THE LAST TWILIGHT
Alone through the great hall of the Gibichungs wandered Gutrune,
awaiting Siegfried’s return from the hunt. Going to Brünnhilde’s
chamber in the hope of finding a companion in her anxiety, she saw that
the room was empty, and remembered that she had seen, some time before,
a woman’s figure descend towards the Rhine. As she thought of her
brother’s wild, strange bride, Gutrune shuddered. She moved restlessly
about the hall, listening for the clear horn-call that always heralded
the coming of the Volsung.
Suddenly, Hagen appeared with a look of triumph on his dark, evil face;
and, directly afterwards, many people came running, in wild confusion,
carrying torches, and lamenting the hero’s death. And, finally, came
the warriors bearing Siegfried upon a great bier.
With wails of anguish, Gutrune flung herself on her knees beside her
hero, and pushed Gunther away wildly when he strove to comfort her,
calling him the murderer of her husband.
But Gunther denied the charge, and pointed to Hagen, accusing him, in
heart-broken tones, of having slain their hero. Hagen answered, with
calm defiance, that he had, indeed, killed Siegfried, and that he now
demanded as booty the Ring that gleamed upon the finger of the Volsung.
Fiercely, Gunther claimed the circlet for his sister, as widow’s dower.
Hagen sprang forward to attack him, and the half-brothers fought wildly
together for the Rhinegold Ring. At last, with an exultant gesture,
Hagen raised his sword above his head; for, at his feet lay Gunther,
the Gibichung—dead.
“The Ring!” cried the Nibelung’s son, and he sprang to the bier. But,
ere he could touch Siegfried’s hand where gleamed the circlet, it
raised itself threateningly. And even Hagen started back in terror.
On all sides people trembled with fear and horror. Gutrune screamed
wildly as her eyes encountered her brother’s body on the ground.
Into this place of sorrow and confusion came a tall woman, robed in
white, with a face most beautiful in its gentleness and strength; and
before so calm and tender a gaze the crowd parted, as though in awe, to
let the woman pass.
It was Brünnhilde, who had heard from the water-maidens everything
that had happened on the shores of the Rhine. She understood all now.
She understood that he had never been false, knowingly; that his last
loving words had been of her—and her alone. And she had come, with her
great wisdom and her great love, to bring peace to the turbulent hearts
gathered about Siegfried’s bier.
She stood for a long time gazing down on the face of her hero—“The
highest hero of worlds,” she called him. She looked around her and
smiled upon the confusion and sorrow, and, before the tenderness and
solemn sweetness of that smile, the confusion seemed to die away and
the sorrow seemed but as something too small to be shown.
Piteously, Gutrune sobbed out words of regret for the wrong which had
been done Brünnhilde, and reproached Hagen for his share in the plot.
But Brünnhilde hardly heard.
In slow, solemn tones, she ordered a funeral pyre to be lighted on the
banks of the Rhine, and, bending over Siegfried, she spoke tenderly of
his love and of his nobility and truth.
Then, turning away, she raised her arms on high and broke into
sublime words, in which she reproached Wotan for his wrath, and added
that already his Ravens were on their way to Walhalla to carry the
long-deferred tidings of the last Twilight—so close at hand.
“Rest! Rest! O gods!” she said, softly, and paused. She turned towards
Siegfried again and drew the Ring from his finger. Then she spoke to
the three invisible Rhine children, and told them to take the circlet
from her ashes when she had been burned with her hero.
The pyre was erected now, and Siegfried’s body had been placed upon it.
Grani was led in, and Brünnhilde laid her arm upon his neck tenderly,
and spoke of the warrior who was dead and of the leap into the flames
they were both about to take. Wildly, she seized a torch and lighted
the pyre; and, as the flames rose high, she sprang upon the horse’s
back and raised him for a leap.
“Siegfried! Siegfried! See!” she cried—and her voice echoed both far
and near. “Gladly greets thee thy bride!”
Into the flames sprang Grani, the stanch war-horse, and the Walküre
was gone from the eyes of men forever. But, behold! Her deed brought
release from the sin and sorrow of many years.
The flames, rising high and higher, made a great fiery wall between
the earth and sky. The Rhine Maidens swam up to the shore and caught
a bright circlet lying near in the midst of a heap of ashes. Hagen,
springing after it, was lost in the Rhine’s rushing waters forever.
But now a wonderful sight met the gaze of the awe-stricken people
crouching in the hall of the Gibichungs.
In the high heavens, Walhalla’s stately towers appeared in a bright
ring of fire. The fagots made from the World-Ash had at last caught
fire. Dimly could be seen the great array of gods and heroes awaiting
the Last Twilight, and the end.
Wildly, and still more wildly, leaped the flames. Walhalla was
surrounded with red fire—it could no longer be seen. A fearful light
glowed upon earth and heaven.
Lo! the Dusk of the Gods was come.
* * * * *
And that was how the Last Twilight came to Walhalla, and how Brünnhilde
lifted the spell off the world and expiated the old sins of so many
years before.
And that was how the Golden Age came to an end, and a better and nobler
era of truth and happiness reigned upon the earth.
So the enchanted Rhinegold came back to the hands of its first
guardians—the maidens of the river; and, after great sorrow and
turmoil, there was at last peace.
[Music: Motif of Brünnhilde’s Expiation]
FINIS