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THE WAGNER STORY BOOK
[Illustration: "AT LAST WE CAN SEE SOMETHING IN THE FIRE."]
THE WAGNER STORY BOOK
FIRELIGHT TALES OF THE GREAT MUSIC DRAMAS
BY WILLIAM HENRY FROST
ILLUSTRATED BY SYDNEY RICHMOND BURLEIGH
To
Helen Krebbier
CONTENTS
THE STOLEN TREASURE
THE DAUGHTER OF THE GOD
THE HERO WHO KNEW NO FEAR
THE END OF THE RING
THE KNIGHT OF THE SWAN
THE PRIZE OF A SONG
THE BLOOD-RED SAIL
THE LOVE POTION
THE MINSTREL KNIGHT
THE KING OF THE GRAIL
THE ASHES
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
"AT LAST WE CAN SEE SOMETHING IN THE FIRE"
"THE GOLD SHINES OUT SO BRIGHT AND BEAUTIFUL"
"THE DAUGHTER OF THE GOD"
"THE SUNLIGHT FOLLOWS HIM STRAIGHT INTO THE CAVE"
"THEIR TREASURE IS THEIR OWN AGAIN"
"THE KNIGHT OF HER DREAM"
"HE SAW HER EYES BRIGHTER THAN THE STARS"
"THROUGH THE BLACK STORM AND HIS OWN BLACKER DESPAIR"
"AS IF THEY COULD NEVER GAZE ENOUGH"
"THE STRANGEST FLOWERS GROW UP UNDER THEIR FEET"
"THE KING OF THE GRAIL"
THE STOLEN TREASURE
There is a certain little girl who sometimes tries to find out when I
am not over busy, so that she may ask me to tell her a story. She is
kind enough to say that she likes my stories, and this so flatters my
vanity that I like nothing better than telling them to her. One reason
why she likes them, I suspect, is that they are not really my stories
at all, the most of them. They are the stories that the whole world has
known and loved all these hundreds and thousands of years, tales of the
gods and the heroes, of the giants and the goblins. Those are the right
stories to tell to children, I believe, and the right ones for children
to hear--the wonderful things that used to be done, up in the sky, and
down under the ocean, and inside the mountains. If the boys and girls
do not find out now, while they are young, all about the strange,
mysterious, magical life of the days when the whole world was young, it
is ten to one that they will never find out about it at all, for the
most of us do not keep ourselves like children always, though surely we
have all been told plainly enough that that is what we ought to do.
This little girl's mother is rather a strange sort of woman. I do not
know that she exactly disagrees with us about these stories that we
both like so much, but she seems to have a different way of looking at
them from ours. I sometimes suspect that she does not even believe in
fairies at all, that she never so much as thought she saw a ghost,
that, if she heard a dozen wild horses galloping over the roof of the
house and then flying away into the sky, she would think it was only
the wind, and that she is no more afraid of ogres than of policemen.
Still she is a woman whom one cannot help liking, in some respects.
But one day she said something to the little girl that surprised me,
and made me think that perhaps I had done her injustice. The child came
to me with a face full of perplexity and said: "What do you suppose
mamma just told me?"
"I am sure I can't guess," I replied; "your mother tells you such
ridiculous things that I am always afraid to think what will be the
next. Perhaps she says that William Tell didn't shoot an apple off his
little boy's head, or that the baker's wife didn't box King Alfred's
ears for letting the cakes burn."
"Oh, no," said the child, "it isn't a bit like that; she says that you
can see pictures in the fire sometimes--men and horses and trees and
all kinds of things."
"Does she, indeed? And how does your mother know what I can see in the
fire or what I can't see?"
"Oh, I don't mean just you--yourself, I mean anybody. Now can you? I
mean can anybody?"
"Why, yes, if that is what you mean; I think some people can. It is the
most sensible thing I have known your mother to say in a long time."
"But how can anybody see such things? Can you see them? I have been
looking at the fire ever so long, and I can't see anything at all but
just the fire, the wood, and the ashes."
"Let us look at it together," I said; and I put a chair that was big
enough to hold both of us before the fireplace. "Just see how bright
the fire is; look down into those deep places under the sticks, and see
how it glows and shines like melted gold. Now, you know when you look
into a mirror you can see pictures of the things in front of it--your
own face, the walls of the room, the furniture. That is because the
mirror is so bright that it reflects these things; yet the mirror is
not bright enough to reflect anything except what is there before it,
such things as you can see with your eyes and touch with your hands.
But the fire can do better than that, for it is a great deal brighter
than the mirror, and it is so bright that it can reflect thoughts. So
you must think of the pictures first, and then, if you know just how to
look for them in the fire, you will find them reflected there, and
after a little while you will be surprised at the wonderful things you
will see."
"I don't know what you mean at all," said the child; "tell me what you
can see in the fire now."
