gone forth from Wotan's mouth. Long time then sat the god
there motionless with the crouched figure of her he loved at his feet,
but at the last she raised her head, and essayed to meet the eyes that
met not hers, and slowly she spoke.
"Is in truth my fault so vile and shameful," said she, "that with so
shameful a visitation thou must needs reward it? Time was when high on
the sunlit cliff of godhead I stood with thee, and have I now by my sin
cast myself down so utterly to the slime and horror of the nethermost
pit, that viler phantoms than Hella ever knew must flap their wings of
darkness round me? Surely it is not possible that in one moment I so
put off all the worth that ever was mine, all which I had from thee,
that a fate so unworthy fits me."
Yet still the god looked not at her, and Brunnhilde nigh despaired.
Yet alone with him, for the twain were indeed not two but one, she
could beseech and entreat him, though before her sisters she thought
shame to do so, and slowly the words were wrung from her, like dropping
blood from some deep-welling wound.
"Father, father!" she cried, "look once again in mine eyes, and let
the light of thine dwell once more on my face, and search it well and
remember what has been, and let not the loving-kindness of old days
be forgotten. So, maybe, shall thy wrath not burn so fiercely against
me, and thy anger be assuaged. Cast the strong and clear light of thy
knowledge on the sin I have committed, and look well at it to see if
indeed it merits this doom, so that thy child must be for ever forsaken
by thee, and her love no more brought to remembrance."
Then looked he at her, but no ray shot across the sombre gloom of his
face.
"Look at thy sin thyself," said he, "and let thy mind be to thee a
lantern that illumines it. Mark it carefully, and know fully indeed
what thou hast done. What need for me to tell thee. Thou knowest."
Then did Brunnhilde ponder on all they had said together the night
before concerning the Wolsungs, and how Wotan's mind ere yet he had
talked with Fricka had been to save Siegmund and destroy Hunding, for
he was husband to Sieglinde only by name and vow, while Siegmund was
the man she loved, and how he had commanded herself to fight well for
Siegmund.
"Time was," she said, "when thou wert on Siegmund's side, and by thy
side was I, as ever. It was the word that thou saidst to me then which
was in my heart when I fought for him."
But the cloud moved not from Wotan's face, but sat throned there
heavily.
"Hotfoot from speech with me thou wentest to the battle," said he.
"Was the word of mine that then rang in thy ears to do as thou didst
do?"
"Yet when first the lot was cast," said the maid, "the lot of death
declared for Bunding."
"It was so," said he. "But the bidding I gave thee then I revoked,
and thou knowest it. Yea, and thou didst know it even when the sin of
disobedience was red upon thee."
"But who changed the mind that erst was in thee?" said she. "Of
thyself thou didst not change it, but Fricka inclined thee to her will,
breaking asunder the resolve that thou hadst made. Her whim it was
that swayed thy mind; nor was I the first foe to thy will, but thou
thyself, when the unalterable word that thou hadst spoken was changed
and twisted and made of nought because so the whim of Fricka would have
it."
Then was Wotan even more sore at heart, for he had thought that
Brunnhilde had known his will to the full, but with open eyes had
disobeyed it. Yet this was worse, in that she thought him infirm of
purpose and easily swayed, and here lay treason to him.
But she, though no word came from him, yet fathomed his thought, and to
that unspoken thought made reply.
"Father, I am not wise as thou art," she said, "but this I knew,
that thou didst love the Wolsung who sprang from thy loins, and I
thought that thy strife of words with Fricka had blinded thy mind
and bewildered thy sense, so that in that moment thou wast unmindful
of him. And it was a bitter thing to my heart to see Siegmund stand
unprotected and outside the range of thy protecting arm, for thou didst
ever love him, and in nought had he disobeyed thy word; though to
Fricka's mind he had done amiss."
But Wotan's face still gloomed above her.
"Ah, thou didst know, thou didst know what way my choice had gone, and
that which determined me concerned thee not," he said; "and knowing
that, thou wert at Siegmund's side with the guard and shelter of thy
shield, thou didst range thyself against me and against the word that
had gone forth from my lips."
Then Brunnhilde knew there was only one thing left as yet unspoken by
her by which might the doom that he had decreed upon her be averted.
So that last arrow left in her sheaf she drew. For ever Wotan had been
a friend to love, whether among the gods or among the race of men whom
his might sustained and his pity upheld. So now, since for the first
time the comprehension of love had reached her, when that morning
she saw Siegmund recked nought of what might be done to him, but
considered--only that he might not be bereft of his wife Sieglinde, and
thus thought scorn of Walhalla's blisses, if so be she was not there to
share them with him, so Brunnhilde thought that even now at the last
Wotan might perchance pity her for that which he knew so well, for the
sake of the love to which he was ever friend.