"Very well. Suppose, then, first, that you almost close your eyes, but
not quite, so that you will not see the fire so plainly, and it will
all run together and look dim and misty. When I look at it in that way
it seems to me to be fire no more, but water. It is as if we were down
under a broad, deep river, and could see all the mass of water slowly
eddying and whirling and flowing on above us, with just the little glow
and glimmer of brightness that come down from the daylight and the air
above. But there is one little spot that is brighter, right in the
middle of the fire, where you see that one little yellow flame all by
itself. In my picture, it is like a big lump of pure gold, resting on a
point of rock that stands straight up from the bottom of the river. It
is really gold, and magic gold at that, for you know wonderful
treasures often lie at the bottoms of rivers. One of the wonderful
things about this gold is that, if anybody could have a ring made of
it, he could compel everybody else to obey him and serve him, and could
rule the whole world.
"Three forms I can see now moving backward and forward, and up and
down, and around and around about the gold. Now they grow a little
clearer. They are river nymphs, or something of the sort, and they are
here to guard the gold, lest anybody should try to steal it. It would
not be easy to steal, even if it had no guard, and knowing this has
perhaps made these pretty keepers a little careless about it, so that
now, instead of watching it very closely, they are swimming and diving
and circling about, trying to catch one another, having the jolliest
time in the world, and never thinking that there may be danger near."
"And you can see all those things in the fire?" said the little girl.
"I can't see any of them. How do you see them?"
"Just as I told you at first, by thinking of them and then seeing the
thoughts reflected there."
"Well, tell me some more."
"Look at that little dark spot under the fire. When I look at it in the
way I have told you, it is the form of a dwarf. He is ugly and rough-
looking, he is crooked, and he has a wicked face. He slips and tumbles
slowly along, till he catches sight of the water nymphs, and they look
so pretty and graceful and happy, as they chase one another about and
up and down and around, that his cruel little eyes light up with
pleasure, and he calls to them that he should like to come up and play
with them too."
"Oh, now I don't believe any of it at all," said the child; "I thought
just for a little while you might know how to see all those funny
things in the fire, but you can't hear people talk in the fire."
"Oh, my dear child, you don't know very much about the fire if you
think I can't see anything I want to in it, or hear anything I want to
either. I tell you I can hear what this dwarf says, just as plainly as
I can see him walk about. Still, if you don't believe any of it and
don't care to know about the dwarf and the nymphs and the gold, perhaps
you might better go and study your multiplication table, and I will
find something else to do."
"Oh, but I do want to know about them. Please tell me some more. What
do the nymphs say to the dwarf? Can you hear that too?"
"Of course I can hear it; they call to him to come up and play with
them if he likes, and he clambers up over the rocks and trees to catch
one of them after another, while they swim and glide away from him, and
find it much better fun than chasing one another. It is good fun, no
doubt, for the dwarf cannot swim like them, but only scrambles about in
the most ridiculous way, with never any hope of catching one of them,
except when she lets him come near her for a moment, to plague him by
slipping away again quite out of his reach. At last he gets thoroughly
tired and discouraged and angry, while the three sisters laugh at him
and taunt him and chatter with one another, and have clearly enough
forgotten all about the gold that they are supposed to be watching.
"But see now how much brighter the fire is getting. It makes me think
that something must have happened up above the river. The sun must have
risen, or something of that sort, for everything looks clearer and the
gold shines out so bright and beautiful, that the blear-eyed dwarf
himself sees it and forgets all about trying to catch water nymphs in
wondering what it is. He asks the nymphs, and they tell him about the
ring that could be made of it if only it could be stolen from them; but
it is of no use for him to try, they say, because it is a part of the
magic of the gold that it can never be stolen except by some one who
loves nobody in the world and has sworn that he will never love
anybody, and it is clear enough that the dwarf is in love with all
three of them at this very minute. When such a strange treasure as this
was to be guarded, it was no doubt very clever to set three such
beautiful creatures as these to watch it, for if a thief were not in
love already, it is a hundred to one that he would be before he got
near enough to the gold to steal it.
"But the nymphs do not understand at all how much more a heartless
little monster like this dwarf loves the glitter of gold than he could
ever possibly love them. So, even while they are laughing at him, he is
forgetting them completely, and then he swears a deep oath that as long
as he lives he will never love any living thing. Now, if you can think
of anything that anybody could do more wicked, more horrible, more
cruel than that, you must know a great deal more about wicked and
horrible things than you have any right to know. After that every kind
of wrong is easy, and a little thing like stealing a lump of gold of
the size of a bushel basket is a mere nothing. The dwarf scrambles up
the point of rock again, while the nymphs, who think that he is still
chasing them, swim far away from him, and he seizes the gold and
plunges down to the bottom with it. The nymphs rush together again with
a cry of horror and grief and fright, and in an instant everything is
dark, as the flames of our fire suddenly drop down.
[Illustration: "THE GOLD SHINES OUT SO BRIGHT AND BEAUTIFUL."]
"But you see they fall only for a moment, and now, as they blaze up
again, brighter than ever, I see another picture. It is on the hilltop
above the river. The grass there is soft and fresh, the trees are cool
and green, and the mellow light of morning is over them all. A light,
white morning mist comes up from the river, and the sun, which has just
risen from behind the purple hills, away off where the sky touches
them, turns the mist into shifting and shimmering silver, so that it
makes the whole scene look brighter instead of dimmer. On the hill
across the river is a glorious sight. It is a castle, the grandest and
most beautiful you ever saw. Its walls are thick and strong enough for
a fortress, yet its towers and battlements look so light and graceful
that you would think they might hold themselves up there in the air, or
rest on the silver river mist, if there were no walls under them. As I
look at the castle through the mist it seems half clear and solid and
firm, and half wavering and dim, mysterious and magical, like a castle
in a dream.
"There is something magical about it, for it was all built in one night
by two giants, and they built it for the gods themselves. And now you
must be prepared to meet some very fine company, for right here before
us are the great Father and the great Mother of the gods, looking
across the river at their splendid new home."
"Do you mean Jupiter and Juno?" the little girl asked.
"No, these are not Jupiter and Juno; and the other gods whom we shall
see soon, if the fire burns right, are not the gods you know already,
but they are a good deal like them in some ways. The Father of the Gods
is full of joy at having such a glorious castle, and the Mother of the
Gods is full of dread at the price that must be paid to the giants for
building it. A terrible price indeed it is, as she does not hesitate to
remind him, for the gods have promised to give the giants the beautiful
Goddess of Love and Youth. It was a foolish and wicked promise for them
to make, foolish because if they kept it they could never in the world
get on without her, and wicked because they did not intend to keep it.
The homes of the gods, like any other homes, would be dreary enough
without the Goddess of Love, but it is worse than that, for she has a
garden where apples grow for the gods to eat; it is eating these apples
that makes the gods always young, and nobody but her knows how to care
for them, so that if she goes away the gods will begin to grow old at
once and will soon die."
"Were the apples like that--oh, what was it? you know the name of it--
that the other gods used to eat?"
"Ambrosia? Yes, something like it, but not quite. You know the gods who
ate ambrosia would live forever and are living still; we have seen some
of them ourselves up among the stars. But these gods have to eat the
apples often, and they must get them from the Goddess of Love. This is
much the better story of the two, I think, because it shows us how gods
and other people, as long as they keep love with them, will be always
young, no matter how many years they may live; and how, if they let it
go away from them, they will be old at once, no matter how few their
years.
"All this the Father and the Mother of the Gods are talking over
together now, and he tells her how the Fire God, who proposed the
bargain in the first place, said that the price need never be paid and
that he trusts the Fire God may yet find some way out of the trouble.
Yet the giants must be made in some way to give up their price of
themselves, for the Father of the Gods has the words of the promise cut
upon his spear, and he cannot break a promise that he has once made.
The Fire God has gone away now to search through the world for
something that may be offered to the giants instead of the Goddess of
Love. And now I see her come, running to the Father of the Gods for
protection, and the other gods are here, to help her if they can, and
the giants themselves have come to claim her for the building of the
castle.
"Well, to be sure, they are all in a fine state of excitement. The
giants are big, dreadful-looking fellows, with clubs made of the trunks
of trees, and the poor goddess does not want to go with them in the
least. All the other gods declare, too, that she shall not go with
them, and the giants insist that she shall. The Thunder God is there
and he has a wonderful hammer, a blow of which is like a stroke of
lightning. He is about to strike the giants with it, and that, you may
be sure, would settle the whole matter, big as they are, but the Father
of the Gods will not let him harm them. He has promised, and whatever
happens he cannot break his word.
"While everything is in this dreadful state, the Fire God comes back
from his search. It is not a very cheering story that he has to tell.
He has been through all the world, he says, and he has asked everywhere
what there is that is as good for gods or giants, or anybody else, as
the love of a woman, which makes those who have it always young. But
the people in those days knew more than a good many of the people in
these days, and everywhere they laughed at him and told him that he
might as well give up his search, for he would never find what he
sought."
"What do you mean by 'the people in those days'?" the child asked; "I
thought you said you could see them right here in the fire now."
"So I can, but it is the beauty of these pictures in the fire that I
can see things that happened years ago, thousands of years ago, if I
like, just as well as things that happen now, and perhaps a little
better. So you see the Fire God has not had very good luck, but as he
was coming back, he says, he passed near where the river nymphs were,
and they called to him, telling him that their beautiful gold had been
stolen, and begging him to ask the Father of the Gods to get it back
for them. They told him, too, about the wicked dwarf who stole it, and
how, before he could steal it, he had to swear never again, as long as
he lived, to love anybody or anything. The Fire God seems to have heard
about the dwarf somewhere else, too, for he says that he has already
made the magic ring out of the gold, that by the help of the ring he
has compelled all the other dwarfs to obey him and serve him, and has
piled up such a treasure of gold and jewels as was never seen before;
and finally, that, if the gods are not careful, the dwarf will soon
rule over them and the whole world besides.
"So it seems that there is one person in the world who has found
something which he thinks is worth more than love. And there are at
least two others who are as foolish as he, though they may not be quite
so wicked. And these are the giants, for when they hear the Fire God
tell of the wonderful treasure that the dwarf has heaped together, they
say to the gods that they think the dwarf is quite right, they would
rather have all that gold than the love of any woman, and, if the gods
will get it for them, they may keep their Goddess of Love and Youth.
The Father of the Gods hesitates; how can he get the treasure? he asks.
"'You can find some way to get it, if you like,' the giants reply.
"'I will not get it for you; you shall not have it,' says the Father of
the Gods.