"It is true, it is true," she said, "but there is yet one thing thou
dost not know. For when at thy bidding I first drew near to Siegmund
bearing swift death for him, and having no thought in my mind of pity
for him or of disobedience to thy word, my soul was melted when I saw
how it was with him, and heard him speak. Then knew I that he was a
hero, for no fear at all was his, neither of swift bright-eyed death,
nor even of Hella itself, and knew I also that one overmastering need
beset his soul, and that was his love for Sieglinde. And my heart made
obeisance to his love, and reverenced it, and hence was pity born.
Behold, his tongue was a trumpet, and the grief that was his he blared
forth, and none heard him but I. The splendid sorrow of love that
reached as high as the heavens had in his heart its everlasting seat,
and that love throned; there thought scorn of all else, and to the
terrors with which I threatened him his ear was utterly deaf. These
things, father, I heard and saw, and as I hearkened and beheld, the
might of that defenceless man shook the fortress walls that until then
had ever girded my heart, and they tottered and fell, and lo! I was
open to the invader. Thy godhead and thy nature that is mine, died, and
as a maiden of mortal birth and human sufferings I stood before him,
lost in one thought, how could I help him."
Again she made pause and drew closer to Wotan's knee.
"Father, who had given me the love that then burned in my breast?" she
whispered. "Was it not thy will, thy will which had bade me guard the
Wolsung? Indeed, so it seemed to me, it was thy will, and, even though
it agreed not with the word that thou didst give me, was it not thy
will that even then directed me against thy word?"
But though all the anger had burned out of the face of Wotan, yet was
it still stern and set like a mask of marble. And when Brunnhilde had
done:
"Hast thou aught more to say, my daughter?" he asked, and her silence
answered him.
Then said he--
"Listen once again then, before we make an end. Love seems to thee
then a light thing that thou canst turn to it so, for thou dost not
know aught of its flames and its sorrows as I know them. Nor dost
thou know, thou whom I thought ever to be the maiden of my will, how
I myself sided against myself, and of the secret pangs and agonies
that were mine. Ah, Brunnhilde, I have suffered, I have suffered;
faint I have often been and wounded, and wants that I cannot quench,
and wishes that I cannot bridle have brought me to this, that my will
wavers. Here is the wreck of my world, here is to me a grief that will
not sleep. And thou for a worldly love--and herein is thy crime--hast
choked the well of my love for thee. For in that love I rested and was
content, for delight and laughter have been thy food, and deep thou
hast ever drunk of our love which was untainted with the human passion
and hunger which now thou callest love. In that and in thee found I
my solace and rest, when the strife of the gods made me bitter and of
uneasy heart. For dark settles around us, and black wings of fate but
dimly seen hover near. And thou, in this hour, by thine own choice,
thou hast deserted and forsaken me. Thou hast chosen thine own way when
my will was otherwise. Thus it is of thy own choice that our parting
draws nigh, and no more may thy nature mix with mine, nor ever again
shall we hold sweet converse together touching things high and great,
dealing wisely with them in loving whispers. Thou thyself hast chosen;
therefore must I henceforth work without thy help and communion, and
while life and light endure, no more shall our hearts leap towards one
another in joyous greeting."
Meantime while they talked together had the full moon of spring risen
high into the night, and Brunnhilde with heart that wandered for a
moment from its woes bethought herself, as she looked on the earth
she so loved, that never again would she see it with eyes of sight
divine. And like an echo from far off it came upon her that even now
high in Walhalla were the tables for feasting set, yet all were waiting
till Wotan should come. Soon he would come, but sorrowful and alone,
and all would see that her place was empty for aye, and that another
filled the wine-cup and handed to the heroes the joy of the grape. All
this she was to leave, and her untamed heart once more bid her make a
last effort, to see if not even now could she not turn Wotan from his
purpose. For at the first the doom had so stunned her that she could
not believe it was for her, but now under the calm and sweet night that
unreality of horror began to take shape, and it was then no phantom. So
once more she turned to him.
"Worthless hast thou found me and foolish," she said, "and altogether
unprofitable. For the word which thou didst give me I scarce could
believe was thine. Yet what of the years that went before, when all thy
teaching to me was to love what thou lovest?"
But Wotan answered not, nor was his face moved, and again, in agony of
the loneliness that was coming on her, she embraced his knees and cried
to him--
"Is it so, then? Are we parted utterly, and shall our joyous
meetings be seen no more? For lo! thou dividest that which is one and
undivisible, and tearest away with a stroke a part of thine own self,
yea, thine own heart thou easiest aside. Ah, father, great father,
forget not that this, this maid of thine, was part of thyself, her life
thine, her all, thine. But now thou cuttest it off, thou thrustest
me from thee, and if that must be, is it not enough? But wilt thou
desecrate this part of thee further, and shame it as thou hast said?