"'Then we will hold to our first bargain,' they answer, 'and take your
Love Goddess with us. To-night we will bring her back; if you have the
treasure ready for us, then you may keep her; if not, then you have
lost her forever.' And they seize her and stride away, dragging her
with them, while the gods look on in grief and fear. And well they may
fear at the change that comes as soon as the beautiful goddess is gone.
You can see the change yourself in the fire. If it did not fit the
story that I am finding in it so well, I should say that the fire
needed more wood, for it seems almost out; see how the blackened sticks
are smouldering and smoking, with scarcely any bright flames at all.
The smoke is spreading like an ugly gray cloud over everything; the
trees and the flowers droop; the sky is dull and the grass is dingy;
the castle looks grim and heavy, and no longer bright and graceful; the
faces of the gods themselves grow pale and haggard; they feel that they
are suddenly older. They have not eaten the apples of youth to-day, and
nobody can get them but the one goddess who has gone. They know that
they will grow older every hour and will soon die if they do not get
her back, and the only way is to find the dwarf's treasure for the
giants.
"'Come quickly,' says the Father of the Gods, 'and let us get this
treasure; let us hasten down under the ground where the dwarfs live,
for we must have it to-night, when the giants come.'
"There, where the dirty yellow smoke is pouring out between the sticks
of wood at the top of the pile, I see a crevice in the rocks. The
Father of the Gods and the Fire God go down into it, and the smoke
comes thicker and blacker, and hides everything but those two, and I
see them climbing down and down over the rough, sharp rocks, toward the
caverns of the dwarfs, while the little tongues of flame shoot out at
them from the fissures, as if they were trying to catch and burn and
sting them, just as they shoot out from between the black, charred
sticks here before our eyes.
"It is a deep, dark cave that I see now, with little spots of light
here and there, like forges, and there is the sound of anvils. The
dwarfs live here, and they are all working hard, as they must now, for
the dwarf who stole the gold and made the ring from it. I see him too,
and he is scolding and beating another dwarf, who is his brother. It is
all about a piece of fine metal work that he has set his brother to do,
and now the brother wants to keep what he has made. But he drops it on
the ground and the dwarf king, for a king he really is now, picks it up
and claps it on his head. It is a helmet, made of delicate rings of
steel linked together. It is a magic helmet, and anybody who wears it
can disappear from sight whenever he likes, or can take any shape he
chooses. In a minute the dwarf is no more to be seen, and in his place
there is only a cloud of smoke. But he can still beat his brother, and
presently he leaves him whining and crying on the ground, and the cloud
floats away.
"You are not to suppose because this dwarf is treated in this cruel way
that he is any better than his brother who beats him. One of them is
just as wicked as the other, and he deserves all he gets. So here,
lying upon the ground and groaning, the two gods find him, as they come
down into the cave. 'What is the matter?' they ask, and he tells them
about the magic helmet. Then back comes the other dwarf, who wears the
helmet and the ring, driving before him a crowd of his fellows, all
laden down with gold and gems, and they throw them in a pile. They are
so rich and dazzling, and there is such a quantity of them that the
fire actually burns brighter there in the corner where they have heaped
them up. The dwarf drives all his workmen away, and then sulkily asks
the gods what they want here, for with his ring and his helmet he
thinks that he is just as good as any of the gods.
"The Fire God tells him that they have heard so much about his great
wealth that they have come to see it, and now they find his treasure
greater and finer than anything they ever saw before. At that the dwarf
is flattered and begins to boast. 'This that you see is nothing,' he
says; 'I shall soon have much more, and by the magic of my ring I mean
to rule the whole world and you gods too.'
"'But suppose,' says the Fire God, 'that some one should steal the ring
from you while you were asleep?'
"'That shows how little you know about it,' the dwarf answers. 'Why, do
you see this magic helmet of mine? With this I can make myself
invisible, or I can take any form I like, and so nobody can find me
while I am asleep to steal the ring.'
"'Oh, now you are telling us too big a story,' says the Fire God; 'it
is nonsense to say you can take any form you like, helmet or no helmet;
you can't expect us to believe that.'
"At this the dwarf begins to get a little angry; 'I tell you I can,' he
cries; 'I will prove it to you; I can change myself into anything; what
shall it be?'
"'Oh, whatever you like,' says the Fire God, 'only let it be something
big and horrible to show just how much you can do.'
"So, to show what he can do, in a second the dwarf changes himself into
a horrible dragon, with slimy scales and a writhing tail, and eyes and
jaws that look as wicked as the dwarf himself, and twice as savage. The
Fire God pretends to be dreadfully frightened, and when the dwarf comes
back to his own shape again he says: 'That was very good, but that does
not seem so hard, after all. Now, the way for you to hide, it seems to
me, would be to make yourself very small, so that you could slip into a
crack in the rocks. You can puff yourself up like a dragon, of course,
but can you make yourself small as easily? Oh, no, I cannot believe
that.'
"'I can be anything, anything, I tell you,' the dwarf cries, getting
still more angry; 'I will be as small as you like,' and in another
second he has changed himself into a toad, not much bigger than your
hand, as slimy as ever, looking still just as wicked as the dwarf
himself, and almost as ugly.
"'Now is the time--quick!' cries the Fire God, and in an instant the
Father of the Gods stamps his foot upon the toad and has him fast. The
Fire God stoops and pulls the magic helmet off the toad's head, and
instantly he is the dwarf again, but he is still firmly held under the
god's foot, and they tie him with cords and drag him away with them, up
among the rocks from which they came."
"That is just the way Puss in Boots caught the ogre, when he turned
himself into a mouse," said the little girl.
"Yes, to be sure it is, but you know there are only a very few stories
in the world, any way, and we cannot find new ones. The most we can
ever do is to tell the old ones over in different ways, and after all
it is better so, for old things are better than new almost always, as
you will find when you get a little older yourself. But now, with the
fire burning up a little better to help me, we are back above ground.
Let us put on more wood and see if we cannot make it better yet. We are
just where we were before, on the hill by the river and the castle of
the gods. And back now come the two gods from under the ground,
dragging the dwarf with them. 'And what will you give us now,' they
cry, 'if we will untie you and let you go?'
"'What must I give you?' he asks.
"'You must give us the whole of your treasure,' they answer; 'we will
not let you go for anything less.'
"That seems a large price, but the dwarf is as crafty as he is wicked,
though his craft seldom does him much good, and he thinks that even if
he gives up all his treasure he can soon pile up as much more, with the
help of the ring. So, by the power of the ring, he calls the dwarfs to
bring him the treasure, and up they come with it, out of the cleft of
the rocks, and they pile it in a great, glittering heap just there
where the new fire is beginning to burn so bright. 'There is the gold,'
cries the dwarf, 'let me go.'
"'Not yet,' says the Father of the Gods; 'give us your ring first, that
belongs to the treasure.'
"At that the dwarf screams and struggles and writhes and curses the
gods, but it is all of no use; the Father of the Gods tears the ring
from his finger, and then they untie him and tell him to take himself
off where he will. And now, as he goes, he lays a terrible curse on the
ring. To every one who shall ever gain it, he swears, shall come ill
luck, misfortune, sorrow, terror, and death; let him rule the world if
he will, never shall he be happy; everyone shall long for the ring, and
to him who gets it, it shall bring misery and ruin. Truly the dwarf has
gained little by stealing the gold from the river nymphs, but the gods
have done wrong as well in stealing it from him, and they are doing
wrong still in not giving it back to the nymphs; so they must suffer
too.
"But it is not yet time for that, for now, as the fire burns up, the
whole picture grows brighter again. That is because the giants are
bringing back the Goddess of Love and Youth, to see if the treasure is
ready for them. The trees lift up their branches again and the happy
sunlight pours down through them; the flowers open their eyes to see
it; the sky is clear and bright, and the grass is again fresh; while
the faces of the gods, who run to meet their sister, look young and
happy as before. Only the castle is still hidden by the shining silver
river mist. The giants have come near. 'Is the ransom ready for us?'
they cry.
"'There is your treasure.' says the Father of the Gods, 'take it and be
gone.'
"'We must see that it is enough first,' they answer; 'our treasure must
be as much as your goddess, so you must pile it up before her till she
is quite hidden by it; then we will take it, and you shall have her
back.'
"They heap up the gold and the jewels before the goddess, higher and
higher, till everything is gone from the old pile to the new one. Then
one of the giants looks over it and still sees the gold of her hair
above the gold of the treasure. 'Give me that helmet that you carry,'
he says to the Fire God, 'to put on the top.' and he gives it. Now the
other giant peeps through a chink in the pile and sees one of her eyes.
'Quick,' he cries to the Father of the Gods, 'give me that ring you
wear to stop this chink.'
"'No,' says the Father of the Gods, 'you shall not have that; it is the
ring that gives the power to rule the world, and I will keep it.'
"' Very well, then,' say the giants, 'we will have no more to do with
you, and we will take the goddess back with us.'
"All the gods stand terrified and pale. Will their great father let the
Goddess of Love be taken from them again, and must they all grow old
and die, that he may keep this ring? Everything grows dark again, as
our fire here drops down; only there is that pale blue flame that gives
no light, away at the back of the hearth. And now, right in the pale
blue flame, rises the form of a woman out of the ground. It is the
Earth Goddess, the wisest woman in the world, who knows all that ever
was, all that is, and all that ever shall be. She speaks to the Father
of the Gods and tells him to give the ring to the giants, for the curse
that the dwarf has laid upon it will surely destroy him who keeps it.
Then she sinks out of sight, and the Father of the Gods takes from his
finger the ring, and gives it.
"And even while the giants are stowing the treasure in a sack to carry
it away, they fall to quarrelling about how it shall be divided, and
one of them strikes the other a terrible blow with his club which lays
him dead upon the ground. Then he strides away with the treasure,
leaving the gods filled with horror at the first fatal work done by the
curse of the ring.
"Yet only for a moment; their grand new castle is ready for them now.