That shame thou thyself wilt share. The fault was mine, but if thou
doest as thou hast said, making me the toy of men and food for their
sport and laughter, what a fall is there. And my fall is thine also."
Then answered he: "Thou hast chosen love to be thy master, and love
thou hast lightly followed like some feathered line. It is fit then
that thou follow the man who brings love to thee."
Then at the thought that she might fall a victim to some coward and
craven fellow, some bloodless braggart, again she besought him that at
the least he would promise her that the man who should win her might be
worthy of her, a man of deeds and of bravery, even as her own bravery
he knew was matchless, and her own deeds many. For great was her fall
even so, since for the blisses of Walhalla, and the endless joys of
sharing in her father's work and wisdom, she walked the earth, the wife
of a man. But if such man was a coward and the scorn of men, the doom
was not to be borne.
But Wotan's face was marble still, and he said only that she had turned
from him, nor could he make choice for her any more.
Then since he might not choose for her, Brunnhilde made choice, if so
be that her choice found favour in his eyes, and she said--
"There lives on earth, father, the race which thou thyself didst
beget, and of that blood, since it is thine, can never a coward be
born. And not far off is the day, when from that race shall be born the
noblest hero that the world shall ever know. Him name I, of the Wolsung
blood."
Then again there was anger in Wotan's eyes as he answered--
"Speak to me not of Wolsungs," said he, "for from them as from thee,
and in the self-same hour, I have parted and withdrawn myself, and my
love no longer goes before them, but hard after them follows and shall
follow my hate. Already by it have they been hunted even to the death."
Then did Brunnhilde, that nothing should be concealed between them,
tell him that by her hand was Sieglinde safe, the mighty mother of a
man that should be, in whose veins ran the pure Wolsung blood, for
Wolsung would be alike his father and his mother. And though Sieglinde
fled in fear, yet in the appointed months would she bring forth him
whom to save she fled. Moreover Sieglinde bore with her, for she
herself had given it, the sword which heir father Wotan had granted
Siegmund to find.
But when that sword was named, Wotan frowned and was afresh displeased,
for in this had he sided against himself, and bitterness lurked in the
thought.
"Broken is the blade thereof," he cried, "for against my spear which
none may withstand was it shattered, and who shall make good such a
shivering? So speak not to me of swords. But now thy time has come,
and though I have heard thee very patiently, for the love I bore thee,
yet thou seest that it is but vain to seek to sway my mind from its
course. So abide the lot which has fallen to thee, nor indeed have I
the power to change it, for thou thyself didst prefer the love of man
to the love of Wotan, and what thou hast done abides. Thy time has
come, and I must linger here with thee no longer, for already I have
lingered too long. Here for the first time and the last must I turn
from thee, even as from me thou hast turned. Nor may I learn what thou
wishest, or knowing, may not perform. Thy woe must I see fulfilled and
accomplished."
"Then name it once again," said she, "that I may hear my sentence."
And Wotan answered very solemnly--
"Here seal I thine eyes and thy limbs in deep sleep," said he, "and
sleep thou shalt, till some one of the sons of men passes by and wakes
thee. His wife shalt thou be, by right of finding."
Then Brunnhilde the Valkyrie spake for the last time, and she fell on
her knees before the god.
"I rebel not, nor murmur," said she, "and let the word thou hast
spoken be done unto me. I seek not to alter aught, but in thy love
grant me yet this. Grant me this, ere the bands of sleep press down
my eyelids and swathe my limbs, that thou wilt establish round my
resting-place some terror and hindrance that will affright the coward
and the falterer, so that none such comes near me. Let him who wins
me be at least some hero of might, man, yet not coward, for how could
Brunnhilde mate with such? Let it be such a coming I wait, and here
unmurmuring will I fall asleep on this height until he who comes awakes
me. Ah, father, father, grant me this boon, and forbid it not, else
with thy deathless spear strike at me now, even as I cling to thy
knee. Blot me out and trample on me, and let the winds scatter me over
the mountain-side, or the beasts devour me. Better were that than to
wither in the arms of a coward so leave me not unfenced against the
approach of the worm and the spider among men. So shall thy word be
fulfilled, and so shall I be saved from the nameless horror. O bid
fire to be kindled and ring me round, and let the red tower of flame
make battlement and ward for me on this rock. Set here fierce tongues
to affright the boaster, and let the hot breath of the flame drive off
the empty braggart, who fears to face the roaring of its rage. Grant me
this. It is finished."