High up upon a rock stands the Thunder God. He swings his hammer and
the black clouds roll around him. The thunder mutters, and lightning
flames flash out from the dark vapors. The fire flickers and blazes up
again, the clouds part and melt away, and all is light at last. A
rainbow reaches across the river from shore to shore, and the gods
slowly walk across upon it toward their castle. Up from the river, far
below them, comes a sad cry of the nymphs, begging the gods to give
them back their gold. But the gods do not heed it. They rest upon the
rainbow, gazing only at their castle, as it stands before them,
stately, graceful, radiant, and rosy in the warm glow of the sunset."
"And did you really, really see it all in the fire?" the little girl
asked, after she had thought it all over for a few minutes. "It sounds
just as if it was a story you had read in a book."
"Well, perhaps I may have seen something, or heard something, or read
something of the kind somewhere," I replied, "but you know I told you
at first that you must think of the pictures before you could see them
reflected in the fire."
The little girl sat still and thought about it again for a time. "I
don't believe you saw any pictures in the fire at all," she said at
last.
THE DAUGHTER OF THE GOD
"If you say you can see all those things in the fire," said the little
girl, with an air of doubt not yet quite overcome, "I suppose I shall
have to believe it, but I don't see how. I try to think of them the way
you said, but I don't see them in the fire a bit. Can you see them all
the time?"
"It makes a good deal of difference how I feel about it," I answered,
"and a little difference how the fire burns. To-night, you see, the
fire does not burn quite as it usually does. It is cold out of doors,
and there is a wind that comes in gusts and blows different ways. It
gives the fire a good draught, and on the whole it burns rather
fiercely, but when the wind goes down the fire goes down a little too,
and when the wind changes it blows a puff of smoke down the chimney now
and then. Altogether it is not a well-behaved fire at all, and I am
afraid if we try to see things in it, some of them will be rather rough
and rude, and none of them very cheerful. Still, if you would like to
try--"
"Oh, do try," the child said, "I like nice gloomy things."
"Very well. Just now the fire is so fierce and hot that it seems to me
nothing less than a house on fire. It is a house that stands all alone
in the woods. Before it was set on fire a boy and a girl lived there.
Neither of them had any mother, but the boy's father lived with them
and took care of them, going out hunting and leaving the boy and the
girl together, till the boy was old enough to go hunting with him, and
then the girl was left alone. They were very happy there together, all
three of them, and the father always thought that the girl would
sometime grow up and be his son's wife. But now, while they are
hunting, a robber has come and has burned the house, and he takes the
girl with him and carries her off to his own house, far away among the
mountains.
"After this it is not so pleasant roaming the woods and hunting all
day, with no house to go back to and no greeting of a bright face in
the evening. To make it still worse, one day, while they are hunting,
the poor boy loses sight of his father and never finds him again. So
now he is quite alone, but he still lives in the woods in the old way
till he grows to be a tall, strong, handsome young man. Perhaps he is
all the stronger and the better fighter because the most of his
enemies, and his friends too, for that matter, have been wild beasts.
That he has had one good enemy I know, because the coat that he wears
is the skin of a bear.
"And all this time the girl has been kept a prisoner at the house of
the robber, and she has grown up as well, now, to be a tall, beautiful
woman. At times, no doubt, the robber has treated her well enough, and
at times, I am afraid, not so well. But always he has urged her and has
tried to make her promise to be his wife, and now, after all these
years, at last she has promised. She has never forgotten the brave boy
whom she used to love, but the robber has told her that he is dead, and
finally she has come to believe it and has no more any hope of ever
being happy.
"I am looking right into the robber's house now. It is a strange house,
for right in the middle of it stands a large tree, which grows up
through the roof and spreads its branches over the house. And more
wonderful still, there is a sword sticking in this tree, up to the
hilt. Perhaps I might better tell you something about this sword before
we go any farther. Do you remember the gold that was stolen from the
river nymphs, the other night, when we were watching the fire, and the
magic ring that the dwarf made of it? Of course you do, and you
remember too how the Father of the Gods got it and paid it to the
giants for building his castle, and would not give it back to the river
nymphs, and how one of the giants killed the other and kept all the
treasure. Well, the Father of the Gods has been learning and thinking a
good deal since then, and he has begun to see what a great wrong he did
when he put the gold to his own uses, instead of giving it back to the
nymphs. It is no light punishment that falls on gods when they do
wrong, and he sees that for this sin he and all the other gods who live
with him in his castle must at last be destroyed utterly. Yet he still
hopes to save them if only the gold, or at least the ring, can be given
back again to the nymphs.
"Now, the giant who took all the treasure carried it away to a deep
cave in the side of a mountain, and then, by the help of the magic
helmet, he changed himself into a horrible, fierce, fiery, poisonous
dragon, so that he might stay in the cave and guard it. And there he
has stayed guarding it ever since. You will see at once that the
treasure never would do him any good in that way, but giants are
usually stupid, and he could not think of anything better to do with
it. A boy who has a penny and knows enough to buy a penny whistle with
it is richer than this dragon giant. Yet he guards the treasure pretty
well, and the Father of the Gods cannot take it away from him, and
cannot help anybody else to take it away from him, because he paid it
to him for the castle, and to touch it now would be to break his
promise. Yet he wishes that somebody, without his help, would kill the
dragon and give the gold back to its real owners. This would not really
do him any good, for his own old sin would still be just as great, and
he knows it; yet he has a strange kind of hope that it may somehow help
him. But the dragon is so big and fierce and fiery and poisonous, that
nobody could ever hope to kill him except the very greatest of heroes,
and one who simply did not know what fear meant. Even such a hero might
have a good deal of trouble about it, if he did not have a sword that
was just as keen and strong, just as sharp and firm and true as
himself. So, that he may not want for such a good blade, the Father of
the Gods has made a magic sword. No one but a god could make a sword
like this, and he has driven it up to the hilt into the great tree in
the robber's house. It is quite safe there, for the magic of it is that
nobody but the bravest, strongest, truest hero living can ever draw it
out, but for him it will be easy. There are some things besides drawing
swords out of trees which can be done easily by men who are brave and
strong and true, and which no other man can do at all.