Then for a long space did Wotan gaze into her beseeching eyes,
and thought within himself of all the beautiful days they had spent
together, which now were over and numbered with the unreturning dead,
and long he thought of the love they had ever had the one to the
other until the day of her disobedience, and a mildness came over his
almighty eyes, and he was fain to grant this boon to her, for in no way
thus would his word be broken. Then tenderly he raised her from where
she knelt, and once more his arm was round her neck, and her breath
soft and sweet swelled and made full the bosom that beat close to his.
So gazed she for the last time into his eyes, and when for the last
time she heard his voice, it was tender and full of love, and all anger
had gone from it as utterly as the spent storms had gone from the sky,
and she knew that her boon was granted to her.
[Illustration: Then tenderly he rised her from where she knelt.]
"Farewell," he said, "O noblest maiden, steadfast of heart Thou holy
solace in which my soul ever delighted, farewell, farewell! Must I
be ever far from thee and parted from, thee, and shall I never more
welcome thy coming which has aye been honey to me? Never any more must
our horses range together as we ride, nor will it be thy hand but
anothers that gives the wine-cup to me. Many days of love have we spent
together, and now leave thee, thou delight and laughter of my eyes. Yet
never has bride had for her bridal so glorious a beacon as shall burn
for thine, for presently at my word will the flame ring here thy rock,
and spread its flambent and deadly embrace to affright the coward, and
thus none but the courageous of heart shall dare to vault the fence
that shall guard thee. To one only shall it be granted to do this
thing, and he is the man who is free with a freedom that I, Wotan, know
not."
But when Brunnhilde heard his word she lifted her face to him, and
Wotan kissed her, and her eyes sought his in the last look of all. And
brokenly came Wotan's speech, for he loved her; and he kissed her on
her sweet mouth and on her eyes.
"Often thus have we done, Brunnhilde," said he, "and often have thine
eyes been closed under my kisses, and bright they have been when I
kissed them, for the light of coming battle that shone there. Often
too has the song of thy mouth, ere yet thou wert of age to go forth to
fight, been wine to the souls of my hero-warriors. O eyes of thine,
stars to me from a starry heaven, beacons to which my heart was often
lifted strong with hope, when I worked upwards from gross bewilderment
of darkness to this joyful and beauteous world! Sweet physicians of my
soul, for the last time heal me as my lips linger on you still. Happier
than I is he who next meets them, for on me no more is shed their
guiding light. Thus, even thus, I pass from thy side, and in my last
kiss thy godhead steals back from thee to him who gave it birth."
And even as he spoke, and as on her eyes and mouth the god's lips were
pressed, her eyes closed softly, and her mouth was shut, and softly she
sank, untroubled, and like a child tired with play, into his encircling
arm. And softly did Wotan take her up in his strong grasp, and softly
and very tenderly he laid her on a low mossy bank that had spread its
velvet beneath the shade of a whispering pine. Then looked he the last
time on her peaceful and sleeping face, and raising her head he put
there her helmet, and shut down the vizor, so that none could see her
face. Then he looked once more, now that her face was gone from him, at
the gentle swell of the bosom of maidenhood, and at all the beauty and
strength of her tireless limbs; and then took her steel shield and laid
it on her body, and her spear he laid lightly on her outstretched arm.
Thus all his work with her was accomplished, and there remained only
that he should fulfil the boon which he had granted her; and with firm
step he went a little space away and called with loud voice on Loge,
the flickering god of fire.
"Loge, hear!" he cried, "and arise and come hither obedient to my hand.
Come thou in waves of fire, and encompass the rock where I stand with
thy burning. Loge, Loge, up!"
At that three times he smote the rock, and where he smote up started
the spouting flames; and with his spear he pointed to the ring where
he would have the fire spring, and where he pointed there was poured
out the blaze. And when all was finished, and on all sides round
Brunnhilde, where she slept, ran the ring of fire, once more he raised
the deathless spear aloft.
"To him alone!" he cried, "who, fears not to face my spear, is it given
to break through the blaze and enter."
Then passed he unscathed through the fire, and left Brunnhilde
sleeping on the rock, till he should come whom the fire affrighted
not. But ever higher burned that unbridled blaze, and men awaking at
dead hours that night thought that this was dawn, and dawn it was, but
a dawn they dreamed not of yet. For as yet the life that lay within
Sieglinde, as she hurried eastward from the wrath of Wotan, was not
come to birth, and to none else but to the child that should be born
was it given to face the spear of Wotan, and thus by Wotan's word there
was none among all the sons of men who could face the fire that blazed
where Brunnhilde lay. And on the ridge facing the dawn lay Hunding and
Siegmund through the spring night stiff and cold to the stars, while
the maid who had saved the Wolsung's wife and the pledge of love he had
given lay beneath the stars also, but sleeping.
Thus were the loves of Siegmund and Sieglinde ended, and that which
should be their fruit was not yet come to birth.
THE END