"All this time I have been looking into the robber's house. There is a
storm outside, worse than the wind that is troubling our fire. It howls
above the house, and tears at the branches of the tree, till even the
great trunk shivers and trembles and makes the roof creak and groan.
Suddenly the door is burst open, and in, out of the storm, rushes a
man, and falls before the fire as if he were so weary that he could
move no more. Then from another room of the house comes the woman who
has promised to be the robber's wife, the girl who once lived in the
house that the robber burned. When she sees the stranger lying before
the fire, she lifts him up and brings him a big drinking-horn, and
tells him to stay and rest till the robber comes home. Then he looks at
her, and she seems to him the kindest, the sweetest, and the loveliest
woman he has ever seen.
"Soon the robber comes home, and he asks the stranger what he is and
how he came here. Then the stranger tells him all the story that I have
told you of the burning of the house where he lived with his father,
and how since then he has wandered the woods and has fought with the
wild beasts and with his enemies. As soon as he tells that, the woman
knows that the boy whom she used to love so long ago is not dead, but
is sitting here before her, and the hope comes to her that he may take
her away from this place, so that she may not have to be married to the
robber. Then she asks the stranger why he is unarmed, and he says that
he fought to rescue a woman from her enemies; he killed some of them,
but the others were so many that they broke his spear and his shield,
and he had to save himself from them, and so it was that he came to
this house.
"At this the robber grows red and pale with anger. He has heard of
the fight, and the men who were killed were his friends. 'Stay here
to-night,' he says; 'while you are in my house I cannot harm you, but
to-morrow you must go out and fight with me for killing my friends.'
"The robber and the woman have gone away and the stranger is left
alone. Sad and gloomy enough are his thoughts, for to-morrow he must
fight with the robber, and he has no sword, no spear, no shield. The
fire before him dies down, as our fire dies down too, for the moment,
and as all his hope grows darker and colder. And then, just as his life
and the world and the future seem blackest, the woman comes back. Why
should her coming bring him hope? He could not tell, perhaps, yet her
very presence cheers him; misfortune and death seem not so near when
she is by, and not so terrible, even should they come. He may not know
why it is, but I know, and so do you.
"She hastens to him and shows him the sword in the tree. She tells him
of its magic; he must be the hero to draw it out, she says, and then,
in the fight to-morrow, he must overcome his enemy and give her revenge
for all she had suffered from him. And how gladly he will do her
bidding! He seizes the sword and draws it quickly out of the tree,
while her eyes gaze at him and are filled with joy. The hero has come--
her hero. He holds the wonderful magic sword in his hand, but only for
a moment he looks upon its long, gleaming, beautiful blade. Then he
turns to her again. They twine their arms about each other and together
they leave this hateful house. And now, of a sudden, it is as if their
two hearts were all the world, as indeed they are, to each other, for
all around them the storm was stilled; the winter is gone and it is
spring; the peaceful moonlight fills the happy woods with a soft glory;
sweet airs breathe tenderly on them and on the flowers in their path;
quiet voices speak to them out of the budding trees; and so together
they are gone into the forest.
"The Father of the Gods has done more than I have told you yet to guard
against the end which he knows must come, in spite of all that he can
do. He has fancied that his castle might be safer if he were to fill it
with strong warriors to fight for him in any need. Therefore, wherever
battles are fought he sends his nine daughters to choose the bravest of
the men who are killed and to bring them to his castle. Each of these
daughters has a horse which flies through the air faster than any bird.
When the fallen heroes have come thus to the halls of the gods, they
are brought to life and their wounds are healed by means that the gods
know how to use, and they live there, feasting day after day with other
heroes. And lest they should forget their old skill and bravery in
fighting, every day they have a battle and many of them are killed and
chopped to pieces by the others' swords, but at sunset they are all
alive and well again, and they go back together to their feast in the
halls of the gods.
"It is one of these daughters of the god, one of these choosers of
heroes, whom I see before me now. I wish that I could make you see her.
She is more than a beautiful woman, and also she is less. She is tall
and her form is strong, yet light and buoyant. She is dressed all in
armor, and she has a spear and a shield which gleams and glistens like
a beacon-light for an army. She herself, as I see her here, is as
graceful and as full of warm life as a flame of the fire, the same hot
glow stirs her heart and moves her to the same eager, free action. Her
face is as clear and pure as the fire itself, and almost as radiant as
her silver shield, while the gold of her hair breaking from under the
light of her helmet, outshines them all. Beating under her bosom,
thrilling through her form, glowing in her cheeks, and beaming from her
eyes, is the joy of life and strength and beauty. Yet where is the
tenderness that one would seek in a woman's eyes? A glad light shines
in hers, but it is not softened by any kindly ray of gentleness or
mercy. Where is the sweetness of a woman's lips? Hers are calm and
beautiful, but they tempt no more than a stain of blood upon the snow.
What is there in her face that could melt into a woman's compassion and
pity? Her face is not cruel, not unkind, only still, stern, and placid
as marble. She is not a woman, you know; only a goddess--a war goddess.
"Just now the Father of the Gods is telling his daughter of the fight
that is to come between the robber and the hero who won the sword, and
he commands her to help the hero to win. She is delighted at this, for
she loves all brave, true heroes as he does, but she has scarcely left
her father when the Mother of the Gods comes, riding furiously through
the air in a chariot drawn by two rams. She has heard of the fight too,
and she takes quite a different view of it. 'This man whom you would
save and help,' she says, 'has taken the woman away from the man whose
wife she promised to be. Is that all you care for a promise? He must be
punished; you must help his enemy to kill him.'
[Illustration: "DAUGHTER OF THE GOD."]
"You see she cares nothing at all about heroes, but to her a promise is
a promise. And the Father of the Gods himself is very particular about
promises, as you must remember, so he is forced to say that he will not
help the hero. But that is not enough for her; he must command his
daughter not to help him. She shall not, he says, but that is not
enough; he must help his enemy and see that he wins. This is hard for
the Father of the Gods, for he loves the hero, and if he is left to
himself he must win, with his magic sword, yet he cannot choose; the
promise has been broken, and he gives his word that the hero shall die.
"The Father of the Gods is left alone, and again his daughter comes to
him. He tells her sadly that she must help the robber in the fight, and
that the hero must die. She is as sad as he at this command, for all
that she ever wishes is to do what he would have her do, and she knows
that, though he says that the hero must die, yet he would have him
live. But his word is given, and, full of sorrow, the god and his
daughter part. And now comes the hero himself, with his bride. She is
fearful of what may befall him in the fight, and would have him flee
farther away. He will not do that, and he tries to cheer her, till she
faints and sinks down at his feet. Then, beautiful and sad, but still
calm, stern, and placid, the Daughter of the God stands before him.
"'Soon,' she says to him, 'you must come with me to the castle of the
gods. There the Father of the Gods will welcome you, there your own
father, whom you lost so long ago, waits for you, there you will fight
and feast with heroes, and the daughters of the god will serve you.'
"'And shall this woman here,' he asks, 'whom I love, go with me and
with you there?'
"'No,' she answers, 'this woman cannot go.'
"'Then I will not go,' he replies; 'gladly I would stand before the
Father of the Gods, gladly I would see my own father again and the
heroes and the daughters of the god, but not without her; I will not go
with you; leave us here.'
"If the daughter of the god were a woman she would understand all this,
but now it would make her impatient, if anything could. She cannot know
and cannot feel why this man, who has had only trouble and ill luck all
his life, should choose to stay and wait for more trouble and ill luck
with this one poor woman who lies at their feet, fainting and knowing
not even that she is alive, rather than to sit and feast with gods and
heroes. How little a war goddess can really know about brave men!
"Yet she does know that her father, whose wishes are her own, wishes
this woman to live, and that she will be in danger after her hero has
left her; so she tells him that he may leave his bride with her and she
will protect her. But the man is still more unreasonable. He says that
she is cruel and hard-hearted. That is unjust, for she is not cruel. He
says too that the woman shall die rather than be left with her. If he
must die, he will kill the woman, too, and he is about to do it, when
the Daughter of the God holds his hand. She thinks only now of how much
her father longs that this man may live; she resolves that in spite of
the command she will save him; she tells him that he shall have her
help in the fight, and she leaves him, just as there comes a noise and
a shout of the robber with his men and his dogs hunting for the hero to
kill him.
"See how the black smoke is driven down the chimney by the changing
gusts of wind. It is like dark clouds gathering over the sky and
dropping down upon the mountain, so that it is hard to see anything at
all. The fire goes down, too, and its flames dart and flicker in
sudden, angry flashes. Some of them are like lightning, brightening the
whole scene for an instant, and then I can see the hero and the robber
in their fight, springing and thrusting and striking at each other so
that it seems as if they must both be killed a dozen times over. Again
in the sparkle of the fire I see the gleaming of the magic sword, as
the hero whirls it above his head and strikes at his enemy. Then comes
a flare of flame that shines from the shield of the Daughter of the
God, as she throws it over the hero to protect and save him. It is all
in vain, for there comes a hot, red glow in which for an instant all
the rest is lost, and now, in the midst of it stands the Father of the
Gods himself. The daughter falls back helpless before him, and he
stretches his spear toward the hero. The magic sword falls upon the
spear and is shivered to pieces. Nothing indeed could shatter that
blade but the spear of the god who made it, but with that spear to help
him the robber springs upon his enemy and his sword is through his
heart, and he is fallen.